by I. J. Parker
Tora took the other man’s hand and placed it on his lower ribcage on the left side. The man felt around, and Tora snarled, “Watch it.”
“Pah. It’s nothing,” said the other. “You’re a crybaby.”
Someone laughed. Since the praying man had not stopped his recital, Tora guessed it had been the weeper. Very funny! He took a few unsteady steps. The motion of the ship was no help.
“Here, wait.” Shigeno grabbed his arm. “I’m going to tie my sash around you. That should help keep the rib in place.” He wound it around a few times, then pulled it so tight that Tora gasped. “Hold still,” Shigeno said and tied a knot. “There!”
It did help. Tora still could not bend very well, but he could move both arms without undue pain and even turn at the waist. “Thanks,” he said. Then he called out to the other two shadows,” Hey, you two. Do you know anything about sailing a ship like this?”
The praying man said, “We both do. We’re sailors.”
“Let’s untie them, Shigeno. They can help.”
“You must be mad. I told you, there are at least twenty men up there. Besides, the ship’s too big for two sailors to handle.”
“What’s your solution? A moment ago you planned to let them toss you overboard.”
The praying man said, “Hey, stop arguing and untie us.”
The other sailor wailed softly, “They’ll kill us.”
Tora snapped, “Maybe, but I don’t think many come back from the mines. If you get away, you can head for the hills and start a new life elsewhere.”
There were no more arguments. Tora and Shigeno untied the convicts and searched for something that could be used for weapons. Even though Tora’s eyes had adjusted, it was still very dark. Unidentifiable mounds of things were piled in far corners. They felt around among pieces of rough cloth to mend sails, rope of varying thickness, and pieces of lumber too long and heavy to be useful.
A rough ladder led up to the hatch above. Now and then, Tora could hear footsteps up there.
Shigeno hissed, “Sssh! I think they’re coming for us. Hurry!”
One of the convicts gasped, but both came to help. They found an iron spike, a broken oar, and a couple of short spars. Shigeno pulled out a grappling hook with a length of broken rope attached, and Tora took the oar, breaking off the paddle end. The rest would make a cudgel or short fighting staff.
Up above, they heard voices near the hatch. Shigeno said softly, “I’ll go halfway up the ladder, grab the first of the bastards, and pass him on to you. You’d best kill him quick and follow. Stand ready!”
It was mad. Tora was conscious of being in poor shape even as he gripped the shaft of the oar. When those above realized their prisoners were free, they would simply slam the hatch cover down again until they reached port and could deal with them.
Shigeno climbed up to the hatch, and Tora took position just below him. The other two sailors waited at the foot of the ladder.
Then the latch cover lifted.
24
REGRETS
Saburo arrived in Akitada’s office out of breath, dusty, bruised, and speechless. Mori and his scribes stared as Saburo gasped and gestured with a filthy bundle of clothes.
Akitada half rose. “What happened?”
Saburo approached and dropped the bundle on Akitada’s desk, where it landed with a thud, unrolled, and spilled the boots.
Akitada recognized Tora’s clothes. He felt himself grow cold.
With another gasp, Saburo said, “They got him. He may be dead. They got Tora, sir.” He sat down abruptly on the floor.
Akitada briefly fingered Tora’s robe, sash, and pants, then studied each boot. “Explain!”
Saburo told of taking Maeda and his men to the abandoned well and how they found that the mysterious bundle discarded the night before contained Tora’s clothes. “We went immediately to arrest Hiroshi. He’s the son of the doll maker who hanged himself.”
“I know who he is. Go on.”
“Well, Hiroshi’s gone.”
Akitada glowered. “Gone where?”
“Sorry, sir. I’m upset. His wife said she didn’t know. Maeda sent his people out to look for him. I came back here as fast as I could.”
Akitada sat staring at him and stroking his chin. Things had progressed from bad to worse. From the tiger’s den, they had now reached the dragon’s lair. Tora was in trouble—he did not want to think of him as dead—and needed help, but what could he do that Maeda’s constables could not do better? This Hiroshi must be found and questioned as soon as possible. Maeda himself had given the man a warning by setting out very publicly for the abandoned well. “Maeda and his men bungled,” he muttered.
Sadamu said, “He couldn’t have known what we’d find. I didn’t know.”
“This was the same place where they found the woman’s body a few days ago?”
“Yes, sir. Strange, that.”
“Not strange. It looks like Hiroshi dumped her body there and when he needed to get rid of the bundle of clothes, he went there again.”
“That was pretty stupid. He must have known the police found the dead woman.”
“Yes. Hmm.” Akitada thought, staring up at the ceiling and noting absent-mindedly the number of cobwebs above his head. “He may not have killed her but heard about the well and decided it was a good place to hide Tora’s clothes. He probably thought the police wouldn’t go back there again.”
“Maybe.” Saburo looked doubtful. “I think Maeda plans to arrest Hiroshi for the murder.”
Akitada stood. “None of this is getting us any closer to Tora. You and I are going to Hakata to look for ourselves.”
Saburo blinked. “On horses?”
Akitada ignored the question. He turned to Mori and the slack-jawed scribes. “Mori, send for the sergeant of the provincial guard. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve changed out of these clothes. Come, Saburo. I have more questions.”
In his private quarters, Akitada flung back the lid of his clothes trunk and brought out a set of comfortable trousers, his hunting coat, and his boots. As he took off his working attire, he glanced at the dirt-covered, miserable-looking Saburo. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot about your problem with horses. It can’t be helped. You’d better change into something more military.”
“If you insist.” Saburo frowned as he watched his master put on half armor under his hunting coat, and then sit down to put on his boots.
“I have a good mind to have Feng arrested,” Akitada muttered, then went to get his sword from its display stand.
“What for?” asked Saburo.
“I don’t know, but it’s clear the meeting between his employee and Hiroshi has something to do with Tora’s abduction.”
Saburo nodded. “Yes, I told Maeda. He’ll talk to the clerk.”
Akitada buckled on his sword and took in Saburo’s glum expression. “Come, Saburo! With your background as a spy, you can’t possibly be this averse to fighting.”
“I can use a sword, but not well. I clearly cannot ride a horse, to judge by my recent experiences. I don’t shoot arrows. Most of my assignments have involved a stealthier form of warfare.”
Akitada grimaced. “Exactly what I disliked most about your background.”
Saburo nodded. “I’ll do as you say. The gods know, I’d do more than that to get Tora back.” He turned to leave.
Akitada called after him, “When you’re ready, meet me outside in the courtyard. I’ll try to find a calm horse for you.”
It should have amused Akitada, but fear for Tora sickened him every time he remembered that a day and two nights had passed since he had sent Tora after the watcher. Unless they—whoever they were—wanted information, they had killed him already. And if they wanted information, he would wish he were dead.
The worst part of this was that he still had no grasp of the plot that had made the last governor disappear and caused the murder by poison of the beautiful woman Tachibana had loved.
As h
e walked back to the tribunal office, he pondered the situation.
If Feng was behind Tora’s disappearance, what had he hoped to achieve?
If he had interpreted the meeting between Feng and his men correctly, then Feng had paid Hiroshi. For what? Surely not just to get rid of his clothes. But someone had set the man to watch them, and Tora had followed this man. Where had the watcher taken him? What had Tora discovered that had made him a threat?
And again he cringed at the knowledge that he had sent Tora into danger.
He had sent him into the unknown unarmed. Akitada touched the sword at his side and winced. He had remembered the threat they faced too late to protect Tora.
In the tribunal office, the sergeant of the tribunal guard awaited him. He blinked when he saw Akitada with sword and half armor and saluted stiffly.
Akitada wished he remembered the man’s name. Another oversight. He said, “Thank you for coming so promptly, Sergeant. It seems Lieutenant Sashima has been attacked in the city. He didn’t return from an assignment. You will gather as many of your men as can be spared from watching the tribunal and assist Lieutenant Maeda’s constables in searching Hakata. We are leaving for police headquarters as soon as your men are mounted.”
The sergeant saluted again. “Does your Excellency expect an attack on the tribunal?”
Good question. Anything at all might happen in this cursed place. “No, Sergeant, but a few men should remain. And please find a docile mount for the betto.”
Another snappy salute, and the sergeant was gone.
Akitada turned to Mori who stood beside his desk, looking frightened. “I rely on you to see to things while I’m gone, Mori. Saburo is coming with me.” He went to his desk and put away the documents he had been working on. After giving Mori instructions for the day’s work, he took a look around, and then walked out into the forecourt of the tribunal.
The mounted guard was assembled, some fifteen armed men. Saburo, wearing half armor and a sword, waited beside a horse, clearly postponing the inevitable until the last moment. Akitada nodded to the sergeant, swung himself into the saddle, watched Saburo climb up, and they set off.
Their arrival in Hakata sent the people in the streets running. Akitada wondered what they were thinking. That it was war? Perhaps it was. His fear for Tora had given him a furious anger at the people in this godforsaken place, at the grand officials who had seen fit to send him here, at the assistant governor general in Dazaifu for leaving him without support, at the late Governor Tachibana for having allowed the criminal behavior which had led to this.
At police headquarters, the constables on duty poured out of the building to stare. Akitada stayed on his horse. “Where’s your chief?” he bellowed.
“At the harbor.”
Akitada turned his horse and, followed by Saburo and the soldiers, he galloped to Hakata harbor where his arrival stirred up more consternation. Lieutenant Maeda came running from the harbor office.
Akitada dismounted. “Well? Anything?” he demanded grimly.
“Not much, your Excellency.” Maeda, looking strained, stared at the mounted soldiers and Akitada’s armor. “My men are combing the wine shops and gambling dives asking for information. Most of the reports are unreliable, but a couple of people think they saw Tora following a man with a red rag around his head. The man seemed to be heading for the Chinese settlement. That was on the evening before last. I had a talk with Feng’s clerk. He says he paid Hiroshi for a delivery of goods.”
Whatever that meant.
Too much time had passed. And already the clouds were streaked with crimson in the west as if they were about to rain blood across the earth. Akitada bit his lip. “It makes sense,” he said. “Let’s go to the Chinese settlement. I brought the soldiers to help.”
Maeda called for a horse and gathered his men. They set out for the Chinese settlement as if they intended to conquer a foreign country.
And perhaps they were.
As soon as they passed through the gates into the Chinese quarter, people started scattering. Mothers dragged their children behind them; a toddler stumbled and fell in the path of the horses; his mother threw herself over him; screams from women and children brought men running. Some shook their fists at them; others herded people inside and slammed doors.
Akitada shouted to Maeda to stop. He did not want this. What gave him the right to make war on women and children because Tora had disappeared? He said as much to Maeda and the sergeant of the tribunal guard.
“Nobody got hurt.” Maeda said. “I doubt these people had anything to do with Tora’s abduction, but they have eyes to see. I think it best to go from house to house and store to store in the business district. Someone may have some information.”
“Very well. Tell your men to be polite.” It would take time. A lot of time. Akitada needed to be doing something as his fear ate away at him. It might already be too late.
Maeda gave his orders and the constables dispersed. He and Akitada dismounted to await results.
“Any news about Fragrant Orchid?” Akitada asked to distract himself.
“Nothing beyond the fact that the governor was apparently very much enamored with her. He seems to have been an almost daily visitor in the months before his departure.”
“How did she take his leaving?”
Maeda gave a snort. “She received a generous present, I think. The maid said her mistress looked quite pleased and spent lavishly on new clothes.”
“I see.” It was common enough to pay off one’s mistress. Given the luxurious lifestyle enjoyed by the courtesan, he assumed Tachibana had been especially generous. He suddenly remembered the letter she had left. It suggested a passion which was strangely at odds with her behavior. There had been something about its wording. He bit his lip. Tora’s fate had driven the matter completely from his mind. “What about the other murdered woman? Is it possible that Tora’s interest in the case caused someone to attack him?”
Maeda frowned. “Well, we found Tora’s clothes where Yoko’s body was for a week or more, and since it was Hiroshi who put them there, it seems reasonable that Hiroshi also put Yoko there. He is wanted for her murder. And yes, if Tora discovered something that proved Hiroshi killed her, he would be likely to try to get rid of him.”
More than likely. And Hiroshi would not leave Tora alive. Akitada turned away with a shudder.
Maeda said, “You mustn’t think the worst, sir. We didn’t find Tora’s body, just his clothes. It proves he wasn’t killed, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” Akitada said, “but we cannot be certain.” He clenched his hands.
“Hiroshi is a small-time crook. I doubt he could outwit Tora.”
Akitada did not answer. It was easy to make a mistake, he knew. And sometimes a small thing might be the last mistake a man made.
The constables were returning one by one. No one had seen Tora or the man he had followed. Akitada looked around at the people who were slowly emerging from their hiding places again. They all looked either hostile or frightened. He sighed.
“What are your orders, Excellency?” asked Maeda.
“Keep asking questions, but not here. I doubt anyone here will give any help to the authorities. You must find Hiroshi. I’ll leave you my soldiers. Make use of them. As soon as you have any information, let me know. I’ll be staying at your headquarters for the time being.”
25
KILL OR BE KILLED
The light from the open hatch was blinding, but Shigeno tossed his grappling hook and jerked the rope hard. There was a cry; then a man fell past Tora, nearly knocking him off the ladder. Down below, his scream turned into a sickening gurgle.
No time to look or wonder. Shigeno was already through the open hatch. Shouts and screams greeted him. Tora scrambled up and out, cudgel in hand, squinting into the light.
He had a vague impression of running people and of the gray sea and the large white sails above them. Shigeno was swinging his grappling hook by its
short rope. Tora got a quick look at his powerful physique and his long hair and full beard, then he saw the guards in their half armor drawing their swords.
An uneven battle at best.
Beyond the figure of Shigeno wading into a hopeless confrontation, sailors were running everywhere in the gray daylight and the spray of seawater.
The two convicts came up beside Tora, one tall and thin, the other short. He doubted he’d done anyone a favor by encouraging them to fight their way to freedom, for here came men with knives and swords.
A sailor with a long, curved knife was in front. He attacked with a shout. Tora raised his oar handle to parry the knife, but the pain in his side shot through him like a flame. He saw the sailor through a haze of agony and desperation, knowing that, in a moment, he would be dead. He would be killed, and so would the others. Already he could feel the blade slicing into his body, but he could do nothing about it.
Then an object flew past him and struck the sailor, who went down on one knee. Tora finally moved, swinging his stick as hard as he could at the other man’s head. Even with the noise of sails, sea, and fighting, he heard the crack of the impact and saw the man fall over, blood gushing from his nose.
Another sailor rushed him from the side. Tora jumped away and swung hard at an extended arm. He saw a knife flying through the air and over the rail into the sea beyond. The man screamed, fell to his knees, cradling his hand against his chest, and Tora kicked him hard in the face. A shadow darted past and swung an iron spike. The sailor collapsed.
But already there were more attackers. A sailor went for one of the convicts, and a guard charged Tora.
Tora side-stepped the sword, and parried. The guard was not a very good swordsman, but a man with a sword had little trouble killing another man who only brandished a broken oar.
They danced around each other. Tora slipped on the wet deck and went down just as the other man swung at his neck. Dropping his oar handle, Tora grabbed the man’s leg and jerked it out from under him. The sword flew from his hand, slid away, and fell down the hatch opening. The guard kicked with both legs and scored a glancing blow to Tora’s chin, but Tora had found his oar and came to his knees, swinging it at the man’s face. The guard fell; blood poured from his nose and mouth, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Getting to his feet, Tora looked around desperately. There must be a way to stop this, to convince these men of who he was.
