The Cloud Pavilion (2 page)

Sano stood perfectly still as the samurai walked across the martial arts ground toward him. Everyone else receded to the edges of his awareness. Sano felt as if he and the samurai were alone on the muddy, trampled field. He suppressed an irrational urge to draw his sword. Its blade was wooden, and this encounter wasn’t a duel.

Then again, perhaps it was.

The samurai stopped a few paces from Sano. He was in his sixties, his physique lean but strong, his shoulders held squarely rigid. He wore a metal helmet, and a leather armor tunic with the Tokugawa triple-hollyhock-leaf crest embossed on its breastplate over a silk robe and trousers striped in dark gray and black. An insignia on his helmet showed that he held the rank of major in the army. His forehead was severely creased, as if from too much frowning. Harsh lines bracketed his tight mouth.

“Good day,” he said, bowing. “Please permit me to introduce myself.” His deep voice had a faint quaver of old age and an oddly familiar ring. “I am Kumazawa Hiroyuki.”

“I know,” Sano said.

He’d never met Major Kumazawa face-to-face; they’d never spoken. But he’d observed the man from a distance and knew everything about him that the official government records, and Sano’s own spies, could tell. In Sano’s desk was a dossier on the entire Kumazawa clan. Sano had compiled it after a murder investigation that had revealed secret facts about his own background.

His parents had led him to believe that his mother came from humble peasant stock. Not until last spring, when she’d been accused of a crime hidden in her past, had Sano learned the truth: Her kin were high-ranking Tokugawa vassals. They’d disowned her because of a mistake she’d made when she was a girl, and she’d never seen them again.

Now Sano felt a flame of anger heat his blood. Major Kumazawa was the head of the clan that had treated Sano’s mother so cruelly. Sano said, “Do you know who I am?”

Major Kumazawa didn’t pretend to misunderstand, didn’t give the obvious answer that everybody knew the famous Chamberlain Sano. “Yes. You are the son of my younger sister Etsuko.” He spoke as if the words tasted bad. “That makes you my nephew.”

It was just as Sano had suspected: Although he had long been ignorant of his connection with the Kumazawa, they had been aware that their blood ran in his veins. They must have kept track of his mother and her son through the years; they must have followed his career.

The flame of Sano’s anger grew. The Kumazawa had spied on him and never deigned to seek his acquaintance. That casting off his mother and refusing to recognize her offspring was what any high-society family would have done under the circumstances did not appease Sano. He was insulted that his uncle should treat him with such disdain. He also experienced other emotions he hadn’t expected.

Since learning about his new relatives, he had intended to get in touch with them, but kept putting it off. He was busy running the government and advising the shogun; he didn’t have time. Or so he’d told himself. But he’d entertained secret fantasies about summoning his uncle to his mansion and impressing him with how well he had done without any help from their clan. The fantasies shamed Sano; he knew they were childish. Now, here he was, face-to-face with his uncle, soaked with water polluted by horse dung. He felt less like the shogun’s second-in-command than an outcast.

“I don’t suppose you approached me in order to inquire about my mother,” he said in his coldest, most formal tone.

“No,” Major Kumazawa said, equally cold. “But I will ask. How is she?”

“Quite well.”
No thanks to you
, Sano thought. “She was widowed eleven years ago, when my father died.”
My father was the
r
nin—
the lowly masterless samurai—that your family forced her to marry, to get her off your hands.
“But she remarried last fall.”
To the man with whom she had an illicit affair, the results of which caused your clan to disown her.
“She and her new husband are living in Yamato.”

The murder investigation had re united Sano’s mother with the onetime monk she’d fallen in love with as a girl. Loving him still, she’d happily given up her home and her old life in Edo to join him in the village where he’d settled.

“So I’ve heard,” said Major Kumazawa. “Of course, I’m not responsible for what became of your mother.”

Sano was glad she’d found happiness after years of disgrace and misery inflicted by her relatives, but she’d left him with unfinished business. “Not directly responsible, perhaps.”

Major Kumazawa frowned, deepening the wrinkles in his forehead, at Sano’s bitter tone. “My father disowned Etsuko. When he died and I became head of the clan, I merely honored his wishes. Were you in my position, you’d have no choice but to do the same.”

Sano didn’t think he’d have been so unyielding for the sake of mere convention. He knew it was unreasonable for him to be disturbed about something that had happened so long ago, which his mother had forgiven. Yet he felt that a personal injury had been done to him by Major Kumazawa. He had the strange sensation that they’d met before, although he knew they had not.

“So you upheld your family’s ban on contact with my mother, which extended to me,” Sano said. “Why break it now?”

Major Kumazawa spoke reluctantly, as if fighting an internal struggle against tradition and duty. “Because I need a favor.”

“Ah,” Sano said. “I should have guessed.” Since he’d become chamberlain, thousands of people had lined up outside his door to ask for favors. Sano regarded his uncle with disgust.

“Do you think I like crawling to you, the son of my disgraced sister?” Major Kumazawa said, angry himself now. “Do you think I want to ask you for anything?”

“Obviously not,” Sano retorted, “so I’ll spare you the grief.”

He turned and started to walk away toward the gate in the stone wall that enclosed the martial arts ground. Beyond the gate lay the shogun’s palace, the official quarter, and Sano’s own spacious compound—the rarefied world in which he’d earned a place. He wasn’t even curious about what his uncle wanted. It had to be money, a promotion, or a job for a friend or relative. It always was.

“Wait. Don’t go,” Major Kumazawa called.

The anger had disappeared from his voice, which now resonated with such pleading that Sano halted. “I can understand why you don’t like me or want to help me,” Major Kumazawa said. “But the favor I need isn’t for my benefit. It’s for someone who had nothing to do with what happened to your mother, who’s never done wrong to you or anybody else. Someone who is in serious danger.”

That got Sano’s attention. His conscience and his honor wouldn’t let him walk away from an innocent person in danger. Facing his uncle, he said, “Who is it?”

The sternness of Major Kumazawa’s expression had hardened, as though he were trying to keep his emotions at bay. “It’s my daughter.”

Sano knew that Major Kumazawa had three daughters and two sons—Sano’s cousins. All of whom Sano had never seen.

“Her name is Chiyo,” Major Kumazawa said. “She’s my youngest child.”

“What about her?” Sano recalled her name from the dossier. She was thirty-three years old, the wife of a captain in the army of a rich, powerful
daimyo
. She’d married very late, at age twenty-seven. Informants had told Sano that she was her father’s favorite and Major Kumazawa had delayed her marriage to keep her at home while he found her the best possible husband.

“She’s missing,” Major Kumazawa said.

Sano remembered that terrible winter when his own son had been kidnapped, and he and his wife, Reiko, had suffered the pain of not knowing what had happened to their beloved child while fearing the worst. His resistance toward his uncle began to crumble.

“I know Chiyo is none of your concern, but please hear me out,” Major Kumazawa said with the gruffness of a man unaccustomed to begging.

“All right.” Sano had to listen; he owed his uncle that, if nothing else.

“Chiyo disappeared the day before yesterday. She had gone to the Awashima Shrine.” Obviously relieved that Sano had given him another chance, yet hating his role as a supplicant, Major Kumazawa explained, “She gave birth to a child last month. A boy.” It was the custom for mothers to take their new babies to shrines to be blessed. “She went with her attendants. There was a big crowd at the shrine. One moment Chiyo was there, and the next . . .”

Major Kumazawa held up his palms. “Gone.” Anguish showed through his rigid expression.

Whenever Sano thought of the night his son, Masahiro, had disappeared—during a party at a temple—he shivered. “What happened to the baby?”

“He was found lying outside the shrine. Thank the gods he’s safe,” said Major Kumazawa. “Chiyo’s guards couldn’t find her. They went home and told her husband what had happened. He told me. We both gathered all the troops we could and sent them out to search for Chiyo. They’re still out looking, but there’s been not a sign of her. It’s as if she just vanished into the air.”

Sano knew that his uncle commanded a Tokugawa garrison outside Edo, and Chiyo’s husband must have many men serving under him, but the city was too big for them to cover thoroughly. “Did you report Chiyo’s disappearance to the police?”

“Of course. I went to their headquarters. They took my report and said they would keep an eye out for her.” Major Kumazawa expelled his breath in a disdainful huff. “They said that was all they could do.”

The police had their hands full keeping order in the city, Sano knew. They couldn’t drop everything to search for one woman, even if her father was a Tokugawa army officer. A major didn’t rate high enough.

“Could Chiyo have run away on her own?” Sano asked.

“That’s impossible. She wouldn’t have left her children and husband without so much as an explanation.”

“I suppose you’ve considered the possibility that Chiyo was kidnapped,” Sano said.

“What else could I think?” Worry about his daughter showed through Major Kumazawa’s sarcasm. “People don’t just drop off the face of the earth.”

“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Chiyo?”

“Nobody. She’s a good, decent, harmless girl.”

“Do you have any enemies?” Sano asked.

“Every man with some standing in the world has enemies,” Major Kumazawa said. “You of all people should know that. I talked to a few men who have grudges against me, but they insisted that they had nothing to do with Chiyo’s disappearance. I think they’re telling the truth. They treated me as if I’d gone insane,” he added morosely.

“There’s been no ransom letter?”

“No letter,” Major Kumazawa said. “I’m at my wits’ end. You have a reputation as a great detective. That’s why I’ve come to you—to ask you to find my daughter.”

Sano could not refuse, for reasons almost as important as saving a woman in peril. His son, Masahiro, wasn’t the only member of his family who’d been kidnapped. So had his wife, Reiko, seven years ago. Had Sano not managed to rescue her, he would have lost his wife and Masahiro his mother. Sano couldn’t withhold his help from another family facing a similar disastrous situation.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Major Kumazawa said. “You’re bitter about the past. But don’t hold it against Chiyo. She wasn’t even born when my parents disowned your mother. She had no say in the matter of our clan keeping ourselves apart from you. For her sake, not mine, please help me. Do you want me to beg? I will. I’ll do anything to save my daughter!”

Major Kumazawa dropped heavily to his knees, as if the tendons behind them had been slashed. Alone on the muddy field, he looked like a general who’d lost a battle and must commit suicide rather than live with the disgrace. He took off his helmet. The damp wind ruffled gray hair that had escaped from his topknot. For once he seemed human, vulnerable. He gazed up at Sano, his eyes fierce with entreaty and humiliation.

Sano had once imagined forcing his uncle to kneel to him, subjugating the man who’d maintained his mother’s banishment from her family. But now he felt no satisfaction. He had too much sympathy for Major Kumazawa’s plight.

“Very well,” Sano said. “I’m at your service.”

He had wanted a chance to know his new clan, and here it was. Perhaps he could even re unite his mother with her family, which he knew she’d always longed for.