Dwarf and the Living Bodhisattva! Witness other shocking curiosities of nature!”
The Rat was no less an oddity than his freaks. He came from the far northern island of Hokkaido, where cold winters caused men to sprout copious body hair. The Ainu, as they were called, reminiscent of apes, very primitive, and usually much taller than other Japanese. Short and wiry, the Rat must have been a runt of his tribe-and an ambitious one. He’d come to Edo as a young man to seek his fortune. A tobacco merchant had let him live in the back of his small shop, charging customers money to see him. The Rat’s rodentlike visage had earned him his nickname; his business acumen had turned the merchant’s sideline into this lucrative, notorious freak show. Some twenty years later, the Rat now owned the establishment, which he’d inherited upon his master’s death.
“Step inside!” he invited. “Admission is only ten zeni!”
Coins in hand, the audience lined up outside the curtain. The Rat leapt off the platform to usher them inside; his assistant, a hugely muscled giant, collected admission fees. Hirata joined the queue. Seeing his empty hands, the giant growled, frowning.
“It’s you I’ve come to see,” Hirata told the Rat.
“Ah, Hirata-san.” The Rat’s beady eyes took on a gleam of avaricious cunning; he rubbed his hairy paws together. “What can I do for you today?”
“I need some information.”
The Rat, who roamed Edo and the provinces in an ongoing hunt for new freaks, also collected news. He supplemented his income by selling choice information. While a police officer, Hirata had caught the Rat during a raid on an illegal brothel, and the Rat had bartered his way out of an arrest by telling Hirata the whereabouts of an outlaw who had eluded Edo police for years. Since then, Hirata had often used the Rat as an informant. His prices were high, but his service reliable.
“Better come inside,” the Rat said now. “Show’s about to start, and I have to announce the acts.” He spoke with an odd, rustic accent. “We can talk during them.”
Hirata followed him into the building, where the audience had gathered in a narrow room with a curtained stage. The Rat jumped onto this. Extolling the wonders of what was to come, he whipped the crowd into a noisy, eager frenzy, then announced, “And now I present the Kanto Dwarf!”
The curtain opened and out walked a grotesque figure, half the height of a normal man, with a large head, stunted body, and short limbs. Dressed in bright theatrical robes, he sang a song from a popular Kabuki drama. The audience cheered. The Rat joined Hirata at the side of the stage.
“I’m looking for an itinerant drug peddler named Choyei,” Hirata said, relating the meager background material that existed on the man.
The Rat’s feral grin flashed. “So you want to know who sold and who bought the poison that killed the shogun’s concubine. Not easy, finding someone who doesn’t want to be found. Plenty of hiding places in Edo.”
Hirata wasn’t fooled. The Rat always began negotiations by stressing the difficulty of obtaining a particular piece of information. “Thirty coppers if you find him by tomorrow,” Hirata said. “After that, twenty.”
On stage, the dwarf’s song ended. “Excuse me,” said the Rat. He bounded onto the stage and announced, “The Living Bodhisattva!” Amid more cheers, a woman appeared. She wore a sleeveless garment to show off her three arms. She struck poses reminiscent of statues of the many-armed Buddhist deity of mercy, then invited audience members to bet on which of three overturned cups hid a peanut. The Rat rejoined Hirata. “A hundred coppers, no matter when I find your man.”
Other acts followed: a dancing fat man; a hermaphrodite singing the male and female parts of a duet. The negotiations continued. At last Hirata said, “Seventy coppers if you find him within two days, fifty thereafter, and nothing if I find Choyei first. That’s my final offer.”
“All right, but I want an advance of twenty coppers to cover my expenses,” the Rat said.
Hirata nodded, handing over the coins. The Rat stuffed them into the pouch at his waist, then went to announce the final act. “And now, the event you’ve all been waiting for: Fukurokujo, god of wisdom!”
Out walked a boy about ten years old. His features were as tiny as a baby’s, his eyes closed, his head elongated into a high dome that resembled that of the legendary god. Gasps of surprise came from the audience.
“For an added charge of five zeni, Fukurokujo will tell your fortune!” cried the Rat. Eagerly the audience pressed forward. The Rat said to Hirata, “To seal our bargain, I’ll give you a free fortune.” He led Hirata onto the stage and placed Hirata’s hand on the boy’s forehead. “Oh, great Fukurokujo, what do you see in this man’s future?”
Eyes still closed, the “god” said in a high, childish voice, “I see a beautiful woman. I see danger and death.” As the audience emitted oohs and ahs, he keened, “Beware, beware!”
The memory of Lady Ichiteru came rushing back to Hirata. He saw her lovely, impassive face; felt her hand upon him; heard again the wild music of the puppet theater underscoring his desire. He experienced anew the stirring mixture of lust and humiliation. Even as he recalled her trickery and the penalty for consorting with the shogun’s concubine, he yearned for Ichiteru with a frightening passion. He knew he must see her again-if not to repeat the interview and salvage his professional reputation, then to see where their erotic encounter would lead.
14
The gilt crest above the gate of Lord Miyagi Shigeru of Tosa Province represented a pair of swans facing each other, their wings spread around them in a feathered circle, touching at the tips. Sano arrived at dusk, when homebound samurai trooped through the darkening streets. An elderly manservant led Sano into the mansion, where he left his shoes and swords in the entryway. Edo ’s daimyo district had been rebuilt since the Great Fire; hence, the Miyagi estate dated from a recent period. Yet the interior of the house seemed ancient, the woodwork of the corridor dark with age and probably salvaged from an older structure. A faint smell of decay hung in the air, as if from centuries of moisture, smoke, and human breath. In the reception room, an eerie melody ended as the servant ushered Sano inside and announced, “Honorable Lord and Lady Miyagi, I present Sano Ichiro, the shogun’s sosakan-sama.”
Four people occupied the room: a gray-haired samurai, reclining on silk cushions; a middle-aged woman who knelt beside him; and two pretty young maidens seated together, one holding a samisen, the other a wooden flute. Sano knelt, bowed, and addressed the man.
“Lord Miyagi, I’m investigating the murder of the shogun’s concubine, and I must ask you some questions.”
For a moment, everyone regarded Sano with silent wariness. Cylindrical white lanterns burned, giving the room an intimate, late-night ambience. Charcoal braziers warmed away the autumn chill. The Miyagi swan insignia was repeated in carved roundels on the ceiling beams and pillars, in the gold crests on the lacquer tables and cabinets and the man’s brown silk dressing gown. Sano had the distinct sense of a self-contained world, whose inhabitants perceived other people as outsiders. An aura of perfume, wintergreen hair oil, and a barely perceptible musky odor formed a cocoon around them, as if they exuded their own atmosphere. Then Lord Miyagi spoke.
“May we offer you some refreshment?” He gestured toward a low table, which held teapot, cups, smoking tray, and sake decanter, plus a lavish spread of fruit, cakes, and sushi.
Observing social convention, Sano politely refused, was persuaded, then graciously accepted.
“I wondered whether you would find out about me.” Lord Miyagi had a thin, lanky body and long face. His downward-tilted eyes were moist and luminous, his full mouth softly wet. Loose skin wattled his neck and cheeks. His drawling voice reflected his languid posture. “Well, I suppose I might have expected that my connection with Harume would become known eventually; the metsuke is most efficient. I am just glad that it happened after her death, when it can hardly matter anymore. Ask me whatever you please.”
Preserving the possible advantage of keeping Lady Harume’s diary a secret, Sano did not correct the daimyo’s impression that Tokugawa spies had uncovered the relationship. “Perhaps we should talk alone,” Sano said, eyeing Lady Miyagi. He needed the intimate details of the affair, which Lord Miyagi might want to hide from his wife.
However, Lord Miyagi said, “My wife will stay. She already knows all about Lady Harume and myself.”
“We are cousins, joined in a marriage of convenience,” Lady Miyagi explained. Indeed she did bear a striking
