The Dragon Scroll (8 page)

The deaf girl watched his lips carefully, nodded, and scurried up to the attic.

Tora looked from the giant with the magnificent black beard to Ayako. He felt completely out of his depth. Somehow nothing was as it should be with these people. Perhaps he had wandered among the fox spirits.

Ayako saw his frown and flushed a deep red. “It was my fault, Father,” she murmured, hanging her head. “I am so ashamed. I thought he was trying to grab Otomi...and I’m afraid I. . .” She did not finish.

“You mean it was you?” Tora was aghast. “You? A mere slip of a girl threw me? Impossible! This is a joke, isn’t it? It was you all along, Master Higekuro, wasn’t it?” He looked from one to the other. The girl turned away. Higekuro shook his head sadly.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I know how you must feel, and it grieves me deeply. A girl.” He sighed. “Try to forgive her. She is very good, you know. I taught her myself before I lost the use of my legs. She has been helping me in the school ever since, because I can no longer stand. Ayako handles all of the stick-fighting lessons and demonstrates the wrestling holds. I am crippled from the waist down and can only teach archery and give instruction and advice in the other arts.”

Tora was shaken. He avoided staring at the other man’s body and instead glared at Ayako. A woman fighter! There were stories about such women, but he was deeply offended by the impropriety of it. Women were supposed to be weak, soft, pleasing, and accommodating to their men. Perhaps there was some excuse in this case. The father was crippled and had no son to take over, but in Tora’s view Ayako was no longer a desirable female.

When Otomi returned with the salve and tended to his split lip with tender care and many commiserating glances from her beautiful eyes, he felt completely justified in his opinion of her sister.

Ayako handed him a cup of wine and said quietly, “My father is the best archer in the province. No one can beat him. Perhaps he could show you some of his techniques. At no charge, of course.”

Higekuro said modestly, “My daughter exaggerates, but yes. Allow us to show our gratitude. When the muscles went in my lower limbs, I concentrated on exercising my arms and upper body. Bending a bow and shooting at targets is good practice. When I became adept, I took on students.” He pointed to a scroll of characters hanging against the wall. “We live by those words.”

Tora blinked and nodded. He could not read.

“ ‘No Work—No Food,’“ Higekuro read. “We all work in our way, even little sister. She paints and is very good at it. After the day’s labors, the girls share the household duties while I make straw sandals. But enough of us. You must think us very poor hosts. How about some food for our guest, girls?”

Tora politely refused but was pressed to stay. While the daughters busied themselves with the cooking, Higekuro asked about the incident with the monks. When Tora had satisfied his curiosity, he shook his head and said, “I don’t understand it. Otomi used to visit all the temples within a day’s journey to make sketches for her paintings, but recently she has been reluctant to go. I did not know she had good reason to be afraid of monks. The Rat looks out for her, but if you hadn’t come along, he could not have helped her. I wonder what made those monks come after her.”

Tora snorted. “She’s a beauty, that’s why.”

Higekuro raised his eyebrows. “There have been complaints about young monks from the Temple of Fourfold Wisdom outside the city. I thought it was just youthful spirits, but perhaps we had better watch Otomi in the future.”

“Is it the big temple in the hills?” asked Tora.

“Yes. My daughters say it’s very beautiful. The new abbot is a great teacher. Many people travel here to hear him preach. The governor and his family, and most of the so-called good people attend his services.”

Tora was listening with only half an ear, his eyes on Otomi’s hips as she bent over the oven. “Those bastards!” he muttered. “I should’ve killed them.”

Higekuro followed his glance. “Are you a married man, Tora?”

“No. Never could afford a wife. Of course, now...” Tora decided it could not hurt to brag a little. “I serve Lord Sugawara from the capital. We just arrived.”

“Ah.” Higekuro nodded. “Your master was sent to look into the missing taxes. Don’t look surprised. That mystery is on everyone’s mind. Three times a whole tax convoy disappears— soldiers, bearers, packhorses, bag and baggage. And without a trace, if you can believe official notices.”

Tora took his eyes off Otomi and gaped at him. “How can such a thing be? It must be a lie. Do you believe it?” he asked.

“Hmm.” Higekuro looked thoughtful. “The present administration has been a good one in most respects. People will be sorry to see Lord Fujiwara go. My guess is that someone with the convoy, maybe on instructions from someone else, simply took the goods to the far north. There the bearers and soldiers were paid off and are too afraid of reprisals to come home.”

Tora said, “Those soldiers must be cowards and crooks, in which case the local garrison is to blame. Perhaps the garrison commander is behind it. Yes, that must be it. No wonder rowdy monks run wild in the market.”

Higekuro shook his head. “We have a new commander. He is young but efficient from what I hear. Besides, it’s really the prefectural police who are supposed to keep the peace in the city.” He gave Tora’s shoulder a friendly slap and said, “Well, perhaps you and your master will solve the puzzle for us. Here’s the food.”

The meal was plain but tasty, and the company pleasant, especially Otomi, who made up for her silence with the most speaking glances and tender smiles.

So much so that, when he finally took his leave, Tora promised with great fervor to return soon and often. Otomi blushed and Higekuro smiled.

* * * *

FOUR

THE GOVERNOR’S GUESTS

ow dare the man offer me a bribe the minute I arrive?” Akitada was pacing about the room angrily.

Seimei knelt on the mat, looking glum. “Perhaps it was a misunderstanding,” he said without much conviction.

The door opened abruptly. “Here I am,” cried Tora, grinning from ear to ear. When he took in the scene, he came in. “What’s the trouble?”

Seimei glared. “Where have you been? The nerve of walking in here as if nothing happened! Putting one’s trust in you is like relying on the stars on a rainy night.”

Tora wrinkled his forehead in an effort to comprehend that remark.

Akitada stopped his pacing and said, “Seimei is very upset, Tora, and rightly so. Why did you run off without a word?”

“Oh, is that what’s bothering him? Just wait till you hear.” Tora sat down and looked around the room.

Seimei snapped, “Servants do not sit in their master’s presence. Get up instantly and kneel!”

“Oh.” Grinning at Seimei, Tora knelt. “You’ll both be proud of me. I saved a girl from being raped by two monks and picked up some very useful information.” He paused. “Is there anything to eat? Maybe some wine? It’s hard to talk on an empty stomach.”

“No,” snapped Seimei.

Akitada came over and sat down. “Just tell us what happened,” he said.

Tora told his tale plainly. When he was done, he added virtuously, “I slept in the guardhouse and ran over here before my morning rice to make my report. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll go get a bite in the tribunal kitchen.”

“You call that a report?” scoffed Seimei. “The whole thing is a tall tale! You were chasing females, I think.”

“Never mind, Seimei,” said Akitada. “Tora had some strange encounters and reported them well. Best of all, he has already become friendly with a local family.” He pulled his earlobe and thought. “The Buddhist presence is puzzling. I wonder what it means. These monks seem to be a strange breed.”

Tora grinned at Seimei’s sour face and asked, “Shall I go back to Higekuro’s and ask more questions? Given a bit of time, I may be able to pick up something useful, like who’s made off with the taxes.”

“More likely you’re going to pick up something else in that house,” said Seimei. “A wrestler with two young daughters and no older female in the home? It is a known fact that martial arts schools often maintain links with criminals and prostitutes. You’d do well to beware of that company. A man’s faults are measured by his associates.”

Tora lost his temper and shouted, “What do you know, you stupid old man? You haven’t even met them. They’re better than you. They’re working for their daily rice instead of living off the nobility. You’re no better than a tick on a dog.”

Seimei’s jaw dropped. Akitada, who barely kept a straight face at being compared to a dog, knew that Seimei had somehow touched a raw nerve. He said quickly, “That is unkind, Tora. Apologize. Seimei spoke rashly because he worries about you. Go back to Higekuro if you like, but be careful about what you say until we have a better understanding of what is going on in Kazusa.” He brightened. “But before you leave, let’s have a short bout with the staves. You will want to stay in practice if you are going to impress the warrior maiden.”

♦

During the next days, Tora spent more time in town than at the tribunal, but since he presented himself dutifully every morning for a stick-fighting lesson with Akitada, his master had no complaints.

In respect to the mystery of the taxes, Akitada made little progress and remained as much in the dark as on the day of their arrival. Although the box of gold bars seemed to prove the governor’s culpability, Akitada decided against a confrontation and sent back the gold without comment. What ensued was a period of uneasy cooperation with neither man referring to the attempted bribe while observing punctilious protocol at unavoidable official meetings.

Seimei and Akitada spent every day in the provincial archives checking the accounts covering Motosuke’s term of office. Akitada’s youth might have made him an unlikely inspector, but both his university training and his drudgery in the archives of the Ministry of Justice had thoroughly prepared him to search out, understand, and evaluate every financial transaction, from the collection of the smallest fine to the confiscation of land and property. Seimei wrote a very neat hand and kept notes indefatigably, and Akinobu, the governor’s secretary, proved a pleasant and very intelligent assistant.

But the day arrived when they closed the last box of files and Seimei made his last computation. No questionable documents had appeared and all accounts were in excellent order.

“What do we do now?” asked Seimei.

Akitada bit his lip. “Officially, my work is complete. You draw up the proper release papers, I sign and affix my seal, and Motosuke’s record is clear.”

“But what about finding out what happened to the taxes?”

“I shall have to report failure. Unless...” Akitada frowned. “Unless Motosuke’s private papers account for the sums that were lost.”

“Oh.”

“I know. Requesting his private accounts amounts to a serious insult.”

Silence fell. Seimei hunched his shoulders and sighed.