servant while telling the other what a useless fool he was to de-

stroy his master’s property.

The time crawled for Akitada, but eventually the squealing

above and cursing below stopped. The leg was free, and some-

one, Kumo presumably, hauled the youth out of the hole. The

ill-tempered servant departed, still muttering, and silence fell.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Akitada emerged from under the

pavilion. He listened and looked about. When all seemed clear,

he quickly swam back into the reeds and from there to where he

had left his clothes. As he dried himself with his loincloth and

dressed again, the nervous tension of the past hour melted and

he started shaking with laughter.

It was a while before he calmed down and realized that, for

all its farcical humor, the fat youth’s accident had spoiled his

perfect chance to get the answers he had come for.

C H A P T E R T W E LV E

T H E M A N DA L A

The following morning brought more surprises, the most dis-

turbing of which was the disappearance of Genzo.

As instructed, Akitada had risen early. Nobody else seemed to

be awake yet. After carrying wood and water into the kitchen and

washing at the well, he went to the stable to saddle their horses.

He wondered briefly about Genzo, but the scribe’s laziness was by

now so well established that he did not become suspicious until

he saw Genzo’s saddlebags lying empty in a corner.

He finished saddling up, then went back into the inn, where

he found the sharp-tongued mother of their hostess back in

charge. She merely grunted in response to his greeting. When he

asked about Genzo, she gave him a blank stare. “Who’s that? An-

other lazy layabout belonging to that piece of deadwood in

there?” She jerked her head in the direction of Osawa’s room.

Akitada grinned and asked if Osawa was awake.

For some reason, she flushed crimson. “If you can call it

that,” she snapped.

200

I . J . P a r k e r

Akitada started down the corridor.

“Hey, you can’t go in there now!” she shouted after him.

Ignoring her shouts, he raised his hand to open the

door to Osawa’s room, when he heard soft laughter inside.

He smiled to himself. The middle-aged, stuffy Osawa was reveal-

ing some astonishing talents in seduction. He knocked softly

and called Osawa’s name. The abrupt silence inside gave way

to the rustling of bedding. Osawa shouted, “What do you want?”

“I’ve saddled the horses, sir, but Genzo seems to have left

already.”

Another silence.

“Left? What do you mean, he’s left? He’s probably sleeping

someplace, the lazy lout. Wait, Takao!”

Too late. The door opened abruptly, and Takao, looking

almost pretty with her rosy flush and disordered hair, smiled up

at Akitada. She clutched her loose gown to her middle, but there

was little doubt that she was quite naked under it.

Osawa was sitting on his bedding and jerked up a quilt to

cover his own nakedness.

When Takao stepped aside, Akitada walked in, closing the

door behind himself. With a straight face he wished the inspec-

tor a very pleasant good morning and congratulated him on his

amazing recovery.

“Get out!” Osawa snapped.“Can’t you see I’m not . . . dressed?”

Akitada bowed to the landlady. “Your honorable mother is

in the kitchen,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes, then turned to Osawa and said, “Please

permit me to speak to my mother, dearest heart.”

He blushed and waved a languid hand.

Takao winked at Akitada, then asked Osawa coyly, “Shall I get

your gruel ready, since you are in such a hurry to leave me?”

Osawa looked embarrassed. “Yes. Er, we’ll talk later.” When

she was gone, he demanded, “Now, what is this about Genzo?”

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

201

“His saddlebags are empty. That suggests that he has left us.

Perhaps he has found better employment?”

Osawa scowled. “That piece of dung?”

“I believe the last time anyone laid eyes on him was the

night we arrived. He may have walked off as early as yester-

day morning. If he left Minato, he is long gone, and if he

stayed in town, he is keeping out of sight. What do you wish me

to do?”

Osawa muttered a curse. He knew as well as Akitada that

Genzo’s sudden flight made it likely that someone had lured

him away. True, he was not a very good scribe, but scribes were

scarce. And that was not all. Working for the provincial admin-

istration, Genzo was privy to information which could be valu-

able to criminal gangs or pirates, and Sadoshima certainly had

those. Genzo knew the size and itinerary of tax collections, the

contents of granaries and the provincial treasury, and the num-

ber of guards assigned to them. That made him a valuable

source of information.

“I have to bathe and eat something before we leave,” Osawa

grumbled. “Go into town and ask around if anyone has seen

him. If you cannot find him, report him to the local warden.

Make up some tale. Say he has stolen the mule.”

“He hasn’t stolen the mule.”

“Don’t be a fool,” snapped Osawa. “Of course you’ll have to

get rid of the mule. Just let it loose someplace.” He fluttered a

pudgy hand in the direction of the door. “Go on! Go on!”

Osawa’s manner seemed more irresponsible than usual. But

then, Akitada was concerned about Genzo’s whereabouts for

reasons other than the security of provincial taxes. Genzo

hated him and had made one attempt already to cause him

harm. Akitada had expected him to retaliate before now for his

humiliation at Kumo’s place. Possibly Genzo’s departure meant

that trouble was afoot.

202

I . J . P a r k e r

He walked about town for an hour or so, asking shopkeep-

ers, monks, and market women if they had seen a big man,

dressed, like Akitada, in the blue robe and black cap of a provin-

cial clerk. No one had. Genzo had disappeared into thin air, and

Akitada felt the same puzzled unease as two nights ago, when

the bird-faced man had followed him through the dark streets

and alleys of Minato.

Eventually he stopped at the warden’s office to report him

missing. He did not claim that Genzo had stolen the mule but

instead suggested the possibility of foul play. The warden was

unimpressed. He seemed to think that any free man working for

the governor was more likely to look for better employment

elsewhere.

When Akitada returned to the inn, he found Osawa and the

landlady walking about the courtyard. Osawa wore his boots

and traveling clothes and had the contented air of a man of

means. She was dressed in another pretty gown and clung to his

arm, fanning herself lightly. He was pointing at features of the

inn, while she listened attentively.

“And over here an addition,” he was saying, “as the family

grows, you know. We wouldn’t want to lose guest rooms.”

She giggled, hiding her face behind the fan.

As Akitada took his puzzled gaze off the couple, he noticed the

landlady’s mother standing in the kitchen doorway. She waved to

him, nodding her head and smiling broadly. This was so contrary

to her usual behavior that he went to ask her what had happened.

“Happened?” she said vaguely, watching the couple in the

courtyard. “Isn’t your master a handsome figure of a man? You’re

lucky to be working for such a learned and dignified official.”

Akitada turned to see if they were discussing the same per-

son. The balding and round-bellied Osawa was patting the land-