The Fires of the Gods sa-8 Read online

  And that, of course, explained why the young acolyte looked no different from any other boy. Akitada was not sure if he liked the abbot’s story. It might be true that Shokan, being cut off from the world, had taken a fatherly interest in a poor child and furthered his education, and that the boy had been tempted by the livelier world outside the monastery. It was equally possible that the boy had been forced into a sexual relationship he had no taste for and had run away. But he could not ask these questions and therefore focused on something else. ‘Are you certain that the woman was really his mother?’

  Shokan said quickly, ‘No. I wondered many times, but the boy claimed she was.’

  ‘And you really have no idea where I might find her?’

  ‘None. I never saw her again after I paid her, and the monk I sent to look for her said she had disappeared. I confess I did not look very hard for her.’

  ‘Are you aware of any connection between the boy or his mother with the Kiyowara family?’

  ‘Kiyowara? No.’

  Akitada, doubting Shokan’s memory, said, ‘Kiyowara was the Junior Controller of the Right. He was murdered a few days ago.’

  Shokan blinked. ‘Really? I take little interest in worldly matters. Kiyowara? He must be one of the new men. There is too much violence. We live in the latter days of our faith. What makes you think Kansei had any connection with the man?’

  ‘He bears a rather striking resemblance to the young Kiyowara heir. Could he be the murdered man’s son?’

  Shokan looked astonished and then a little excited. ‘I have no reason to think so, but I always felt that he was an unusual child. It surely would make this an extraordinary story.’

  Stranger things had happened, Akitada thought, but he decided that he must ask another man about this. He took back the amulet, promised to keep Shokan informed about the boy’s fate, and left.

  As he walked back to get his horse, it occurred to him that he might as well talk to the monk who had come to his house. He had surprised him with his disapproval of the acolyte and the abbot’s concern. He looked around and saw a group of small boys sitting under a pine tree. They were peering at a small bamboo cage.

  Akitada joined them and admired the large, fierce-looking cricket inside. With the ease of upper-class children, they instantly included him in their discussion.

  ‘Maro caught him. We’re going to catch another and make them fight,’ said one.

  ‘He’ll be a vicious fighter,’ said another.

  Their ages ranged between five and nine years. Maro was an older boy, but it was the youngest who was most impressed with the insect’s viciousness. The child was very much as Yori had been before his death. The pain of that memory was still sharp, but Akitada reminded himself of the little girl at home. Would she catch crickets some day? Perhaps not. Girls were more likely to collect fireflies. After an exchange of a few observations on crickets and other small creatures, he asked, ‘Would one of you know where I might find Saishin?’

  They looked at each other and made faces. Maro got up reluctantly. ‘I’ll take you, sir,’ he offered.

  ‘Thank you. That’s very good of you,’ Akitada told him. They started across the monastery compound. ‘Do you by any chance remember the boy Kansei?’

  Maro nodded. ‘He was one of the big boys. He was very disobedient,’ he said, ‘but His Reverence liked him, so he got away with it.’ He sounded matter-of-fact and a little envious.

  ‘Ah. What sorts of things did he do?’

  ‘Well, he ran away a lot. And then the monks would have to go search for him and that made them cross.’ Maro grinned. ‘And he didn’t do his sutra readings. And he’d go into the woods with a bow and arrow and shoot birds and things. The monks said he’d come to no good.’

  ‘And Saishin? He didn’t like Kansei much either, did he?’

  ‘Oh, Saishin hated him. We think it’s because His Reverence liked Kansei the most, even though Saishin is the best monk we have.’

  ‘The best? Really?’

  The boy nodded. ‘Oh, yes. He performs more austerities than anyone, and he’s forever praying. See? There he is now.’ Maro stopped and pointed at the dark figure of a monk seated outside one of the temple halls. Saishin was in meditation pose, his hands on his knees, his eyes closed.

  Maro said in a whisper, ‘I’ll leave you then, sir,’ bowed, and ran off at top speed.

  Akitada decided that the boys had liked Kansei. There had been that small note of admiration in Maro’s tone when he had mentioned Kansei’s disobedience. They did not like Saishin.

  Akitada approached the seated monk. The sound of his steps crunching the gravel did nothing to interrupt his meditation. Akitada was forced to clear his throat.

  The hooded eyes opened slowly and looked at him. Saishin’s expression did not change.

  ‘You may recall coming to my house not long ago,’ Akitada said.

  After a disconcertingly long moment, Saishin nodded. ‘I remember.’

  ‘It occurred to me that you might have some information that would help us find the lost boy.’

  ‘It is not likely.’

  ‘Was it you who saw Kansei with some other youths in the market?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Akitada snapped, ‘Look, His Reverence wants the boy found. The least you can do is make an effort. Do you want me to go back and tell him you refused to answer my questions?’

  Saishin did not react to this threat. He said in the same flat tone, ‘That would be a lie.’

  ‘You don’t want him found and returned to the monastery. Am I right?’

  This time the pause was even longer. Saishin blinked and said, ‘It would be better for the monastery if he did not return.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He doesn’t belong.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. He’s been living here since he was five years old.’

  ‘He doesn’t belong.’

  ‘You mean he wouldn’t make a good monk?’

  ‘That, too.’

  Akitada bit his lip. ‘Can you at least describe the boys you saw with him?’

  Saishin frowned. ‘Scum. Criminals. Sometimes there were only two, sometimes five or six. They were his age, but bad. They had knives and the scars from knife fights. Devil’s spawn, all of them.’

  ‘No doubt,’ Akitada said dryly. ‘Do I take it that you kept a regular watch on the market area in order to keep the abbot informed about Kansei’s company?’

  Saishin flushed. ‘I may have combined other errands with keeping an eye on one of our acolytes.’

  And that meant that Saishin had done his best to blacken the boy’s reputation with the abbot. It might be immaterial, but Akitada kept it in mind.

  ‘What about the boy’s mother. Do you know where she lives?’

  ‘No. His Reverence asked me to find her, but she had moved away.’

  Akitada gave up and got his horse.

  At home, Trouble greeted him with the usual exuberance, but Genba and Seimei had their heads together studying a piece of paper.

  Akitada dismounted and waited for Genba to take his horse to the stable. ‘Where’s Tora?’ he asked, looking around.

  ‘Tora got tired of sitting around so he offered to go to run an errand for cook,’ Genba said. ‘He’ll be back soon.’

  Seimei still stood with the piece of paper in his hand. ‘What is it?’ Akitada asked. ‘Did someone bring a message?’

  Seimei came and said, ‘After a fashion, sir.’ He held out the scrap of paper. It was dirty and crumpled, and Akitada hesitated to take it. ‘It was wrapped about a large stone and thrown over the back wall,’ Seimei explained.

  Akitada took it and smoothed it out. The writing was in a good hand. It said, ‘Beware of fire.’

  THE GRATITUDE OF RATS

  Tora carried the shopping basket over his good arm, but his true errand did not involve shopping. The rain had let up, but the streets were muddy. Apart from some puddle-jumping urchins, people seemed to slink ab
out like half-drowned rats.

  The market was closed today, and he found Jirokichi’s girl-friend in a nearly empty wine shop, listlessly sweeping the dirt floor. She stopped when she saw Tora and looked him over. ‘I thought you were at death’s door,’ she said. ‘Your fine friends lie a lot.’

  ‘My fine friends never lie, though they may worry more than need be.’ Tora did not sit down and had no smile for Hoshina. ‘I want to see Jirokichi now,’ he said.

  She did not refuse him, but glanced at the lone customer in the corner. ‘I can’t leave,’ she said.

  ‘Then tell me where he is.’

  ‘He’s much worse off than you are,’ she said.

  Tora just gave her a stare. ‘I don’t care. I want to see him.’ He raised his voice. ‘Now!’

  She turned away and went over to the customer. ‘Sorry, Jinzaemon,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to lock up. Come back tomorrow, please.’

  The man was elderly and timid. He got up obediently and shuffled out. Hoshina locked and barred the door. Then she filled an earthenware pot with the stew that remained and took the empty cauldron outside.

  Tora waited impatiently. When she returned with the clean cauldron, she set the rest of the shop to rights, then placed the earthenware pot in Tora’s basket and told him to follow her.

  To his surprise, Hoshina took him to the other side of the capital where affluent and law-abiding people lived. There in the Seventh Ward, they entered a substantial house of the type normally occupied by minor officials or clerks working for the government. Tora doubted that her wine shop earned enough to support this lifestyle and gained a new respect for Jirokichi’s abilities as a thief.

  Hoshina called out, ‘I’m home. I’ve brought Tora.’

  Jirokichi’s voice came from the back of the house. ‘You’re early. Did you say you brought Tora?’

  Hoshina turned from the flagstoned hallway into a kitchen, where she deposited the stew pot and Tora’s basket. ‘Come,’ she said.

  Jirokichi reclined near the open veranda door of the main room. He was leaning on an armrest and had a quilt across his lap. His face was turned towards them, but hard to see against the watery light coming from outside.

  Tora’s eyes went past him to an extraordinary garden, now glistening with moisture from the recent rain. Lush green cabbages grew next to a patch of healthy onions; cucumbers and beans climbed up a bamboo trellis; and enormous mounds of leaves cradled golden melons. Among all that bounty pecked some chickens, and two fat ducks poked their heads out of a bamboo cage.

  Jirokichi laughed at Tora’s amazement, ‘Welcome to my humble abode, my hero. Hoshina and I are just a pair of humble farmers. How are you?’

  Tora, seeing him lounging at his ease, scowled. ‘Alive, no thanks to you, Rat.’ But now he saw the effects of the vicious beating on Jirokichi’s face. His nose and mouth were heavily scabbed and swollen, one eye was still closed and black, and his body bore colorful bruises wherever his skin was bare. He moved only with difficulty and grimaced at the slightest change in position. Tora sat down and softened his tone. ‘And how goes it with you?’

  Jirokichi gave him a lopsided grin. ‘It goes. It’ll be a while before I’ll be able to earn an honest gold piece again, but in time perhaps some slight activity will be possible.’

  Hoshina snapped, ‘No more activity for you. You’re retired.’

  Jirokichi winked at Tora. ‘She loves me. Can you believe it? And she thinks love gives her the right to mistreat me. Hoshina, my dove, some of the special wine for my friend.’

  Tora looked after her. Jirokichi was right. Hanae bossed him around much the same way Hoshina did Jirokichi. It was strange that women treated the men they loved like bad little boys.

  But he was here for a purpose, and the visit was long overdue. Reaching inside his shirt, he brought out a small package. He laid it down in front of Jirokichi. ‘Your gold. Count it.’

  Jirokichi pushed it back. ‘You shame me,’ he said. ‘I owe you my life. Twice.’

  Tora snapped, ‘I told you I don’t want your gold. I want to know about the fires.’

  Jirokichi looked away. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘And I’ll tell you. I pay my debts, and this one… Well, it could cost me my life, but I owe you that. Very probably the knowledge will cost you yours, so be sure you know what you ask for.’

  ‘How the devil can I know, if you won’t tell me?’

  Hoshina returned with wine and cups. ‘I brought home some of the bean stew. Do you want to eat?’

  Tora shook his head, but Jirokichi smacked his lips. ‘Your good bean stew? Excellent! Tora will eat when he tastes it. The beans are from our garden.’

  Hoshina left.

  ‘Well?’ said Tora, getting angry again.

  ‘Those boys, the ones that caught me?’

  ‘Yes, what about them?’

  ‘They’ve been working for a rich merchant in the Fifth Ward.’

  Suddenly, a vivid memory surfaced: a fat man huddled with some street kids. He stared at Jirokichi. ‘Watanabe?’

  Jirokichi looked offended. ‘You’ve known that all along? Then why bother me?’

  ‘I didn’t know I knew it. I saw him talking to some young rascals.’ Tora scowled and clenched his fists. ‘And that fat toad pretended to feel sorry for those poor bastards dying. Oh, he’ll be sorry for what he’s done.’

  Jirokichi looked nervous. ‘Better leave it be.’

  ‘You’re a great coward, Jirokichi. How did you find out?’

  Jirokichi fidgeted. ‘You won’t tell the police, will you?’

  ‘I have to.’

  Hoshina came in and set down three bowls of stew. She joined them. ‘You cannot do that, Tora,’ she said. ‘They’ll arrest Jirokichi.’

  Light dawned a second time. Tora grinned. ‘You mean you were breaking into Watanabe’s house when you found out?’

  They both nodded. Jirokichi raised his bowl and slurped noisily. ‘Hoshina,’ he mumbled, chewing, ‘you’re an artist. Eat, Tora. It’s delicious.’

  Tora sniffed his bowl cautiously, then tasted the soupy broth. It was good, but Jirokichi was clearly besotted with anything Hoshina did. He ate a little and said, ‘I hate to mention it, but Superintendent Kobe plans to question Hoshina. So it’s pretty well too late. Besides, I don’t know how to tell him about Watanabe without bringing up your name, but maybe I can make a deal.’

  They looked at each other. Jirokichi sighed. ‘Well, I’d made up my mind to tell you anyway. One night I was getting ready to help myself to some of Watanabe’s gold… For the poor, you know. Make sure the superintendent understands that it was for the poor.’

  Tora cast up his eyes. Of course.’

  ‘I was sitting on a beam right above his money chest when there was this loud pounding at the back door. Watanabe gets up and goes to answer it, cursing under his breath, and I creep into a corner of the roof to hide. He brings in three of the bastards – Takeo, Togo, and Chako. They want money from him for some work they’ve done.’

  Tora interrupted, ‘Was that the night they caught you?’

  Jirokichi raised his bowl and let the vegetables in the bottom drain into his mouth. ‘Yes. They saw me coming from the house. I thought I was dead, but the devils took their time.’

  ‘But you already knew someone was setting the fires.’

  Jirokichi heaved an aggrieved sigh. ‘Are you going to let me tell the story? Yes, I knew Takeo and those young devils were setting fires. Most of us in the business suspected. But it wasn’t just a lark. They were being paid. They bragged about it. Said they worked for those above the clouds and laughed like it was a joke. You know, the fires of the gods? Only, it wasn’t the gods they meant. And there I was, caught in the house of their employer. I tell you I was so scared I almost wet my pants. Anyway, Watanabe goes to open his money chest, giving me a good view of piles of gold and silver that would feed the whole western city for a year. He hands the scum a few gold pieces and tells them to be more careful ne
xt time. They leave, he goes back to bed, and I take off without touching his gold.’ Jirokichi made a face. ‘Only, in the rush to get away, I didn’t look where I was going, and the bastards caught me in the street outside.’

  Tora digested that. ‘Any idea why Watanabe wants to burn down businesses?’

  Jirokichi shook his head and eyed Tora’s half-filled bowl. ‘That money chest was full. Watanabe’s a money lender. I bet he’s working for one of the great lords.’ He suddenly looked angry. ‘That’s the way it is in the world. The nobles borrow ready cash for their expensive lifestyles from men like Watanabe in exchange for protecting them from the law. There’s no difference between that and a protection racket.’ He gestured to Tora’s bowl. ‘Are you going to finish that?’

  Tora was far enough removed from his own humble beginnings to be taken aback by Jirokichi’s comparison. ‘The great lords don’t burn down the city when they don’t get their money,’ he said sourly and pushed his bowl towards Jirokichi.

  Jirokichi flared up. ‘Hey, that wasn’t the gang’s doing. That was Watanabe and his hired boys.’ He seized Tora’s bowl and ate.

  ‘Maybe, but if your friend Koichi and his buddies are such good guys, why did they let those young devils escape?’

  Jirokichi put down his bowl. He looked glum. ‘Turns out Takeo’s Koichi’s son. Koichi’s a good man, but he’s a father. He hit Takeo hard for what he did to me, but he couldn’t let him be taken by the police.’

  ‘So Takeo’s still loose?’

  Jirokichi nodded glumly.

  Tora sneered. ‘Well, they caught his sister. She keeps company with a kid called Tojiro. What about him?’

  Jirokichi burped. ‘Don’t know him. Don’t keep up with the family except to nod to Koichi when I see him.’