I. Parker - Death on an Autumn River

To his relief, Sadenari was gone, but then the sun was already high. Akitada sat back down and held his throbbing head. He had no recall of the later part of the evening. Had he drunk too much, or had there been something wrong with the wine or the food? A vague memory surfaced of Sadenari telling him something last night, but he could not recall what it had been.

With more groans, he got up and dressed in his plain robe and trousers. Last night’s finery looked badly creased and stained. As he bent to pick up the silk trousers to hang them on the clothes stand, a blinding pain stabbed at his eyes from inside his skull. He reeled and suppressed another bout of nausea.

He clapped his hands for one of the maids and asked for hot water. When it came, he washed his face and hands, and retied his topknot. The maid took his good clothes away to have them cleaned.

Feeling slightly better, he went in search of Sadenari. Tea would have been welcome, but most people did not make it part of their diet, and he could not stomach more wine, or even gruel. He headed for the main hall and Nakahara’s office.

Nakahara was not there yet, a fact that cheered Akitada a little. His clerk Tameaki was arranging the mass of papers and documents into neat piles and writing small notes to place on top of them.

When he saw Akitada, he bowed. “I regret that the director is not available yet, sir. Can I be of assistance?”

“I wondered what had happened to my clerk.”

“He left early this morning with Nariyuki. I assumed it was on your business.”

Akitada frowned. What was it that Sadenari had babbled about last night? He had been very tired-and very drunk, if he was honest-but surely in that condition he would not have sent the boy on an assignment.

Tameaki read the puzzlement in his face and smirked. “I may well have jumped to conclusions, sir. Nariyuki likes any excuse to visit the wine shops in the city. I did hear the word “pirates.” Does that suggest anything?”

It did, and most unpleasantly. Akitada still had no idea what they had talked about, but he was nearly sure now that pirates had figured in it. He sat down and held his aching head again. What damage was the impossible youth doing now?

Ever solicitous, Tameaki asked, “Are you unwell, sir? Can I send for someone or perhaps offer you some wine?”

Akitada shuddered. “No, nothing. Thank you. There was most likely some misunderstanding. Sadenari should return eventually.” He glanced at the desk with its newly neat stacks of papers and added, “I’ve interrupted your work. What are you doing?”

Tameaki sat down. “I try to keep things in their proper places, and I write notes to remind the director of the subjects and which is most urgent.”

“I see.” Akitada felt that this was something that should not be left to a young clerk. Here was another example of Nakahara’s carelessness with classified materials and private letters. Somewhere in those stacks were the documents he had delivered yesterday. “You must have earned your superior’s confidence. That speaks highly of your abilities.”

Tameaki looked modest. “It is very kind of you, sir, but I’m afraid it’s more a matter of who is available to do the work.” He shot Akitada a glance. “Not that I don’t enjoy the work and feel the greatest gratitude to Director Nakahara for allowing me to help.”

It all sounded very praiseworthy, but Akitada felt uneasy about the industrious Tameaki. Perhaps it had to do with his real errand here. Anyone working here could be passing information to the pirates. He looked around.

“I assume Director Nakahara keeps some documents securely locked away?”

“Oh, yes.” Tameaki patted a wooden box on the desk. It had the metal bands and lock of a small money chest. Its key was in the lock.

At that moment, Nakahara himself trailed in. His skin looked pasty, and his eyes were blood-shot and puffy. Akitada hoped he looked better than that.

“Oh,” Nakahara said. “Very sorry to be late. Something I ate didn’t agree with me. I hope you slept well, Sugawara?”

“Yes. Thank you. Our quarters are very comfortable. Allow me to thank you for the fine entertainment last night.”

Nakahara blinked. “Was it fine? I don’t remember much. They had to carry out Watamaro. He and the governor went home in the governor’s carriage.” He shook his head and winced. “That wine was very strong. How are you, Tameaki? All bright-eyed and eager, as usual?”

“Yes, sir,” said Tameaki, getting up and bowing. “I straightened your desk. Do you have any other work for me?”

The director made it to his seat and waved Tameaki away. “No, nothing. Go do some filing or whatever.” He collapsed on his cushion and groaned.

Tameaki’s footsteps faded. Akitada got up and looked behind the piles of goods. But Tameaki was really gone, and Akitada closed the door to the hallway. When he was seated again, he said, “It was very good of you to introduce me to the local notables last night. Do you suspect one of them of being involved with the pirates?”

Nakahara looked shocked. “Good heavens, no! The governor happened to be in town. He usually stays on his estate upcountry. Watamaro, of course, I invited because he can be useful to you. He knows all there is to know about shipping routes. Munata was included because the governor stays at his house when he’s here, and the professor knows a lot about foreigners. He’s descended from them himself, you know.”

Akitada took this for proof that his fellow countrymen did not accept immigrants readily or forget the origin of their descendants. He said nothing about it, however. Instead he asked again, “So you trust them all?”

Nakahara twitched uncomfortably. “I don’t know that I trust you,” he said, half-joking. He rubbed his face. “I beg your pardon. This has been a worrisome business. What exactly are you going to do about it?”

Akitada did not know and ignored the question. He said, “I’m anxious to get to work on the reports. It was good of you to make a room available, but my clerk seems to have disappeared again. I suppose, I’ll have to write them myself. Perhaps you can let me have the lists requested by the controller’s office.”

“Oh, you can borrow Tameaki,” Nakahara said generously. “He’s irritating but efficient.”

“Thanks, but I like to keep myself informed. Perhaps later, if Sadenari hasn’t returned by then.”

The reports of foreign goods shipped from the Dazaifu, the clearing office in Kyushu, and of tribute goods from the western provinces were the ostensible reason Akitada was sent here. The government was mired in paperwork, and in this case only a legal expert could understand the tangled laws, permits, authorizations, shares paid to local administrations, and special exceptions. Akitada did not look forward to this work, especially since he fully expected a lax administrator like Nakahara to have mislaid crucial documents.

Somewhat to his surprise, Nakahara came up with most of the required information, perhaps thanks to the orderliness of the underappreciated Tameaki.

“What do you plan to do about the other matter?” Nakahara asked again, though his expression suggested that he would rather not know.

“Nothing for the time being,” said Akitada. “I have a job to do. Perhaps your documents will provide some insight on who benefits from the pirate attacks.”

Nakahara shuddered. “I doubt it. A very unpleasant business.”

Akitada spent the rest of the morning in a small eave chamber on Nakahara’s papers. Apart from the totally absent shipments that had fallen to the pirates, they seemed to be mostly correct. There was the usual pilfering by ships’ captains and warehouse supervisors, but this was normal and the government did not concern itself with it. Nothing he had read suggested who was behind the pirate attacks.