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The other minister glared suspiciously at Seikei, but remained silent.
    “You have seen this samurai before?” Yabuta asked the minister who had spoken.
    “He came to the palace yesterday,” the minister replied.
    “Yesterday afternoon, ” the second one added.
    “He threatened us,” the first one said.
    “Ordered, then threatened,” corrected the second one.
    Yabuta broke in. “Ordered you?” he asked. “Ordered you to do what?”
    “To give him a scroll from the palace library.”
    “Acted as if he could understand it.”
    “Said he would get the emperor to command us to give it to him.”
    “Said he would—”
    Yabuta cut off the conversation with a flick of his hand. He turned to Seikei. “Why did you ask for this scroll?”
    “The emperor . . . ,” Seikei began.
    “I thought you said he wasn’t the emperor,” Yabuta said.
    “ He said he wasn’t the emperor.” Seikei was aware that he was being made to sound foolish.
    “Go ahead,” said Yabuta. “What was on this scroll?”
    “I don’t know,” Seikei admitted. “The emperor—the boy who was here yesterday—said that the scroll would explain why he wasn’t the emperor.”
    Both of the ministers drew back in horror. “ Not the emperor?” one of them cried in a shrill voice. “That’s nonsense.”
    “Sacrilege,” added the second. He turned to Yabuta. “You should execute him for insulting the emperor.”
    “I will decide what action to take,” said Yabuta firmly. He looked at Seikei and in a silky voice said, “Tell me, what did the emperor say when you returned here?”
    “When I returned? I did not return,” said Seikei.
    “No? You told these ministers that you would obtain an order from the emperor, didn’t you?”
    “I only wanted them to show me the scroll. That’s why I said that,” protested Seikei.
    “But when they didn’t let you see it, you surely returned here to ask the emperor—”
    “And then took him away,” the first minister cried out, as if seeing the plot clearly.
    “Because he refused to give the order,” said the second one.
    “I think there is another explanation,” Yabuta said. He signaled his guards to bring someone else from the pagoda. Seikei was astounded when he saw who it was.

7
    FACING THE SHORT SWORD
    W alking down the hill, bowing respectfully at everyone he passed, was Takanori, the ronin Seikei had met on the road to Kyoto. He looked a little better than when Seikei had seen him last, apparently having benefited from a bath and a change of clothing.
    He bowed before Seikei, the two ministers, and finally—with the deepest bow of all—to Yabuta. Evidently Takanori had a good idea who was in charge here.
    “Have you ever seen this young man before?” Yabuta asked Takanori.
    Takanori looked briefly at Seikei, and replied, “Oh, certainly, Your Honor. Two days ago, on the Tokaido Road.”
    “What did you tell him?”
    “Something of great importance, sir. I told him the same thing I told you.”
    “Which was?”
    “That my daimyo, Lord Shima, had suffered a great—”
    “Not that. What else did you tell him?”
    “You mean about Lord Ponzu?”
    “Yes.” Yabuta was impatient, Seikei saw. No doubt he was very quick to use torture if he suspected someone he was questioning was too slow with the truth.
    Takanori licked his lips, trying to get this part of the story right. “Well, I reported that Lord Ponzu, whose men had killed my daimyo, was plotting an uprising against the shogun.”
    “And what did this young samurai do, ” Yabuta asked, “when you reported this startling piece of information to him?”
    “Oh, he bought me some soup.” Takanori bowed his head at Seikei to thank him again.
    “Did he tell you to come with him to Edo so you could report it to the shogun’s officials?” asked Yabuta.
    “No, he was very busy, sir. He had to get here to Kyoto in a hurry.”
    Yabuta turned to Seikei. “And when you arrived here, did you report this startling news to