Free The Fires of the Gods by I. J. Parker Page B

importance that he saw no need to hide his own motive or his relationship with another man’s wife. ‘I take it that the lady has influence at court on her own account?’
    Ono was still irritated. He snapped, ‘Naturally. Kiyowara owed his position to her. The Minamoto daughters were raised to be great ladies, perhaps empresses. Their education and refinement are superb. Her sister is married to Yorimichi.’
    Meddling in the affairs of the
kuge
, those of the highest rank in the nation, was like playing with fire, and Ono clearly considered his continued interest offensive. Akitada changed the subject. ‘Speaking of Lord Yorimichi, is he aware of the rumors about the rash of fires in the city?’
    The poet relaxed a little. ‘Dear heavens, yes. They said the Biwa mansion would burn. Michinaga’s daughter and grandson, the retired emperor, reside there. Both Michinaga and Yorimichi went to touch their heads to the ground before the Buddha and prayed for rain. Well, there was a big fire, and then there was rain. They saved most of the palace. It is clear that the gods inspired the rumors.’ There was a pause, during which Ono stared at Akitada. ‘Fire,’ he said after a moment. ‘Now that you mention it, fire has great poetic possibilities. My own ancestress, Komachi, wrote that she was consumed by the fire of her passion. So powerful.’ His eyes grew distant. ‘I must discuss fire with Hiroko’s cousin Aoi. Yes, the sacred fire for purification – or destruction, leaving nothing but ashes – ashes to be blown away by the winds – thewinds of fate.’ He swept out an arm to describe vast distances, then tapped his mouth with a forefinger and fell into an abstraction.
    Akitada tried to find something to break the spell, but Ono blinked after a moment and focused on him again.
    ‘Umm,’ he said, ‘a very pleasant chat, my dear fellow, and so kind of you to stop by, but you can see I’m dreadfully pressed for time. You must forgive me.’
    Akitada went home, not much wiser about Kiyowara’s murder and at a loss how to proceed. He changed into his old clothes and then looked in on Tamako. She was sleeping, her maid Oyuki sitting nearby sewing some tiny clothes. Seeing the small garments moved him deeply, but he was not sure if they made him happy or afraid.
    He spent several hours sorting through his papers, separating ministry materials and boxing them, and looking for forgotten promises. He had never sought preferment as a reward for helping someone, but most officials relied on just that sort of thing to protect their positions or win better ones. From time to time men had thanked him, adding that he might call on them for future benefits. But he knew it was a hopeless task. He had ignored all such offers, even received some with stiff disapproval perhaps. Now that he needed help, they would claim ignorance.
    Discouraged, Akitada fled outside to see if Tora was home. He found him on the small veranda behind his and Hanae’s living quarters. He was playing with his son, swinging the baby up and down as the child gurgled with laughter. Akitada’s spirits lifted.
    ‘Careful,’ he cried out, when the baby’s head nearly hit the roof overhang.
    Tora turned, laughing and cradling his son against his chest. ‘Did you want me, sir? I just got home, and Hanae was needed in the kitchen.’
    ‘No, no. I came for a chat.’ Akitada sat down, dangling his feet over the edge of the veranda. ‘How Yuki has grown! He’ll surely be a big man like his father.’
    Tora grinned. Holding the baby away, bare legs kicking, he looked him over proudly. ‘Better than looking like his mama. Not that it’s not very fetching in a female. Will you hold him, sir, while I get us some wine?’
    The baby was bare-bottomed, but Akitada received himgladly, almost reverently. Yuki was a fine boy and a happy child. His parents doted on him. He settled the baby, pleased that he did not cry in his arms, and fell, willy-nilly, to cooing