A strange, angry look came into her eyes. She stepped back.

“Yes, I know. For a girl!” she said and walked away from him.

♦

When Akitada asked to see Motosuke, he was told that the governor had left early that morning for the country to buy horses for their journey to the capital. With a sigh, Akitada went to his quarters, ate some rice gruel, and slept for a few hours.

He woke to the sound of Tora scratching himself.

Looking at his servant drowsily, he said, “Throw away those filthy rags and take a bath.”

Tora grinned. “Later. You promised to help me look for Hidesato.”

Akitada sat up with a groan. “Very well. But find some other clothes.”

A little later, wearing clean but plain robes, they walked out through the tribunal gate and turned south into the city. It was midday, the sun had warmed up considerably, and the air was almost springlike. Akitada was silent, his thoughts on Ayako.

When they reached the market, Tora stopped a street urchin to ask where he might buy some fried rice cakes. The boy held out a grimy hand, but when Tora placed a copper coin into it, he ducked away into the crowd. Tora cursed.

“Is your stomach more important than your friend?” Akitada asked irritably. He was beginning to regret his promise to Tora.

“I’m looking for the rice-cake vendor, sir,” Tora explained. “I still have his money. He looked half-starved. I’m sure he needs it back.”

“Oh.” Akitada was chastened. “Perhaps he only works in the evenings?” he suggested.

But he was wrong. Moments later Tora caught the familiar smell of fried cakes and took off after it with quivering nostrils. Akitada followed and found Tora in conversation with a thin young man in ragged clothes. The vendor was staring at the silver Tora had placed in his hands.

“We caught the crooks,” Tora was saying, “so you don’t have to pay them ever again. Next time report the trouble to the constables.”

The young man gave a bitter laugh. “Thanks for the advice,” he said, tucking the silver away. “You say you caught the bastards, but they’re on the streets again. Who do you think the constables work for? Everyone gets a cut from the take.”

“What do you mean?” Akitada demanded sternly.

The vendor gave him a startled look and muttered, “Nothing, sir.” He snatched up his bamboo yoke, hooked the hampers to it, and trotted off.

Tora looked after him. “Crooked officials. Just like I told you,” he said heavily. “That’s why those murderous bastards are on the loose again.” He spat in disgust.

“I don’t believe it,” said Akitada. “Ikeda seemed efficient, and the governor didn’t mention any problems. It must be idle gossip. Are we near that wine shop where you met Hidesato? Good. Perhaps your friend has returned to it.”

“It’s not your kind of place. Only common trash like me goes there.”

Akitada stopped. “As long as you work for me, you are not to refer to yourself in those terms again!”

Tora grinned reluctantly. “Sorry, sir.”

The fat host of the Heavenly Abode welcomed Tora like an old friend but only nodded to Akitada. Except for a drowsy old man, the place was empty.

“What’s this about those hoodlums being out of jail already?” Tora asked.

The host rolled his eyes. “The bastards! Next time they walk in here, I’ll cut out their stomachs,” he boasted. “I keep a sharp knife under the counter.”

“I didn’t see you doing any belly-cutting the other night.”

The host waved a hand. “You two had things well in hand.”

The solitary guest, ancient and bent almost double, suddenly cried in a cracking voice, “Amida is great. Amida saves.”

They glanced at him and looked away.

“I’ve lost touch with my buddy,” Tora said. “Has he been back?”

“No.” Seeing Tora’s disappointment, the fat man offered, “But if he comes in, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”

“Thanks.” Tora turned to go.

When Akitada saw Tora’s dejected face, he followed him out and said, “I think we should try the garrison. Hidesato was a sergeant. Perhaps he put in for duty there.”

Tora brightened. “You’re right. He might do that.”

The garrison was beside the Western Gate, surrounded by high palisades and with colorful banners flying from its large main gate. Akitada gave his name and rank to the guard and asked to see the commandant. The man looked dubiously at their plain clothes but sent a recruit to report.

The recruit returned with an older man, dark-skinned and husky, his face ringed with a graying beard. He wore short baggy pants, leggings, and half-armor over a shirt and looked sharply at them.

“Lieutenant Nakano,” he introduced himself in a gravelly voice after Akitada had repeated his name and rank. “The captain’s in his office.”

The garrison covered a city block and contained several long, low buildings—soldiers’ quarters and stables—and a large hall that served as headquarters. In the open courtyard, foot soldiers were drilling with halberds and long shields, and beyond it, mounted men circled a target at full gallop, their bows stretched, loosing arrows at it in measured volleys.

“Would you look at that?” Tora said. “For soldiers they’re as good as any I’ve seen. That captain must be a good man.”

Leaving Tora outside, Akitada followed Lieutenant Nakano into the hall. They passed busy clerks and aides to the back, where the lieutenant opened a door and announced, “Lord Sugawara.”

Akitada stopped on the threshold. Captain Yukinari’s head wore a bloody bandage. He rose but looked pale and seemed to sway on his feet as he bowed.

“That’s all, Lieutenant,” Yukinari said. The door closed.

“What happened to you?” Akitada asked.

“It’s nothing. A freak accident. Please be seated, sir.”

As they sat down, Akitada saw that the captain held his left arm tucked close to his chest. “Your injuries look serious. Were you attacked?”

Yukinari wiped perspiration from his forehead. “No, no. A foolish accident. I work out early every morning before the men get up. When I’m done, I ring a big bronze bell in the exercise yard. It signals the men to assembly. This morning, when I gave the bell the usual hard push, it fell. Fortunately, it only clipped my head and my left shoulder or it would have killed me. Apparently a wooden beam was rotten and gave way.”