I headed to the caravan departure point, avoiding my family’s estate. I didn’t want to see it. It was unlikely I would even recognize anyone who lived there now. Meeting Surei again, seeing the sad state of Surei’s old manor, and hearing from Akiko—all of these things brought home to me how much things had changed. All these revelations had destroyed the carefully constructed illusions that kept me from thinking overmuch about my family. Now, I couldn’t avoid facing the fact there really was nothing of my past left. My head spun.

A trip to the country suddenly seemed like a good idea.

While seeing Akiko had cheered me immensely, my improved frame of mind didn’t last long. I planned to head south along Suzaku Avenue to reach the gathering point for the caravan. However, when I got onto the road, it was impossible to move through the crowds. The imperial procession had drawn an enormous number of spectators. Suzaku was so broad an archer could hardly shoot an arrow from one side of the street to the other, but barely one-quarter of the road in the center was available for the use of the imperial procession. The rest of the boulevard was taken up by rows of brightly decorated gyusha parked wheel-to-wheel, and crowds of peasants and laborers thronged behind the carriages craning their necks to see the spectacle.

To escape the throngs, I took a back alley to where the procession would take a left turn off Suzaku onto Rokujo, the sixth major east-west thoroughfare. Rokujo Avenue was smaller than Suzaku but was still a nice wide road. The advantage for me was it ran through the city directly to the east gate, where the caravan was forming up outside the city.

Once I got onto Rokujo, the going was easier, but spectators and carriages still packed the road. I knew Surei planned to view the procession from somewhere along here, and I wondered how she would deal with the press of people.

I needn’t have concerned myself. Before long, I spotted her gyusha. Professor led a group of large, powerful men who muscled through the crowd, opening the way for her. They were headed for a location with an unobstructed view of the procession route.

I noticed another gyusha coming from the opposite direction. It was moving directly for the same spot as Surei. From the color of the sleeves draped out the window, the occupant was a noblewoman of the upper fourth rank. I moved closer to get a better view of the action.

This could be trouble.

Professor and his group ran into some of the noblewoman’s servants near the disputed position. They spent some time conferring, apparently discussing how best to accommodate both gyusha. The conversation went on long enough that I had almost reached the noblewoman’s carriage, and both gyusha had nearly arrived.

Finally, the noblewoman lost patience. She yelled to her servants, “Well, get on with it! You can’t possibly let that common slut displace me!”

She may have been a noblewoman, but she sounded for all the world like some strident fishwife hawking fresh catches in the central market. The penetrating quality of her voice was such that everyone nearby, including Professor and his group, heard her.

Oh, this isn’t going to be pleasant.

At the word slut, Professor stiffened and glared at the man in front of him. The servant tried to back away, but before he could get very far, Professor picked him up by the groin and shoulder and lifted him over his head. He lofted the screaming man into the middle of the group of the noblewoman’s servants.

What followed was a striking demonstration of the effectiveness of the monk’s unarmed combat techniques. Where Surei’s men passed, the noblewoman’s servants suffered falls, contusions, and other “accidents” that left them writhing on the ground clutching various portions of their anatomy.

Three of Surei’s men swept past the noblewoman. Her drover panicked and ran, and then something spooked the ox pulling her gyusha. It lunged forward into the crowd, sending people screaming and shoving each other trying to get out of the way of the frightened animal.

After dragging the noblewoman’s gyusha down a small side alley, the ox snapped its traces and thundered off. The gyusha came to an abrupt halt.

The noblewoman found herself stranded in the middle of a large patch of mud, with no one to get her out. I could hear her shrieking for rescue, but no one paid any attention.

The sudden passage of the gyusha and rush of people trying to avoid it started a minor riot. People shoved one another in their rush to avoid getting trampled. Others pushed back, and several fights broke out. I was caught in the middle of the mess but did my best to avoid any trouble. Still, before I managed to shoulder my way through the crowd, I was sporting several tender ribs and a sore arm.

I was in a bad humor by the time I got to the east gate. Seeing the long queue in front of the registration desk did nothing to improve my mood. Glumly, I went to the back of the line and waited.

When my turn came, the clerk, without looking up from his stack of papers, said, in a bored voice, “Surname and business?”

Presenting him with my credentials, I said, “Minamoto, Imperial Inspector.” I didn’t worry about using my family name. The Minamoto clan was so large it would be impossible for any person to know them all. While my small bit of the Minamotos had been mostly wiped out, there were hundreds of my cousins located throughout the country. Plus, it had been so long since I had last been in the capital it was unlikely anyone would recognize me.

His eyes widened, and he sat up a bit straighter. He tidied up the scrolls strewn out in front of him and picked up my papers. “Imperial Inspector? I had no idea we had any—” he said and stopped.

He continued, in a fawning tone. “Inspector, I am sorry you had to wait. You should have just come to the front of the line.” He returned my papers, added my name to the roster, and bowed. “That will be all, sir.”

As I walked away, I looked again at my paperwork.

Maybe I should keep this. Not having to wait in lines would be nice.

A stableboy led me to my mount. Surei had supplied me with a serviceable mare. I felt her legs and checked her ankles and hooves to make sure she was in good condition. She wouldn’t turn any heads, but she was a sound animal.

Someone had already saddled her, and she was ready to go. I didn’t want to spend any more time mounted than I had to, so I walked over and joined the spectators awaiting the arrival of the imperial procession and the new high priestess.

It was a bit after noon when all the formalities were completed, and the caravan began forming up. In the van were the gyusha of the high priestess and her entourage. Behind this came various merchants, drovers, and laborers.

I saw Mouse among a group of people hitching oxen and loading carts. Surei had placed him as a drover with one of the merchants. He seemed so unenthusiastic in his labors I had to stifle a chuckle. I felt sorry for him.

In addition to the high priestess and merchants with their carts, a few of us were making the trip on horseback. Most of the mounted men were members of the bushi escort for the high priestess, a group of hard-bitten warriors who looked to be more than a match for any threats we might encounter. Their leader had them off to the side running through various drills and mounted combat exercises. I took that as a sign we would be moving out soon. I secured my naginata to my horse and swung into the saddle.

Everything about the caravan seemed ready to depart, but there were four riderless horses still in the corral. Their tack was of the finest leather with inlaid gold and silver forming the characters for skill, fortune, and daring. Servants held the reins, waiting for the riders.

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Four young Imperial Guards approached the corral, laughing and joking among themselves. I finally understood the delay. The new high priestess was an imperial princess, the emperor’s niece. Her physical safety required the presence of the mounted bushi escort, but that wasn’t sufficient for protocol. A person of her exalted rank required an honor guard of nobles of suitably high birth—in this case, a captain and three lieutenants from the Imperial Guards Regiment. The captain was the youngest of the group and looked as though he had just come of age. Even the oldest of the four was barely showing a beard.

The three lieutenants smoothly mounted their horses. The captain went to the largest and most expensively outfitted animal but seemed somewhat confused about what to do once he got there. He stood gawking at the mount. The groom dropped the reins and came over to assist him.

The servant stooped and spoke softly into the captain’s ear. Putting his hands together to form a cradle, he mimed helping the captain into the saddle. The captain just looked at him. The groom spoke again. The captain placed one foot into the hands of the servant and thrust himself up and over the saddle. He ended up lying across the horse with his feet on one side and his head and chest on the other, like a sack of rice tossed onto the animal’s back.

The unattended mount, feeling the pressure on his back, walked forward out of the corral. The movement alarmed the recumbent captain, who waved his arms and kicked his feet wildly, screaming for help.

The groom sprinted to the front of the horse, grabbing for the reins. Once he brought the mount to a halt, the captain slid off the saddle, landing in the mud with a loud plop.

He struggled to his feet, still yelling. Marching to the front of the animal, he raised his right fist and struck the horse between the eyes.

The mount neighed in surprise, tossed its head, and backed away, dragging the groom with him.

The captain shouted in pain and waved his fist around. He tucked his damaged hand into his left armpit.

I was marveling at this inspiring display of equestrian prowess when I heard one of the mounted escorts behind me murmur to his fellow bushi, “The captain is the younger brother of the high priestess. They probably thought it would be a good place for him to get some ‘practical’ experience, leading the honor guard.”

His companion snickered.

The captain tried to mount again, this time with the horse safely under the groom’s control. Two servants boosted the captain into the saddle. Before taking the reins, he was careful to ensure he was firmly seated.

Quickly gaining confidence, the captain stood in the stirrups and shouted loudly to get everyone’s attention. He waved his arm, signaling the caravan to move out.

The horse took the captain’s shout as a command and trotted forward, catching the captain off-balance. He tumbled backwards out of the saddle, landing once more on his backside in the mud.

This drove him to new heights of rage. He shot to his feet and ran over to the poor horse, screaming at the top of his lungs. Nearby attendants had to physically restrain him to keep him from throwing himself at the animal in his fury. The groom busied himself with getting the frightened mount under control.

Someone better get that boy an old nag, or we are going to be here until nightfall.

In peremptory tones, the high priestess called him back to her gyusha. Even though I couldn’t make out her words, the sharp tone of voice was unmistakable. He argued with her, but in the end, he opened the door and got into the cart with her.

The honor guard took its position at the head of the caravan, and the bushi escort deployed their outriders. Merchants and laborers fell into line behind the high priestess’ carriages, and the procession finally moved out.

Oxen for gyusha and merchant carts were chosen for their even temperament and endurance, not speed. Further, each ox was guided by a drover who held the bridle and walked next to it. Our group did not travel quickly.

Even with the slow pace, we reached the town of Ōtsu, located at the southern tip of Lake Awaumi, before nightfall. The high priestess’ party (apparently my position of imperial inspector made me one of her entourage) was staying at an expensive inn located among the foothills west of town. It was far enough from the community that customers were spared the sights and sounds of the raucous inhabitants.

Stiff and sore from riding, I turned my mount over to a groom. I decided to take a walk into town to work out the cramps in my legs.

Ōtsu was the center for all the goods crossing the Inland Sea, and the waterfront was pure pandemonium. Barges loaded with rice from across Lake Awaumi waited to unload their cargoes. Carts loaded with the day’s catch of fish headed to the capital to supply the city’s insatiable appetite. Other wagons carried goods of all types for delivery to merchants in the capital.

The smell was unbelievable. The sharp aroma of hot pitch used to repair the ships warred with the eye-watering ammonia from waste products left by the draft animals. Yet the stench of these was almost lost in the overwhelming stink of rotting fish. I wasn’t up to the task of dealing with the odors, and I fled, lest my stomach rebel and I lose all the meals I had eaten at the Spring Palace. I couldn’t imagine how people lived with the reek day after day.

Ōtsu hadn’t changed in the years since I rode through with my father and brothers on our way to Kyuushuu.

It was a pesthole, a blight on the landscape. Most of the structures in town were little better than poorly constructed shacks. They would probably come apart the first time they got hit by a storm of any size. The only businesses were drinking houses, gambling dens, cheap inns, and other establishments designed to separate a traveler from his money. The inhabitants of Ōtsu were cheats, liars, swindlers, brigands, and crooks.

I wondered if the girl I met all those years ago—what was her name? Lotus Blossom?— was still there. I was an ignorant youth and she was wildly impressed by “such a brave and dashing warrior.” She wanted me to come to her room, but I was torn between loyalty to Surei and the desire to see what another woman would be like. We settled for a walk along the shore. Her confederates jumped me and robbed me of everything I owned. Even my jacket.

My brothers teased me mercilessly and threatened to tell Surei until my father started reminding them of some of their more foolish “exploits.” That put a quick end to their comments.

I didn’t know it, but common wisdom was someone from Ōtsu would rather steal his living than earn it honestly. Neighbor and foe, rich and poor, family and friend, everyone was perpetually scheming to swindle everyone else. If you were not being cheated by someone in Ōtsu, it was only because that person was too busy trying to defraud someone with more money than you.

As I was walking along the street surveying the tawdry sights of the town, I spotted Mouse headed in my direction. He had his arms around two asobi, low-class pleasure girls, one on either side. He seemed to be as comfortable in Ōtsu as a fish in water.

I headed back to the inn. A furtive movement in the shadows of an alley caught my attention. It was one of the high priestess’ ladies-in-waiting. She looked both ways down the alley before disappearing between two buildings. My curiosity aroused, I followed and peered around the corner.

She stopped at the edge of the next building and looked around again, then continued quickly along an alley between buildings. I started after her, trailing her to the edge of town. She followed a path up a hill along the edge of the lake.

What is she up to?

I waited until she was out of sight and followed. The path led to the top of the hill which afforded a spectacular view of Lake Awaumi. Nearby, a torii gate and brightly lacquered dragons marked the entrance to a shrine dedicated to the Dragon King of the Lake.

An Imperial Guards lieutenant leaned against the torii. She hurried up to him, and they put their heads together, deep in conversation.

Mouse picks up two pleasure girls, and the lieutenant seduces one of the high priestess’ attendants. Why am I the only one who is going to be sleeping alone tonight?

I was ready to leave when I saw a figure detach itself from the shadow of a nearby tree. A short, very stocky man with wild shoulder-length hair who wore an ugly brown jacket. He crept along the trail to the edge of the woods and then hid, observing the couple in the dragon shrine. I could think of no honest reason why anyone would be watching the pair.

I can’t let one of my fellow caravan members be attacked, particularly one of the high priestess' women.

I shadowed the stocky man, staying far enough back to keep both him and the shrine in sight.

The attendant left the shrine and headed back the way she came. The long-haired man ducked behind a tree as the woman passed. Feeling foolish for my melodramatic imaginings of wilderness ambuscades, I also hid when she approached.

When I looked again, the long-haired man was speaking with the lieutenant at the torii gate. I was surprised to note the lieutenant was not one of the four imperial guardsmen assigned to the high priestess’ honor guard. While it was not impossible for an imperial guardsman to be in Ōtsu for some legitimate purpose, I wondered what possible business he could have with a low-class ruffian like the man in the brown jacket. I found the entire episode curious.

As I was pondering what it all meant, the two finished their conversation. The lieutenant followed the woman to town, and the man in the brown jacket headed deeper into the forest.

I stared after them, befuddled. Trying to puzzle out what these secret rendezvous meant was giving me a headache. I wandered back to the inn.