I. Parker - Island of Exiles

Akitada caught a speculative look on Haseo’s face before they were plunged into the dark. “There might be,” Haseo breathed in his ear.

“How?” Akitada breathed back.

“Old tunnels. The ones they stopped working. Nobody goes in them anymore. There’s one where air is blowing in through the planks that board it up. Fresh air!” Akitada had noticed that the smoke had cleared out of the mine rather quickly, and that cool air currents passed through the tunnel all day and night, but he had not thought why this should be so. Now he realized that the air came from the outside and moved back to the outside, and that meant there were other openings in this mine.

“Of course!” he said, and sat up, causing the chains around his ankles to rattle.

The guard in the tunnel entrance growled sleepily, “Quiet there, filth, or I’ll put you on night shift.” Total silence fell. Even the snorers held their breaths.

There was no chance of further talk that night or during the following day, but Akitada was alert to the air currents as he made his way back and forth with his basket. He found the place Haseo had mentioned, and the next time they passed the boarded-up section, he caught up to him and gave his basket a small nudge. Haseo paused for the space of a breath, then, without looking back, he nodded his head.

The opening was slightly smaller than the tunnel they were in. They would have to crawl, but it was not as tiny as the badger holes and might even widen out later. The boarding-up had been done in a makeshift manner, more to mark this as an abandoned working and to keep people from getting lost than to prevent entrance.

Akitada spent the rest of the day memorizing the location and trying to picture the direction of the abandoned tunnel in relation to the cliff and the rest of the mountain they were working. He thought it likely that somehow one of the workings of a vein of silver ore had led from the interior of the mountain back to its surface. Each time he passed the blocked tunnel, he sniffed the air, and imagined that he could detect a faint tang of pine trees and cedars.

That night he waited impatiently for the guard to go to sleep, then murmured very softly to Haseo, “Are you willing to try?” There was no answer. He opened his mouth to repeat his question more loudly, when a callused hand fell across his lips.

Haseo whispered, “When?” The hand was lifted, and Akitada breathed, “Tomorrow night?”

There was a very soft snort, almost a chuckle, and, “You’re a fool!”

Akitada was not sure what that meant. He spent most of the night considering how they might accomplish such a mad endeavor. And mad it surely was, for no one knew if they would really find a way out. But what did they have to lose?

And staying here longer while he slowly regained his strength was even more foolhardy, for Kumo’s order to put him to death might arrive any moment.

He was methodical about his planning. Their only chance of getting away was at night. Only one guard stayed with them and, certain that the prisoners were too exhausted to attempt anything, he slept. To be sure, he slept with his body blocking their only way out, secure in the knowledge that the chains on their feet would warn him of any improper movements. The guard was the first obstacle, but not an insurmountable one.

Next Akitada considered whether they should invite the other prisoners to join them. He rejected the thought-

reluctantly, because help was useful. The abandoned tunnel might contain obstructions, and Akitada was not really strong enough yet for what might await them inside. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of becoming lost and dying a slow death of starvation in utter darkness. There was also safety in numbers, because the guards would have a much harder time chasing down twenty men than two. But the trouble with taking the others was that they would make too much noise and slow them down. Besides, the cowed creatures he had observed might well give the alarm and draw the guards after them.

So it had best be just the two of them. After overcoming the sleeping guard, they would make their way up the main tunnel to the boarded section. They would need a few tools.

Fortunately, the workers left their hammers and chisels lying about. They would also need an oil lamp and some flint.

And they would need a lot of luck. A great deal depended on whether the boarded-up tunnel led out of the mine, preferably without emerging near the front. Akitada whispered some of this to Haseo, who responded merely by squeezing his shoulder.

The next morning there was little chance for communica-tion with Haseo except through eye contact. Among the discarded debris were rags and remnants of frayed rope. Akitada cast a meaningful glance at one such pile and bent to touch his chained ankle. Then, in passing, he scooped up a handful of the torn material, tucking it inside his shirt. He noticed that Haseo did the same later. They dropped their gatherings near their sleeping places, where they attracted no notice because the floor was already covered with all sorts of litter. At one point, Haseo surreptitiously slipped a chisel under their small hoard, and before the light was extinguished, Akitada marked a place where several hammers had been left.

That night they ate what might be their last meal for a long time, perhaps forever. Then they waited. They did not talk.

There was nothing to talk about, and they could not afford to attract attention.

When he judged that the snoring around them had achieved its usual fullness and rhythm, Akitada began passing rags and rope bits to Haseo. They wrapped the fabric carefully around their chains to muffle them.

When the moment came, it was Haseo who gave the signal and Haseo who moved first. Akitada had wanted to get to the guard himself to silence him because he feared that Haseo would simply kill the man. But it was too late to worry about it.

Too much-their lives-hung in the balance, and this guard was one of the more cruel Ezo males.

Akitada crept toward the tools, felt for two hammers and a second chisel, and tucked them into his belt. Then he crept back to the tunnel opening. By now his heart was pounding so violently that it interfered with his hearing. Where was Haseo?

At one point Akitada put his hand on a sleeper’s leg and froze, but the man merely mumbled and turned over. He was still crouching there, trying to remember the layout of the room, when Haseo’s hand fell on his shoulder. He heard him breathe,

“Follow me,” and took his hand.

Moving soundlessly, they came to the guard, now unconscious or dead, and, feeling their way, stepped over his body.

The room behind them remained quiet. Holding their breaths, they shuffled up the dark tunnel as quickly and silently as they could. Akitada expected to hear an outcry at any moment, but nothing happened.

When they reached the boarded-up tunnel, he passed one of the hammers to Haseo, whispering, “What did you do to the guard?”

Haseo must have rescued his chisel, for he was already loosening the boards. “What do you think?” he hissed as something creaked and splintered.

“Careful,” whispered Akitada. “Someone might hear.” He reached for his own chisel and felt along the edge of the top board. Haseo had loosened it so that it could be pulled outward.

Other boards were nailed to it. “Can we just shift it enough to creep through and close it behind us? It would give us time when they start searching.”

Instead of answering, Haseo bent to loosen the lower edge while Akitada pulled. Working by touch alone was difficult. Akitada had forgotten to bring a light, and had had no opportunity to steal a flint anyway. The thought of creeping into an unfamiliar tunnel in utter darkness momentarily made his stomach heave. He reminded himself that showing a light would have been too dangerous anyway.