ambitions within reach. Yanagisawa smiled.
The expression on Yoshisato’s face turned to pure loathing. He sucked in his cheeks, then spat on Yanagisawa’s hand.
Startled, Yanagisawa exclaimed in offense. He shook the hot, wet saliva off his hand as he glared at Yoshisato. “Why did you do that?”
“Because you insulted me.” Yoshisato fairly blazed. He stood with his knees bent and hands twitching, as if ready to reach for his swords, although he wore none. “You treat me like you think I’m stupid enough to believe you want to be my father. Well, I’m not. I know you’re just pretending.” The pain of disappointment showed through the anger in his eyes. “You just want another whore to put in the shogun’s bed!”
Such rage exploded in Yanagisawa that he saw Yoshisato through a veil of red and black flames. He lashed out his dripping hand and smote Yoshisato on the face.
Yoshisato didn’t try to dodge. The impact of the blow shuddered through Yanagisawa, as if he’d struck an oak tree. Pain crippled his hand. Yoshisato’s cheek turned crimson. Tears of humiliation welled in his eyes, but he stood his ground.
“If you want a new whore, get one of my half brothers,” he said.
If he stayed a moment longer, Yanagisawa would kill his son. He turned and strode out the door.
“Don’t come back!” Yoshisato shouted, his voice ragged. “I never want to see you again!”
19
“I started out searching the camps,” Marume said. “I couldn’t find anybody who knew Korin. Then I had a thought: Mizutani called him a shady character, and shady characters tend to get in trouble with the law, so maybe I’d better check the jail. That’s what I did. And that’s where he is.”
“Excellent work,” Sano said.
Marume only nodded; he didn’t take his usual, joking pride in his cleverness.
Night was a mixed blessing, Sano thought as they and his other troops rode through frigid darkness and windblown snow crystals. It hid the earthquake’s devastation, but thousands of people were suffering in cold tents and damaged buildings. The makeshift jail occupied the former site of a marketplace in Nihonbashi. Lanterns and jagged roof tiles topped a wall, built from the vendors’ broken stalls and debris from fallen buildings, which encircled tents packed closely together. Because crime had proliferated since the earthquake, this prison contained many more criminals than had been transferred from Edo Jail. Guards patrolled outside.
“Did you tell Korin that I was coming and why?” Sano asked.
“No,” Marume said.
“Good.”
Conditions in the jail were even more squalid than in the regular camps. Men lay crammed four or five to each small tent. Sewage from cesspools mixed with the muddy snow on the ground. Sanitation required too much effort to waste on criminals. Marume stopped at a tent. Four dirty, sullen faces peered out at him and Sano.
“You three, go,” Marume said, pointing. “Korin, you stay.”
The apprentice’s tent mates reluctantly crawled out of the tent. Marume and Sano squeezed into the vacated space that smelled of urine, body odor, and fetid breath. Marume said to Korin, “This is Chamberlain Sano. Sit up.”
Korin obeyed. Light from the lanterns on the walls outside reached his face. It was bruised and swollen, his lips split, both eyes blackened.
“What happened to you?” Sano asked.
“A little misunderstanding.” Korin smiled, then winced. Sano could see that he was young, perhaps twenty- five, with wavy black hair tied back in a short tail. He would be handsome when not beaten to a pulp.
“He was cheating at cards in the camps,” Marume said. “The people didn’t take kindly to it. They beat him up before they handed him over to the police.”
“You deserved it,” Sano said. “That’s pretty low, cheating earthquake victims.” He’d heard of many similar instances of unscrupulous folks trying to profit from the earthquake. Some offered to rebuild homes for a cheap price, then absconded with the money.
“But I’m a victim, too, aren’t I? I did what I had to do to survive.” Korin had a certain charm despite his lack of morals. “The earthquake took my work away.” Sano could imagine him luring men to the brothels for which he’d worked as a tout. It was harder to imagine him engaged in the contemplative art of incense. “I gave back the money and said I was sorry.”
“That’s not good enough.” Rage suddenly animated Marume. “I should cut your hands off so you can never play cards again.”
“Hey!” Korin recoiled in fright.
Sano shared Marume’s sentiment, but he needed the apprentice in good enough shape to help with his investigation. He was surprised at Marume, who’d often threatened suspects before but never really meant it. Marume clearly meant it now. Grief had robbed him of his good nature.
“Don’t worry; he won’t hurt you.” Sano turned to Marume, who glowered but subsided. “I want to talk to you about the incense teacher you used to work for. Madam Usugumo.”
“What about her?” Korin shifted to a more comfortable position. It didn’t quite hide the flinch that jerked his body when he’d heard his employer’s name.
That slight reaction told Sano that Korin knew something about the murders. “When was the last time you saw Madam Usugumo?”
“The afternoon before the earthquake,” Korin replied, too quickly.
“What happened that day?”
“Nothing special. I helped Madam Usugumo in her workshop. She had some new cassia, nutmeg, and ambergris that needed to be ground up and cooked. Then we chose different kinds of incense for a game she was going to play that night, with some pupils.” He bobbed his head and smiled, encouraging Sano to believe him, hoping this wealth of detail would head off more questions.
“Were you at the incense game that night?” Sano asked.
“No!” Korin crossed his arms and scratched under them. “Madam Usugumo gave me the night off. So I went out.”
“Did you live with her?” Marume interjected.
Korin edged as far away from Marume as the small space allowed. “Yes, I did. It’s the custom.”
Employers usually housed their apprentices, but Sano detected a note in Korin’s voice that said his arrangement with Madam Usugumo hadn’t been the usual kind. “Were you lovers?”
Sheepish pride showed on Korin’s bruised face. “You could say that was one of the services I did for her.” As if he thought that sounded ungallant, he added, “Or one of the benefits of the job.”
Marume grimaced in disgust. “When did you get home?”
“I didn’t.” Korin scratched his head, rumpling his wavy hair. Sano thought it was nervousness rather than fleas that made him itch. “I met some friends, and when we were drinking at a teahouse, the earthquake started. I never made it back.”
“You never checked on Madam Usugumo?” Sano asked. “Weren’t you concerned about her?”
“Of course I was!”
“The neighborhood headman says you haven’t been seen there since before the earthquake,” Sano said.
Korin’s hands scrabbled over his body. The worry bugs were biting harder. “I meant to go. But one thing happened after another, and I ended up in here.”
Sano noticed that he sounded most reasonable when justifying a bad deed. “You know why I’m asking you these questions, don’t you?”
“No.” Korin smiled as if he hoped his charm could ward off danger.
“It’s because Madam Usugumo died during that incense game,” Sano said. “And you’re under suspicion for murder.”
Korin abruptly stopped scratching. His hands plopped onto his knees. “All right, I knew.” He had the look of a
