“That’s a good question,” Sano said.
The scavenger said, “Greetings, Honorable Chamberlain.”
It was Mizutani, the incense master. His coat was covered with dust from his digging. He smacked his loose- fleshed hands together to clean them. With his soft, droopy face perspiring, he looked more like a melting candle than ever. He smelled of incense and sweat.
“What are you doing?” Sano asked.
“Uh, just poking around.” Embarrassment reddened Mizutani’s cheeks. He must have been looking for something he could steal from the dead woman who’d misused him. “Isn’t it strange? It’s as if the house climbed out of the hole.”
“It is,” Sano said. “Do you know when it happened?”
“I found it like this today.”
Sano felt a disturbing suspicion. “Did anyone see what happened?”
“Not that I know of.”
Between now and the time when he’d first seen the house, Sano had sent Hirata back to it to search for evidence. Had Hirata somehow managed to levitate the house’s remains from the hole? If so, why hadn’t he told Sano? Sano recalled that when Hirata had brought Madam Usugumo’s book, he’d behaved oddly. Had Hirata not wanted to confess that something wrong had happened here? Sano chewed the inside of his cheek. Eventually, he must extract the truths that Hirata seemed determined to conceal.
“Well, I guess I’ll be going.” Mizutani backed away.
“Wait,” Sano said. “I want to talk to you some more.”
“About the murders?” Mizutani halted, reluctant and morose. “I said I didn’t poison Madam Usugumo and her pupils. I wish you would believe me.”
“I actually do,” Sano said. “But I’m hoping you can answer some new questions that have come up since we last met.”
Mizutani cheered up. “Ask me anything you like.”
Between the headache, the drowsiness, and the upset stomach, Sano was having difficulty thinking. He managed to recall one topic he wanted to broach with Mizutani. “You told me that Madam Usugumo stole your pupils. Was one of them Priest Ryuko?”
“Priest Ryuko? He was her pupil? No. I’ve never even met him.” Mizutani looked envious of his enemy, then curious. “What does Priest Ryuko have to do with the murders? Is he a suspect?”
Sano ignored the question. “What about Minister Ogyu from the Confucian academy? Did Madam Usugumo steal him from you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Him and Lady Ogyu.”
Sano felt the pulse-quickening excitement that always accompanied an important clue. He frowned as his drugged mind struggled to figure out why it was important. Through the opium fog he saw a connection between the two phases of his investigation-the phase when his suspects had been limited to Mizutani, the apprentice, and the dead women, and the phase after he’d learned about Priest Ryuko, Minister Ogyu, and the blackmail.
“Lord Hosokawa’s daughters,” Sano said. “Were they your pupils before they were Madam Usugumo’s?”
“Them, too,” Mizutani said resentfully.
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
“With all due respect, Honorable Chamberlain, you didn’t ask.”
Now Sano realized that Mizutani was the connection. Mizutani had known all the victims, plus Minister and Lady Ogyu. Lady Ogyu, as a pupil of Madam Usugumo, would have had the opportunity to sneak poisoned incense into Usugumo’s supplies. And Sano remembered Reiko saying that Lady Ogyu shared her husband’s secret. Lady Ogyu could have committed murder on his behalf.
“Were Minister and Lady Ogyu acquainted with Lord Hosokawa’s daughters?” This seemed important to ask, although Sano couldn’t grasp why.
“I don’t know if he was, but she was. I give group lessons for women. They usually enjoy it. Lady Ogyu took some lessons with Lord Hosokawa’s daughters. But I don’t think they had much fun. The daughters were always quarreling. It was so uncomfortable, I was almost glad when they switched to Madam Usugumo.” Mizutani added, “Lady Ogyu never said a word. A strange woman. I could never tell what she was thinking.”
Nor could Sano fathom why the connection between Lady Ogyu and Lord Hosokawa’s feuding daughters was significant, although his instincts said it was.
“Sano- san?” Detective Marume’s image blurred in front of Sano. “What’s wrong?”
Sano realized that he was scowling in an effort to concentrate, and swaying on his feet. “Nothing,” he lied, then told Mizutani, “Thank you for your assistance. You can go.”
“I’m taking you home,” Marume said as he and Sano walked toward their horses. “It’s my duty to tell you that you need to follow the doctor’s orders and stay in bed.”
“Not yet,” Sano said. “We’re going to the Yushima Seid o. I have to talk to Lady Ogyu.”
35
Traveling back to Edo, Hirata set such a fast pace that his horse staggered to a halt on the outskirts of town. He jumped down, glanced up at the sky, and cursed. The sun was rapidly descending toward the western horizon. Desperate to reach the castle before the hour of the cock, he looked around. A mounted soldier trotted in his direction. Hirata ran to the soldier, pulled him off the horse, leaped on, and galloped away. He crouched low in the saddle; the horse’s hooves pounded the earth; Edo’s blighted landscape streamed past him. When the horse gave out in the daimyo district, Hirata leaped from the saddle and ran. Outside the castle, a long line of samurai waited at the gate. Hirata raced to the head of the line.
“This is an emergency,” he told the sentries.
They let him in. He hurried upward through the walled passages, veering around pedestrians, detouring around crumbled pavement. Halfway up the hill, porters carrying wooden beams blocked the path. On their left, the hill rose steeply to the next level of the castle. Hirata scaled the slope, grabbing at trees and shrubs. He climbed a broken wall and jumped down into another passage. Running past mounted patrol guards, he began to tire. Not even mystical powers could keep his body moving so fast indefinitely. By the time Hirata entered the palace gate, his leg ached from the old wound. He limped around the ruins of the palace. Reaching the guesthouse, he fell to his hands and knees. Sweat poured down his face. Panting, Hirata crawled.
Temple bells began tolling the hour of the cock.
Seated on the dais inside his chamber, the shogun announced, “It’s time for my exercise.” He held out his hand to Masahiro, who pulled him to his feet.
“Fetch His Excellency’s outdoor clothes,” Masahiro told the other pages.
The pages glowered at him; they didn’t like him giving them orders, but they obeyed. The shogun had granted him authority to tell everyone what to do. The pages dressed the shogun in the mounds of clothes he wore when he went for the brief walk his doctor had recommended. The shogun leaned heavily on Masahiro as they strolled around the garden, where dark green pines, leafless cherry trees, and frozen flower beds circled a pond with a bridge to a little pavilion. The shogun sniffled. Masahiro turned to him. Was he catching a cold? Everyone in Edo Castle feared he would take ill and die. Then Masahiro saw tears on the shogun’s cheek.
“What’s the matter, Your Excellency?” Masahiro asked.
“Ahh, I’m so unhappy.” The shogun sobbed.
“Why?” Masahiro was puzzled. The shogun had everything a person could want.
“Because I feel so lost,” the shogun said. “Life seems like a, ahh, path through darkness and confusion and danger. I don’t know which way to turn. And I’m all alone.”
This was Masahiro’s first inkling that power and wealth didn’t guarantee happiness. “But you’re not alone. You’re always surrounded by people.”
“That’s part of my problem!” The shogun turned to Masahiro. His eyes and nose were red from weeping. “They’re so smart, and so, ahh, sure of themselves. They know what to do.”
