"More likely taking a nap," snorted Takahashi. "He's senile, I'm afraid. But see for yourself."

"How are the students?"

"Blockheads, most of them. What can you expect? Their parents are either doting courtiers who have nothing but pleasure on their minds and don't want the young monsters troubled with work, or they are officials in the provinces where schools are conducted by illiterates."

"Surely you exaggerate," Akitada protested. "Professor Oe spoke very highly of some of his aristocratic pupils, and I understand he uses one of the graduate students to read his papers."

"Oh? I did not know that such a thing is permissible. Since the definition of professional ethics has apparently been modified, perhaps we can all turn over our responsibilities to students and enjoy ourselves in our summer homes. Which graduate student is it?"

"I am afraid I cannot tell you." Akitada had had enough of Takahashi's slanderous comments on everything and everyone, but he could not afford to alienate him. Therefore he said politely, "It has been an honor to meet you, sir, but I am expected in my own department. I think classes are about to start."

"More's the pity! Another day of one's life wasted! But don't let me stifle your enthusiasm. A temporary assignment is, after all, not a life sentence!"

Akitada fled. Outside he gulped fresh air and let the morning breeze cool his temper. When he crossed the street to enter the courtyard of the law school, he thought he saw Nishioka walking away, but the fuzzy topknot could have been anyone's.

Hirata was in an empty classroom arranging seating mats and checking the supply of ink stones, brushes and water containers at every student's place. When he saw Akitada, his face lit up and he asked him about his morning.

Akitada sighed. "I have met several of your colleagues. The experience has been depressing."

Hirata laughed. "Let me guess! Takahashi was one of them?"

"Yes. And an inquisitive fellow called Nishioka, a tipsy lute player with his arms around a prostitute, and a self-proclaimed poet laureate who heaps abuse on his admiring assistant. Oh, and there was also a very rude student who apparently despises them both."

Hirata chuckled. "Ah, yes. You have been busy! The student must have been Ishikawa. He is expected to take first place in the next examinations and is a bit too sure of himself. I fear his arrogance will stand in his way in the future." Hirata's smile faded. "In this world, talent and ability will not suffice if a young man from a poor background does not also have humility and grace."

"What has happened to this place? Nothing seems the same. There are signs of neglect everywhere. The students are arrogant, and the professors malign each other. Surely things were not this way in my day?"

Hirata paused in his arrangements and looked at him. "I'm afraid the times do not favor us. "Then he smiled again. "But come! It isn't so bad. You will like your students, and may come to appreciate some of your colleagues, too."

"Professor Oe claims that the grandson of the late, sainted Prince Yoakira is a student here."

"Oh, yes. Poor boy. He attends your class."

For a moment, Akitada was intrigued but, being pressed for time, he returned to his primary purpose. "I looked at the anteroom of the Temple of Confucius. It seems readily accessible from outside. Do you remember who attended the rites with you?"

Hirata was hanging a large diagram of government organizations on a standing screen. "Oe and Ono were there. They never miss. Takahashi must have been there, but I don't recall seeing him. Nishioka and Tanabe, of course. Fujiwara and Sato I'm not certain about. Fujiwara can be unreliable about such duties, though he is an absolute genius. He drinks, I'm afraid, and Sato is his boon companion. Actually, I think you will like them both when you know them a little better. We also invite our top students, though they don't always accept. Much too tedious for them, I'm afraid. But Ishikawa was there that night, I believe."

"I was surprised to find Sato entertaining women in his rooms. He claimed he was giving a lesson, but it looked like they were practicing something other than the lute."

Hirata raised his brows. "My dear boy," he chided, "you sound like a prude. We have known about Sato's private lessons for some time. They are, of course, theoretically against the rules, but performers and entertainers from the pleasure quarter are eager to learn Sato's technique and the special arrangements he is famous for, and he needs the money. His salary seems to run through his fingers like water and he is always in debt. You must make allowance for the artistic temperament."

"His behavior certainly makes him a target for our blackmailer."

Hirata stopped smiling. "He could never pay such a sum. At least, I would not think so. I hope it isn't Sato. He is a genius and has a large family to support."

"That makes it worse. Anyway, so far he is the only one of your colleagues who is clearly involved in an illegality or immorality. There is another point which has occurred to me. What did your robe look like? Was there another one very similar to yours?"

"Of course! I should have thought of that. It was green silk, with a small white pattern of cherry blossoms. But I don't believe anyone else could have had the same design."

"In the dark a very small pattern might not have shown up. Did anyone else wear green?"

"Tanabe, Fujiwara and Takahashi."

Akitada looked startled. "So many?"

"We are all the same rank. Green is our rank color."

"But not Oe's?"

"Oh no! The head of the Chinese literature department outranks us all by one degree. Oe always wears blue."

"I see. And the others all hold lesser ranks?"

"Yes. Well, it is shameful to admit it, but of my three colleagues in green, I should prefer it to be Takahashi. It would serve him right."

They were interrupted by the clatter of many steps on the wooden stairs and boards of the veranda. Young voices were shouting and laughing.

"Here come your pupils," remarked Hirata with a smile.

"Mine?" Akitada felt a sudden panic. "I thought you were preparing for your own class."

"Oh, no. But don't worry! They are only raw youngsters who need to learn the workings of our government, department by department, before they can study the laws which govern each and by which each governs. You used to know this so well you could have recited it in your sleep."

The door burst open and groups of fresh-faced boys, ranging in age from twelve to eighteen, bowed their way in, found their seats, and knelt, ramrod straight in their neat dark cotton robes. To Akitada's surprise, the last person to enter was easily in his fifties. He too wore a student's robe, bowed, and found his seat. Akitada looked at Hirata.

"That is Mr. Ushimatsu," Hirata whispered. "He has taken a long time to get admitted and will take even longer to pass the first of our examinations, but he tries so very hard that I have become quite fond of him. "Taking Akitada by the arm, Hirata stepped forward and bowed to the class. Akitada quickly followed suit, and the students solemnly bowed back.

"This is your new instructor, Master Sugawara," Hirata announced. "He comes to us from the Ministry of Justice and has recently served as kageyushi. You may ask him anything." Having made this generous promise, Hirata bowed to Akitada and the class and left the room.