I Parker - The Fires of the Gods

There was no longer any doubt. He was standing in the head-quarters of the gang that had been setting the fires. A small group of street kids had terrified the capital into believing that the gods were punishing the country. Could they have hoped to topple the chancellor’s government? It was not likely. But when Tora and Jirokichi had come too close, they had caught Jirokichi and tried to kill Tora. They would have succeeded if another gang had not interfered.

That was interesting, but not reassuring. The young ‘monk’ Akitada hoped to restore to Abbot Shokan was most likely involved up to his handsome ears. If caught, he would be arrested and sent into exile and probable death.

And Shokan would be grievously embarrassed by this discovery and furious with Akitada.

He paused to listen. He was not safe here.

Something in the air of the warehouse changed subtly. It seemed dimmer, and there was a moldy smell. Akitada sniffed and looked around without being able to account for it. Then he heard a faint rushing sound, not unlike the distant roar of the sea. A soft plinking noise came from right above his head. He looked up into the darkness of rough beams. The plinking repeated, then multiplied, became a steady drumming… and he realized he heard the rain on the roof.

Finally, it had come, rushing and gurgling, to soak the land.

Akitada ran outside to watch it falling in silvery sheets, pock-marking the dry earth, covering the roofs and walls of buildings with glossy darkness. The trees turned a deeper green and danced gently in the shower.

His spirits lifted. The rain seemed to him to wash away the evil he had found inside. Surely that meant the gods had not forsaken them. There would be a good rice harvest after all. And the fires would cease.

He let the warm drops run down his face and lifted his hands to the cloudburst. The world became misty. The warm earth and the many roofs of the city that had been baking in the sun gave up their heat in steam. Finally, the summer rains had come.

Laughing softly to himself, he walked away from the warehouse. Even for him, hope was still possible.

He arrived at the Fragrant Peach drenched, but full of new energy and determination.

He knew from Tora’s report that this dirty dive was a hangout for criminals. These days, criminals organized much like tradesmen and merchants did. They formed brotherhoods that protected their members. Akitada thought that Tora had tangled with two different gangs: the one to which the three deaf mutes belonged, and the other, made up of young men in their early twenties or younger. The precise connection between the two gangs was not clear. The deaf mutes had attacked the arsonists to rescue Jirokichi, but they had then allowed the youths to escape. He would have to be careful.

He was not the only one who had ducked in from the shower that continued outside. The atmosphere was dim, smoky, and smelled of wet dog. Several damp locals sat chatting around a fire that put out more smoke than light, and the young waitress was serving them wine and bowls of pickles.

Since she played a significant role in Tora’s story, Akitada watched her a moment and decided she was a hardened criminal in spite of her youth and prettiness. They started their lives of crime young in these unsavory parts of the city. Even though she had seemingly helped Tora free Jirokichi, Akitada placed no trust in her.

The other customers were poor laborers, though a few looked like cut-throats. None were younger than twenty years.

He walked forward looking for a place to sit and saw that there was another part of the room: a raised section covered with worn mats. A single oil lamp cast its light on a youth. Akitada’s jaw dropped. There, in lonely splendor and apparently at his ease, sat the young Kiyowara heir.

Akitada did not know what to make of it. One of the ‘good people’ here, in such a place? It was impossible. But his heart rose. Whatever had brought the Kiyowara heir to this low dive, finding him was a gift from the gods. He had caught the son alone, without his family’s protection and in circumstances that might make him talk.

Of course, if the censors heard about it, his fate was sealed, but his prospects were poor already and he might just get to the bottom of this mystery in time to avert being arrested for murder because he was expendable while a relative of the chancellor was not.

He strode across the room with angry determination and stepped on the raised section.

Young Kiyowara looked up at him blankly.

‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Akitada, sitting down across from him.

The young man said nothing, but stared at Akitada as if he were an apparition.

‘Does your mother know you go slumming in this part of town?’

‘My mother?’ the other asked, still dumbfounded.

‘Hey.’ The young waitress appeared at Akitada’s elbow. ‘This is a private room. Go sit someplace else.’

The raised portion could hardly be described as a room, being open to the rest of the wine shop on two sides. ‘We have private business,’ he snapped. ‘Bring me some wine.’

She looked at His young Lordship, who seemed more befuddled than ever. ‘What private business?’ she asked the boy, who shook his head helplessly.

Akitada growled, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. I was supposed to investigate your father’s murder.’

The girl gasped, and the young man turned perfectly white. ‘M-my f-father’s murder?’ he stammered. ‘Who s-sent you here?’

The girl now grasped Akitada’s arm and pulled sharply. ‘You’d better leave or I’ll call my father,’ she threatened.

Akitada shook her off. ‘Go and get me that wine.’

She hesitated. The youth said nothing. He looked frightened. Reluctantly, and with several backward glances, she left.

Something did not feel right about this. Akitada looked the terrified youngster over. His robe, while of good silk with an intricate blue and white pattern, was not only worn, but also torn and stained in places. Perhaps it was meant as a disguise of sorts. Under the circumstances, that was almost funny. In any case, the clothing did nothing to hide the handsome face with its slanting eyebrows and pointed chin.

So what was Katsumi doing here, hanging out with thieves and robbers?

Then a memory surfaced. Had not Tora insisted the young lord had a double in the western city? On the one occasion that Akitada had met the young lord, the youngster was in the background and had taken no part in the conversation. Still, if this was another youngster, the two were startlingly similar.

But why had he cast this youth into a panic when he had mentioned the Kiyowara murder? If he was indeed someone else, he could not know of the crime.

Akitada asked more gently, ‘Are you Katsumi?’

The boy looked around as if for help. Then he shook his head.

‘Who are you and what exactly is your relationship to the Kiyowaras?’

The youth panicked. He shot to his feet. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he cried and bounded off the platform.

‘Oh no, you don’t,’ Akitada cried and went after him. But the youth was dodging customers in a full run for the door.

The wine shop became very quiet.

Akitada tried to follow, but someone put out a leg and he stumbled, caught himself, was tripped again, and fell full-length to the floor. He heard laughter.

Furious, he scrambled up and looked at sly faces. ‘How dare you? That youth may be a killer. The next person who interferes with me will have to deal with the constables.’

It was the wrong thing to say. Three burly men suddenly blocked his way. The rest watched, snickering. A dirty bearded man sitting near Akitada took a deep mouthful from his wine flask and spat it at him.