I. Parker: Island of Exiles

The sleepy guards grumbled but seemed resigned to comings and goings all day and night. Taketsuna was chained again and walked off behind a burly guard. This time they entered the city. The streets were silent, and the shops shuttered. Moonlight lit their way. The prisoner shivered in the cool night breeze and tried to suppress his nervousness. Mano extended from the flat shore of the bay halfway up the encircling hills, and the provincial headquarters rose well above the rest of the city, with a commanding view of its many roofs and the shimmering silver of the bay and ocean beyond. Taketsuna risked a glance backward, as they climbed the wide stairs to the gate leading into the government compound, and was struck by the extraordinary beauty of a scene in such sharp contrast to the misery of certain of Sadoshima’s inhabitants.

The government compound was smaller than those Taketsuna had known in his former life, but it seemed in good repair and had the usual separate courtyards surrounding buildings of various sizes. The governor’s residence occupied a tree-shaded section just beyond the tribunal and archives. Except for the guards on night duty at the main gate and at the gate to the governor’s quarters, the compound lay deserted. Their arrival was barely noted. Taketsuna’s guard saluted the guards at the gate and led his prisoner past the tribunal to a smaller building just behind it. Here another pair of guards nodded them through the doorway. They walked down a long hallway lit by flickering oil lamps and stopped in front of a pair of wide doors. The guard knocked. Someone called out, “Enter!” and they stepped into a large room which was bare except for a desk and the seated figure of the governor.

The guard stood to attention, and Taketsuna knelt, touching his face to the polished floor.

“Take his chains off!” The governor’s voice sounded remote.

His tone was clipped and his speech cultured, but there was an abruptness and tension in his voice that made Taketsuna uneasy.

He felt the guard’s hands remove his chains but did not change his position.

“You may leave. Tell the guards outside that I do not wish to be disturbed.”

They must think the governor either a very brave man or a foolish one, thought Taketsuna. A desperate and violent criminal could easily make a hostage of him and bargain his way to freedom.

The door slammed behind the guard, and they were alone.

A rustle of silk; then soft steps approached and passed Taketsuna. There was the click of a latch falling into place, then the stockinged steps returned and paused next to the kneeling Taketsuna. A hand fell on his shoulder.

“My dear fellow, please rise. It is quite safe now. We are alone.”

The governor was nearly as tall as the prisoner, but age had bent his back a little. The black cap did not hide the gray of his hair, or his robe of office the weariness on his lined face. In the candlelight his eyes looked deeply sunken as they searched the convict’s features anxiously. “You are the person who has been sent . . . I mean, you are the man known as Yoshimine Taketsuna?”

Thinking the governor’s tone and manner odd, the prisoner said cautiously, “Yes.”

“I was informed of your coming. The captain of your ship brought me a letter from . . . someone of very high rank. It told me that you were to help me in my present difficulties.” The prisoner sighed. “May I see the letter, please?” he asked.

The governor fished it from his sash and passed it over. “My dear Sugawara,” he said earnestly, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am to see you like this.”

Akitada, who had been accustoming himself to the role of the convict Taketsuna, was angry. He looked around the room, bare except for the desk, a tall candle, two silk cushions, and four large lacquer trunks, and then went to throw open one panel of the sliding doors to the outside. A tiny landscape of rock, pebbles, lantern, and a few shrubs had been squeezed between the governor’s room and a high, blank wall. It was too small for anyone to hide in. He closed the door again and faced the governor.

“You should have destroyed this,” he said, after glancing at the short letter. “Please do it now.” He waited as the other man held the letter into the candle flame until it grayed, shriveled, and became dust. “Our meeting,” Akitada continued, “is dangerous. But since I am here, and you are informed of my purpose, I suppose you had better tell me what you know.” Reaching up to the collar of his stained robe, he picked at a seam. After a moment, he eased a thinly folded sheet of paper from between the layers of fabric and extended it to the governor, who unfolded it and read quickly before raising it reverently to his forehead.

With a deep bow, he returned the document. “Yes, quite in order. The vermilion seal and the seals of His Majesty’s private office. I am deeply honored. As you saw, my letter instructed me to assist you in investigating the murder of the Second Prince.

But my son-” He broke off and looked away. His thin hands, folded across his chest, clenched and unclenched convulsively.

Akitada said more gently, “Let us sit down.” Mutobe looked flustered. “Yes, of course. Please forgive me.

The past week has been terrible, terrible.” After they had seated themselves on the cushions-they were of good quality and not at all worn like those in Echigo-he looked at Akitada with deep concern. “Your face . . . I blame myself, but I could not prevent it.”

Akitada waved the apology away. “It is nothing.”

“Welcome to Sado, such as it is,” the governor said, still dubiously, “though, of course, you may not wish to continue with this dangerous impersonation now.”

“Why? Has the situation changed?”

“No. If anything . . . but heavens, sir . . .” Akitada raised a hand in warning. “No names and no hon-orifics. I am a convict called Yoshimine Taketsuna.” The governor swallowed and continued, “I cannot protect you. Not only is my administration compromised by the murder charge against my son, but now my son’s life is in danger. I dare not take any actions against my enemies.” He smiled bitterly. “It was my fault for attempting to curb Kumo and his minions. Now they are planning to get rid of me. The central government considers this island no more than a prison colony. The law here is enforced by the police, whose commander is a government appointee but works for Kumo, and by the high constable, who thinks he is responsible to no one but himself. So you see, your scheme is much too dangerous. A matter of life and death.”

“The murder of the Second Prince may well hide something far more dangerous. You suspect the high constable of plotting to remove you from office by linking you to the crime? Why would he do this all of a sudden?”

The governor blinked. “Isn’t it obvious? The man is a mega-lomaniac. He wants to rule this island. He already controls most of its wealth. Now he wants absolute power. In the years that I have been governor here, I have seen him seize more and more control. I have tried to stop him, but all it got me was a reprimand from the capital, and now my son is accused of a murder he did not commit.”

Akitada knew that local overlords could become very powerful and that the government often made use of their power by appointing them high constables, thus saving the cost of

maintaining troops in the distant provinces. But surely Kumo would not kill the Second Prince to seize a province? He said,

“The emperor is concerned. I am here to learn the truth about the murder and to verify your suspicions.” Mutobe brightened a little. “Yes. Perhaps Kumo will think you are one of them. Your disguise was a real stroke of genius.” Akitada was not so sure. He said dryly, “Let’s hope the matter is settled before they find out that the real Yoshimine is in jail in Heian-kyo.”