The Snow Empress: A Thriller (6 page)

Lady Matsumae’s eyes were red and crazed, her hair disheveled. “None of your business,” she said in a voice harsh with rage. “Don’t interfere with things you don’t understand.”

She turned her back on Reiko and told the guards, “Get her away from me.”

The Fukuyama Castle guest quarters were in a building connected to the palace by a covered corridor. Shaded from the sun by dark fir trees, with snowdrifts halfway up its walls, the building looked desolate and forbidding. The guards marched Sano and his men into a dank, cold set of rooms. Servants came to pad the walls with woven mats, to stoke and light the charcoal braziers.

“Home away from home,” Detective Marume said.

“Don’t try anything,” Deer Antlers warned Sano as he and the other guards left. “We’ll be watching you.”

“Do they feed the prisoners in this jail?” Detective Fukida said. When more servants brought in trays of rice balls, smoked salmon, pickled radish, and tea, he said, “I don’t care much for Lord Matsumae’s manners, but he does right by his guests.”

“After he’s decided to postpone killing them,” Marume said.

As everyone ate, Sano worried about what had happened to Reiko, until two guards brought her.

She ran to Sano, knelt by him. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“Thank the gods you’re all right.” Sano held Reiko’s cold hands. “Where have you been? What happened?”

“With Lady Matsumae.” Reiko described how she’d stopped Lady Matsumae from beating the Ezo woman, and how Lady Matsumae had then attacked her. “Isn’t that strange?”

“It is.” Sano couldn’t help thinking that Reiko had been at the castle less than an hour and already gotten into a fight. He told himself he should be glad nothing worse had happened. At least so far.

“What’s even stranger,” Reiko said, “is that Lady Matsumae and her attendants and maid absolutely refused to help me look for Masahiro. I think they know something, but they wouldn’t talk. They don’t care. I never met such cold-hearted women.” She said eagerly, “What happened with Lord Matsumae?”

That was a topic Sano would rather not discuss. “He sent us food. There’s some left. Are you hungry?”

“I’ve already eaten. Did you find out what the trouble is? Did you ask him about Masahiro?” She looked at the other men, who avoided her gaze. In the silence she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Sano couldn’t hide the facts from her no matter how much he wanted to protect her. He told her as gently as possible about how the murder of his mistress had driven Lord Matsumae mad, now he claimed Masahiro had never reached the castle but Sano didn’t think he was telling the truth.

Reiko’s eyes went round with shock and horror as she understood that Lord Matsumae might have killed their son. But she only nodded; she didn’t fall apart. She never did during a crisis. Sano loved her for her bravery.

“Masahiro is alive,” she said with quiet conviction. “If he weren’t, I would know.”

If it helped her endure, Sano wouldn’t contradict what he feared was wishful thinking. He found himself heartened by her words in spite of himself. “We’ll keep looking for him.”

“But how?” A note of discouragement crept into Reiko’s voice. “There are soldiers outside. They’ve locked us in. We’re prisoners.”

“I’m hoping that will change,” Sano said, and told her about the deal he’d proposed to Lord Matsumae. “If I investigate the murder, I should have free run of this place.”

His hope lit Reiko’s face like a ray of sunshine. “Do you think he’ll agree?”

Who knew what a madman would do,
Sano thought. But he said, “Oh, yes. We just have to be patient.”

And wait until Lord Matsumae decided whether his desire for justice was stronger than his reason to kill them.

They spent the rest of the day idle in the guest quarters, keeping warm by huddling under blankets or pacing the floors. They ate the meals brought to them and took turns bathing in a tub filled by servants lugging pails of hot water. The night was the longest and coldest Sano had ever known.

Japanese architecture couldn’t match the Ezo huts in protecting humans against the weather. Drafts blew through the guest quarters. The charcoal braziers gave off inadequate whiffs of heat. Pressed close to Reiko under piled quilts, Sano couldn’t sleep even though she did, and his men snored across the hall. He missed the human noise of Edo Castle: the troops patrolling, music from parties, temple gongs ringing. Here he heard wolves howling in the forest. It was almost dawn before he fell asleep.

A short time later he was jolted awake by the presence of a stranger. Sitting up, he blinked at the figure that stood in the doorway.

“Honorable Chamberlain.” The voice was male, gritty. “Lord Matsumae wants to see you.”

Sano hoped this meant good news. “Give me a moment to dress.”

He told Hirata to come with him and the other men to stay with Reiko, who was still asleep. When he and Hirata stepped outside the building into another day of bright, eye-watering, bitter cold, the man greeted them and said, “I’m Matsumae Gizaemon. Lord Matsumae’s uncle.”

About sixty years old, he looked like a cross between a Japanese and an Ezo. He wore a deerskin coat and mittens lined with fur, and fish-skin boots. His face was as weathered and lined as the barbarians‘, his brows bushy; the eyes beneath them squinted as if from a lifetime spent looking at sun on snow. But his bare head had its crown shaved and its gray hair gathered in a topknot, samurai-style. At his waist hung the customary two swords.

Sano introduced Hirata. As they walked along the covered corridor to the palace, three guards fell into step behind them. Gizaemon said, “Sorry I wasn’t around to meet you yesterday.” He had the quick, agile gait of a much younger man. “I was away on business for Lord Matsumae.”

“What do you do for him?” Sano asked.

“Help him manage his domain. I’m his chief aide.” Gizaemon reached in his coat, took out a toothpick, and chewed it vigorously. Sano smelled the sweet, spicy odor of sassafras bark. “I inspect the trading posts. Keep the Japanese merchants in line. The Ezo, too.”

“You must know Lord Matsumae fairly well,” Sano said.

“Known him since he was born. His father was my older brother. Left his education to me. I practically raised him. He’s like my own son.” Affection and concern crept into Gizaemon’s voice. He was clearly troubled by the turn Lord Matsumae had taken.

“What’s the matter with him?” Sano asked. “Surely not just that the death of his mistress has upset him?”

“No,” Gizaemon agreed. “He’s possessed by her spirit.”

“You’re not serious?”

“Yes, I am.” Gizaemon laughed dryly. “It’s obvious that you think spirit possession is just a myth. Well, maybe that’s so in Edo. But not here. I’ve seen spirits take over people’s bodies, make them speak in tongues and jump off cliffs.” Seeing Sano’s skeptical look, he said, “Don’t believe me? Just wait till you’ve been in Ezogashima a while longer.”

“Did Lord Matsumae tell you about our meeting?” Sano asked.

“Some.” Gizaemon sounded angry, but not with his nephew. “Hell of a guest you are, coming in here and killing our men.”

“Excuse me, but Lord Matsumae isn’t exactly blameless,” Sano said evenly. “Are you aware of what he’s done?”

“Here we are,” Gizaemon said, dropping the subject of his nephew’s crimes.

“Has Lord Matsumae made a decision about my offer?”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself.” Gizaemon spat his toothpick into the snow below the corridor, then opened the palace door.

Lord Matsumae received them in his private chamber. It was furnished with the same built-in cabinets, lacquer furniture, and study alcove as any samurai official’s, with no native decor except the wall mats. Sprawled amid quilts rumpled by a restless night, he looked like a man suffering from a malignant illness. In each of his cheeks burned a spot of fever.

“Greetings, Honorable Chamberlain.” He lifted a bowl of herb tea; his hands shook as he drank. “I’ve thought about what you said yesterday. And I’ve decided to accept your offer.”

“Good,” Sano said, relieved. “My men and I will begin investigating the murder right away.” And look for Masahiro.

“Not so fast!”

The voice that came out of Lord Matsumae was high-pitched, not his own. Sano felt every hair on his body rise in a shivering tingle. He was astounded to see Lord Matsumae’s face alter. It seemed to grow younger, female.

“You can’t just go off wherever you want.” The voice had a strange accent, with inflections that Sano had heard in the Ezo language. Why should we trust you? How do we know you can find out who killed me?“

Shocked, Sano and Hirata looked at Gizaemon.

Gizaemon’s dour smile said,
I told you so.
“Better answer the question.”

Sano said, “I was once the shogun’s detective.” He was so fascinated by the stranger looking at him through Lord Matsumae that he hardly knew what he was saying. “His Excellency trusted me to solve murders for him. The presence of the spirit infected the atmosphere. Atavistic fear crept through him. ”He was satisfied with my work.“

Lord Matsumae’s face reverted to its own aspect; he spoke in his own voice: “You will tell me everything you’re going to do and get my permission in advance. You and your men won’t go anywhere without an escort.”

“Those conditions weren’t part of the deal,” Sano said, disturbed not only because he now had two taskmasters, one a figment of the imagination or a real ghost. The constraints would allow him little freedom to search for his son as well as hinder his efforts to find the killer.

“Take it or leave it!” Lord Matsumae said. Two intense lights burned in each of his eyes, from two souls.

“Very well,” Sano said, astonished into conceding.

Pacified, Lord Matsumae said, “What is your first step?”

“I would usually examine the body of the murder victim,” Sano said. But so much time had passed; the corpse must be long cremated and buried. “Since that’s not possible, maybe you could just tell me what happened-”

“It’s possible,” Lord Matsumae said, turning to his uncle. “Take them to see Tekare.”

As Gizaemon gestured Sano and Hirata toward the door, his eyes glinted with sardonic humor at their surprise. “Right this way.”

Alone in her room, Reiko climbed out of bed. It was so cold she could see her breath. She washed, dressed, and groomed herself as fast as possible and ate the meal that a servant brought her. She opened the window shutters, pushed aside the paper panel, and peeked outside.

Matsumae troops loitered on the veranda. She was desperate to look for Masahiro, but if she tried, would they stop her? Sano and Hirata had been escorted away by other troops who’d seemed not about to let them stray. Was she under the same arrest? In Edo, the rules were clear-cut. Here she felt marooned in a lawless, senseless nightmare.

There was a tap on the door. “Come in,” Reiko called.

It was the maid from Lady Matsumae’s chamber. She carried in a bundle of leather and fur. “Pardon me, Honorable Lady,” she said, bowing, “but I thought maybe you’d like these.” Her speech was carefully polite. Kneeling, she laid a fur-lined deerskin coat and hood, fish-skin boots, and leather mittens in front of Reiko.

“Thank you,” Reiko said, grateful for the maid’s kindness. She put on the garments. They were roughly made, similar to what the maid wore, and smelled gamy, but they were much warmer than the clothes Reiko had brought from Edo.

“I didn’t think
she
would give you anything,” the maid said. “Not after what happened yesterday.”

She
could only be Lady Matsumae. Reiko studied the maid, whose raised brows and tentative smile indicated eagerness to gossip. “Can you stay a while?”

“Yes.” The maid went breathy with delight. “A thousand thanks.”

“What is your name?” Reiko said.

“Lilac.”

Her eyes reminded Reiko of bright, quick butterflies looking for sweet flowers. Lilac sidled over to the dressing table and caressed Reiko’s silver comb, looking glass in the lacquer frame with jade inlays, and matching box of makeup. Awe parted her sensuous, pursed lips.

“Does Edo have lots of shops where people can buy nice things like these?”

“Yes,” Reiko said. “Haven’t you ever been there?”

“No. I was born here in Ezogashima, and I’ve never left it. My family are servants of the Matsumae clan. But I wish I could go to Edo.” Passion swelled Lilac’s voice. “More than anything in the world.”

She stepped over to the cabinet, where Reiko had stored the few clothes she’d rescued from the ship. “May I look?” she said boldly.

Reiko nodded because they’d struck an unspoken bargain that granted permission for the girl to snoop. Lilac opened the cabinet and lifted out a silk kimono patterned with a blue and silver landscape.

“So beautiful!” she exclaimed, holding it up to herself. Then she sighed. Even it I had clothes like this, there’s no place to wear them around here. And there’s nobody worthwhile to see me. How I wish I lived in the big city.“

It was time for Reiko to exact her half of the bargain. “Maybe you can answer some questions for me.”

“I’ll do my best.” Lilac gave the kimono a last caress, put it away, and knelt by Reiko.

There was a brazenness about her that put Reiko off, but Reiko was in no position to be choosy about her companion. “First, who are those Ezo women?”

“They’re concubines.”

Reiko was startled because the barbarians seemed so strange that she hadn’t imagined sexual relations between them and the Japanese. “Lord Matsumae’s?”

“No, they belong to his retainers.”

That explained why the women were in the castle even though Ezo were prohibited. “Why did Lady Matsumae get so angry at them?”

“She hates them. And I’ll tell you why.”

Lilac glanced at the open door. Across the hall, other maids were sweeping the men’s rooms. They giggled while Marume, Fukida, and the Rat flirted with them. Lilac beckoned Reiko to lean close and whispered, “She and her ladies-in-waiting think the Ezo concubines are inferior, like animals. They’re jealous because the men want them. They punish them whenever they get a chance.”

Because they couldn’t punish the men, they took out their jealousy on the concubines, Reiko realized. And the concubines couldn’t fight back because if they made trouble, they and their people would be punished. Reiko began to pity the Ezo.

“But Lady Matsumae started treating them even worse when her daughter died.”

Comprehension stole through Reiko. “When was this?”

“Last spring.”

“How old was her daughter?”

“Eight years.”

The same age as Masahiro. “Has she any other children?”

“No.” Lilac added, “Lord Matsumae adopted a cousin as his heir. She’s too old to have any more.”

At last Reiko understood why Lady Matsumae had reacted so violently when asked whether she had any children and if she knew what it was like to lose one. Reiko had unintentionally touched a raw wound. Now she pitied Lady Matsumae; she regretted her own words and the fact that she’d provoked Lady Matsumae’s cruelty toward the helpless Ezo concubine. She wondered how Lady Matsumae’s daughter had died, but shied from talking about a child’s death while her own son was missing. And she had more pressing concerns.

“I want to find my son,” she said. “Can you help me?”

Lilac drew back from Reiko. Her eagerness to please dissolved into worry.

“You know something, don’t you?” When Lilac wouldn’t meet her eyes, Reiko pleaded, “Tell me!”

“I think I saw him,” Lilac said reluctantly.

Dizzied by hope, Reiko said, “When was this? Where?”

“About a month ago. Here at the castle. A little boy, with three soldiers. I’d never seen them before.”

They had to have been Masahiro escorted by Lord Matsudaira’s men, Reiko thought. The hesitation in Lilac’s speech made it clear that she didn’t want to tell this story because the ending wouldn’t please Reiko, but Reiko had to know the truth. “What happened?” she demanded.

Lilac sighed. “Lord Matsumae’s troops brought them inside the palace, to Lord Matsumae’s chambers.”

Lord Matsumae had lied when he’d told Sano he didn’t know anything about Masahiro, when he’d claimed the boy had never reached Fukuyama City.

“I don’t know what happened in there, but…”

“Go on,” Reiko prompted, even though dread filled her.

“After a while, the troops brought out the soldiers. They had ropes wound around them, and gags in their mouths. The troops took them to the courtyard. They made them kneel down. And then-” Lilac gulped. “They cut off their heads.”

Reiko felt a terrible darkness crowding out all the light in the world. There was no reason to think that Lord Matsumae had spared her son after killing his escorts. “What about the boy?” She forced the words out past the breath caught inside her.

“I don’t know,” Lilac said. “He wasn’t with the soldiers.”

A fragile, tenuous relief seeped through Reiko. If Masahiro hadn’t been killed during the execution Lilac had seen, perhaps he was still alive. “What happened to him?” she almost didn’t dare to ask.

“I don’t know. He never came out of the palace, at least not that I saw.”

He could have been killed inside by Lord Matsumae, who’s mad enough to murder the chamberlain’s child.
The voice of her common sense taunted Reiko.
Lord Matsumae lied because he didn’t want Sano to know he’d killed Masahiro. He was sane enough to be afraid of punishment.
But Reiko’s spirit refused to believe it.

“Have you seen him again?” Reiko demanded.

Lilac recoiled, frightened by the intensity of Reiko’s gaze. “No.”

“Could he still be in the castle?” Reiko sat very still, her ears pricked, her eyes wide, mouth open, every sense straining to detect her son’s whereabouts.

“He could,” Lilac said, but she sounded more as if she wanted to please Reiko than as if she thought so.