I. Parker - Island of Exiles

But he was still very weak and the rocks in the basket were abysmally heavy. The rag-wrapped rope, which passed in front of his neck and over his shoulders, cut into his flesh, and he had to walk bent forward to balance the load. This, added to the steep climb back out, strained his weakened muscles to the utmost. The first trip was not too bad, because he was desperate to get back to the surface, but on the second one he fell. To his surprise, the man in front of him turned back to help him up, telling him brusquely to grab hold of his basket. In this manner, the other man half dragged him up the rest of the way into the daylight.

When Akitada had unloaded and looked to see who his benefactor was, he was startled to recognize him. The man’s name escaped him for the moment, but he knew he was one of the prisoners from the stockade in Mano, the silent man with the scarred back. Their eyes met, and Akitada thanked him. The other man shook his head with a warning glance at the guards and started back into the tunnel. Akitada followed him.

He would not have lasted the first day if the man with the scarred back had not pulled him up on every trip to the surface.

Even so, Akitada sank to the ground after his last trip. He was too exhausted to notice that the sun had set and it was dusk. His companion pulled him up, saying gruffly, “Come on. It’s over.

Time to rest.”

Akitada nodded and staggered to his feet, heading toward the trees where he had spent the past nights. But the guard gave him a push and pointed his whip after the others who went back into the mine. So he was to spend even his nights underground again. Akitada almost wept.

They gathered in the larger cave by the light of a single smoking oil lamp. The prisoners sat and lay wherever there was room. Akitada found a place beside his benefactor. Someone passed food and water around. He drank thirstily, but his stomach rebelled at the sight and smell of food.

“Better eat,” said the man with the scarred back.

Akitada shook his head. Then he said, “Haseo. Your name is Haseo, isn’t it?”

The other man nodded.

“I’m sorry you ended up here.”

Haseo lowered his bowl and looked at him. “So did you.

Almost didn’t recognize you.”

“My own fault. I was careless.”

An understatement. He had made many careless errors, had thrown caution to the wind, had followed every whim, thought-less and mindless of obligations and prudence. His punishment was terrible, but he had brought it upon himself.

The other man gave a barking laugh. “I suppose that’s true of all of us.”

Akitada looked at the others, so intent on their food that few of them talked. They were here because they had been careless of the law, of the rights of their fellow men, and of their loved ones. He had not broken any laws, but he, too, had failed. He thought of Tamako. She would never know that he had betrayed his promises to her with Masako, but he knew and was being punished for it. If his mind had not been preoccupied with his affair, he would surely not have made the foolish mistakes that led to his capture. He had known that Genzo was treacherous, yet he had left his precious identity papers and orders unattended for hours, no, days, all the while congratulating himself for having so cleverly eavesdropped on the conspirators.

“What’s funny?” asked Haseo.

Akitada started. He must have been smiling-bitterly-at his own foolishness. “I was thinking of my carelessness,” he said.

Most of the prisoners were already settling down to sleep, and the single guard was arranging himself across the tunnel that led to the outside in case anyone attempted to run away during the night. Then he blew out the oil lamp and plunged them all into utter darkness.

Akitada tensed against the terror. His fingers closed convulsively around sharp bits of gravel. Any moment, he knew, he must scream or suffocate. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Sleep,” Haseo whispered.

Akitada took a long, shuddering breath. “Is there any chance of getting out of here?” he whispered back.

Haseo sighed. “Whereto?”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to get out of this mine.”

“They’ll catch you fast enough and you’ll be ten times worse off then,” Haseo hissed.

Akitada thought of the man’s horribly scarred back. “It’s a chance I’ll take. There’s nothing here but certain death.” Haseo said nothing for a long time. Then he muttered, “Go to sleep. You’ll need your strength tomorrow. I can’t drag you behind forever.” He turned his back to Akitada and lay down.

Akitada sighed and closed his eyes.

The next morning began badly, because Akitada’s body, unused to the previous day’s labors, rebelled against movement of any sort. He had to grit his teeth to get up and make his way to the outside. He was determined not to be a burden to Haseo again.

But every step eased the stiffness, and for the first time he felt ravenously hungry. They ate with the others at the mouth of the mine. Akitada looked his fill at the blue sky and the tips of trees gilded by the rising sun, listened to the sound of birds and of water running down the sluice, and drew in the clean sharp scent of the forest.

The goblin brought his food, staring at him intently. He nodded his thanks and smiled. To his surprise, her fierce color-ing deepened to a more fiery red and she scurried away with a giggle. He was too hungry to wonder at her behavior, especially when he saw that his portion was unusually large and contained several generous chunks of fish.

Work was no easier this day, especially since he took care not to burden Haseo again, but he managed to get through it, and that night he decided to ask Haseo more questions.

“Have you been here long?” he began as they settled down to their evening meal.

“Came right after we met.”

It struck Akitada that Haseo, though still taciturn, spoke rather well for a common criminal. “What sort of life did you lead before they sentenced you?”

The bearded face contorted suddenly. “Amida, how can you ask a man that? How about you? Did you leave a wife and children to starve? This”-he waved a hand around to encompass mine, prisoners, sleepy guard, and empty food bowls-“is hell, but it’s nothing compared to the fear for those you leave behind.

They took my land and drove my family into the streets.”

“I am sorry for you and for them.” Akitada felt vaguely guilty. He was an official himself, and had on occasion pronounced sentences like Haseo’s. His crime must have been very serious to warrant not only exile at hard labor, but confiscation of his property. To judge by the man’s speech he was no commoner, and the confiscation of his land implied that he belonged to the gentry. Hoping not to offend again, he probed cautiously, “Sometimes a man’s allegiances may be held against him.”

“Sometimes a man’s greed may cause him to take another man’s property.” Haseo gave a bitter laugh. “If I had known what I know now, I would have left my land with my family before it came to this.”

“What happened?”

Haseo snorted. “You wouldn’t believe it. Forget it.” Akitada whispered urgently, “Don’t you want to escape?” Haseo merely looked at him.

Akitada looked around the room. Nobody paid attention to them. The guard was busy arranging a bed for himself.

Moving closer to Haseo, Akitada whispered, “I know there are problems, but once we are out of this mine, I believe I can get us off the island. What I need to know is if there is another way out of this place. You’ve been here longer than I and you seem an intelligent man.”

Haseo glanced at the figure of the guard who lay across the tunnel opening again and was about to blow out the lamp.