The Shogun's Daughter (21 page)

20

THE SUN ROSE
over Zōjō Temple like a red pearl dissolving in milk. Crimson light bled onto the roofs of worship halls, shrines, and pagodas. Hammering and sawing announced the day’s construction work. The temple was no haven from the rebuilding boom. Gongs tolled. Monks, priests, and nuns headed for town, a parade of people with heads shaved and begging bowls in hands, the nuns and monks in plain hemp robes, the priests in brilliant saffron.

Hirata crouched under the bridge that spanned the Sakuragawa Canal. The parade crossed the bridge with a soft thunder of straw sandals on wood planks. When the echo of the last footstep faded, he scrambled up the bank and followed the parade. Far ahead, up the highway that ran between wooded hills, Deguchi walked with his brethren. His aura made him as obvious to Hirata as if a giant red arrow were pointing down at him. Hirata hoped Deguchi wouldn’t notice he was being followed, recognize Hirata, and perceive his intentions.

Hirata meant to kill Deguchi.

Everything in him abhorred the idea. Murder was against his code of honor. He didn’t want to be a slave to a ghost. But unless he did General Otani’s bidding, Otani would kill him the next time the secret society forced him into a trance. And Hirata had promised Sano that he would make things right. The only way he could think of to dissolve the secret society was to kill the other members. He might as well start with Deguchi.

The nuns, monks, and priests entered the Nihonbashi merchant district. They fanned out through the alleys, begging alms at the shops that were open, at the market stalls. Deguchi walked east, alone. Hirata kept a safe distance from him and watched for an opportunity to kill him. It had to be someplace where no one would see. It had to be fast. One try was all Hirata would get.

Deguchi kept to the main streets, which were filled with people. He looked straight ahead; he didn’t seem to notice that he was being followed. He didn’t stop to beg. Hirata wondered where he was going.

They reached the Sumida River. The water was leaden beneath an overcast sky. Deguchi climbed into a ferryboat. Hirata stood on the embankment until Deguchi was halfway across the river. Then he hired another ferryman to row him to the opposite shore. There, he tracked Deguchi’s aura through the crowds in the Honjo entertainment district. Deguchi hurried through the quarter where townspeople were building new houses along canals. His aura crackled with impatient energy. Hirata caught up with him in an enclave where samurai officials lived in suburban villas. Deguchi slowed his pace, holding out his begging bowl to officials in palanquins and troops on horseback. Hirata followed him past estates under construction. Deguchi came to one that appeared to be finished. He circled the estate twice, not looking directly at it. The second time he neared the gate, he crossed the street. The villa there was enclosed by two-story barracks, its gate open. Trees overhung the repaired buildings to the left of the gate. Carpenters were installing new roof beams on the barracks to the right. Deguchi strolled in through the gate. Hirata waited a few moments, then followed.

Inside the estate, more carpenters were busy at work on a villa. Hirata hid behind a pile of timber and watched Deguchi stroll up to the barracks. Deguchi stood gazing up at the rooftop near the gate. Its eaves were at least twice as high as he was tall. He set his bowl on the ground, raised his arms, flexed his knees, and jumped. His fingers caught the eaves. He pulled himself up, climbed the slope of the roof, and disappeared into the trees. Hirata ran alongside the barracks and stopped some twenty paces past the spot where Deguchi had jumped. He performed the same move, less expertly. As he pulled himself onto the roof, he made loud, scuffling sounds. Crawling up it, he kicked a tile loose. It fell and shattered. Hammering covered the noise. When he was safe under the tree branches, he knelt and looked to his left.

Almost hidden by the leaves, Deguchi sat on the roof ridge, gazing across the street. He and Hirata had a good view inside the estate that Deguchi had walked around. Its barracks enclosed a garden where flowerbeds bloomed amid grasses and shrubs. Gravel paths led to a two-story mansion. Hirata turned back to Deguchi. Deguchi hadn’t moved. If he knew Hirata was near, he gave no sign. He waited patiently. Curious, Hirata delayed attacking Deguchi, although this might be his only chance.

What was Deguchi up to?

*   *   *

TAEKO SAT ALONE
on the floor of the room she shared with her little brother and Akiko. Her mother had taken away her painting things and the other children’s toys. She had nothing to occupy her. She couldn’t even look outside. Her mother had shut the doors to the veranda. She could only eavesdrop on conversations.

“Locking her inside her room for three days seems a little extreme,” Reiko’s voice said.

“It won’t hurt her,” Midori answered crossly. “She has to learn her lesson.”

Akiko’s voice said, “Can I play with Taeko?”

“No,” Midori said. “She’s being punished.”

Soon Taeko heard thumps, scuffling, and giggles beneath the floor. Akiko and Tatsuo were playing in the crawl space under the house, between the foundation posts. She remembered the times she’d wanted to be alone to paint, but she longed to join them now.

“Akiko! Tatsuo!” Midori yelled. “Come out! Didn’t Reiko and I tell you not to play under the house because of the poisonous spiders?”

A long, loud spate of hammering interrupted Taeko’s eavesdropping. “… have to find out if Yanagisawa and Yoshisato knew.” Sano’s voice.

“How?” Reiko.

Akiko and Tatsuo began stomping and whooping through the house. Midori yelled at them to be quiet.

“… wonder what she knows.” Reiko again. “I can write to her and ask her to visit me.”

“He’ll never let her.”

“It can’t hurt to try.”

Taeko wondered who they were talking about. She heard Sano leave the house. She listened for Masahiro. He didn’t seem to be home. She hadn’t meant to get him in trouble. How could she make him forgive her? Locked in her room, Taeko sighed.

It was going to be a long three days.

*   *   *

AFTER CONDUCTING TRIALS
until noon, Sano rode with Detective Marume to the Nihonbashi merchant district. Now he sat alone in the private back room of a teahouse. Through the barred window he could see into the yard of the inn across the alley. The yard was crowded with women cooking on outdoor hearths. Wet laundry draped over clotheslines. Sano smelled charcoal smoke, fermented tofu, and sewage. Many people whose homes had been destroyed by the earthquake now resided, for exorbitant prices, at the inns that had reopened. Sano listened to the women argue. Two hours passed before a man appeared at the door.

“Come in, Ishida-
san,
” Sano said.

Ishida was a tall, powerfully built samurai. His wicker hat shaded features that looked chiseled from wood. He wore garments with no identifying crests. He looked nervously outside before he shut the door. “I’m sorry to be late.”

Sano picked up a sake decanter from the table and poured a cup for his guest. “You’re paid generously to show up on time when you’re called.”

“I know, but I was on duty,” Ishida said. “If Yanagisawa catches me sneaking away, I’ll lose my post.” He was one of Yanagisawa’s personal bodyguards. He drank the sake, then rubbed his mouth. “If he finds out that I’m spying on him for you, I’m dead.”

“All right, never mind,” Sano said. It had taken ages to find someone close to Yanagisawa who was willing to inform on him. “What’s Yanagisawa been up to lately?”

“He’s being more careful than usual about talking in front of his own people.”

“How are he and Yoshisato getting along?” Sano asked, thinking of his extraordinary conversation with Yoshisato last night.

Ishida fidgeted with his hands. “Fine, I guess.”

The trouble with spies was that they didn’t always see, or tell Sano, everything. Sano broached the important question. “Did they mention that the shogun’s daughter was pregnant?”

Ishida’s stiff, wooden features slackened with surprise. “Was she really?”

It was obvious that he hadn’t heard the news from Yanagisawa, Yoshisato, or anyone else. Sano said, “Can you ask around and find out if they knew?”

The door scraped open. Sano looked up to see Yanagisawa and Yoshisato walk into the room. “Find out if who knew what?” Yanagisawa asked.

A triumphant smile twisted his mouth. Yoshisato’s expression was tight, controlled.

Dismayed, Sano turned an accusing gaze on Ishida. “You let him follow you here?” Ishida’s expression was simultaneously brazen and sheepish, as if he’d pulled off a dirty practical joke. “You told him you’re my spy?” Sano demanded.

Ishida moved to stand beside Yanagisawa. “Yes. He’s known all along.”

“He’s been feeding you false intelligence about me,” Yanagisawa said placidly.

Sano knew the risks of employing spies, but the betrayal angered him nonetheless. He glanced at Yoshisato, who stood an arm’s length from Yanagisawa. It apparently wasn’t all peace and harmony between the two.

“What were you and Ishida talking about?” Yanagisawa asked.

“The shogun’s daughter was pregnant,” Ishida said. “He wants to know if you knew.”

Sano saw Yanagisawa’s brows fly upward and lips part. A split instant later, when Sano shifted his gaze to Yoshisato, the youth wore an identical expression of shock. Their reaction was so immediate that Sano didn’t think it could have been faked.

“This is the first we’ve heard of it. All these years, everyone thought Tsuruhime was barren, and now, surprise.” Yanagisawa spoke as if he’d narrowly escaped a fatal accident. He said to Ishida, “Wait for us outside.”

Ishida left the teahouse without looking at Sano.

“It’s good for you that the child died with her and can never compete with Yoshisato to be the next shogun,” Sano said, glancing at Yoshisato again.

Yoshisato was regarding Yanagisawa with dismay, which he wiped off his face as soon as he saw Sano’s attention on him. Did he suspect that Yanagisawa had known about the pregnancy and ensured that it never reached fruition? Maybe Yanagisawa had. And maybe Yoshisato didn’t have any part in Tsuruhime’s murder.

“Come, come, Sano-
san,
” Yanagisawa said. “It wouldn’t have made any difference to me if Tsuruhime had lived to bear the child. It couldn’t have supplanted Yoshisato. He’s the shogun’s acknowledged son.”

Maybe the death of the child was just a lucky break for Yoshisato and Yanagisawa and neither had engineered it. Sano couldn’t dismiss the possibility, but he wanted Yanagisawa, if not Yoshisato, to be guilty.

“A grandson with an undisputed pedigree could very well have been a threat to a son of dubious origins,” Sano reminded Yanagisawa. “You don’t need another potential heir for your enemies to rally around.”
Especially when your own protégé is balking at your control.
Sano doubted that Yanagisawa had any inkling of the proposition Yoshisato had made him. He threw a quizzical look at Yoshisato.

Yoshisato gazed impassively back at him. Sano was of two minds about mentioning the proposition and seeing how Yanagisawa reacted. Was there more advantage in keeping it secret or in trying to drive a wedge between Yanagisawa and Yoshisato? Caution held Sano’s tongue.

“We didn’t know Tsuruhime was pregnant. You’re stupid if you think we risked killing the shogun’s daughter on the off chance that she might be a threat someday,” Yanagisawa said.

“You’re ruthless enough,” Sano said.

Yanagisawa said with growing vexation, “For the last time, I didn’t kill Tsuruhime.”

“Neither did I.” Yoshisato’s calm demeanor hid whatever he thought of Yanagisawa’s claim of innocence. “You might as well stop trying to prove we did.” As far as the murder investigation went, he and Yanagisawa were united against Sano.

“I won’t stop trying to get justice for the shogun’s daughter. If you did it, you’ll pay.” Sano looked pointedly at Yoshisato, for whom his words carried a double meaning: If Yoshisato proved to be guilty, he could forget about an alliance with Sano.

Yoshisato nodded in curt acknowledgment. Yanagisawa noticed the exchange; he frowned slightly, puzzled, then said, “There’s a rumor that Tsuruhime isn’t the shogun’s blood daughter.”

“Oh, and if the shogun isn’t Tsuruhime’s father, then he won’t care about her pregnancy or murder,” Sano retorted. “I think you just started the rumor yourself.”

Yanagisawa shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what you think. What matters is whether the shogun believes the rumor.”

Knowing how gullible the shogun was, Sano felt his spirits sink. But he said, “Go ahead, manipulate His Excellency. In the meantime, I’ll continue my investigation.”

Displeasure showed on Yoshisato’s face. Yanagisawa said with a malevolent smile, “I gave you a chance to cooperate. You’re going to wish you’d taken it.” He added, “It would be a pity if the same thing that happened to Tsuruhime’s child happened to Lady Reiko’s.”

21

IN HER ROOM,
Reiko knelt before an open chest. She smiled as she lifted out a tiny pink kimono printed with white clover blossoms. Thinking about the baby and preparing for its birth was a happy respite from her troubles. She couldn’t wait to hold her newborn child. She hadn’t decided on a name for a boy, but if it was a girl, she would name it Yuki—snow.

Akiko, standing beside her, said, “What’s that?”

“This is what you wore when you were a baby.” Reiko had saved some of Akiko’s and Masahiro’s nicest baby clothes. She laid out a row of colorful garments.

“They’re pretty. Can I have them for my doll?”

“They’re for your new baby sister or brother,” Reiko said.

Akiko’s face bunched into a pout. “I said I don’t want a new baby.”

“You’ll feel differently when it comes,” Reiko said, trying to convince herself as well as Akiko. “A live baby is more fun than a doll.”

“No, it’s not.” Akiko looked ready to cry.

Distressed by her daughter’s unhappiness, Reiko said, “All right, you can have this one.” She held out the pink kimono.