Tora hoped he was wrong, but then Kata said, “Search both of them.”
Of course they found Matsue’s document. They passed it to Kata, who glanced at it and passed it to Matsue.
Matsue stared at it and then at Tora. “So,” he said, “you’re a snoop and a thief. There’s more to this than looking for the blind bitch’s killer. I’m going to enjoy getting the truth out of you before I kill you.”
The beggar was next. He squealed with outrage when they took away the pouch he carried on the rope that held up his pants. The pouch contained a large number of coppers and two pieces of silver. Kata was about to put them back when he looked more closely at one of the silver pieces. “Matsue,” he said, “have a look.”
Matsue looked. “Two characters are missing. Is that the one you gave her?”
Kata nodded. He kept the coin and threw the pouch back at the beggar. Then he turned to Tora. “You’re not stupid, whoever you are. You know we can’t let you go.” He gestured and the men around Tora stepped back.
Tora scanned implacable faces. Only Kinjiro cowered in a corner, his eyes wide with terror. “What’re you going to do?” Tora asked hoarsely.
Nobody answered. The others, even the whimpering beggar, had become very quiet. The silence was heavy with anticipation. Tora had witnessed it only once before when he was a soldier and had attended the execution of a deserter. Just like the condemned man’s comrades, they all knew what was next. He saw it in their faces. They looked back with avid eyes, moistened their lips, waited for his futile panic when Kata or Matsue would give the signal.
But instead the silence was broken by a knocking on the street doors. “Sensei?”
One of Kata’s men cursed; another said, “It’s the students.”
Kata gave brisk orders. “Tie them both up and lock them in the shed until tonight. I want a watch kept on them.”
When the beggar tried to protest too loudly, Matsue knocked him out with a brutal blow to the temple. Tora allowed himself to be bound. They hobbled his legs and tied his wrists behind his back, looping the rope around his neck in such a way that he could not move his arms without strangling himself. Then they took him and the bound and unconscious beggar to the small shed where Tora had been left earlier. This time they locked the shed door and left a guard outside.
Tora did not waste time on self-recrimination. He considered his options. The trouble was, there did not seem to be any. His movements were restricted by the rope around his neck, and outside a guard was leaning against the locked shed door. The beggar was either dead or still unconscious. If the latter, he would come around soon and certainly raise an alarm if he saw Tora attempting to escape. Tora wondered why they had not been gagged, but realized that the guard outside could cut off any noise before it would disturb the neighbors who, probably knew better than to pay attention to the goings-on here.
The shed was flimsily built and old. No doubt a board or two could be loosened someplace, but how was he to accomplish this? And what was the alternative? To lie here, waiting patiently for the lessons to be over so the cutthroats could kill him without attracting too much notice? What with the amnesty and the raging epidemic in the city, nobody would bother to investigate two more bodies left in a ditch somewhere.
Tora decided to work on his bonds. The worst was the rope around his neck. He had to find a way to loosen that enough to allow himself some freedom to work on his wrists. He tried various contortions, but he only tightened the knots even more.
Breathing hard, he rested and thought about his bonds. He might get more slack in the rope if he knelt and arched his body backwards. Perhaps he could then reach the knot at his ankles. He managed to kneel, but there was not enough give to allow him to move his bound hands, though he could breathe a little more easily. On the other hand, the pain in his back, shoulders, and neck got worse.
They had tossed him down near the pile of sacks and boxes. He shuffled over on his knees to investigate it. The boxes were useless, but there was something hidden under the sacks.
How to move the sacks? Eventually he used his teeth and a slow and painful backward shuffle to drag off one sack at a time. The rope cut off his breath, choking him, and his neck and arm muscles went into spasms so that he had to rest several times, but he persisted and uncovered a large earthenware water jar. Such useful utensils are not abandoned in derelict sheds, but this one appeared to have sprung a leak. A thin crack ran down one side to the bottom.
Unfortunately, the jar was no more help than the boxes or sacks. If it were broken, it might be a different story. Shards had sharp edges and could be used to saw through rope. Tora was not sure how he could manage such a thing, but it was a moot point since he had no way of breaking the jar.
Defeated, he flopped down across the sacks to think about his chances of escaping once they came for him. Short of a miracle, they were nonexistent. He was forced to consider the jar again. He had neither tools nor the use of his hands, and his feet were hobbled too closely to allow him to kick the jar apart. But he could try to break it with his weight.
He checked on the beggar, who had not moved.
Getting up on his feet-not an easy thing to do-he shuffled into position and backed up. Then he sat down with as much force as he dared use with the guard outside. Pain stabbed his back and posterior, but the jar survived. He suppressed a groan, checked the beggar’s motionless figure, and scrambled up again to repeat the process. After the fifth attempt, he heard a faint cracking. On the next try, the jar collapsed. For a moment it felt as though a dozen knives had been stuck into his back and backside. He gritted his teeth and listened. The guard outside had taken to walking back and forth. He was muttering under his breath but appeared unaware of activity in the shed. Tora rolled off the jar and waited until some of the pain receded. The jar had become a pile of smaller pieces, with one large shard pointing upward from the flat bottom. He ignored the warm wetness seeping through his pants and maneuvered the shard into a corner by pushing it with his head, then backed up and brought his wrists up against it.
He needed to rub the rope against the upright shard until it parted-easier thought of than done. The shard kept moving and tipping. Since he could not see it, he had to turn around each time to check what had happened and to reposition it. Meanwhile, the rope-a strong new one-gave no signs of parting. The shard caught his skin more often than it did the rope until his hands were slippery with blood.
To make matters worse, the beggar started muttering and moaning in his corner.
Suddenly there was a scratching against the back wall of the shed, and a soft “Ssst.” Tora hissed back and waited. After a moment, Kinjiro’s voice whispered, “Tora?”
“Yes.” The beggar seemed to have drifted off again.
“Can you get loose?”
Tora could not, but whispered, “I’m working on it.”
“I’ll try to get rid of the guard.”
Tora did not know what to say. What could Kinjiro do? More to the point, what would they do to him if he were caught? He whispered, “Be careful,” but the boy had already gone.
He worked his wrists up and down feverishly. Outside Kinjiro was striking up a conversation with the guard. “Kata Sensei says to cover for you if you want to relieve yourself.”
“Kind of him,” grumbled the man. “I’m about to burst. That snack I had in the market didn’t agree with me. I’ve been stepping from one foot to the other forever.”
His rapid footsteps receded.
Tora heard Kinjiro working the lock. The lad seemed to be trying out keys. There was not much time. If Kinjiro could not open the shed quickly, the guard would be back, and their chance would be lost. He leaned into his labors with total concentration, ignoring the pain in his wrists, ignoring the choking halter around his neck, ignoring the cramping muscles in his arms and back. Outside Kinjiro cursed. Things were not going well. Tora made one more desperate effort, and this time he thought he felt the rope ease a little. Once more, and yes, a definite easing! Then several strands parted. He was almost there. He glanced at the beggar. The man’s eyes were open and watching him.