heard.” She groped for words, then cradled her arms, the universal sign language of a mother holding a child, and pointed at Reiko. Pity darkened her eyes. “I sorry.”
This was the first sign of genuine caring about her kidnapped child that anyone in Ezogashima had shown Reiko. It broke down Reiko’s self-control. Tears burned down her cold cheeks. Wente stood by, awkward and embarrassed.
“I sorry. I sorry,” she repeated, almost as though she were personally to blame and asking forgiveness.
“I don’t know what to do anymore.” Reiko’s tears froze as she wiped them away. A dog licked her hand. Its dumb, animal comfort jolted a sob from her. “Nobody will help me.”
“I help you.”
“How?” A glimmer of light pierced Reiko’s grief.
Eyes shining with gladness at being able to offer salvation, Wente said, “Boy here.”
Caution warred with the joy that leaped in Reiko. “But-but Lord Matsumae’s troops killed the men who brought my son. They must have killed Masahiro, too.”
“No, no.” Wente shook her head, adamant.
“How do you know?” Reiko said, desperate to believe.
“I listen. I see.” Wente beckoned Reiko to the door of the shed and pointed upward, at the white tower of the keep, which rose beyond and above the palace. “He there.”
“How did Lady Reiko get out?” Gizaemon demanded.
“I don’t know,” Deer Antlers said. “One moment she was in her room. The next time we checked on her…” He spread his empty hands.
“You idiot, Captain Okimoto! Letting a woman trick you!” Gizaemon turned in one direction, then another, so upset he was almost literally beside himself.
Sano was alarmed that Reiko had escaped, but not exactly surprised. He knew how determined she was to find Masahiro, and how clever about finding ways to go places she shouldn’t. “Does Lord Matsumae know?” Gizaemon asked.
“No,” said Okimoto. “We haven’t told him.”
“If he finds out, there’s no telling what
He told Captain Okimoto, “I’m joining in the hunt. You fools take the barbarians back to their camp.” Pointing at Sano and Hirata, he added, “Lock them up.”
“No!” Fear for Reiko stabbed Sano. He leaped off the dais. “I’m going with you.”
When Gizaemon started to object, Sano said, “I can help you find my wife.”
“The last thing I need is you running around loose.” But Gizaemon hesitated, torn between his fear for his mad nephew, his distrust of Sano, and his wish to catch Reiko.
“I know how she thinks, the kind of places she would go,” Sano said. “She’ll hide from you, but she’ll come out for me.”
“Very well,” Gizaemon said reluctantly on his way out the door. “But Okimoto will keep a tight leash on you.”
Sano suddenly understood why Gizaemon was anxious to control him: He had secrets to hide. Did they have to do with Masahiro, the murder, or both?
Captain Okimoto scowled, but said, “Yes, master.” As he led Sano from the room, Hirata followed. “Hey. Where do you think you’re doing?”
“With you,” Hirata said.
“Oh no, you’re not.”
“I need you to talk to the gold merchant,” Sano told Hirata. They mustn’t delay the investigation. If they didn’t produce results for Lord Matsumae, the gods help them.
“Well, he can’t do that, either,” Okimoto retorted. “He’s not supposed to wander around by himself. Lord Matsumae’s orders.”
Then send somebody with him,“ Sano said. ”Lord Matsumae gave his permission to investigate the murder where we need to as long as we’re escorted.“
“Lord Matsumae also said everything you do has to be cleared with him in advance.”
“Fine,” Sano said. “Ask him if it’s all right for Hirata-san to go into town and interview a suspect.” Impatient because he must find Reiko before anyone else got to her, Sano added, “Come on, stop wasting time!”
“All right, all right.” Okimoto told two men to take Hirata to Lord Matsumae and the others to accompany him and Sano. “But don’t let Lord Matsumae know that the woman’s escaped or that Chamberlain Sano is looking for her instead of the killer.”
Sano realized that Lord Matsumae’s men were terrified of him even though they carried out his insane, cruel orders. Rarely had samurai duty seemed so perverted, so destructive.
“As for you,” Okimoto said to Sano and Hirata, “you’d better not try anything funny.”
As Reiko gazed up at the keep, memory cast her back to a time when a different madman, who’d called himself the Dragon King, had imprisoned her in a tower on another remote island. A sense of deja vu sickened Reiko. Now her son was the captive.
“I must rescue him!”
She started outside, but Wente ran after her. “No can go! Dangerous!”
“I don’t care!”
Wente blocked her path. “Soldiers there.” Her pretty face was stricken with alarm. “They catch you. Hurt you.”
“Not if I can help it.” Looking around the shed, Reiko saw tools hung on a wall-hammers, knives, awls, hatchets. She snatched down a sturdy knife with a wooden handle and a long, sharp steel blade.
“In case I don’t see you again, I’ll thank you now for helping me find my son,” Reiko said. “If there’s anything I can do for you in return, I will.”
“No,” Wente pleaded. Her mouth worked inside its blue tattoo as she fumbled for words. “You don’t know how go. You get lost.”
Finding her way to the keep didn’t appear difficult to Reiko, who’d navigated around huge, labyrinthine Edo all her life. “Good-bye.”
The dogs jumped in front of her. They barked and snapped. Rather than attacking her, they seemed anxious to protect her. She cried “Get away from me!” and waved her knife.
Wente uttered a command in Ezo language. The dogs retreated. She hesitated, frowned, and bit her lip. “I go with you. I show you.”
“All right,” Reiko said.
As Wente led her by the hand through the castle grounds, Reiko felt thankful to have a guide. Wente knew how to walk as if invisible. Maybe it was an Ezo talent developed while hunting game in the forests. Maybe she’d just had practice hiding from the Japanese in Fukuyama Castle. She and Reiko flitted from behind one building, tree, boulder, or snow pile to another. They avoided servants and officials who passed near them along the paths and covered corridors. Wente seemed to anticipate where the patrol guards would be. Reiko saw many across courtyards and gardens, but never near her and Wente. She felt invisible, as if Ezogashima had many different dimensions and they moved through one hidden from other humans.
Skirting the palace, they slipped through a gate and emerged into a compound. On a low hill at the center stood the keep. Seen at close range, the square tower wasn’t white but dingy gray, the plaster on its surface cracked and weather stained. Gulls swept down from the brilliant turquoise sky and perched on the tiled roofs, whose upturned eaves protruded above each story. Bars covered the small windows. Reiko squinted against the sun at them, and although she couldn’t see inside, her whole being tingled with the sense that Masahiro was there. She wanted to hurl herself at the keep.
A flight of steps led up the hill to it. The snow had been shoveled off them. At the top, the ironclad door of the keep opened. The sound of coughing drifted down to Reiko. Two young soldiers stepped out the door. They carried buckets whose liquid contents they dumped onto the snow. As they went back inside and shut the door, Reiko’s hope of rescuing Masahiro stalled like a bird shot in flight. “No can get in,” Wente whispered.
“There must be a way,” Reiko whispered back, even as she saw another soldier walk around the corner of the
