Island of Exiles by I.J. Parker Page B

appeared.
    He was all smiles. The two clerks followed him, looking glum.
    Yutaka gestured and they knelt, bowing deeply.
    For a moment, Akitada feared his identity was known, but then Yutaka said, “These stupid louts wish to express their humble apologies for their mistake. They hope you will forgive them this time.”
    “Please,” Akitada said to the two clerks, “get up, both of you.
    Shijo-san
, there was no need for this. The mistake has been explained to me, and I assure you I am much better.”
    “That is good,” cried Yutaka. “Good and generous. Yes. Well, then.” He looked at the two clerks, who were still on their knees, and cried, “You heard, you lazy oafs. Up! Up! Back to work! And don’t make such a foolish mistake again or I’ll see that you get another beating.”
    Akitada winced. Yutaka had been rather unfair. They had merely responded to his cries for help. No wonder the big one, Genzo, gave Akitada a rather nasty look before he scurried out.
    They blamed him for their punishment.
     
    The day passed quietly. As a rule the documents Akitada worked on were of little interest to him, and he had fallen into a habit of copying mechanically while turning over in his mind the many puzzling events of the past days. Foremost among these was the death of Jisei. Who had beaten him to death?
    Ogata had mentioned a fight, but surely the prisoners would have been caught. Had it been done by the guards? Why? He was such a weak, inoffensive creature, and much too timid to make an escape attempt. Besides, he had counted on being released shortly. And that fat drunkard Ogata had almost certainly covered up the murder out of fear. That suggested that Jisei had been killed on someone’s orders. Had he seen something he should not have? Akitada remembered with a shiver how certain Jisei had been that he would be sent home. Who had promised him an early release? Akitada had taken it for a sort of merciful practicality because Jisei’s festering knees and arms made him useless for crawling about in silver mines, but there were laws against releasing prisoners before their sentences were served. And that left only an empty promise, a lie, which was never intended to be kept. The real intention all along must have been to kill him. Akitada decided that Jisei had known something with which he had bargained for his release and which had cost him his life.
    He was so preoccupied with Jisei’s murder that he almost overlooked an interesting item in the document he was working on. It concerned an institution called a “Public Valuables Office.” Apparently one of the earlier governors of Sadoshima had established a storehouse where people could deposit family treasures in exchange for ready money or rice. Later, say after a good harvest, they could redeem the items. Such places existed elsewhere in the country, but they were usually run by the larger temples and helped farmers buy their seed rice in the spring. He skimmed the pages for an explanation of government oversight in Sadoshima and found it in the fact that much of what was left in safekeeping seemed to be silver. Akitada recalled that some of the silver mining was in the hands of private families, Kumo’s for example. But most intriguing was the fact that the official currently in charge of the “Public Valuables Office” was none other than Yamada.
     
    After work that evening, Akitada went directly to the prison kitchen. Steam rose from one of the cookers in the large earthen stove, and the smell of food hung in the hot air. Masako, her back to him and dressed in her rough cotton cover and kerchief, was filling a bamboo carrier with steaming soup. A basket of empty bowls stood beside her. Except for her slender waist and a certain grace in her movements, she looked exactly like a peasant girl.
    “I came to help,” said Akitada.
    She turned, her face red and moist from the fire and the steam, and brushed away a strand of hair that had escaped from the