"Wait, Akitada," cried Tamako, getting up also. "Don't rush in! You may make things worse. This is clearly a private matter. Perhaps, if anyone is going to burst in on her grief, it had better be me."

She was right, he thought, suddenly fearful. Something had happened, wherever she had been. Or it might be some female ailment. Or-heaven forbid-rape. The thought of some man doing violence to Yoshiko made him clench his hands. "I suppose you are right," he said. "Go to her, then. Only come back and let me know."

Tamako nodded and left.

Akitada sat back down and stared sightlessly at his accounts. His troubles seemed to be multiplying when they should have been at an end. He was finally free of a lifetime of blaming himself for the dislike shown to him by the woman he had believed to be his mother. His father no longer was the unfeeling authoritarian of his memory. He had come back to his home, truly his now, and was taking care of his own family as his father had done, at the desk his father had used. His career for once seemed secure. Yet peace and contentment escaped him. Happiness was slippery as an eel. Just when you thought you had a solid grip on it, it twisted this way and that, and was gone again. Oh, Yoshiko!

Seimei, his other point of discontent, came back in. "A visitor, sir," he announced with a bow. Seimei had become very formal lately.

The visitor turned out to be Kobe, and his arrival at this moment was anything but welcome. The superintendent strode in stiffly, nodding instead of bowing, and announced abruptly, "I must speak with you privately."

Akitada glanced at Seimei, who asked, "Shall I bring wine or tea before the gentlemen begin?"

"Nothing for me." Kobe stood waiting impatiently for Seimei to leave the room. When the door had closed behind Akitada's secretary, he waited, then walked quietly to the door and jerked it open. The corridor was empty. He grunted and slammed the door shut again with such force that the panels shuddered. Akitada watched with rising anger as Kobe returned and sat down stiffly across from him.

"My secretary," Akitada said coldly, "is not the kind of person who listens at doors. I gather from your manner you bring bad news of some sort."

Kobe stared at him for a moment. "Unpleasant for you, at any rate. I have discovered your little plot. How dare you compromise my investigation by slipping your minions into the prison? You will immediately produce your accomplice. She is under arrest. It is regrettable that I cannot do the same with you because of your position. However, I shall make an official report of the affair and protest in the strongest terms against your abuse of power." Fists clenched on either knee, he leaned forward and glared at Akitada. "I once thought better of you, by heaven, than that you would resort to sending a woman where you are forbidden to go. This time you have gone too far, Sugawara. This time I shall do my damnedest to put a permanent stop to your meddling."

Akitada wondered what new trouble was brewing. Kobe appeared furiously angry about some incident at the jail. It was all a mistake, of course, regrettable because he had hoped for a congenial discussion of his discoveries at the temple. Kobe looked angry enough to mean his threats. He said, "I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about."

Kobe's face darkened and he struck the desk. Boxes, water containers, and ink stones jumped and rattled. "Don't lie to me!" he shouted. "You know precisely what this is about. Today we followed her, and she walked into this house not an hour ago."

Yoshiko! The answer came to Akitada unbidden, unwanted, and dreaded. His certainty was linked to a memory of a woman with a basket, familiar to him even at a distance, walking away from the prison where Nagaoka's brother was being held. What had Yoshiko done?

Kobe snarled, "I see you know what I am talking about. Call her! I want to speak to her. I don't care who she is to you-your wife, for all I care. After she tells me everything that's been going on, she will be under arrest."

Akitada felt himself go cold with fear. He knew very well that Kobe could carry out his threat, and he also knew the man well enough to fear his temper. He must try to find the right approach to defuse the other man's rage.

"You are mistaken, Superintendent," he said as haughtily as he could manage. "I am still completely in the dark about what you accuse me of, except that it must have something to do with Nagaoka's brother. Considering your threats against me and mine, I must remind you that it is customary to make certain of one's facts before laying accusations against persons of rank. I have only recently returned from-"

Kobe interrupted, "No, my lord, not even your fine record in the north is going to protect you from these charges. Flagrant abuse of power and perversion of the due process of justice will disqualify you from all future administrative positions."

For all his bluster, Kobe seemed a bit less certain of himself. Akitada considered his position. In spite of a fine record up north, Kobe could make trouble for him here. Akitada still had some enemies at court, and while he had been very successful, he had not always followed the rules. A charge of high-handedness in the capital so soon after his return could be used against him.

But at the moment Akitada was less concerned about his career. He was innocent. No, it was the danger to Yoshiko which worried him. In her present state, she could not handle what Kobe had in mind for her. He tried another tactic.

"I must remind you that my family is mourning the recent death of my mother," he said, keeping his voice low and firm. "My wife and son only arrived a few days ago, hours before my mother died. The funeral is barely over. The only women in this house besides my wife are my sister and a cook and two maids. I hardly think that any of them is likely to be involved in a murder case."

Kobe stared at him. It was impossible to guess what was going through his mind. Akitada knew better than to think he would now apologize and depart. What he wished to avoid at all costs was that Yoshiko would be dragged off and subjected to interrogation. Even women were stripped by constables and beaten with bamboo whips if the investigating judge or officer was not satisfied with their account. He must hope that Kobe would hesitate to inflict this indignity On a member of his family.

The superintendent finally relaxed his angry posture. "I forgot," he said, looking away. "I did hear that Lady Sugawara had died. Your mother, you say?"

Akitada nodded, keeping his face bleak and expressionless.

"Yes. Hmm. Sorry to hear it. Come to think of it, there was a taboo tablet at the gate. Hmm."

Akitada waited.

Kobe sat undecided for a moment, his hands now relaxed, the fingers drumming on his knees. Then he grumbled, "Er, the situation is awkward, and I regret my poor timing, but you must see that I had to investigate this matter immediately. Repeated visits of an outsider to a prisoner about to come to trial very likely will compromise the case. I must be in a position to give a full explanation to the judge or I, along with the people who were responsible for the prisoner, may be dismissed from office. I won't allow that to happen just to observe the proprieties."

Akitada nodded again. "That is understandable. Your mind is on your duties, as mine is on family matters. We must find a compromise. Perhaps you had better tell me what happened and what precisely you suspect us of. How many visits were there?"

Kobe's high color faded. He answered in a normal tone. "The female has come every single day since the time you and I met outside Nagaoka's house. Always in the evening."

Akitada thought back. Had he mentioned the Nagaoka case to Yoshiko? Yes, he recalled sharing some of its frustrations with her over dinner that day. And she had taken the brother's side. A bit too vehemently, perhaps? Did Yoshiko know the suspect- what was his name?-Kojiro? He asked Kobe, "How did she get in?"

"She claimed to be his wife, bringing him his dinner. It was not until yesterday that I heard of it and told the fool of a guard that Kojiro's not married. Idiot!" Kobe angrily blew through his nostrils.

That explained the empty basket! No doubt it was exactly what she had done, taken the prisoner food. He was not about to have Kobe probe into this mystery before he himself knew what was going on, and said, "Look, Superintendent, I cannot at the moment explain why this mysterious woman should have come to my house, and I shall certainly try to find out what is going on. But under the present circumstances, I must ask you not to trouble my family. If you agree, I shall come to you as soon as I have information. Tomorrow morning, early. For the present, I can only repeat that I knew nothing of this."

Kobe frowned and was about to make some comment. Akitada added quickly, "I do, however, have some information I discovered on another visit to the Eastern Mountain Temple. Only my family's arrival and my mother's death have intervened."

Kobe looked interested. "Oh? Well, what is it?"

Akitada outlined his visit to the temple and his conversations with the gatekeeper Eikan and the novice Ancho. He explained the mechanism of the lock and his theory that the murder could have been committed by someone other than the prisoner.

Kobe sat frowning as he digested the information. When Akitada finished, he pointed out that this discovery did not clear Kojiro. Still Akitada's reasonable and cooperative manner had not only calmed the stormy waters, but given Kobe something to think about. He even looked slightly ashamed of himself when he said, "It is unfortunate that the death of your mother has intervened. I am pressed for time, or I would not insist on your looking into the other matter right away. Shall I expect you tomorrow morning, then, at the hour of the snake? I'll be at the eastern prison." Kobe rose.

Akitada stood also. They bowed formally to each other, and the superintendent left, closing the door almost gently after himself.

Now that his fear for Yoshiko's safety had been allayed, Akitada could not remember when he had last felt so angry with anyone. How could she have done this to him? He tried to control his fury before going to his sister's room, but the memory of Kobe's charges and the thought of what lay ahead the next day upset him anew. He would have it out with her now.

He entered Yoshiko's room without knocking. The two women sat huddled together, Yoshiko weeping softly and Tamako with her arm around his sister's shoulders. They both looked up at him, Tamako clearly put out by his sudden unannounced arrival.

Akitada ignored the unspoken reproach and said to Yoshiko, "I just had a most unpleasant visit from the superintendent of police."

Yoshiko gasped and turned white.

"It appears," Akitada continued, "that you have been paying regular visits to a prisoner who is about to come to trial. Superintendent Kobe assumes that I arranged these visits in order to communicate with the man after being warned away from him. He intends to file an official complaint."

The two women cried out together, protesting vehemently. Akitada raised his hand and snapped, "One at a time." He glared at Tamako. "And I believe I was speaking to Yoshiko."

Tamako flushed and bowed stiffly. Yoshiko rose and came forward, kneeling before him, her head bowed.

"I beg your pardon for having offended you, Elder Brother," she said, her voice catching. "I acted most selfishly and foolishly and I have brought shame and embarrassment upon my elder brother and this family. Whatever amends I can make, I shall gladly perform. My rash behavior has already brought grievous pain to Kojiro-" She broke off and fought for composure. After a moment, during which Akitada ignored a pleading gesture from Tamako, she continued, "When you told me that Kojiro had been arrested for murder, I had to go to him. Kojiro and I... we were once very close ... many years ago." She hesitated to glance quickly up at Akitada's face. "He is the man who wished to marry me. I know I should have asked your permission before going, but I was afraid you would not give it. And I could not ask Mother." She dabbed at her tear-stained face.

It was worse than he had feared. "You are quite right," he snapped. "I would certainly not have allowed a sister of mine to masquerade as a common slattern carrying food to her criminal husband. I assume, of course, that no marriage has taken place between you and this man, formal or otherwise?"

"Of course not." Yoshiko flushed and raised her head proudly. "Both Kojiro and I have behaved with the utmost propriety. He wished to marry me. I accepted, and he immediately spoke to Mother, who refused his offer with many cruel remarks. We never saw each other again until now."

Akitada found her calm admission infuriating. "Your behavior, then as now, was reprehensible," he said coldly. "He is the brother of a local merchant, a mere farmer himself, and certainly not a suitable acquaintance, let alone husband, for a daughter of the Sugawaras. You had no right to accept an offer of marriage, or to encourage it."

Yoshiko was looking down at her hands. She was quite calm and firm. "You were away at the time and you never met Kojiro. It is not well to judge a man one does not know. Master Confucius teaches us to be kind to everyone and to seek out the good in men. Kojiro is a good man."

At first Akitada thought he had misheard. Yoshiko had never spoken this way to him, or anyone, before. Had she really dared reprimand him? After her behavior? After all the trouble she had caused? He felt his anger begin to boil over and clenched his hands together behind his back to keep from striking her. Through his teeth, he said, "I have no wish to discuss your shameful past with this man any further. I barely prevented your arrest tonight. Unless I can convince Kobe of your innocence tomorrow morning, you will find yourself in a cell-in the same jail as your lover. And you, too, will be stripped of your clothes, in front of male prison guards, and beaten with bamboo rods until your back is lacerated from shoulders to buttocks or until you confess to having plotted with me to get Kojiro's charges dismissed. You will be asked about the lies I told you to suggest to Kojiro, and after a while you will tell them what they want to hear."

Both Tamako and Yoshiko stared at him in horror.

"No," cried Yoshiko. "I would never say what isn't true. I would die first."

Tamako said, "They would not dare lay a hand on your sister."

"Don't be a fool!" Akitada stormed at her. Then he looked from one to the other. They were well-brought-up young women, belonging to the "good people," their skin white and soft because they did not have to work for their food, their hair long and glossy because they had leisure to brush it. What did either of them know of the extremities of existence? He said harshly, "You know nothing of such things, but I do. As part of my duties I have had to witness such interrogations, and once or twice in my life I myself have come to know what it is like to go beyond caring about anything but the unbearable agony."

Tamako paled and bowed her head. "Forgive me, Akitada," she murmured.

But Yoshiko's stubborn chin was raised. "I am as certain as I can be that you did not dishonor your name on those occasions," she said, her eyes flashing. "But I, too, am Sugawara and, I tell you, I should rather die than submit."

"Keep in mind that your lover will undergo the same treatment as you. Will he also be willing to die to protect your family?"

"Yes. Kojiro has already suffered through one interrogation without telling them about me," Yoshiko said proudly. "It was because of me that he was beaten today. His guard told me when I got to the prison."

"That was the reason Yoshiko was so distraught when she came home," said Tamako.

"You were followed," Akitada informed his sister.

Yoshiko nodded. "Yes. I am very sorry to have caused you trouble, Akitada," she said. "And I am even more sorry for Kojiro. He has suffered for my sake. But I am not sorry that I love him. Once he is cleared of the murder charge, we shall be married."

"What?" Akitada ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Was there no way he could assert his authority in his own family? First the trouble with Akiko, and now Yoshiko, too! It must be their mother's blood which made them so unmanageable, so bent on causing mischief. He shouted, "You will do nothing of the sort. I forbid it! He is not a suitable husband for a sister of mine."

Yoshiko was quite pale now, but her chin was still up and she looked him straight in the eyes. "I am only your half sister. You owe me nothing. Having brought disgrace upon you, it will be best if I leave this house. I shall go to my sister. Toshikage will speak to Superintendent Kobe to explain to him that you knew nothing about my relationship with Kojiro. Then, if the superintendent wishes to arrest me, at least he will not need to come to your house to do so."

Their eyes locked. The pain of her rejection twisted like a knife deep in his stomach. Belatedly appalled at his treatment of her, he stammered, "You cannot do that... why Akiko?... or Toshikage? What can they do for you that I cannot do? Have I not always stood by you? By both of you? Why are you doing this to me, Yoshiko?"

Yoshiko's eyes faltered. She murmured, "I am sorry, Akitada, but I have given my word to Kojiro and I cannot break it."

Seimei's phrase! Everyone in his family seemed eager to pledge allegiance to others! Who would desert him next? Staring bleakly down at his sister, Akitada shook his head, turned on his heel, and left the room.

He did not share his wife's bed that night but spent restless, guilt-ridden hours in his father's room, trying to find answers to his family troubles. Tamako came once, perhaps in an effort to make peace, but he said, "Not now. I must think what to do." She inclined her head and left silently, returning much later with his bedding, which she spread for him without a word. He felt intensely lonely after she had left again.

Sometime during the night it began to snow. When the shadows of the room began to close in on him, Akitada threw back the shutters onto a pitch-black night. It was cold, but there was little wind now. The light from his lamp caught the large flakes as they fell slowly, drifting a little on unseen air currents, spinning in circles before floating gently to the ground. Shimmering like moving stars, they seemed to arrive from a void beyond, materializing only within the reach of his study light. The nearer shrubs and trees showed dimly with faint white highlights, but the gravel and the veranda boards were solid sparkling silver. Only the surface of the fishpond lay like a black mirror reflecting a black universe beyond.

Akitada stood for a long time, watching the mysterious arrival of the snow, before he closed the shutters and returned to his bed.

When he woke the next morning, the blackness outside had changed to a uniform gray. The snow had stopped, but heavy low clouds seemed to brush the stark treetops, and the light was so faint that the snow on the ground and on the roof of his house looked dull like unbleached silk.

Akitada dressed quickly in a dark robe, his court hat with the taboo pendant, leggings, and boots. Seimei knocked and entered with a bow and murmured a greeting, bringing a dish of rice gruel and a pot of hot water for tea. He asked for instructions for the day.

Akitada sipped his tea. "Do what you like! Carry on with the accounts," he said. "I have to go out this morning."

Seimei hesitated, looking unhappy, then bowed and left.

In spite of the early hour, Kobe was waiting at the prison when Akitada was shown to the office set aside for his use. Kobe's mood was almost conciliatory. He offered Akitada warm wine.

"No, thank you." Akitada found it impossible to produce a polite smile. Seating himself across from Kobe, he plunged into his speech. "Last night I was shocked and angered by your accusations. Today I find that I must apologize for the foolish and dangerous actions of a member of my family. As head of the family, I take full responsibility for what happened, even though I had no knowledge of it."

Kobe nodded. He looked politely attentive. "Please continue!"

"I am afraid that the woman your men followed from the prison to my house is my younger sister Yoshiko."

At that Kobe's eyes widened. "Your sister?"

"Yes. It appears that she formed an attachment to the prisoner many years ago. I am to blame for her visits, because I carelessly discussed the Nagaoka murder with her. At the time, I had no idea that she knew anyone in that family, and she did not tell me."

Kobe seemed too astonished to doubt Akitada's words. "I see," he murmured. "How very unpleasant for you! It would hardly have occurred to you that your sister would form such a very unsuitable ... relationship with a person of that type. You have my sympathy."

For a moment, Akitada thought he was being mocked. But Kobe's face expressed only shock and concern. Perversely, this easy acceptance of his explanation, entailing as it did revelations of a personally embarrassing nature, angered Akitada. Surely the man Yoshiko had become involved with was not so completely contemptible. Nagaoka was a merchant, but a highly respected one and a man of considerable culture. And the man Akitada remembered meeting in the rain at the temple gate had appeared gentlemanly. Then he realized that, to Kobe, Kojiro was a criminal, and that his sister's reputation depended on clearing her lover of the murder charge.

He pulled himself together and said, "I am much obliged to you for believing me, Superintendent. Since my sister is now deeply implicated in the case, I wonder if you might reconsider your position and allow me to assist you." He steeled himself for another refusal.

To his surprise, Kobe pursed his lips and studied the ceiling thoughtfully. He said, "Hmm," and after a moment, again, "Hmm."

Encouraged by this, his heart beating faster, Akitada promised rashly, "I would, of course, do nothing but what you had approved beforehand, work under your supervision, so to speak."

Kobe brought his eyes back from the ceiling and looked at him. He seemed amused; the corner of his mouth twitched. "I did not think the famous Sugawara would ever say such words to me. Will you go another step, my lord, and promise to be bound by my decision?"

Akitada flushed with shame, but said steadily enough, "Yes."

Kobe rose. "Come along, then. You shall speak to the prisoner. In my presence."

Akitada hardly knew what to make of Kobe's sudden compliance and assumed it had been bought with his own humiliation. So be it! As they walked through the outer offices and past scores of police officers and constables toward the wing of the building where the cells were, it occurred to him that he had no idea how to proceed. The man's relationship with Yoshiko made any thorough questioning awkward. And Kobe's presence at this first meeting between them was more than just embarrassing.

The figure who rose with a rattle of chains and stood, supporting himself against the wall, bore little resemblance to the sturdy young man at the mountain temple. Both his hair and beard had grown untended, he wore a ragged, stained shirt and loose cotton pants, and stood barefoot on the cold dirt floor of the cell. There was a smear of blood on his shoulder where the shirt had slipped, and more traces of bleeding on his chin from biting his lower lip.

Akitada had seen men look like this before-too many times-and he met the eyes of the prisoner. The eyes usually told the story. If they had that dull, hopeless look, a sign of having stopped fighting against a stronger force, one knew that the prisoner had told all he knew. He had come to wish for it as much as it sickened him, for it meant there would be no more beatings.

Kojiro did not have that look yet. He seemed both defiant and indifferent as he glanced from Kobe to Akitada. He frowned, then returned his attention to the superintendent. Apparently he did not remember their meeting. He neither bowed nor spoke, but an expectant silence hung heavy between them.

Akitada wondered what Yoshiko could have seen in this man. True, he was not at his best at the moment, but even cleaned up, he would only be an ordinary man of middling height, certainly shorter than either Akitada or Kobe, squarely built, with a face which was neither distinguished nor handsome. The cheekbones were broad, the nose flat, and the lips too wide and thick. He looked like what he was, a peasant. To be sure, he was not as blackened by the sun, nor as stringy and bent from labor in the rice paddies, but he certainly lacked every vestige of male grace as it was defined by people of Akitada's rank. Akitada was not vain and thought poorly of his own appearance, but he had formed certain ideas about the sort of men women admired. Kojiro did not fit them.

It was Kobe who broke the silence first. "Well, Kojiro. I understand you continued your stubbornness during questioning yesterday."

The prisoner did not answer, but he moved his shoulders slightly, as if he wanted to remind himself of the occasion. Akitada had seen the backs of "stubborn" prisoners and knew the man was in pain.

Kobe continued, "It was a waste of time, you know. We found out who the young lady was."

Something flickered in Kojiro's eyes, but he said nothing. He fears a trap, thought Akitada, mildly surprised that the peasant had attempted to protect Yoshiko's honor with his own skin.

The prisoner finally opened his lips and croaked, "What do you want, Superintendent?"

Kobe grinned unpleasantly. "I? Nothing. I am here because this gentleman has some questions to put to you."

The man turned to look at Akitada warily.

Akitada did not like the cat-and-mouse game. He said brusquely, "My name is Sugawara. Yoshiko has told me of her visits here."