Now, in this icy weatherand at this time of day, the road was deserted. The gusts buffeted them andtossed the horses’ manes and tails. They were thankful when the gray easternsea came into sight beyond a forlorn cluster of fishermen’s wooden shacks andmore substantial warehouses. There were only traces of dirty snow about here,but the sky was an ominous gray and the waves roared and crashed onto the rockyshore. Far out, a fleet of three merchant vessels tossed and bucked on theiranchor ropes. All the smaller fishing boats, hundreds of them, lay pulled up onthe beach, weighted down with heavy nets and rocks.
Barely glancing at thewhitecapped sea, Akitada rode straight through Flying Goose village toward theonly buildings important enough to be Sunada’s residence. The large compoundwas enclosed by dirt walls and shaded by windswept pines.
Its main gate was made of heavybeams and boards, studded with big iron nails which had left bloody trails ofrust on wood grayed by the wet and salty sea air.
Tora pulled his sword from thescabbard and delivered a series of resounding knocks with its hilt. “Open up inthe name of the governor!” he bellowed.
The right side of the gate openedsoundlessly on well-oiled hinges. An elderly one-legged man on a crutch staredup at them. “What is it?” he croaked in the local dialect. “The master’sresting.”
“Out of the way!” Tora urgedhis horse forward and the man twisted aside, grabbing in vain for Tora’s bridlebefore he fell.
They galloped past largestorehouses, stables, and servants’ quarters to the main residence. There theydismounted, pushed past another gaping servant, this one missing an arm, andinto the interior of the house.
Akitada saw with one glancethat the mansion was spacious and built from the finest woods but in the styleof well-to-do merchants’ houses. He turned to the servant who had fallen to hisknees before him and seemed to be objecting in his heavy dialect.
“What is he saying?” Akitadagrowled to Genba, who was more likely than Tora to have picked up the localpatois.
“I think he says that hismaster’s sick.” Genba sounded dubious and added, “The fishermen hereabout talkdifferently from the townspeople.”
“Sick? Ask him if Sunada hasbeen out today?”
Genba did so, but the man keptshaking his head and repeating the same phrase while wringing his hands.
Akitada grumbled, “Come on! We’llfind the patient ourselves.”
The anteroom opened into alarge, gloomy reception hall where heavy pillars rose to the high rafters. Thetatami mats looked thick and springy, and on the walls paintings on silk-courtiers and ladies moving among willow trees and graceful villas-glimmered inthe dim half-light. At the far end, a long dais stretched the entire width ofthe room. It held only a single red silk cushion in its center.
Genba muttered, “If this is howa merchant lives, sir, Takata manor cannot be much better.”
“Not much more impressiveanyway,” said Akitada. With a glance at the paintings, he added, “And lessrichly furnished, I think.”
“Come on,” cried Tora from acorner behind the dais. “Here’s a door to the private quarters.”
They entered a smaller room, asort of study. A lacquered desk with elegant ivory writing utensils stood inthe center. Handsomely covered document boxes lined one wall, and doors openedonto a small garden. But this room, too, was quite empty and had the tidinessof disuse: a new ink cake, an empty water container, new brushes, and neatstacks of fine writing paper.
“Let’s look in those boxes,”said Genba. “I bet that’s where he keeps all his business accounts.”
“Later!”
In the dim hall, the servantstill hovered near the other end of the dais. When he saw them coming back, heducked behind one of the pillars and was gone.
Tora cursed. “Where did thatsneaky bastard go? We’d better catch him before he warns Sunada.”
“After him, Tora,” Akitadasaid. “Genba and I will check the rooms.”
They opened door after door onempty room after empty room. The roar of wind and tide was faint here; only thesoft hiss of the sliding doors on their well-oiled tracks and the sound oftheir breathing accompanied them through luxurious, unlived-in spaces. Therewere more paintings, carved and gilded statues, pristine silk cushionsprecisely positioned and unmarked by human limbs, lacquered armrests, bronzeincense burners without a trace of ash, copper braziers without coals,innumerable fine carvings, and containers of wood, ivory, jade, or gold.
“It’s like he’s emptied out atreasure house to furnish this place for a bride,” said Genba in one room,looking into brocade-covered boxes of picture scrolls and illustrated bookswhich filled the shelves of one wall.
They reached the end of thehallway without seeing anyone. Heavy double doors led outside to a broadveranda that extended across the back of the villa and continued along twowings on either side. Below was a large garden. Pines tossed in the wind andlarge shrubs hid paths leading off in all directions. Roofs of other buildings,large and small, were half-hidden by the trees.
“Which way now?” asked Genba,looking from side to side. “Should I shout for Tora?”
“No. Listen! I thought I heardmusic.”
But the rhythmic boom of thesea and creaking and rustling of the trees covered all human noise.
Akitada shook his head. “Itmust have been the wind. You take the right wing! I’ll go left.”
“What about the garden?”
“When you’re done. We’ll meetby that bridge over there.”
Akitada strode down thegallery, flinging open doors, checking more empty rooms. One of them containeda large painting of three ships at sea, the same ships, unless he was mistaken,as those in the harbor. Some odd-sized document rolls lay stacked on a largechest and he quickly unrolled the top one. It was a map, carefully prepared, ofan unidentified shoreline. Strange symbols marked the land, and lines separatedprovinces and districts. On the water tiny fleets approached harbors. He wasabout to roll it up again, when he noticed one of the symbols. It was theemblem drawn by Takesuke’s soldier, from the mysterious banner carried by someof Uesugi’s troops. Proof that Sunada was at the heart of the conspiracy.
Akitada ran down the steps atthe corner of the building and joined Genba on the bridge.
“Well?” he asked, seeing Genba’sface.
“The whole wing’s one hugeroom, sir. But I couldn’t get in. It’s locked.”
“Come,” cried Akitada runningahead. “That must be where he is. Couldn’t you force the door?”-this last in atone of frustration. Genba was, after all, immensely strong. If he could liftand toss a trained giant from the ring, why could he not break open a meredoor?
The answer became obvious. Thiswas no ordinary door. Its hinged, double-sided panels were made of thick slabsof oiled wood and embossed with bronze plates incised with gildedornamentation. The locking mechanism was hidden in a bronze plate decoratedwith the same emblem as on the banners and the maps, only here there was nodoubt what it represented: an ear of rice. And now Akitada understood the largewarehouses outside. No doubt they held a good part of the province’s riceharvests. The crest was that of a rice merchant. Sunada.
Akitada listened at the door.Nothing. Inside all was as silent as a grave. He turned away when he heard acry of pain in the garden. They rushed down the stairs and along a path thatled into the shrubberies. At a fork, they separated. Akitada found a rusticgarden house, little more than a tiled roof supported by slender woodencolumns. A heavy layer of dead vines curtained it. He thought he saw the vinesmove and flung the brittle tangle aside. Nothing. He turned to leave whensomeone flung himself on him, knocking him down.
“Got you, bastard!” snarledTora, yanking Akitada’s arms back. Akitada shouted at the pain in his shoulder,and the rest was confusion, because Genba arrived next and swung at Tora,knocking him across the narrow space and against one of the pillars. With acrash, the pillar gave and the garden house collapsed.
They disentangled themselves.Tora rubbed his back. “Sorry, sir. When I saw someone slipping into the gardenhouse, I. . .”
“And I heard the master cryout,” Genba said, “and thought some scoundrel had got hold of him. This is avery strange place. Where are all of Sunada’s people? There is nobody here butus and two old cripples. Why surround yourself with cripples when you’re asrich as Sunada?”
Akitada massaged his throbbingshoulder. “Sunada is a strange character. I remember he behaved with the
