Текст книги "Island of Exiles "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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the Valuables Office?” he asked.

Yamada raised his head. His mud-streaked face and disor-

dered hair would have looked comical, if it had not been for his

tears. “I discovered a month ago that two bars of silver were not

what they were supposed to be. Masako and I have been trying

ever since to save the money to replace them. One has already

been purchased, but we shall not be in time to replace the sec-

ond one. Osawa was not supposed to visit until the end of the

month, and I would have received my salary by then, as well as

Masako’s pay for prison maintenance. It was enough to make up

another bar. Now it is all for nothing.”

“What do you mean, ‘two bars were not what they were sup-

posed to be’?”

“I accidentally dropped one of them and it broke. It was only

clay covered with a thin layer of silver foil. I frantically checked and found another one. Now it will be thought that I made the

substitution. They will say I stole the silver to equip my son, who I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

99

is an officer with the northern army. But that is not so. I sold

everything we owned to do that. Then I started this garden and

dismissed all my servants. We were so poor when I discovered

what had happened to the silver that I could not make good the

loss. I was desperate, but Masako thought we might save and

earn some extra money and put the silver back before the annual

inspection. She took over the duties of the kitchen staff for the

prison. I was against it, because it would ruin her reputation. But she argued that my disgrace would also ruin her, and this way we

might salvage a great deal, particularly my son’s career. And now,

poor child, she has suffered to no purpose.” Yamada fell to weep-

ing again, the tears leaving wet tracks on his dirt-smudged

cheeks. Akitada’s heart went out to him and to the girl who had

borne her hardship without complaint.

“But,” he said, still mystified, “why didn’t you arrest the per-

son who deposited the fake bars?”

Yamada’s misery deepened. “I couldn’t,” he whispered. “No

record.”

“The thief gave a false name?”

“I wouldn’t know. There was a small fire. It destroyed a

ledger.”

“Good heavens! Are you the only one who takes care of the

Valuables Office?”

“I used to have a clerk, but had to let him go. I discovered

the clay bars when I checked the stored goods against my own

records after the fire. I was trying to piece together some sort of documentation from the charred remnants of the ledgers.”

Akitada mentally raised his brows that Yamada had

not checked deposits regularly before but only said, “The gover-

nor has given me permission to help you get ready for the

inspection.”

“Very kind of him,” muttered Yamada, “but it won’t do any

good. I might as well go to him now and confess the whole

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thing. I will be dismissed, of course, but the worst part is the

dishonor. It will ruin my son’s career and Masako’s prospects of

marriage.” He brushed fresh tears from his face and rose.

Akitada caught his sleeve. “Wait!”

“Oh, I forgot.” Yamada turned, his expression, if anything,

more dismal than before. “Masako must be told. Would you do

it?” He raised his hands in a pathetic gesture of entreaty. “I don’t have the belly for it.”

The thought of facing Masako with this bit of news daunted

Akitada also. “Don’t give up yet,” he urged. “Perhaps we can buy

some time. Could I have a look at the Valuables Office?”

In spite of Yamada’s distress, he looked shocked. “There are

rules against allowing people into the storage area,” he said.

“And you being a prisoner—well, I don’t think—”

“In that case,” said Akitada, “I don’t see how I can help you.

But surely if you are with me, an exception might be made?”

Yamada hesitated. “Why do you want to see it?”

“To get an idea how the theft was done and perhaps find

the thief.”

“It could be anyone. I told you, the records are gone.”

But Yamada’s fear was so great that he took Akitada across

the compound to a small building in the far corner.

The Valuables Office had been fitted into the outer wall so

that its front faced out into the main street, where it was acces-

sible to merchants and farmers, while the rest of the building

was within the walls of the guarded compound. Apart from the

front, its plaster walls were windowless and it had only one

rear door.

Yamada and Akitada entered through this back door, which

Yamada unlocked with a set of keys he carried. He lit a lantern that stood on a shelf beside the doorway. By its light, Akitada could

make out rows of shelving filled with all sorts of objects. In one

corner was an iron-bound chest for money and many bags of

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101

rice. Silver and copper coins were a more practical form of ten-

der, but less common than the ubiquitous rice as a medium of

exchange.

Yamada passed through this room and unlocked a second

door, which led into the front area where business was trans-

acted. Here some light filtered in through high and narrow

paper-covered windows. The walls still bore traces of smoke

damage. From outside they could hear the voices of passersby

and the sounds of wheels and horses’ hooves.

“We only open for business on the first and tenth day of

each month,” explained Yamada.

Against the back wall stood shelves which held scales for

weighing precious metals, an abacus, various writing tools, can-

dle holders, and ledgers. Both the front door and the heavy door

they had just passed through were protected by metal locks and

a series of iron bands and studs.

“Who, besides you, has keys to this place?” asked Akitada,

walking over to the new-looking ledgers and turning the pages

idly.

“Nobody.”

“Not even the clerk who used to work here?”

“Certainly not. I did not trust him. He drank and made

careless mistakes.”

“And where do you keep your keys when you don’t carry

them?

Yamada frowned at this interrogation. “With me at all times.

Why? The torch was thrown in from the street. Nobody broke in

or unlocked any doors.”

Akitada turned to look at Yamada in surprise. “A torch was

thrown from the street? Why?”

Yamada shook his head. “Who knows? There are too many

criminals on this island. The fire was put out quickly, and we

did not pursue the matter when we found the deposits safe

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behind their locked doors. The only loss was one ledger and a

broken window screen. We moved the shelves against the back

wall after that, and I copied what information I could gather

from the charred ledger.”

Akitada nodded and studied the entries. “You wrote all this?

I see you loaned five strings of cash on five bars of silver. Is that the going rate?”

“It’s generous but not unusual. If the person is known to us

and reliable, as much as a thousand copper cash or fifty sho of rice are advanced for one bar of silver. About half its value.”

Akitada whistled. “So two bars would have got a man enough

to feed himself for a year. Let’s have a look at your treasures.”

“Is this really necessary? If someone found out—”

“You would be no worse off.”

Yamada sighed and turned back into the storage room, tak-

ing the keys from his sash again to relock the door. Holding up

the lantern, he led the way to the shelves which filled an area two or three times the size of the front room.

Akitada saw that the shelves bore numbers, each number

corresponding with a deposit. He walked along picking up

this or that, while Yamada followed, watching nervously to

make sure he replaced it in its assigned spot. The goods con-

sisted of rolls of silk and brocade, lengths of cotton, various

art objects, books, musical instruments, swords, elegant uten-

sils in lacquer and inlaid metals, and numerous stacks of silver

bars. He thought of the death of the Second Prince and the

murder of little Jisei. Silver figured in both instances. The

prince’s plot, if indeed there had been one, would have been

financed with local silver, and the little convict had worked in

one of the mines.

“Here,” said Yamada, pointing to three silver bars in a corner

of one of the shelves. “These are the two clay ones. The third one

is the silver bar I purchased.”

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

103

Akitada took them up one by one. The first two seemed a lit-

tle lighter than the third, and he saw that a piece had broken off

one of these, revealing the red clay underneath. The second bar

showed clay beneath some scratches, no doubt made by Yamada

to verify that it, too, was counterfeit. Whoever had accepted

these bars was criminally negligent. The scales in the other

room would have revealed the problem instantly. “You said you

checked all the rest?” Akitada asked, looking around at the

many small piles of silver.

“Yes, I checked them all.”

“Hmm. Only two out of all of these. When did your clerk

leave?”

Yamada frowned. “It was before the fire. A very unreliable

person. I had to speak to him repeatedly about sleeping

during working hours, but after the fire I wished I had kept

him on.”

Akitada looked at another deposit. It was a large one, con-

sisting of some fifteen silver bars and various boxes. Noting a

small silk pouch, he picked it up. It was astonishingly heavy.

“That is raw gold,” Yamada said.

“Gold?” The contents felt lumpy. Akitada opened the bag

and saw small irregular chunks of the yellow metal inside. None

was larger than the average pebble. “Where did this come

from?” he asked.

“Sometimes a farmer or some youngster finds a piece in a

stream. Often they don’t know what it is and take it to a temple.”

“And you don’t know its owner either?”

“But I do. It belongs to the Kokubunji Temple. I remember

the little bag of gold. Silver bars are more common.”

“Yes. Hmm.” Akitada fell into deep thought, and Yamada

began to fidget with the keys and shuffle his feet. “Yes,” said

Akitada again, coming out of his reverie, “it might work. Here is

what we’ll do to catch our thief.”

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Yamada’s eyes grew round as he listened, and he shook his

head violently at first. But the more Akitada explained, the

more he came around, and finally he nodded reluctantly.

“Mind you,” warned Akitada, “you must tell the governor

what happened. Throw yourself on his mercy. I believe he is an

understanding man and will forgive you if you get the loan back

and arrest the thief.”

“But what about Masako? Do we tell her or not?”

Akitada wanted to say no, but the girl deserved to be told.

She had proven her devotion to her family and could be trusted

with the secret. Akitada feared that she might feel some obliga-

tion to him. “Tell her, but don’t mention me,” he advised.

Yamada shook his head. “No. I’m going to the governor now

before I lose my courage. You should know that I am a very bad

liar. Perhaps I may manage to claim credit for your idea with him,

but Masako would have the truth out of me in a minute. You had

better speak to her. Oh, dear! She’s at home, waiting for the veg-

etables. Would you mind taking them? I suppose people must eat.”

“You had better wash before you see the governor.”

Yamada looked at his hands and touched the drying mud on

his face. “Oh, dear!” he muttered and made for the door. Out-

side he stopped and came back to pull Akitada out with him

and relock the Valuables Office. Then he rushed off again.

Akitada followed more slowly, amused to see Yamada washing

himself at the kitchen well in order to avoid his daughter. He

went through the garden to pick up the basket of vegetables. In the entrance he set down the basket and kicked off his sandals before

stepping up on the wooden floor. There was no sign of Masako.

“Anyone home?” he called out.

“Yes.” Her voice came from the back, and he followed the

sound.

“It’s me,” he said loudly, faced with a hallway of closed

doors. One of the doors flew open, and Masako looked out.

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105

“Taketsuna?”

She was wearing the old scarf around her head, but her hair

had escaped and was slipping down her back and across one

cheek. Her face was hot and flushed, and she appeared to be

wearing a man’s cotton shirt over an old pair of trousers. There

was a smudge of dirt on her nose and one cheek. With her

eyes wide and her lips half opened, she had never looked more

desirable to Akitada, who stood transfixed.

“I did not expect you at this time of day. Is anything wrong?”

“No. I had a message for your father.”

“Oh.” She became aware of his eyes on her, brushed

helplessly at her hair and then wrapped her arms about her

middle, looking at the floor in mortification. “I’m ashamed

you caught me like this,” she murmured. “I was cleaning the

floor and—”

“You look beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

“Oh, no. Oh, I wish I were more like other women, with

their beautiful gowns and their elegant manners. I wish you . . .”

And she burst into tears.

Later he would find all sorts of excuses for what happened

next: having embarrassed her so deeply, he had to reassure

her—he merely wished to calm her so he could give her the

news—he was only offering her brotherly support.

None of these was true, of course. Akitada took the three

steps separating them and opened his arms because he had

wanted to hold her for a long time now, had wanted to feel

that lithe body against his, had wanted to comfort her with his

caresses and be caressed in turn.

Masako came to him with a small cry of joy, nestling against

him, murmuring endearments, and responding with a passion

which startled him into partial sanity. He loosened his embrace

and caught her hands on his bare chest where she had slipped

them under his robe.

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“No, Masako,” he pleaded. “Please don’t tempt me. Your cir-

cumstances are sufficiently improper without this.”

“I don’t care,” she cried. “I have wanted you to love me since

I first saw you. I don’t care about me. I don’t care about any-

thing but you.” She pulled him into the room, closed the door

behind them, and drew him down onto the matting, tugging

feverishly at his sash.

Kneeling above her, he caught her hands again. “No,

Masako,” he said, “I cannot take a wife, and you must save your-

self for a husband.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Save myself? Don’t be ridiculous.

I’m not a woman of your class.” She flushed. “Besides, it’s too

late to worry about that.” When he still hesitated, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh. You do find me disgusting.”

“No,” he cried. “You are beautiful. I want you. More than any-

thing, but . . .” Weakening, filled with desire, he released her hands.

She reached for his face, bringing it so close to her own that

he could taste her breath as she whispered, “Prove it, then.” Her

breath was so sweet that he tasted her lips with his own and

was lost.

Afterward, as they lay together, he cradling her nude body in

his arms, she with her eyes closed and a smile curving her lips,

he said in wonder, “I came to speak to you about your father’s

problem and now I do not know how to face him.”

“Father’s problem?” She sat up and looked at him through

narrowed eyes. “Tell me.”

It was difficult to concentrate. She had a lovely and utterly

desirable body. “I am sorry, Masako,” he said, touching a long

tress of hair and following it across one breast and down her

small, flat belly. “I should not have done that.”

She shivered at his touch, but caught his hand with hers.

“What problem?” she demanded.

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107

He told her about the inspection. She paled and reached for

her trousers. Putting them on and then slipping on the shirt, she

asked, “Does this mean that the shortage is known?”

He marveled at her. One moment she was all passionate

seductive female, and the next as levelheaded and businesslike

as any man. He said, “No, your father has a plan and, with the

governor’s approval, we shall put it into operation tonight.”

Reaching for her scarf, she cried, “Oh, no. The governor

must not know. I hope Father has not had another urge to bare

his soul.” She twisted her hair up and tied it quickly under the

scarf. Akitada admired the way her breasts strained against the

thin fabric of her shirt. Starting toward the door, she said, “I

must talk to him immediately.”

“Too late. He has already left to discuss the matter with His

Excellency.”

She turned with a wail. “Oh, no. Then all is lost. How could

you let him do such a stupid thing?”

“Because,” he said, getting to his feet and rearranging his

own clothes, “I will not take part in an illegal act even if it is to catch a thief. And what we plan is against the law unless it has

the approval of the governor.”

“What?” She suddenly looked furiously angry. “So! I see it was

your idea. To catch a thief according to the letter of the law, you will ruin my family. And you a convict yourself! What sort of man

are you? Did you trade my father’s honor for your freedom?”

He flinched and tried to mend things. “You misunderstand.

What we have in mind will clear your father and allow you to

return to a normal life. And your father will receive the credit

for the capture of the thief.”

After a moment, she asked suspiciously, “What is this plan?”

He told her and watched her face begin to relax and her eyes

to shine with excitement. “It might work. Very well, let’s get

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started right away. You and I can move the goods here, and then,

after dark, we’ll make a hole in the outside wall.”

“That will not be necessary, Masako. A torn paper covering

on one of the windows, a broken lock, and an abandoned iron

bar, and it will look convincing enough.”

She nodded after a moment. “Yes. You’re right. Less damage

is easier to fix.” That settled, she became suspicious again. “How

did you find out about the silver bars?”

“It’s a bit complicated.”

Her eyes narrowed. She folded her arms across her chest.

“Never mind! I want to know.”

“Well, I wondered what would cast a family like yours into

such abject poverty that you had to work like this.” He gestured

at her clothing. She blushed, ripping off the unflattering cotton

scarf so that her glossy long hair fell freely about her shoulders

again. His fingers yearned to touch it, but he continued, “At first I wondered if either your father or your brother was a gambler,

but then you said the hard times would soon be over. Since

gamblers don’t change their habits, it occurred to me that some

other costly mishap had befallen your father. Then I found out

about his stewardship of the Valuables Office. Your reaction

when I asked you about it proved that I had guessed correctly.

Your father admitted the rest a short while ago when I told him

about the inspection. That was all.”

“Very clever. Do you always pry into other people’s affairs?”

“Yes,” he said quite seriously.

She chuckled, thinking he had joked. “Oh, very well. But

don’t try to tell me that this was Father’s idea. He is a dear man

and a most honest official, but he has never been devious.”

◆

The trap was set during the night. Having made the necessary

arrangements, Akitada returned to his room for a few hours’

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

109

rest. Masako had laid out his bedding, and he took off his robe

and got under the quilts. A moment later, his door opened qui-

etly, and she slipped in and joined him. He wished she had not

come, but when he felt her naked body searching with eager

passion for his embrace, he gave in.

Very early the following morning, notices appeared all over

town. The notices read:

To t h e pe o p l e o f Sa d o s h i m a

Robbers and thieves have broken into the Valuables Office.

I, the governor, order all those who have made deposits to

appear in person with their receipts to identify their property

or receive compensation for their loss. It is the duty of all

citizens to report any knowledge of the criminals.

These orders must be obeyed.

A noisy crowd gathered in front of the message board out-

side the gates to the tribunal, and within minutes a short line

had formed at the door to the Valuables Office. Two guards

stood watch outside. People chattered excitedly, pointing up at

the broken window. Inside Yamada and Akitada had been

joined by the governor.

Yamada stood on a small cask and peered through the torn

paper down at the waiting people.

“Do you recognize anyone?” the governor asked.

“No, but it’s still early.”

“Yes,” said Akitada, “if he isn’t here yet, he will be. He’s a

greedy man who expects to collect two bars of real silver in

exchange for two of clay, and without having to worry that the

theft will ever be laid at his door.”

The governor muttered, “Perhaps. But this is most incon-

venient. You were supposed to leave right after the inspection

today. Now we have to wait another day. I cannot imagine what

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made you so careless, Yamada. You should have inspected all the

silver daily.”

Yamada stepped down from his cask and hung his head. “I am

most sorry, Excellency. I wish you would accept my resignation.”

Mutobe waved the offer away irritably. “I told you, I cannot

spare you. At least you thought of a way to rectify your careless-

ness—even if, as the saying goes, we are twisting a straw rope

after the thief has escaped. Still, if you catch the man, we will say no more about it. Well, I must be off. Taketsuna can help you

interview the claimants. If nothing else, you will be able to

confirm ownership that way.”

When the governor had left, Akitada said encouragingly,

“There. I told you it would be all right. Now let us get busy

twisting that rope. We’ll tie that thief up yet.” He opened the

door and admitted the first claimant.

By midday they had interviewed nearly fifty people and

produced two hundred bars of silver and assorted other items

of value demanded by their nervous owners. Seeing their prop-

erty safe, most claimants decided to leave it on deposit. Yamada

was able to update and correct his ledgers. Of course, no one

had any information about the robbers, although one old man

attempted to trade information for wine. The old-timer told a

rambling story about a man in his quarter who had been brag-

ging only that morning about a sudden windfall. The windfall

turned out to be no more than some fifty or a hundred coppers,

and they more than likely had been earned by his wife, who was

a potter. They refused the old-timer’s offer and sent him away in

disgust.

Yamada fell to brooding, and Akitada did not feel much

more cheerful. Why had the thief not come or sent an associate?

From the beginning, Akitada had suspected the former clerk.

The clay bars differed in weight from the real thing and anyone

accustomed to handling silver bars would have known they

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111

were a sham. In fact, they should have been weighed. Short of

Yamada himself, the clerk was the only other person who could

have accomplished the fraud. But there was no proof until he

claimed the two bars of silver, and this he would hardly do in

person. No, he would send someone else. As Akitada considered

the matter of a likely accomplice, a memory stirred, and he

turned to Yamada. “Do you suppose the man whose wife makes

pottery could be involved after all?”

Yamada shook his head despondently. Outside a cart rum-

bled past. The guard posted at the door yawned loudly. It was

almost closing time.

“We have failed,” Yamada said.

“Perhaps our man is out of town and did not hear of the no-

tice,” Akitada offered, but he did not really believe it himself.

“It was kind of you to try to help,” Yamada muttered glumly,

“but I’m afraid it’s no good. I shall tender my resignation in the

morning.”

There was nothing Akitada could say. He was racked by guilt

over his affair with Masako, and his failure to solve Yamada’s

problem made him feel worse. It struck him that this matter was

trivial by comparison with his true assignment. If he could not

even catch a petty thief, how was he to succeed in his much

more complex and dangerous undertaking?

And now there was a new complication in his life. In a mo-

ment of weakness, he had made Masako and her family his

responsibility. Many men of his class had several wives or concu-

bines, but he had hardly sufficient income for one wife and small

son. How could he maintain additional families? And he shud-

dered at the prospect of bringing Masako home with him. Quite

apart from the fact that such an act so soon after their marriage

and the birth of his son was a profound insult to his wife, the two women had little in common. Feeling wretched, he got up to put

away the ledgers and clean out his brush.

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But just then the guard outside hailed someone, then ush-

ered in a thin, dirty-looking man in his thirties.

The scrawny individual clutched a token and a bag of coins.

With a nervous glance at the guard, he sidled up to Yamada’s

desk. “It’s about my silver,” he said. “I’m a bit late, but I’m just back from a trip. The minute I got home, my neighbor comes

running and tells me to hurry over here. He says there was a

robbery and to bring my claim token. A poor man like me can’t

afford to lose his hard-earned savings. Two bars, it was.” He

extended the wooden token. “I brought the two strings of cash.”

He lifted the bag of coins.

Akitada took the token, recorded the name in his ledger, and

checked the date. Then he passed it to Yamada.

Yamada stared at the characters, then at the man. “Your

name, profession, and place of residence?”

“Tobe, Your Honor. I’m a vegetable farmer. Me and my wife

live in Takase.”

“Takase? Where is that?” asked Akitada, looking up from the

entries.

“It’s a village down the coast,” explained Yamada.

“When did you bring in the silver bars?” Akitada asked.

“I forget. It says on the token, doesn’t it?”

Yamada glanced again at the token. “I might have known the

drunken sot was too careless to weigh them,” he muttered in a

tone of outrage.

“What?” The thin man blinked. “It’s all proper and right,

isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Akitada said quickly. “But we have to check these

things. Anyone could claim two bars of silver with a stolen to-

ken. How did you come by that much silver as a farmer?”

The man shuffled and tried an ingratiating grin. “I work

hard and save my earnings.”

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

113

Yamada frowned. “Surely that is an extraordinary amount

to have saved at your age. I think we had better check to make

sure your claim is legitimate.”

The man paled. “It’s the truth,” he whined. “My wife and me,

we both work hard.”

Akitada said, “Hmm,” and gave him a sharp look. “Can you

bring any witnesses who saw you depositing two bars of sil-

ver here?”

Tobe looked panic-stricken. “I . . . I’ll be back tomorrow.

Give me back my token.”

“No. We’re getting to the bottom of this now,” said Yamada

with uncharacteristic firmness.

The man gasped a little. “It’s not urgent. I can wait,” he

cried, bowing and backing toward the door while clutching his

coins to his chest.

Yamada rose and called the guard when another man ran in

and collided with the retreating Tobe. It was the old drunk, con-

siderably more unsteady on his feet than earlier. He clutched at

Tobe for support, and for a moment the two swayed together

like an odd pair of lovers.

The drunk cried, “It’s you. Now I get my reward.” He wrapped

both arms around Tobe’s thin figure and announced, “He’s your

robber. Arrest him quick.”

The other man cursed and pushed the drunk away viciously.

The beggar hit the wall with a thud, and Tobe made a dash for

the door, where the guard caught him in mid-flight.

Akitada bent over the old drunk to help him up. “Are you

hurt, old man?” he asked.

The beggar felt his shoulder and ribs, started to shake his

head, then croaked, “I’m a bit dizzy. Could I have a drop of wine?”

“No more wine,” Akitada said firmly. “What’s this about a

reward?”

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“I was here before. Don’t you remember? That fellow’s

called Shiro. He’s the mat mender. He’s the one robbed the

Valuables Office. I want my reward.”

“You say his name’s Shiro and he lives right here in town?

Are you sure, old man?”

“Of course I’m sure. He lives in my quarter. His wife makes

clay pots and sells them on the market.”

“Aha!” Yamada eyed their claimant, still in the clutches of

the grinning guard, with grim satisfaction.

The man’s haggard face was covered with sweat. His eyes

moved about the room like a cornered animal’s. “I’m no robber.

I’m a respectable tradesman,” he protested. “And he’s only a

drunken beggar and he lies.”

“Tradesman? I thought you said you are a farmer,” Akitada

reminded him.

“Yes, and you also claimed to live in Takase,” Yamada put in.

When the man said nothing, Yamada told the guard, “Put him

down. Then close the door and wait outside. We may need you.”

The guard released his captive, saluted, and left, slamming

the door behind him. The sound caused their captive to start

trembling.

“Well, what is your name?” Yamada snapped.

“Shiro. I . . . I go by both names.” Their suspect started to

inch toward the door again. “If it’s too much trouble, I can

come back tomorrow,” he offered.

Akitada laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s no trouble at all. It must

be a great thing for a man to have a wife who helps him earn a

living. I suppose, being appreciative, you lend her a hand every

now and then, do you, Shiro?”

The man thought about this and decided to agree. “Of

course. I’m a considerate husband. I’m always carrying clay for

the little woman and taking her pots to the market.”

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

115

“And you help her fire her pots, no doubt? Perhaps even

shape a simple clay object yourself?”

The other man gulped. “N-no, n-not that. No.”

“Oh, well. Just a guess,” said Akitada. Picking up the token,

he disappeared into the storage area. When he reappeared, he

carried two silver bars. “Here you are.” He tossed the bars to

Shiro, who was so astonished that he was a bit slow catching

them. One bar fell and broke.

The man put the other one down on the desk as if it burned

his fingers. Perspiration beaded his face again. “There’s been

some m-mistake,” he mumbled. “These are not mine.”

The old drunk staggered over to stare at the broken pieces.

Picking up a shard, he squinted at the red clay inside the silver

foil. “Looks like your wife made this one,” he told Shiro. “Why