“What about Lady Asagao’s troubles?” Reiko said. “Would you let her die for a crime she didn’t commit, and have the real killer go free? Don’t you want to discover the truth anymore?”
“Of course I do!” Now Sano’s temper snapped. That Reiko should accuse him of compromising his personal principles for the sake of a quick solution to the case! He sat up and turned on his wife. “You just don’t understand the stakes involved. One more mishap after the fiasco over the Lion, and I’ll be expelled from my post, or even put to death. Shall I make you a widow who shares my disgrace? Is that what you want?”
“Of course not.” Anger and bewilderment clouded Reiko’s eyes. “And I do understand what’s at stake. What I don’t understand is why you’re so angry with me.”
“I’m not. Why must you take every disagreement so personally?”
“If you’re not angry, then why are you shouting?”
As they glared at each other, Sano realized that he was angry at himself for desiring Kozeri, and taking it out on Reiko. He had a frightening premonition that this case would destroy his marriage along with everything else that mattered to him. Forcing a smile, he took Reiko’s hand. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and I’m irritable. Forgive me.”
Reiko sat wary and unrelenting for a moment; then she smiled back, and her hand clasped Sano’s. “I do know why you arrested Lady Asagao, and I shouldn’t have spoken so strongly. You were right to be angry. I’m sorry, too.”
Her honest apology only fed Sano’s guilt.
“It’s just that I feel responsible for what happens to Lady Asagao,” Reiko continued in a worried voice. “I was the one who searched her room. I found the clothes and gave them to you.”
“You didn’t make her confess,” Sano said. “It was my decision to have you investigate the palace women, and your duty to turn whatever you found over to me.”
“1 know,” Reiko said unhappily, “but still…”
Sano couldn’t offer any absolution, because he shared her sense of responsibility for Lady Asagao. They sat for a moment, holding hands, joined in dread of the future.
“What shall we do?” Reiko asked. “Find the real killer?”
“Or try to,” Sano said. “There’s not much time. Delaying Asagao’s trial will give me a bad reputation that could spread to Edo and have me thrown out of the bakufu before I can solve the case. Someone else will take over my job, and Asagao will die.”
“But we won’t give up yet,” Reiko declared.
“No, we won’t,” Sano said, heartened by his wife’s determination. “Tomorrow I’ll restart the investigation. If there are any clues or suspects Yoriki Hoshina missed, I’ll find them.”
“Speaking of other suspects,” Reiko said, “I forgot to ask if you saw the left minister’s former wife.”
Suddenly the space around Sano seemed a landscape of quicksand, deep holes, and sharp-edged rocks. He withdrew his hand from Reiko’s, lest she feel his nervousness, and said, “Yes, I did.” Then, in as neutral a voice as he could manage, he recited the dry facts from his interview with Kozeri.
“So Konoe was a constant problem for his wife since she left him,” Reiko mused. To Sano’s relief, she didn’t seem to suspect anything amiss. “Kozeri belongs to a peaceful Buddhist order that shuns violence and doesn’t practice the martial arts. Still, I find it hard to believe she bore no ill will toward Konoe. I wonder if she told you the whole story. She might be more frank with another woman. Maybe I should go see her.”
“No!” The word burst from Sano. Reiko looked at him, obviously perplexed by his vehemence. “I mean, I think Kozeri is a less likely suspect or witness than the members of the Imperial Court.”
He had to keep Reiko and Kozeri apart. If Reiko saw Kozeri, she might guess how he’d felt toward the beautiful nun. Also, if the investigation required another interview with Kozeri, he wanted to be the one who went, because he wanted to see her again. The knowledge filled Sano with fresh guilt.
“But she’s the only lead I can follow,” Reiko said, disappointed. “Now that the Imperial Court knows I spied for you, there’s no use in my going back to the palace; the women won’t tell me anything. It would be better for me to talk to Kozeri than just sit here and do nothing while time runs out for you-and Lady Asagao.”
A knock at the door spared Sano the necessity of answering. “Come in,” he called, grateful for the reprieve.
Detectives Marume and Fukida entered the room. They bowed to Sano and Reiko. Marume said, “Please excuse the interruption, Sosakan-sama, but just as we arrived at the inn, an imperial messenger came asking for you.”
“He brought you this,” Fukida said, holding out a cylindrical black lacquer scroll case decorated with gold chrysanthemums.
Sano opened the case and unrolled the document inside. He scanned the message written in bold, black calligraphy and inspected the signature seal. “It’s from the emperor,” he said. “His Majesty demands that I come to see him immediately.”
“What for?” Reiko said.
“He doesn’t say, but I’m guessing that he wants to persuade me to free Lady Asagao.” Sano’s heart sank at the prospect of another clash with the Imperial Court. “Still, I can’t ignore an order from the emperor. I have to go.”
With a sense of leaving one dangerous situation for another, Sano rose and donned his swords. “Marume-san, Fukida-san, come with me.” To Reiko, he said, “We will finish our conversation later.”
14
Sano, Marume, and Fukida rode up to the Imperial Palace just as the temple bells signaled half past the hour of the dog. Outside the palace gate, two sentries-one a Tokugawa soldier, the other an imperial watchman-stood guard.
Dismounting, Sano introduced himself and said, “I’m here to see the emperor, at his request.”
“Yes, Sosakan-sama.” The Tokugawa soldier bowed, then turned to the watchman. “Go and fetch the imperial escort.”
The watchman went inside the palace. Sano and his detectives waited in the quiet, empty street. Beneath a deep violet sky full of stars, a dark mass of leafy treetops rose above the palace walls. Time passed. The moon’s irregular white orb floated over the hills. Sano grew restless as hunger, thirst, and weariness of body and spirit strained his patience. Looking at the tired faces of his men, he knew they felt no better than he. They’d spent all day investigating the fern-leaf coins, to no avail. On the way to the palace he’d told them about Lady Asagao’s confession and arrest. They shared his doubts, and had loyally seconded his decision to seek out the truth before taking Asagao to Edo for trial. They, too, would suffer if he got in trouble, because their livelihood and honor were tied to his.
Finally the watchman returned with two guards bearing lanterns. They led Sano and his men into the imperial compound.
The palace was a different world at night, enfolded in a darkness more dense than in the city outside. The guards’ lanterns spilled weak light against fences and cast long shadows as they preceded Sano, Marume, and Fukida through the kuge quarter. They met no one. Their footsteps echoed forlornly; the only other sounds were the trickle of water in drains and the ever-present insect songs. The warm, humid air breathed a scent of earth, ashes, and the decay of centuries past.
“This place is eerie,” said Marume. His jovial voice sounded hollow in the gloom. “Give me the noise and lights and bustle of Edo Castle any day.”
Fukida looked around nervously. The same uneasiness infected Sano, who imagined hidden watchers peering at him. In his tired, tense state, the notion of three armed samurai afraid of the dark didn’t seem as laughable as it should have. He wished the guards would hurry, but they maintained a slow, decorous pace.
Entering the imperial enclosure, they crossed a lane and passed through an inner gate to a compound of interconnected buildings. They walked a circuitous route around halls, then through a passage and into an open courtyard surrounded by dark buildings and roofed walkways.
Suddenly the guards divided and fled in opposite directions, taking the lights with them, and vanished.
