“Does this mean you’re-?” Hirata couldn’t bear to ask whether Sano was casting him out to become a r o nin, a masterless samurai. The thought of the disgrace, the loss of everything that mattered, was too terrible.
“Not yet,” Sano said. Hirata could see that he was reluctant to impose such a harsh punishment, even though he had every right as well as the responsibility to uphold the samurai code of honor. “I’m giving you one last chance to settle whatever business you have with these men. Take a leave of absence for as long as you need. If you can’t settle it and return your full attention to your duties…” Sano paused, then spoke with resolve as well as misgivings. “Your leave of absence will have to become permanent.”
26
Reiko climbed the steep, crumbling steps to the Yushima Seid o while her palanquin, bearers, and guards waited below. She carried a gift-wrapped package and a lacquer scroll container. Reaching the portals, she heard children’s tinkling laughter. In a courtyard surrounded by fallen buildings, a woman, a boy, and a girl held hands, dancing in a circle on the snow, as the children laughed and the woman chanted a song. The children looked to be seven or eight years old. The woman, Lady Ogyu, was in her twenties, thin and tall and sinewy in her padded, steel-blue silk coat. Long, lank black hair spilled from the scarf wrapped around her head. Her face was too rawboned for prettiness, but smiles carved dimples into her cheeks as she swung her children’s hands. Reiko smiled too.
Lady Ogyu saw Reiko. She stopped chanting and dancing; she gathered her children close. Her face had a naturally sad cast-eyes, brows, and mouth downturned.
“Good day, Lady Ogyu.” Reiko walked toward the family.
“Who are you?” Lady Ogyu looked as scared as if Reiko were a bandit. She pushed the boy and girl behind her. They clung to her skirts and peered out at Reiko, solemn and silent.
“I’m sorry for frightening you,” Reiko said. “I’ve come to visit. My name is Reiko.”
Lady Ogyu backed away, drawing the children with her. “Have we ever met?”
“No, but we have a relative in common. My grandmother is your great-aunt by marriage.”
Suspicion deepened the fear on Lady Ogyu’s face. She reminded Reiko of a deer, to whom all humans were hunters. The children’s eyes were huge; their lips trembled. Reiko wished she could leave them in peace, but she had to help Sano solve the crime, prevent a war, and protect her own family.
“Grandmother asked me to come and see you because she’s concerned about you. I have a letter from her.” Reiko proffered the scroll container to Lady Ogyu, who made no move to accept it. Reiko took out the letter and held it out to Lady Ogyu.
Lady Ogyu snatched the letter from Reiko’s hand, leery of even the briefest contact. As she read, her eyes darted back and forth between the letter and Reiko. Finished, she hesitated.
Reiko smiled at the children, said, “I’ve brought you something,” and offered them the package.
Tempted by the pretty red wrapping, they looked at their mother. She reluctantly nodded. The boy opened the package. When he and his sister saw the sweet-bean cakes inside, their eyes lit up. They began stuffing cakes in their mouths. They probably hadn’t eaten sweets since the earthquake. Reiko felt lucky that her cooks had saved some.
“Come inside,” Lady Ogyu said grudgingly. She sidled toward one of three tents pitched in the courtyard and held up the flap for Reiko to enter. “Play outside,” she told the children. “Don’t go too far.”
Daylight shining through the tent illuminated the small interior. Two layers of tatami padded the ground. Despite the burning charcoal brazier, it was so cold that Reiko hated to remove her shoes. Toys were jumbled in a corner-dolls, miniature swords, balls, and wooden soldiers. Folded clothes and bedding piled along the walls provided extra insulation. Lady Ogyu picked two cushions from a stack and tossed them on the floor. She handed Reiko a quilt and wrapped another around her shoulders. They knelt on the cushions. Lady Ogyu offered refreshments. Reiko demurred, was pressed, and finally accepted. Lady Ogyu lifted a water jug that sat on the brazier, sloshed water into a teapot, and threw in some loose tea from a jar. She kept her gaze averted from Reiko. They sat in silence as the tea steeped. Lady Ogyu poured two bowls, handed one to Reiko. Reiko sipped weak, lukewarm tea. Lady Ogyu made no attempt at conversation. Rarely had Reiko seen a less gracious hostess; but she was no friend to this woman.
“I heard that your house was destroyed. I’m sorry,” Reiko said.
“Yes, well,” Lady Ogyu murmured, her gaze fixed on the tea bowl she clutched.
“How about if I look for someplace more comfortable for you and your children to stay?” Reiko felt sorry for Lady Ogyu, guilty for deceiving her, and eager to atone.
Lady Ogyu stared at Reiko in horror. “I don’t want to go! Please don’t make me!”
Reiko was surprised by her distress. “Of course you needn’t go if you don’t want to.”
“My husband wants to stay here,” Lady Ogyu whispered. “I want to be near him.”
Reiko seized the chance to talk about Minister Ogyu. “You must love your husband.”
Lady Ogyu nodded, cringing.
“I love mine, too,” Reiko said. “I wouldn’t want to leave him even if we had to live on the street to be together.”
Lady Ogyu didn’t take the opportunity to exchange confidences. Gulping her tea, she retreated into her shell. Reiko tried to keep the conversation going. “How long have you been married?”
“Nine years.” Lady Ogyu glanced at the flap of the tent, as if she wished someone would come and take Reiko away.
“How old are your children?”
Reiko hoped that her interest in them would thaw Lady Ogyu’s reserve, but Lady Ogyu squirmed as if Reiko had poked her. “They’re both eight. They’re twins.”
“How nice. I have a boy who’s twelve and a girl who’s five.” She thought of the new baby inside her and smiled. “Where is your husband?”
“He went into town.” Lady Ogyu pressed her lips together as if afraid of leaking too much information.
“When will he be back?” Reiko wanted to know how much uninterrupted time she would have with Lady Ogyu before Minister Ogyu returned. He was a possible murderer, she’d promised Sano she would be careful, and she was more concerned than usual about her safety because she was pregnant.
“Soon, I think.” Lady Ogyu glanced at the tent flap again, obviously hoping her husband would rescue her from Reiko.
“He’s the director of the academy, isn’t he? A very important man?”
Lady Ogyu nodded. She set down her empty cup. She didn’t offer to refill Reiko’s.
“He must be busy. I know my husband is. I hardly ever see him. Tell me-is your husband the kind of man who works all the time? Or does he take time for pleasure?”
“He works hard,” Lady Ogyu blurted out, “but he likes to be with me and the children as much as possible.”
Reiko saw that here was a love-marriage as strong as hers with Sano. She didn’t want to discover that Minister Ogyu was the killer and end this couple’s happiness, but she forged ahead with her inquiries. “Is there anything special that you do together?” When Lady Ogyu didn’t answer, Reiko prompted, “How about incense lessons? They’re very popular, or at least they were before the earthquake.”
Lady Ogyu regarded Reiko with renewed suspicion. “Why are you asking me all these questions? Why do you care whether we take incense lessons?” Her eyes widened in dismay. “Wait-I know who you are.” She pointed at Reiko. “You’re the wife of Chamberlain Sano. I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen you at the castle. The chamberlain was here yesterday, asking my husband about his incense teacher who was murdered. I think you want to trick me into saying something the chamberlain can use against my husband.”
“No,” Reiko protested, but Lady Ogyu cut her off.
“Don’t bother to lie.” Anger at Reiko’s deceit made Lady Ogyu bold. “I’m not telling you anything else.” She stood, lifted the tent flap, and said, “Go home. Leave us alone.”
Reiko shamefacedly exited the tent. Descending the steps, she saw four samurai on horseback join her guards and bearers in the lower, outer precinct. The four dismounted. Reiko recognized one of them, from Sano’s
