utmosthumility at Takata, but in the city he swaggered among the merchants andattempted to control my staff. Apparently he lives alone here, in a house whichis large and empty-for we have seen neither bedding nor clothes boxes for afamily-yet in the city he keeps women and indulges in lavish and luxuriousparties. He hires cutthroats to intimidate the little people outside, butemploys injured fishermen who can no longer make a living on the sea.”
“Fishermen?” Genba asked,surprised.
“The two servants. Both of themare local men by their dialect and both are maimed.”
“No wonder they wouldn’t helpus.”
“Yes. But I wonder why thehouseman looked so worried.” Akitada turned to Tora. “Did you see anythingunusual?”
Tora grumbled, “This wholeplace is haunted. There are ghosts in the trees playing lutes.”
Genba laughed. “You’ve got tostop seeing ghosts all the time, Tora. It’s addling your brains.”
“Playing lutes?” said Akitada,grasping Tora’s arm. “Where did you hear that? Show me!”
Tora retraced his steps. Suddenly,faintly, through the whistling of the wind in the boughs, they heard it.Someone was playing a lute.
Tora froze. “There. That’s whatI heard.”
Akitada pursued the sound,followed by Genba and, reluctantly, Tora. They broke through a thicket at theend of the property and stood before a small pavilion. Beyond, the dunes beganand sere grasses grew all around and up to its bleached wooden steps. The windwas loud here, but so was the sound of a lute, inexpertly plucked, buthauntingly sad in this desolate place.
Akitada’s face was grim. Heturned and said, “Both of you wait here till I call you.”
He walked quickly up the stepsof the small veranda, almost stumbling over the huddled shape of the one- armedservant who was cowering there, and flung open the door.
The room was tiny. All itcontained were a pristine grass mat and the owner of the estate. If he hadnoticed Akitada’s abrupt entrance, he gave no sign.
Sunada sat hunched over abeautiful lute, muttering to himself as he picked out a vaguely familiar tune. “Thesnows will come, and the snows will go,” he sang softly, “and then my heartwill melt into a flood of tears.”
“A famous old tune,” Akitadaremarked, closing the door behind him. “Where did you learn it?”
Sunada did not look up. “She usedto sing it.” His voice was brittle, like the dried leaves of the summerhouse. “Shesang beautifully. Astounding in someone of her class. I fell in love with herwhen I first heard her. Of course, there was also her physical beauty, butother girls had that.” He paused to pluck more notes, random ones, and smiled. “Ihave traveled far and had many women. She was like none of them.”
Akitada quietly lowered himselfto the floor.
“How did you find me?” Sunadaasked almost casually.
“The lute. The curio dealertold me that the woman Ofumi had one that was so rare and expensive that itcould only be purchased by you.”
“Ah. I did not plan this. Onedoes not plan an obsession. Imagine. The daughter of peasants and wife of adoss-house keeper on the post road! She could not speak properly when I firstmet her.’’
“How did you meet?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Purechance. The Omeya woman used to find entertainment for me. One day I came tomake arrangements for a small party and found her giving lute lessons to aperfect goddess. I canceled the party and spent the night with my goddessinstead.”
“She was willing?” Akitadathought of the widow’s claims that she had been forced to submit to Mrs. Omeya’scustomer.
Sunada finally looked at him,surprised. With a cynical grimace, he said, “Naturally-eager even, as soon asthe old one explained who I was. Oh, I always knew Ofumi for what she was, butI wanted her, needed her …” He grimaced again and broke off. Raising the lutewith both hands above his head, he brought it down violently, smashing thedelicate inlaid woods into splinters, and tearing at the strings with franticfingers until the wires parted with a sound that hung in the room like ascream, and blood ran from his hands.
“It was you who killed her,wasn’t it?” Akitada said softly.
“Dear heaven!” Sunada looked athis bleeding hands and began to weep. “This woman whom I raised from the gutterto become my consort, for whom I built and furnished this house, for whom I didunimaginable things-she betrayed me. Betrayed
“You did not answer myquestion,” Akitada persisted.
Sunada lowered his hands andlooked at Akitada. “Come, Governor, don’t plague me with questions. Nothingmatters any longer.”
“What about Mrs. Omeya? Did youkill her?”‘
Sunada frowned. “That woman!You know what she whispered to me? That your lieutenant had been spending hisnights with my future wife. She thought I could use the information againstyou.” Sunada laughed. “The fool!”
Silence fell.
Akitada said, “I am arrestingyou for the-murders of the woman Ofumi, her landlady, Mrs. Omeya, and thevagrant Koichi.”
Sunada ignored him. He fingeredthe broken lute. “Music fades …” He raised his eyes to Akitada’s. “You know,”he said with a crooked smile, “Uesugi underestimated you, but I never made thatmistake. A worthy adversary is preferable in a contest for power, don’t youthink? And I was winning, too. Wasn’t I?”
Yes, thought Akitada, Sunadahad been winning all along. Had it not been for the merchant’s fatal obsessionwith that arch seductress, Akitada would have been powerless to prevent adisastrous uprising. Aloud he said, “No. The gods do not permit the destructionof divine harmony. You raised your hand against the Son of Heaven.”
Sunada sighed. “Always theofficial view.”
“It is over, Sunada.”
The other man nodded. “I nolonger care. You will find what you seek in my library, the large room in thewest wing. Behind the dragon curtain are documents, plans for the insurrection… it will be enough to end my life . .. and the lives of others.”
NINTEEN
THE TURNING WHEEL
Well done!” grunted Hitomaro, parrying Akitada’s long sword and stepping back.
Both men were stripped to thewaist, their bare skin covered with the sheen of perspiration on this gray andcold morning outside the tribunal hall. Akitada smiled briefly and checked thebandage on his left shoulder. “I think it’s coming back to me,” he said. “I wasafraid my arm had stiffened.”
“One rarely forgets the rightmoves.”
Hitomaro’s face did not loseits gravity. Akitada had hoped that the workout would lift his lieutenant’sspirits, but he had not once lost his detachment. Akitada did not like thatfaraway look in Hitomaro’s eyes; he seemed to be gazing into an unseen world,listening for an unheard sound.
“I would not wish to disgracemyself before Takesuke,” Akitada joked lamely. “He already has a very pooropinion of me.” They all thought that a battle was unavoidable. Men would dieand, unlike Sun Tzu, Akitada did not believe that men ever died gladly. Theresponsibility frightened him more than his own death, but he could not falternow.
Hitomaro resumed his position.They reengaged and continued their practice until the nearby monastery bellsounded the call for the monks’ morning rice. When Captain Takesuke arrived,they were bent over the well bucket, sluicing off their sweat.
Takesuke smiled when he took inthe significance of the sword practice. “I’m happy to see you quite
