crime and Lord Hosokawa joined them. “We shouldn’t leap to the conclusion that the daimyo are preparing for war,” Sano said. “There could be other reasons why they would bring in extra troops. To fix their damaged estates, for example.”
“Ahh.” The shogun looked relieved.
Skepticism appeared on faces in the assembly, including Masahiro’s. Toda studied Sano with curiosity, Kato with veiled suspicion.
“All due respect, Honorable Chamberlain, this would be a perfect time for those daimyo to strike at us-while we’re down,” General Isogai said. “I should take our army and go order them to send their extra troops home or they’ll be sorry.”
Sano saw the disaster he dreaded shaping up. “That could provoke them into attacking even if they never intended to. Everyone’s temper has been on edge since the earthquake. Do you want to risk starting a war?”
“No, oh, no!” Eyes wide with fright, the shogun clapped his hands over his mouth.
“Then we mustn’t take military action until we’re sure it’s necessary,” Sano said.
General Isogai scowled at Sano. “Your Excellency, if the daimyo are intending to attack, we can’t just sit and wait for it.” Rumbles of agreement came from the audience, including Kato.
“Yes, we have to show them who’s in charge,” Ienobu said.
Encouraged by the support, General Isogai said, “We can’t afford to look like we’re blind to what they’re doing, or too weak to protect ourselves.”
The rumbles faded into an uncomfortable silence.
The shogun looked around in confusion. “What’s the matter? Someone say something. You.” He pointed at Toda.
Toda reluctantly voiced the assembly’s shared thoughts. “We’ve been severely weakened by the earthquake. Our army has only about ten thousand soldiers left in town. They’re too exhausted to stand against fresh troops from the provinces. The castle’s defenses are in no shape to withstand an invasion. I think Chamberlain Sano is right: We shouldn’t show aggression toward the daimyo when there may not be good reason and since we won’t be able to handle the consequences.”
Horror and shame filled the chamber, like the reek from an infected wound. Men bowed their heads. It was a terrible moment. That the Tokugawa regime was no longer invincible! That its disintegration could come during their lifetime! Sano felt the blow to the assembly’s collective samurai pride. His own spirit contracted painfully. Ienobu stretched his lips over his protruding teeth and brooded. The shogun was a picture of woe. Even he understood his predicament.
“All right, then, what should we do?” General Isogai demanded, red-faced, his eyes bulging with impotent anger.
“Yes, Chamberlain Sano, what?” the shogun echoed anxiously.
“We’ll watch the daimyo,” Sano said; it was the only thing he could say. “Toda- san, keep us informed about their business.” He could only hope Toda’s agents wouldn’t see anything that would provoke the regime into taking action it would regret or expose his own duplicity. “We’ll fortify the castle as best we can and prepare our troops for battle.”
The assembly filed from the room as quietly as mourners exiting a funeral. General Isogai aimed a derisive snort, disguised as a cough, in Sano’s direction. Sano followed Toda, caught up with him in the garden, drew him away from the other men, and said, “Did you know about the daimyos’ troops when we spoke earlier?”
Unfazed by Sano’s accusing tone, Toda said, “Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Sano demanded.
“I don’t tell you everything.” Toda smiled wryly. “Need I keep reminding you?”
“Something as important as that, you shouldn’t have withheld from me,” Sano said, infuriated by the spy’s attitude.
Toda shook his head, his expression pitying. “It looks as if I need to remind you that I report information to you only when it doesn’t conflict with my duty to the Tokugawa regime, of which you are a part but not the ruler.”
That Toda was correct made Sano all the more furious. “You’re evading the question. Why did you bypass me and take your news straight to the shogun?”
“Because he deserved to know.” Toda matched Sano’s belligerence. “And I didn’t trust you to deliver it to him or to anyone else who should have been informed.”
“Why not?” Sano said, feeling insulted even as his heart beat faster with apprehension.
“Forty years as a spy. While we were talking earlier, I sensed that something wasn’t right. I wondered if you already knew about the daimyo. ” Toda fixed his unblinking eye on Sano, who found it hard not to flinch. “Well?”
Your spy instincts be damned, Sano thought. “That’s ridiculous.” He tried to speak with just enough conviction; too much or too little would alert Toda that he was lying. “You’re so immersed in deceit that you smell it even when it’s not on anybody but yourself.”
Canny mirth creased the skin around Toda’s eye. “My nose hasn’t been wrong very many times, and I don’t think it is now. But listen.” His expression turned sober; he lowered his voice. “You and I have always gotten along. I consider you a friend. May I offer you some friendly advice? Whatever you’re doing, think hard about whether it’s good for you. And if it isn’t, then quit while you can.”
He glanced across the garden to the gate, where the crowd of officials had gathered. “Well, well, look who’s risen from the dead.”
Amid the officials, exchanging bows and greetings with them, stood Yanagisawa. Shocked to see him after all these months, Sano stared. He forgot Toda and moved toward Yanagisawa, compelled by the forces that had drawn them together, pushed them apart, and pitted them against each other for fourteen years.
The crowd melted away. Alone, Sano and Yanagisawa stood at arm’s length. Sano saw how gaunt Yanagisawa was, how he’d still managed to retain his looks. The air thickened with bitter memories of the wounds they’d dealt each other. But Yanagisawa’s mood seemed indifferent as he examined Sano. He looked like he’d walked through fire and had all the emotion seared out of him. But Sano never trusted appearances when it came to Yanagisawa. His mind teemed with questions that he couldn’t ask outright. For almost a year he’d planned for this moment, but now that it had come, he was speechless.
“It’s been a long time,” Yanagisawa said. His suave voice had the tired quality of a convalescent’s.
“Yes,” Sano said, “it has.”
The banal words were incongruous with the fact that they’d once rolled in the dirt trying to kill each other. Sano pitied Yanagisawa terribly: He’d undergone the worst experience a parent could-the death of a child. Sano felt guilty because his investigation had created the circumstances that had been fatal for Yoritomo. He couldn’t blame Yanagisawa for blaming him. But he couldn’t forget that Yanagisawa had tried to kill Masahiro and almost succeeded. Anger and hatred adulterated his compassion. He couldn’t be sorry that Yanagisawa had been disgraced and demoted by the shogun, whereas Sano had been promoted and acclaimed.
“What brings you here?” Sano needed to know why Yanagisawa had finally reemerged and what it meant for himself.
“I’m getting back into circulation,” Yanagisawa said. “It’s time.”
Time for what? Sano wondered. To end his mourning for Yoritomo? To take up his quest for power again? Or to avenge Yoritomo’s death? Whatever the reason, the time couldn’t have been worse for Sano. He had a murder investigation to conduct in secret, a clandestine deal with Lord Hosokawa, and a possible revolt on his hands. The last thing he needed was Yanagisawa complicating matters.
“Have you seen the shogun yet?” Sano asked.
“Not yet. I was just about to go in and pay him my respects.”
Sano stepped aside, clearing Yanagisawa’s way to the door. Yanagisawa circled around Sano, who turned to keep him in sight. The specter of Yoritomo lying with his throat cut in a pool of blood loomed between them, as palpable as if made flesh. Sano didn’t want to mention Yoritomo; nothing could ease the pain of such a loss. But certain words must be said. Courtesy demanded them. So did Sano’s own need to express the thoughts that had weighed on his mind for almost a year.
“I never had a chance to tell you how sorry I am about Yoritomo,” Sano said. “May I offer my
