I. Parker - Death of a Doll Maker

In the corner, the Chinese suddenly burst into laughter again. Still grinning, they got up, tossed some coins to the waiter, and walked out.

Saburo would have followed in any case, but there was something troubling about their sudden departure after the two children. He paid a few coppers for his wine and went out into the street.

It was still busy, with lanterns bobbing in the slight breeze from the water and men searching for wine, women, or games. At the end of the street, three of the thugs headed toward the dense warren of streets beyond the wine shops and brothels. They were walking fast. Two of them had disappeared. So had the children. The three abruptly turned a corner.

Saburo sped up to the corner and saw a dark tunnel between the walls of two-story houses. The alley was so narrow not even the fitful moonlight penetrated. There was no sign of the Chinese, but he heard a sudden laugh up ahead, and then a shout. Then sounds of running footsteps receded.

Saburo wished he had dressed for spying. Not only were those clothes black and made for climbing and scaling roofs, but they had a series of clever pockets holding assorted weapons of his former trade. He bent to touch the thin blade he carried in his right boot and plunged into the darkness.

When his eyes adjusted, he knew he was in a poor quarter of tenements for sailors and porters. He quickly became disoriented by the way the alley turned this way and that. Dead ends and switchbacks filled with heaps of refuse or discarded building materials slowed him down. Finally he stopped and listened.

In the distance, he heard laughter again, and a moment later the thin high cry of a woman or child. He ran in that direction, stumbled over something and fell, picked himself up, and came to another dead end.

As he turned back, he saw a faint seam of light on the wall of a building. It marked a door in the back wall of this tenement. He pounded on it. When nothing happened, he kicked and the door flew open. He burst into a small room where a man and two women sat at their meal, their eyes wide with shock and fear at his intrusion.

“Quick,” he gasped. “Some men are attacking two children. Where’s the next street?”

Open-mouthed, they pointed to another door. Saburo pushed back the bar, opened it, and stood in a narrow street. At its end, moonlight fell on some struggling figures. He heard another shrill cry, pulled the knife from his boot, and rushed toward them.

“Halt!” he shouted. “In the name of the governor!” He added a loud whistle for good measure. “Constables! Over here!”

They fell for it. In a moment, all five men had melted into the shadows, leaving behind the slight figures of the two children and their broken bird cages.

The girl was sobbing as she got up and pulled her skirt down. The boy lay unmoving in the street.

Saburo guessed what the animals had been after and was sickened by it. He slowed down, put his knife away, and asked the girl, “Did they hurt you?”

She shrank away from him.

He bent over the boy and found he was alive and breathing, though unconscious. “Don’t be afraid,” he told the girl, straightening up. “I work for the governor as a sort of constable. I noticed those bullies following you and thought I’d keep an eye on them. Being a stranger in this town, I got lost. I hope I wasn’t too late?”

It was a stupid question. The girl was too young to understand. She ignored him and knelt down beside the boy to take him in her arms.

Saburo said. “He’s alive,” to reassure her, hoping the child was not seriously hurt. He had a bloody nose and would probably have a black eye. He bent and felt the back of the boy’s head. It seemed undamaged. As if to prove it, the boy opened his eyes.

“Oh, Kichiro,” the girl cried, “are you hurt?”

He blinked at her and then stared at Saburo. Freeing himself from her arms, he cried, “Don’t you touch my sister. I’ll kill you,” and lashed out weakly at Saburo with a balled fist.

“Don’t,” she cried, catching the flailing hand in hers. “He came to help us.”

The boy closed his eyes and fell back.

Saburo stood and looked around. He did not like this place. Neither did he trust the hoodlums not to come back to take out their frustration and anger on them.

“Where do you children live?” he asked. “I’ll take you home.”

She gestured vaguely down the street. “We’ll be all right,” she said. “It’s not far.”

“Your brother cannot walk,” Saburo pointed out and scooped him up. The child was not exactly light, and he hoped she had spoken the truth about the distance.

“Thank you,” she murmured and went to gather the cages. One was broken and empty. In the other, the bird lay dead. She gave a small moan, removed the limp body and laid it gently in a patch of grass. Carrying both cages, she started off down the street.

Saburo walked behind, the boy occasionally stirring and muttering in his arms. They took a confusing number of streets and alleys to end up in a shrine garden.

The girl passed through this to the back where a ruined building loomed over the trees below. Here, an assortment of bird cages, much like the ones she carried, hung from tree limbs or were stacked against the wall of the abandoned building. There were birds in the hanging cages. Some chirped sleepily.

Saburo stopped and listened carefully. He was still afraid they might have been followed, but all remained still.

The girl walked around the corner of the building to where an open doorway gaped. Entering, she told Saburo, “Wait here, please. There are some boards missing on the stairs. I’ll bring a light.”

Saburo stood, his arms aching a little, and looked about. It was very dark, but he could see the rickety staircase rising precariously into the darkness above. Below, the blackness was broken here and there by what must be open windows or holes in the roof.

A shimmer of light appeared above, and the girl came down. She carried an oil lamp. Saburo started up the stairs, watching out for missing and broken steps, worrying over whether the stairs would support their weight.

Upstairs, grass mats had been hung from rafters and across windows to make a small space in an empty, open area reminding him of a warehouse. The floor was scrupulously swept. An old trunk, a small bamboo rack with a few chipped dishes, a small pile of bedding, and a bird cage with a bird made up the furnishings.

The bird, a pale green color, woke and sang.

The girl went to spread out some bedding, and Saburo laid the boy down. His eyes were wide open.

“How are you, Kichiro?” Saburo asked.

“My eye hurts. And my head.” He looked for the girl. “Naoko?” He sounded frightened.

She said, “This man’s a friend who helped us. Thank him!”

Saburo smiled. “No need.” He looked around. “How do you manage? Where is your family?”

She looked away. “Our parents are dead. There’s no one. I’m called Naoko. Kichiro is my brother. He catches song birds. Bush warblers and white eyes and cuckoos. I make cages for them, and we sell them in the market and on the streets.”

“My name is Saburo. As I told you, I work for the new governor and am a stranger here. Those men you tangled with are bad. You shouldn’t be walking around at night. And you should really not be going into wine shops.”

She nodded calmly. “I know. We needed money, so we decided to give it a try. Sometimes the sailors like a bird to take on their ship with them.”

With a sigh, Saburo dug into his sash and extracted a string of coppers. Counting out half of them, he placed them on the trunk. “I think your brother will be all right in the morning. This is for food. I’ll be back when I can, but you must be more careful.”