Oh, Toshikage, thought Akitada again. Aloud he said, “It all depends on the seller and the dealer. I have been away for a long time. Who might buy such things for resale?”

“If it’s dealers in antiquities you mean, I only know Nichira. His store is near the eastern market. But since I am hardly in a position to squander my money on such baubles, I am not the best person to ask. As for private collectors, well, it could be anybody. All the Fujiwaras have the wealth, and several of them have famous pieces. Kanesuke, for example, and Michitaka, and the chancellor, of course. And then there is Prince Akimoto. But surely you cannot mean to visit any of them?”

Akitada shook his head. “Not the great men, certainly. I might look in on some of the dealers and antiquarians, though. That will do for a start. Meanwhile, I want you to make an initial report that you cannot locate certain items and wish to take an inventory.”

Toshikage looked unhappy but promised.

Before Akitada could change the subject to something more pleasant, Akiko came back. “Mother wants to see you, Akitada.”

His spirits sinking further, Akitada rose and went to his mother’s room. Yoshiko was sitting next to the pile of bedding which covered the frail body. Lady Sugawara fixed her son with a glare from eyes sunken into the hollows of her thin face. Her pale skin flushed unnaturally. She snapped, “Surely you did not report to the controllers looking like that?”

Akitada glanced down at his disreputable gown in dismay. He should have remembered to change before coming to see her. He said apologetically, “I am afraid so. You see, I have not brought any suitable clothes, and you insisted I go immediately.”

Lady Sugawara sucked in her breath sharply and turned her head away. “Oh! You are impossible!” she moaned. “You did this to spite me! No doubt you wish me dead and hope to speed me on my way by shaming me publicly. Go away! I cannot bear to look at you.”

Outside in the corridor, Akitada stopped and took a deep breath to control the sudden sickness which rose in his belly like a live thing. She was an old woman and in pain, he reminded himself. He must not mind so much. Perhaps she did not mean it.

But the logic was in vain. He was both angry and sorry now that he had rushed home, hoping to make his peace with at least one parent before death parted them forever.

Instead of returning to Toshikage and his sister, Akitada went to his own room, where he sat until night fell, staring out at the dark garden until Yoshiko came.

“Toshikage and Akiko have left,” she announced, adding, “You have no light.” She went on silent feet to light a lamp, and brought it over to him. Sitting down near him, she waited. When

Akitada made no move to talk, she asked, “Will you eat something if I join you?”

He looked at her thin, drawn face and felt guilty. “Yes. Of course.” He tried a smile. “Please do join me. I hate to eat alone.”

They shared a simple meal, and when they were done, Yoshiko said hesitantly, “You may have to return to the palace soon. It occurs to me that we have a very nice piece of dark blue silk. Will you let me sew you another gown? I am very handy with my needle.”

He was touched. “Thank you. It is a good idea, but one of the servants can do it.”

“I am much better at it. I made Akiko’s gown.”

He recalled the elegant appearance of his other sister. “Did you? It was quite beautiful. I had no idea you have such talents.” A thought occurred to him. “If I buy some silks tomorrow, will you sew two robes, one for you and one for me?”

She looked down at the plain cotton gown she wore. “I do not need anything. Fine silk is wasted on mere housework and nursing.”

“It would give me pleasure to see you in it when we share our meals.”

She smiled with sudden affection. “In that case, yes. Thank you, Elder Brother.”

Akitada went shopping the next morning. Leaving the house to the accompaniment of the monks’ chants, he felt as if he were escaping from a prison. The weather was warm and sunny, and even the bare willows of Suzaku Avenue made a fine show against the limpid blue sky. The recent rain seemed to have washed the world clean, and the ordinary people in the streets looked remarkably tidy. The great thoroughfare bustled with foot traffic, ox carriages of noble gentlemen and ladies, and riders on urgent business.

He passed the red-lacquered gate of the Temple of the City God and turned right into the business quarters of the capital. Here well-dressed shoppers mingled with bare-chested porters carrying heavy bales and boxes on their backs. An occasional red-coated constable, bow and quiver slung across his shoulder, kept an eye out for pickpockets.

The increased traffic and noise told him that he was approaching the markets, and he turned into a street of large shops, looking for silk dealers and antiquarians.

He found Nichira’s almost immediately. Whitewashed plaster walls and high screened windows covered with dark wooden fretwork faced the street. A sign announced proudly, “Nichira’s Treasure House of Antiquities,” but the shop door was plain. Akitada walked through and found himself in a stone-paved entryway just below a raised platform of polished wood. The wooden floor stretched all the way to the dim back of the building. As far as he could see, the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, and rows of raised tables stood everywhere, forming passages crisscrossing the central space.

From nowhere, a thin young man appeared at Akitada’s side and knelt to help him with his shoes. Stepping out of his own clogs, he led Akitada up onto the wooden floor, bowed, and asked what his honor would like to see.

“Hmm,” said Akitada, glancing around him. Every surface of shelf space and every tabletop were covered with objects. There seemed to be hundreds of small boxes of every description, and thousands of small ceramic and porcelain vessels. The shelves held figurines and masks, rolled scrolls and yellowed books, lamps and candlesticks, carved writing utensils and jade seals, games and musical instruments, religious as well as secular items. “May I look around?”

The assistant bowed, and followed Akitada around the room. Closer inspection proved that none of the objects on display were of sufficient antiquity to qualify as imperial treasures. Akitada gave up. Turning to the assistant, he asked, “Do you perhaps have a very old lute?”

The assistant bowed again and led him back to one of the shelves. It held some twenty different instruments, all of them nice, but none old enough to be “Nameless.” Frowning, Akitada pursed his lips and said, “No, no. Nothing so ordinary will do. Don’t you have something really special? Really old?”

The young man hesitated, then said, “Perhaps Mr. Nichira had better be called.”

Mr. Nichira duly appeared. He was short, fat, and quite self-possessed. Casting an appraising eye over Akitada’s brocade hunting robe, he bowed. “I am told the gentleman is looking for a very special old lute? Might I have some particulars about the instrument?”

Akitada bit his lip. They were getting on dangerous ground. How to ask for an object without describing it in recognizable detail? He pretended ignorance. “Yes. Well…” he said, glancing helplessly around the large room. “Not necessarily a lute, but something really special…. I suppose it need not be a lute as long as it is rare… it is a gift for someone highly placed, you see… very highly placed.”

To his relief, Mr. Nichira smiled. “I quite understand. It is not always easy to find just the right thing for a connoisseur, is it?”

Akitada raised his shoulders helplessly. “No. I thought… But perhaps you might know better what…” He let his voice trail off.

“Quite. Might I ask your honored name?”

“Sugawara.”