His father smiled. “Now that you mention it, I believe Seimei gave me the same advice about the tail of the drake when I was your age. And it turned out, he was quite right. I could never have managed to get into the university if my character had not had the tail of a drake.”

Yori looked impressed. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

Genba trotted toward them from the stable, his round face anxious. He bobbed a perfunctory bow. “Any news, sir?”

At the main house, Seimei and Tamako had come out. Akitada realized that they must all be worried about Tora. Because of Soga he had forgotten to send them a message.

He told Genba, “I’ll try to have Tora released into my custody tomorrow. The case looks complicated.”

“That’s all right then.” Genba heaved a sigh of relief and grinned. “Might have known you’d take care of it, sir. Didn’t know what to think when your lady told us what happened. Not that she knew very much.” He looked at Akitada expectantly.

“Let me eat something first.”

Genba bowed. “Please take your time and enjoy your meal.”

Akitada set Yori down and took his hand. Together they walked to the main house.

Tamako murmured, “Welcome home. You have been awaited anxiously.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I could not send a message. Tora should be home tomorrow. I will tell you what happened in a little while. At the moment, I’m very hungry. If cook has anything ready, have her bring it, please.”

Tamako’s eyes widened with concern. She hurried away on soft, stockinged feet, her layered silk robe billowing behind her as it swept across the gleaming wood floor. Akitada admired, not for the first time, his wife’s elegant bearing and grace. Tamako was the only child of one of Akitada’s professors and had been raised by him after her mother’s death. She could easily have become spoiled or self-absorbed, but had instead grown into a calm, intelligent young woman and, he thought, the perfect companion for a man of his temperament. The fact that her father had indulged her by teaching her things normally reserved for men—she read and wrote Chinese, for example, and was well-versed in the five classics—had proved a boon because Akitada could not abide stupidity and enjoyed talking with her about all sorts of things a man normally only discussed with other men. Now he was miserably aware that she deserved much better than a dismissed official who had not achieved middle rank yet and probably never would.

Seimei took Yori from him and promised to bring fresh tea. With a sigh, Akitada went to his study. Someone had folded away his bedding. He untied his court hat and put it away in its box, rubbing his neck where the strings had bitten into his skin. He needed a shave. And a bath. But first food and his report on Tora. And then he would have to tell them of the resignation.

Pushing back the sliding doors to the garden, he walked out onto the veranda. In the small pond, the koi rose to the surface, expecting to be fed. His whole household expected sustenance. Even his own belly demanded to be filled. How would he take care of all of them?

He could apply for a post in one of the provinces, as a secretary in one of the provincial administrations close to the capital. Taking orders from someone of his own class could not be worse than dealing with Soga’s insults. And it would spare him the stares of his colleagues here. But Tamako would be very unhappy. She had not had an easy time during the bitter winter of Akitada’s northern assignment, nearly losing the child she carried while they lived in fear for their lives. Here, with her own household, she had been contented. She enjoyed the respect of friends and family, and had the company of Akitada’s married sisters and of her female friends. He sighed.

Seimei brought the tea. He handed Akitada a small cup of steaming greenish liquid. “It’s a special blend. I added some orange zest and a little honey and a few other good things to restore your spirit and soothe your empty belly.”

Akitada was touched. Seimei, like the others, had never shown him anything less than love and support. He tasted. “Excellent.” He emptied the cup. “Yes. I feel better already.”

Seimei, glowing with pleasure, poured again.

And the food, brought in by his wife and her maid, was even more welcome. Akitada ate like a starved man, hardly caring what they handed him. They watched him in awe. When he finally pushed the last empty bowl away with a sigh, Tamako poured some warm wine.

He looked at them all. “Thank you for being so patient. Seimei, please call Genba now.”

When everyone had gathered, Akitada told them about Tomoe’s murder and the case against Tora. Their faces lengthened.

Tamako said loyally, “Tora would never hurt a woman, especially not a blind one. He likes to pretend he can solve crimes like you and was simply trying to discover who was terrorizing the poor woman.”

Genba nodded. “It’s just like Tora to want to help someone like that.”

“There is to be a hearing tomorrow,” Akitada told them. “I hope to get him released into my custody until the trial. I’m afraid he must try to clear himself of the charge because I’ll be tied up at the ministry. Soga has decided to move to the country for a while and left me in charge.”

Seimei and Genba smiled and nodded as if this were the most natural thing in the world, but Tamako’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t trust that man,” she said. “He’s hatching some plot again. Be careful. He wants to get rid of you.”

Here it was. Akitada sighed. “There was no need for any plot.” He looked from one face to another, wondering what they would think of him. “I’ve offered him my resignation as soon as he returns.”

Nobody spoke. Genba looked puzzled, his large, kindly face contorting as he tried to understand. Seimei’s mouth was slack with surprise.

But Tamako nodded and said, “Good. I’m glad.”

“Yes, indeed.” Seimei now found his voice. “It’s a pity that the minister has never given you the encouragement you deserve, sir. Master Kung warned us that without his superior’s support an official will be unable to govern.”

Genba, whose mind always worked along simple lines, asked, “But why did you offer, sir?”

“The minister expressed his dissatisfaction with me, Genba. It seemed proper to resign.”

“And what will you do next?” Genba persisted, brushing aside the minister’s dissatisfaction like a pesky gnat. “His Majesty will not announce any more appointments until the first month of next year.”

“For the time being I’m still at the ministry and very busy. Later I shall have to look for another post somewhere.”

Seimei gave Genba a look and said, “As soon as people hear what has happened, you will be overwhelmed with offers, sir. You can take your pick then.” Genba brightened and nodded, and Tamako summed up cheerfully, “It will all work out for the best.”

When Akitada was alone with his wife, he took her hand and said, “Thank you, Tamako. I know how you must worry about the future.”

“Do you?” She pulled her hand from his and looked at him searchingly. “If you think so little of me, I shall be ashamed to be your wife. You used to honor me with your confidence, but lately you have distanced yourself. I wish you would tell me what I have done to deserve it.”

He was dismayed. “You misunderstand. You have never done anything but what is right.”

She shook her head. “You’ve been edgy for many months now. I have watched you push your favorite foods away with little appetite, and you’ve left my bed to pace on the veranda or in the corridor. And many nights you stayed away, while I waited and watched your light burn all night in your study. But you have not spoken to me about what troubled you. If I have lost your confidence, then the fault must be mine.”

He said weakly, “There seemed no point in worrying you.” The truth was that he had lost confidence in himself and had been too ashamed to tell her for fear of disillusioning her. But he could not say it and instead felt the hot blood rise to his face. He knew his cursed weakness only too well and had no right to beg for her sympathy. Unlike other, better men, he could not put aside his self-doubts long enough to take decisive action in times of trouble, or to find contentment in his hard-won successes. Sharing this secret would make her regard him with disgust.