The Cloud Pavilion

Edo Genroku Year 14, Month 5 (Tokyo, June 1701)

Prologue

The pain pierced like knives into her breast and jarred her out of black unconsciousness. A gray blur swirled across her vision, as if she were looking up at a sky filled with windblown mist and clouds. Through dizzying nausea flashed pure, visceral terror.

Where was she? How had she come to be here?

A touch grazed her thigh. She gasped as fingers caressed her. The clouds had hands! Hands that were warm, and damp with the mist. As they stroked her hips and groin, she became aware of movement around her, of human flesh pressing on hers. The clouds inhaled and exhaled quick, hoarse gasps. There was a man with her. He and she floated together, suspended in the clouds, somewhere far above the earth. Her terror worsened.

Who was he?

She couldn't see him through the clouds, but she smelled the foul stench of his sweat; she sensed his lust. She knew what his caresses on the most intimate parts of her body portended.

She called for help, but the clouds absorbed and dissipated the sound. She tried to push the man away, but her arms, her legs, her muscles and bones, seemed disconnected from her will. She couldn't feel them, or any part of herself, except where the man's hands touched. Her heart was a disembodied pulse that thudded with panic.

Black waves of sleep welled up around her. Although she craved merciful oblivion, instinct compelled her to fight for her life. The blackness permeated the clouds, drawing her into its depths. She struggled to retain consciousness.

A new stab of pain, in her other breast, revived her again. The shape of the man, clothed in mist, spread above her eyes. He lowered his weight upon her. The clouds swayed under them, buoyed them while he gasped louder and faster. She felt an awful, tearing thrust between her legs. Thunder reverberated.

His face suddenly protruded through the swirling clouds. They stretched like a tight, opaque skin across his features. Two holes that appeared cut in the mist revealed his eyes, which glittered with desire and cruelty. Beneath them opened another hole, his mouth. The lips were red and swollen and moist; sharp teeth glistened with saliva. She smelled the hot, noxious rush of his breath.

She screamed.

For only an instant did she glimpse him. The clouds veiled her eyes as he took her. His every move within her was agony, flesh sawing flesh. The waves of sleep rose up and drenched her in a black fountain, obliterating his shape from view, the sensations from her awareness. The thunder crashed, distant and faint now. She heard the clatter of rain falling.

Then she plunged into a dark, silent void.

1

Conch trumpets blared a battle cry. War drums boomed. On the opposite banks of a small lake stood two generals clad in leather armor and metal helmets. They waved their war fans and shouted the command.

"Attack!"

Two armies of mounted troops plunged into the lake and charged. Chamberlain Sano Ichir rode at the forefront of his yelling, whooping comrades. Water splashed his armor as his horse galloped toward the onrushing enemy legion. He and his army drew their swords while their mounts swam into the deep middle of the lake. The opposition met them, swords waving, lances aimed. On shore the generals barked orders to stay in ranks, but in the lake it was utter chaos.

Soldiers hacked wildly at one another with their swords and lances. The noise of wooden weapons battering armor and metal deafened Sano. As he fought, he sat in his saddle waist-deep in water that was filthy with mud and manure. His army's mounts buffeted his horse, rammed his legs. Sano thanked the gods for iron shin guards. He swatted his opponent, knocking the man off his mount. A rider armed with a lance charged at Sano. Sano whacked the lance with his sword. Unbalanced, the rider toppled into the lake. Cheers and applause resounded.

The audience was crowded in stands alongside the artificial lake and leaning out of windows in the covered corridors that topped the walls which enclosed the Edo Castle martial arts practice grounds. Spectators laughed as they egged on the armies, enjoying the tournament.

But Sano and everyone else who competed in them knew that these tournaments were almost as dangerous as real battles. Somebody always got hurt. Sometimes players were killed. Audiences enjoyed that the best. It was the most exciting part of the game.

The lake grew crowded with men who'd fallen in. They frantically swam, trying to avoid being kicked or crushed by the horses. Fighters howled in genuine pain from the blows dealt by the blunt yet heavy wooden weapons. Sano took a whack on his shoulder and knew he'd have a big bruise tomorrow. As he parried his opponent's strikes, he thought that perhaps, at his age of forty-three years, he was too old for tournaments. But it was his duty to participate for as long as he could.

"Stop!" cried a shrill, reedy voice.

The battle suddenly halted. Men reined in their horses and froze as if turned to stone. Sano sat with his sword crossed against his opponent's. In the lake, men treaded water. Blades hovered, suspended in the act of striking.

"Hold that pose!" the shogun called from inside a pavilion that stood on a rise near one end of the lake.

Thunder grumbled, and a drizzly rain began to fall from the misty gray summer sky, but nobody dared move.

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, the supreme dictator of Japan, knelt at a table spread with paper, ink-stones, and jars that held brushes and water. He wore a smock over his silk robes, and the cylindrical black cap of his rank. He squinted at the battle scene, then sketched rapidly with his brush. An admirer of all forms of art, he dabbled in painting, and equestrian scenes were among his favorite subjects. Sano had seen his work and thought it not bad, certainly better than his leadership over Japan.

"That's enough," the shogun called. "Continue!"

The battle resumed with increased gusto. Soldiers swung, blades whacked, more riders fell. Sano fought with less care for martial arts technique than determination to avoid a ludicrous accidental death. He had to admit that tournaments were rather fun, in addition to serving purposes even more important than entertaining his lord.

Edo, the capital of the Tokugawa regime, was a city populated by more than a million people, some hundred thousand of them samurai. That equaled too many armed men with not enough to do during a peacetime that had lasted almost a century with only minor interruptions. There hadn't been a battle since Lord Matsudaira had defeated his rival, Yanagisawa Yoshiyasu, seven years ago. A conflict had then flared up between Lord Matsudaira and Sano, but had ended with Lord Matsudaira's ritual suicide last spring. Now the troops were restless.

Tournaments not only occupied the samurai class and offered it a chance to improve martial arts skills that had declined. They burned off energy that would otherwise be applied to brawling, starting insurrections, and generally causing trouble.

A bell clanged, signaling the battle's end, not a moment too soon for Sano. He and his army rode, swam, and trudged to one side of the lake while the enemy forces retreated to the other. The judge counted the men who hadn't fallen in the water, then announced, "Team Number One is the winner."

The men on Sano's side cheered, as did the audience. The opposition looked disgruntled. Sano urged his horse up the bank, then jumped out of the saddle. He slipped on the mud and would have fallen, but a strong hand gripped his arm. He turned to see who'd caught him. It was a tall samurai in a black armor tunic with red lacings. The samurai took off his helmet. Sano beheld the handsome face of Yanagisawa, his onetime foe.

"Many thanks," Sano said.

"It was my pleasure," Yanagisawa said.

He and Sano had a long, bitter history. Yanagisawa had been chamberlain when Sano had entered the shogun's service twelve years ago. Yanagisawa had once viewed Sano as a rival, had schemed to destroy him. A murder investigation on which they'd been forced to collaborate had resulted in a truce, and later his conflict with Lord Matsudaira had taken Yanagisawa's attention off Sano. Lord Matsudaira had capped his victory by exiling Yanagisawa to Hachijo Island. But Yanagisawa had escaped and sneaked back to Edo, where he'd operated behind the scenes, stealing allies from Sano and Lord Matsudaira, pitting them against each other, and engineering Lord Matsudaira's downfall. Last spring Sano had forced Yanagisawa out of hiding. Yanagisawa had made a triumphant comeback that coincided with Lord Matsudaira's suicide.

With Lord Matsudaira dead, the game was once again between Sano and Yanagisawa. They'd done unforgivable things to each other, and Sano had expected Yanagisawa to renew his attacks with a vengeance. Sano had braced himself for the fight of his life.

It hadn't come.

Now Yanagisawa smiled in the same friendly fashion with which he'd treated Sano since a few days after he'd made his reappearance on the political scene. He smoothed his hair, which had grown back since he'd shaved his head to disguise himself as a priest while in hiding. It was too short to tie in the customary samurai topknot, but thick and glossy and black even though he and Sano were the same age and Sano's hair had begun turning gray.

"You fought a good battle," Yanagisawa said.

Sano listened for nuances of hostility in Yanagisawa's tone but heard none. "So did you."

Yanagisawa laughed. "We slaughtered those poor bastards."

Not once had he lifted a hand to harm Sano. For over a year he and Sano had coexisted in a peace that Sano hadn't thought possible. Not that Sano minded a reprieve from feuding and assassination attempts, but their pleasant camaraderie felt all wrong, like the sun shining at midnight.

He and Yanagisawa took their places at the head of their rowdy, cheering army. The judge said to them, "Your team wins the top prize for equestrian combat in water-a barrel of the best sake for each man. I commend your excellent coaching."

"Isn't it a good thing we're on the same side now?" Yanagisawa said to Sano.

"Indeed," Sano said with feigned enthusiasm.

Yanagisawa was up to something. Sano knew.

So did everybody else. Sano had overheard their colleagues in the government speculating about what Yanagisawa had in store for him and taking bets as to when Yanagisawa would make his first move.

The shogun came hurrying up to them. He was thin, frail, and looked a decade older than his fifty-five years. A servant held an umbrella over his head, protecting him from the drizzle. "Ahh, Sano-san, Yanagisawa-san!" he exclaimed. Delight animated his weak, aristocratic features. "Congratulations on your, ahh, victory!"

Sano and Yanagisawa bowed and made modest disclaimers. Yanagisawa didn't try to hog the credit or make Sano look bad, as he would have in the past. Sano didn't trust this radical change in behavior.

"You make such a good team," the shogun said. "I think I, ahh, made the right decision when I appointed both of you as my chamberlains."

They shared the post of chamberlain and second-in-command to the shogun. That honor, which had first belonged solely to Yanagisawa, had passed to Sano when Yanagisawa had been exiled. When Yanagisawa returned, he'd expected to regain the post, and Sano had been ready to fight to keep it. But the shogun, always loath to exercise his judgment, had been unable to choose which one of them he preferred and made the unprecedented move of splitting the job between two men.

Two men whose antagonism could wreak havoc in the government and tear Japan apart.

Some said it was the most foolish decision ever made by this dictator not known for wisdom. Nobody thought the partnership between Sano and Yanagisawa would last a day without a blowup. But it had defied the odds.

Sano had expected Yanagisawa to oppose everything he did, to undermine his standing with the shogun, to try to turn every powerful man inside and outside the regime against him and run him out of office. But Yanagisawa had cooperated fully and, to all appearances, gladly with Sano. Together they'd overseen the huge, complicated machine of the bakufu-Japan's military government-with smooth, startling efficiency.

Yanagisawa lifted his eyebrow at Sano. "Imagine all the good we could have accomplished years ago if we'd been working together."

Instead of you trying to kill me and me trying to fend you off, Sano thought. "Two heads are better than one," he said out loud.

"Yes, yes," the shogun agreed happily.

Because he hated and feared conflict, he was glad to see his two dearest friends getting along so well. He didn't know they'd ever been enemies or had once vied for control of his regime, which was tantamount to treason. He was astoundingly oblivious to what went on around him, and Sano and Yanagisawa enforced a conspiracy of silence to keep the shogun ignorant.

Often Sano suspected the shogun knew the truth perfectly well, but acknowledging it would require him to take action for which he hadn't the stomach.

"Well, the fun's over," Yanagisawa said. "It's back to business for us, Honorable Chamberlain Sano."

"Yes, Honorable Chamberlain Yanagisawa," Sano said.

Although his former enemy's words were spoken with no trace of a threat, Sano searched them for hidden meanings. He knew the game between him and Yanagisawa was still on, and he was at a serious disadvantage.

Sano's spies hadn't managed to dig up a single clue as to what Yanagisawa was plotting. To all appearances, Yanagisawa had decided that it was better to join forces with Sano instead of risking his neck again. Yanagisawa had reportedly told his allies among the top officials and the daimyo-feudal lords who governed Japan's provinces-that he wasn't interested in fighting Sano anymore. And he'd not tried to recruit Sano's allies to his side.

Yanagisawa had changed the rules of the game, but Sano didn't know what they were. He felt like a blind samurai heading into battle. He could only wait, a sitting target.

The audience departed; the armies dispersed. Waterlogged troops trudged off to drink, celebrate, commiserate, or bathe. Grooms took charge of the horses. The shogun climbed into his palanquin, and his bearers carried him toward the palace. Yanagisawa looked past Sano and said, "I believe there's someone who would like your attention."

Sano turned. He saw, some thirty paces away, an elderly samurai waiting alone beside the stands, watching him. Recognition jolted Sano. Into his heart crept a cold sensation of dread.

2

Sano stood perfectly still as the samurai walked across the martial arts ground toward him. Everyone else receded to the edges of his awareness. Sano felt as if he and the samurai were alone on the muddy, trampled field. He suppressed an irrational urge to draw his sword. Its blade was wooden, and this encounter wasn't a duel.

Then again, perhaps it was.

The samurai stopped a few paces from Sano. He was in his sixties, his physique lean but strong, his shoulders held squarely rigid. He wore a metal helmet, and a leather armor tunic with the Tokugawa triple-hollyhock-leaf crest embossed on its breastplate over a silk robe and trousers striped in dark gray and black. An insignia on his helmet showed that he held the rank of major in the army. His forehead was severely creased, as if from too much frowning. Harsh lines bracketed his tight mouth.

"Good day," he said, bowing. "Please permit me to introduce myself." His deep voice had a faint quaver of old age and an oddly familiar ring. "I am Kumazawa Hiroyuki."

"I know," Sano said.

He'd never met Major Kumazawa face-to-face; they'd never spoken. But he'd observed the man from a distance and knew everything about him that the official government records, and Sano's own spies, could tell. In Sano's desk was a dossier on the entire Kumazawa clan. Sano had compiled it after a murder investigation that had revealed secret facts about his own background.

His parents had led him to believe that his mother came from humble peasant stock. Not until last spring, when she'd been accused of a crime hidden in her past, had Sano learned the truth: Her kin were high-ranking Tokugawa vassals. They'd disowned her because of a mistake she'd made when she was a girl, and she'd never seen them again.

Now Sano felt a flame of anger heat his blood. Major Kumazawa was the head of the clan that had treated Sano's mother so cruelly. Sano said, "Do you know who I am?"

Major Kumazawa didn't pretend to misunderstand, didn't give the obvious answer that everybody knew the famous Chamberlain Sano. "Yes. You are the son of my younger sister Etsuko." He spoke as if the words tasted bad. "That makes you my nephew."

It was just as Sano had suspected: Although he had long been ignorant of his connection with the Kumazawa, they had been aware that their blood ran in his veins. They must have kept track of his mother and her son through the years; they must have followed his career.

The flame of Sano's anger grew. The Kumazawa had spied on him and never deigned to seek his acquaintance. That casting off his mother and refusing to recognize her offspring was what any high-society family would have done under the circumstances did not appease Sano. He was insulted that his uncle should treat him with such disdain. He also experienced other emotions he hadn't expected.

Since learning about his new relatives, he had intended to get in touch with them, but kept putting it off. He was busy running the government and advising the shogun; he didn't have time. Or so he'd told himself. But he'd entertained secret fantasies about summoning his uncle to his mansion and impressing him with how well he had done without any help from their clan. The fantasies shamed Sano; he knew they were childish. Now, here he was, face-to-face with his uncle, soaked with water polluted by horse dung. He felt less like the shogun's second-in-command than an outcast.

"I don't suppose you approached me in order to inquire about my mother," he said in his coldest, most formal tone.

"No," Major Kumazawa said, equally cold. "But I will ask. How is she?"

"Quite well." No thanks to you, Sano thought. "She was widowed eleven years ago, when my father died." My father was the rnin-the lowly masterless samurai-that your family forced her to marry, to get her off your hands. "But she remarried last fall." To the man with whom she had an illicit affair, the results of which caused your clan to disown her. "She and her new husband are living in Yamato."

The murder investigation had re united Sano's mother with the onetime monk she'd fallen in love with as a girl. Loving him still, she'd happily given up her home and her old life in Edo to join him in the village where he'd settled.

"So I've heard," said Major Kumazawa. "Of course, I'm not responsible for what became of your mother."

Sano was glad she'd found happiness after years of disgrace and misery inflicted by her relatives, but she'd left him with unfinished business. "Not directly responsible, perhaps."

Major Kumazawa frowned, deepening the wrinkles in his forehead, at Sano's bitter tone. "My father disowned Etsuko. When he died and I became head of the clan, I merely honored his wishes. Were you in my position, you'd have no choice but to do the same."

Sano didn't think he'd have been so unyielding for the sake of mere convention. He knew it was unreasonable for him to be disturbed about something that had happened so long ago, which his mother had forgiven. Yet he felt that a personal injury had been done to him by Major Kumazawa. He had the strange sensation that they'd met before, although he knew they had not.

"So you upheld your family's ban on contact with my mother, which extended to me," Sano said. "Why break it now?"

Major Kumazawa spoke reluctantly, as if fighting an internal struggle against tradition and duty. "Because I need a favor."

"Ah," Sano said. "I should have guessed." Since he'd become chamberlain, thousands of people had lined up outside his door to ask for favors. Sano regarded his uncle with disgust.

"Do you think I like crawling to you, the son of my disgraced sister?" Major Kumazawa said, angry himself now. "Do you think I want to ask you for anything?"

"Obviously not," Sano retorted, "so I'll spare you the grief."

He turned and started to walk away toward the gate in the stone wall that enclosed the martial arts ground. Beyond the gate lay the shogun's palace, the official quarter, and Sano's own spacious compound-the rarefied world in which he'd earned a place. He wasn't even curious about what his uncle wanted. It had to be money, a promotion, or a job for a friend or relative. It always was.

"Wait. Don't go," Major Kumazawa called.

The anger had disappeared from his voice, which now resonated with such pleading that Sano halted. "I can understand why you don't like me or want to help me," Major Kumazawa said. "But the favor I need isn't for my benefit. It's for someone who had nothing to do with what happened to your mother, who's never done wrong to you or anybody else. Someone who is in serious danger."

That got Sano's attention. His conscience and his honor wouldn't let him walk away from an innocent person in danger. Facing his uncle, he said, "Who is it?"

The sternness of Major Kumazawa's expression had hardened, as though he were trying to keep his emotions at bay. "It's my daughter."

Sano knew that Major Kumazawa had three daughters and two sons-Sano's cousins. All of whom Sano had never seen.

"Her name is Chiyo," Major Kumazawa said. "She's my youngest child."

"What about her?" Sano recalled her name from the dossier. She was thirty-three years old, the wife of a captain in the army of a rich, powerful daimyo. She'd married very late, at age twenty-seven. Informants had told Sano that she was her father's favorite and Major Kumazawa had delayed her marriage to keep her at home while he found her the best possible husband.

"She's missing," Major Kumazawa said.

Sano remembered that terrible winter when his own son had been kidnapped, and he and his wife, Reiko, had suffered the pain of not knowing what had happened to their beloved child while fearing the worst. His resistance toward his uncle began to crumble.

"I know Chiyo is none of your concern, but please hear me out," Major Kumazawa said with the gruffness of a man unaccustomed to begging.

"All right." Sano had to listen; he owed his uncle that, if nothing else.

"Chiyo disappeared the day before yesterday. She had gone to the Awashima Shrine." Obviously relieved that Sano had given him another chance, yet hating his role as a supplicant, Major Kumazawa explained, "She gave birth to a child last month. A boy." It was the custom for mothers to take their new babies to shrines to be blessed. "She went with her attendants. There was a big crowd at the shrine. One moment Chiyo was there, and the next…"

Major Kumazawa held up his palms. "Gone." Anguish showed through his rigid expression.

Whenever Sano thought of the night his son, Masahiro, had disappeared-during a party at a temple-he shivered. "What happened to the baby?"

"He was found lying outside the shrine. Thank the gods he's safe," said Major Kumazawa. "Chiyo's guards couldn't find her. They went home and told her husband what had happened. He told me. We both gathered all the troops we could and sent them out to search for Chiyo. They're still out looking, but there's been not a sign of her. It's as if she just vanished into the air."

Sano knew that his uncle commanded a Tokugawa garrison outside Edo, and Chiyo's husband must have many men serving under him, but the city was too big for them to cover thoroughly. "Did you report Chiyo's disappearance to the police?"

"Of course. I went to their headquarters. They took my report and said they would keep an eye out for her." Major Kumazawa expelled his breath in a disdainful huff. "They said that was all they could do."

The police had their hands full keeping order in the city, Sano knew. They couldn't drop everything to search for one woman, even if her father was a Tokugawa army officer. A major didn't rate high enough.

"Could Chiyo have run away on her own?" Sano asked.

"That's impossible. She wouldn't have left her children and husband without so much as an explanation."

"I suppose you've considered the possibility that Chiyo was kidnapped," Sano said.

"What else could I think?" Worry about his daughter showed through Major Kumazawa's sarcasm. "People don't just drop off the face of the earth."

"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Chiyo?"

"Nobody. She's a good, decent, harmless girl."

"Do you have any enemies?" Sano asked.

"Every man with some standing in the world has enemies," Major Kumazawa said. "You of all people should know that. I talked to a few men who have grudges against me, but they insisted that they had nothing to do with Chiyo's disappearance. I think they're telling the truth. They treated me as if I'd gone insane," he added morosely.

"There's been no ransom letter?"

"No letter," Major Kumazawa said. "I'm at my wits' end. You have a reputation as a great detective. That's why I've come to you-to ask you to find my daughter."

Sano could not refuse, for reasons almost as important as saving a woman in peril. His son, Masahiro, wasn't the only member of his family who'd been kidnapped. So had his wife, Reiko, seven years ago. Had Sano not managed to rescue her, he would have lost his wife and Masahiro his mother. Sano couldn't withhold his help from another family facing a similar disastrous situation.

"You don't owe me anything," Major Kumazawa said. "You're bitter about the past. But don't hold it against Chiyo. She wasn't even born when my parents disowned your mother. She had no say in the matter of our clan keeping ourselves apart from you. For her sake, not mine, please help me. Do you want me to beg? I will. I'll do anything to save my daughter!"

Major Kumazawa dropped heavily to his knees, as if the tendons behind them had been slashed. Alone on the muddy field, he looked like a general who'd lost a battle and must commit suicide rather than live with the disgrace. He took off his helmet. The damp wind ruffled gray hair that had escaped from his topknot. For once he seemed human, vulnerable. He gazed up at Sano, his eyes fierce with entreaty and humiliation.

Sano had once imagined forcing his uncle to kneel to him, subjugating the man who'd maintained his mother's banishment from her family. But now he felt no satisfaction. He had too much sympathy for Major Kumazawa's plight.

"Very well," Sano said. "I'm at your service."

He had wanted a chance to know his new clan, and here it was. Perhaps he could even re unite his mother with her family, which he knew she'd always longed for.

Major Kumazawa bowed his head. "A thousand thanks." His tone held less relief than resentment, as if he'd done Sano a favor. Although Sano understood that his uncle had lost face, a painful blow to a proud samurai, he was offended at being treated with such a lack of respect or appreciation. Then again, what else could he have expected?

"Don't thank me yet," Sano said. There was no guarantee that he would find Chiyo alive. She'd been gone two days, long enough for the worst to happen. "I'm not making any promises."

3

The corpse of a young samurai lay amid the irises and reeds beside a pond coated with green algae. Blood covered the front of his kimono. A mosquito alighted between his closed eyes.

His hand flew up and swatted the mosquito.

"Don't move!" cried Chamberlain Sano's son, Masahiro, from behind a nearby tree. Almost ten years old, dressed in kimono, surcoat, and trousers, with two swords at his waist, he bore a strong resemblance to his father. He wore his hair in a forelock tied above his brow, the custom for young samurai who hadn't reached manhood. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"I'm sorry, young master, but these bugs are eating me up," the samurai said contritely. "How much longer do I have to lie here like this?"

The boy tiptoed slowly across the grass toward the samurai. "Until after I discover your body."

From inside the mansion whose wings enclosed the garden, Lady Reiko stepped out onto the veranda. She was beautiful in a green silk summer kimono patterned with dragonflies and water lilies. Lacquer combs anchored her upswept hairdo. "What's going on?" she called.

"I'm playing detective," Masahiro answered. "Lieutenant Tanuma is the murder victim."

"Not again!" Reiko sighed.

She wasn't sure what to make of her son's game. On the one hand, she was proud of his cleverness, his imagination. Most boys his age only played ball or fought mock battles. On the other hand, Reiko was concerned about his preoccupation with violent death. He had seen too much of it in his short life, and had even killed, in self-defense. Reiko and Sano blamed their life at the center of political turmoil, and their habit of talking too freely about the murder cases they'd investigated together. They'd thought Masahiro was too young to understand what they were saying, but they'd been wrong.

Masahiro pretended to stumble upon Lieutenant Tanuma. "What's this?" he exclaimed, and laughed. "Oh, a corpse!"

Reiko didn't know whether to be glad he had a sense of humor after everything that had happened to him, or worried that his experiences had made him callous, or simply horrified that he'd invented such a ghoulish pastime.

"What is that red substance on Lieutenant Tanuma's clothes?" she asked, hoping it wasn't actually blood.

"It's ink," Masahiro said.

"You shouldn't make Lieutenant Tanuma play with you," Reiko said. "It's not his job."

Tanuma was her chief bodyguard when she went outside the estate. "I don't mind," he said. A homely, serious young man, he'd replaced Reiko's favorite, Lieutenant Asukai, who'd died last year in the line of duty. Reiko still missed the handsome, gallant, and adventurous Asukai, who had saved her life more than once. But Tanuma did his own, solemn best. "Anything to entertain the young master."

"Don't spoil him," Reiko protested.

Masahiro was rummaging through the reeds. "Where's the murder weapon? I put it right down here."

Giggles issued from behind a flower bed. Out peeked Masahiro's two-year-old sister, Akiko. She held up a dagger whose blade was stained red.

"Hey! You stole it!" Masahiro said. "Give it to me!"

As he stalked toward Akiko, she ran. "Come here, you little thief!" He chased her while she waved the dagger and laughed, her pigtails and the skirt of her pink kimono flying. She was happy to have the attention of the big brother she adored, who was always too busy to play with her. Reiko gasped in alarm.

"That's a real dagger! Masahiro, you know you shouldn't leave weapons lying around where your sister can get at them. She could hurt herself!"

Reiko joined the chase. When she finally caught Akiko, she was breathless and perspiring, her hair windblown. She took away the dagger and said, "The game is over."

Lieutenant Tanuma got to his feet, bowed, and made a quick exit. Masahiro said, "But Mother-"

"Don't you have lessons to study?" Reiko said.

"I'm finished."

"Then practice martial arts."

"I already did."

"Can't you play other games that don't involve weapons or murder?"

"Yes, but this is the most exciting." As he traipsed off toward the house with Akiko tagging after him, Masahiro added wistfully, "It's been a long time since anything exciting has happened around here."

It had been more than a year, Reiko thought, since Lord Matsudaira's death had put an end to the political strife that had threatened their family. Reiko shuddered to think of that dreadful time, when she and her children had lived in a state of siege, prisoners in their own home, under constant guard. Lord Matsudaira's final attack had come from assassins he'd planted in the house hold. Reiko and the children had barely escaped death. She still had nightmares. She didn't miss those days, and she was disconcerted to see that Masahiro did.

She had to remind herself that Masahiro was too young to realize how serious their situation had been. Children, especially strong, brave boys like her son, believed they were invincible. And Masahiro thrived under conditions that most people found traumatic. No wonder he thought the current state of peace was boring.

Today Reiko realized that she agreed.

At first she'd been thankful for the peace and quiet. She'd been glad that Yanagisawa apparently didn't intend to continue his hostilities against Sano. She'd wanted only to raise her family without fear; she was glad not to worry every day about whether Sano would come home alive. For the past year she'd devoted herself to being a good mother and wife. She'd become very domestic, taking up feminine activities such as flower-arranging. Since the political situation had stabilized and Sano seemed likely to hold his position for a while, people had flocked to curry favor with him. Prominent men had sent their wives to cultivate Reiko because she had strong influence with the chamberlain. The wives brought their children to play with hers. Reiko found some of the wives dull and catty, but others intelligent and stimulating. She'd made new friends and enjoyed the social whirl.

But enough was enough.

As Reiko stood alone in the garden, her old, adventurous spirit revived. She looked up at the gray clouds, ever-present during this extremely wet rainy season. The leaves of the trees, the shrubs, and the grasses were lush and green. She felt the mist in the air, heard birdsong. She appreciated the natural beauty around her, but where was the challenge?

She wasn't meant for the circumscribed existence that was normal for women of her class. She missed the days when she'd run a service that helped women in trouble, when she'd helped Sano solve crimes. Reiko inhaled deeply, as if trying to breathe her native air of excitement and danger.

She was eager to take on a new investigation. But how? And when?

4

Sano rode his horse out the northern portal of Edo Castle toward the temple where his cousin Chiyo had last been seen. Although peace had blessed the capital for more than a year, troops still stood sentry outside the massive iron-banded gate and occupied the guard house above. More troops manned the watchtowers. Political or civil unrest could start up again any day. A squadron from his personal army accompanied Sano. He wouldn't put it past Yanagisawa to attack him after lulling him into complacence.

His chief bodyguards, Detectives Marume and Fukida, trotted their mounts beside him along the road that sloped down from the castle. Below them spread the gray tile rooftops of the vast city, whose far reaches disappeared into the mist and rain that cloaked the hills. The brawny, cheerful Marume drew a deep breath of the humid air and said, "It feels good to be out and about again. We've been cooped up inside the castle forever."

"I'm sorry your cousin is missing, Sano-san, but I'm glad to have a new investigation," said Fukida, the serious half of the pair.

Sano shared his men's renewed sense of energy and excitement. The thrill of the chase was a relief after sitting at a desk, shuffling papers, conducting meetings, and defusing crises in the government. That was one reason he'd decided to lead the search himself, even though he'd had to put off other important business.

"And guess what," Marume said. "This is the first time we're not working for the shogun."

"For once he won't be holding the threat of death over our heads," Fukida said.

"Thank the gods for small favors," Sano said.

He and his men laughed, enjoying their unusual freedom. But darker currents of emotion ran beneath Sano's high spirits.

He had a blood connection to the missing woman even though he'd never met Chiyo. He couldn't leave her fate to someone else, not even his most trusted subordinates. And what if he didn't find her? What if she was dead when he did? Not only would a father lose his favorite daughter, a husband his wife, and two children their mother, but Sano would lose an opportunity to know this member of his new family.

"My gut tells me that we'll find your cousin," Marume said.

"Your gut has gotten fat from sitting around and eating too much," Fukida teased with a straight face.

Marume reached behind Sano, swatted at Fukida, and said, "No, I'm telling you, this is our lucky day. But even if we don't find her, at least Major Kumazawa can't kill us."

Nevertheless, Sano feared disappointing Major Kumazawa. He shouldn't care what this relative who'd ostracized him from their clan thought of him, but he did. Meeting his uncle had reawakened feelings of inferiority that he'd believed he'd shed years ago. That short time with Major Kumazawa had reverted him to the mere son of a rnin he'd once been. If he didn't find Chiyo, his uncle's low opinion of him would be justified. And even though the strong, independent part of Sano said, to hell with Major Kumazawa, that would hurt.

"It must be strange to meet relatives that you spent most of your life never knowing you had," Fukida said.

"You can't imagine," Sano said.

Asakusa Kannon Temple, dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist deity of mercy and salvation, was Edo's most popular temple. The route to Asakusa district lay along the sh Kaid, the northern highway. Beyond the edge of town, the highway was built up on a wide earthen embankment above rice paddies. A few peasants, water buffaloes, and tiny huts dotted the lush, green paddies. The air stank of the nightsoil used for fertilizer. Even on this wet afternoon in the rainy season, Sano and his entourage found the highway crowded with traffic.

Bands of religious pilgrims, carrying staffs and chanting prayers, marched in step. Itinerant priests trudged, laden with heavy packs. Families traveled to Asakusa for blessings. Samurai rode, the privilege of their class; commoners walked. But not all the traffic was connected with religion.

Once Sano and his party had to steer their horses to the edge of the highway to make way for a cart drawn by oxen and heaped with roof tiles. Carts like this, owned by the government, were the only wheeled vehicles permitted by Tokugawa law. This restricted the movement of war supplies and prevented insurrections, at least in theory.

Many of the other travelers weren't going to Asakusa at all. Beyond the temple lay the Yoshiwara licensed pleasure quarter, the only place in Edo where prostitution was legal. Merchants riding in palanquins, gangs of townsmen on foot, and samurai on horse back streamed toward Yoshiwara's brothels. The law banned samurai from the pleasure quarter, but they went in droves anyway. Yoshiwara was good for business in the temple district. Men traveling to Yoshiwara often stopped at the temple for rest, refreshments, and prayers, combining the profane with the sacred.

"What was your cousin doing in Asakusa? If she wanted to go to a shrine, why not one in town?" Marume asked.

"The Kumazawa family estate is out there," Sano said.

His uncle was in charge of guarding the shogun's rice depots, located on the river east of Asakusa. He also commanded the troops that patrolled the district. The Kumazawa house was the one in which Sano's mother had grown up, but Sano had yet to lay eyes on it.

Perhaps he soon would.

Within an hour, Asakusa appeared on the misty horizon. Originally a small outpost of the city, the site of a temple since ancient times, it had grown into a large, flourishing suburb. Other temples clustered around Asakusa Kannon like chicks around a hen. Above the rooftops rose the graceful silhouettes of pagodas. The rice fields gave way to houses on streets that branched off the highway. The neighborhood soon grew as dense as any in town. Hawkers wooed customers into shops that sold Buddhist rosaries, incense, shoes, fans, umbrellas, and other merchandise-a bargain-priced sampling of the goods sold at the big market inside the temple precinct. Balconies adorned with potted plants sheltered the crowds from the drizzle that began to fall. The streets narrowed; Sano and his men rode in single file. Marume led, scouting a safe passage.

"Have you any ideas about what happened to your cousin?" Fukida said, trailing behind Sano with the other guards.

"The only thing I know for sure is that Chiyo is either gone from this district or still inside it," Sano said. "We'll try to determine which is the case."

He dismounted at a gate that divided one block from the next. These gates were features common to all cities. At night they were closed to keep residents confined and prevent trouble; by day, they served as security checkpoints. "This is as good a place to start as any."

Marume backtracked to join Sano and the other men. "Isn't this territory that your uncle has already covered?"

"He might have overlooked something," Sano said, then addressed the watchman at the gate. "I'm looking for a missing woman," he began.

The watchman was a young peasant; he'd been chatting with a tea-seller who'd put down his bucket and cups and stopped to rest. His round face blanched with fright. "I haven't seen her, I swear!" He fell to his knees, bowed, and cringed, almost in tears. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"If you haven't done anything wrong, then why are you so afraid?" Sano asked.

The tea-seller, an older man with the bluff, confident air of a street merchant, said, "Because of that other samurai who came by yesterday, asking about a missing woman. He and his soldiers roughed up anyone they thought was hiding something or who didn't answer fast enough."

Dismay spread through Sano. "Who was he?"

"I don't know. He didn't bother to introduce himself. He had deep wrinkles here, and here." The tea-seller drew his finger across his forehead and down his cheeks.

"Major Kumazawa," Sano said grimly.

The tea-seller gestured at the watchman. "He gave my poor friend here quite a beating."

"It sounds like your uncle hasn't exactly smoothed the way for us," Marume said.

"I understand how desperate he must be to find his daughter," Fukida said, "but beating up witnesses won't help."

Sano had thought this would be one investigation he could conduct without interference. "My apologies for what happened to you," he said to the watchman. "Now tell me if you've seen a strange woman wandering by herself, or being forced to go with someone, or looking as if she were in trouble."

The watchman swore that he hadn't. So did the tea-seller.

"She's thirty-three years old, and she was wearing a lavender kimono with small white flowers on it," Sano said. He'd asked his uncle what clothes Chiyo had been wearing. "Think hard. Are you sure you haven't seen a woman who matched that description?"

Both men said they were. Sano believed them. He and his comrades moved on, along a street of food-stalls. Vendors grilled eels, prawns, and squid on skewers over open hearths, boiled pots of rice, noodles, and soup. Fragrant steam and smoke billowed into the drizzle.

"I'm hungry," Marume said.

"You always are," Fukida said.

Sano hadn't eaten since morning, before the tournament. He and his men bought food. After they ate, they questioned more people. They soon learned that Major Kumazawa and his troops had already passed through the whole area that surrounded the temple, intimidating, torturing, and offending everywhere. And Sano's attempts to trace Chiyo proved as futile as his uncle's.

"No, I haven't seen her," said one vendor, shopkeeper, and peddler after another.

"Nobody's hiding a woman on my block," said the headmen of every street.

"Major Kumazawa threatened to have my head cut off if I didn't help him find his daughter, so I've been looking for her on my rounds," said a doshin-police patrol officer. "I've questioned everyone I've met, but no luck."

"It's looking as if she left the district," Sano said as he and his men led their horses through an alley, "whether on her own or against her will."

They turned down a road that bordered a canal under construction. Laborers armed with shovels and picks were digging a wide, deep trench. Peasants hauled up dirt and loaded it onto oxcarts. Sano, Marume, and Fukida gazed into the trench, at the lumpy, freshly exposed earth on the bottom.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Marume asked.

Sano refused to consider the possibility that his cousin had been killed and buried here or someplace else. "We'll keep looking. Let's go to the shrine."

As they headed farther into Asakusa district, the drizzle turned into sprinkles, then a fierce downpour. Rain boiled up from tile roofs, cascaded off eaves, and puddled the streets. The air dissolved in mist. Sano, the detectives, and his other men took cover under a balcony while their horses stoically endured the deluge and people ran for shelter.

"There go our witnesses," Fukida said glumly.

Lightning flashed. The dark sky blazed bright white for an instant. Thunder cracked. The world outside the small dry space where Sano and his men stood was a streaming gray blur. Down the vacant street, a lone human figure emerged from the storm and stumbled in their direction.

"Somebody doesn't know enough to get out of the rain," Marume said.

The figure drew nearer, limping and crouching. Sano saw that it was a woman. Her black hair hung in long, dripping tangles. Torn and drenched, her dark red and pale lavender kimono was plastered against her slim body. With one hand she held the garment closed over her bosom; with the other she groped as if she were blind.

"What on earth-," Fukida began.

Now Sano saw that the red streaks on her kimono weren't dyed into the fabric. The rain washed them down her skirts, into the puddles through which she limped barefoot.

She was bleeding.

Sano ran toward the woman. The storm battered him; he was instantly soaked to the skin. She faltered, her eyes wide and blank with terror. Rain trickled into her open, gasping mouth. She wasn't young or old; she could be in her thirties. Her features were startlingly familiar to Sano. She recoiled from him, lost her balance. He caught her, and she screamed and flailed.

"Don't be afraid," Sano shouted over a crash of thunder. "I won't hurt you."

As she fought him, the detectives hurried to Sano's aid. The woman began to weep, crying, "No! Leave me alone. Please!"

"Stand back," Sano ordered his men. They obeyed. "Who are you?" he urgently asked the woman.

Her gaze met his. The blankness in her eyes cleared. She stopped fighting Sano. Her expression showed puzzlement, wonder, and hope. Sano was astounded by recognition. As the rain swept them, he flashed back to a memory from his early childhood.

In those days his mother had often taken him to the public bath house because they didn't have room for a tub in their small, humble home. He remembered how she'd dunked under the hot water and come up with her hair and face streaming wet. His mind superimposed this picture of his mother upon the woman in his arms. The woman was his mother's younger image.

"Is your name Chiyo?" Sano shouted.

"Yes," his cousin whispered, her voice drowned by the storm. Her eyes closed, and she went limp in Sano's grasp as she fainted.

5

Light from a round white lantern cast a lunar glow in the room where Yanagisawa and his son Yoritomo lay side by side, facedown, on low wooden tables. Their long, naked bodies were identically proportioned, Yanagisawa's almost as slender, strong, and perfect as twenty-three-year-old Yoritomo's. Their faces, turned toward each other, had the same dark beauty. Their skin glistened with oil as two masseurs kneaded their backs, working out the aches from the morning's tournament. Incense smoke rose from a brass burner, sweet and pungent, masking the odors of dampness and decay. Outside, rain poured down; thunder rumbled.

"Father, may I ask you a question?" Yoritomo said, respectful and deferential as always.

"Of course," Yanagisawa said.

He didn't hesitate to talk in front of the masseurs. Other people had blind masseurs, an ancient tradition. Yanagisawa's were deaf and dumb. They wouldn't hear or spread tales. And although he usually hated being interrogated, he made an exception for Yoritomo. He distrusted and disliked most people, with good reason; he'd been stabbed in the back so many times that it was a wonder he hadn't bled to death. But his son was his love, the only person to whom he felt a connection, his blood. He had four other children, but Yoritomo was the only one that mattered. He would gladly tell Yoritomo all his secrets. Or almost all.

"Are things really settled between you and Sano?" Yoritomo asked.

"For the moment," Yanagisawa said.

But some scores could never be settled. "I don't understand how you can be friends with him," Yoritomo said. He and Sano had once been close friends, Yanagisawa knew. During the three years that Yanagisawa had been in exile, Sano had taken the opportunity to cultivate Yoritomo, who was the shogun's favorite lover and companion. Yoritomo had grown attached to Sano and bravely defended him against his enemies. But no more. "Not after what he did to us!"

Yoritomo spoke with the indignation of trust and affection betrayed. Last year Sano had accused Yoritomo of treason, and had staged a trial and fake execution, in order to force Yanagisawa into the open. "I've never been so terrified in my life!"

Neither had Yanagisawa, when he'd heard that his son was to be put to death.

"Even though Sano apologized, I'll never forgive him," Yoritomo said, his voice hard, his sweet, gentle nature turned hateful by Sano's trick. "How can you?"

Yanagisawa couldn't. Whenever he thought of that day, he shook with fury. But he controlled his emotions, lest they goad him into rash action. And he had to convince Yoritomo to follow his example. "One can do whatever one must. Don't dwell on what Sano did to you. It'll only make you feel worse."

Yoritomo stared in amazement. "Can you honestly say that you don't hate Sano as much as I do? After all, it's not just me that Sano has humiliated." Yoritomo was so upset that he forgot his polite manners. "Look at yourself, Father! Once you were the only chamberlain, the shogun's only second-in-command. Now you have to share the honors with Sano. And he's not only stolen half your position-he has your house!"

The shogun had given the chamberlain's compound to Sano when Yanagisawa had been exiled. The very idea of Sano in his home rankled terribly with Yanagisawa, who now lived here, in a smaller estate in the castle's official quarter, among his subordinates. His new mansion was too close to the street; he could hear voices and hoofbeats outside. He felt crowded by his servants and troops. How he missed the space and privacy he'd once enjoyed! It was too bad that the traps he'd installed in his old home hadn't killed Sano.

"Why don't you punish him?" Yoritomo said, hungry for revenge. "Why do we have to act as if everything is all right? Why can't we fight back?"

"Because we would lose," Yanagisawa said bluntly.

"No, we wouldn't," Yoritomo protested. "You have lots of allies, lots of troops."

"So does Sano."

"Your position is stronger than his."

"That's what I thought when I went up against Lord Matsudaira. I was wrong. His troops slaughtered mine on the battlefield." Yanagisawa's thoughts darkened with the memory. "My allies defected to him like rats fleeing a sinking ship. No," he declared. "I won't risk another war."

"But-"

"But nothing," Yanagisawa said, harsh in his determination to convince his son. "We were let off easy last time. You were allowed to stay in Edo." The shogun had insisted on keeping Yoritomo with him, even though Lord Matsudaira had wanted to exile Yanagisawa's whole family. "I was banished instead of killed. Next time we won't be so fortunate."

Yoritomo beheld Yanagisawa with a mixture of resignation and disappointment. "You're saying you've given up. Because you're afraid of losing, afraid of dying."

The masseur pressed his fingers deep into Yanagisawa's shoulder joints, touching tender spots. Yanagisawa winced. His son had always idolized him, but now Yoritomo had accused him of being a coward. The accusation was unjust.

"Sometimes fear is a better guide than courage is," he said. "Courage has led many a man to do the wrong things, with disastrous results. I learned that lesson when I took on Lord Matsudaira: We can't seize power by force. You should have learned it, too. But you're young." He watched Yoritomo blush, shamed by the implied accusation of stupidity. "You don't understand that when a strategy fails, you shouldn't rush out and do the same thing again. If you want different results, you have to try a new strategy."

Hope brightened Yoritomo's gaze. "Do you mean you have a new plan for defeating Sano and putting us on top of the regime?"

"Oh, yes." Yanagisawa smiled with pleasure as his masseur worked the stiffness out of his back muscles. "Never let it be said that I don't have a plan."

"But how can you win without going to war?"

"The time for war was over more than a century ago, when the Tokugawa clan and its allies conquered their rivals and unified Japan," Yanagisawa said, wise in hindsight. "This dictatorship won't be won by military maneuvers, I see now. Today's political climate calls for more subtle tactics."

"What are they? What are you going to do?" Apprehension shadowed Yoritomo's beautiful face. "Is there a part in your plan for me?"

Yanagisawa was touched by his son's wish to be included in whatever he did, no matter the dangers. Yoritomo was so good, so loyal. "Never fear," Yanagisawa said. "You're key to my whole scheme." Yoritomo was Yanagisawa's best hope of one day ruling Japan. Yanagisawa had big plans for him. "Now listen."

6

Sano and his retinue escorted his cousin Chiyo home.

She rode, semiconscious, in a palanquin carried by bearers that Sano had hired. The storm decreased to a light rain and the afternoon faded into dusk as he and his men accompanied the palanquin through the samurai enclave near the shogun's rice ware houses along the river. The rice was used to pay the Tokugawa retainers their stipends. Heavily guarded by Major Kumazawa's troops, it was sold to rice brokers, and converted to cash, by a bevy of officials.

Lanterns flickered outside the walled estates where Major Kumazawa and the officials lived. Sentries in guard houses looked up to watch Sano's procession pass. This part of town was older than the rest of Edo; the white plaster on the walls was patched, the roof tiles weathered, the roads narrow and serpentine. Sano didn't think he'd been here before, but the double-roofed gate that displayed a banner emblazoned with the Kumazawa family crest-a stylized bear head in a circle-struck in him an eerie chord of recognition.

He and his men dismounted, and Sano ordered the sentries, "Tell Major Kumazawa I've brought his daughter home."

The sentries rushed to open the gate. Sano found himself in a courtyard lit by fires in stone lanterns outside the mansion, a low, half-timbered building raised on a stone foundation. Rain trickled off the overhanging eaves. Major Kumazawa rushed out the door, trailed by a gray-haired woman. They halted on the veranda. Deja vu assailed Sano. Images surfaced from the depths of his mind.

He had a vision of this same courtyard, of Major Kumazawa and this woman who must be his wife. But they were younger, their hair black, their faces unlined. Sano heard a woman pleading and weeping, somewhere out of sight. Dizziness and chills washed through him. For a moment he couldn't breathe.

His vision was a memory. He had come here before. But when? And why?

The images, sounds, and sensations vanished as Major Kumazawa and his wife hurried to the palanquin. Major Kumazawa opened the door. Inside, Chiyo lay motionless, covered by a quilt that Sano had bought in a shop. Her eyes were closed, her head wrapped in a white cotton cloth stained with blood.

Major Kumazawa's wife cried out in dismay. The major demanded, "What happened to her?"

He didn't thank Sano for bringing Chiyo home. Detectives Marume and Fukida frowned at this affront to their master, but Sano recalled how he'd felt when re united with his own kidnapped child. Courtesy had been the last thing on his mind.

"There's a cut on her head," Sano said. That, as he'd discovered, was the source of the blood on her clothes. "She hasn't any other injuries, as far as I could see. But you should send for a doctor."

Major Kumazawa barked orders to the servants who appeared on the veranda, then asked Sano, "Where did you find her?"

"On a street in Asakusa district," Sano said.

"I'll bring her in the house." As Major Kumazawa lifted his daughter, she awakened. She began to struggle.

"No!" she cried. "Don't touch me! Go away!"

"It's all right, little one," Major Kumazawa said, his voice as gentle as if he were talking to a child. "It's Papa. You're home safe now."

Her struggles ceased; she quieted. "Papa," she whispered.

As he carried her toward the house, his wife bustled along with them, stroking Chiyo's pale, muddy cheek, murmuring endearments. Major Kumazawa looked over his shoulder at Sano.

"I'm indebted to you," he said gruffly. "If you and your men would like to come in, please do."

"Right this way, Honorable Chamberlain," said a servant.

Sano could tell that his uncle didn't want him here, but he was curious to see the house. Perhaps it would trigger more memories. Furthermore, Sano had a stubborn streak.

"Come on," he told his detectives, and followed the servant inside the mansion.

They left their shoes and swords in the entryway. They were led down a corridor with polished cedar floors, past rooms concealed behind lattice and paper partitions. They arrived in a reception room with a dais backed by a landscape mural and an alcove that held a vase of chrysanthemums. The house seemed familiar to Sano, but only because it had the same architecture and decor as other samurai homes including his own. His own was much bigger than this, but he looked at his uncle's home through the eyes of the child he'd once been.

His family had lived in a tiny house behind the martial arts school that his father had operated. Compared to that, Major Kumazawa's estate was a palace. Sano thought of how his mother must have felt, banished to what had surely seemed like squalor to her. He recalled days when food had been scarce, winters when their house had been freezing because they couldn't afford enough coal. He knew his mother had suffered more than he had.

Major Kumazawa must have known about her poverty. He could have helped but hadn't.

Sano thought of the memory he'd experienced outside. He tried to dredge it up into the light where he could examine it, but it slipped away, elusive as a ghost.

After a long interval, Major Kumazawa entered the room. "Chiyo is being cared for by her mother and her maids." He gestured to Sano and the detectives and said, "Please sit."

Sano knelt in the position of honor by the alcove, the detectives near him. Major Kumazawa seated himself on the dais. He didn't offer refreshments, not that Sano would have accepted. Major Kumazawa was clearly ill at ease: He didn't like entertaining a stranger who was his blood kin and an outcast. Sano himself didn't exactly feel at home.

"I looked all over Asakusa district and didn't find Chiyo," Major Kumazawa said. "How did you find her?"

"I spotted her wandering in the rainstorm," Sano said.

"What a stroke of good luck." Then Major Kumazawa seemed to realize how ungracious he sounded. "But you brought my daughter back to me. I apologize for my bad manners." For once he seemed honestly contrite about how he'd behaved toward Sano. "A thousand thanks."

Sano bowed, accepting the thanks and the apology. He began to realize that Major Kumazawa's treatment of him wasn't entirely personal. Old samurai often became curmudgeons. If that was true of his uncle, Sano could live with it.

"How did Chiyo get there?" Major Kumazawa asked.

"It would seem that someone kidnapped her, then dumped her in the street," Sano said.

"Who?" Major Kumazawa clenched his fists; his expression tightened with anger.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Sano said. "While I was tending to your daughter, I sent my men to look around the area. It was deserted because of the rain. They didn't see anyone."

Major Kumazawa brooded darkly. "Two days Chiyo was gone. Where was she? And what happened to her during all that time?"

The sound of a sob interrupted the conversation. Sano, the detectives, and Major Kumazawa looked up and saw Chiyo's mother standing in the doorway. Tears streaked her contorted face. Major Kumazawa rose and went to her. She whispered in his ear, then fled. He returned to his guests, clearly shaken.

"My daughter," he began, then swallowed and drew a deep breath. "When my wife undressed and bathed Chiyo, she saw… injuries. And blood." He finished in a low, broken voice, "My daughter has been violated."

Her torn clothes had suggested the possibility of rape to Sano, but he was dismayed to have his suspicions confirmed. Major Kumazawa sank to his knees, stricken with horror and anguish. Rape was a terrible thing to happen to a woman, perhaps worse than death. Rape contaminated her body and spirit, destroyed her chastity and her honor. Sano and the detectives bowed their heads in sympathy.

Indignation transformed Major Kumazawa's face into a hideous mask so flushed with red that Sano thought the man would burst a vein. "This thing that has been done to my daughter is a disgrace! But it's not against the law!"

Tokugawa law didn't recognize rape as a crime. Men could take their sexual satisfaction where they chose, against a woman's will, and not be punished. But Chiyo's case was different.

"Your daughter was the victim of a kidnapping," Sano said, "and she was injured. The violation constitutes an assault. Kidnapping and assault are both illegal. The law won't let whoever hurt Chiyo get away with it."

This rapist had earned a stay in prison and torture by the jailers. He could also be sentenced to live as an outcast for a term set by the magistrate. And since he'd chosen a victim with political connections, he might even get the death penalty.

Major Kumazawa grimaced. "Tell that to the police. They wouldn't do anything to find Chiyo. They won't catch her attacker. No," he said, pounding his fists on the floor. "If I want him punished, I'll have to do it myself. But first I'll have to find him." He fixed his bitter gaze on Sano. "I must trouble you for another favor. Will you help me catch the bastard?"

Sano realized that he and his uncle had found common ground: They both wanted justice for Chiyo. Sano saw the attack on Chiyo as a personal offense to himself as well as her immediate family. He felt a new, unexpected kinship with his estranged relatives.

"Of course," he said. "I'll start at once. The first thing I need to do is speak with Chiyo."

"Why?"

"To ask her what happened."

Resistance flared in Major Kumazawa's eyes. "She was kidnapped and violated. What more do we need to know? I don't want her forced to relive it. She's been through enough."

Sano saw that working with his uncle would be no easy partnership. "Chiyo will relive what happened to her whether she talks about it or not." Sano knew that although Reiko seldom spoke of the episodes of violence in her life, she still had nightmares about them. "And right now Chiyo is our only source of information about her attacker."

"I don't want you to upset her," Major Kumazawa said, obstinate. "We should go out and shake up everyone in the district until somebody talks."

They might have to resort to that eventually, but Sano couldn't ignore their best lead, the victim who'd witnessed the crime. And he was getting fed up with his uncle's interference. "Understand that I don't need your permission to question Chiyo." Sano rose; so did his detectives. "You can be present while I do it, but I will question her, make no mistake."

Detectives Marume and Fukida looked gratified because Sano had put his foot down. Major Kumazawa stared in offense because Sano had pulled rank on him. How he must resent that Sano the outcast had risen so high in society!

He obviously realized that he'd been given an order he must obey, but he said, "Can't you at least wait until tomorrow?"

"No." Sano was loath to cause further pain to Chiyo, but the passage of time could erase important clues from her mind. He added, "I'll be careful with her. I give you my word."

Major Kumazawa rose reluctantly. "Very well."

In the women's quarters, Sano and Major Kumazawa entered a room where Chiyo lay in bed, her mother and the physician kneeling on either side. She looked small and delicate under a thick quilt. Her eyes were closed. The right side of her head had been shaved around an ugly red cut, crossed by stitches. Major Kumazawa stared at it, appalled.

The physician was a middle-aged man who wore the dark blue coat of his profession. "The cut wasn't deep." He covered it with salve and a cotton pad, then wound a bandage around Chiyo's head. "It should heal perfectly."

"What about the inside of her head?" Major Kumazawa said.

"It's too soon to tell."

"Is she unconscious?"

"No, just drowsy. I've given her a potion to ease the pain and let her sleep." The physician picked up a tray that held his instruments, jars of medicine, Chiyo's hair clippings, and a bloodstained cloth. "I'll come back to check on her in the morning." He bowed and departed.

Major Kumazawa knelt at the foot of the bed, obviously disturbed by his daughter's condition. His wife glanced up at Sano. She seemed too shy as well as too upset to speak. Chiyo's eyes fluttered open. She looked around, her pupils dilated wide and black by the drug. Her gaze fixed on Sano. Her lips formed broken, halting speech: "… thanks… rescuing me… grateful…"

Sano was moved by her effort. Even in her condition she had better manners than her father did. Sano knelt near her and noticed again her resemblance to his mother. She had the same sweet, pretty features set in a rectangular face. He thought of a time when he'd interrogated his mother about a crime, when she'd lain drugged and sleepy just like this. But Chiyo was the victim, not the accused.

"Chamberlain Sano is going to catch the person who did this to you," Major Kumazawa told her. "But first he needs to ask you a few questions." Only a few, his gaze warned Sano.

Chiyo nodded weakly. Sano began in a quiet voice, "Do you remember wandering in the Asakusa district before I found you? Can you tell me how you got there?"

Vagueness clouded her eyes. "I woke up lying in an alley. My head hurt. It was raining. When I stood up, I was so dizzy I could hardly walk. I didn't know where I was. But I kept going. When I was a child, Papa told me that if I were ever lost, I should walk until I saw something I recognized, I shouldn't just cry and wait for help."

Sano admired her bravery. He also approved of how Major Kumazawa had taught his daughter to be self-reliant. "Did you see anyone around when you woke up?"

Her forehead wrinkled. "No. I don't think there was anyone."

For now Sano avoided the subject of what the kidnapper had done to Chiyo. Maybe he could get enough information about the man without discussing the rape itself. He said, "Do you remember going to the Awashima Shrine with your baby?"

"My baby…" Alarm agitated Chiyo. "Where is my baby?" She tried to sit up, gasping and frantic.

Her mother gently restrained her, whispering, "It's all right, dearest. He's safe at home."

"I want to go home," Chiyo cried. "I want to see my children. They need me. I want my husband."

"I've sent for him," Major Kumazawa said. "He'll take you home as soon as you're well enough to go." He asked Sano, "Are you almost finished?"

"Almost." Sano asked Chiyo, "What happened at the shrine?"

She made an obvious, labored effort to calm herself. Her gaze wandered, as if into the past. "My baby started crying. He wasn't used to so many people, so much noise. I thought that if I took him someplace quiet, he would settle. So I left my attendants and carried him into a garden. That's the last thing I remember until… until…"

Chiyo's eyes and mouth opened wide in horror, at something that only she could see. She screamed, "No! Stop! Please!" and thrashed under the quilt. "Help! Help!"

She was remembering the rape, Sano realized. Her mother tried to soothe her, but she burst into a torrent of weeping. Major Kumazawa said to Sano, "That's enough." His paternal protectiveness outweighed his duty to obey Sano and their mutual wish to catch Chiyo's rapist. "Please go."

7

High on a hill above the city, Edo Castle's massive conglomeration of stone walls, gabled roofs, and watchtowers shimmered, hazy and insubstantial, in the rain and fog. As dusk deepened into evening, lights from its many lanterns wavered as if submerged in the sea.

Inside the castle, Sano's estate occupied an enclosed compound. The mansion's many wings angled around courtyards and gardens. Within the private chambers at the center of the estate, Reiko began the nightly ordeal of putting her daughter to bed.

"Time to go to sleep," Reiko said, patting the futon laid out on the floor.

"No!" Akiko said.

Reiko sighed. Akiko was a moody child, all sweetness one moment and all temper the next. Reiko wondered whether bad experiences she'd had while pregnant had affected her daughter's personality. Or maybe Akiko had never forgiven Reiko for leaving her behind when she and Sano had gone to rescue Masahiro after he'd been kidnapped. Sometimes they got along fine, but often they clashed wills like enemy warlords.

"Come on, Akiko, it's late, and you're tired," Reiko said.

"No tired," Akiko protested.

Her face bunched into a frown that portended one of her horrific tantrums. She didn't have them for anybody except Reiko, who, determined to learn to handle her child, resisted the temptation to call the nurse to deal with Akiko.

"No more arguments," she said gently but firmly. "You're going to bed now."

Akiko sobbed, screamed, and beat her head and heels on the floor as if possessed by a demon. Reiko soothed, scolded, and pleaded. By the time Akiko had worn herself out and fallen asleep, Reiko felt as beaten up as if she'd lost a battle.

She stepped out the door and saw Sano coming. He smiled, but an air of tension around him caused her heart to race. "What's happened?"

"No new political upheavals," Sano reassured her. "I met my uncle, Major Kumazawa, today."

"Ah," Reiko said, thinking that it was about time.

She accompanied Sano into their chamber, where he removed his rain-damp clothes. Reiko opened the cabinet, took out a robe, and helped him into it. "Why did you finally decide to make contact with your uncle?"

"I didn't. He came to me, to request my help." Sano explained that the man's daughter had gone missing and he'd spent the day searching for her in Asakusa.

Reiko felt a stir of excitement. Here, perhaps, was a new investigation for her to join. "Did you find any clues?" she said as she heated sake on a charcoal brazier.

"Better than that," Sano said, kneeling opposite Reiko. "I found Chiyo herself. She's alive."

Reiko was amazed at his quick results. "That's wonderful!" But even though she was glad for Chiyo's sake, she couldn't help feeling disappointed. The investigation was over already.

"I took her to my uncle's house," Sano said.

"The place where your mother grew up? What was it like?"

"About what you would expect. Typical for his rank."

Men weren't good at describing places in the detail that women wanted, Reiko thought. She sensed that the visit to his ancestral estate had caused Sano feelings he would rather not discuss. "Your uncle must have been very pleased and grateful."

"Pleased, I would have liked. Grateful, not exactly." Sano sounded nettled beneath his humor. "He's a stern, hard man-a real old-style samurai."

"Well, a plague on him," Reiko said, offended on Sano's behalf. "You brought his daughter home safe and sound."

"Not exactly sound." Sano described Chiyo's dazed, weak condition and the injury on her head. "And it appears that she was violated."

"How awful," Reiko murmured, recalling the time she'd been kidnapped by a madman who'd nearly ravished her. And she knew that the consequences of a rape could be even worse than the pain and terror.

Masahiro padded barefoot into the room and asked, "What does that mean, 'violated'?"

Reiko and Sano exchanged perturbed glances. They tried not to talk about adult matters when their son could hear, but Masahiro had sharp ears. He could sense when something had happened, and often showed up at the scene before his parents knew he was there. Reiko gestured at Sano. You're his father; you explain.

Sano told Masahiro, "It means she was hurt."

"Hurt how?"

Sano looked as flustered as Reiko felt. Masahiro was familiar with the facts of life; he'd seen animals mating, their offspring born. But he was too young and innocent to know about rape.

"Never mind." Sano put on a stern expression that closed the subject.

"Who did this to Chiyo?" Reiko asked. "Has she said?"

"She doesn't remember much." Sano puffed out his breath with frustrated concern. "And she became so upset that Major Kumazawa put a halt to my questions."

"Is Major Kumazawa my uncle, too?" Masahiro asked.

"He's your great-uncle," Sano said. "Can I meet him?"

Reiko herself was eager to meet Sano's family. She wanted to know what her husband came from, to see his traits reflected in the faces of strangers. But she said, "Someday." A family that had suffered such an ordeal would be in no shape to contend with new relations. She asked Sano, "What are you going to do about Chiyo?"

"Major Kumazawa has asked me to find and punish the kidnapper."

"And you agreed?"

"Of course," Sano said.

Reiko heard misgivings in his voice, but they didn't put off her desire to collaborate in the investigation. "Can I help?"

Sano smiled with appreciation. "As a matter of fact, you can. Major Kumazawa doesn't want me to talk to Chiyo again. I could force him to cooperate, but after what Chiyo has been through, she probably wouldn't want to discuss it with a man. She might be more comfortable with a woman. So I asked Major Kumazawa if he would permit her to be questioned by my wife. He agreed, although reluctantly. Will you do it?"

"I'd be glad to," Reiko said. Not only did she welcome a chance to help catch a criminal and obtain justice for Chiyo; perhaps she could smooth Sano's relations with his newfound family.

"Chiyo insisted on going home to her husband and children," Sano said. "Her husband is a Captain Okubo; he's a retainer to Lord Horio, daimyo of Idzuma Province. They live inside the daimyo's estate. You can talk to her there."

"I'll go first thing tomorrow," Reiko said.

"I'll be needing more help," Sano said. "I've sent for Hirata." Footsteps approached down the corridor, their gait slightly heavier on one leg. "Here he is now."

Into the room strode Hirata, the shogun's ssakan-sama-Most Honorable Investigator of Events, Situations, and People. He'd inherited the post from Sano seven years ago, when Sano became chamberlain. He was also Sano's chief retainer and close friend, although their respective duties kept them much apart.

"Greetings," Hirata said, bowing.

He wasn't tall, and he wore modest garb, a gray and black kimono, surcoat, and trousers. His face was broad and ordinary; he didn't stand out in a crowd. But appearances were deceiving, Reiko knew. Seven years ago, Hirata had been seriously injured in the line of duty. A lesser man would be dead or an invalid, but Hirata had apprenticed himself to a mystic martial arts master. Rigorous training had whittled every spare bit of fat from his body, which was now all muscle, sinew, and bone as strong as steel. Secret rituals had conditioned his mind, had replaced his youthful, naive mien with an expression of preternaturally mature wisdom. And he'd gained a reputation as the best martial artist in Edo.

Masahiro yelled, "Hah, yah!" and launched a flying kick at Hirata. Hirata took the kick in his stomach, howled in comic pain, and fell backward with a floor-shaking thud. Masahiro threw himself on Hirata. As they wrestled and Masahiro laughed, Reiko protested, "Masahiro, that's no way to greet a guest!"

Hirata let Masahiro pin him facedown. Masahiro sat on Hirata's back, crowing, "I win!"

"I surrender," Hirata said. "Let me up." Masahiro climbed off Hirata, who asked Sano, "How can I be of service?"

Sano told him about the kidnapping and assault while Reiko poured cups of sake for the men. "Right now I've no idea who might be responsible. After I spoke with Chiyo, I questioned her attendants, but they didn't see anything. I need you to help me beat the bushes for leads."

"I'll do my best." Hirata didn't mention any other work he might have pending. He had a detective corps to cover for him, and his first duty was to Sano, his sworn master. "I have some contacts who might be useful."

Masahiro had been listening with a pensive frown on his face. He blurted, "I want to help, too."

The adults regarded him with surprise. Sano said, "What? How?"

"I can look for clues," Masahiro said eagerly. "I can interrogate witnesses and suspects." He stammered the difficult words. "I'll catch the bad man."

Hirata chuckled. "Here's a pine cone that didn't fall far from the tree."

"Our son spends too much time playing detective," Reiko said with a laugh.

Masahiro bristled. "I'm not playing! I'm practicing!"

"Yes, and that's good," Sano said, "but this is a real investigation, not a game. We can't have you chasing a bad man who won't want to be caught. It could be dangerous."

"If anybody attacks me, I can defend myself," Masahiro insisted.

He'd proved he could, Reiko knew, but she said, "A real investigation is too complicated. It's for grown-ups, not children."

"You're too young," Sano said.

"I'm not. I'm almost ten!" Masahiro said.

"Your manners are worse than if you were half that age," Reiko rebuked him, but gently because she understood what it was like to want to be a detective and not be permitted. Once Sano had refused to let her participate in his investigations on the grounds that women weren't capable or allowed by tradition. Only by taking matters into her own hands, and proving her worth, had she prevailed. "Don't contradict your parents."

Masahiro bowed his head. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me." He was a good, considerate boy who only forgot courtesy when carried away by youthful impetuousness. "How long do I have to wait before I can be a detective?"

Reiko could feel Sano thinking that he didn't want their son following in his footsteps, investigating murders for the shogun, facing the constant threat of death. Neither did she. Sano said, "Until you're fifteen."

That was the official age of manhood for samurai, when they could marry, earn their keep, fight in wars, and take on other adult responsibilities. Time went so fast, Reiko thought with a pang of sadness; before they knew it, Masahiro would be a man.

"That's forever!" Masahiro protested. Although strong, mature, and self-controlled for his age, he looked on the verge of tears. "Isn't there something I can do?"

"No," Sano and Reiko said together. They both wished to protect Masahiro from the world. He'd already seen too much. Even though this case was within the family, without the danger of working for the shogun, it had its own particular horrors to which a child shouldn't be exposed.

"But-"

"Don't argue," Sano said sternly, although Reiko knew he hated to disappoint their son. "Our decision is final."

8

The rising sun shone pale and diluted through storm clouds as Sano left his compound with Detectives Marume and Fukida and his entourage. As they rode along the passage, water dripped from the eaves of the covered corridors atop the stone walls, onto their wicker hats and straw rain capes. Their horses' hooves splashed in puddles on the paving stones. High above them, far beyond Edo Castle, rain obliterated the green eastern hills outside the city. The pealing of temple bells echoed, then quickly faded, as if drowned by the humid summer air.

Sano and his men came upon another procession of mounted samurai, led by Yanagisawa. "Good day, Sano-san," Yanagisawa said. He and Sano exchanged polite bows. "I was sorry to hear about what happened to Major Kumazawa's daughter Chiyo."

He sounded genuinely concerned and sympathetic, but Sano's guard went up at once. "News travels fast," Sano said. He took for granted that Yanagisawa kept abreast of his business; he did the same for Yanagisawa. But Sano was alarmed by how efficient Yanagisawa's informants were.

"News travels especially fast when it concerns the uncle and cousin of a man as important as yourself," Yanagisawa said.

He was also aware of the relationship between Sano and the Kumazawa clan, Sano observed. "What other facts do you have stored up in case they should come in handy?" Sano said in a light, jocular tone.

Yanagisawa responded with a pleasant smile. "Not half as many as you do, I'm sure. I assume you're on your way to hunt down the person who perpetrated this crime against your clan?"

"You assume correctly." Sano wondered if Yanagisawa had planted a spy inside the Kumazawa estate because he'd figured Sano would eventually show up there.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck," Yanagisawa said. "And I'll be glad to help, if you like."

Memories flickered through Sano's mind. He saw himself and Yanagisawa rolling in the dirt together, locked in mortal, savage combat. He heard Yanagisawa howling for his blood. Yanagisawa's current behavior was truly perplexing.

"I'll keep your offer in mind," Sano said. "Many thanks."

They bowed, said their farewells, and rode in opposite directions. Fukida glanced over his shoulder and said, "He wants to help? How about that?"

"Maybe a rat can change its whiskers," Marume said, "but he's got a trick up his sleeve, mark my word."

"Obviously," Sano said.

"What are you going to do?" Fukida asked.

"I'm going to stop relying on spies who can tell me what Yanagisawa ate for breakfast but can't find out what's in his mind," Sano said. "It's time to bring in an expert."

Escorted by a squadron of guards, Reiko rode in her palanquin through the district south of Edo Castle, where the daimyo and their hordes of retainers lived. Her bearers carried her down wide boulevards thronged with mounted samurai, past the barracks that enclosed each huge, fortified estate. Rain began to patter on the roof of Reiko's palanquin as her procession stopped at the gate house of the estate that belonged to the lord of Idzuma Province. Lieutenant Tanuma said to the guards, "The wife of the honorable Chamberlain Sano is here to see the wife of Captain Okubo."

The guard opened the gate and called someone to announce Reiko's arrival. Reiko had read the Kumazawa clan dossier and knew that Chiyo was a lady-in-waiting to the daimyo's womenfolk. She hoped Chiyo was receiving good care here.

After a brief interval, a manservant put his head out the gate, spoke with the guard, and shook his head. The guard told Lieutenant Tanuma, "Sorry, Captain Okubo's wife doesn't live here anymore. She's staying at her father's house in Asakusa."

Sano and his entourage rode across Nihonbashi, the bridge that had the same name as the river it spanned as well as Edo's merchant quarter. The bridge was jammed with traffic. Porters carried trunks for samurai traveling in palanquins; peasant women armed with market baskets jostled begging priests and children; foot soldiers patrolled. Below them, barges floated on the murky brown water. Wharves stacked with lumber, bamboo poles, vegetables, and coal occupied shores lined with ware houses. Drizzle hung so thickly in the air that it muted the sounds of seagulls shrieking, oars splashing, and voices raised in laughter and argument. The wet atmosphere intensified the stench from the fish market at the north end of the bridge. Sano scanned the crowds, looking for Toda Ikkyu, the master spy.

Earlier, he'd stopped in the chambers within Edo Castle that housed the metsuke, the Tokugawa intelligence service. A secretary had informed him that Toda was working at the bridge. He knew from experience that Toda was hard to pick out of a crowd. Toda was so ordinary in appearance, so utterly lacking in distinctive features, that Sano could never remember what he looked like even though they'd known each other for more than a decade. Neither could most other people. That was an advantage in Toda's line of work.

As Sano eyed the faces of samurai who passed him, he thought of what he'd learned from Toda's dossier some months ago. Toda had begun his life as a sutego-an abandoned child, one among legions that roamed the cities. No one knew who his parents were. Toda had fended for himself by stealing. One night, when he was twelve, he sneaked into the estate of a rich daimyo. There he lived for three months, filching food from the kitchen, sleeping under the raised buildings. The daimyo's men noticed things missing and found traces of Toda, but they couldn't catch him until the dogs cornered him. They brought him before the daimyo.

"I can use a boy with your talents," the daimyo had reportedly said. "From now on you're in my service."

He put Toda to work spying on his retainers, reporting any hint or act of disloyalty. This went on for ten years, during which Toda was granted the rank of samurai. Then the daimyo ran into financial trouble; he couldn't pay the cash tribute required by the shogun, Tokugawa Ietsuna. He presented Toda to the shogun and said, "A good spy is worth more than any amount of money, and this young fellow is the best."

So the legend went. Toda had risen within the ranks of the metsuke until he became the chief spy. To him and his subordinates belonged much of the credit for keeping the Tokugawa regime in power.

Now Sano heard a voice call, "Greetings, Honorable Chamberlain Sano. Are you looking for me, by any chance?" He saw a samurai who appeared to be Toda, leaning against the bridge's railing. Toda was ageless, his body neither tall nor short, fat nor thin, his face composed of features seen on a million others. He wore the ubiquitous wicker hat and straw rain cape, and an expression of world-weary amusement that was vaguely familiar.

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Sano jumped off his horse and joined Toda; his men halted; traffic streamed around them. "I'm not interrupting any secret operation, am I?"

"Not at all," Toda said. "I haven't done much of that since Lord Matsudaira's death. Things have been quiet lately. I'm just conducting school."

"What kind of school?" Sano asked.

"For the next generation of metsuke agents. Political strife will flare up again eventually, and we'll need new spies who know the craft."

Sano looked around. "So where are your students?"

"They'll show up soon. What can I do for you?"

"I want you to put Chamberlain Yanagisawa under surveillance," Sano said.

Interest enlivened Toda's expression. "Why? Have you reason to believe he's plotting against you?"

"Only that he's been too nice for too long."

"Indeed he has. As I said, things are quiet." Toda added, "I must tell you that Yanagisawa already has us spying on you."

"That doesn't surprise me," Sano said. Yanagisawa was far more careful of potential rivals than Sano had ever been.

"And since I've told you about his spying, I also have to tell him about yours, just to be fair."

"That doesn't surprise me, either." Sano knew that the metsuke had to serve all the top officials in the regime, keep them happy, and offend none. That was how Toda and his kind rode the shifting tides of political power. "Do what you must."

"Wouldn't you rather use your own men?" Toda said, hinting that they were more trustworthy than himself.

"They're on the job, too."

"But they've come up empty, and that's why you're calling on us," Toda said, wisely superior.

"I might as well deploy all the ammunition at hand." Although Sano couldn't entirely trust Toda, he'd run out of other options. "Begin your surveillance today. Handle it personally."

"I assure you that my agents are trained and competent."

"But you're the best."

Humor crinkled Toda's eyes. "Flattery is nice, but what I would really like-"

His gaze suddenly moved past Sano and sharpened. He called, "Kimura-san! Ono-san! Hitomi-san!"

Three people walking across the bridge stopped abruptly. One was a stout woman with a shawl that covered her hair and a basket over her arm. One was a water-seller carrying wooden buckets that hung from a pole across his shoulders. The other was a filthy beggar dressed in rags.

Toda beckoned, and the three lined up before him. "How did you know it was us?" said the woman. She pulled down her shawl, revealing a shaved crown and hair tied in a samurai topknot.

"That's not a bad costume, Kimura-san, but you walk like a sumo wrestler," Toda said. "Nobody on the lookout for a spy would mistake you for a woman." He turned to his other students. "Hitomi-san, your buckets are too light; I could tell they're empty. Don't be so lazy when you're on a real job. It'll get you killed. And you, Ono-san," he said to the beggar. "I saw a merchant throw a coin on the ground, and you didn't pick it up. A samurai like you wouldn't because it's beneath you, but a real beggar would have."

The students hung their heads. Toda said, "You all fail this lesson. Go back to the castle."

They slunk off. Sano said, "Ah, a class on secret surveillance."

"Weren't you a little harsh on your boys?" Marume called from astride his horse. "I didn't see through their disguises."

"You weren't paying attention," Toda said. "But you should be. You might miss someone who's stalking your master."

Marume looked chastened. A chill passed through Sano. Did Yanagisawa plan to assassinate him? Was he acting friendly because he knew Sano wouldn't be around much longer?

"What I would really like," Toda said, resuming their conversation, "is for you to ensure that if there's a political upheaval and you come out on top, I'll survive and prosper."

That was a fair deal as far as Sano was concerned. "Find out what Yanagisawa is up to, and I will."

9

The rain turned into a downpour while Reiko and her escorts traveled to Asakusa. By the time they reached Major Kumazawa's estate, the roof of her palanquin was leaking and her cloak was damp. She alighted in the courtyard, under a roof that was supported on pillars and covered a path leading up the steps of the mansion. She'd been curious to see Sano's clan's ancestral home, but the streaming rain obscured the buildings.

An old woman met her on the veranda, bowed, and said, "Welcome, Honorable Lady Reiko. We've been expecting you." She was in her sixties, gray-haired, modestly dressed. Her plain, somber face was shadowed under the eyes, as if from a sleepless night. "My name is Yasuko. I am Chiyo's mother." She ushered Reiko into the mansion's entryway, where Reiko removed her shoes and cloak. "I'm sorry you had to make such a long journey in this weather." She seemed genuinely regretful. "It would have been easier for you to see Chiyo at her home in town, but she is unable to return there. Her husband has cast her off."

Reiko was shocked, although she realized she shouldn't be. Society viewed a woman who'd been violated as disgraced and contaminated. Rape was considered akin to adultery, even though the victim wasn't to blame.

"When he came last night to fetch Chiyo, he found out what had happened to her," Yasuko explained. "He no longer wants her as his wife. He means to get a divorce."

"How terrible," Reiko said as the woman escorted her through the mansion's dim, dank corridors.

Her husband could divorce Chiyo by simply picking up a brush and inking three and a half straight lines on a piece of paper. And that was a mild punishment. He could have sent her to work in a brothel if he so chose.

"What is worse, her husband has kept their children, and he won't even let her see them," Yasuko said. "She is very upset."

She slid open a door, called inside, "Lady Reiko is here," and stood aside for Reiko to enter.

Chiyo was sitting up in bed, propped by pillows. A quilt covered her from bosom to toes, even though the room was warm and stuffy. Her lank hair spilled from the bandage that swathed her head. Her features were so swollen from crying that Reiko couldn't tell what she looked like under normal circumstances. Chiyo's mouth quivered and her chest heaved with sobs.

Reiko knew that state of profound grief that possesses mind and body like an uncontrollable force. She'd experienced it once in Miyako, when she'd thought Sano had been killed, and again when she'd gone north to rescue Masahiro and found evidence that he was dead. Now Reiko faced a woman who'd lost her husband and children even though they were still alive. She forgot that she'd once been ready to dislike Sano's relatives because they cared more for social customs than for their blood kin. Her heart went out to Chiyo.

She knelt beside Chiyo, bowed, and said, "I am so sorry about what happened." She felt inadequate, unable to think of anything else to say but, "Please accept my sympathy."

"Many thanks." Chiyo's voice broke on a sob. "You're very kind."

Her mother offered Reiko refreshments. Reiko politely refused, was pressed, then accepted. The social routine gave Chiyo time to compose herself. Yasuko went off to see about the food. Reiko sensed that she didn't want to listen while Reiko questioned Chiyo and hear disturbing answers.

"Honorable Lady Reiko, I appreciate your coming to talk to me," Chiyo said humbly.

"There's no need to call me by my title," Reiko said. "My name will do."

"Very well, Reiko-san. A thousand apologies for causing you so much trouble."

Reiko liked Chiyo for caring about other people's feelings even after her terrible ordeal. "I'm sorry we had to meet under such circumstances."

Chiyo's face crumpled.

Reiko had to force herself to say, "My husband wants me to ask you about what happened. Can you bear it?"

Chiyo nodded meekly. A tremulous sigh issued from her. "But what good will it do?"

"It will help my husband catch the man who hurt you."

Tears trickled down Chiyo's drenched face. Her eyes were so red that she looked as if she were weeping blood. "Suppose he does. Nothing will change. My husband won't take me back. Last night he told me I was dead to him, dead to our children. Once he loved me, but he doesn't anymore. He looked so stern, so hateful." She wailed, "I'll never see my babies again!"

Reiko could hardly bear to imagine her own children ripped away from her. Alarmed at Chiyo's suffering, she urged, "Wait a while. Your husband may feel differently."

"No, he won't," Chiyo insisted. Reiko's sympathy and family connection made Chiyo speak more frankly than she might have with another stranger. "He's a good man, but once he makes up his mind, he never changes it."

How Reiko deplored male obstinacy and pride!

"He thinks I've dishonored our family." Chiyo sobbed. "I think maybe he's right."

"Why?"

"Because I brought it on myself."

"No, you didn't," Reiko said firmly. "My husband told me what you said happened at the shrine. You left your group because your baby was upset. You got kidnapped. That wasn't your fault."

"That isn't all that happened. I remember more than I told your husband. It's coming back to me in bits and pieces."

Controlling her eagerness for information, Reiko spoke gently: "What else do you remember?"

"I took my baby into the garden, and I nursed him." Chiyo's arms crept out from under the quilt and cradled around the infant who should have been there but wasn't. "I heard someone moaning behind a grove of bamboo. He called for help. I went to see what was wrong."

Women were taught from an early age to put themselves at the service of others, and Chiyo had an obliging nature. Reiko understood what must have happened, and she burned with anger at the rapist. "He lured you to him by playing on your kindness."

"But I was stupid!" Chiyo cried. "I fell for the trick. I deserve for my husband to divorce me and take our children."

Women were also taught to be humble and accept responsibility for whatever ills came their way. "No!" Reiko said. "You couldn't have known it was a trick. Neither could anybody else. Don't blame yourself."

Weeping contorted Chiyo's face. "My husband does."

So would most other people, Reiko thought sadly. "Your husband is wrong."

"I'm fortunate that my father hasn't cast me off, too."

Most fathers probably would shun a daughter who'd been violated. The fact that Major Kumazawa hadn't bespoke his love for Chiyo. Perhaps Sano's picture of him as a rigid, tradition-bound samurai wasn't completely accurate.

"Your father has put the blame exactly where it belongs-on the man who hurt you," Reiko said. "He wants to catch him and punish him. So do I." She felt her own taste for vengeance. "Don't you?"

"Oh, I don't know." Chiyo looked worried at the thought of taking direct action against anyone. She probably didn't have a vengeful bone in her body, Reiko thought. "But if that's what everyone else wants…"

"We want justice for you. But we need your help."

"All right." Chiyo was clearly used to obeying authority. "What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me everything you can remember about the kidnapping and the attack. Let's begin with the man who tricked you. What did he look like?"

Chiyo pondered, frowned, then shook her head. "I don't know. I recall walking up to the bamboo grove. After that, everything is a blank until…" A shudder wracked her body. "Until I woke up." Chiyo turned her face into the pillow, as if hiding from the recollection.

Reiko speculated that Chiyo had been grabbed, then forced to drink a potion that rendered her unconscious and erased memories. She leaned forward, bracing herself to hear the awful details of the rape. She spoke quietly, trying not to pressure Chiyo. "Then what happened?"

"He… he touched me where no one but my husband has ever touched." Chiyo drew deep breaths and swallowed hard. "He suckled milk from me. And… he bit me."

She opened her robe. On her breasts, around the nipples, were curved rows of tooth marks, red and bloody. Reiko winced. "Did you see his face?"

"Only for a moment. Everything was misty and blurry. It was like…" Chiyo fumbled for words. "I once read a poem about a pavilion of clouds. It reminded me of that."

Reiko wondered if the clouds had been a hallucination caused by a drug.

"The clouds covered his face, except for his eyes and mouth," Chiyo said.

He'd worn a mask, Reiko deduced.

Chiyo shrank against the cushions, reliving her fear. She whispered, "He was so ugly and cruel. Like a demon."

"Was he someone you recognized? Did he seem familiar?"

"No. At least I don't think so."

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"

"Perhaps," Chiyo said uncertainly.

Reiko hid her dismay at the idea that the rapist might get away with his crime because Chiyo had so little memory of it. "Can you remember anything that might help us identify him?"

More shudders convulsed Chiyo. "His voice. While he did it, he muttered, 'Dearest mother. My beloved mother.' "

Reiko felt her own body shiver with disgust at the rapist's perversion. "Did you hear anything besides his voice?"

"The rain and thunder outside."

That didn't help narrow down the location; it had been raining all over Edo for days. And maybe Chiyo had imagined the clouds she'd seen. "Clouds and rain," was the poetic term for sexual release. Maybe the drug had conjured up the clouds and linked them with the rain, and her violation, in her dazed mind.

"Think again. Can you remember anything else at all?" Reiko said hopefully.

"I'm sorry, I cannot." Chiyo sighed, exhausted and weakened from reliving her ordeal. "I went back to sleep."

Then she froze rigid, her muscles locked in a sudden, brief spasm. Her expression alternated among shock, fright, and horror. "No! Oh, no!"

"What's wrong?" Urgency seized Reiko. "What do you remember?"

"Something new. I woke up again. Just for an instant. Because he slapped my face." Chiyo touched her cheek. "And I heard him say that if I told anybody what he'd done to me, he would kill me, and kill my baby, too."

Her voice rose in hysteria. "I told! And I shouldn't have! Now I'll be punished. Now my baby is going to die!"

"That's not going to happen," Reiko assured Chiyo. "You're safe here. Your father will protect you. My husband and I will catch the man before he can make good on his threat." Reiko would do everything in her power to deliver the monster to justice. Even though she knew there was no guarantee that she would succeed, she said, "I promise."

10

Sano and his entourage arrived in the street where he'd found Chiyo. The rain had stopped for the moment. The balcony that had sheltered him and his men belonged to one of several shops in a row that sold confectionaries. Lines of customers extended outside the doors. Sano worked his way down the row, asking shopkeepers if they'd seen Chiyo stumbling through the rain yesterday.

"I saw her," said one man as he wrapped cakes. "I thought she was just a drunken whore."

Sano retraced Chiyo's footsteps around a corner and down another block, whose shops sold religious supplies. Two dealers had seen Chiyo; the rest hadn't. Dividing the shops was an alley, wider than the usual narrow space that ran between buildings. It was a firebreak, designed to reduce crowding and prevent the spread of fires, and apparently used as a side street. Sano and Detectives Marume and Fukida walked down the alley, skirting puddles. Balconies overhung recessed doorways and malodorous nightsoil bins. As he examined the paving stones, Sano spotted blood that had collected in the cracks. He pictured Chiyo falling, hitting her head.

"This is where Chiyo was dumped," Sano said.

An old woman with a tobacco pipe clamped between her teeth hobbled out on a balcony, picked up a quilt that had been left out in the rain, wrung out the soaked fabric, and cursed. Sano called up to her, "Did you see anyone come through here yesterday, during the storm?"

"An oxcart. They take a shortcut instead of going around the block." The woman puffed on her pipe, which gave off foul smoke. "There's just enough room for them to squeeze through, but they scrape the walls. And the oxen leave dung. Filthy beasts! I pick up the dung, save it in this bucket, and throw it at the drivers." She cackled.

"Chiyo must have been dumped from that oxcart," Sano said to his detectives, then asked the woman, "Did you get a look at the driver? What was the cart carrying?"

"No. I didn't see. It was covered by a piece of cloth."

"He hid her under the cloth so no one would see her," Fukida said.

"But who is 'he'?" Marume asked.

"That's the question," Sano said. "Let's go find that oxcart." He recalled the construction site they'd passed yesterday. "I know where to start."

The Hibiya administrative district near Edo Castle was thick with samurai. They filled the streets where government officials lived and worked in mansions protected by high stone walls. Some of them wore the silk robes of high rank, some the armor tunics of soldiers; all were equipped with the customary two swords of their class. Some rode in palanquins or on horse back followed by attendants; the lowlier trudged on foot. They all moved aside to make way for Hirata.

As he rode down his cleared path through the crowd, his reputation as the top martial artist in Edo cloaked him like a golden suit of armor. Rumor said he could read minds, see behind him, anticipate an opponent's every move, and communicate with the spirit world.

There was truth to the rumor. His training had developed mental powers that everyone had to some degree but few ever learned to exercise.

Part of his perception focused on his surroundings. It noted the faces he passed, the plod of hooves and sandals on wet streets, the rustle of straw rain capes, the bright umbrellas. The other part, honed by arcane training rituals, sensed the energy auras around each human being. In each pattern of heat and light and vibration he could read personality and emotion. Some pulsed faintly, the auras of weak wills; others flared with confidence. In battle, the aura functioned as a warrior's first line of defense, a shield. A strong aura could deflect blows as effectively as a sword could and defeat an enemy without a single strike.

In present company, no aura was as powerful as Hirata's.

Now Hirata perceived a configuration of arrogance and recklessness in three auras among the crowd. They belonged to three young soldiers who came riding toward him. The men jumped from their saddles and blocked his path. The tallest one had eyebrows like black slashes, an out-thrust square jaw, and the lean, muscular physique of a man who spent much time at martial arts practice, unlike many samurai. His armor tunic sported the Tokugawa crest. He swaggered up to Hirata and said, "I challenge you to a duel."

Hirata experienced a sinking sensation. "You don't want to do this," he said.

"What's the matter? Are you scared I'll beat you?" the soldier taunted. "Come down and fight!"

This wasn't the first time Hirata had been challenged. A reputation like his had certain disadvantages. He'd lost count of how many samurai had accosted him, eager to prove their fighting skills superior to his. So far none had succeeded. But they'd caused Hirata serious problems nonetheless.

The soldier's companions yelled, "Coward! Loser!"

A crowd gathered around Hirata and the samurai, avid for a fight. "Well?" the soldier shouted. "Aren't you going to defend your honor?"

"I'm going to give you a chance to save your life," Hirata said. "Go, and we'll pretend this never happened."

The soldier went red with anger. "Are you saying I'm not good enough to fight you? In front of all these people?"

"I'm saying don't be foolish."

"I'll make you fight me," the soldier huffed. He looked around the audience and spied a teenaged peasant boy, a servant. "Hey, you! Come here."

The boy looked dismayed to be drawn into the argument. The soldier's friends grabbed him. They shoved him at the soldier, who drew his sword and said to Hirata, "If you won't, I'll fight this boy instead."

Hirata was appalled at the lengths to which men would go in order to provoke him. "Wait," he said, and jumped off his horse. He couldn't let an innocent bystander suffer.

The spectators cheered as he strode forward. He seized the friends, twisted their arms, and flung them to the ground. They shrieked. The boy scampered off unharmed. The soldier yelled and charged at Hirata, waving his sword.

Hirata's mind and body instinctively united in action. He drew a deep breath that aerated his entire body. His heart pumped blood and energy through his veins as a mystic trance came upon him. His perception expanded. He projected his vision into the future. It showed him ghostly images where the people would move in the next few moments. He saw the soldier coming as if in slowed motion, his ghost one step ahead of him. The ghost's sword traced curving, shimmering lines that the real blade would soon follow. Hirata glided between the lines. The soldier's sword whistled harmlessly around him. Hirata launched a kick at the ghost.

A split instant later, his foot struck the soldier's stomach. The soldier howled, flying backward into the crowd, which scattered to get out of his way. He hit the side of a building. His head banged against the wall. His face went blank. He slid down the wall, leaving a red smear where his head had hit. He sagged onto the ground, his scalp bleeding profusely.

Hirata's awareness reverted to normal. The ghostly images and energy auras faded; his breathing and pulse slowed. He found himself in the center of a silent, awestruck audience. The soldier lay crumpled, motionless. His friends rushed to him, crying, "Ibe-san! Are you all right?"

"He'll wake up soon," Hirata said with more confidence than he felt. He was good at gauging the force necessary to subdue attackers without killing them, but he hadn't anticipated the wall meeting Ibe's head.

"Let this be a lesson to anyone who wants to challenge me," Hirata announced.

The crowd dispersed. As the friends of the soldier hoisted him onto his horse and led it off, along came a doshin Hirata knew from his police days. The doshin, named Kurita, was an older man with a rough, cheerful face, dressed in a short kimono and cotton leggings. In addition to his swords he wore a jitte-a metal wand with a hook above the hilt for catching an attacker's blade-standard police equipment. His three assistants followed him, armed with rope for restraining criminals.

"Well, if it isn't Hirata-san," he said. "Not another duel! Haven't you been warned about that?"

"Yes, by the shogun himself, no less."

The shogun had heard reports of the duels and not been pleased. He abhorred violence, and he'd ordered Hirata to cease dueling and threatened him with banishment if he didn't stop.

"We can't have you killing and maiming Edo's best young men, especially those from the Tokugawa army," Kurita said.

"If Edo's best young men would leave me alone, there'd be no problem," Hirata said.

He rode to police headquarters, a walled compound in the southern corner of the Hibiya district. Guards let him through the ironclad gate, into a courtyard surrounded by barracks and stables. A few criminals, recently arrested, their hands bound with rope, huddled miserably under the dripping eaves, awaiting an escort to jail.

Hirata strode into the main building. The reception room was a cavernous space divided by square pillars that supported a low ceiling. Messengers crouched on the floor and smoked pipes that fouled the air. Closed skylights leaked water into buckets set on the platform where three clerks knelt at desks. The chief clerk greeted Hirata and said, "It's been a long time."

"Greetings, Uchida-san," Hirata said.

Uchida was a middle-aged samurai with flexible, comic features. He'd held his job since Hirata had been a child, and was a trove of information about crime, criminals, and all police business in Edo.

"What can I do for you today?" Uchida asked.

"I need your help with a case I'm investigating." Hirata explained, "Chamberlain Sano's cousin Chiyo was kidnapped."

"So I've heard." Uchida's mobile features drooped with concern. He lowered his voice. "Raped, wasn't she? Poor girl. Well, I'm glad she's home safe. I hope you catch the bastard. How can I help?"

"Her father told Chamberlain Sano that when she went missing, he reported it to the police," Hirata began. "Have you heard about that, too?"

Uchida pulled a grimace. "Major Kumazawa stalked in here like a conquering general. He demanded that we drop everything and look for his daughter. But we couldn't, could we? Put every man on the search and let the criminals run wild in the meantime?"

"Of course not," Hirata agreed. "But I hope someone made an effort to find Chiyo."

"Sure we did," Uchida said. "A missing person is a missing person. We were duty-bound to investigate even if Major Kumazawa didn't exactly make us eager to do it."

If Major Kumazawa hadn't been so high-handed, the police might have worked harder and rescued Chiyo sooner, Hirata thought. "What did the investigation turn up?"

"Nothing," Uchida said. "Our officers in Asakusa had a look around the shrine where she disappeared, but nobody there saw anything. But I've got a bit of news that might be related to the crime."

"What?" Hirata said, surprised. "Did you tell Major Kumazawa?" The man hadn't given Sano any information from the police, as far as Hirata knew.

"I didn't get a chance," Uchida defended himself. "He threw a fit because we didn't all jump at once, then he stormed out of here before I could speak."

"Well, cough it up," Hirata said.

Uchida paused, letting the suspense build, until prodded by a frown from Hirata. "Chamberlain Sano's cousin isn't the only woman to be kidnapped lately. There have been two others."

11

"Is anyone following us?" Yanagisawa said.

"No, master," said one of his two bodyguards.

They were riding along a rain-swept quay in the Hatchobori district. Their wicker hats concealed their faces; their straw capes covered the identifying crests on their garments. Yanagisawa glanced furtively over his shoulder at the watercraft moored at the quay. He didn't see anyone except laborers hurrying goods from barges to ware houses. But this was a time for extra caution.

The other guard said, "Your precautions seem to have worked."

After leaving Edo Castle, Yanagisawa and his guards had traveled by palanquin to the estate of a daimyo who was an ally. They'd borrowed horses, donned rain gear, and ridden out the back gate. They'd surely lost anyone who'd followed them from the castle. Now they turned down a street where shops, restaurants, and teahouses occupied narrow storefronts. The street was deserted except for a samurai-one of Yanagisawa's own troops-who stood outside a teahouse distinguished by a giant conch shell hung above its entrance.

Yanagisawa's party dismounted. The samurai opened the door. Yanagisawa and his bodyguards stepped inside, where two more of his soldiers waited in a room with a tatami floor and a low table for drinks, otherwise empty. They'd cleared out the proprietor and customers in advance of Yanagisawa's arrival.

"Are they here yet?" Yanagisawa asked, shedding his wet hat and cape.

The soldiers pointed to a doorway covered with a blue curtain. As he moved toward it, Yanagisawa felt excitement speed his pulse. He was embarking upon the plan he'd outlined to his son last night. His success depended upon the people he was about to meet.

Pushing aside the curtain, he stepped into another room. On the tatami floor knelt two old women. Both in their sixties, they wore rich silk robes patterned in muted colors that gleamed in the gray light from the barred window. Their faces were made up with white rice powder and red rouge, their hair upswept and anchored with lacquer combs. They both looked out of place in these humble surroundings. Otherwise, they could not have been more different.

The younger woman boldly spoke first. "You have kept us waiting for more than an hour." Her speech was crisp, precise, high-class. She had an emaciated figure on which her rich garments hung like cloth on sticks. Her face was narrow, with elegant bone structure, but the right side was distorted, its muscles bunched together, the eye half closed, as if in pain.

"It was best that we not arrive at the same time and be seen together," Yanagisawa explained.

"Still, you took far too long getting here, Honorable-"

Yanagisawa raised his hand. "We'll not use our real titles or names," he said, kneeling opposite the women. "You can call me 'Ogata.' I'll call you 'Lady Setsu.' "

"Surely such theatrics are not necessary here." She swept a disdainful gaze around the shabby room, the window that gave a view of an empty alley in a neighborhood where no one they knew ever came.

"There are spies everywhere," Yanagisawa said, "as you well know."

"Lady Setsu" nodded, conceding his point. Her right eye leaked involuntary tears.

"Me, what about me?" the elder woman piped up. She had a babyish voice and a doughy face that reminded Yanagisawa of a rice cake dusted with powdered sugar. "What shall I be called?" She giggled. "I've always liked the name 'Chocho.' "

Butterfly, Yanagisawa thought. How inappropriate for such an old, fat woman. " 'Lady Chocho' you shall be," he said, putting on his most gallant, charming manner. "It's most suitable. You are as pretty and graceful as your namesake."

Lady Chocho preened, delighted by his flattery. Yanagisawa smiled. He'd already won an ally. But her companion frowned.

"It was quite inconvenient and uncomfortable to travel so far in such bad weather," Lady Setsu said, "particularly since my health is poor, as you well know."

Yanagisawa knew she suffered from terrible headaches that caused spasms in her face. "Yes, I do know, and I apologize for bringing you all the way out here," he said contritely.

Lady Chocho had borne the fruit that was key to his plan, whose acquisition was the object of this meeting. But Lady Setsu had a say in the matter, too.

"I didn't mind coming," Lady Chocho said, beholding Yanagisawa with the admiration that he often excited in both women and men.

Lady Setsu shot her a glance. Lady Chocho quailed and bowed her head. Lady Setsu had much influence over her friend, Yanagisawa knew from his informants.

"Why did you choose such a squalid dump?" Lady Setsu brushed at her sleeves as if afraid of fleas.

"Because it has no connection to us, and we'll never use it again," Yanagisawa said. "Those are my favorite criteria for places to hold secret meetings."

"Very well. I suppose you have a good reason for summoning us?" Lady Setsu's voice hinted that it had better be good. Even though he was the shogun's second-in-command, her age, her pedigree, and the irritability caused by her pain made her insolent.

"Yes," Yanagisawa said. "I've a proposal to make."

Suspicion narrowed her good eye. "What sort of proposal?"

"For a collaboration that would benefit us both."

Lady Setsu permitted herself a thin, bad-humored smile, which only appeared on the side of her face not distorted by the headache. "What can you offer that would induce us to collaborate with you?"

She pronounced the last word as if she thought him a demon incarnate, which she probably did. Yanagisawa didn't mind. He would rather be feared and reviled than discounted.

"I can offer you a chance at what you most want in the world," he said.

Lady Chocho tugged Lady Setsu's sleeve. "What's he talking about?"

"Quiet," Lady Setsu ordered. To Yanagisawa she said, "Why do you think that we want for anything? We're quite comfortably situated."

"That could change." Yanagisawa paused to let her absorb the ominous impact of his words. "The shogun's health is uncertain."

Lady Setsu regarded him suspiciously. "His Excellency was well enough to attend the martial arts tournament yesterday."

She was well informed, Yanagisawa observed. "Just last month he was wretchedly ill. You must be aware that he grows feebler with every passing year."

"Well, yes. But he often fancies himself ill when he isn't really."

"Still, he's an old man. He's expected to die sooner rather than later."

Lady Setsu hastened to say, "He's been threatening to die for ages." Just as Yanagisawa had hoped, the prospect of the shogun's passing deeply worried her. "He hasn't yet."

"Nobody lives forever," Yanagisawa pointed out. "And when he does die, the regime will change hands. The new dictator will have little use for people close to the past shogun." In case she missed his hint, he added, "People such as you."

Fear flashed across her expression. Yanagisawa knew he had her in his grasp now. "People such as yourself," she retorted.

"True," Yanagisawa said. "I'd like to know that when the dictatorship does change hands, I'll be safe. Wouldn't you?"

Lady Setsu said grudgingly, "I see your point."

"I don't," Lady Chocho said, pouting because they'd left her out of their discussion.

Yanagisawa turned to her with his most charming smile. "My point is that we have so much in common that we're destined to be great friends."

"Oh, I'd like that." Lady Chocho simpered.

Lady Setsu flicked a tolerant glance at her companion, then said to Yanagisawa, "What is your proposal?"

He hid his glee that he'd coaxed her this far. He must exercise caution. "The first step would involve a wedding."

"I love weddings!" Lady Chocho clapped her hands in delight. "Who's getting married?"

Comprehension dawned on Lady Setsu's face. "Your nerve is astounding. You take my breath away."

"He takes mine away, too," Lady Chocho said with a giggle.

"So you don't like my plan?" Yanagisawa prepared to argue, cajole, and eventually convince.

"I didn't say that." Lady Setsu's manner expressed reluctant admiration for his ingenuity. "But you realize there are serious obstacles."

"None that I can't get around."

Her painted eyebrows rose in surprise; she shook her head. "I always knew you were ruthless, but until this moment I didn't realize how much so."

"Well, what do you think?" Yanagisawa said. "Shall we be partners?"

"I say yes," Lady Chocho said, ready to join him in anything he proposed whether she understood it or not.

But Lady Setsu said, "I refuse to make a major decision in such a hurry. There are other people whose future is at stake."

"Of course," Yanagisawa said. "I didn't mean to imply that the interests of all parties wouldn't be taken into account. Forgive me if I gave you that impression. I was about to suggest that everyone involved should meet and have a chance to approve of the plan."

For a moment Lady Setsu beheld him with silent outrage that he would forsake all sense of propriety and ask her to be his accomplice. But they both knew how much she dreaded the future, the unknown. Better to ally herself with a demon who was familiar than to depend on the whim of strangers.

"I will take the next step, but that is all I will commit to now," she said.

"Good enough," Yanagisawa said. "Shall we have a drink?"

"Oh, yes," Lady Chocho said.

Yanagisawa poured cups of sake from a decanter on the table. Lady Setsu covertly removed a vial from her sleeve and dosed her sake with opium potion. Yanagisawa said, "Here's to our joining forces in the near future."

"I can't wait," Lady Chocho said, batting her eyes at Yanagisawa.

"We'll see about that," Lady Setsu said.

They drank and bowed. The women left the teahouse first. Then Yanagisawa and his men took their leave. As they rode home in the rain, he congratulated himself on a mission almost accomplished.

In the alley outside the teahouse, beneath the window of the room where Yanagisawa had met the two women, a pile of trash stirred. Broken planks shifted; an old bucket foul with rotten fish entrails rolled free as a man dressed in beggar's rags emerged. Toda Ikkyu stood and flexed his cramped muscles. He'd overheard everything Yanagisawa and the women had said. The paper panel that covered the window had blocked out sights but not sound. Now Toda had interesting news to report to Chamberlain Sano-or not.

12

Below the highway between Asakusa and Edo, raindrops pattered into the rice fields. Sano and his entourage rode past pedestrians who looked like moving haystacks in their straw capes. Ahead Sano saw Hirata galloping on horse back toward him from the city.

"Any luck?" Hirata said as he turned his mount and rode alongside Sano.

"Yes and no," Sano said. "We located the place where my cousin Chiyo was dumped by her kidnapper. An oxcart was seen there, but we couldn't find it."

"When you don't want oxcarts, they're all around, blocking the streets and stinking up the city," Marume said. "When you do, there's not a single blessed one in sight."

Sano had led his men back to the construction site where they'd seen oxcarts yesterday, only to find the site deserted due to the rain. Sano and his men had combed the Asakusa district, but all the oxcarts seemed to have vanished.

"We'll have to go to the stables and track down the drivers who were working in Asakusa yesterday and when Chiyo was kidnapped," Sano said.

"Maybe I can save you the trouble," Hirata said.

Sano had figured that Hirata must have good news or he wouldn't have come looking for him, but he was surprised nonetheless. "Don't tell me the police actually investigated Chiyo's kidnapping and turned up some suspects?"

"No," Hirata said, "but their chief clerk says that two other women were kidnapped before your cousin was. Both were missing for a couple of days. Both were found near the places where they were taken."

Sano felt a mixture of excitement and dismay. He hated the thought that two more women had suffered, but the other crimes might provide clues. "Who are these women?"

"One is an old nun named Tengu-in," Hirata said. "She lives in a convent in the Zj Temple district."

"Merciful gods," Fukida said. "Who would rape a nun?"

"She was taken on the first day of the third month and found two days later," Hirata said. "The other is a twelve-year-old girl."

That shocked the detectives speechless. Sano, thinking of his own young daughter, felt sick with horror.

"She was kidnapped on the third day of last month, found two days later. Her name is Fumiko," Hirata said. "I happen to know her father. His name is Jirocho."

"The big gangster?" Sano said.

"None other."

The gangster class had proliferated since the civil war era some hundred years ago, when samurai who'd lost their masters in battles had become rnin and wandered Japan, raiding the villages. Brave peasants had banded together to protect themselves. Today's gangsters were descendants of these heroes. But times had changed. The Tokugawa government enforced law and order throughout Japan. No longer needed to protect the villages, the gangsters had turned to crime. Their ranks had swelled with thieves, con artists, and other dregs of society.

"When I was a police officer, I arrested Jirocho a few times," Hirata said, "for extorting money from market vendors." There were two distinct types of gangster-the bakuto, gamblers who ran illegal gambling dens, and the tekiya, who were associated with trade and sold illicit or stolen merchandise. Jirocho belonged to the latter type. "He made them pay him for not stealing their goods, driving their customers away, and beating them up."

"Why's he still on the loose?" Marume asked.

"Friends in high places," Fukida said.

Hirata nodded. Sano knew that Jirocho and other gang bosses bribed government officials to let them carry out their business. As chamberlain, Sano tried to discourage this corrupt practice, but it was hard to catch the officials colluding with the gangsters, and the gangsters actually benefited the government. They helped to keep the growing merchant class under control and provided public services such as money-lending and security. Still, Sano thought this cooperation between government and gangsters boded ill for the future.

"Well, now Jirocho is a possible witness in a crime rather than the perpetrator," Sano said. "Marume-san, you and Fukida-san will go to the stables and track down our oxcart driver. Hirata-san, you can question Jirocho and his daughter. I'll take the nun."

The Zj Temple district was a city within the city, home to forty-eight subsidiary temples, the Tokugawa mausoleum, and thousands of priests, nuns, monks, and novices. The high stone walls of Keiaiji Convent shut out the noises from the marketplace, the traffic of pilgrims and peddlers in the streets, and the chanting of prayers in nearby monasteries. Pine trees cleansed the air in spacious grounds landscaped with mossy boulders and raked white sand. The large building resembled a samurai mansion rather than the typical convent in which nuns lived in cramped, impoverished austerity. The abbess received Sano in a room furnished with a pristine tatami floor and a mural that showed Mount Fuji amid the clouds.

"I've come to inquire about Tengu-in, your nun who was kidnapped," Sano said.

The abbess wore a plain gray hemp robe, the uniform of Buddhist holy women. Her head was shaved; her scalp glistened with a thin fuzz of silver hair. She was as short and sturdy as a peasant, with broad features set in a square face and an air of authority.

"Ah, yes. It was a dreadful thing to happen," she said. "And to such a virtuous woman, yet."

Sano inferred from her hushed tone that the nun had been raped as well as kidnapped. "My condolences to her, and to you and her sisters," he said. "It must have been very upsetting for everyone here."

The abbess shook her head in regret. "Yes, indeed, especially since Tengu-in was such a favorite."

Her use of the past tense didn't escape Sano. Had her community ostracized Tengu-in because she'd been violated? "Is she still here?"

"Yes, of course," the abbess said. "She's a member of our order for life. What happened to her doesn't change that."

But the abbess's manner suggested that she'd become an unwanted burden, Sano thought.

"Tengu-in has been with us for eight years," the abbess said. "She joined our order after her husband died. They had been married for forty-five years."

Widows often did join convents, sometimes because they were devoutly religious, sometimes because their husbands' deaths left them impoverished and homeless. Tengu-in must be in her sixties, Sano deduced. That someone would kidnap and rape a woman who was not only a nun but so elderly!

"Her husband was a high-ranking official in Lord Kuroda's service," the abbess went on. "She came to us with a very generous dowry."

That explained how the order could afford such a nice home. When a rich woman entered a convent, she brought with her gold coins, silk robes, and expensive artifacts. This order had been lucky to get Tengu-in.

"But that isn't why we were so fond of her," the abbess hastened to say. "She is a good woman. She never expected special treatment because she was from high society. She always had a kind word for everyone."

Sano pitied Tengu-in, who hadn't deserved to suffer any more than Chiyo had. "Exactly where was she kidnapped?"

"Outside the main temple. Some of our nuns had gone there to worship. She got separated from the group. When it was time to go home, they couldn't find her. All of us looked and looked, and I reported her missing to the police."

Those circumstances sounded ominously familiar. "Where did she turn up?"

"Outside the temple's main gate, early in the morning," the abbess said. "Some monks found her. They brought her back to the convent."

Sano thought of the oxcart seen in the alley where his cousin had been dumped. "On the day the nuns went to Zj Temple, were there any oxcarts in the area?"

"They didn't mention it."

"What about near the gate on the day Tengu-in was found?"

"I don't know. But there has been work done on the temple buildings lately."

The government supported religion and had probably furnished oxcarts to bring supplies for repairs to the temple. "The reason I'm interested in Tengu-in is that the same thing recently happened to my cousin. I suspect that the same man is responsible for both crimes. I want to catch him, and I need Tengu-in's help. May I speak with her?"

"I'm afraid she won't tell you anything. She hasn't even told me. She's very upset."

"That's understandable," Sano said, "but I must insist. She may be my only chance of catching the criminal."

"Very well." The abbess rose and said, "I'll take you to her. But I beg you not to expect too much."

13

Jirocho the gangster boss lived in Ueno, one of Edo's three temple districts. Ueno was situated in the northeast corner of the capital, known as the unluckiest direction, the "devil's gate." Its temples were supposed to guard the city from bad influences, but evil existed there as well as every place else.

At first glance Jirocho's street was no different from any other in an affluent merchant quarter. Between the neighborhood gates at either end stood rows of large two-story houses with tile roofs, their entrances recessed beneath overhanging eaves. Four men loitered, smoking pipes. A casual observer would never suspect that one of Edo's notorious gang bosses lived here. But Hirata, riding up the street, spotted the signs.

The men were tattooed with blue and black designs that showed at the edges of their collars and sleeves. Once the tattoos had been used by the authorities to brand outlaws; now they were insignias that represented wealth, bravery, and other desirable traits. They declared which clan a gangster belonged to and were worn as proudly as samurai crests.

When Hirata dismounted outside the largest house, the gangsters converged on him. "Looking for something?" one gangster said. His manner was devoid of the respect usually shown by a commoner to a samurai. The tattoo on his chest depicted a dragon, symbol of Jirocho's clan. He was probably one of its low-level soldiers.

"I want to see Jirocho," Hirata said.

"What makes you think Jirocho would want to see you?"

"Tell him Hirata is here."

They froze at the sound of Hirata's name: His reputation had spread into the underworld. Gangsters hated to admit they were afraid of anybody; they would kill on the slightest provocation, and they fought savagely with rival gangs, but they were more inclined toward self-preservation than the samurai who constantly challenged Hirata. These four gangsters chuckled as if they'd been playing a joke on him. Three pretended an interest in reloading their pipes. The other ambled into the house. Soon he reemerged and beckoned Hirata inside.

Led down a corridor, Hirata saw rooms where gang members lounged, awaiting orders from their boss. They eyed him, silent and hostile. A group of them knelt in a circle, playing hana-fuda-the flower card game. They wore their kimonos down around their waists, displaying their tattoos. One man threw down his cards. The others laughed and exclaimed, "Ya-ku-za!"

Eight-nine-three. It was the worst hand possible, but the gangsters seemed to feel an affection for it. Maybe they thought it symbolized their no-good selves, Hirata speculated.

His escort left him in a reception room. The tatami floor mats were bound with embroidered ribbon and so thick that they felt like cushions under Hirata's feet. The mural on the wall depicted a garden of brilliantly colored flowers beside a blue river highlighted with ripples of silver and gold paint. Black lacquer screens sported gold-inlaid birds. Brass lanterns suspended from the ceilings dangled gold pendants. Shelves held a collection of gold figurines. Hirata got the message: Jirocho was filthy rich. But he hid his wealth behind closed doors. Not even a top gangster boss dared violate the sumptuary laws that prohibited commoners from flaunting their wealth.

Two women brought refreshments to Hirata. They were as beautiful and stylishly dressed as the most expensive courtesans in the Yoshiwara licensed pleasure quarter. They wordlessly served the tea and food and departed. Hirata listened to the gangsters talking and joking at their card game. His keen ears also picked up the sound of distant sobs.

He followed the sound down a passage to a door that was open just enough for him to peer inside. He saw a young man kneeling and weeping, arms extended on the floor. Two older gangsters stood over him. "I hear you've been keeping some of the money you collected from the vendors," said a deep, scratchy voice. Hirata couldn't see the man who spoke, but he recognized the voice as Jirocho's. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

"I'm sorry," the young man cried. "I shouldn't have done it!"

Hirata knew that gangsters had a code of honor consisting of three rules: Don't touch the wife of a fellow member; don't reveal gang secrets to outsiders; and, above all, be loyal to the boss. If the boss says crows are white, you must agree, the saying went.

One of the two gangsters standing grabbed the young man and yanked him upright. The other shoved a heavy wooden table in front of him and offered him a cleaver. Even as he sobbed in fright, the young man took the cleaver in his left hand. He positioned his right hand with its little finger laid against the table, its others curled into a fist. He raised the cleaver, screamed, and hacked off the tip of his finger.

Hirata blinked. He'd seen many acts of violence, but this one shocked him even though he knew it was common among gangsters. One who broke the rules would lose a finger joint for each offense. Samurai who violated Bushido were punished by compulsory suicide, but Hirata thought this forced self-mutilation was bizarre.

Pale as death, the trembling young man accepted a white silk cloth from one of the other gangsters. He wrapped his severed finger in the cloth and offered the package to Jirocho.

"You're forgiven this time," Jirocho said. "Don't let there be a next time."

Hirata silently slipped away and returned to the reception room. Soon Jirocho entered. "Well, well, Hirata-san. This is a surprise."

Now in his fifties, Jirocho had changed in the twelve or so years since he and Hirata had last met. Beneath the gaudy silk robes that he wore in private defiance of the sumptuary laws, his figure was pudgier because he sat around and gave orders instead of prowling the streets and fighting as he'd done in his youth. His hair had turned gray and he'd gone bald at the temples; his jowls sagged. But his sharp eyes gleamed with the familiar look of controlled aggression. His thick mouth wore the same predatory smile that Hirata remembered.

The biggest change had less to do with Jirocho than with Hirata's own expanded perception.

For the first time Hirata saw Jirocho's shield. It exuded a magnetic attraction as well as sheer ruthlessness. Once Hirata had wondered how Jirocho had climbed the ranks from petty thief to boss of his own gang. Now he knew. Jirocho drew weaker men like a magnet draws iron specks.

"Have you come to arrest me again?" Jirocho's smile broadened: He knew he was safe, protected by the same government that Hirata served.

"Not today," Hirata said. "I'm here about a crime, but not one that you committed."

"What crime?"

"The kidnapping of your daughter."

Jirocho's smile vanished. He abruptly turned away. "I won't talk about that."

"I'm afraid you'll have to," Hirata said. "Chamberlain Sano and I are investigating another kidnapping that may be related to your daughter's. We need information."

"You'll have to get it somewhere else," Jirocho said, his back turned, his voice cold.

"How about if I talk to your daughter?"

"My daughter Fumiko is dead."

"What?" Hirata was surprised. "The police say she was found alive."

"She's dead to me." Jirocho turned to face Hirata, who saw that his eyes were wet and ablaze with angry tears. "Some filthy monster ruined my girl. She was disgraced."

Her kidnapping had one more thing in common with Sano's cousin's, Hirata realized. Fumiko, too, had been raped.

"I had to disown her, for the sake of my clan's honor," Jirocho said.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. I threw her out of the house."

"You threw a twelve-year-old girl out to fend for herself?" Hirata was horrified by Jirocho's attitude.

Jirocho gave him a hostile stare. "I loved Fumiko with all my heart, but things have changed. Wait until it happens to your daughter, then let's see how you react."

Hirata thought of little Taeko, whom he would always love and protect no matter what. But he wasn't as bound by conventions as Jirocho was in spite of his outlaw background. And he shouldn't criticize Jirocho if he wanted his cooperation.

"All right," Hirata said, "I understand. But I still need your help. Perhaps you would let me talk to Fumiko's mother?"

"Her mother died when she was a baby," Jirocho said. "I raised her myself."

Hirata made one last try. "Chamberlain Sano's cousin was kidnapped and violated, perhaps by the same man as Fumiko. We're seeking justice for her. Don't you want to avenge your daughter?"

"Oh, indeed, I do. Make no mistake." Jirocho spoke with a savagery that darkened his face. This was the man who forced his henchmen to cut off their own fingers as punishment for crossing him. He would never let anyone get away with violating his daughter, even though he'd forsaken her. "But I'll do it myself, my way."

Things had been bad enough when Major Kumazawa had conducted a search for his daughter, offending and threatening people wherever he went. Now Hirata was appalled by the idea of the gangster boss out for blood.

"You stay out of this," he ordered Jirocho. "Let Chamberlain Sano and me handle it. Just tell me what you know about your daughter's kidnapping."

Jirocho's face was stony, closed. "With all due respect to you and Chamberlain Sano, this score is mine to settle personally. Now please leave."

The gangster who'd escorted Hirata into the house escorted him out. When they reached the street, Hirata asked, "Where can I find Jirocho's daughter?"

"If Jirocho won't tell you, neither will I," the gangster said. "I don't talk about his business."

Hirata observed that the gangster's energy shield was weak. This was the kind of man he could manipulate. "Where is she?" Hirata said, projecting the force of his will at the gangster.

"In the marketplace," the gangster said obediently.

"Where was she kidnapped and found?"

"By Shinobazu Pond." Now the gangster's eyes widened in fright because he realized he'd broken a gang rule.

"Thank you," Hirata said. "I won't tell your boss."

The abbess led Sano into the convent's chapel, which was shaded by pine trees and darkened by closed shutters. Inside, a low altar held a gold Buddha statue that sat amid gold lotus flowers, lit candles, and brass incense burners that emitted pungent, bittersweet smoke. Before the altar knelt a nun, shrouded in a gray hemp robe, her head covered with a white drape. She rocked slowly back and forth.

"Since she was kidnapped, all she does is pray," the abbess said in a quiet, sad voice. "She won't talk to anyone. It's as if she's living in a world of her own."

Now Sano understood why the other nuns considered her a problem. As he and the abbess moved toward her, he noticed someone else standing in an alcove, like a guardian deity. It was a girl in her teens, with an innocent, pretty face, her hair tied in a kerchief.

"That's Ume," the abbess said. "One of our novices. I've assigned her to watch over Tengu-in." She whispered, "When she first came home, she took a knife and cut her arm."

Had she been trying to punish herself for the rape, which many people would consider her fault? Sano felt a terrible pity for the old woman. He knelt at the altar, far enough away from her that she wouldn't feel threatened by his presence, but close enough to see her clearly. Now he observed that her body was emaciated; her robes hung on her skeleton.

"She won't eat," the abbess said, "or sleep, either."

Her profile was sharp with facial bones visible through taut, waxen skin. Her eyes were closed tight, their lids purplish. Her lips moved, but she made no sound.

"Tengu-in," Sano said quietly.

She seemed not to notice him. Her lips kept moving; she rocked to some inner, secret rhythm.

"Can you hear me?"

There was no response. The novice gave a faint, desolate sigh. The abbess said sadly, "I warned you."

But Sano couldn't give up. "Tengu-in, I'm Chamberlain Sano. Tell me what happened when you were kidnapped."

She continued her silent praying. Her face was expressionless, animated only by the flickering candlelight.

"Who took you?" Sano persisted. "Was it someone you recognized?"

No answer came.

Sano appealed to the kind nature that the abbess had said Tengu-in had once possessed. "I believe this man has kidnapped and attacked two other women besides you. One of them is my cousin. I must catch him before he hurts anyone else. And I need your help."

His words didn't penetrate the invisible shell into which she'd retreated. In an attempt to reach her, he spoke louder, urgently: "What did he look like? Where did he take you?"

"It's no use," the abbess said as Tengu-in prayed, rocked, and ignored everyone. "Even if she's listening, she won't speak."

Sano rose, reluctantly. He didn't want to leave empty-handed. "I need to question everyone who was with Tengu-in on that trip to Zj Temple."

"Ume was." The abbess beckoned to the novice.

The girl crept over to Sano and bowed, her eyes open wide with anxiety.

"What happened?" Sano said. "How did Tengu-in just suddenly disappear?"

"I don't know," she said in a barely audible whisper. She clenched her hands under her sleeves and cast a nervous glance at the abbess.

Sano said to the abbess, "I'd like to speak with Ume privately."

Disapproval crossed the older woman's face, but she couldn't deny his request. She said, "I'll be right outside," and departed.

Sano said, "Whatever secret you don't want her to know, it's safe with me."

The girl's face crumpled. Tears shone in her eyes. "It's my fault Tengu-in was kidnapped."

Sano couldn't believe that this innocent-looking girl was in any way responsible for the crime. "How so?"

"We were supposed to stay with her. I should have watched out for her." Ume sobbed as she gazed down at Tengu-in, who seemed oblivious. "Instead, I ran ahead with the other novices. She was too slow. She couldn't keep up."

Sano envisioned the old woman hobbling through the temple grounds in the wake of the young, exuberant girls. Perhaps they had been negligent, but he said, "You're not to blame. You couldn't have known she was in danger."

"But I was doing something I shouldn't have been." Shamefaced yet eager to unburden herself, Ume said, "There was a group of novices from the monastery down the street. We-the other girls and I…"

The picture became clear to Sano. The girls had wanted to flirt with the young monks, so they'd run away from their chaperone. Joining a religious order didn't rid people of their natural human desires.

"I feel so guilty," Ume said as she wept. "I wish I could make up for what I did."

"Here's your chance," Sano said. "Help me catch the man who hurt her. When you were at the temple, did you see anyone or anything that looked suspicious?"

"No," Ume said, wiping her tears on her sleeve. "I've tried and tried to remember, but I don't."

Whoever had kidnapped Tengu-in couldn't have just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, swooped down on her like an eagle from the sky, and spirited her away, Sano thought. He would have had to single her out of the crowd, to await an opportunity to take her without anyone seeing.

He must have been watching her.

"Think back to the time before you and the other girls left Tengu-in," Sano said. "Did you notice anyone paying particular attention to your group?"

Ume pondered, then shook her head.

"Anyone following you?" Sano persisted.

"No. I'm sorry. I was busy looking at the monks." Then she frowned, as if startled by a memory forgotten until now.

"What is it?" Sano asked.

"I did see someone."

"At the temple?" Sano's pulse began to race in anticipation.

"No, not there. And not then. It was the day before. Outside the convent."

Maybe the kidnapper had had his eye on the nuns. Maybe he'd been spying on the convent, lying in wait for his chance to kidnap one. "Tell me what happened," Sano said urgently.

"It was after morning prayers. I sneaked outside." Ume's face flushed. "The monks walk past the convent on their way to the city. There's one that I-well, when he goes by, he smiles at me." Pleasure and guilt mingled in her voice. "That day, I missed him. But I saw a man standing in the street."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know. I'd never seen him before. Nor since."

"Can you describe him?"

"I didn't get a very good look. As soon as he saw me, he turned and walked away." Ume squinted, trying to bring the remembered glimpse of him into focus. "He was tall and strong. His hair was so short, the skin on his head showed through. He was old, about thirty."

Sano winced: He himself was forty-three, which she probably considered ancient. "What was he wearing?"

"A dark blue kimono."

Every commoner in Japan owned a cotton kimono dyed with indigo. And many of them cut their hair short to discourage fleas and lice. "Did his face have any distinctive features?"

"He looked like he hadn't shaved in a while." Ume brightened at a fresh recollection. "He had a big scab, here." She touched her right cheekbone. "I remember thinking he must have been in an accident or a fight."

That wasn't unusual, either. Sano pressed for more details, but Ume could provide none. "Did you see an oxcart?"

"No. I'm sorry," she said, gazing unhappily at Tengu-in, who prayed, rocked, and apparently had not heard any of the conversation.

But the oxcart could have been parked nearby, out of sight. The man she'd seen could have been the driver, who might have kidnapped Tengu-in, Chiyo, and Jirocho's daughter, too.

"You've been very helpful," Sano said.

"You'll catch him, won't you?" she said, with touching faith.

"I will," Sano vowed. He dared to think that he had a lead at last.

14

The marketplace in Ueno extended along the approach to the foot of the hill where Kannei Temple stood. Hirata rode past shops that sold boxwood combs and ear-cleaners and teahouses where customers ate rice steamed in lotus leaves, a local specialty. The street widened into the Broad Little Road, home to stalls and booths crammed with all sorts of goods. A few dancers, puppeteers, and acrobats entertained crowds diminished by the rain. Beneath the lively, colorful bustle of the market, Hirata saw its dark underpinnings.

Tattooed gangsters roamed, looking for any traders who didn't belong there, keeping an eye out for thieves. This was Jirocho's domain. He controlled the allocation of the stalls, shops, teahouses, and booths, collected rents from the vendors, paid tributes to the temple and taxes to the government, and kept a generous cut of the profits for himself. Here his daughter had sought refuge after he'd turned her loose.

Hirata rode down the aisles of stalls, looking for a twelve-year-old girl on her own. The market swarmed with children unaccompanied by parents. The orphans of Edo flocked to its temple markets in hope of food and alms. Children with dirty faces and dirtier bare feet, dressed in rags, grabbed scraps of food dropped outside the stalls and begged coins from the customers. They were such a usual part of the city scene that Hirata had never paid them much attention. Now he scrutinized the girls for some hours until he found one who looked to be the right age. She squatted on the ground, gnawing a rice ball. Long, matted hair hung over her face. She wore a white kimono printed with green leaves; it was torn and muddy.

"Fumiko-san?" Hirata called.

The girl looked up. She had elfin features marred by fading bruises around her eyes and scabs on her cheeks. Surprised to hear her name, frightened by the sight of Hirata, she crammed the food into her mouth and ran.

Hirata jumped off his horse and chased her. Fumiko was quick, darting through the crowds. But his longer stride gave Hirata an advantage, and he could follow the unique, starburst pattern of her energy. He tracked her to the narrow back streets where local brothels employed illegal prostitutes. Dressed in their trademark aprons, the women bargained with customers outside their rooms. Hirata cornered Fumiko in a doorway. She stood with her hands inside her sleeves, panting and trembling.

"Don't be afraid," Hirata said.

Her eyes gleamed with feral panic. After two months of living on the streets, she already looked more animal than human.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Hirata introduced himself, then said, "I want to help you."

Incredulity wrinkled her dirt-smeared brow. Hirata wasn't surprised that she didn't believe him. Why should she trust any man, after one had kidnapped, raped, and apparently beaten her, and her own father had cast her off?

His heart went out to the girl. Extending his hand, he said, "Come with me. I'll take you to a place where you'll be safe, and-"

Fumiko whipped her right hand out of her sleeve. She lashed at his face with a knife clutched in her fingers. Startled, he leaped backward just in time to avoid a nasty cut. Fumiko lunged around him and fled.

"Hey!" Hirata called. "Wait!"

But she was gone.

Sano arrived home in late afternoon. The sun was a pale, shimmering pearl behind gray clouds. In the courtyard, grooms took charge of his and his men's horses, which were spattered in mud from hooves to flanks. On the veranda of his mansion, servants rid Sano of his wet hat and cape. His secretary appeared and said, "Major Kumazawa is here to see you."

Sano was surprised that his uncle would come, without advance notice or invitation. They'd not parted on very good terms yesterday. "Show him into the reception room."

"I must inform you that the treasury minister and the judicial council are ahead of him in the queue."

"I'll see Major Kumazawa first."

Sano felt a strange attraction to his uncle, the pull of blood to blood, even though they didn't get along. He discovered in himself a yearning for the sense of family that had been diminished when he'd moved out of his parents' home, when his father had died, when his mother had remarried. The Kumazawa were his closest senior kin in town.

In the reception room, he found Major Kumazawa marching slowly back and forth like a soldier at a drill. His face was as stern and hard as ever, but his restlessness told Sano how distraught he still was about his daughter.

"I wanted to ask if your investigation has made any progress," Major Kumazawa said. "My apologies for showing up like this, but I thought I'd save you the trouble of another trip to Asakusa." He sounded much more polite than before, but of course this was Sano's territory.

"You knew where to find me," Sano said.

His tone hinted at the fact that his uncle had kept track of him since his birth. He saw a glint of antagonism in Major Kumazawa's eyes, but the man simply nodded and said, "I've been here before. When this place belonged to Yanagisawa."

That his uncle had been in his house, without his knowledge until this moment, gave Sano an eerie feeling, as if he'd just learned that his home was haunted by a ghost whose presence he'd never suspected. He recalled the vision he'd had at Major Kumazawa's house. He still didn't know what it meant.

"Please allow me to welcome you back," Sano said evenly.

They exchanged wary glances, both bracing for another clash. But Sano was determined to keep things civil. He didn't want a quarrel that would be overheard by his subordinates, or bad blood with his uncle to contaminate the peace of his home.

"How is Chiyo today?" he asked.

"I went home to check on her this afternoon. She was asleep. The doctor had given her a potion." Major Kumazawa's expression was grim. "My wife says that after your wife came to see Chiyo, she was very upset."

His gaze accused Reiko, and Sano, of upsetting Chiyo. Sano refused to seize on the pretext for another argument. "It stands to reason that she would be upset by talking about the crime. But if I'm to catch the man who kidnapped her, I must know as many details about it as possible. However, I may not need any more help from Chiyo. I discovered some clues today."

"Oh?" Major Kumazawa's eyebrows and tone lifted in surprise. "What sort?"

Sano couldn't help feeling pleased that he'd exceeded his uncle's expectations. He told Major Kumazawa about the oxcart spotted by the witness.

"An oxcart." Major Kumazawa looked disappointed, and skeptical. "If nobody saw Chiyo put into or thrown off it, how can you be sure it had anything to do with what happened to her? Even if it did, there are hundreds of oxcarts in Edo. They all look alike, and you said your witness didn't see the driver. How are you going to find the right one?"

"I'll find it." Sano had people out searching now. He'd expected Major Kumazawa to find fault with his results, but that didn't make the carping any less unpleasant. He would almost rather be working for the shogun, who always complained about his lack of progress and threatened him with death, but sometimes appreciated his efforts.

Sometimes.

At least Sano could tell himself that the shogun was a fool. Criticism from someone more intelligent was harder to stomach.

"I've also made another discovery: Two other women were kidnapped before Chiyo was." Sano told Major Kumazawa about the gangster boss's daughter and the nun. "The kidnappings may be related."

After he described what he'd learned at the convent, disapproval crossed his uncle's features. "You said you were going after the man who kidnapped my daughter, but you've been investigating this other woman?" Major Kumazawa said.

Nettled by the implication that he'd wasted time, Sano said, "The other crime is a new source of clues."

"I suppose so, but it doesn't sound as if you got anything out of the nun. With all due respect, you would do better to concentrate on Chiyo. Especially since you can't be sure that the crimes are related."

"I found other witnesses at the convent, and there are similarities between Chiyo's case and the nun's," Sano said, his patience slipping. "Both women are from samurai families. Both were kidnapped at places of worship, then found nearby."

"What about the gangster's daughter?"

Sano was at a disadvantage because he hadn't any information about that. "My chief retainer is investigating her case. I expect news from him soon."

"So maybe the cases are related," Major Kumazawa said. "Or maybe you're going down the wrong path."

Fed up now, Sano spoke more sharply than he'd intended: "Maybe you're not qualified to decide how this investigation should go."

They exchanged stares in hostile silence. Then Major Kumazawa said, "By the way, I met your father a few times."

Sano felt his muscles tense, but he said coolly, "I can guess when that was. When he asked your parents for my mother's hand in marriage. At the miai where he was formally introduced to her. Then, at their wedding."

Those were the instances when social custom had forced the Kumazawa clan to associate with the lowly rnin who'd married Sano's mother.

Major Kumazawa nodded. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Sano. "You take after your father."

Sano knew that Major Kumazawa wasn't referring to the physical similarities. His uncle was implying that he'd inherited bad character traits, chiefly his determination to follow his own will. And Major Kumazawa was blaming heredity on his father's side for what Major Kumazawa perceived as Sano's mishandling of the investigation. Sano burned with rage, and not only because Major Kumazawa would disparage his bloodline.

"It's obvious you didn't get to know my father very well," Sano said coldly. His father had been an old-style samurai with conventional notions about duty and bowing to authority and a distaste for individual initiative-everything Sano was not. "Making snap judgments about people based on limited acquaintance isn't very smart. Perhaps you take after your father."

Now it was Major Kumazawa's turn to bristle. "Perhaps I was wrong about you, Honorable Chamberlain. Perhaps you're more like your mother."

He must think that was the ultimate blow, to be compared to a disgraced woman. But Sano had reason to be proud of his mother, of her blood that ran in his veins. "If you say so, then I must thank you for the compliment. My mother did a great service for Japan." She'd been accused of murder and, in a startling instance of irony, emerged a heroine. "The shogun holds her in the highest esteem. He's pronounced himself in her debt forever."

The shogun had not only attended her recent wedding; he'd insisted on providing her dowry. He'd given her and her second husband enough gold to support them for the rest of their lives.

"My mother has managed to distinguish herself," Sano said, "probably more than anyone else in her family has." The bitter antipathy in Major Kumazawa's eyes said he resented Sano for pointing out the truth that his mother had risen above her estranged clan. Before Major Kumazawa could retort, Sano thought of something he'd been wanting to know. "After my parents were married, did you ever see my mother again?"

Caught off guard, Major Kumazawa said, "… No."

Sano didn't miss the pause before his answer. "Did you ever see me when I was a child?"

"Of course not."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" Major Kumazawa demanded.

"Only if you deserve the name," Sano said evenly.

"I never saw her, or you," Major Kumazawa said. "That's the truth, whether you believe it or not."

But Sano knew his uncle was lying. He was sure now that he had been to the Kumazawa house, had seen his uncle and aunt, who had seen him, too. He didn't know when or why, but he intended to find out, later.

Major Kumazawa started to speak, but Sano raised a hand. "That's enough about the past. Our main priority is catching the kidnapper. We should put our differences aside and concentrate on the investigation."

"I couldn't agree more," Major Kumazawa said with controlled hostility. "And since you insist on pursuing the matter of those other women, I will lead my own troops in a hunt for the man who raped my daughter."

"I've been meaning to speak to you about that," Sano said. "When I was looking for Chiyo, I came across many people that you and your men had bullied and threatened while you were looking for her."

"So we shook them up a little," Major Kumazawa said. "I did what I had to do."

"That's not the way to conduct an investigation," Sano said. "At best, it'll make people less willing to cooperate than if you treated them politely. At worst, you'll get false confessions, punish innocent folks, and waste your time. If you keep on, you'll only make my job harder. So don't interfere."

Major Kumazawa glared. "It's my daughter who was hurt. It's my right to avenge her."

"I certainly understand your position." If Akiko were hurt, Sano wouldn't let anyone stand between him and her attacker. "But I'm not going to change mine. Stay out of the investigation. That's an order."

Major Kumazawa flushed with humiliation because Sano had pulled rank on him yet again. "And if I don't obey?" he said, even though they both knew he must.

"You saw all the people in my anteroom. Hundreds of them come to see me every day. They all want me to do things for them. I don't need this investigation to keep me busy."

Now Major Kumazawa laughed, scorning Sano's hint that he would abandon the quest for justice for Chiyo unless Major Kumazawa cooperated. "No, but you won't walk away from Chiyo. Everybody knows your reputation. Once you've committed to doing something, you don't give up. You're an honorable man, I'll give you that. You would never break your word."

That had always been true in the past. Sano kept his promises and stayed the course even at the risk of his life. But things had begun to change when his mother had been accused of murder and Sano had learned that his background was different from what he'd always believed. During his investigation into the murder, he'd done things he'd never thought himself capable of; in particular, staging the trial and execution of Yoritomo, his onetime friend. Sano felt as if discovering the truth about his family had altered him in some fundamental way.

He no longer knew what he would or wouldn't do.

He wanted justice for Chiyo, but he was vexed by how his uncle treated him even while he was doing the Kumazawa clan a favor. Come to think of it, Sano was fed up after years of other people, the shogun among them, demanding service from him while throwing obstacles at him. Bushido dictated that he do his duty to his lord and his family without minding how they treated him or expecting rewards, but still…

Might he walk away from this investigation before it was done?

It wouldn't hurt to let his uncle think so.

"There's always a first time," Sano said.

15

Shinobazu Pond was a popular attraction in the Ueno temple district. Lotus plants bloomed on its wide expanse. A causeway led from the shore to an island in the middle, upon which stood a shrine dedicated to the goddess Benten. Along the embankments around the pond, teahouses offered splendid views and rooms for lovers to spend the night.

Today Hirata found the pond desolate in the rain that had started to fall again. Egrets stood like white specters among the lotus leaves in the mist. Lumber lay piled in the mud near the approach to the causeway. Teahouse proprietors stood on their verandas, gloomily surveying the scene. When they saw Hirata climb off his horse and walk toward them, they brightened and called, "Welcome, honorable master!"

One youthful, agile man with an ear-to-ear smile ran from his teahouse and intercepted Hirata. "Come in, come in. May I serve you a drink?"

"Yes, please," Hirata said, glad to get out of the rain.

Inside a room that smelled of mildewed tatami, the proprietor heated sake over a charcoal brazier. Two other men wandered in, perhaps hoping to woo Hirata to their establishments later. Hirata drank. The liquor was cheap and harsh, but it relieved the chill of the wet day. Introductions were exchanged; then Hirata said, "I'm investigating the kidnapping of Jirocho's daughter."

The three men nodded. The proprietor, whose name was Kanroku, said, "We heard about it. Such a terrible shame."

"I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even Jirocho," said another man, called Geki. He was in his fifties, with a sardonically humorous face accented by bushy eyebrows.

"Did you see anything suspicious the day Fumiko was kidnapped?" Hirata said.

"Not a thing. We didn't even know she was gone until Jirocho sent his men looking for her," Geki answered.

The third man, named Hachibei, who was old, white-haired, and spry, said, "Neither did anyone else we know. Everybody said it was as if she'd vanished into thin air."

Just as Chiyo had, Hirata recalled. "What about when she turned up?" he asked.

"That I did see," Geki said, "being that I'm the one who found her."

"Tell me what happened," Hirata said.

"It was an hour or so before dawn. I woke up because I needed to make water. When I was finished, I heard whimpering out there." Geki pointed toward the embankment. "I went to have a look." His humorous face turned somber. "She was lying on the ground. Her clothes were torn and she was bleeding between her legs. I recognized her right away. She used to hang around here a lot."

"She was always either by herself or with some young toughs from her father's gang," Kanroku the proprietor said. "I thought it was wrong for Jirocho to let her run wild like that."

"Me, too," old Hachibei said, "but who are we to tell a gang boss what to do?"

"I always said Fumiko would get in trouble someday, and I was right," the proprietor said wisely.

"People are saying that she wasn't kidnapped, that she went with a man, and then he got tired of her and dumped her," Geki said. "If it's true, then Jirocho was right to throw her out. I'd have done the same."

People were eager to blame the victim for the crime, Hirata thought. He asked, "When you found her, did you see anyone else around?"

"Not until I called for help and people woke up and came outside. Then I sent a servant to tell Jirocho. He came and took her home."

And then, upon learning she was damaged goods, he'd punished her.

"Did you hear anything?" Hirata asked.

Geki shook his head, then stopped as a look of sudden, surprised recollection came over his face. "Wait. I did."

Hirata felt a stir of excitement. "What?"

"Wagon wheels clattering," Geki said. "An oxcart."

Maybe it was the same one that had been sighted in the alley where Sano's cousin had been dumped. "But you didn't see it or the driver?"

"Not then," Geki said, "but maybe the day before. It could have been the fellow who brought that lumber outside."

"Who was that?"

"I don't know his name."

"Can you describe him?" Hirata said hopefully.

"He was about twenty-five," Geki said. "He had two missing teeth." He pointed at the two teeth to the right of his own big, yellowish front ones.

"Yes, that's right," the proprietor said. "I saw him, too. If he's the man that hurt Fumiko, I hope you catch him, the bastard."

After Major Kumazawa left, Sano felt simultaneously fatigued and riled up, as if he'd been in a fight that had no winner. And so he had. He rolled his shoulders, easing tense muscles. He'd put off his usual business of governing Japan, and he still had a long day of work ahead of him. He received the rest of his callers. By the time everyone was gone, it was late in the evening. Seated at his desk, Sano reviewed the most urgent reports and correspondence until his secretary came to the door and said, "Toda Ikkyu is here."

"Bring him in."

Toda entered, knelt, and bowed. He resembled a shadow in his gray clothes, in the dim light, his nondescript face bland.

"What have you to report, Toda-san?" Sano asked.

"I spent the day following our friend Yanagisawa."

"How did you manage that?" Sano's own men had been unable to follow Yanagisawa very long before he shook them off his trail.

"It's easy when you know the art of stealth," Toda said. Most samurai looked upon stealth as a dark art, unworthy of the Way of the Warrior. But that never bothered Toda, or Yanagisawa. "If he goes inside a building, don't wait for him at the front door; he'll come out the back. Don't expect him to look the same as he did when he went in-he'll have put on a disguise. And you should change your own appearance occasionally, or he'll spot you. You don't need a fancy disguise; a different hat will do."

"Thank you for the tips," Sano said. "I'll pass them on to my men. Where did Yanagisawa go?"

"To a teahouse in Hatchobori district, for what appeared to be a secret meeting."

Intrigued, Sano said, "With whom?"

"Two old ladies."

Sano had expected to hear that Yanagisawa had met with some daimyo, presumably to enlist their support in another bid for power. "Who were they?"

"I don't know," Toda said. "They were already secluded inside the teahouse when Yanagisawa and I arrived. And I didn't get a good look at them when they left. He called them 'Lady Setsu' and 'Lady Chocho.' But those are false names. He said as much. I did overhear some of their conversation."

"And just how did you manage that?"

Amusement crinkled Toda's eyes. "You don't want to know."

"What did they talk about?"

"The possibility of a marriage between someone connected with the ladies and someone connected with Yanagisawa."

"That doesn't sound like anything out of the ordinary," Sano said, feeling let down. "Yanagisawa does have four sons, including Yoritomo, all single and all of marriageable age."

"And a daughter. Don't forget Kikuko."

Sano would never forget Yanagisawa's beautiful but feeble-minded daughter, Kikuko. She'd once almost drowned his son. And her mother-Yanagisawa's deranged wife-had once tried to kill Reiko. When Yanagisawa had been exiled to Hachijo Island, his wife and daughter had gone with him. When he'd escaped, they'd stayed behind, but they'd recently returned and he'd installed them in a mansion in Kamakura. Sano had spies watching them, in case they should come back to Edo and threaten his family again.

"It stands to reason that Yanagisawa would want to marry off his children," Sano said.

Toda nodded. "He needs to make politically advantageous matches for them."

"But why the secrecy?" Sano said.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Toda shrugged.

Sano thought about how oddly Yanagisawa had been acting. Maybe he had decided that if he couldn't seize power by military might, he would achieve it through marriage. But with what family? A quick mental review of prominent clans and their eligible sons and daughters didn't provide the answer. There were so many, and no apparent explanation for why marriage negotiations with them should need to be kept under wraps.

"Continue your surveillance on Yanagisawa," Sano said. "Find out who those women are and who's the prospective bride or groom."

"Will do." Toda bowed and rose.

As he left the room, Sano wondered if there was anything Toda had heard or seen but neglected to mention.

As he mounted his horse outside the teahouse at Shinobazu Pond, the witnesses waved to Hirata from the veranda. He waved back and had started to ride away in search of other witnesses who'd seen the oxcart, when a sudden strange sensation came over him. It was an energy aura so powerful that the damp, drizzly air throbbed and scintillated. Not he, not even his teacher or the other venerable mystic martial artists he knew, had an aura as strong. Filled with awe, he yanked on the reins, brought his horse to a stop. He looked around for the source of the energy.

The embankment was deserted and dark. The teahouse proprietors had gone inside their buildings, and there was no one in sight. Rain pelted the lotus leaves in the pond. All appeared as peaceful and desolate as before. But Hirata felt alarm raise every hair on his body. Someone he couldn't see was watching him. His hand instinctively flew to his sword. His heart began to race, his own energy gathering in preparation for combat. He'd seldom had cause for fear; there were few men in all of Japan that he couldn't beat. But then why did he feel so certain that he was in the presence of danger?

The impulse to flee vied with the impulse to hunt for the person whose aura threatened him. Before Hirata could succumb to either urge, the aura vanished as suddenly as if some great, cosmic machine had ceased to run. All Hirata heard or felt was the rain. He was alone.

Down the corridor from Sano's office, Masahiro crouched on the floor, lining up his toy soldiers. He watched the man dressed in gray come out of the office. As the man walked away from Masahiro, he looked over his shoulder and smiled faintly before he vanished around a corner.

Masahiro told himself that he hadn't meant to listen in on his father's business.

Well, maybe he had.

He was curious about what Father did. Someday he would inherit Father's position. Father had said so. He should try to learn as much as he could, shouldn't he? There was nothing dishonest, sneaky, or wrong with that. He wasn't hurting anyone.

He'd overheard Father's whole conversation with the man named Toda. Now Masahiro thought about what they'd said. Toda seemed to be a spy. Father had sent him to follow Yanagisawa, the evil enemy who had tried over and over to destroy Father. Masahiro had heard Father and Mother trying to figure out why Yanagisawa wasn't attacking them anymore. Masahiro was interested in the secret meeting with the two old ladies. Why was it important whom Yanagisawa's children married?

And what did "politically advantageous" mean?

Masahiro had heard the term spoken around the estate, but the adults never explained. But he understood that Yanagisawa was up to something, and Father thought it was bad. Masahiro wished he could help Father. While he played with his toys, he felt sorry for himself. If only he could grow up quicker!

A sudden idea lit up his mind like the fireworks that were shot into the sky over the river in the summertime. Masahiro smiled. He knew what he could do!

Father had said to stay out of the kidnapping investigation, but this should have nothing to do with it. And Masahiro didn't think it would be dangerous. Father and Mother shouldn't mind.

The door to the office slid open. Before his father stepped out, Masahiro snatched up his soldiers, darted around the corner, and hid. He felt guilty because he suspected that Father wouldn't like him eavesdropping.

He wouldn't tell Father or Mother what he was going to do. They might say no. It would be a surprise for them. Masahiro was sure they would be pleased.

16

The sound of children laughing enlivened the private chambers of Sano's estate. In the main room, Reiko chatted with her friend Midori, who was Hirata's wife, as Akiko played with Midori's little girl and boy. The children turned somersaults across the floor. Servants cleared away the remains of the evening meal.

"Take it easy," Midori cautioned the children good-naturedly. "You'll get dizzy and throw up."

Masahiro lay on his stomach beneath the lantern, writing a lesson assigned by his tutor. Reiko peeked over his shoulder. He didn't need her to supervise his homework, but she enjoyed seeing how good his calligraphy was, and how well he expressed his ideas, even at such a young age. She smiled proudly, enjoying the peaceful, cozy evening.

The rain had stopped, and the open windows let in the cool, damp breeze that blew in from the garden, where crickets chirped and cicadas hummed in rhythm to the drip of water from the trees. Frogs sang in the pond. The garden was radiantly silver with moonlight. Life was good tonight, Reiko thought.

Sano entered the room. "Papa!" cried Akiko.

She ran to him, and he lifted her onto his shoulders. Masahiro jumped up and said, "Look at what I just wrote."

As Sano read and admired Masahiro's composition, Reiko took pleasure in the company of her family. She was glad to see Sano, for she was bursting with questions about his investigation and eager to tell him what she'd learned.

She was also relieved that he'd come home safely. She still felt a lingering anxiety from the dangerous days when they'd been threatened by war at every turn.

In walked Hirata. His children clung to his legs, and he trudged under their weight while they rode and cheered. Midori greeted him, smiling and giggly. Reiko knew they'd had marital troubles in the recent past. Hirata had been gone for the better part of five years, pursuing his mystic martial arts studies, Midori had suffered from his absences, and they'd grown apart. They'd since reconciled, and Reiko was happy for them. She wanted to enjoy the peace, however long it lasted.

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked Sano and Hirata. "Are you hungry?"

"I forgot to eat, I was so busy," Sano confessed.

"Same here," Hirata said.

"Oh, you men," Midori chided. "If it weren't for us, you'd starve to death."

Reiko ordered the servants to bring food. She made hot tea on the charcoal brazier and served cups to Sano and Hirata.

"Any luck today?" Sano asked Hirata.

Midori glanced at Reiko. Both women knew that talk about serious subjects was coming, and they didn't want the children to hear. "It's time for us to go," Midori said.

Her children groaned and protested. Hirata said, "I'll be home soon and tuck you into bed."

"Come along," Midori said, and departed with her family.

The nurse led Akiko away. Masahiro picked up his things and followed without argument. Reiko was surprised. He'd been so interested in the investigation that she'd expected him to beg her and Sano to allow him to stay and hear about it. She hoped he was outgrowing his penchant for detective work.

"Don't keep me in suspense," she said to Sano and Hirata. "What happened?"

"I went to see Jirocho," said Hirata.

"The gangster?" Reiko had heard about him from her father, Magistrate Ueda, in whose court Jirocho had appeared more than once. "How is he involved in the kidnapping?"

"There were two other women kidnapped before Chiyo," Hirata explained. "One is Jirocho's daughter."

"Is her case related to Chiyo's?" Sano asked.

"I don't know. Jirocho wasn't very cooperative. He wouldn't tell me anything." Hirata described his conversation with the gangster boss. "He wants to handle the case himself."

Concern showed on Sano's face. "So does Major Kumazawa. I talked to him today. He's not happy with my investigating two other crimes that we don't know for sure are related."

Reiko was offended that Sano's uncle would criticize Sano's work. To ask a favor after all these years of family estrangement, then object to how it was carried out! But Reiko kept silent. She didn't want to fan the fire that was obviously heating up between Major Kumazawa and her husband.

"Did you have any better luck with Fumiko?" Sano asked.

"Even worse." Hirata reported that her father had thrown the girl out and she was living in the marketplace.

"That's awful!" Reiko exclaimed. All day she'd felt bad for Chiyo. Now she deplored that a young girl's life had been destroyed. Which was crueler, the rapist or society?

"When I tried to talk to her, she tried to stab me, and then ran away." Hirata sounded rueful. "But I did turn up a witness-the man who found her by Shinobazu Pond. He heard an oxcart."

Sano nodded, gratified. "Maybe it was the same one that transported Chiyo."

"Speaking of oxcarts," Detective Marume said as he strode into the room with Fukida, "we went to the stables. The man in charge says there weren't any oxcarts assigned to work in Asakusa on the day we found Chiyo there-or on the day she was kidnapped."

"Whoever drove that oxcart, he wasn't there on legitimate business," Fukida said.

"We spent the rest of the day trying to track down drivers who hadn't been where they were supposed to be," Marume said. "But-" He turned up his empty palms.

"Maybe we can narrow down the search," Sano said. "Hirata-san, did you get a description of the driver who was seen near Shinobazu Pond?"

"No. The witness didn't see him. But he said it could be someone who'd been working in the vicinity-a fellow about twenty-five years old, with two teeth missing."

Sano frowned as he drank tea and pondered.

"But that's good news, isn't it?" Reiko said. "Now you have an idea of whom to look for."

"The problem is, I got a description of a suspect, too," Sano said, "and mine doesn't match Hirata-san's." He told of his trip to Zj Temple district. Reiko was aghast to learn that the third victim had been an elderly nun. "My suspect is a big, muscular man in his thirties, with a shaved head, an unshaven face, and a scab on his cheekbone. The novice who saw him outside the convent didn't mention any missing teeth."

"We could have two or three different criminals," Hirata agreed. "What did the nun say?"

"Nothing, unfortunately." Sano explained that she was apparently so distraught that all she did was pray.

At least Chiyo still had her wits, Reiko thought. But that was a mixed blessing. Chiyo couldn't escape her misery by withdrawing into religion.

Sano asked Reiko, "Did you learn anything from Chiyo?"

Reiko felt his hope. "I'm sorry I have so little to report." She told them about the man at the shrine who'd called to Chiyo for help. "But Chiyo doesn't remember actually seeing the man. She does remember what he did to her." Reiko described the bites on Chiyo's breasts, how the man had suckled on her and called her "dearest mother, beloved mother," and the threats he'd made against Chiyo and her baby.

Sano shook his head in horror and disbelief. "Chiyo didn't see him while all that was happening?"

"No. I think he wore a mask." Reiko explained about the demonic face and the clouds Chiyo had seen, or imagined.

"It sounds like she was drugged," Sano said.

"That's what I thought," Reiko said.

"When the mind is disturbed, it can play tricks on itself, with or without drugs," Hirata suggested.

"By the way, Chiyo is still at her father's house. Her husband has cast her off," Reiko explained.

Sano looked disturbed but not surprised. "As if she hasn't suffered enough already." Setting down his tea bowl, he added, "We've covered a lot of ground, but we only have an oxcart that might or might not be involved, and descriptions of two suspects who might or might not be the culprits in any of the kidnappings."

"I started a search for mine," Hirata said.

"So did I," Sano said. "I sent my whole army out on the street to post notices and circulate my suspect's description."

"I hope it works." But Reiko knew how many men among Edo's million people probably fit those descriptions. Personal regret weighed upon her. "I wish there were something more I could do."

"There is," Sano said. "Talk to Chiyo again. Maybe she'll remember something else. And I want you to interview Fumiko and the nun. Maybe you can get more information from them than Hirata and I did."

17

For a brief moment when the sun ascended over the hills outside Edo, the rooftops of the city gleamed bright as gold. Then clouds rolled down from the hills, chasing and overtaking the rays of the sun. Edo was cloaked in a silvery mist.

Inside Sano's estate, Sano and Masahiro knelt opposite one another, some ten paces apart, in a shadowed courtyard. Each wore white martial arts practice clothes, his hand on the long sword at his waist. They sat perfectly still, their expressions serene yet alert.

Sano drew his sword. In one fluid motion, he whipped his blade out of its scabbard, leaped to his feet, and lunged. Masahiro followed suit. They slashed at each other; they parried and whirled, attacked, and counterattacked. Their wooden blades never touched, never made contact with their bodies. At last they retreated, sheathed their swords, and bowed.

"Your form is improving," Sano said, "but you were slower than usual."

Masahiro hung his head. "I'm sorry, Father."

Sano disliked criticizing his son. That was why he'd hired a tutor to teach Masahiro. He remembered his own childhood, when his father had taught him swordsmanship, and how much his father's constant, merciless tongue-lashings had hurt. He and Masahiro enjoyed practicing together; it was their special time to share during his busy day. But Sano couldn't ignore his son's faults.

Uncorrected, they might be the death of Masahiro someday. His own father's stern discipline was the reason Sano had fought and lived to fight again.

"You weren't paying attention," Sano said. "If this had been real combat, you'd be dead."

"Yes, Father, I know," Masahiro said, chastened.

Sano was concerned because Masahiro usually took martial arts practice very seriously. He knew better than other children how crucial good fighting skills were.

"What's the matter?" Sano said.

"Nothing," Masahiro said, with a haste that aroused Sano's suspicions.

"Is something on your mind?"

Masahiro fidgeted with the hilt of his sword. "No."

The gate opened, and Detectives Fukida and Marume appeared. "Please excuse the interruption, but there's good news," Fukida said.

"Can I go now, Father?" Masahiro said.

Sano studied his son's eager, nervous face. Masahiro was normally enthusiastic about their sessions and reluctant for them to end. His behavior today puzzled Sano.

But Sano said, "All right," and didn't press for an explanation. His own father had made him practice for long hours every single day. He'd often wished for time off to play with other children, wander the city and see the sights, or simply do nothing.

Masahiro hurried off. Sano said to the detectives, "What is it?"

"We just went back to the oxcart stables," Fukida said. "We asked the boss if any drivers fit your description of the man from the convent. He knew of one."

Hopeful excitement rose in Sano. "Good work. Where is he? Have you arrested him?"

"Not yet," Fukida said.

"He's working right near our doorstep," Marume said. "We thought you'd like to be in on the action."

Before Reiko left home, she stopped at the kitchen, where an army of cooks prepared food for the hundreds of people who lived in Sano's estate. Cooks slung vegetables and fish, grilled, stewed, and fried amid a din of cleavers chopping, pans rattling, and hearths roaring. Powerful aromas of garlic and hot oil permeated the steam from boiling pots.

Reiko packed fried dumplings stuffed with shrimp, grilled eel, raw tuna strips fastened to rice balls with seaweed, noodles with vegetables, and cakes filled with sweet chestnut paste into a lacquered wooden, compartmented lunchbox. She filled a jar with water, then carried the feast to her palanquin. She climbed inside and said to the bearers, "Take me to Zj Temple district."

After hastily changing his martial arts clothes for his regular garments, Sano donned his swords, mounted his horse, and left his estate with his detectives. They stopped to fetch Hirata on their way out of the castle. Marume and Fukida led the way through the northwestern gate. They brought their horses to a stop on the avenue that circled the castle. The avenue separated Edo Castle from the daimyo district, where the feudal lords and their thousands of retainers lived in vast compounds. Traffic that consisted mainly of samurai on horse back avoided the roadside by the castle, where piles of rocks, scrap lumber, and dirt overflowed into the street. Sano looked up at the construction site.

It was a dilapidated guard turret atop the wall, partially demolished, its upper story gone. Laborers hacked at the remains with pickaxes. They dropped the debris onto the pile on the roadside below, where two pairs of oxen, each yoked to a cart, stood patiently, tails swishing off flies. The two drivers-men dressed in short indigo kimonos and frayed sandals-loaded the debris on their carts.

One man was big, muscular, in his thirties. He wore his hair shorn down to a black fuzz on his scalp. His face sported several days' growth of whiskers. As Sano rode closer, he saw the large, pale scar on the man's right cheekbone.

"It looks like the man that the novice at the convent saw," Sano said.

The man spoke to his fellow driver, who grinned.

Hirata, riding beside Sano, said, "Look at the other fellow. He's younger and has two teeth missing from the right side of his mouth. That's my suspect."

"That's why a different man was at the scenes of two different kidnappings," Sano said. "We haven't got two separate criminals. They're a team."

"What a piece of good luck, finding them together," Marume said as he followed with Fukida.

When Sano and his men approached the oxcarts, the drivers spied them. The humor on their faces turned to caution, then the fear of guilty men cornered by the law. They dropped the timbers they'd lifted. They both jumped in one oxcart, and the big man snatched up a whip.

"Go!" he shouted, flailing the oxen.

The oxen clopped down the avenue, dragging the cart filled with debris. Workers on the turret yelled, "Hey! We're not done. Wait!" Sano and his men surged forward in pursuit. The driver with the missing teeth shouted, "Faster! Faster!"

But the heavy cart was no match for horsemen. Sano's party quickly caught up with it. The drivers jumped off the cart and ran.

"Don't let them get away!" Sano shouted as the drivers fled through the crowd and people swerved to avoid them.

Hirata leaped from his horse, flew through the air, landed on the younger man's back, and quickly subdued him. Marume and Fukida rode down the other man. When they caught him, he punched, kicked, and thrashed. By the time they'd wrestled him to the ground, they were panting and sweating.

From astride his horse, Sano surveyed his captives. "You're under arrest," he said.

"Didn't do anything wrong," the big man protested, his scarred cheek pressed into the mud.

"Neither did I," said his friend, pinned under Hirata.

"Then why did you run?" Sano asked.

That question stumped them into silence.

"Well, well," Marume said, "our new friends don't seem to have a good excuse."

Reiko rode in her palanquin, accompanied by Lieutenant Tanuma and her other guards, along the misty streets of the city. Peasants on their way to work avoided soldiers on patrol. Peddlers selling water, tea, baskets, and other merchandise hawked their wares. Neighborhood gates slowed the crush of traffic. Shopkeepers arranged their goods on the roadside to catch customers' eyes. At the approach to Zj district, pilgrims streamed toward the temple, while priests, monks, and nuns headed out to the city to beg. Reiko found the marketplace already crowded, with the children out in full force.

They'd emerged from the alleys where they slept at night. Ravenous, they begged at the food-stalls. Reiko was sad for the ragged, dirty boys and girls. She wished she could adopt them all. In fact, she had once adopted an orphan, the son of a woman who'd been murdered, but it hadn't been entirely successful. The boy's nature had been so affected by painful experiences that he'd not warmed to Reiko, despite her attempts to give him a good home. He shunned people, preferring to work in the stables with the horses. He would be an excellent groom someday, able to earn his living, if not overcome his past. Now Reiko watched for a twelve-year-old girl in a green and white kimono. Maybe today she could help another child in trouble.

Dogs barked. Reiko put her head out the window and saw, up the road, a pack of big, mangy black and brown hounds. They growled and lunged at something in their midst.

Feral dogs were plentiful in Edo. They came from the daimyo estates, where in the past they'd been bred for hunting. But the shogun, a devout Buddhist, had enacted laws that protected animals, forbade hunting, and prohibited killing or hurting dogs. He'd been born in the Year of the Dog, and he believed that if he protected dogs, the gods would grant him an heir. The result was that dogs proliferated unchecked. The daimyo still kept them as watchdogs, and when too many litters were born, they couldn't drown the puppies because the penalty for killing a dog was death. Samurai could no longer use dogs to test a sword. Unwanted dogs were simply turned out to fend for themselves. They roved in packs, foraging and competing for food. They befouled the city and posed a danger to all, and too often their victims were the helpless children.