The Incense Game

41

Pale sunlight filled the reception room in the guesthouse. The shogun sat on the dais, Masahiro behind him. Sano knelt on the shogun’s left, Ienobu on his right. Sliding doors to the veranda stood open. Two days after Sano’s investigation ended, the weather had turned unseasonably warm. Trees in the garden bristled with buds. Below the dais, the Council of Elders sat along one wall; along the opposite wall were General Isogai and his top army officials. Lord Hosokawa and three other daimyo knelt before the dais and bowed to the shogun.

“Your Excellency, please allow us to present you with a small gift,” Lord Hosokawa said.

Servants carried in fifty black lacquer chests and stacked them against the back wall. They staggered under the weight of the gold coins in the chests. Sano wondered if the floor would hold it. Everyone except the shogun looked impressed by such a huge sum of cash.

“This is our contribution to repairing the damage caused by the earthquake, and a token of our loyalty to you,” Lord Hosokawa said with solemn reverence.

Sano could tell that the other daimyo weren’t pleased about bowing down to the shogun and handing over their wealth. That must have been some scene when Lord Hosokawa told them he wouldn’t join their rebellion and they must help him supply the funds to shore up the Tokugawa regime.

“A million thanks.” The shogun spoke casually, taking the tribute for granted. “You have, ahh, done a great service to me. Much better than some people.” He shot an unfriendly glance at Sano, for being absent too often, for not catering to him enough.

Ienobu scowled at Masahiro. The elders exchanged glances of relief: They knew that paying this tribute had depleted the daimyos’ coffers so much that they couldn’t afford an insurrection. Sano sensed the elders wondering why the daimyo had suddenly fallen into line. General Isogai scratched his bald head. Neither they nor the shogun knew what Sano had done to earn the money the daimyo had donated and avert a civil war. Sano and Reiko didn’t intend to tell, and only Sano and Lord Hosokawa had been present at the scene that decided the outcome of the events set in motion by a fatal incense game.

The morning after the debacle in the theater district, Sano returned to Lord Hosokawa’s estate with an oxcart whose cargo was covered with a blanket. When Lord Hosokawa met him at the gate, his troops and driver waited down the street while he said, “Would you like to see who killed your daughters?” Sano dismounted and threw back the blanket. Underneath were the dead bodies of Minister and Lady Ogyu.

“There were two murderers?” Lord Hosokawa said, gazing at them with surprise and concern. “Isn’t that the administrator of the Confucian academy?”

“Yes.”

“Who is the woman?”

“His wife.”

“You killed them?”

Sano nodded, accepting responsibility for both deaths.

“I can see what happened to Minister Ogyu.” Lord Hosokawa contemplated the separation between Ogyu’s bloody neck and body, then turned to Lady Ogyu. Her homely face was pale, distorted. “But what about his wife?”

“She swallowed some of the poison that she and Minister Ogyu used to kill your daughters and Madam Usugumo,” Sano said.

That morning Sano had returned to the academy to find Lady Ogyu dead with her children clinging to her body. I didn’t know she was going to do it! his distraught guard had cried. Lady Ogyu must have had a premonition that her husband wouldn’t survive the night. She’d decided to die before she could be forced to reveal his secret to anyone else.

“But why did they poison my daughters?” Lord Hosokawa exclaimed.

“They didn’t mean to,” Sano said. “Madam Usugumo was their intended victim. She was blackmailing Minister Ogyu. I wasn’t able to find out what dirt she had on him.” Sano couldn’t reveal the secret. Having examined Ogyu’s body and confirmed that it was female, he was taking the bodies to Z o j o Temple for immediate, private cremation. If Ogyu’s deception became known, the shogun would lose face and his government would become an object of ridicule. That could weaken it enough that the daimyo might be tempted to revive their plan to overthrow it. “But Minister and Lady Ogyu did confess to the murders.” Sano couldn’t let Lord Hosokawa know that the Ogyus had made unwitting tools of his daughters. That would only cause the man more pain.

Lord Hosokawa contemplated the bodies. “I should feel triumph, or at least satisfaction, knowing my daughters have been avenged.” He lifted a bewildered gaze to Sano. “But I don’t feel any better. How can that be?”

“Revenge brings justice,” Sano said, “but it can’t bring back the dead.”

Lord Hosokawa nodded in sad resignation. “Still, I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I will keep my part of our bargain.”

Now Lord Hosokawa and the other daimyo bowed to the shogun and the assembly. As they somberly filed out of the room, Lord Hosokawa met Sano’s gaze. His expression said their business was finished. But Sano knew better. He couldn’t trust Lord Hosokawa or let him get away with his extortion. He would have to do something about Lord Hosokawa sooner or later.

“Well, ahh.” The shogun brushed his hands together, as if dispensing with a trivial affair. “Now I have a surprise for all of you.” His eyes twinkled with mischief; he clapped his hands.

Into the room strode Yanagisawa and a young samurai. Yanagisawa surveyed the company with as much aplomb as if he’d never left it. The handsome young samurai, with his athletic build, wide face, and tilted eyes, looked vaguely familiar to Sano. A woman dressed in deep red followed the two men. She was some forty years old, still attractive. She and the young samurai carried themselves with dignity and caution. The trio mounted the dais. Yanagisawa knelt nonchalantly beside Sano. The woman knelt near them. The shogun drew the young samurai down to kneel at his right side.

“It is my pleasure to introduce my son.” The shogun smiled fondly at the young samurai. “My flesh-and-blood son and heir, that I always wanted.”

The assembly gasped in shock. Sano felt a wave of vertigo that wasn’t from his head injury. He’d not had any dizziness, nausea, or much pain today. Elders and army officers whispered furiously among themselves. The shogun preened. Ienobu looked horrified by the youth seated between him and the shogun. In an instant he’d lost his position as heir apparent. Yanagisawa gloated.

“My son’s name is Yoshisato,” the shogun said.

Yoshisato kept his head high and his expression serene while the assembly stared at him. He had considerable poise for someone so young. His name reminded Sano of who he was.

“Forgive me, Your Excellency,” Sano said, “but there must be some mistake. Yoshisato isn’t your son. He’s Yanagisawa’s.”

The other men murmured, disbelieving and amazed. Yanagisawa was passing his son off as the shogun’s! He had plopped Yoshisato into first place in line for the succession, to guarantee that he would be the power behind the next dictator.

The shogun regarded Sano with condescension. “Yoshisato has been raised as Yanagisawa’s son, but it was a, ahh, subterfuge.” He looked to Yanagisawa.

Yanagisawa smiled at the stir that he and his son had created. He indicated the woman, who sat rigidly. “This is Lady Someko. She was once His Excellency’s concubine. Eighteen years ago, she conceived a child. But she didn’t tell His Excellency, because it would have put him in grave peril. The court astronomer had predicted that a son would be born to His Excellency, but the stars said that unless the son was hidden away right after his birth, His Excellency would be killed by an earthquake that would strike Edo in eighteen years.”

Sano leaned forward as astonishment caved in his chest.

“The astronomer brought me the prediction,” Yanagisawa continued. “I gave orders that any pregnancies in the palace women’s quarters were to be reported to me and no one else. When Lady Someko found herself with child, I took her into my home, and when her son was born, I gave him my name. We kept Yoshisato’s real parentage a secret, even from him, for seventeen years. But now the earthquake has come and gone. The danger to His Excellency has passed. Now the truth can be told.”

Never in his life had Sano heard such utter tripe!

Yanagisawa swept a grand gesture toward the young samurai. “Behold Tokugawa Yoshisato, His Excellency’s one true son and heir.”

The shogun stroked Yoshisato’s arm. “The gods have granted my dearest wish at last!”

The elders and General Isogai looked as outraged as Sano was. Even Kato, Yanagisawa’s crony, shook his head. Ienobu looked ready to explode. “But, Honorable Uncle,” he began.

“But what?” The shogun fixed Ienobu with such a baleful stare that Ienobu subsided. The other men didn’t dare object, even though they suspected Yanagisawa was Yoshisato’s real father. The shogun accepted Yoshisato as his son. That was that.

When Sano left the guesthouse, Yanagisawa caught up with him and said, “What do you think of the shogun’s new son?”

“He’s astonishing,” Sano said, “but not nearly as much so as his father.”

Yanagisawa chuckled; he knew Sano wasn’t talking about the shogun. His humor turned to menace. “My adopted son will inherit the dictatorship, which will make me as good as the father of the next shogun. But I won’t wait that long to deal with you.” His eyes blazed through tears. Today’s coup hadn’t assuaged his grief for Yoritomo or his rage at Sano. “Your days are numbered.” He looked past Sano. “And so are your son’s.”

Sano turned and saw Masahiro in the garden with Ienobu. Ienobu was jabbing his finger at Masahiro, scolding him in a loud, raspy whisper. Yanagisawa strode back into the guesthouse. Before Sano could join Masahiro and Ienobu and find out what was going on, he saw Priest Ryuko and the shogun’s mother walking toward him.

“Chamberlain Sano!” Lady Keisho-in was all dimples. “Have you met my new grandson? Isn’t he wonderful?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Sano said, bowing.

“I’m so excited. All these years I’ve prayed for a grandson, and this is a dream come true!” She turned to Priest Ryuko. “My dearest love, you can be his step-grandfather.”

Priest Ryuko smiled down at her, nodded, and said, “Suppose you go inside and give Yoshisato my regards while I speak to Chamberlain Sano.” After Lady Keisho-in left, he said, “My sources tell me that you discovered it was Minister Ogyu and his wife who poisoned those women, and they’re both dead.”

“Your sources are well informed,” Sano said.

Ryuko spoke in a lowered voice. “Regarding what you discovered about me-don’t try to use it against me. I’ve told Lady Keisho-in that there’s a rumor that I fathered a child on another woman. I’ve assured her that the rumor is false, and she believes me.” He added, “You just saw how high in her favor I am. And she’s high in His Excellency’s. All is well within the upper stratus of the Tokugawa court.”

“What about the astronomer’s proclamation that the cosmos is displeased with an important person in his regime who’s to blame for the earthquake?” Sano asked.

Ryuko waved his hand, as if brushing away a fly. “That’s old news. All the shogun cares about is the astronomer’s latest proclamation, the one about Yoshisato.”

Yanagisawa must have bribed the court astronomer to back his hoax, Sano thought.

“Lady Keisho-in is safe, and so am I.” Ryuko added with a sly smile, “Probably safer than you, Chamberlain Sano.”

Yanagisawa met Yoshisato inside the guesthouse. “We need to talk,” Yanagisawa said, glancing up and down the corridor to make sure no one was listening.

“I don’t think so.” Yoshisato tried to brush past Yanagisawa.

Yanagisawa caught his son’s arm. “I have to coach you on how to prevent the shogun from being manipulated by our enemies.”

“You’ve already drummed that into my head,” Yoshisato retorted. “How could I forget? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What’s the matter?” Yanagisawa asked, surprised by his son’s anger.

“Nothing. Your scheme worked. You’ve positioned me to rule Japan after the shogun dies. Everything is fine.”

“I also saved your life,” Yanagisawa reminded him. “Now that the shogun has accepted you as his son, the order for you to be convicted of treason has been canceled. Ienobu can’t touch you. You should be grateful.”

“Oh, I’m grateful.” Yoshisato said the last word as if it tasted bad. “Grateful to you for disowning me, for foisting me off on the shogun. Grateful because you don’t have to pretend to be my father.”

Astonishment struck Yanagisawa. He’d never dreamed that Yoshisato would mind. “But it was necessary.” Now he saw that Yoshisato hated him for denying their kinship. “We agreed.”

“Not that I had much choice.”

“You should be happy about the way things worked out,” Yanagisawa said. “You’ll get to be the next shogun without sleeping with the current one.” The shogun drew the line at sex with the fruit of his own loins.

“Oh, yes, I’m happy.” Yoshisato gave a bitter laugh. “Because now that I’m the shogun’s son, I don’t need you anymore.” He smiled.

For the first time Yanagisawa saw himself in Yoshisato. It chilled him to the core.

Sano spent the rest of the day organizing the relief mission for the provinces. By evening, the team members had been designated and provisioned, the carts and oxen assembled. The mission would leave at dawn tomorrow, accompanied by troops to guard the cash contributed by the daimyo. For the first time since the earthquake, Sano felt as if he’d actually accomplished something, even though so much remained to be done.

When he got home, he found Reiko propped up in bed. She was watching Akiko play with her dolls. Sano smiled at the cozy scene and greeted his family. A maid brought them a dinner of rice, soup made from dried bonito and seaweed, and pickled radish.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Sano asked Reiko as he wolfed down the food.

She sipped a cup of mint tea. “No, I feel sick to my stomach. But that’s a good sign that I’m not going to lose the baby. The doctor says it should be fine.”

Sano was glad but still a little angry with her. “You should have told me about the baby before I let you help me with the investigation.”

“But if I had told you, then you wouldn’t have let me help. We might be in the middle of a civil war now.”

“I can’t argue with that.” Sano never could argue with his wife when she was right. Things had worked out better than he’d expected, although he regretted the deaths of Minister Ogyu’s nurse and Madam Usugumo’s apprentice, which Reiko had told him about. If he hadn’t told Ogyu where Korin was, Ogyu couldn’t have taken Korin out of jail and brought him to the theater where he’d died. Then again, if Ogyu hadn’t, perhaps he’d have killed Reiko at the nurse’s house and Sano couldn’t have saved her. The events of that night were far from simple or clean. Sano knew that Reiko mourned for her guards, especially Lieutenant Tanuma, whose dying words had saved her life. Sano also pitied the Ogyu children, now orphans, adopted by relatives. Their parents’ deaths would surely haunt them all their lives.

Akiko stacked wooden blocks, building a house. She put her dolls inside, shouted, “Boom!” then knocked down the blocks. She clapped her hands and laughed.

“I wish she wouldn’t keep doing that,” Reiko said.

“Maybe it comforts her to make a game of it.” Sano hoped the bombing wouldn’t have any permanent ill effects on Akiko. Some scars were invisible. As Reiko sipped her tea, he told her about the shogun’s dramatic announcement. She sputtered tea and choked.

“The shogun has a new heir, and it’s Yanagisawa’s son, but he thinks Yoshisato is his!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe it!”

“Neither could I, but in retrospect, passing his son off as the shogun’s seems just like Yanagisawa. This could be the biggest political upheaval of the shogun’s reign.”

“It’s disgusting how Yanagisawa took advantage of the earthquake.”

Sano thought back over the past month. “He’s not the only person who has, or has tried to. There’s Ienobu, who ingratiated himself with the shogun while the shogun’s usual companions were either too busy or dead. There’s Lord Hosokawa, who used the regime’s financial problems to blackmail me into investigating the murders, and the daimyo who wanted to overthrow the Tokugawa regime while it was vulnerable. There’s Korin, who cheated earthquake victims, not to mention the scores of merchants who are making fortunes off them. Don’t forget the people who tried to get rid of Lady Keisho-in and the shogun by blaming them for the earthquake. And then there’s Masahiro and his promotion.”

“Masahiro deserved that promotion,” Reiko protested, loath to include him in such dubious company. “He’s very capable, even though he’s only twelve.”

“But there’s no denying that he benefited from the disaster,” Sano said. “There’s no denying that the disaster has created opportunity.”

“That’s a different point of view.” Reiko didn’t sound convinced.

“Look around, and you’ll see other examples of opportunity arising from disaster. I’m chamberlain because Yanagisawa’s son Yoritomo died. Going further back, I got into the Tokugawa regime fourteen years ago because someone tried to assassinate the shogun and I saved his life.”

Reiko warmed to Sano’s theory. “Hirata is the top fighter in Edo because he was crippled and he studied the mystic martial arts.” Suddenly stricken by revelation, she said in a hushed voice, “I’m who I am because my mother died giving birth to me.”

“Does everything good have origins in something bad?” Sano mused. “Perhaps. One thing I’m sure of is that when it comes to taking advantage of the earthquake, Yanagisawa has everyone else beaten.”

Apprehension clouded Reiko’s eyes. “What does his coup mean for you?”

“Yanagisawa has gained a big advantage over me. If that were all, I’d predict that the two of us would continue our feud as always, with one’s fortunes rising when the other’s falls. But Yoshisato changes the equation. He’s an unknown quantity.”

“Does this mean Ienobu is out of the picture?” Reiko said.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Sano said. “He has allies who are enemies of Yanagisawa and won’t want Yoshisato inheriting the dictatorship. And Ienobu isn’t the kind of man to accept defeat without a fight.”

Masahiro came into the room, greeted his parents, and said, “Is there any food left?”

“Yes. You’re in luck,” Reiko said.

Sano remembered something. “What did Ienobu say to you this morning?”

Masahiro ducked his head over his rice bowl. “He said I was overstepping my station. He told me to stop giving advice to the shogun, or he would make me sorry.”

“What kind of advice?” Reiko said, sounding as puzzled as Sano was.

“Just some things you and Father taught me.”

“How did Ienobu know you were advising the shogun?” Sano said.

“He heard us,” Masahiro said.

“Didn’t I tell you to be careful?”

“I try to be. But the shogun was upset, and he asked me what to do. I had to say something. And it was during his exercise in the garden. I’d never seen Ienobu there. He doesn’t like the cold. But he was there that day.”

“What an unfortunate coincidence,” Reiko said sympathetically.

But Sano’s instincts tingled in warning. “Somehow I don’t think it was a coincidence. Why did Ienobu choose that particular time to brave the cold in the garden?”

“Maybe Hirata- san knows,” Masahiro said. “He was there, too. I saw him.”

A bad feeling rippled through Sano as he thought of the house that had mysteriously risen from the chasm. He wondered if Hirata’s presence at the scene wasn’t a coincidence either. “Yoshisato isn’t the only unknown quantity. There’s something else going on.”

That night Hirata climbed the hills to the clearing in the forest. There he found a ritual in progress. Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi stood chanting inside the circle of flaming oil lamps, their hands touching, around the altar. They didn’t notice Hirata watching nearby. A figure hovered in the gold-flecked purple smoke from the incense burner. It was the giant warrior in the horned helmet and the old-fashioned armor, his face hidden by his helmet’s visor. Fiery veins of light connected him to the men. Hirata was surprised that he could see the ghost even though he hadn’t drunk the potion or breathed the smoke. Perhaps after seeing it once, he didn’t need to be in a trance to see it again. Its terrifying power boomed and pulsed. He resisted the urge to run.

“Why are you troubled, my lord?” Tahara asked the ghost. “Ienobu has witnessed Masahiro’s influence on the shogun. He can counteract it. Everything went just as we planned.”

Fury beset Hirata. The secret society had known all along, and not deigned to tell him, that his action would put Masahiro in jeopardy!

The ghost spoke in its alien language that Hirata could now understand. “The boy is a minor threat compared to the bastard who purports to be the shogun’s son.” Hirata frowned, confused. Something must have happened while he’d been away from court. “The bastard must be eliminated. Nothing must stand in the way of Ienobu’s becoming the next shogun.”

“How will Ienobu’s becoming the shogun destroy the Tokugawa regime?” Kitano asked.

“Ienobu and his allies are plotting changes in the regime,” the ghost replied. “Within a generation the Tokugawa will crumble under pressure from inside and outside. And I will have my revenge for my defeat at Sekigahara.”

Hirata burst into the circle of light. Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi started. They turned toward him, their hands still touching. “What are you doing here?” Tahara said without his usual humor.

“Joining the ritual,” Hirata said. “Why didn’t you invite me?”

“We never told you that you would be part of every ritual.” Kitano’s eyes were cold.

“There’s a lot you never told me,” Hirata retorted. “Such as, that the spirit was an enemy of the Tokugawa. Or that its idea of ‘destiny’ is to destroy the regime that I serve!”

“If we’d told you, you wouldn’t have joined us,” Tahara pointed out. Deguchi nodded.

Their callousness fueled Hirata’s rage. “I was a fool to trust you, or it.” He flung out his hand toward the ghost, whose image wavered because he’d interrupted the three men’s concentration. “But I won’t trust you anymore. Because I’ve uncovered your lies.

“Ozuno wouldn’t give you his magic spell book, so you tried to steal it. He fought you. That’s how your face got cut up.” Hirata glared at Kitano, then Deguchi. “That’s why you’re mute.” He said to Tahara, “You didn’t inherit the book. You stole it from Ozuno on your second try, after you killed him. When you lured me into your secret society, you made me a party to our teacher’s murder!”

The men’s dismayed faces were taut and perspiring with their effort to maintain their trance. The veins of light dimmed. The ghost’s image faded.

“Then you forced me to endanger my master’s son.” Hirata was so angry that he could hardly speak. “All the while you were intentionally involving me in treason against the Tokugawa regime!”

“So the detective has found us out,” Tahara said. “Congratulations.”

Infuriated by his sarcasm, Hirata said, “Did you ever stop to wonder if I’m not the only one who’s been deceived? What did the spirit promise you in exchange for meddling with politics? Mystical powers such as have never been seen? A chance to train and lead a legion of superhuman martial artists that will rule the world someday?” It was a wild guess, but the men’s cagy expressions told Hirata it was correct. “How do you know that the spirit won’t dump you after he’s given you nothing more than a few magic tricks? Maybe you’ll have sold your honor for nothing but a selfish, petty man’s revenge on his dead enemy.”

For the first time Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi looked worried. The ghost’s image shrank as their energy faded. “We’re going through with it.” Tahara sounded as though his fear of betrayal had only solidified his conviction. He looked to Kitano and Deguchi, who nodded. The ghost’s image enlarged, grew clearer. “And so are you. Or Sano will die.”

“No,” Hirata said. “I’m ending this now.” He drew his sword despite the fact that he was outnumbered by these men whose individual skills exceeded his own.

Alarm, then aggression, flared in their eyes. They must defend themselves, even if they didn’t want to fight Hirata, because someone was bound to be killed, which would ruin their plans. But they didn’t reach for their swords. Their outstretched hands seemed stuck together as if by magnets on their fingertips. Their jaws clenched with their effort to break free.

Sword raised, Hirata lunged at them. The veins of light crackled. He stalled in midair. The ghostly warrior glowed bright, brighter, orange-hot, then white, leaching energy out of Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano. Blinded, Hirata had the sensation he’d experienced during his trance, of being sucked up toward the sky, then falling, accelerating, and cartwheeling. He thought, The ghost prevented a battle because it needs us all alive.

Consciousness briefly fled him, then returned. Hirata found himself lying on cold ground by the altar, in the gray dawn. Tahara, Kitano, Deguchi, and the ghost were gone. All that remained was Hirata’s conviction that he must make a clean breast to Sano, shut down the secret society, and consign the ghost to the netherworld from which it came.

If only he knew how.