Sometime towards evening, Seimei brought in a little package, wrapped carefully in rose-colored silk and tied with pale floss silk. He said with great emphasis and satisfaction, ‘Compliments of the superintendent of police, sir, and his apologies for not being able to deliver it in person. He seemed in a great hurry.’

‘Kobe brought this himself?’ Akitada asked, amazed.

‘With his best wishes for the honorable little daughter.’

‘How very strange!’

Akitada unwrapped the parcel, half expecting some poisonous creature to emerge. But it contained only a child’s fan, exquisitely made and painted with birds and butterflies playing among pink cherry blossoms.

Seimei peered at it short-sightedly. ‘Dear me,’ he said, ‘that must have cost a good deal for such a bauble.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Akitada and thought how very much it was like his image of his little daughter. With some regret, he added, ‘Of course, we must return it.’

‘Return it? Why?’

Akitada shot Seimei a look of reproach. ‘Have you forgotten his insult? I’m surprised he dared send this.’

‘Perhaps he thought the occasion warrants forgetting the past.’

‘Never!’ Akitada pushed the little fan away and rose to his feet. ‘If he thinks he can wipe out all that he has said and done with a child’s toy, he is very mistaken. Wrap it up again and send it back.’

‘Sir, perhaps it would be better to reconsider. Superintendent Kobe has been helpful to you in the past, and at the present time he could still be useful. Why offend the man when he clearly still retains feelings of friendship?’

‘Feelings of friendship?’ Akitada looked at the old man in surprise and wondered if Seimei was becoming senile and forgetful. It was likely, considering his advanced age. Come to think of it, there had been other times when he had seemed out of touch with reality. The sudden thought of Seimei’s approaching death filled him with sadness and calmed his anger. ‘We’ll leave it for the time being,’ he said. ‘Shall we go look in on Tora?’

Tora was clearly miserable. He raised glazed eyes and asked for water. He was not a water drinker. When Akitada touched his forehead, it was cold and clammy rather than dry and hot. When Seimei turned to pour some water from a pitcher into a cup, Akitada saw his face. It filled him with dread. He almost burst out with a question, but bit his lip. There was no point in scaring Tora.

He knelt beside his friend and supported his shoulders while Seimei held the cup to Tora’s dry, cracked lips. Tora drank thirstily. When he was done, he croaked, ‘Sorry, sir. Don’t know what’s come over me. I feel as weak as a baby.’

And in pain, to judge by his expression when he made the slightest move. But the water had refreshed him a little. After a moment, he tried a smile. ‘A great day for you, sir,’ he said. ‘I bet you’ve been busy receiving guests.’

‘Fairly busy. Even Kobe sent a token.’

‘No! The big man came himself?’

‘To the gate only.’

Tora tried another grin. ‘He’ll come around now, you’ll see.’

Akitada shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. To change the subject, I’m free at the moment and thought I’d take up the search for the abbot’s lost boy.’

Tora looked alarmed and struggled upright again. ‘You can’t. It’s too dangerous. If it’s that urgent, I’m sure I could get up in a little while.’

Akitada pushed him back gently. ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d feel insulted,’ he chided. ‘Do you think I cannot handle it myself?’

Tora flushed. ‘N-no, sir. It isn’t that. The trail leads to those hoodlums, and I expect they’re out to get me after what happened. If you show up asking questions, you’ll have both gangs hunting you down.’

Akitada frowned. ‘Gangs? I thought we were talking about some young troublemakers. Maybe it’s time the police looked into activities around the Western Market. I assume that’s where you made contact?’

Tora looked very uncomfortable. ‘Hoshina has her wine shop there. She knows where Jirokichi is, and Jirokichi knows something about the fires. But the gangs hang out farther west from there.’ He described the warehouse area and the Fragrant Peach. ‘If you do go there, sir, you must take some police constables with you. The local warden is no use whatsoever. They all protect each other.’

Akitada attempted to get more information about his progress with the missing acolyte, but Tora had exhausted his strength. He rambled on about the fires, a serving wench and her boyfriend, and the young lord. He shivered a good deal and seemed to have trouble concentrating. At one point, he did grasp the urgency of all the questions and argued about getting up again. Eventually, his voice faded, and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

‘Sir,’ whispered Seimei, ‘I think we’d better go now. I’ll make him a strengthening broth for his supper later and mix in something to dull the pain and help him rest. After that we must hope that his strong young body will heal quickly.’

Akitada was very worried about Tora. He returned to his room and wandered out into the garden. It was dusk, and the warm air was heavy with the scents of summer. The sky was that lavender hue just before it would dull to gray. A few pale clouds scudded across it, their skirts still gilded by the last rays of the sun. One of the carp in the pool jumped and fell back with a soft splash. For a moment, the sound took his eyes to the thickening darkness below. When he raised them again, even that last faint light had gone.

The joy of the day had passed.

It seemed strange that nobody had become suspicious that the fires always started at night when most householders were asleep with their hearth fires and lamps extinguished. Some had been blamed on lightning. There had been thunderstorms around the time of the fires. That, too, seemed strange. Why set a fire, if the rain would put it out again? And why had the police not investigated? Of course, if the arson was connected to extortion, the victims might have covered up the truth for fear of further retribution.

Akitada had reached that point in his rumination when Seimei came out. The old man’s face told him that there was bad news. Akitada’s thoughts flew to Tora, but Seimei said, ‘A messenger from the Board of Censors, sir.’

Akitada went inside and found a stiff-faced, stiff-backed young man in the uniform of a lieutenant of the outer palace guard. The lieutenant did not bother to salute. He demanded, ‘Are you Sugawara Akitada of the Ministry of Justice?’

Akitada’s heart plummeted into his stomach. ‘Yes, but I no longer serve there.’

‘You are to report tomorrow.’ The lieutenant handed over a rolled document, turned sharply on his heel, and marched out of the room, followed by Seimei.

Akitada untied the ribbon and unrolled a formal letter. It ordered him to appear before a committee of censors to answer charges of ‘acts against the public interest and for personal gain.’

His knees felt so weak he had to sit down. If he was found guilty, he could well be banished from the capital. And even if they did not go that far, he would never get another position. His hopes of a new future for his family were gone, wiped out as if they had never been – immaterial and fleeting as the clouds.

THE CENSORS

The Danjōdai, or Board of Censors, occupied buildings directly across the street from the Ministry of Justice. During the performance of his duties as ministerial clerk and secretary, Akitada had had occasion to deal with these feared investigators of all sorts of offenses committed by officials. Some of those occasions had been most unpleasant, but none more so than this one.

These days, the forty-odd censors had little to occupy them beyond inspections of the books of outgoing governors. Most of their judicial tasks had been taken over by the Ministry of Justice or the Capital Police. But the bureau persisted and guarded its ancient privileges jealously, reporting on officials from the sixth rank up and examining misdeeds of those below that rank. The censors enjoyed the status of the office, along with the income, without being overly burdened with work or responsibility.