The Convict's Sword (20 page)

“How are you, Brother?” Tora greeted him. “One of the bean paste dumplings, please. No, make that two, and wrap up the second. My master’s little son is fond of them.” Genba was too, but Genba was getting fat, and besides Tora was low on funds at the moment.

The vendor exchanged the dumplings for some coppers, and watched Tora take a big bite out of his while tucking Yori’s into his sleeve. “You hear about Tomoe?” he asked.

Tora wiped rice flour from his mustache and nodded. “I’m the one that found her.”

The vendor’s eyes grew large. “You don’t say? Was it as bad as they say? Blood everywhere? Like some wild animal got her?”

“It was an animal all right,” said Tora, looking at his half-eaten dumpling and then tossing it toward a sleeping dog. He had lost his appetite. “But a human animal.”

“Here,” said the vendor, “what was wrong with that dumpling?”

The dog, startled awake into a growl, devoured the unexpected gift and licked his chops. “Nothing,” muttered Tora. “You shouldn’t have reminded me.”

“Oh. Well, watch it. If people see you tossing my dumplings to the dogs, it’ll hurt my business.”

“Sorry. You happen to have any idea who killed her?

The vendor chewed his lip. “We’ve been talking, some of us in the market. Seemed weird. She had nothing. Was she raped?”

“They don’t know for sure.” The question reminded Tora that he should have asked Ihara for the coroner’s report. The bastard probably wouldn’t have given it to him, but he should have tried. Then he had the uneasy thought that the report might have been among the papers he had returned without reading. He sighed. Maybe he had better sit in on Yori’s lessons.

The dumpling man said, “If she wasn’t raped, your guess is as good as mine. People here liked her. She worked hard and we all felt sorry for her.”

“Somebody didn’t. How long had she been working here?”

“About three years. She just stopped in the middle of the market and started singing. The guards fined her for working without a proper permit. After that she paid. Didn’t do much business at first. People paid no attention. Then the soothsayer gave up his place on the tower platform to her, and she started drawing a nice crowd.”

So the soothsayer had merely taken back his old place after Tomoe’s death. Tora turned to look at him and asked, “Did she have any special friends? The soothsayer, maybe?”

He got no answer. Three youngsters had come up, and the vendor was busy selling them dumplings. When he was done, he said, “I wouldn’t know about her friends. She kept to herself. I’ve got to move on or the guards will fine me.”

The
mochi
man only had a permit for walking about with his goods. Stationary vendors paid more and did not like competition next to their spaces or stands. Tora strolled back to the tower and stopped at the line of customers in front of the amulet seller. “What’s the big attraction?” he asked a woman, while giving the pretty girl in front of her a wink and a smile.

The girl giggled, but the woman said fervently, “His amulets are direct from Ise Shrine. The God has blessed them. It’s a lot of money”—she opened her hand, and Tora saw that it contained about twenty coppers—“but I’m scared. My little boy—better he should live than eat
mochi,
right?”

Seeing her poor clothes and her work-worn face, Tora asked, “Is he sick?”

“Not yet. Amida be blessed! But the sickness is everywhere. Only last week the neighbors’ baby died. Covered with hundreds of boils she was! Terrible!”

Tora began to grasp the run on amulets. A smallpox panic seemed to have started, and people were buying the small wooden tablets to protect themselves against that terrible plague. Tomoe had been pockmarked and blinded by smallpox. Once, no doubt, she had been just as pretty and lively as the giggling girl in the queue.

Tora turned away—he did not have enough money for an amulet in any case. Every time he thought of Tomoe, something twisted in his belly. His master had asked him if he had loved her, and he had said “no.” But love is not such a simple thing to explain. With Tomoe it had not been lust. He had not wanted to lie with her—even the thought made him uncomfortable. But he had wanted to hold her close, to protect her. Many times. And he mourned her death and convinced himself that the pain he felt for having failed her might ease when he found her killer.

He glanced up at the tower platform where the soothsayer sat importantly before a red silk cloth on which he cast people’s fortunes. Tora wanted to know why he had given up his spot to Tomoe.

He got in line behind a fat merchant and sat on the steps while the fat man whispered his questions and the soothsayer rustled his yarrow stalks and clinked coins. Bits of their exchange drifted back to Tora: “That’s a ‘yes’ on the travel, but the direction is not auspicious . . .”

“Ssh! Not so loud.” Whisper, whisper. “Profit?” Whisper. More rustlings and stirrings.

“Ah! Yes, a prosperous undertaking if you . . .”

Down at the bottom of the steps, the beggar had hold of a woman’s skirts. She hit him with her full basket, and he let go, shouting an obscenity after her.

The fat merchant pulled out a string of coppers and paid the soothsayer, leaving with a happy smile. Sometimes Tora wondered if soothsayers passed along only good news in hopes of a generous tip and return visits. But he believed in dreams and omens himself and thought that at least some of the diviners spoke truth. So he bowed politely to the long-faced man with his stiff black hat and the colorful shawl about his shoulders before squatting down.

The diviner looked at him carefully with rather sad eyes. “Ten coppers if by coins,” he said. “Twenty if by stalks.”

“By coins,” said Tora quickly, fingering the sad remnants of the money in his sash.

“I remember you,” said the soothsayer. “You knew Tomoe.”

Tora nodded. “I don’t suppose you could find her killer with your divining, could you?”

“My method can only give a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ You have to have the name of a person.”

Tora sighed. “I haven’t got one. Besides, it wouldn’t be good evidence in front of a judge anyway.”

The long-faced man raised his brows. “Oh, I don’t know. There was a murder case where they found a man guilty on the say-so of a medium. He confessed when she pointed the finger at him. Fate never lies.”

“I heard you gave this spot to Tomoe when she first started her business three years ago.”

The soothsayer nodded, still studying Tora’s face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Your face is interesting. That forehead and chin! Hmm. And the way your ears are placed. Yes. You will have a fine future.”

Tora was pleased. “You read faces, too? I thought soothsayers only used the stalks and coins.”

The soothsayer smiled. “I’m of Korean descent and my father passed some of the old skills on to me. There is not much call for it, because few people have fortunate faces. Especially lately. Yours is the first in a long time. Most faces are ordinary, and this year too many have death written on them. I warn them, and they go to buy an amulet.” The soothsayer sighed. “As if it mattered.”

Tora was puzzled by this, but decided to stick to his purpose. “About Tomoe. Why did you give her your place?”

“She bought it. Paid me handsomely for it.”

“Did you ask her where she got the money?”

“I didn’t have to. She told me she sold her mirror, since she wouldn’t need it any more. A great pity.” He shook his head. “She was a beauty.”

Tora stared at him. “A beauty?”

“Oh, yes. The bones of the face don’t change even when disease destroys the skin. I see beyond the outer shell. She was both beautiful and good. But I could tell that she was marked by death all the same.”

“You saw that?”

“Oh, yes. About a week ago. I told her to go away, far away. She believed me, but she said she needed two more pieces of silver before the end of summer.”

“What for?”

“She didn’t say.”

Tora pondered this while the diviner rearranged his divining stalks and the three copper coins. There were two people waiting. He must hurry. “Sorry to take up your time. Just one more question. Tomoe was afraid of somebody. Do you happen to know what that was all about?”

“No. She never mentioned it.” The soothsayer looked sharply at Tora, then added, “You knew her better than I. Many bad people come to this market. One kept watching her, a tall man. He looked dangerous, like a soldier, or maybe a highway man. He had a very bad face. I don’t think she knew.”

Tora fished ten coppers out of his sash. “Well, thanks anyway.” He made a move to get up.

“What about your fortune?”

“I really came about Tomoe. Besides, you already told me about my face.”

“No. You shall have your fortune. A friend of Tomoe’s is a friend of mine. Poor people must help each other. What is your question?”

“Well then, will I find Tomoe’s killer?”

The soothsayer picked up the three copper coins and showed them to Tora. “See, they have characters on one side only. If I toss them, like this, some fall face up, some face down. Face up means it’s
yin
or even, with a value of two. Face down is
yang,
or odd, with a value of three. Added up, the first throw gives us a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. If the total adds up even, it’s a ‘yes,’ if odd, a ‘no.’ ”

Tora stared at the coins. “That’s a ‘yes,’ isn’t it?”

The soothsayer nodded and smiled.

“Good!” Tora was immensely pleased. His master had never trusted the predictions of diviners and soothsayers. It was always right to do what was needful when it was needful, he used to say, whenever someone urged postponement because the time was inauspicious or the direction of a journey was forbidden. Now Tora would not only prove him wrong, but solve a murder without his master’s help.

The soothsayer said, “I think you may have unexpected troubles on the way. You must be careful.”

Tora grinned. “Don’t worry. Nothing can happen to me. You told me I have a great future.”

The soothsayer did not return his smile. “Let’s consult the gods.” He took up his bundles of yarrow stalks, separating them and placing them in strange combinations between his fingers, then laying them down and starting the process again. Tora ventured to clear his throat.

“Don’t interrupt!” growled the soothsayer.

Tora sat, wondering what was happening and wishing he could leave.

After a long time, the soothsayer sighed and gathered up his stalks. For a long while he sat looking at Tora without speaking. Then he said, “It is good and not good. You will succeed, but terrible things will come to pass.”

“What things?”

“There will be great grief. More I cannot say.” He sighed deeply. “These are evil days for many.” He scooped up Tora’s coppers and bowed. “Be safe, Tomoe’s friend.”

CHAPTER TEN

THE HIDDEN GARDEN

 

 

 

When Akitada arrived at the ministry with the notes for his memorial to the emperor, he found the number of petitioners grown so large that they were sitting two deep along the walls of the reception hall. He stopped in dismay. It was impossible to deal with all of their petitions today unless he was given an additional staff of ten clerks. Besides, there was the draft of his memorial to the emperor. He wanted to polish and dispatch it this very day. As he stood there, considering these things, he saw that they looked even more disappointed than he felt. He wondered if he was properly dressed and checked to see if his hat was askew. He was wearing his comfortable everyday robe again. But still they whispered and looked troubled. Ah. It must be his black eye. Relieved, he smiled and said, “I’m glad to see you. Please, do not let my black eye worry you. I assure you I can read and write well enough. But there are too many of you to . . .”

To his surprise, one after the other of them rose, bowed, and left until there was only a handful still waiting. He shook his head and went into his office. Nakatoshi followed and closed the door.

“Why did they leave so quickly?” Akitada asked him.

“I’m not sure, sir.” Nakatoshi was also looking at Akitada’s eye. “Perhaps they left because you said there were too many.”

Akitada snorted. “If so, they are the most humble and polite group of litigants I have ever seen. Do I look particularly frightening?”

Nakatoshi flushed. “Not to me, sir.”

Akitada laughed. “The eye looks worse than it feels. Let’s get to work.” He glanced at the draft of his memorial and the stack of new paperwork beside it, rubbed his hands, and sat down behind his desk.

Soga’s desk. With his hand already extended toward the top document on the pile of ministry business, he looked up. “Any news from the minister?”

“No, sir.”

“I don’t recall signing the daily report Sakae was to prepare. What happened to that?”