Death of a Doll Maker

“No, wait!” he screamed again, his hands pressed to the place where his nose had been. “I’ll talk.”

The servant moved back a little, but he still held the bloody knife.

He told them. He told the truth because he was much too desperate to think of a good lie. And maybe also because a small part of him still hoped he would get away alive and come back for his revenge.

The other man nodded when he was done. “Good. Very well, Ling won’t have to make a mess of my stable after all, and we can go to bed at a decent hour. Ling?”

The servant came to open the gate, and for a moment, he thought it had worked and sighed with relief.

But the brute stopped before him, so close he saw his widening grin as the blow came. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, then a numbness followed by a great cold. And then he was face down in the dirt and couldn’t catch his breath. Something inside his chest contracted violently.

And on that agonizing spasm, all went dark.

2

THE PROMOTION

“I’ve been wondering, sir. Why you?” Tora was leaning on the ship’s rail, watching the approaching shore.

There had been little to do on board ship. Akitada had spent the weeks pacing the deck, searching like Tora for meaning in the past events.

Ironically, the first news about this assignment had been cause for joy in the Sugawara family. It had arrived via Kosehira’s New Year’s letter. They exchanged family news around this time. Akitada had informed Kosehira he would be a father again in the coming year and wished Kosehira an equal amount of happiness and a long life.

Kosehira had responded with the somewhat puzzling joke about good news being a certainty for Akitada while a long life might require his special talents. Akitada had meant to ask for an explanation, but by then the New Year had arrived, and the house was in a frenzy of decoration and preparation of special dishes. The women were sewing new clothes and the children begged for toys. Akitada went shopping for silk for Tamako and balls, dolls, and games for all the children in his household. There were four of them now. His own two were a girl and a boy, Yasuko and Yoshitada; Tora and Hanae had a son, Yuki; and Genba had a baby girl. His thriving household gave Akitada a deep happiness. The venerable Sugawara residence, though plagued by roof leaks and sagging timbers, was filled with the laughter of children and he was surrounded by people he loved. And now they had also the promise of another child when he and Tamako had nearly given up hope for it. Tamako had thought herself too old, though she seemed to glow with youth and beauty.

The memory of Kosehira’s letter did not surface until an acquaintance approached him one morning while he was on his way to the ministry. “My heartiest congratulations, Sugawara. Well done!” he had cried. “Another step in rank. Fortune truly knocks on your door.”

Akitada had stopped. “How so?”

“You haven’t heard? Your name is on the promotions list.”

It was!

Akitada could not account for such a thing. The past year had been so ordinary he had become bored with his work and passed much of it on to younger men. He had felt a strange shiver of premonition.

But sudden and inexplicable promotion was usually an example of the peculiar workings of government. He had decided to enjoy it, along with the other pleasures of the season.

And now they were entering Hakata Bay in Kyushu on an early spring day while gulls danced against a limpid blue sky and a green land beckoned ahead, and Akitada could not shed a sense of foreboding.

Tora said, “Is something going on here that requires someone like you rather than one of their usual picks?”

Trust Tora to see through his subterfuge.

“I’m here to serve as governor of Chikuzen province. I gather you feel that doesn’t require special skills,” Akitada said, his lip twitching.

Tora laughed.

*

But of course there was a great deal more to it. His secret orders were to find and arrest the man or men engaged in illicit trade with China. He was told no one was above suspicion. And that made his assignment not only difficult, but dangerous. He had postponed telling Tora and Saburo about this because he was afraid that in their eagerness they would give something away and warn his unknown adversary.

It had all started so i

They were a mere two years late in their recognition of his work in Naniwa, an assignment that had almost cost his life and those of Tora and Saburo as well. Still, it had felt good to be acknowledged at all, and Akitada had basked in the warmth of official approval, a rare enough occurrence in his long service.

After the ceremony. Fujiwara Kaneie, his immediate superior at the Ministry of Justice, caught up with him and took hold of his sleeve.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he had asked, looking upset. “I would have thought we were on better terms after all this time.”

“It was posted a few days ago, sir,” Akitada had replied. “I hadn’t expected it.”

“I don’t mean the promotion, which is long overdue and you have my felicitations, of course. No, I meant the fact you’re leaving.”

“I’m leaving?”

“Yes, you’re going to Kyushu. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

Kyushu? Akitada had felt an icy chill passing down his body.

When he found his voice, he had said. “Are you certain? Why the promotion if they merely want to get rid of me?”

“Don’t jump to silly conclusions. It’s a fine assignment. They are impressed with your work.” Kaneie grimaced. “Though it will certainly create massive problems at the ministry. I wish they’d think before they make such changes.”

“But what assignment? No one has told me anything.”

“Oh-oh.” Kaneie was looking past him. “I think they are about to correct the oversight.”

A pale young man joined them, introduced himself as Akisuki Masanobu, and took Akitada to Fujiwara Kinsada, a major counselor who held the second rank and advised His Majesty on matters of state.

This interview, which took place in the Dajo-kwan, a large complex of halls devoted to the important national decisions, had decided Akitada’s fate. He still had only a vague memory of it.

He had bowed deeply to an elderly man in a black court robe. Fujiwara Kinsada was middle-aged, on the thin side, and pale. His slightly bulging eyes studied Akitada, but his face gave nothing away.

Nervous, Akitada had barely managed the customary “May I extend the best wishes of the season to you and your family, Your Excellency?”

The answer had been brusque: “Thank you. You may wonder why you are here. I’ll come to the point. No sense in postponing celebrations, is there?” The thin lips had twitched without quite smiling.

“No, Your Excellency.” Kyushu was no cause for celebration.

“His Most Gracious Majesty has decided to send a trusted man to Kyushu to look into certain irregularities there. Information has reached the court that someone there may be engaged in secret negotiations with China. Your name was suggested because of your familiarity with trade and piracy on the Inland Sea.”