held his dinner of soup, rice balls, pickles, and grilled fish. By the food lay a folded paper.
“The boss thought you should see this.” The maid pointed at the paper, then left.
Yanagisawa read the paper, an announcement torn off a public notice board. The shogun’s companion, Yanagisawa Yoritomo, has been arrested for treason. His trial will take place tonight at the hour of the dog. If he is pronounced guilty, he will be put to death at the Kotsukappara execution ground at noon tomorrow.
“No!” Disbelief and shock punched the breath out of Yanagisawa. Here was the reason Yoritomo hadn’t come. Yanagisawa reread the notice, seeking an explanation of why his son was suspected of treason and who had arrested Yoritomo. But the space between the lines remained maddeningly blank.
Yanagisawa’s heart drummed in his ears, pumping currents of panic through his body. Had someone found out that he’d returned from exile? If so, who? Had whoever it was also discovered that Yoritomo was conspiring to put his father back in power?
Whatever the answers the trial would have been finished hours ago. It would surely have ended in a guilty verdict, as most trials did. The thought of his son imprisoned, alone, and terrified, helplessly awaiting death, made Yanagisawa shout in rage. He crumpled the notice, flung it across the room, and jumped to his feet. He must take action.
A premonition of danger startled Reiko. She bolted upright, fully awake, her heart racing. A strangled cry sounded in the darkness. The door slid open, and she saw the figure of a man enter the room. The faint light that shone through the paper-paned lattice wall glittered on the blade in his hand. Reiko instinctively snatched up her own sword. As the man loomed over her, she thrust the weapon at him with all her might.
A grunt like that of a wounded animal erupted from him. He thudded across her legs. Masahiro woke up and cried, “Mama!”
The man writhed on the bed, atop Reiko and Midori and Akiko. She smelled his leather armor, sour breath, and sweat. Midori said, “What?” in a sleepy voice. Akiko began to keen. Reiko saw the man thrashing. Her sword protruded from his belly.
“Mama, you got him!” Masahiro shouted.
But the man raised himself. His hand still held his dagger. He lunged at Masahiro, weapon raised. Masahiro yelled. Reiko sprang up and grabbed the assassin’s wrist. They fell onto Akiko and Midori.
“What’s going on?” Midori said as Reiko fought with the assassin. Akiko began to cry. “Who is that?”
The man was too big and muscular for Reiko to overcome. He threw her off him as if she weighed nothing. When she leaped at him again, he backhanded her jaw.
Reiko’s head rang. As she fell backward, she heard Akiko crying and Midori calling, “Help! Help!” The floor shook. Reiko pushed herself up on her elbows. Human shapes moved across her blurred vision. She blinked and saw the assassin chasing Masahiro. The boy sped past Reiko. The assassin followed, staggering. Reiko focused on her sword that still stuck out of the assassin’s belly. She grabbed its hilt with both hands and pulled.
The man roared in agony as the blade ripped free of his flesh. He dropped to his knees. Reiko lashed the sword at him. The blade cut into his throat. He made an awful, gurgling noise. A hot, wet spew of blood drenched Reiko. The assassin collapsed with a crash.
“Mama! Good work!” Masahiro exclaimed.
He was unhurt, jumping up and down in triumph. Reiko tasted the blood that ran down her face. She gagged and retched. Midori lit a lantern. The whole, horrific tableau sprang into bright view.
The assassin lay dead on the floor, Reiko’s sword cleaved halfway through his neck, in a spreading puddle of blood. He wore the plain kimono, trousers, and armor tunic of Sano’s foot soldiers. His dagger had fallen beside his hand. His eyes were open and his mouth flaccid. Midori and Akiko huddled together in bed, staring at him in shock. They turned to Reiko, their eyes filled with horror.
“Put out the light!” Reiko cried.
It was too late. Her daughter had already seen her covered with blood, a monster from a child’s worst nightmare. Akiko screamed and screamed and screamed.
Her screams brought troops rushing into the bedchamber. Sano followed on his men’s heels. Dressed in formal clothes, he’d apparently just arrived home. Reiko saw him take one look at her and the corpse and realize what had happened.
“Take the children away,” he ordered Midori.
Midori’s complexion was white, and she appeared ready to be sick, but she scooped the hysterical Akiko into her arms and hustled Masahiro out the door. As Sano studied the corpse, anger and hurt suffused his features. “That’s Nabeshima. He’s served me for ten years.” He told his troops, “Get him out of here.”
The men wrapped the corpse in the bloodstained quilt from the bed and carried it off. Sano said to Reiko, “Are you all right?”
Reiko gulped and nodded even though her jaw was swelling painfully, her stomach nauseated. The children were safe; nothing else mattered. She wiped her face on her sleeve and ran her hands through her hair, which was wet and clotted with blood. She reeked of its salty, metallic stench.
“Thank the gods,” Sano said in relief. “Let’s go to the bath-chamber so you can wash.”
A frightening thought occurred to Reiko. She remembered the cry she’d heard right before the attack. “How did that man get into the room? Where’s Lieutenant Asukai?”
Sano’s somber expression was reply enough.
A cry burst from Reiko. “No!”
Sano nodded unhappily. “We found him in the corridor. He’d been stabbed. Either he didn’t hear Nabeshima coming or didn’t realize Nabeshima meant any harm until it was too late.”
As sobs shuddered through her, Reiko said, “I want to see him. I want to say good-bye.”
She rose and would have hurried from the room, but Sano gently held her back. “Later. He’s already been taken away.”
“How could it happen?” Reiko wept in Sano’s embrace.
Sano told her that he’d also found two patrol guards dead outside the private quarters. “The other assassins must have done it. They and Nabeshima worked as a team. They cleared his way to you and the children.”
Reiko couldn’t spare any grief for the other casualties. Her loyal bodyguard had died in her service, and she couldn’t even thank him. Now her knees buckled under the heavy, terrible weight of grief and gratitude.
“He put himself between me and danger. His presence delayed the assassin long enough for me to realize we were under attack. If not for him, we would be dead now.” Asukai had kept his promise. “He protected us, at the cost of his own life!”
“It’s over,” Sano said, trying to comfort her. “You killed Nabeshima. He can’t hurt anybody now.”
“Yes,” Reiko said, “but it was too close a call. And I only killed one assassin. There are eight more inside the house and who knows how many outside! What’s going to happen when the next one strikes? How will we protect the children?”
In the morning, a large procession left Sano’s estate. Troops bristling with spears surrounded Sano, Hirata, Reiko, and the children. Akiko and Masahiro walked between Sano and Hirata. Sano and Masahiro held Akiko’s hands. Midori and Reiko followed. Detective Marume led and Detective Fukida brought up the rear of their little band. Reiko couldn’t see a thing ahead of or above her because the troops raised their shields to protect her family from arrows and gunshots. But she was more afraid of treachery from within the escort that Sano had organized than from dangers outside. Among his troops might be the eight assassins.
She and Sano had decided that the children would be safer away from home. They’d agreed to place the children in Hirata’s house, under Hirata’s guard. “The children will be fine along the way if they’re protected by so many troops that any assassins within the ranks are outnumbered by men loyal to me,” Sano had said.
His mother hadn’t wanted to go. She’d insisted that she would be safe enough at his house and his family would be safer away from her. Sano hadn’t argued.
As the procession wound slowly through the passages, like a caterpillar with a thousand legs, Reiko had second thoughts. The press and movement of the soldiers’ bodies too near her generated heat. Their breath soured and moistened the air. Her skin prickled. One or more of those men could attack before the others could stop them. Reiko felt as if she and her children were in the belly of a monster.
She wished she could walk between Masahiro and Akiko, hold them close, shield them with her own body. But Masahiro didn’t want her fussing over him, and Akiko screamed every time she looked at Reiko. Even though
