Akitada blinked. The baby was Genba. When he had last laid eyes on his third lieutenant, they had parted company outside the city. Genba had always been tall and broad. With his healthy appetite, he had gained weight rapidly after his lean years in the capital, but this clean-shaven mountain of rosy flesh looked nothing like the thick-haired, bearded man he had parted from.

A drumroll marked another match, but Akitada paid little attention to it. His eyes were on Genba, now seated again by his bundle of clothes, waiting for his next, and final turn. The winner of the remaining contests would face Genba for the top prize.

"Good heavens," muttered Akitada to Oyoshi. "You don't suppose Genba will win and be sent to the capital?"

"Certainly not," snapped a bald fellow near him. "Nobody beats Tsuneya. He rips out full-grown pines with his bare arms. He's from my village and I've seen him do this myself."

"Tsuneya's strong and he's a local boy, but he has no technique," cried a pockmarked man with a fierce mustache. "Genba will only have to use his foot to trip him, and when he's off balance, he'll push him across the ropes. I've seen him use that move and many others besides. He's a master at technique because he was a wrestling teacher in the capital."

"You know nothing, fool," cried the bald man, raising a fist, and shouts broke out all around. For a moment it looked as though a separate match would be fought in the crowd, but the whistle of the scorekeeper recalled attention to the official bout, and peace returned.

Akitada felt a touch on his sleeve. One of the young monks was bowing to him. "His Reverence asks the gentlemen to join him," he said.

Akitada glanced across the broad courtyard at the raised veranda of the main hall where Abbot Hokko was seated with other dignitaries before brilliant red silk hangings. The abbot looked back and smiled.

So much for remaining an anonymous observer. Not only had the curio dealer guessed who he was, but now Hokko had seen him and was about to display him to the crowd.

They followed the monk to a rear staircase and then walked to the front of the great veranda. Hokko gestured to two cushions. Akitada sat beside the abbot, and Oyoshi farther back. Mercifully, the crowd below seemed too preoccupied with the contest to pay attention.

"You must forgive me, Excellency," murmured the abbot. "I think you wished to remain unrecognized, but I have an urgent message for you."

Akitada was irritated. "Here and at this time?"

Hokko pointed down into the courtyard. "None better," he said. "All eyes are on the final match."

Below Genba had reentered the ring. His opponent stood already waiting. Akitada had never seen a human being of that size. He towered even over Genba by more than a head and he was all muscle.

"Is that the man they call Tsuneya?" Akitada asked, momentarily distracted.

"Yes. And he will win," remarked Hokko. "Still, his opponent, a stranger to me, has been very good, and that means nobody will pay attention to us."

Akitada resented Hokko's calm assurance about the outcome. He frowned and kept his eyes on the contestants who had begun to circle, crouching low, looking for an opening to grapple with the opponent or trip him. Genba's adversary was huge. Bulging muscles rippled across his back and shoulders as he moved. He was also quick and tricky. Akitada saw him dodge, feint, and seize Genba several times. But again and again Genba managed to break his hold or step aside to seek his own opening. It promised to be an extraordinary match.

The confrontation took on a symbolic relevance for Akitada that far exceeded a mere exercise of skill and sportsmanship. In his imagination, Tsuneya, the local champion, stood for the forces pitted against Akitada in this mysterious and hostile land; Genba, the outsider, was the champion of distant imperial authority. The outcome of the match would spell Akitada's success or failure.

"How can you be so sure Tsuneya will win?" he asked the abbot without taking his eyes off the wrestlers.

"I know the boy well. His mind is pure," said Hokko simply. Then he lowered his voice. "The message I have for you was given to me by an unimpeachable source, so you may rely on its accuracy. You are to guard against an attack on the tribunal tonight or early tomorrow morning."

Akitada tore his eyes from the contest just as Genba narrowly avoided being pushed across the rope in a mighty and roaring charge by his opponent. "What? Who sent this message?" he demanded angrily.

Hokko smiled and shook his head. "I cannot tell."

"Then the warning is worthless."

Hokko sighed. "You will be well advised to prepare a defense, or you and yours will be lost."

Akitada searched the other's face. How could he trust this man? A Buddhist abbot? His last experience with provincial clergy had taught him that pure evil could lurk behind the mask of saintliness. And why should he find an anonymous benefactor in a province where he had met with nothing but treachery? "How strong a force?" he asked.

Hokko responded with a question. "How many serve at Takata?"

Silence fell between them. Then Akitada nodded. "Thank you," he said. "I will take your advice."

"Look, over there is Captain Takesuke." The abbot pointed to a small group of officers watching from the eastern gallery. "He has been most accommodating in helping with crowd control today. A very useful young man when one needs to keep peace and order."

Akitada looked toward Takesuke, then at the abbot. Hokko nodded.

Thoughts racing, Akitada wondered about the size of the provincial guard and about the Uesugi forces. His information about the strength of either was sadly inadequate. The crisis he had feared was at hand, and he was unprepared. Dazedly he turned his eyes to the courtyard again.

In the ring, Genba feinted, ducked under Tsuneya's arms and grasped the waistband of his opponent's loincloth. He gave a mighty heave upward to lift Tsuneya off the ground, but the other man hooked a leg around Genba's thigh. The two contestants strained in the thin winter sun, their bodies locked together, steaming, their muscles bulging with effort.

And Akitada felt sick at his helplessness. He had brought them all to this: Genba, Tora, Hitomaro, and old Seimei. And worst of all: What was to become of Tamako and his unborn child?

The two wrestlers broke apart, and Akitada clung desperately to the hope that fate would be with them.

Hokko touched Akitada's sleeve. "I almost forgot. There was another part to the message. I am to tell you that the boy is safe."

Akitada blinked. He had forgotten the missing boy over his own danger. For a moment, he did not know what to say. When he found the words to ask about Toneo, a great roar went up from the crowd: "Tsuneya! Tsuneya! Tsuneya!"

Genba had lost the match.

SIXTEEN.

THE SHELL GAME.

I.

t was only late afternoon, but lanterns swaying from the rafters of the restaurant already cast a smoky golden light over the flushed and shining faces of men; old and young, poor and well-to-do, laborers and merchants were celebrating with the champions of the wrestling contest. Harried waitresses moved among the guests, pouring warm wine and carrying heaping trays of pickled vegetables and fried fish. Someone was singing along with the folk tunes played by an old zither player, and Tsuneya, the champion, was giving a solo performance of a local dance on a sake barrel.

Genba was there also, surrounded by his own circle of supporters. It mattered little to Genba's fans that he had lost the final match; he had come very close to winning, and that was reason enough for them to celebrate. And there was always next year.

Akitada, a stranger to all but Genba, stayed well in the background. He had come to congratulate Genba and because he wanted to gauge the mood of the local people. Their light-hearted revels reassured him, but his thoughts were on the coming night and his attention on the door to the restaurant.

Genba did not look at all unhappy with his loss to Tsuneya and was soaking up compliments, food, and wine in enormous portions. Akitada had put aside his fanciful notions about the contest somehow forecasting his future and felt relieved that Genba had not won. Winning the title would have meant his departure for the capital to perform before the emperor.

Thinking of this, Akitada leaned toward Genba and asked, "Will you continue with your wrestling?"

Genba put down his cup and burped softly behind his hand. Then he grinned, patting his huge midriff. "Sorry, sir. I've had no wine during training and now it seems to put wind in my belly. As for the wrestling, well, I guess it's in my blood. I was amazed how easily it all came back to me. And that was a good match today, sir. Never think they are yokels fresh from the farm or mountain men who live in caves the rest of the year. No, people honor the art hereabouts. Tsuneya has a very good chance of becoming national champion."

"I could see that." Akitada's heart sank at the thought that he was losing Genba after all. But he added bravely, "I had no idea that you were so good. I was very proud of you."

"Thank you, sir." Genba lowered his eyes and scratched his shiny scalp, overcome with embarrassment.

The zither player struck up another tune, and Akitada's eyes wandered to the door again. Nothing. "So, I suppose," he persisted, "you will not wish to take up your duties at the tribunal now?"

Genba stared at Akitada, his smile fading. "Why not? Don't you want me anymore?"

"Don't be foolish!" snapped his master, his nerves stretched as tight as the old man's zither strings. "Of course I want you. I even need you. But you cannot serve as my lieutenant in the tribunal and at the same time engage in wrestling as a profession."

"Oh!" The grin returned to Genba's face. "In that case, don't worry. I was afraid you were angry with me for spending so much time away. I'll be going back to the tribunal with Hito and Tora as soon as this party is over. My landlord's already paid off, and my things are over there in that bundle by the door. Some more wine, sir?"

"Thank you," said Akitada with feeling and held out his cup. His eyes went to the door again. He noted the bundle, then tried to control the sick panic that had been forming in his belly ever since the abbot's warning. But the door finally opened and Hitomaro slipped in, brushing a dusting of snow from his jacket.

Akitada put down his cup and got up to meet him. "Well?" he asked, his heart beating faster.

"No difficulties at all, sir." Hitomaro took a tightly folded and sealed paper from his sleeve and handed it over. "The weather is changing," he added. "The captain seems to think that will make it easier to hold the tribunal."

Akitada felt almost dizzy with relief. He scanned the letter and nodded. "The abbot was right. Takesuke will help us. One hundred men. He expresses his eagerness to uphold imperial authority in this province. Very proper." He gave Hitomaro the letter with a twisted smile. "Perhaps his fervent wish to *sacrifice his own life and that of all his soldiers in this stand against the military might of traitorous warlords' is a little unsettling, but I am grateful for his support. It seems we are not friendless after all. Come, join us for a quick bite and a cup of wine. I expect we have a long night ahead of us."

a Much later that night, past the hour of the tiger, Tora and Hitomaro, in partial armor, sat dozing in Akitada's office. They had spent several hours helping to prepare for the defense of the tribunal. Now there was nothing left but the waiting. Akitada had sent Seimei, who was still weak from his recent illness, to bed.

The smell of wood smoke was in the air, and a faint red glimmering showed through the closed shutters where metal cressets filled with oil-soaked kindling lit the courtyard. Now and then one of the guards outside pulled his bowstring with a loud twang to show that all was safe. Their master slept, wrapped in quilts and protected from the pervasive drafts by low screens. Genba snored in a corner.

"Go turn him over," muttered Hitomaro, "before he wakes the master."

Tora stumbled up, shook Genba, who grunted and rolled onto his side. From the courtyard came the muffled shouts of the sentries. Tora stretched and yawned. "I'll take a look around," he whispered to Hitomaro and slipped out.

Behind the screen Akitada said, "Hitomaro?"

"Yes, sir." Hitomaro got up and walked around the screen.

"Any news?" Akitada was propped on his good elbow and looked wide awake.

"Nothing, sir. It's been quiet as a grave."

"Not an apt comparison, I hope," Akitada said dryly and threw back his cover. He was fully dressed under theyoroi which protected his torso and thighs, but the rest of the equipmenta" shin guards, neck guard, left shoulder plates, and helmeta"lay in a corner of the room, where he hoped they would stay. "Is there any tea?" he asked, getting up with some difficulty and sitting down behind his desk.

"I'll get hot water, sir." Hitomaro headed out the door, as Tora came in with Captain Takesuke.

Takesuke, in full armor, light gleaming on the lacquered scales and the round helmet, saluted smartly. He looked tense and excited. "I just received a report from my reconnaissance troop, sir."

"Yes?"

"A force of mounted warriors has left Takata. Most of their banners have the Uesugi crest, but there are also some strange banners with dragons and an unknown crest among them. We have counted at least a hundred and fifty warriors. They are moving slowly, but should get here in less than two hours."

"Thank you, Captain. You have done exceptionally well so far, and I have no doubt that you will hold the tribunal in spite of the lack of fortifications."

Takesuke flushed and bowed snappily.

Tora said with a grin, "The cowardly bastards will turn tail when they see your flags flying over the tribunal, Captain. And if not, we'll give Uesugi something to think about."

"Those banners," Akitada mused. "The dragon is a symbol of imperial power in China. I suppose the judge must have suggested it to Uesugi as appropriate to the status of a ruler of the northern empire. But what is the other crest? Did you get a description, Captain?"

Takesuke handed over a scrap of paper. "It's not very good, I'm afraid. My man was some distance away and it's snowing."

Akitada spread out the scrap and looked at it. The brush strokes looked like something a very small child might make for a tree, a heavy vertical central stroke which sprouted three or four dashes angling upward on each side. "What is it, do you suppose?"

"A tree?" suggested Takesuke. "That's what my man thought it was."

Hitomaro came in with a steaming teapot. He and Tora both peered at the strange symbol.

"Some plant," Tora said. "Seimei might know it."

"If the lines were neater, I'd say a feather," Hitomaro offered, pouring Akitada's tea.

"A feather? Part of an arrow?" Staring at the sketch, Akitada raised the cup to his mouth, then remembered his manners. "Some tea, gentlemen?"

They shook their heads. Tea was bitter medicine to most people.

Akitada clapped his hands for Hamaya and woke up Genba, who yawned, blinked at them, and went back to sleep. Hamaya came in, but shook his head when he was shown the sketch. "If you will wait just a moment..." he muttered, and scurried from the room. When he returned, he carried a document box which contained carefully drawn lists of family crests for all recorded landowners in Echigo and its neighboring provinces. None matched the unknown crest.

"It means nothing," snorted Hitomaro. "The sketch must be wrong."

Takesuke protested, "He's a good man, sir. And he swore that it looked like that."

Akitada nodded. "Curious. Perhaps, like the dragon symbol, it is a new crest. Clearly Uesugi has someone's support, and it is not one of the registered families. Thank you, Hamaya." He watched as the elderly man gathered the documents and left. Hamaya had proved another staunch supporter during this trying time, refusing to return to the safety of his house in town. With a sigh, Akitada said to the others, "Well, we have two hours to find out if Uesugi will attack or withdraw. If he withdraws, tomorrow will be a day like any other. For the sake of reassuring the people, matters must appear as nearly normal as possible. Your soldiers, Captain, had best conduct a military exercise outside the city within view of the road to Takata. It will allow you to keep an eye on things."

Takesuke nodded. "Yes, sir. Tomorrow, sir. But now, if you don't need me, I shall prepare for battle. In case there's an attack tonight."

When the door had closed after him, Akitada said, "A surprisingly good man. He wasted no words. But I am afraid he hopes for hostilities tonight."

"Well, I'd rather have some action myself," snorted Tora. "This sitting around on our haunches is hard on an old campaigner like me. Why don't the three of us get up some plan to defend this hall? With the help of Kaoru and his constables, we could hold this building for days even if Takesuke fails."

Akitada suppressed a shudder. Should the enemy reach the hall, they would set fire to it. That would leave those inside the choice of being burned alive or falling to the swords and arrows of the waiting Uesugi warriors. He said, "No. Unlike you and the captain, I'm betting on a withdrawal. Meanwhile there is unfinished business." When Hitomaro and Tora looked blank, he reminded them, "We still have three prisoners, Umehara, Okano, and Takagi, and the unsolved murder of the innkeeper Sato to take care of."

"We shouldn't be wasting time on that now," protested Tora.

Hitomaro added, "Those three are happy in jail. They are warm and get three fine meals a day. Besides, they've made friends with the sergeant and the constables. Umehara has them running for new ingredients for his soups and stews. The farmer's boy does their cleaning chores in return for a game of dice. And Okano puts on a show every night. Our jail seems like paradise to them, and the constables treat them like their pets."

"Good heavens." Akitada shook his head in wonder. Then he said dryly, "Nevertheless. Winter is coming and their families are waiting. Once the heavy snows start, they will have to stay in Naoetsu till summer. I must remind you that the tribunal budget does not allow us to provide comfortable lodging for extended periods."

"But what can be done when that Mrs. Sato has disappeared?" asked Tora. "Her people haven't seen her, and her parents are worried sick. For all we know, she's been killed, too, and lies buried somewhere. We may never find her."

"Hmm." Akitada frowned and tugged on one of the armor's silk cords that pressed on his injured shoulder. "There is another matter that has been worrying me. I noticed a very peculiar reaction by Oyoshi when he misunderstood something you said. It almost looked as if he thought he was suspected of murder. Perhaps we should have asked some questions about his background. He visited the Satos frequently to care for the husband. And it was curious that he did not recognize his own patient."

"You can't suspect the doctor," cried Hitomaro after a moment's stunned silence. "Why, if we cannot trust him, whom can we trust?"

"That is true." Akitada sighed. He pulled a brocade-wrapped bundle closer and untied the silk cord. Inside was the lacquer box he had bought from the curio dealer. He opened it and poured a pile of shells onto the desk. Akitada stirred them idly with a long, slender finger, then picked out two, holding them up. "In the shell-matching game," he said, "you may pick a shell from the pile and, at first glance, it is a perfect match to one of yours, like these two zither players. But when you look more closely, you see a slight difference. The pictures are identical except for one small detail. One lady is performing on the thirteen-string zither, the other on an older type with only six strings. A careless player may forfeit the whole game by jumping to conclusions."

"I don't like such tricky games," muttered Tora.