Tora looked uneasy. “I spent a lot of time at Higekuro’s, sir. Trying to get a picture of local conditions.”

Seimei snorted.

“And what are the local conditions?” Akitada asked coldly.

“Well, it’s a rich province. Plenty of rice, good climate, good soil. Besides, they have started making silk.”

“Come, that’s not news,” said Akitada impatiently. “We saw the mulberry groves on our journey from the harbor. And silk was part of the tax shipments.”

“Whatever it is, it’s made a fortune for Higekuro’s neighbor. Otomi said the fellow started out with a little shop, selling cheap cotton and hemp. Then he got to trading in silks, and before you knew it, he was a wholesaler with warehouses in the harbor and here in town. Threw up a high wall around his land and no longer speaks to his neighbors.”

“Ah.” Seimei nodded. “That sounds suspicious. The sage said: ‘Virtue is never a hermit. It always has neighbors.’ The silk merchant lacks virtue, or he would share his joy with his neighbors.”

“Perhaps he’s just afraid of being robbed,” Akitada said dryly. “Is there much crime in the city, Tora?”

“No more than any place where there’s money. Higekuro says there would be a lot more if it weren’t for all the soldiers in the garrison.”

“Captain Yukinari mentioned reinforcements at the garrison since the tax shipments started disappearing.” Akitada pulled his earlobe thoughtfully. “I would have thought that the number of new recruits, along with the disciples Joto is attracting to his temple, must cause problems in the city.”

Tora wagged his head. “I got the feeling that the people like the soldiers, and they put up with the monks because they make money out of the pilgrims. Even Higekuro and the girls are much better off now. Some of the soldiers come to the school for lessons, and Otomi does a nice little business selling her pictures to the pilgrims.”

“Pictures?” asked Akitada.

“Oh, didn’t I mention it? That girl’s a fine painter. She paints scrolls of saints and Buddhist mandalas, and the pilgrims pay very good money for them, as much as a silver bar for a large one. You should see her work. It looks so real you’d think you were there.”

“Where?” asked Seimei, literal-minded as always. “Saints and mandalas are not real. How can she paint them as real people or places?”

“Well,” said Tora defensively, “maybe not those, but she did some real nice pictures of mountains and the sea.”

“I should like to meet your friends sometime.” Akitada smiled. “Otomi must be a remarkable artist if you praise her work, Tora.”

Tora looked pleased. Casting a shy glance in Seimei’s direction, he asked, “Do you think, sir, that someone like me could learn to write?” Seeing the astonished faces of the other two, he added with a blush, “I mean just a few characters. Some pleasant words a girl might like to hear?”

Seimei snorted again. “I’ll teach you how to hold a brush and place the strokes,” he said, “but such a skill is worth a great deal more than writing love notes to women. Women cannot read or write anyway. Their heads cannot grasp such matters.”

“Oh, I promise to try very hard to learn whatever you teach me, Seimei,” said Tora, “but you are wrong about Otomi. She reads and writes all the time.”

“What about the other daughter?” asked Akitada.

Tora grimaced. “Ayako? She’s a mannish sort of girl. Helps her father train his students in martial arts. You wouldn’t like her, sir.”

“Perhaps not, at least not in the way you mean,” Akitada said, and thought of the fragile beauty at the Tachibana mansion. He got up, brushing down his silk gown, and said briskly, “I think I shall pay a proper condolence visit to Lady Tachibana. She is very young and inexperienced and may need some help in settling her late husband’s estate. Seimei, you will draw up the final releases for the governor. And you, Tora, had better start to do some useful work talking to the people in this city.”

Seimei regarded his young master fixedly and said, “More dangerous than a tiger is the scarlet silk of a woman’s undergown.”

* * * *

SEVEN

LOW LIFE

T

ora decided to reassure himself of the safety of Higekuro and the girls. The day was overcast again and it was chilly, but no new snow was falling. His mind on Otomi, he strode out so briskly that he did not feel the cold.

He was passing the shrine down the street from Higekuro’s when he caught sight of two saffron-robed figures and quickly stepped in the shrine entrance to watch them.

The two monks appeared to be begging for food. They knocked on a door, waited till someone opened, said a few words, and extended their bowls. The householder gave them food, and the monks moved on. Tora began to feel hungry himself. It was past midday, and his master’s meals were light by Tora’s standards. He was thinking resentfully of those full bowls when, to his amazement, the monks emptied the food into a patch of weeds and began the process of knocking and begging again. Could those ill-begotten monks be so spoiled that they were looking for particular delicacies?

It was not until they reached the house opposite Higekuro’s school that Tora realized their true purpose. Here an elderly maid stepped into the street and pointed across the way. The monks asked questions, and the woman nodded, gesturing to her ears and lips as she spoke. After she went back into her house, the monks stood staring at the school a moment longer, then turned and quickly walked back the way they had come.

So the bastards had tracked down Otomi!

Higekuro was alone in the exercise hall when Tora burst in. He was practicing his archery with such concentration that he did not turn his head. Seated on a stool, he dispatched arrow after arrow, effortlessly and smoothly, into a series of small targets some sixty feet away, without once missing his mark. Only when the quiver was empty did he lower the great bow and look over his shoulder.

Tora applauded. “I thought I could handle a bow,” he said, “but not like that. Why are the arrows so long, and how much do you charge for lessons?”

“These are competition arrows.” Higekuro chuckled. “You use shorter ones in the army. And for my friends the lessons are free.”

“I can pay now that I have steady work. Can we start right away?”

“Never refuse a gift from a grateful man. It diminishes him. Your lessons will be free, but today I’m expecting students. Will you mind returning another time?”