“I’ll come back,” he said, taking pity, and left quickly.
The wine shop was a few streets away and crowded with poor laborers and small tradesmen. Tora’s military garb got him hostile stares instead of admiring glances. “You hang around with a low crowd,” he told the doctor sourly.
Ogata ignored the comment and sat down near the wine barrels. He ordered a large flask of their best from the waiter who rushed up eagerly.
“Their best probably tastes like dog piss,” grumbled Tora, but he asked the waiter to bring some pickled radish to go with the wine.
Ogata smiled with approval. Wine and radish appeared, and Tora paid, while the doctor poured himself a cup, gulped down the wine, refilled the cup, and emptied that also.
“Bad manners, I know,” he said, pouring the next cup for Tora and passing it over, “but I needed that. That poor, miserable girl. I offered her a job as a maid, but I can’t pay her what she makes as a whore, and she sends all her earnings to her mother and grandparents.” He heaved a sigh. “Ah, well. That’s better. Now, young man,” he asked, “what is it that you want from me?”
Tora stared, then grinned. The shrewd old codger!
“Well,” he said, “I want information about Wada. And about the prisoners you may have seen lately. One called Taketsuna in particular.”
Ogata raised his brows, then nodded. “Oh, Taketsuna. Yes, I remember him. I’ve wondered. He’s disappeared, you know. So that’s why you’re here. And you think Wada is responsible for his disappearance?”
This was almost too easy. Tora leaned forward eagerly. “Yes, I do. I just don’t know the reasons and the means, and what he’s done with him. What can you tell me about Taketsuna?” Ogata looked at him, then lowered his eyes to his empty cup and was silent for a long time. Finally he said, almost sadly, “I don’t think I can help you, Tora. Take my advice and go home.
If you go on with this, you’ll come to harm. Like Taketsuna.” He reached for the wine flask, but Tora clutched his hand hard.
“Ouch. Let go! I need my hands.”
Tora let go, but fear and anger overwhelmed him. The old crook was playing games with him. “Tell me what you know, you old drunk!” he shouted. “We had a deal. I paid up. Now it’s your turn.”
The room fell silent. Then there was a general shuffling as some of the guests got up and joined them.
“You need any help, Doctor?” asked a tall, broad-shouldered man with a scarred face.
“Yes,” piped up a small man, “we’ll teach him about respect, show him what’s what.” He stuck a scrawny fist in Tora’s face.
Ogata raised his hands. “It’s all right, friends. He got some bad news, that’s all. Thanks, but go sit back down. It’s a private conversation.”
Tora watched the men shuffle off, muttering and casting suspicious glances over their shoulders. He was spoiling for a fight, but thought better of it. Turning to Ogata, he said fiercely,
“I came here to find Taketsuna and I will do so or die. And if I find he’s dead, I’ll go after his killer. Neither you nor your friends can frighten me off.”
Ogata refilled his cup and drank. “Better order another flask,” he said. “All right, I saw Taketsuna the day after he arrived. The governor sent me to have a look at him. He was with some other prisoners in the harbor stockade and had a few bruises from the welcome Wada’s constables had given him, but he was otherwise well. I could see he was no commoner, so I convinced the governor to take him on as a scribe. He was put to work in the archives and stayed with the prison superintendent Yamada and his daughter. Then one day he was gone. I know the Yamada family well, and the girl told me he had left with the tax inspector Osawa for an inspection tour. That’s all I know. I never laid eyes on him again.”
Tora was not satisfied. “Why do you think something bad happened to him?” he demanded. He could not bring himself to mention death.
The doctor sighed. “Young man, I do not know who you are, and I did not know who Taketsuna was, except that he was one of the good people and had no idea what he was getting into.
Maybe he was a convict, but there was something about him that made me wonder. Just as I’m wondering about you now.
You both look and act like men bound for trouble, and I think Taketsuna found it. Me, I avoid trouble at all cost.” He started to rise.
“Wait!” Tora put a hand on the doctor’s arm. “I think you told me the truth,” he said. “But you’re wrong. Trouble will find you wherever you are. You’re a learned man and you get to talk to your governor. How can you keep on patching up that poor girl’s back and do nothing about that animal Wada?” Ogata suddenly looked very old. He said, “Because I’m more good to her and to others like her alive than dead. You know, your master asked the same sort of question.” His watery eyes looked in the distance and he shook his head. “We were looking at a corpse. Beaten to death. A good example why a man should keep his nose out of trouble. But did your master heed it? No. Look where it got him. I expect he died for his convictions. And it probably was Wada who killed him. It’s usually Wada who arranges deaths. A very efficient man who seems untroubled by the sort of scruples you and your master labor under.”
Tora clenched his fists. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “I won’t believe it till I see his body.”
Ogata said nothing. He sat hunched, his many chins resting on his chest.
Tora frowned. “And what makes you call him my master?”
The doctor gave him a pitying glance and shook his head.
“You’re not his brother or his son. The only other relationship strong enough to send one man off to risk his life for another is that between a nobleman and his retainer. I think the man who claimed to be Taketsuna was taken to one of the mines. I expect by now his body is in an abandoned mine shaft, covered with a heap of rubble. You’ll never find him. You’re a good fellow, Tora, and I’m truly sorry about your master, but there’s nothing you can do here except die. Go home. And take Little Flower with you. She’s a nice girl who needs someone to look after her and she likes you.”
This time Tora did not stop the physician, and Ogata staggered to his feet and departed, weaving an uncertain course among the guests who waved and called out to him or touched his hand as he passed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kita, the mine supervisor, stood above Akitada, studying him with a frown of concentration. The small bright eyes moved from face to body, pausing at the injured knee, and then returned. They locked eyes. Kita’s were cold and beady. The eyes of the predator, thought Akitada, the eyes of the
Akitada wondered if Kita also recognized him. Apparently not, for the supervisor grunted and said, “Not much to look at, is he? Thought he’d be younger, in better condition.” It was very unpleasant to be talked about as if one were no more than an animal, but Akitada kept his face stiff and waited for the guard’s response.
The guard said, “He’s been inside the whole time. Sick as a dog. Since the day the boss brought him.” Kita pursed his lips and came to a decision. “Put him to work in the mine.”
Akitada’s eyes flew to the mine entrance, where an exhausted and choking creature dumped his load and crept back in when a guard’s whip was raised. He felt such a violent revulsion against returning to the darkness in the bowels of the earth that he thought he would rather die here and now than go back.
“He can’t walk yet,” said the guard dubiously.
“Then put him to work over there till he can,” Kita said, pointing to the men who were pulverizing rock near the sluice.
