by I. J. Parker
“Where have you been?” Tora demanded. “I thought you were going to be my servant.”
“Sorry, master. I was working for you all morning. Had to advance my own money to get some information.”
Tora looked at him suspiciously. “What information?”
“Nobody has seen Master Wada anywhere.”
Tora grabbed Turtle by the neck and shook him. “You crook,” he cried. “You think I’ll pay for that kind of news? You’re fired.” He pushed the small man away in disgust.
“No, no. Wait. There’s more. Today he sent a message to old Motoko.”
“Who’s old Motoko?”
“She keeps whores and makes assignations.”
“Ah.” Tora felt a thrill of satisfaction. “So the bastard is at it again. Do you know what he plans to do?”
Turtle shook his head regretfully. “Motoko won’t talk to me. We’re competition.”
“Well, I was going to look for him tonight anyway. I’ll stop by the Golden Phoenix again. Maybe this new girl is as big a fool as Little Flower.”
“I can find out for you,” wheedled Turtle.
“Can you? Good. Do it.”
Turtle’s face fell. “You mean now? Before I eat? And aren’t you going to pay me what you owe?”
“If you’re quick about it, there’ll be some food left. What do I owe you?”
Turtle mentioned a reasonable amount, and Tora paid. Turtle looked at the coppers in his hand thoughtfully and said, “You know, sometimes it costs more. For example, the Golden Phoenix is very expensive.”
Tora snapped, “I don’t expect you to go there as a paying customer. If you have any brains, you should be able to ask one of the waiters or servants if the Willow Cottage is still available.”
Before leaving his room, Tora gave his half armor, the helmet, and the long sword a longing glance, but he settled for his short sword, tucked out of sight under the loose jacket.
As before, he sat down to dinner with Oyoshi’s family. Turtle was not back, but his sister had laid a cushion for him. There was, however, another guest tonight. Little Flower, dressed more modestly and without paint on her face, knelt next to Oyoshi, ostensibly to help with the children.
Tora saw her with a slight panic, but approved of her appearance and told her so. She blushed and smiled shyly. He was struck by how much she resembled the young women with whom he usually flirted and he smiled at her.
“You look very handsome also,” she murmured, encouraged by his compliment. “Why are you not wearing your uniform tonight?”
Her question reminded Tora of his failed efforts with Wada and he became glum again. “I don’t know what I’ll get into tonight,” he said grimly. “Better not ruin the uniform. Some people have no respect for an honest military man.”
Instantly she looked alarmed. “What are you going to do?”
Tora was touched by her concern, but thought it best to sound manly and determined. “I’m going to get that bastard Wada tonight. If I have to, I’ll fight him, his constables, and the local guard to find my master.”
“Oh, no! You’ll get yourself killed,” she moaned, turning quite pale.
“Well,” he snapped, hurt by her lack of confidence, “since you’re in no shape to set the bastard up for me, I’ll have to get him any way I can.”
Little Flower gave a small sob and ran from the room.
Oyoshi said reprovingly, “You shouldn’t tease her so. She’s fallen in love with you.”
Tora stared at her. “She hardly knows me. Why would she do a stupid thing like that?”
“Oh, you men!” Oyoshi refilled his bowl with large chunks of some excellent grilled fish and topped this off with stewed eggplant and mushrooms. “Little Flower has never met a man like you before.” She gave him an appraising look as she passed the food across. “She says you’re as handsome as Genji, as strong and brave as Fudo, and as loving and kind as the goddess Kannon herself.”
“Nonsense.” Tora blushed and turned his attention to his food and to joking with Oyoshi’s children.
Turtle returned, out of breath and with an anxious eye to the leftovers. He announced, “Nobody’s reserved the Golden Phoenix’s cottage tonight or tomorrow night.” He snatched the bowl his sister had filled from her hand and fell to.
“I hope you had the brains to ask if Wada ever comes as a regular customer,” Tora growled.
“Never,” mumbled Turtle through a mouthful of food. “The food’s no good and the charge too high. He eats and drinks in the Crane Grove or at Tomoe’s restaurant.”
“Hmm. We’ll start with them first. You can come along as soon as you’ve stuffed your belly.” He stretched and readjusted the sword under his sash.
Turtle’s eyes widened. He lowered his bowl, his face shocked. “You’re going to make trouble. Somebody’s going to get hurt. I think I’ll stay home.”
Tora gave him a look of disgust. “Nonsense. I may need you. But you can wait outside for me. Just be there when I come out.”
They left soon after. It was almost dark and the wind still blew sharp from the sea, signaling the end of summer. The streets were nearly empty. People had gone home to eat their rice, or to one of the wine shops whose lights winked invitingly up and down the main street of Mano.
When they did not find Wada at either of the establishments Turtle had mentioned, Tora began a systematic search of all the restaurants and low dives, looking grimmer by the minute.
He did not see Wada but had another kind of success. In one crowded wine shop, a burly guest rose when he heard Tora’s question and walked over. “Who wants to know where the lieutenant is?” he demanded in a belligerent tone.
Tora’s hopes lifted marginally. “The name’s Akaishi. Who are you?”
“Ikugoro. Sergeant of constables. So what’s your business with the lieutenant?”
“I have a few questions. Maybe you’ll do.” Tora gestured with his thumb toward a quiet corner.
The other man’s small eyes narrowed even further. “What makes you think I’ll talk to you?”
Tora looked around. He did not want to pay for wine for one of Wada’s thugs, but a brawl would get him nowhere and cause people to get hurt. The three men Ikugoro had been sitting with were watching. Inspiration came to his assistance. He dug his faked dispatch with its official seals from his sash and held it before Ikugoro’s face. The light was bad and he didn’t think the sergeant could read in any case. “I shouldn’t be showing you this,” he said in a low voice, “but since you’re his second in command, I’ll let you in on a little secret. As you see”—he pointed to the first line of writing—“I’m an inspector for the imperial police in the capital. It’s my duty to visit different provinces to check up on our appointees.” Looking around in case someone was listening, he quickly put his document away again.
Ikugoro’s face had fallen almost comically. “B-but what do you want with our lieutenant? Is anything wrong?”
“No, no.” Tora chuckled. “On the contrary. He’s applied for promotion and transfer to the capital and it looks like it’ll be approved. I’m to clear up a few details before they act on it. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit behind schedule already and need to grab the next boat back to the mainland.”
Ikugoro’s eyes had grown round. Belatedly he came to attention and tried to salute.
Tora snatched his arm down. “Don’t be a fool. I’m incognito, of course.”
“Oh, sorry, sir. It’s just . . . the surprise. Lieutenant Wada never mentioned to me that he wanted to leave.”
“No. He wouldn’t. It’s one of the rules. He’d be disqualified if he let it get out that he planned to leave. You can see why.”
Ikugoro nodded slowly. “Right. All hell would break loose. But . . .” He frowned. “You say his promotion is pretty certain? And then he’ll leave here? And someone else will come to take his place?”
Tora could see that such a change and its impact on him troubled the sergeant deeply. He leaned
closer. “You’re his number two man,” he whispered. “Most likely you’d be the one.”
Ikugoro’s small eyes widened again. Casting a nervous glance toward his companions, he said, “We’ll talk over there in the corner, sir. I’ll just tell my men it’s private business.”
When he returned, Ikugoro ordered the best wine in the house and paid for it. “The lieutenant was supposed to stop by tonight,” he said, “but something must’ve come up.” He winked and touched his crotch.
Tora emptied his cup, smacking his lips. “A ladies’ man, eh? He’ll be glad to get back to the big city, then. I bet he’s running out of fresh fare by now.”
Ikugoro laughed. “The lieutenant’s got plenty of money. He buys what he wants.” He leaned across to refill Tora’s cup. “So tell me, sir, how likely is it that I’ll get his job?”
“Provided I get my information and his application is approved, it depends on him.”
“It does?”
“Will he speak up for you? You know, praise your brains, hard work, organizational skills, devotion to law enforcement, and honesty?” Ikugoro’s face lengthened. “If he puts in a really good word, it’ll save the government sending a new man all the way from the capital.”
Ikugoro pondered this; then his face lit up. “Hah,” he laughed. “It’s done, then. He’d better write all that if he knows what’s good for him.”
“How do you mean?”
But Ikugoro apparently decided it was wiser not to mention certain details of their relationship that made him sure Wada would oblige. Instead he said, “Suppose my men and I start looking for him and send him to you? Where are you staying?”
Thinking quickly, Tora gave the name of an inn they had passed earlier. It was in a quiet part of town. He thought he could lie in wait for Wada and jump him when he came hotfoot to check out the news. He added, “Don’t mention that I told you about his application. Just say an inspector from the capital wants to discuss his reassignment.” They parted on friendly terms, and Tora rejoined Turtle outside. He found him in agitated conversation with his eldest nephew.
“What are you doing out on the streets this time of night?” Tora asked the boy.
“Mom sent me. I’ve been looking for you for hours. She says to come home right away. Little Flower’s in some sort of trouble.”
Tora cursed roundly. “Go tell your mother I haven’t got time to go chasing all over town because of some stupid woman.”
Turtle looked shocked. He said, “Oyoshi won’t like it. She’s taken to that girl. We’d better go see what happened. It’s not far.”
Tora gritted his teeth, but gave in. He hoped Ikugoro would not find Wada right away.
They found Oyoshi pacing up and down by a cold hearth to keep herself warm in the frigid drafts that whistled through the cracks. “There you are,” she cried when she saw Tora. “Where have you been? I’ve been going out of my mind with worry. It’s been hours. He’s probably killed her by now.”
“What did she do?” asked Tora, glowering.
Oyoshi wrung her hands. “Oh, the stupid girl. But it’s all your fault. Men!”
Tora clenched his fists to keep from strangling her. Turtle gave him a worried glance and told his sister, “The officer is an honored guest in your house, sister. You should not speak to him this way.”
Oyoshi flushed and bowed. “Oh, sorry. It’s the worry. Please forgive what I said, sir. It was very improper. Especially when you have been so generous.”
“Forget it and get on with the story,” Tora ground out.
“After you and my brother left, Little Flower came to me, all dressed up for work. She said she was going to the Golden Phoenix to meet that bastard Wada and to tell you so you could catch him. Oh, dear. It was such a long time ago. You must go immediately. The fool! She wanted to help you.”
Tora turned on his heel and headed out the door, his face grim and his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Come on,” he flung over his shoulder to Turtle. But on the street, he came to a halt. “No. Go back in and get my things,” he said. Digging in his sash, he passed a handful of money to Turtle. “Then run to the post station outside town and hire three horses. Bring the horses to the shrine behind the Golden Phoenix and wait for me.”
A party was in full swing at the Golden Phoenix. Lights blazed in the main house, ribald songs and shrill laughter of women came from inside, and a drunk vomited into the gutter near the entrance. Tora, grateful that his clothes were dark, slipped past him into the garden. Someone had thoughtfully lit an oil lamp in a stone lantern marking the path to the cottage.
It was occupied. Dim lights glimmered behind the closed shutters.
Taking off his boots, Tora climbed the steps in his bare feet, testing each before he put his weight on it. Outside the door he paused and listened. At first he thought nothing had happened yet, but then he heard a soft moan, followed by a male murmur and a rich chuckle that sent chills down his spine. He stretched out his hand to fling open the door, when common sense reminded him that a woman’s moan might denote pleasure as well as pain, and that someone else might have rented the cottage after all. He could hardly burst in on a pair of strangers without causing trouble.
He crept toward the nearest shuttered window, crouched down, and peered through a chink. A narrow field of vision showed only the naked leg and bare buttock of a man standing upright. Just beyond the muscular leg was another, paler, and more slender leg of a woman. But the legs might belong to anyone.
There was another moan. What were they doing? Making love standing up? Why not? He had done it himself.
Tora was about to rise a little to look for another chink when he saw a thin red line creeping down the woman’s leg. A second joined it before he realized that what he saw was blood.
He freed his sword and was at the door in an instant. It was locked. With a roar of rage and frustration, he stepped back and threw himself at it. The wood splintered and gave with a crash, and Tora burst into the room.
He took in the scene at a glance. Wada, also with a short sword in his hand, pulled away from Little Flower, who was leaning against one of the pillars. Both were naked and their bodies were crimson with blood.
A second glance showed why. Wada had been cutting Little Flower’s breasts and belly with the sharp blade of his sword. She was covered with crisscrossing cuts, not deep enough to kill but enough to cover her and Wada with blood. When she saw Tora, she gave a little sob and sagged against the ropes that tied her wrists behind the pillar.
Wada cursed viciously, his face distorted with fury, and came for Tora with his bloody sword.
Tora, tall and athletic, had been rigorously active all of his life. Wada was shorter, older, and had gone soft about the middle from too much good living and debauchery. It should have been easy. Tora stepped aside, thinking to disarm the man in one swift, smooth movement. But Wada, for all his years of bad living, had one advantage. Unlike Tora, he had been trained by a master in the military arts, and his use of the sword had become instinctive.
Thus Wada corrected instantly and slashed at Tora’s belly so quickly that only Tora’s alertness and youth allowed him to twist aside in time. He bit his lip and concentrated on blocking Wada’s blade, which seemed to come at him from all directions. The man’s technique was far superior to his own, and he could only count on the fact that Wada’s fury would cause him to make a mistake sooner or later. And even then, he could not kill the man. Everything depended on his taking Wada alive.
In the end, it was neither Wada’s superior swordsmanship nor Tora’s cool deliberation that ended the fight. Part of the broken door separated from its frame and fell; Wada dodged, stepped into some of Little Flower’s blood, and slipped, sinking momentarily to one knee. Tora moved forward instantly, hitting Wada’s sword arm hard with the flat side of his blade and disarming him.
Wada’s sword skittered into a corner, and Wada clutched his arm, doubling up in pain. Tora dropped his sword, then bent and raised Wada�
�s head by its topknot. “You’re finished, bastard,” he hissed, and struck him full in the face with his fist. Blood spurted from Wada’s nose and mouth and he passed out.
Taking up his sword again, Tora went to Little Flower and cut her loose. She collapsed into his arms, whimpering softly. “That was a stupid thing to do,” he scolded. “He might’ve killed you.”
She gulped and mumbled, “I thought you’d never come. He started cutting deep when I told him about you.”
She was clinging to him, and he thought he felt blood seeping through his robe. “Why did you tell him?” he asked.
“I was afraid. When he used his sword on me, I thought he’d kill me, so I told him I left a message for someone. He wanted to know who and kept cutting me until I told him. Then he got really angry. He called me a cheating whore and said he’d watch me bleed to death and . . . and . . .” She sagged abruptly and Tora laid her down on the mat, so recently cleaned by the old woman and now covered with gore beyond repair. Little Flower had many cuts, all of them bleeding, but two or three looked ugly. He snatched her thin undergown from the pile of clothing and, tearing it, pressed the fabric to the worst wounds, wondering what to do next. He could hardly call for help with Wada lying there unconscious.
He was still crouching over the unconscious Little Flower, both hands pressing fabric to her wounds, when he heard steps outside. Heavy male boots, and at least three pairs.
He twisted around just in time to see Wada on all fours crawling toward his sword. Then the broken door flew back and the brawny figures of Wada’s constables appeared on the threshold, Sergeant Ikugoro in the lead and evidently bent on delivering Tora’s message.
It was an awkward moment, and Tora had no time to consider his strategy.
He abandoned Little Flower and plunged for Wada, putting his foot so hard on Wada’s outstretched hand that he could hear a bone snap. Wada screamed. Tora turned his head toward Ikugoro and said, “Good work, Sergeant. Just in time to help me tie up the prisoner.”
