people think it’s me!” the shogun cried.
Ogyu exchanged astonished glances with Sano; they shared the thought that the madness in the air was inducing men to commit treason by blaming the shogun for the earthquake and risking death. Ogyu quickly broke eye contact, afraid that Sano would read his other thoughts.
“They say I’m not a good ruler. And that the gods will-” The shogun sobbed.
“What is it, Your Excellency?” Sano said with concern.
Ogyu felt his own concern to be magnitudes greater than Sano’s. He, unlike most people, was truly fond of the shogun. “You can tell me, Your Excellency.”
“The gods will send other disasters unless I, ahh, step down!”
This shocked Ogyu, even though it was no secret that the shogun had serious shortcomings as a ruler and that many people would like to see the government in more capable hands. The office of dictator was hereditary; Japan was stuck with the shogun until he died. But now it seemed that some men would take advantage of the earthquake to force him out.
“You don’t have to listen to the opinions of people who are so cowardly that they talk behind your back instead of coming forward and saying their say in person,” Sano said in a reasonable tone.
“But what if they’re right?” the shogun asked anxiously. “What if I am such a terrible ruler that I caused the earthquake? If so, and I don’t step down, the world could end!”
Ogyu watched Sano try not to roll his eyes. Sano was skeptical about the idea that the shogun had such a degree of control over nature, but Ogyu believed in the mystical interplay between humans and the cosmos, and what mattered was that the shogun also believed in it.
“That’s why I summoned you,” the shogun told Ogyu. “You’re the expert on Confucius. Confucius was the expert on, ahh, how to keep government in harmony with the cosmos. Tell me, please, what would Confucius have me do?”
This was the most important service the shogun had ever asked of Ogyu. This moment could make or destroy him, could preserve the status quo or shatter the regime. If only it hadn’t come while Sano was watching, while the threat of a murder investigation loomed over Ogyu’s throbbing head!
“According to Confucius, it is not for your people to decide whether the government is in harmony with the cosmos,” Ogyu said carefully. “The decision belongs to you, their leader. You and your advisors must analyze your policies and determine whether you are doing right.”
The shogun puckered his brow. “But what if I discover I’m doing wrong?” Steam from the bathwater condensed on his face and dripped down his cheeks. “Must I abdicate?”
Ogyu stole a glance at Sano, whose expression was grave, cautious. They were both dismayed that the shogun was so afraid of the gods, he might be willing to relinquish the dictatorship and let a war over the succession begin.
“No, you must identify the errors of your ways and change them,” Ogyu said.
“Are you sure?” Hope brightened the shogun’s perspiring face. “I really wouldn’t want to abdicate. I like being a great dictator.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ogyu said, confident in his knowledge.
Sighing in relief, the shogun slid deeper into the tub until his chin touched the water; he leaned his head back against the rim. “Ahh, your advice has done me good, Ogyu- san. As a token of my gratitude, I’ll send you a present as soon as I finish my bath.”
He waved his hand, dismissing Ogyu and Sano. As they walked outside together, Ogyu felt his heart pounding in time with the fist that clenched and unclenched in his head.
“I commend you for preventing His Excellency from stepping down and throwing the country into chaos,” Sano said.
Ogyu heard genuine respect and gratitude in Sano’s voice, but he knew better than to think he was safe. He also knew he should wait for Sano to say why he wanted to talk again; he mustn’t reveal his interest in the murders or the fact that he knew things about them that he was hiding. But Sano didn’t speak. The suspense cranked up the pain in Ogyu’s head, which was almost unbearable.
“Is there any news about the murders?” Ogyu finally said.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Sano sounded strangely glad that Ogyu had spared him the need to broach the topic. Ogyu wondered if he wasn’t the only one of them with something to hide. “Madam Usugumo’s apprentice has been arrested.”
Tentative relief infused balm into Ogyu’s headache. “Because he’s the killer?”
“No.” Sano regarded Ogyu with a speculative expression.
Did he guess that Ogyu wished for someone else to take the blame for the murders so that he would be safe? Did he know that Ogyu feared he was getting close to the truth? Probably yes on both counts, Ogyu decided. The pain in his head increased. He would cut into his skull with his sword if that would end the agony.
“He was arrested for an unrelated crime,” Sano went on. “But he has an interesting story. He says Madam Usugumo drugged her pupils, put them in a trance, and extracted compromising information from them. Afterward, she forced them to pay blackmail money in exchange for her keeping their secrets.”
“How shocking.” Ogyu forced his body to express the emotion he’d verbalized-voice hushed, eyes wide, mouth hanging open for an instant before he said, “Is it true?” All the while his mind blared, He knows about the rituals! He knows about the blackmail!
Sano watched him closely, as if wondering if Ogyu was putting on an act. “You tell me. You were Madam Usugumo’s pupil. Did she try it with you?”
“Never.” Ogyu made himself sound incredulous at the very idea. “Her behavior toward me was always entirely proper.”
“You never felt strange after you drank tea? She didn’t tell you to do things, such as to raise or lower your arm? Or ask you questions about yourself?”
Ogyu felt sicker as he remembered his arm lifting then dropping of its own will, and the voice of the incense whispering. A lifetime of dissembling came to his rescue. “No…” He let his voice trail off; he pasted a look of revelation on his face. “But if Madame Usugumo did perform rituals, I may have accidentally managed to avoid being drawn into one. I had to cancel my last lesson because some scholars from Miyako were coming to visit the academy and I needed to prepare.” If Sano checked with his colleagues from the academy, they would confirm that the scholars had come. “Then the earthquake happened. I never resumed my lessons.” Ogyu put on the expression of a man who’d crossed the street an instant before a runaway horse trampled the next person to cross. “Perhaps I was lucky.”
He saw Sano wonder if perhaps he was lying. A seasoned detective like Sano would automatically distrust convenient explanations from murder suspects.
“Supposing Madam Usugumo had drugged you and put you in a trance,” Sano said. “What secrets about you would she have learned?”
This was dangerous territory that Ogyu had successfully skirted his whole life. He’d built a mental wall around the private things he could never let come to light. The wall had never failed him. Confident that not a hint of his secrets showed on his face, Ogyu chuckled as if Sano had made a joke.
“Madam Usugumo wouldn’t have learned anything worth my paying blackmail for, I’m afraid,” Ogyu said. “I might have confessed to telling fibs to my parents when I was a child. My life is quite dull.” He saw Sano narrow his eyes: Sano knew he was hiding something important, and Ogyu knew Sano was hunting the killer whether he would admit it or not. To deflect Sano’s suspicion, Ogyu said, “But it appears that someone else’s peccadilloes aren’t as innocent. When the police begin looking for the murderer, I would suggest that they investigate Madam Usugumo’s other pupils. I believe one of them was Priest Ryuko.”
Inside the guesthouse, Masahiro carried a bundle of dirty laundry down the corridor. Suddenly Priest Ryuko rounded a corner and came striding toward him. Ryuko’s face was grim, his eyes focused straight ahead. To avoid being run down, Masahiro flattened himself against the wall. The priest rushed by. Opportunity beckoned. Clutching the laundry, Masahiro tiptoed after Ryuko.
Ryuko headed to the section of the house in which the shogun had installed people whom he wanted near him who’d lost their homes. Masahiro tiptoed a safe distance behind the priest, but he needn’t have worried about being caught. Ryuko was so preoccupied that he never glanced backward. He slipped through a doorway. His voice,
