The Shogun's Daughter (31 page)

“There’s no need for you to put it so bluntly,” Lady Nobuko said in a pitying tone. “The only person you’re hurting is yourself. But since you insist on being blunt, I will tell you that I cannot associate with a traitor or his wife.”

People associated with an accused traitor risked being implicated in his crime and sharing his punishment. Not even the shogun’s wife dared maintain a connection to Sano. But Lady Nobuko’s repudiation still rankled. Reiko despaired at how alone she and Sano were. She was also furious at the injustice of their plight.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must return to the wake,” Lady Nobuko said. She and Korika started up the path.

“No.” Reiko blocked their way. “We’re not finished talking yet.”

“What more is there to discuss?”

“Where were you last night when Yoshisato’s residence caught fire?” Reiko asked.

Affronted, Lady Nobuko said, “That is none of your business.”

“I say it is. Because my husband didn’t set the fire, and I have to clear his name by finding out who did.”

Lady Nobuko’s expression turned incredulous. “And you think it was me?”

“She didn’t do it!” Korika blurted. Horror sharpened the perpetual anxiety on her face. “Why would she?”

“She hates Yanagisawa,” Reiko said. “She thinks he killed Tsuruhime, who was like a daughter to her. What better way to get revenge on him than by killing Yoshisato?”

“For all we know, Yoshisato may be the shogun’s son and Yanagisawa really is only his adoptive father,” Lady Nobuko said. “If so, his death doesn’t compensate me for Tsuruhime’s.”

“Don’t play games with me,” Reiko said hotly. “
You
believe Yanagisawa is Yoshisato’s father. You didn’t want Yoshisato to be the next shogun or Yanagisawa to rule Japan through him. And now that Yoshisato is dead, you’ve gotten double the value for the price of one murder. You don’t need my husband to prove that Yanagisawa is responsible for Tsuruhime’s death because you think Yanagisawa has already gotten his comeuppance.”

Lady Nobuko permitted herself a smug little smile. “Yoshisato’s death was merely good luck for me. I didn’t set the fire. Maybe it was an accident. Most fires are.”

“Not this one,” Reiko said. “My husband found a smoking basket, a jar of kerosene, and some rags hidden at the scene.”

She saw uncertainty disturb Lady Nobuko, who obviously hadn’t heard about everything that had happened last night. Then Lady Nobuko’s composure returned. She said, “Even if the fire was arson, why are you accusing me? Other people besides myself probably didn’t want Yoshisato to inherit the dictatorship or Yanagisawa to control the government.”

“You have a personal grudge against Yanagisawa. He had you kidnapped and raped. My husband tried to prove it and couldn’t. Then Yanagisawa infected Tsuruhime with smallpox, according to you.” Reiko moved closer to Lady Nobuko. “What happened? Were you afraid my husband wouldn’t be able to prove Yanagisawa was responsible for that crime, either? Did you take matters into your own hands?”

Arms folded, Lady Nobuko stood her ground. “Your suppositions are ridiculous.” Her voice could have frozen boiling lye. “I did not kill Yoshisato. The very idea of my creeping around at night, setting a fire!”

She seemed to think she should be absolved of the crime because the practicalities of it were beneath her. Reiko did have difficulty picturing Lady Nobuko pouring kerosene under the heir’s residence and throwing in rags lit from the coals in the smoking basket, but she’d encountered other unlikely murderesses in the past.

“Then answer my question,” Reiko said. “Where were you last night?”

“In my bedchamber, asleep,” Lady Nobuko said.

“She was,” Korika hastened to say. “I have the room next to hers. She never left.”

“Of course you would vouch for her,” Reiko said. “She’s your mistress.”

“She’s telling the truth. I was awakened by the fire bells. The noise made my head ache terribly. I called Korika. She spent the rest of the night nursing me,” Lady Nobuko said. “This conversation is finished.”

She and Korika started up the path. This time Reiko stepped aside. It was no use trying to badger a confession out of Lady Nobuko. The frail old woman was too strong-minded. And she might be innocent.

But Reiko perceived that Lady Nobuko was ruthless and clever enough to have hired someone to set the fire. A wild, helpless fury seized Reiko as the wind blew rain on her. She called after Lady Nobuko, “I will exonerate my husband—I swear. You’d better hope you never need another favor from us.”

31

YANAGISAWA STOOD OUTSIDE
Lady Someko’s chamber. Her sobs quieted to whimpers. The physician came out with his medicine chest and said, “I gave her a potion. She’ll be asleep soon.”

“Good.” After the physician left, Yanagisawa lingered in the corridor. Moments passed before he realized what he was doing. He was waiting for Yoshisato.

He had a strange, irrational notion that Yoshisato was still alive. Maybe it was because he hadn’t actually witnessed Yoshisato’s death. He couldn’t believe that one of those grisly corpses was Yoshisato. A stubborn part of him thought Yoshisato was coming back.

Yanagisawa shook his head at himself. He couldn’t hang around wishing for the impossible. He had to go back to the funeral, put up a strong front, and make sure his faction didn’t desert him. But as he walked through the empty guesthouse, he slowed outside Yoshisato’s room. He experienced an overpowering sense that Yoshisato was there. His heart leaped. He looked through the doorway. The room was empty, but the atmosphere vibrated with Yoshisato’s presence, as if Yoshisato had just left. Yanagisawa could almost smell his fresh, youthful scent and hear the echo of his sardonic voice. Joy gave way to consternation.

Was Yoshisato’s death driving him mad?

At the sound of footsteps in the corridor, hope resurged. Yanagisawa rushed out of the room and bumped into Kato Kinhide from the Council of Elders. He shouted.

“Sorry if I frightened you,” Kato said.

Yanagisawa could barely contain his disappointment. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw the scene Lady Someko made at the funeral.” Apprehension tinged the disgust on Kato’s flat face. “Is she under control?”

“For the time being.”

“That’s not good enough. You should get rid of her.”

Kato was right, but Yanagisawa balked at the idea of killing Lady Someko. He hated her viciousness, and at this moment he couldn’t even imagine desiring her sexually, but she was Yoshisato’s mother. She was his only connection with Yoshisato.

“I can’t,” Yanagisawa said. “She’s the only person who can say for sure that the shogun is Yoshisato’s father. That still matters even though Yoshisato is dead.” Again he had that irrational feeling that Yoshisato was nearby, alive. He couldn’t breathe a hint of it to Kato, who would think he was losing his mind. “If the shogun stops believing Yoshisato was his son, he’ll be furious, and you and I and all our friends had better prepare to die.”

“She’s the only person who can say for sure that the shogun isn’t Yoshisato’s father.” Kato obviously suspected the truth. “She’s dangerous.”

“I can take care of her,” Yanagisawa assured himself as well as Kato.

“You’d better take care of Sano, too. As long as he’s alive, he’ll cause you trouble.”

Yanagisawa responded indignantly. “I tried to take care of him. You and the other elders stopped me. Why? Don’t tell me you really think Sano might be innocent and he should get a fair trial.”

“Some people are still sympathetic toward Sano. You don’t want them to think you’re rushing to frame him.”

“Not many. They can’t hurt me,” Yanagisawa scoffed.

“You’re wrong. The political situation has changed drastically since yesterday,” Kato said. “Ienobu is the heir apparent again. The next battle will be you fighting him for control of the regime. You can’t afford to offend Sano’s friends. You need to get them on your side.”

Vexed because Kato was right again, Yanagisawa said, “How would you have me do that?”

“When Sano goes to trial, make the case against him so conclusive that everybody will believe he’s guilty. Then nobody will take offense at his death. His former allies will join your camp. Ienobu has the advantage of being the shogun’s nephew, but he’s repulsive. You aren’t. Never underestimate the power of good looks.”

Yanagisawa hesitated, torn between his craving for immediate revenge against Sano, his need to shore up his political position, and his urge to search for Yoshisato.

“You lost a war ten years ago,” Kato reminded him. “You should strengthen your forces as much as possible for this one.” The slits of his eyes gleamed with fear for himself. “Do you really want your hatred for Sano to push you into hasty action and then gamble that you’ll be able to pull off another comeback?”

Yanagisawa sighed, conceding to reality.

“Look at it this way,” Kato said. “You can make Sano suffer for a little while longer before he dies. Pile the mud on his name. He’ll be the most despised criminal in Japan.”

*   *   *

“WELL, LOOK WHO’S
here, right on time,” Tahara said to Hirata.

“We thought you wouldn’t show up,” Kitano said.

They and Deguchi sat on the bank of a canal in the Kanda district, under an overturned wooden boat that sheltered them from the rain. Kanda had been hit hard by the earthquake. Houses, embankments, and bridges had collapsed. Ruins still lay everywhere. Rebuilding had barely started. Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi were the only people Hirata saw.

“Why wouldn’t I show up?” Dismounting from his horse, Hirata avoided looking at Deguchi, who avoided looking at him. They mustn’t let Kitano and Tahara guess that they were now in league against the secret society.

“You haven’t exactly been enthusiastic about working with us,” Kitano said. He and Tahara and Deguchi crawled out from under the boat.

“I’ve decided to quit fighting you and enjoy the benefits of being in the society,” Hirata said as nonchalantly as he could.

“Will wonders never cease?” Eyes twinkling, Kitano clapped Hirata on the back.

The four men walked to the canal’s edge. The government had cleared most of the waterways, but this was a narrow branch in what had been a poor neighborhood. It was a swamp clogged with broken boats, a fallen bridge, collapsed houses, and other debris, all blanketed by a green scum of algae. Gnats and mosquitoes buzzed. The men began to breathe in slow, deep rhythm. Mystical powers started to flow. Hirata’s lungs expanded his ribs; his heartbeat accelerated to a thunderous drumming. The blood in his veins swelled with invigorating forces. He chanted an ancient Chinese magic spell. His nerves and muscles tingled. He felt a stiffening sensation as the physical, mental, and spiritual energies within him gathered and aligned. He and Deguchi, Tahara, and Kitano extended their hands toward the canal.

Invisible rays of energy shot from their fingertips. The air around the rays shimmered; raindrops vaporized. Jolts shook Hirata as his power locked onto objects in the canal. He and the other men slowly raised their hands. Boards and stones levitated. They hung in the air, dripping water. The men gestured, wafting the debris toward the opposite bank. They cut off the flow of power long enough for the debris to fall on the ground. They brought up furniture and pieces of the bridge. They gasped as fatigue began to set in. Levitation required a lot of energy. Up came more debris. The water level dropped. Something big was hidden below the surface. As Hirata and the other men strained to lift it, his fingertips burned as if they were on fire. The thing slowly rose.

It was an oxcart filled with water that streamed out of cracks in the bottom. Ropes tied to the yokes stretched under the heavy weight of two dead oxen. Decayed meat clung to the skeletons. The men let the whole mess drop on the bank. The spell broke. Panting, they collapsed. Sweat poured from Hirata. He and the others lay still, their eyes shut, their mouths open, swallowing rain to cool their parched throats.

“I hope General Otani has a good reason for putting us through that,” Tahara said.

“Maybe he’ll tell us what it is at the ritual tomorrow,” Kitano said.

Alarm snapped Hirata’s eyes open. He raised himself on his elbow. The other men sat up. He smelled the stench of the ox carcasses. “Another ritual? Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Tahara said. “Something wrong?”

Hirata glanced at Deguchi. The priest was looking at him in naked horror. “No,” Hirata said, trying to sound unconcerned. “I’m just wondering why so soon.”

Tahara and Kitano didn’t catch Deguchi’s expression. Kitano said, “It’s time.”

Neither Hirata nor Deguchi could risk going into a trance. General Otani would know they’d banded together against him and Tahara and Kitano. He would kill them both. But they had to pretend to go along with Tahara and Kitano and not arouse their suspicion.

“All right,” Hirata said. Deguchi nodded. “When tomorrow?”

“The hour of the snake,” Tahara said.

“In the morning?” Hirata said, alarmed because he and Deguchi had less than a day to prepare for killing Tahara and Kitano.

“There’s no rule that says all rituals have to be done at night,” Tahara said.

“Let’s go back to town and have a drink,” Kitano said. He and Tahara stood.

Hirata glanced at Deguchi, then groaned and lay down again. “I’m not ready to move yet.” Deguchi lay down, too, shutting his eyes.

“See you tomorrow morning,” Kitano called as he and Tahara rode away on their horses.

Hirata and Deguchi waited until the sound of hoofbeats faded. They sat up and turned to each other. Deguchi raised his eyebrows, spread his palms, and opened his mouth in a mute demand:
What are we going to do?

“We’ll kill them when they come for the ritual,” Hirata decided.

How?

They needed more than will or luck to kill Tahara and Kitano. Hirata dragged himself to his feet. “We’d better go make some preparations.”

*   *   *

THE HEIR’S RESIDENCE
was a pile of blackened timbers, cracked roof tiles, and cinders drenched by the rain. Masahiro walked through the grounds, which were awash in sooty puddles. He smelled burned meat under the odor of smoke. He held his nose, trying not to throw up. He didn’t want to go where he’d seen the corpses of Yoshisato and the other men. But he must look for clues. This was the most important investigation ever, no time to be a sissy. Unless he and his mother found out who’d set the fire, his father would be convicted of arson and put to death.