Her sobs subsided a little and she nodded.
“There, you see. He is a very healthy, strong child. I’m surprised you would allow a fortune-teller to upset you so much.”
She sat up a little and wiped her face with a sleeve. “It wasn’t just the fortune-teller. I had a dream,” she said brokenly. “Not once, but several times. The first time I dreamt you and I were in mourning clothes. It was nighttime at Toribeno. There was a pyre and the flames were licking upward. I woke up weeping.”
Akitada could imagine how vivid that nightmare had been. They had attended two funerals together: his mother’s and her father’s. He said soothingly, “I am sorry, my dear, but you are fearful for Yori and that has brought back memories of your father’s death.”
She shook her head. “No. There were two more dreams. I was back at Toribeno, but I was alone. I went to place the familiar things into the coffin and to offer a final meal. But when I looked I had Yori’s sword in my hand, the wooden one you bought for him, and his favorite jacket, and… and a tray of jam-filled cakes.” She buried her face against him again and began to weep anew. Akitada held her, miserable that he did not know how to help her. They sat there, she weeping her heart out and he glumly contemplating the troubles which seemed to have befallen his family.
Much later, she detached herself and said in an almost normal tone, “After dreaming for the third time, I sent for the fortune-teller. I hoped he would tell me my dream meant something else. But he merely looked sad, muttered the words about the black cloud, offered some condolence, and left. Oh, Akitada, I’m so afraid.”
Feeling a great sense of pity, Akitada got up and extended a hand to her. “Come. You’re overtired. We will go to your room and see what’s to be done.”
She clutched at his hand and got to her feet. “Then you do think it will come true?” she cried, eyes widening with new panic.
Akitada put an arm around her. “No, I do not,” he said firmly, walking her toward her room. “I think your fears have destroyed your peace of mind and I’m anxious to have my normal, sensible, cheerful wife back.” He looked to see if that had raised a smile or word of acknowledgment, but she detached herself abruptly and said bitterly, “I must seem a dreadful burden to you.”
He sighed inwardly. “No more than I am a burden to you, my dear. We are husband and wife, after all. It’s proper that we should care about each other.” It occurred to him that Tamako had not shown the slightest interest in his troubles for a long time now, but he put the thought aside.
She paused at the door to her room and brushed a limp hand over her forehead. “I have a headache,” she said dully. “Perhaps I’d better try to rest. Thank you for your concern. You must have many other things on your mind.” Without looking at him, she disappeared inside, closing the door gently but firmly in his face.
So that was that. For a moment he had felt close to his wife again, and the idea of first sharing their worries and then perhaps her bed had been on his mind, but it was not to be. Disappointed, he went to his study. He felt utterly alone and neglected. Seimei brought him some tea, and Akitada was ridiculously grateful for the small gesture.
“I’m very worried about Tora,” he confessed to Seimei. “It’s not like him to stay away so long. I think I must go to Kobe and ask if the police have any news.” He did not add that if they did it would be bad.
Seimei understood and said, “Surely the superintendent would have informed you.” But instead of commenting as usual on Tora’s indestructible good luck, he murmured something about distressing times.
Akitada thought of his last meeting with Kobe. “The trouble is, I’m afraid I have offended the good superintendent.”
This disconcerted Seimei. “How is that possible? You have always had great respect for him.”
“I did. I do. It was all a misunderstanding.” How little his proud memorial mattered now.
“In that case, you should certainly clear up the matter immediately,” Seimei said firmly. “Remember, a man’s actions will return to him.”
Akitada sighed. He had only just got home and was tired, and the prospect of making an apology was very unpleasant. But he got to his feet obediently. “You’re quite right, as always. I’d better go now before he leaves for the day.”
The sun was setting over another hot, dry day. As Akitada crossed the Greater Palace grounds, a golden haze of dust hung over the curved roofs and mottled the green of the trees. At this hour the palace streets were usually crowded with officials and clerks on their way home, but not today. There was some activity around the emperor’s and the crown prince’s residential compounds, but this was mostly an increased presence of guards. Few officials walked between offices, and in the Shingon Temple a prayer service was being held. The Greater Palace was so quiet it made Akitada think that the government took no notice of the troubled city beyond its gates.
The atmosphere was very different at police headquarters. Here the courtyard bustled with red-coated constables and police officers, and small groups of unsavory-looking men stood about chatting. Akitada stopped a harried young policeman who took him to the superintendent. Kobe was in a large hall, bent over a table covered with papers and maps. Lower-ranking officers sat at desks, reading documents or writing reports as constables carried messages or stacks of documents between them. Kobe did not look up when Akitada reached his side. He asked impatiently, “Yes, what is it now?”
Not an auspicious start. Akitada cleared his throat apologetically. “I’m sorry to interrupt when you’re so busy, but I need some assistance.”
Kobe raised a drawn face, grimacing when he saw who it was. “You and the rest of the world. Is your need greater than theirs?” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm, encompassing the room with its policemen, piles of documents, sheets of city maps, rosters of staff, and assorted unidentifiable matter.
“Er… has something happened?”
Kobe glared. “Yes, something has happened all right. There are people dying in this city at a rate which is beyond the wardens, the police, or the monks. If you cast a glance out the door toward Toribeno, you’ll see the thick clouds of smoke from the cremation fires. They are burning day and night now. And in the poorer quarters, people just toss their dead into the street. The houses of the sick and dying are an open invitation to thieves, and robbers are attacking people brazenly, knowing that the wardens don’t have enough people to stop them. We have five new murders. The markets are empty because farmers no longer come to sell their produce, and people are going without food. Tomorrow I’m supposed to supervise the distribution of rice to the hungry, but I don’t have enough men to prevent a riot. Now, what is your problem?”
Akitada was aghast. “But how can this be? It was only yesterday that the Grand Council gave its first public notice of an epidemic. How can the situation have turned desperate so quickly?”
Kobe sneered, “You’ve been an official long enough to know that procrastination is a fine art in our government. They’ve known of the danger for weeks and done nothing, hoping it would go away or thinking to prevent a panic. And then their first action was to release more criminals into the streets of the city. My own troubles started with the amnesty. But I really don’t have time to discuss it. You may wish to compose another memorial to the emperor on the subject of inadequate law enforcement during epidemics. And be sure to mention that general amnesties are counterproductive in times of crisis.”
Akitada flushed. “I owe you an apology. Believe me, the memorial was not intended to criticize but to give you additional support. In any case, I tore it up when I saw that it might be misinterpreted.”
Kobe shook his head, his eyes cold. “It doesn’t matter in the least. I really cannot take the time now for an exchange of civilities.”
Akitada knew then that he had lost a friend. He made himself meet those hostile eyes. “Yes. I can see that I came at the wrong time.” He hesitated, then gave up, defeated by the other man’s implacable face. “It was just that I was worried about Tora, but never mind.” He turned to go.
“What about Tora?” snapped Kobe.
Akitada paused. “He left three days ago to investigate the murder of the blind woman and never returned. It’s not like him to be gone so long without sending word. I’m afraid something’s happened to him and wondered if you had any news.”
Kobe frowned. “No, no news. He came here that day, I think. Wanting to speak to Ihara. Perhaps he told him what he planned to do.”
“Yes, he might have done that.”
“You haven’t seen him since?” When Akitada shook his head, Kobe clapped his hands. The harried young policeman responded. “Call Ihara,” Kobe ordered.
