When Seimei quietly entered the next morning, he found his master already awake and sitting at his desk, surrounded by books and documents, and making rapid notes by the light of a candle.
“Good morning, Seimei,” Akitada said absently, dipping brush into ink and writing some more. “Is Tora up? I must see him before I leave for the office.”
Seimei set down his oil lamp and came over to peer at Akitada’s face. “Umhum,” he muttered. “That still looks very bad, sir. Is it painful? Can you open the eye at all?”
Akitada paused in his writing. “It hurts and I cannot open it. So what? Life does not come to a halt because of a black eye. There is a great deal of work to be done the next few weeks.”
Seimei frowned. “Perhaps the eye itself is damaged. We should call a physician.”
“Nonsense.” Akitada bent to his task again.
“At least go in a little later this morning and let me apply more compresses.”
“No. Now go get Tora and my morning rice.”
Seimei left, shaking his head.
Akitada was at last filled with excitement and hope. In the past hour or so he had gathered data and quotations from the library of chronicles, law books, and Chinese classics that he and his ancestors before him had collected. The memorial was the most momentous work he had ever been engaged in. In addition, there were several other exciting and important projects in hand and, for once, he had the freedom to engage in them. He hoped fervently that Soga would stay away for a long, long time.
Tora came in, wearing the clothes of a poor day laborer. His shirt and short pants were of cheap cotton, he had tied up his hair in an old rag, and he was barefoot. He was followed by Seimei carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and a bowl of gruel. Seimei cast disapproving glances at Tora’s attire.
Akitada washed out his brush and said briskly, “Sit down, Tora. Seimei, please pour tea for both of us and then you may leave us for a little while.”
Tora grinned. “No tea for me, sir. I had some wine with my morning rice. Wine warms the blood and encourages proper digestion.” He cast a sly look toward Seimei.
“What complete nonsense,” Seimei cried. “As I have told you before, wine overheats the blood and sours the stomach. It is for that very reason that it should be avoided in the morning. Tea has the opposite effect. You will be sorry in another hour when you start belching and getting drowsy.”
“Stop the wrangling,” Akitada interrupted. “There’s work to be done. Tora, I have to be at the ministry this morning, and possibly into the afternoon. You must begin the investigation alone. I suggest you seek out Lieutenant Ihara and discuss what progress he has made. Perhaps you can work together on checking known gangs and their activities.” He saw that Tora looked mulish and asked, “What is wrong?”
“I don’t like Ihara. Besides, I work better alone.”
“Don’t be silly. He may have learned something important in the meantime. And a police officer has certain prerogatives that you don’t have.”
“Not with crooks.”
“You have a point. But at least make sure that you speak to him first. And be pleasant. He could have made your release much more difficult. Why are you wearing those clothes?”
“I thought it might be better if I blended in with the crowd this time.”
“Ah. Quite right. You do look more like those toughs yesterday. But Ihara first.”
Tora sighed. “All right. Anything else?”
“The vendors in the market may know about Tomoe’s regular visitors.”
Tora nodded. “I was going to start there.”
Akitada drummed his fingers on the desk and thought. Should he send Tora back to the street where the nun was attacked? No, better not. Tora had improved past all recognition during his years of service with Akitada, but his manners were not quite up to dealing with the people who lived there. Of course, Professor Takahashi might welcome the very handsome Tora. Foolish thought. Tora definitely could not handle a proposition from Takahashi with diplomacy.
“What’s so funny?”
“After my run-in with the thugs yesterday, I spoke with one of the neighbors-a retired professor who offers private tutoring to handsome boys. I was wondering if you might have better luck with him than I.”
Tora chuckled. “I doubt it, sir. I bet it was only your bruised face that turned him off. In a couple of days, you’ll be as handsome as ever and have him eating out of your hand.” He gave a snort and added in an undertone, “Or whatever.”
Akitada ignored the coarse suggestion and said, “It’s too bad that I’m so busy at the moment. That nun knows something…” He broke off, his mouth open with surprise. “Great heaven! She wasn’t a nun at all.”
“No nun?” Tora looked interested. “You mean she was an ordinary girl in nun’s clothes? Was she pretty?”
“Not an ordinary girl. A noblewoman, I think, and quite pretty. And wearing perfume. I was so preoccupied with the brute who slammed me against the wall and very nearly blinded me that I forgot the silk she wore under the nun’s habit. And her veil had slipped. I think her hair was long.”
Tora whistled. “What luck! Silk underclothes. Brother, how I wish I’d been there!”
Akitada regretted his words and said sharply, “Really, Tora. The point is she came to your hearing in disguise. That means she’s respectable, belongs to the upper classes, and certainly undertook that errand without the approval of her family and, as it turned out, at considerable risk. Why would a young woman of that class take such a chance?”
“Well, it wasn’t for my sake, so it figures it was for Tomoe. Bet you she’s one of the ladies Tomoe used to sing to.”
“Perhaps, but she wouldn’t take such chances just because she felt sorry for a blind entertainer. No, I think she knows something of Tomoe’s past, or she’s involved in the same dangerous game which cost Tomoe her life.”
Tora thought. “She’d hardly be working with a gang. If she knows the killer, he wasn’t a thug. Maybe we’re looking in the wrong place.”
Akitada sighed. “We must find her. Whatever she knows is both secret and dangerous. As soon as I can get away from the office I’ll go back and talk to the neighbors again. This time I’ll ask about a young woman who is probably married and part of a family in that quarter. Meanwhile, you’d better see Ihara and then go into the city. Good luck!”
Tora spent the best part of the morning looking for Lieutenant Ihara. Tora’s poor clothes were no help in getting information from the constables. Finally, one of them sent him to the Eastern Prison. When Tora got there, a guard recognized him and, unaware that Tora had been released, thought he was escaping and tried to throw him back into a cell. The confusion was finally cleared up, but not until Tora had gathered more bruises. Ihara was not there and was not expected.
In an increasingly rebellious mood Tora retraced his steps.
This time he took up his stand in the courtyard of police headquarters and asked every red-coat passing by for Ihara. They ignored him until a burly sergeant came to investigate. “If they told you he’s not here, that’s where he is,” said the sergeant with confusing logic. “We’re too busy to talk to every lout who walks in here with questions. Go away or I’ll have you thrown out.”
Perhaps he would have been treated better if he had worn his neat blue robe and black cap, but that had proved a distinct disadvantage when dealing with the criminal classes. Tora retreated to the gate and fumed helplessly, until he saw Kobe arriving. The red-coats stood to attention, and Tora blocked his way.
“Sir,” he cried, bowing to the superintendent. “I wonder if you might help me.”
A collective gasp went around the constables. Two of them jumped forward, shouting, “Your pardon, Honorable Superintendent,” and grabbed Tora to drag him away.
Tora shook them off. “You see,” he said to Kobe, “all of these bas-er, constables-claim they don’t know where Lieutenant Ihara is, which is surely a strange thing in a well-run police department. I wouldn’t trouble you, but my master insisted. They’ve already sent me clear across town to the Eastern Prison. When I got there, no Ihara, but the guards tried to lock me up again. And just now the sergeant told me to get lost.”
Eight or ten grim-faced policemen with metal prongs and chains moved in on Tora. They waited for the order to seize the troublemaker and teach him some manners.
But instead Kobe put a hand on Tora’s shoulder in the friendliest manner and said, “Well, let’s see what I can do for you, Tora.” The policemen looked at each other and retreated a few steps. They hid their weapons and pretended to form a sort of honor guard through which the two men passed.
In the courtyard, the plump sergeant hurried toward them. Kobe said loudly, “I’m surprised that you had difficulties. Most of our men are well-trained. They know that I expect them to treat everybody with courtesy and to show eagerness when assisting the public.”
The sergeant stopped. Tora saw his sheepish face and grinned. “That’s good to know, sir. If I need a job, I might want to give your sort of work a try. I’ve got a certain talent for it, and you could use able people. Seeing as there are so many bandits loose in the city.”
Inside the building, Kobe sent for Lieutenant Ihara and then invited Tora to sit down and explain his talents to him.
Tora looked around Kobe’s large and well-appointed office, noting with approval that a constable appeared quickly with hot wine, and that another policeman asked if he should take notes. His master’s imminent loss of employment had quite determined him to find a job, and police work might be the very thing. He enjoyed investigating crimes, and heaven knew, Kobe must be desperate to replace the dolts outside. That brilliant red uniform was nothing to sneeze at either. Girls liked that sort of thing.
So he took a deep breath and began with his strong physique, moved on to his military service, glossing over the fact that he had been summarily cashiered for insulting his superior, and outlined with great satisfaction his adventures during his service to Akitada. Tora was not given to modesty, though he stopped short of outright lies.
When he was done, a straight-faced Kobe said, “You are a most amazing person, Tora. I don’t think we have a position worthy of your talents.”
Tora waved the objection away. “Never mind. I’ll be glad to make myself available as a consultant or advisor whenever you have a tricky killer or a case your people can’t solve. I expect there are many such, enough to keep me busy. But at the moment I have Tomoe’s murder to solve. Maybe we’ll talk again some other time?”
Kobe choked and was still coughing when Lieutenant Ihara entered and saluted. Tora and Ihara exchanged slight nods.
“Tora was looking for you,” Kobe informed the lieutenant. “He plans to begin his investigation into the blind singer’s murder today and thought you might share your findings with him.”
Ihara’s jaw dropped. For a moment, he looked both shocked and disgusted. Then his face congealed. “I was under the impression, sir,” he said stiffly, “that this man is a suspect in the case and under house arrest.”
“Tora was placed in the custody of Lord Sugawara until the investigation is complete. There’s a difference. In fact, it was Lord Sugawara who sent Tora to you.”
“But, sir, the training manual, Instructions to Officers of the Metropolitan Police, states specifically that details of an ongoing investigation must not be shared with the public, let alone the accused.”
Kobe’s fingers gently tapped the desk. “Judge Masakane instructed Lord Sugawara to assist in this investigation. That changes the situation, because the Instructions also remind you to follow legal procedures as outlined by a proper judge. Lord Sugawara is busy at his ministry during the absence of his superior and has delegated a part of the work to Tora. Tora assures me that he has experience in criminal investigations and is eager to assist. Now, do you have any other objections, or can I get on with more pressing business?”
Ihara blanched. “None, sir.” He bowed, then nodded to Tora and headed out the door.
Tora looked after him and made a face. “Thanks for your confidence in me, sir. I wasn’t really looking forward to this even before the lieutenant expressed his feelings, but my master asked me to do it, so I suppose I’d better.” He got to his feet and bowed.
Kobe smiled. “Good man!”
Ihara was waiting outside. “Follow me,” he snapped.
They passed through the main hall and out into the courtyard. Constables saluted Ihara and stared at Tora. Ihara entered a low barracks and took Tora to a tiny office which contained little more than a battered bamboo shelf stacked with papers, and a small, stained writing desk with brushes and a worn inkstone.
“Sit!” Ihara pointed to a small grass mat near the writing table.
Suppressing a sigh, Tora obeyed. “If you could just fill me in about anything that didn’t come out during the hearing, I’ll be on my way. I’m thinking about that lacquer box, for example. Any success tracing it?”
Ihara had a sheaf of notes in his hand and frowned down at them. Turning abruptly to Tora, he asked, “Can you read?”
Tora only looked at him and extended his hand. The truth was that his reading skills remained poor, but he was not about to give this arrogant bastard of a police officer the satisfaction of admitting it. He looked through the paperwork, an assortment of notes taken down by different people. Some seemed to be interviews, transcribed by police department scribes and fairly legible, but many were notes dashed off by Ihara and other policemen. Tora pursed his lips. “These,” he said, holding up some of the latter, “are badly written.”
Ihara flushed. “We are very busy and must often note things down in a great hurry and without adequate equipment or light. The one on top concerns the box.”
“Ah,” murmured Tora and tried to read it. “What is that bit about Nara?”
Ihara snatched the paper from his hand and scanned it. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. Lord Sugawara wanted me to find out where the box came from, in case she had stolen it somewhere. We’ve asked all the lacquerers here, but nobody recognized it. What’s more, they didn’t think it was local work. This one man said he thought it had been made by someone called Tameyoshi in Nara. But they all agreed it was very fine and must’ve cost a lot of money. Clearly stolen.”
Tora glared. “Not by Tomoe. Maybe it was a present from that family she visited.”
Ihara gave a shout of laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who would give a blind woman an expensive cosmetics box? For singing a few songs?”
Tora shook his head stubbornly. “There’s bound to be an explanation. Tomoe didn’t steal and she wasn’t a whore.”
“Maybe she was no whore. I’m inclined to believe her landlady was lying about that. Let’s face it, with those pockmarks, she’d have had a hard time giving it away.”
Tora flared up, “Watch your tongue! She had more class than you and I together. It’s not her fault she was poor and blind and had a few scars on her face. I thought you people were supposed to protect us, not drag our names into the mud when we can’t help ourselves any longer. The superintendent said so.”
Ihara bit his lip. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He stared at Tora. “It hadn’t occurred to me that you and she… might’ve been close.”
Tora scowled, his fist clenching around the papers. He decided that he would not tell Ihara about the nun who was no nun. In fact, he had no intention of sharing any information with the man, now or ever.
“Here! Watch what you’re doing. I need those,” yelped Ihara, pointing at the papers.
Tora eased his grip and smoothed out the crumpled sheets. He glanced at the rest quickly, then handed them back to Ihara and got up.
“Well? See anything interesting?” Ihara asked.
“If there is, you should know.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Talk to people.” Tora made for the door.
“Be sure to report to me.”
Tora grunted and let the door slam behind him.
He hoped he would never have to lay eyes on Ihara again. No wonder women were attacked on the street in broad daylight and hoodlums dared to lift their hands against his master. With the exception of Kobe-Tora was willing to give the superintendent the benefit of the doubt-the police were incompetent, ignorant, and lacking in manners. He no longer wished to join their ranks and hoped Ihara would make a fool of himself.
Tora strode out briskly, so infuriated by his encounter with the snooty lieutenant that he was oblivious to his surroundings until he passed through the market gateway and was greeted by the sights, sounds, and smells of the place. People bustled about or bargained, shop boys cried out their wares, and on dozens of small stoves simmered soups, filled dumplings, and fried fish. Dodging shoppers, vendors, and merchandise, Tora made for the tower.
Tomoe’s place had been taken by the soothsayer who used to occupy one of the steps on the other side. Draped in a colorful new shawl, he seemed to be doing a good business in his new, elevated location. Tora did not like the speed with which he had taken Tomoe’s place, but he knew well enough that in this world of commerce each vacancy was instantly filled by some other creature trying to scrape up enough coppers for a day’s food, while hoping to make his fortune before it was too late.
Tora preferred an honest death in battle to this futile struggle in the marketplace. Even a farmer could die contented, knowing that he had grown rice for his own family and many others besides. Poor Tomoe had gained nothing from her struggle. Tora wondered how she had managed to get her choice location. He walked around the tower. The soothsayer’s place was now taken by an amulet seller in a pilgrim’s straw hat and white robe. He was doing an even better business than the fortune-teller. Tora looked around for other regulars. There was that filthy piece of dung, the beggar, pulling at the clothes of one of the amulet seller’s customers. And the storyteller had his usual group of wide-eyed maids with young children in tow. Tora walked past a straw sandal maker who was measuring the feet of a boy as his mother haggled over the price. Beside him a young girl was selling paper fans. He didn’t see the noodle soup man at his corner across from the tower, but it was still early in the day. The mochi seller was just coming into view, moving through the crowd of shoppers with his large basket of rice dumplings strapped to his back, calling out, “Sweet dumplings, savory dumplings, fresh dumplings, bean paste dumplings.”
The sun was high and many hours had passed since Tora’s morning rice. He decided to treat himself to a dumpling while asking a few questions. The mochi man in his short pants and jacket had a prematurely lined face, and his arms and legs were sinewy and brown from walking around the market all day and kneading dough and baking his dumplings at night. His lean face broke into a smile when he saw Tora. He stopped his chant and swung the heavy basket down to the ground.
“How are you, Brother?” Tora greeted him. “One of the bean paste dumplings, please. No, make that two, and wrap up the second. My master’s little son is fond of them.” Genba was too, but Genba was getting fat, and besides Tora was low on funds at the moment.
The vendor exchanged the dumplings for some coppers, and watched Tora take a big bite out of his while tucking Yori’s into his sleeve. “You hear about Tomoe?” he asked.
Tora wiped rice flour from his mustache and nodded. “I’m the one that found her.”
The vendor’s eyes grew large. “You don’t say? Was it as bad as they say? Blood everywhere? Like some wild animal got her?”
“It was an animal all right,” said Tora, looking at his half-eaten dumpling and then tossing it toward a sleeping dog. He had lost his appetite. “But a human animal.”
“Here,” said the vendor, “what was wrong with that dumpling?”
The dog, startled awake into a growl, devoured the unexpected gift and licked his chops. “Nothing,” muttered Tora. “You shouldn’t have reminded me.”
“Oh. Well, watch it. If people see you tossing my dumplings to the dogs, it’ll hurt my business.”
“Sorry. You happen to have any idea who killed her?
The vendor chewed his lip. “We’ve been talking, some of us in the market. Seemed weird. She had nothing. Was she raped?”
“They don’t know for sure.” The question reminded Tora that he should have asked Ihara for the coroner’s report. The bastard probably wouldn’t have given it to him, but he should have tried. Then he had the uneasy thought that the report might have been among the papers he had returned without reading. He sighed. Maybe he had better sit in on Yori’s lessons.
The dumpling man said, “If she wasn’t raped, your guess is as good as mine. People here liked her. She worked hard and we all felt sorry for her.”
“Somebody didn’t. How long had she been working here?”
“About three years. She just stopped in the middle of the market and started singing. The guards fined her for working without a proper permit. After that she paid. Didn’t do much business at first. People paid no attention. Then the soothsayer gave up his place on the tower platform to her, and she started drawing a nice crowd.”
So the soothsayer had merely taken back his old place after Tomoe’s death. Tora turned to look at him and asked, “Did she have any special friends? The soothsayer, maybe?”
He got no answer. Three youngsters had come up, and the vendor was busy selling them dumplings. When he was done, he said, “I wouldn’t know about her friends. She kept to herself. I’ve got to move on or the guards will fine me.”
The mochi man only had a permit for walking about with his goods. Stationary vendors paid more and did not like competition next to their spaces or stands. Tora strolled back to the tower and stopped at the line of customers in front of the amulet seller. “What’s the big attraction?” he asked a woman, while giving the pretty girl in front of her a wink and a smile.
The girl giggled, but the woman said fervently, “His amulets are direct from Ise Shrine. The God has blessed them. It’s a lot of money”-she opened her hand, and Tora saw that it contained about twenty coppers-“but I’m scared. My little boy-better he should live than eat mochi, right?”
Seeing her poor clothes and her work-worn face, Tora asked, “Is he sick?”
“Not yet. Amida be blessed! But the sickness is everywhere. Only last week the neighbors’ baby died. Covered with hundreds of boils she was! Terrible!”
Tora began to grasp the run on amulets. A smallpox panic seemed to have started, and people were buying the small wooden tablets to protect themselves against that terrible plague. Tomoe had been pockmarked and blinded by smallpox. Once, no doubt, she had been just as pretty and lively as the giggling girl in the queue.
Tora turned away-he did not have enough money for an amulet in any case. Every time he thought of Tomoe, something twisted in his belly. His master had asked him if he had loved her, and he had said “no.” But love is not such a simple thing to explain. With Tomoe it had not been lust. He had not wanted to lie with her-even the thought made him uncomfortable. But he had wanted to hold her close, to protect her. Many times. And he mourned her death and convinced himself that the pain he felt for having failed her might ease when he found her killer.
He glanced up at the tower platform where the soothsayer sat importantly before a red silk cloth on which he cast people’s fortunes. Tora wanted to know why he had given up his spot to Tomoe.
He got in line behind a fat merchant and sat on the steps while the fat man whispered his questions and the soothsayer rustled his yarrow stalks and clinked coins. Bits of their exchange drifted back to Tora: “That’s a ‘yes’ on the travel, but the direction is not auspicious…”
“Ssh! Not so loud.” Whisper, whisper. “Profit?” Whisper. More rustlings and stirrings.
“Ah! Yes, a prosperous undertaking if you…”
Down at the bottom of the steps, the beggar had hold of a woman’s skirts. She hit him with her full basket, and he let go, shouting an obscenity after her.
The fat merchant pulled out a string of coppers and paid the soothsayer, leaving with a happy smile. Sometimes Tora wondered if soothsayers passed along only good news in hopes of a generous tip and return visits. But he believed in dreams and omens himself and thought that at least some of the diviners spoke truth. So he bowed politely to the long-faced man with his stiff black hat and the colorful shawl about his shoulders before squatting down.
The diviner looked at him carefully with rather sad eyes. “Ten coppers if by coins,” he said. “Twenty if by stalks.”
“By coins,” said Tora quickly, fingering the sad remnants of the money in his sash.
“I remember you,” said the soothsayer. “You knew Tomoe.”
Tora nodded. “I don’t suppose you could find her killer with your divining, could you?”
“My method can only give a ‘yes’ or a ‘no.’ You have to have the name of a person.”
Tora sighed. “I haven’t got one. Besides, it wouldn’t be good evidence in front of a judge anyway.”
The long-faced man raised his brows. “Oh, I don’t know. There was a murder case where they found a man guilty on the say-so of a medium. He confessed when she pointed the finger at him. Fate never lies.”
“I heard you gave this spot to Tomoe when she first started her business three years ago.”
The soothsayer nodded, still studying Tora’s face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Your face is interesting. That forehead and chin! Hmm. And the way your ears are placed. Yes. You will have a fine future.”
Tora was pleased. “You read faces, too? I thought soothsayers only used the stalks and coins.”
The soothsayer smiled. “I’m of Korean descent and my father passed some of the old skills on to me. There is not much call for it, because few people have fortunate faces. Especially lately. Yours is the first in a long time. Most faces are ordinary, and this year too many have death written on them. I warn them, and they go to buy an amulet.” The soothsayer sighed. “As if it mattered.”
Tora was puzzled by this, but decided to stick to his purpose. “About Tomoe. Why did you give her your place?”
“She bought it. Paid me handsomely for it.”
“Did you ask her where she got the money?”
“I didn’t have to. She told me she sold her mirror, since she wouldn’t need it any more. A great pity.” He shook his head. “She was a beauty.”
Tora stared at him. “A beauty?”
“Oh, yes. The bones of the face don’t change even when disease destroys the skin. I see beyond the outer shell. She was both beautiful and good. But I could tell that she was marked by death all the same.”
“You saw that?”
“Oh, yes. About a week ago. I told her to go away, far away. She believed me, but she said she needed two more pieces of silver before the end of summer.”
“What for?”
“She didn’t say.”
Tora pondered this while the diviner rearranged his divining stalks and the three copper coins. There were two people waiting. He must hurry. “Sorry to take up your time. Just one more question. Tomoe was afraid of somebody. Do you happen to know what that was all about?”
“No. She never mentioned it.” The soothsayer looked sharply at Tora, then added, “You knew her better than I. Many bad people come to this market. One kept watching her, a tall man. He looked dangerous, like a soldier, or maybe a highway man. He had a very bad face. I don’t think she knew.”
Tora fished ten coppers out of his sash. “Well, thanks anyway.” He made a move to get up.
“What about your fortune?”
“I really came about Tomoe. Besides, you already told me about my face.”
“No. You shall have your fortune. A friend of Tomoe’s is a friend of mine. Poor people must help each other. What is your question?”
“Well then, will I find Tomoe’s killer?”
The soothsayer picked up the three copper coins and showed them to Tora. “See, they have characters on one side only. If I toss them, like this, some fall face up, some face down. Face up means it’s yin or even, with a value of two. Face down is yang, or odd, with a value of three. Added up, the first throw gives us a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. If the total adds up even, it’s a ‘yes,’ if odd, a ‘no.’ ”
Tora stared at the coins. “That’s a ‘yes,’ isn’t it?”
The soothsayer nodded and smiled.
“Good!” Tora was immensely pleased. His master had never trusted the predictions of diviners and soothsayers. It was always right to do what was needful when it was needful, he used to say, whenever someone urged postponement because the time was inauspicious or the direction of a journey was forbidden. Now Tora would not only prove him wrong, but solve a murder without his master’s help.
The soothsayer said, “I think you may have unexpected troubles on the way. You must be careful.”
Tora grinned. “Don’t worry. Nothing can happen to me. You told me I have a great future.”
The soothsayer did not return his smile. “Let’s consult the gods.” He took up his bundles of yarrow stalks, separating them and placing them in strange combinations between his fingers, then laying them down and starting the process again. Tora ventured to clear his throat.
“Don’t interrupt!” growled the soothsayer.
Tora sat, wondering what was happening and wishing he could leave.
After a long time, the soothsayer sighed and gathered up his stalks. For a long while he sat looking at Tora without speaking. Then he said, “It is good and not good. You will succeed, but terrible things will come to pass.”
“What things?”
“There will be great grief. More I cannot say.” He sighed deeply. “These are evil days for many.” He scooped up Tora’s coppers and bowed. “Be safe, Tomoe’s friend.”