longer.”
“Did Lord Matsumae tell you about our meeting?” Sano asked.
“Some.” Gizaemon sounded angry, but not with his nephew. “Hell of a guest you are, coming in here and killing our men.”
“Excuse me, but Lord Matsumae isn’t exactly blameless,” Sano said evenly. “Are you aware of what he’s done?”
“Here we are,” Gizaemon said, dropping the subject of his nephew’s crimes.
“Has Lord Matsumae made a decision about my offer?”
“You’ll have to ask him yourself.” Gizaemon spat his toothpick into the snow below the corridor, then opened the palace door.
Lord Matsumae received them in his private chamber. It was furnished with the same built-in cabinets, lacquer furniture, and study alcove as any samurai official’s, with no native decor except the wall mats. Sprawled amid quilts rumpled by a restless night, he looked like a man suffering from a malignant illness. In each of his cheeks burned a spot of fever.
“Greetings, Honorable Chamberlain.” He lifted a bowl of herb tea; his hands shook as he drank. “I’ve thought about what you said yesterday. And I’ve decided to accept your offer.”
“Good,” Sano said, relieved. “My men and I will begin investigating the murder right away.” And look for Masahiro.
“Not so fast!”
The voice that came out of Lord Matsumae was high-pitched, not his own. Sano felt every hair on his body rise in a shivering tingle. He was astounded to see Lord Matsumae’s face alter. It seemed to grow younger, female.
“You can’t just go off wherever you want.” The voice had a strange accent, with inflections that Sano had heard in the Ezo language. Why should we trust you? How do we know you can find out who killed me?“
Shocked, Sano and Hirata looked at Gizaemon.
Gizaemon’s dour smile said,
Sano said, “I was once the shogun’s detective.” He was so fascinated by the stranger looking at him through Lord Matsumae that he hardly knew what he was saying. “His Excellency trusted me to solve murders for him. The presence of the spirit infected the atmosphere. Atavistic fear crept through him. ”He was satisfied with my work.“
Lord Matsumae’s face reverted to its own aspect; he spoke in his own voice: “You will tell me everything you’re going to do and get my permission in advance. You and your men won’t go anywhere without an escort.”
“Those conditions weren’t part of the deal,” Sano said, disturbed not only because he now had two taskmasters, one a figment of the imagination or a real ghost. The constraints would allow him little freedom to search for his son as well as hinder his efforts to find the killer.
“Take it or leave it!” Lord Matsumae said. Two intense lights burned in each of his eyes, from two souls.
“Very well,” Sano said, astonished into conceding.
Pacified, Lord Matsumae said, “What is your first step?”
“I would usually examine the body of the murder victim,” Sano said. But so much time had passed; the corpse must be long cremated and buried. “Since that’s not possible, maybe you could just tell me what happened-”
“It’s possible,” Lord Matsumae said, turning to his uncle. “Take them to see Tekare.”
As Gizaemon gestured Sano and Hirata toward the door, his eyes glinted with sardonic humor at their surprise. “Right this way.”
Alone in her room, Reiko climbed out of bed. It was so cold she could see her breath. She washed, dressed, and groomed herself as fast as possible and ate the meal that a servant brought her. She opened the window shutters, pushed aside the paper panel, and peeked outside.
Matsumae troops loitered on the veranda. She was desperate to look for Masahiro, but if she tried, would they stop her? Sano and Hirata had been escorted away by other troops who’d seemed not about to let them stray. Was she under the same arrest? In Edo, the rules were clear-cut. Here she felt marooned in a lawless, senseless nightmare.
There was a tap on the door. “Come in,” Reiko called.
It was the maid from Lady Matsumae’s chamber. She carried in a bundle of leather and fur. “Pardon me, Honorable Lady,” she said, bowing, “but I thought maybe you’d like these.” Her speech was carefully polite. Kneeling, she laid a fur-lined deerskin coat and hood, fish-skin boots, and leather mittens in front of Reiko.
“Thank you,” Reiko said, grateful for the maid’s kindness. She put on the garments. They were roughly made, similar to what the maid wore, and smelled gamy, but they were much warmer than the clothes Reiko had brought from Edo.
“I didn’t think
“Yes.” The maid went breathy with delight. “A thousand thanks.”
“What is your name?” Reiko said.
“Lilac.”
Her eyes reminded Reiko of bright, quick butterflies looking for sweet flowers. Lilac sidled over to the dressing table and caressed Reiko’s silver comb, looking glass in the lacquer frame with jade inlays, and matching box of makeup. Awe parted her sensuous, pursed lips.
“Does Edo have lots of shops where people can buy nice things like these?”
“Yes,” Reiko said. “Haven’t you ever been there?”
“No. I was born here in Ezogashima, and I’ve never left it. My family are servants of the Matsumae clan. But I wish I could go to Edo.” Passion swelled Lilac’s voice. “More than anything in the world.”
She stepped over to the cabinet, where Reiko had stored the few clothes she’d rescued from the ship. “May I look?” she said boldly.
Reiko nodded because they’d struck an unspoken bargain that granted permission for the girl to snoop. Lilac opened the cabinet and lifted out a silk kimono patterned with a blue and silver landscape.
“So beautiful!” she exclaimed, holding it up to herself. Then she sighed. Even it I had clothes like this, there’s no place to wear them around here. And there’s nobody worthwhile to see me. How I wish I lived in the big city.“
It was time for Reiko to exact her half of the bargain. “Maybe you can answer some questions for me.”
“I’ll do my best.” Lilac gave the kimono a last caress, put it away, and knelt by Reiko.
There was a brazenness about her that put Reiko off, but Reiko was in no position to be choosy about her companion. “First, who are those Ezo women?”
“They’re concubines.”
Reiko was startled because the barbarians seemed so strange that she hadn’t imagined sexual relations between them and the Japanese. “Lord Matsumae’s?”
“No, they belong to his retainers.”
That explained why the women were in the castle even though Ezo were prohibited. “Why did Lady Matsumae get so angry at them?”
“She hates them. And I’ll tell you why.”
Lilac glanced at the open door. Across the hall, other maids were sweeping the men’s rooms. They giggled while Marume, Fukida, and the Rat flirted with them. Lilac beckoned Reiko to lean close and whispered, “She and her ladies-in-waiting think the Ezo concubines are inferior, like animals. They’re jealous because the men want them. They punish them whenever they get a chance.”
Because they couldn’t punish the men, they took out their jealousy on the concubines, Reiko realized. And the concubines couldn’t fight back because if they made trouble, they and their people would be punished. Reiko began to pity the Ezo.
“But Lady Matsumae started treating them even worse when her daughter died.”
Comprehension stole through Reiko. “When was this?”
“Last spring.”
