The man looked depressed. ‘Thanks, but it’s been slow since the murder.’

Tora pretended surprise. ‘Murder? Here in the street?’

‘No. Inside. Lord Kiyowara.’

Tora gaped at the open gate and the rooflines beyond the tall wall. ‘A great lord! Karma is in the turning of a wheel,’ he said piously.

‘Makes you think,’ said the dumpling seller, waving away a wasp attracted by his sweet bean paste. ‘They say it’s all decided when you’re born. So does that mean the murder’s also planned before the killer’s even suckled at his mother’s breast? If that’s so, then he can’t help himself when the time comes. He has to kill the man he’s ordained to kill.’

Tora stared at him. Dumpling sellers were not, as a rule, philosophical. ‘My master doesn’t believe that,’ he said after a moment. ‘Murderers are selfish bastards who please no one but themselves. That’s what we have the devils in hell for. To punish them for taking another person’s life.’

The dumpling seller smirked. ‘Lord Kiyowara needed killing. He was an evil man. What about that? Does the murderer still deserve to go to hell?’

Tora frowned. He did not want to engage in a pointless argument about karma, but it was an opening. ‘How was he evil?’ he asked.

The dumpling man barked a nasty laugh. ‘Stupid question. All the great lords do evil things. They wouldn’t be great otherwise. This one took what he wanted and never cared what happened to others.’

‘What did he take?’

‘Anything he wanted. Land, money, women.’ ‘Women? He chased women?’ The man rolled his eyes.

Tora finished his dumpling and wiped his hands on his trousers. ‘All real men chase women. What did he do? Rape a nun?’

But the dumpling man shook his head. Perhaps he thought he had said too much already. ‘There’s talk,’ he said vaguely. ‘Don’t quote me.’

Tora changed the subject. ‘Were you here the day he was killed?’

The man looked at him a moment. ‘You want another dumpling while you’re wasting my time?’

Tora laughed at this – the dumpling man had not had any other customer and nobody had stopped at his stand – but he shelled out another copper. ‘Well?’ he asked, biting into the dumpling.

‘I was here.’

‘So maybe you saw the fellow that did everyone such a big favor. Anybody in particular?’

The man gestured at the street. ‘People come and go here all the time. How should I know what their business is?’

That might be true, but having been conned out of another copper, Tora was not giving up so easily. ‘Come, you’re a man of experience, a man who thinks. I bet you noticed something out of the ordinary.’

‘Nothing to do with the murder.’

‘Ah! Something did happen. Let’s hear it.’ Tora swallowed the last of the dumpling and adjusted his sash, causing his string of coppers to clink.

‘Well,’ the dumpling man said, eyeing the sash, ‘not that it means anything, I’m sure, but the young lord rode down the fan seller.’

‘Rode down the fan seller?’ Tora glanced at the old woman in the distance. ‘Why?’

The vendor shook his head. ‘He’s a good rider as a rule and well-behaved for one of them. He even threw me a piece of silver once. But that day, the kid came galloping out of the gate as if demons were after him. He whipped his horse mercilessly and had a face as black as the thunder god. The old woman was standing down there, at the street corner, selling her fans – it was hot as blazes and business was good. He took the corner too fast and the horse knocked her down. You could hear the crack it made up and down the street. Her stuff went flying everywhere. She screamed and fell into a fit. One of the boys ran to get the constables and they carried her away like a dead woman. It’s a miracle she didn’t die from it.’

‘His face was black? You mean he painted his face black?’ Tora asked, astonished.

The man gave him a look. ‘No. Of course not. Black with anger. He looked like the god of thunder or… well, like Fudo. You do know who Fudo is?’

Tora nodded. Fudo was one of the heavenly generals. He was always depicted as snarling ferociously. ‘So what do you think made him so angry?’

But the man did not know.

Down the street, Tora saw a tall female who looked like a fortune-teller. She was coming slowly in their direction. He nodded towards her and asked, ‘Is she a regular?’

The dumpling man looked. ‘She comes and goes. I don’t know what she’s up to. She walks right in and out through the gate.’ He shuddered. ‘With that look on her face, she must frighten customers away.’

Tora watched her with interest. She was tall, and both her expression and appearance were off-putting. Her clothes were made of rough white hemp, and her shawl was a deep red. Thick strands of beads and amulets hung about her neck and decorated her arms and the ankles above her bare feet. And her hair was a wild and tangled mane. But Tora looked beyond the scowl and saw that she was young and beautiful.

He grinned. ‘Why would a man be scared by a beauty like that?’

The dumpling man eyed him slyly. ‘Why don’t you go talk to her?’

Tora went to meet the fortune-teller at the open gates. She was going to enter, but Tora stepped in her path, flashing his wide smile. Few women could resist him when he smiled, but this one stopped and stared back with a face like stone.

What a beauty, he thought, even with that wild hair and those angry eyes. A man could lose himself in both. She was like some wild thing, and he itched to tame her. Not that he was being disloyal to his Hanae, but no real man could resist dreaming a little with such a challenge.

‘Greetings, my pretty little sister,’ he said, making her a bow. ‘I could use a good fortune told by a beautiful woman. How much will you charge me?’

She gave a shudder. ‘I’m not your sister. Go away.’

She had a striking voice, deep, almost masculine, but this was not the way to do business. Tora’s eyes narrowed, searching her face and body. Could it be a man in woman’s garb and a wig? He was not easily fooled in sexual matters, but her robe was full and he could not make out the shape of breasts under those thick strands of beads. Her hands were somewhat large but slender enough for a woman. And the face was smooth, but some men had little or no beard.

‘Are you deaf?’ the fortune-teller asked, raising her voice. ‘Scram! I have no time for lazy louts.’

Tora had no time for males in women’s clothing, but the problem was an interesting one. If this was a man, what was he doing here, dressed as a woman, and going to the Kiyowara mansion? And if a woman, why did she turn custom away?

He was about to follow up on the mystery when voices and hoof beats sounded inside the compound. Then a young rider on a very fine dapple-gray horse rode out of the gate. They both stepped out of the way.

Tora sucked in a breath. The horse was magnificent, tail flicking, ears perked, and red tassels swinging at every step. He loved fine horses, and this one was superb. Its rider was also easy on the eye: a slender youth dressed in a fine dark-green silk robe over full white trousers tucked into embroidered black boots. He sat the animal well and had a very handsome face.

He stopped before the fortune-teller, who bowed. ‘Mother asked for you,’ he said, then he spurred his fine horse and rode away. The fortune-teller watched his receding back for a moment, then walked through the gate.

Tora decided she was a female. She was tall for a woman and moved with great economy, walking erect and with a firm step, but her gait was a woman’s. What a creature! His face grew hot at the thought of bedding her.

Mildly ashamed, he rejoined the dumpling man, who said, ‘That was the young lord I told you about. Did he tell her to go in? I wonder what they want with her.’

Tora decided to share the information. You never knew when the dumpling man, so conveniently positioned, would become useful again. ‘Her Ladyship sent for her, it seems.’