In Naniwa, they walked to the government hostel.  The fat man sat in his usual place.  There was no sign of the little girl.  The manager eyed them glumly.

“You had a visitor,” he told Akitada.  “Right after you left.  Ugliest bastard I ever saw.  He left this.”  With a smirk, he produced a badly wrapped package that seemed to contain a scroll.  “I told him you’d gone and I didn’t know if you’d be back, but he said to keep it and he’d be back to pick it up if you didn’t show.  Only he never came back.”

Akitada stared at the package and then at the fat man.  It was clear that someone had opened and then rewrapped the package clumsily.  He took it and said coldly, “Thank you.  We’ll share a room.  Bring our saddlebags.”

The fat manager got to his feet with difficulty, grabbed a saddlebag in each fist and lumbered down the corridor.  He took them to the same room Akitada had occupied before and collected his tip.

“Where’s your daughter?” asked Tora.

“With her mother,” that man said and lumbered out.

“I wonder how the child is.”  Tora looked after him with a frown.

“Let’s hope her mother is looking after her better than her father was.”  Akitada was unwrapping the package.  It turned out to be no more than a piece of bamboo pipe of the sort used in gardens to direct water into a basin.  It should be hollow, but he could not see through it.  He shook it and heard a soft sound inside.  He looked about the room, then stepped out into the small yard where he saw a dry stick and used that to probe inside the tube.  Some brown fibers fell out.  He poked harder, and more fibers emerged, and then a small, heavy object wrapped in a piece of paper fell into his hand.  When he unfolded the paper, he saw the Korean amulet.  The ugly man had returned it.

“What is it?” asked Tora.

“It’s an amulet I bought and lost.  Apparently, someone found it for me.”  Akitada tucked the coin away in his sash.  No sense in further stirring Tora’s interest in the dead girl from Eguchi.  “Let’s have an early night.  I plan to see the prefect in the morning.  Nakahara is useless, but he did inform me that Munata is a close associate of the governor’s.  If one of the two is a villain, then the other is also, and Munata is less likely to slip away to the capital.  What about you?”

Tora stepped out on the veranda and sniffed the air.  “I’ll go to Kawajiri.  To that hostel.”

Akitada nodded.  “The Hostel of the Flying Cranes.”  He looked at Tora’s neat blue robe, his black hat, and good boots.  “But not in those clothes, I hope.”

“No, of course, not.  I’ll change into some rags, but I’ll take my sword.  It’s short, and an old jacket swill cover it.  I may be gone for a couple of days.  Will you be all right?”

“Yes.  It’s you who is going into the tiger’s lair.  Be careful.”

Chapter Sixteen

Family Ties

The next morning, Akitada walked to the district prefecture, ruminating about the return of the Korean amulet.

Why had the ugly man returned it?  If he had taken it in the first place, what had made him change his mind?  If he had not taken it, how had he found it?  Hiding it inside the bamboo pipe made more sense.  He had clearly taken the measure of the fat man.  But the rest of his impressive feats still bordered on the unreal.

Before setting out, Akitada had looked at the amulet again.  Otomo was right.  It was too finely made to have belonged to a mere courtesan.  If he had the time, he would return to Eguchi with the amulet and get to the bottom of this mystery.

 Having got this far, Akitada saw the prefecture looming ahead and forced his mind back to the piracy case.  What, for example, should he make of the close ties between Governor Oga, a court noble assigned to the province for the customary four years, and Prefect Munata, a local landowner?

Professor Otomo also claimed acquaintance with the governor.  He had taught his son, but was that a sufficient reason for Nakahara to have invited him to his party?  He was a poor academic, quite clearly a different species from the others.  The governor and the prefect, two powerful men, had not treated him precisely as an equal, but they had accepted his presence.  Yes, Otomo’s role in all this was another puzzle.

He was received politely at the prefecture, but Munata’s assistant told him that the prefect was still at his residence outside the city and not expected until later that day.

Impatient at the delay, Akitada demanded a horse and a guide, and set out for Munata’s home.

Munata clearly owned a substantial property.  The compound extended over several acres and had an impressive roofed double gate.  This gate stood open, so that Akitada rode all the way across the wide entrance court to the steps of the main house where he dismounted.  Servants came running to take his horse.  More servants ran down the stairs to receive him.  Near a secondary gate, leading perhaps to stables and retainers’ quarters, a group of men with bows had gathered near their horses.  They were apparently preparing to hunt, but Akitada thought of the armed retainers who had attacked his home.

Self-interest governed allegiance, and Munata would not willingly take actions that conflicted with Oga’s interests, but had he gone so far as to dispatch two of his men in order to frighten Akitada into leaving Naniwa?

His arrival had caused initial consternation, but after some running back and forth of agitated servants, Munata himself appeared to welcome Akitada into his reception hall.

He was dressed more elegantly than last time.  No plain black robe on this occasion.  He wore a red hunting coat of figured brocade and blue silk trousers.  Perhaps he had only worn the black robe because he had come from work in the prefecture, or because he had not wanted to upstage the governor.  Clearly, here he was the master and overlord of his domain.

His reception hall also revealed wealth and hereditary status.  A large silk banner with his family crest hung over the dais, and the beams and columns were carved and colored.

Munata invited Akitada to sit and then seated himself with a rustle of his stiff red coat.  “We had thought you had left us for good, Lord Sugawara,” he said with a smile.

“No such luck.  I returned from court with instructions for the governor and thought to find him here.”

“Ah, yes.”  Munata folded his hands.  “He does stay here frequently.  But he has the affairs of the province to deal with.  Hearing court cases and settling land disputes, you know.  He’s a most conscientious official.”

Akitada said coldly.  “I know quite well what a governor does, having served in that capacity myself.”

Munata lost some of his composure.  He bowed.  “My apologies.  How may I be of service?”

“You will oblige me by sending for him.”

“Sending for him? Surely you jest.  I cannot send for the governor.”

Akitada raised his brows.  “I would hope that you do so, for example, in cases of district emergencies.  But if you don’t feel empowered to ask him to return, I will.  Call in a clerk, and I’ll dictate a letter.”

Munata flushed and obeyed.  An elderly man appeared, carrying a small desk and writing tools.  He bowed to Akitada, sat, and immediately began to rub ink and ready his brush.

Akitada dictated, “To Governor Oga Maro:  You are hereby requested to return to the Naniwa prefecture immediately to receive the instructions of His Most Honored Excellency, Fujiwara Sanesuke, Grand Minister of the Right.  Signed, Sugawara Akitada, Imperial Investigator.”

The title of “imperial investigator” was one that Sanesuke (or his senior secretary, since the great man did not necessarily dictate letters) had used in Akitada’s own instructions.  It proved to be useful on this occasion, since imperial investigators could subsume powers not necessarily available to a mere senior secretary in the Ministry of Justice. When the clerk was done, Akitada read the letter, corrected one character, and then impressed his seal to it.  “Very well,” he said to Munata, who had been sitting speechless, nervously twisting his hands.  “Have a messenger deliver this immediately.  I expect the governor tomorrow.”