The Convict's Sword by I. J. Parker

reality.
    “Can I bring you some wine, sir?” Nakatoshi asked anxiously.
    “No.” Akitada ran a hand over his face as if brushing away cobwebs and took a deep breath. “Yes, perhaps. Thank you.” A cup of wine would put some warmth into his body, would thaw out the icy fury that seemed to paralyze his muscles and his brain. He walked stiffly around Soga’s desk and sat down. Outside, thunder growled again, and the pines in the courtyard tossed in the wind. A gust of air stirred the papers on the desk. He got up to close the shutters and lit the tall candlesticks.
    The correspondence. He looked through it. Apparently Soga had already removed anything he considered too important for Akitada’s eyes. The rest was routine. When Nakatoshi returned with the warm wine, Akitada gulped it thirstily, then told him to take dictation. For the next hour, Akitada dealt with the business of the ministry.
    “Is anyone waiting outside?” he asked, when the paperwork was done.
    “Nobody important. It’s time for the midday rice.”
    Akitada glanced at the closed shutters. He was not hungry. The sound of rain had been with them for a while now without his having noticed. And he had forgotten Tora. “One more letter,” he said. “It must be delivered immediately. Then I shall see the petitioners.”
    The letter was addressed to Kobe, superintendent of the capital police. He hated to ask the man for this favor, but his concern for Tora was too great. Besides, a request to transfer Tora from the Western to the Eastern Prison was not unreasonable since Tora resided in the eastern half of the capital. The problem was that Kobe would assume other concessions would be expected later.
    Then he had Nakatoshi show in the people who had waited patiently outside (some of them, as it turned out, for many months) to lay a problem before the minister of justice. He discovered that several had come bearing gifts, which he refused. The ones who had waited for months appeared too poor to curry the minister’s favor in this way. This was not surprising. Akitada had always known that Soga enriched himself in his office. Indeed, most officials considered it a perquisite of their posts. Also, not surprisingly, the ones with gifts rarely deserved consideration, while the poor fellows who had lingered for months in the waiting area seemed to have legitimate cause for review. With a sigh, Akitada took down their information and sent them away until their cases could be studied. The others he dismissed brusquely. Still, hours passed in this manner until it became difficult to read the documents, because darkness was creeping from the corners of the room.
    Impatiently, Akitada called for more lights. Nakatoshi came and threw open the shutters. The rain had stopped and it was clear again, but the sun had set and left behind a steamy dusk. Only now did Akitada become aware of the stiffness in his back and neck. He also realized that it was late and that he had done nothing about Tora.
    “How many more?” he asked Nakatoshi.
    “None, sir. And Sakae asks if he can leave.”
    “Dear heaven, I forgot all about him.” Akitada rose, stretching his painful legs and back. “Don’t tell me there is always this much business,” he said with a grimace.
    Nakatoshi grinned. “No, sir. A lot of stuff accumulated in His Excellency’s absence. Besides, he doesn’t see very many of the petitioners.”
    “I gathered that. There was one old man who had been here every day for the past three months.”
    “That would be Mr. Chikamura? The one who claims that his property has been taken by his nephew?”
    “His home actually. I cannot imagine where he lays his head. He seems afraid for his life if he sets foot in his own house. I told him we would look into the matter. Have one of the scribes check the property deeds and then send someone from the police to his home to see what is going on.”
    Akitada walked across to his own office, where he found Sakae pacing the