Sakae stared at him. “You are leaving me to do all this alone?”

Akitada smiled. “Yes, Sakae. I have other duties. It will be your chance to impress the minister. I have the utmost confidence in you and shall make it a point to tell him that you did the job all by yourself. Of course, if you don’t feel up to it . . . ?”

“Oh, I’m definitely up to it, sir,” cried Sakae, flushing. “But shouldn’t you be here? What if I have a question?”

“Well, I rely on your judgment. If you cannot handle it, consult Nakatoshi.” He watched the conflicting emotions on Sakae’s round face and knew that ambition and malice would win out over his indolence. Sakae planned to impress the minister with his industry while proving Akitada unfit for his post.

“I can handle it, sir,” said Sakae.

After leaving Sakae to his chore, Akitada went to see Nakatoshi. “I’m leaving you in charge. If there is any unforeseen business, send a message to my house. My secretary Seimei will find me. I expect to be back tomorrow or the day after.”

Nakatoshi looked extremely uneasy but did not argue.

As Akitada walked homeward, he wondered if, by this unprecedented act of rebellion and dereliction of duty, he had just taken an irreversible step toward a permanent break with Soga and ended his career in the government. Was his desire to honor his promise to Haseo merely a pretext to shed a burden which had become intolerable? He did not know the answer, only that he had to get away from Soga, from his office, and from this life, even if only for a day or two. Fate would decide. If his defiance of Soga’s orders went unnoticed, and if that little weasel Sakae kept his mouth shut, he would continue his drudgery. If not, he would find other work. If worse came to worst, he could become a farmer on the little piece of land his family owned in the country. But his steps slowed as he approached his residence. He did not know how to tell Tamako.

CHAPTER TWO

TEMPTING SOGA’S WRATH

When he turned the corner of his street, he saw Tora coming toward him. Tora sauntered along whistling, his hands tucked into his sash, his eyes directed at the cloudless sky, and a look of contentment on his handsome face. Not for the first time, Akitada was struck by the contrast between them. Tora never worried. He took each day as it came and found endless pleasure in the surprises that fate, or his master, had planned for him. Today Akitada was envious.

“Where to, Tora?” he asked.

Typically, Tora saw no need to make up some official errand to account for his strolling off in the middle of the afternoon. “There you are, sir,” he cried, “home early. I was going to the market. You want to come along? I know this blind girl who has the voice of a fairy and yet sings tales that make a seasoned warrior shiver with fear.”

Akitada was tempted. The gods knew he felt terrible. Glancing at the gate to his home, he decided he need not face questions about his early return. Besides, Tora was just the person to discuss Haseo with. “Lead on,” he said. “Knowing you, I trust she is as pretty as she is entertaining.”

Tora chuckled. “Tomoe? Not really. She’s just the best street singer in the city.” He shot his master a sidelong glance.

“Very well,” said Akitada. “We’ll have a cup of good wine somewhere, listen to your street singer, and come home.” By that time, he reasoned, nobody would wonder what had happened at the ministry. He would postpone unpleasant explanations until tomorrow.

They headed southward along busy Suzaku Avenue, where porters trotted with their loads slung on their backs, and a few messengers, at a full run, dodged horsemen and the occasional ox-drawn carriage. These tall two-wheeled vehicles were reserved for the good people and moved along sedately as their drivers walked beside the oxen and a retinue of servants followed behind. Their noble occupants sat inside, hidden behind bamboo blinds, protected from the dirty and ramshackle world of the common people. But most people were pedestrians like themselves, on their way to the business center of the city.

It was still early in the year, but the weather was getting warm already. There had been no rain for days, and a thin cloud of dust, stirred up by wheels, hooves, and feet, covered everything. The willow trees lining the avenue drooped motionless in the still air.

“Tora,” said Akitada, “do you remember Sadoshima? Did Haseo speak to you at all before he died?”

“What made you think of that again?”

“Guilt. That day I promised to clear his name. It’s been on my conscience, and today I decided to do something about it. The trouble is, I know next to nothing about his background.”

Tora clapped his hands. “Good! A new case. Just what we need. But I can’t help you much. He wasn’t up to talking, remember? Muttered a bit, though. His mind was wandering. I thought maybe he was praying.”

Praying? That did not sound like Haseo. “Try to remember his words.”

“I don’t know that I can, sir. It’s been five years.” Tora scrunched up his face in thought. “Well, he said something about a sword. But he’d been talking about swords before the battle. A good swordsman would, you know.”

“Yes.” Akitada thought about it and had an idea. If Haseo had been an expert sword fighter, perhaps his name would be known to other swordsmen. “Yes,” he said again with a nod. “That’s very helpful. We can make inquiries here in the capital. The training schools for young noblemen may know something or point us to someone who does.” Akitada’s mood lifted. “What did he say about this sword?”

“It’s been so long, sir. All I remember is some muttering about ‘my sword’ or ‘where’s my sword,’ or ‘my fine sword.’ Sorry, sir.”

“Never mind. I should have asked him before he got fatally wounded, but my mind was on other matters then. Do you remember anything else? About this praying, for example?”

Tora, though visibly concentrating, shook his head.

They were passing the walled and gated compound of the administration of the Left Capital. Akitada stopped. “I wonder if Haseo spent any time studying swordsmanship. Perhaps the city administration has a record of him.”

“Ah,” said Tora. “Very good! Wish I’d thought of that. But what about Tomoe?”

“Later. Where does this street singer of yours perform?”

“On the tower platform of the Left Market.”

Akitada suppressed a shudder. What had he been thinking of to agree to go to such a public place and listen to a common trollop? “You have low-bred girlfriends,” he said.

“She’s not low-bred and she’s not my girlfriend,” Tora said, a little stiffly. “Can’t a fellow have women friends without sleeping with them?”

“In your case it’s doubtful.” Akitada chuckled as he turned into the offices of the Left Capital. Tora’s romantic pursuits were legion. He felt a great deal better. Tora always had that effect on him because he approached all obstacles with energetic zeal, unlike Akitada, who was invariably torn by conflicting duties and agonized over every decision. Even now, he was guiltily aware that he should be in his office.

The city administration, like other official buildings in the capital, existed in two separate halves, one on each side of Suzaku Avenue, each responsible for its half of the capital. The Right Capital had, soon after its inception, fallen into ruin and ill repute and was now mainly occupied by the poor, the gangs, and a few holdouts. Akitada assumed that Haseo, as a member of the provincial gentry, would have resided in the Left Capital.

Since he was still wearing his official silk robe and stiff gauze hat and was accompanied by a servant, Akitada was greeted by the head clerk, who listened to his question and shook his head. “Utsunomiya? A single gentleman taking lodgings? And this was more than five years ago? Maybe as many as ten? Impossible, my dear sir. There is considerable coming and going in the city. Unless his family maintains property here, we won’t find anything.”