I. Parker - Island of Exiles

“Why do you laugh?” Haseo asked.

“We look terrible, but by heaven, we will make it,” said Akitada, and raised a grin on Haseo’s drawn face. “Your leg still bleeds. Can you walk?”

Haseo got up and took a few steps to look down the mountainside. “Come on,” he said. “This way. It’ll stop bleeding, and if it doesn’t, I’ll at least put some distance between myself and those bastards before I collapse.”

As the sun slowly rose over the mountains, they scrambled through gorse, brambles, and shrubs, sliding part of the way on their backsides, until they reached a small stream. It bubbled and splashed downhill, making its way around rocks and over them until it reached a small basin, where it pooled, clear as air, before washing over a rock outcropping in a small waterfall.

Here they drank thirstily and then washed themselves. The water was cold, but it removed layers of dust, sweat, and dirt and made both of them feel nearly human.

It was such a pleasant place, and so peaceful-the only sign of life a rabbit, which scampered off-that they paused to tend to their injuries. Akitada tore up his shirt and replaced the blood-soaked bandage on Haseo’s leg. The bleeding seemed to have lessened, but Haseo was pale and shivered even though the day was warming and they were sitting in the sun.

“I’m going to slow you down,” Haseo said, when he got to his feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m limping myself.” Akitada’s knee had not taken well to the hurried descent. It was painful, and Akitada feared it would swell again.

Haseo glanced at it and chuckled weakly. “Two cripples.” They smiled at each other, though there was little to smile about, and followed the stream downhill. Akitada liked Haseo’s cheerfulness. The silent, glowering prisoner in the stockade had been a different man. This Haseo had both courage and a sense of humor. And he spoke like an educated man.

“Why weren’t you speaking when we first met?” Akitada asked after a while. “I thought you hated us.” Haseo’s face darkened. “I did. I found that when the constables and guards heard me speak, they were quite likely to use the whip on me. Mind you, it took me a while to work this out. I used to think that a man with my background might make a difference in the way the prisoners were treated. But my sugges-tions and comments were not well received by either the guards or my fellow prisoners. When one of the other prisoners ratted to the soldiers that I planned to complain about their brutality to the next official I encountered, I learned my lesson. My back’s a constant reminder not to trust anyone. So I stopped talking altogether.”

“But you spoke to me in the mine.”

Haseo smiled crookedly. “By then I knew you were like me.

Too clever to know when to shut up. Who are you, by the way?”

“Sugawara Akitada. I’m an official on temporary assignment in Sadoshima.”

“Sugawara?” Haseo raised his brows and whistled. “And an imperial official! But you mean you used to be. What crime did you commit?”

“None. I’m neither a prisoner nor an exile. I’m a free man.” Haseo fell back into the grass and burst into helpless laughter. Akitada stopped and chuckled.

“Well,” he corrected himself, “I’m theoretically a free man.

The problem is getting back to provincial headquarters in Mano to establish my identity. And the gods only know what will await us there.”

Haseo stopped laughing and sat up slowly. “You are serious?

But what happened?”

Akitada bent to give Haseo a hand and winced at the pain in his knee. “It’s too long a story. Let’s keep moving and I’ll try to tell you some of it on the way.”

But when he turned, his eyes caught some movement on the other side of the stream. A large furry animal of some sort?

Perhaps, but he did not think so.

“Take cover,” he whispered to Haseo, and crossed the stream. His knee hurt, but he had to find out if they had been seen.

He caught sight of the squat brown figure almost immediately. Resembling some lumbering bear with a curly mane from this distance, the goblin was hurrying uphill with two buckets of water. Akitada scanned the area. Could they be that close to the mining camp? The hillside was empty, but evidently the stream was where the goblin got the water to cook with. Dear heaven, what if she had seen them? He could not take that chance.

The Ezo woman was not particularly agile at the best of times, and the full buckets hampered her. When she stopped to look back, Akitada was certain. He made a dash and seized her shoulders to swing her around. Water splashed from the buckets, and she gave a little cry.

Now that he had caught the woman, Akitada did not know what to do with her. Prudence suggested killing her, or at least tying her up to gain them a little more time, but he remembered the extra food she had brought him and could not bring himself to do either.

She looked up at him with an expression that was part fear and part joy. He dropped his hands, and she set down the buckets and smiled the familiar gap-toothed grin. “You safe,” she said, nodding her head. “Good! You go quick now.” A dirty brown hand gestured downhill. When he did not move, she said, “They looking in mountain.” Her arm swept upward and waved a circle around the mountain looming above to indicate that the search had not progressed from the mine yet.

Haseo came up behind him. “We cannot let her go,” he said softly.

Akitada swung around and hissed, “No. She won’t tell.” He wished he were as certain as he sounded. Her words had implied that she would not, but what if she had lied to save her neck? It was a terrible risk to take, and he was risking Haseo’s life also.

Haseo shook his head. “Don’t be a fool. She’s the enemy. I’ll do it, if it bothers you too much.” He brought his hand forward and Akitada saw that he was clutching a large rock.

He stepped between Haseo and the woman. “No. She saved me from the fire and was kind to me. I cannot repay her by letting you murder her.”

They spoke in low voices while she watched nervously.

Someone shouted in the distance, and she cocked her head.

“You go now. Quick or they kill!” she said urgently, gesturing toward the valley.

Akitada put his finger to his lips, and she nodded. He turned and took Haseo’s arm and pulled him back into the trees.

Haseo dropped the rock. “That was foolish. They’ll be after us faster than you can blink an eye. You should have left her to me. I would have made sure of her.”

Akitada just shook his head.

They struggled on, following the stream down the mountain as fast as their legs could carry them while listening for sounds of pursuit. Fearful of being seen from above, they stayed under the cover of trees, though it slowed them down.

But all remained quiet, and eventually, out of breath and unable to run anymore, they reached the valley. The stream had widened and the mountains receded on either side of them.

They saw the first signs of human habitation, small rice paddies or vegetable patches tucked on narrow plateaus. Haseo helped himself to a large radish and a half-ripe melon at one of these, and they stopped briefly to devour the food and wash it down with water.

Later they skirted a few small farms, cautious about being seen, even when the buildings looked like abandoned shacks.

Akitada feared that the peasants were loyal to Kumo and would report to him the sighting of escaped miners. Walking became more and more difficult. They needed rest, but fear of their pursuers kept them plodding on doggedly.

The sun was setting when they staggered down yet another hill and found a road.

“I cannot go any farther,” said Akitada, dropping down under a fir tree, one of a small copse, and rubbing his painfully swollen knee. “How is your leg?”