The Iris Fan

28

When Sano returned to the guest quarters, he found Magistrate Ueda sitting alone by a brazier with a sake decanter warming on it and two cups on a tray table.

“I thought you might need a drink,” Magistrate Ueda said.

Sano realized how much he did. “A thousand thanks.” He knelt while Magistrate Ueda poured two cups. He emptied his cup, and the liquor spread a fire through him that simultaneously calmed and invigorated. “Where’s Masahiro?”

“I thought he was at the gate, waiting for you.”

“I didn’t see him there.”

Magistrate Ueda looked grave. “Maybe he needed some time alone. He’s very unhappy about the wedding.”

“I know.” Sano’s spirit sagged under the weight of his betrayal of Masahiro, no matter that he was within his rights to force his son to do whatever he asked. “Where is Reiko?”

The concern in Magistrate Ueda’s expression deepened. “She went out with Akiko. They didn’t say where they were going.”

Sano felt a stab of fear. Reiko was as unhappy about the wedding as Masahiro. She’d been unhappy with Sano for a long time. She’d said she would leave him. Had she really gone and taken their children with her? Had his actions finally driven his family away?

One of Lord Mori’s guards brought in Reiko and Akiko. Their faces were rosy from the cold. “Your wife and daughter took Lord Mori’s dog for a walk.” Annoyed by the whims of females, he said, “You’d better keep them in from now on,” and left.

Sano’s fear turned to anger at Reiko, then surprise as he noticed how animated, young, and bright-eyed she looked. He hadn’t seen her look like that in years. Her beauty was stunning. “You went outside and you took Akiko? Don’t you know it’s dangerous out there?”

Akiko ran off to avoid an argument between her parents. The flush on Reiko’s face darkened: She was still furious at Sano, and the nature of her fury had changed. No longer frantic, helpless, and wild, it was like fire blasting in a kiln. She said to her father, “Tell my husband that it’s not any safer in here than it is outside.”

Unhappily caught in the middle of the war between his daughter and son-in-law, Magistrate Ueda repeated Reiko’s words. Sano, upset because Reiko wouldn’t speak directly to him, afraid that the next time she left it would be permanent, said, “Never mind. She’s right.”

“Ask him what happened with Lord Ienobu,” Reiko said, unappeased.

Magistrate Ueda asked. “He tried to bribe Yanagisawa and Yoshisato into backing down,” Sano said. “It didn’t work. They exchanged threats and insults. I tried to negotiate a truce, but I was unsuccessful.”

Reiko and Magistrate Ueda looked disappointed but resigned. “So there will be a war?” Reiko said, not looking at Sano.

“Yes.”

“Starting when?” Magistrate Ueda asked. “Who’s going to make the first move?”

“It’s anybody’s guess.” Sano went along with the pretense of communicating through Magistrate Ueda. “My wife didn’t really go out to walk a dog. Ask her what she was doing.”

Reiko described how the dog had attacked her and Akiko had saved her. “It gave me an idea.” She explained that the dog had tracked the scent of the shogun’s blood to an ash heap in Nihonbashi. “He found the bloodstained socks.”

Sano didn’t know whether to be more impressed with Akiko’s talents or Reiko’s ingenuity. He was surprised that the socks had somehow made their way out of the castle. “Ueda-san, ask your daughter to let me see them. And ask her why she looks so upset.”

“Because my honorable husband isn’t going to like this part.” Reiko took the wadded, dirty socks from under her sash and handed them to Magistrate Ueda; he handed them to Sano. “Look inside the ankles.”

Sano saw tiny characters embroidered in pale gray thread: Tomoe. He crumpled the socks in his fist.

“I take it that they incriminate someone other than Lord Ienobu?” Magistrate Ueda said.

“Yes. Lord Yoshimune’s cousin, the concubine.”

They all sat in glum silence, wishing the evidence proved that Lord Ienobu had conspired to assassinate the shogun, for then the shogun would disown him and put him to death and the war would be nipped in the bud.

“But the socks are still an important clue,” Reiko announced to the air. “It could solve the crime.”

“And the shogun wants the crime solved.” Duty was duty for Sano, even though the expected outcome-Tomoe and Lord Yoshimune put to death for the crime; Lord Ienobu off the hook-wasn’t to his liking. “I’ll have to pursue it.”

“Pursue what?” Yoshisato said from the doorway.

Sano, Reiko, and Magistrate Ueda tensed. A chill penetrated the warm room. Even though Yoshisato was ostensibly their ally, it was as if the enemy had just breached their sanctuary. “What are you doing here?” Sano said, angry at Yoshisato for throwing away the chance of peace with Lord Ienobu.

“Yanagisawa-san asked me to deliver a message. The wedding is still on. It will take place tonight, at the hour of the dog.”

Reiko’s breath made a soft, angry hissing sound. Sano said, “Yanagisawa-san virtually has my whole family hostage.” And he was sitting on Sano’s secret about Dr. Ito. “Isn’t that a good enough guarantee of my loyalty?”

Yoshisato shrugged, as if to say, you know Yanagisawa. He backtracked to the question he’d asked. “What are you going to pursue?” When Sano hesitated, Yoshisato said, “You leave the estate, you walk straight into the army’s hands. I’ll give you an escort, but only if you tell me what you’re up to.”

Sano realized that he couldn’t expect to get anywhere safely by himself. He told Yoshisato about Reiko and Akiko and the dog, then showed him Tomoe’s bloodstained socks.

Yoshisato thoughtfully stroked his chin. “I see.” Sano had an odd feeling that Yoshisato saw more than just the fact that the socks were evidence against the wrong person. “You should have a talk with Tomoe and Lord Yoshimune.” As he departed, he said, “I owe you something for putting up with Yanagisawa-san. Some of our troops will be waiting for you at the gate.”

Sano had an even odder feeling that Yoshisato’s motive was different from what he’d said, but Sano was in no position to quibble.

“Well!” Reiko said. “He’s much better than I expected. I do believe he really wants to find out who stabbed the shogun even if it’s not Lord Ienobu.”

She felt Yoshisato’s power of attraction, Sano thought. He found himself jealous because Reiko admired another man and she hadn’t admired Sano for a long time. “Don’t be too sure about that.” He rose as he cautioned himself as well as Reiko, “He’s still Yanagisawa’s son.”

* * *

Accompanied by two hundred soldiers borrowed from Lord Mori, Sano rode to Lord Yoshimune’s estate. The army troops didn’t try to arrest him. Sano figured that Lord Ienobu didn’t want them starting a fight that would begin the war before he was ready.

There were no army troops outside Lord Yoshimune’s estate. Yoshimune numbered among the daimyo who hadn’t taken sides in the power struggle. The gate sentries quickly obtained permission for Sano to enter. They made him go in alone, but they didn’t confiscate his swords or frisk him. That constituted a friendly reception these days.

Inside the mansion, Sano found Lord Yoshimune and Tomoe seated in the reception chamber. Musicians played flute, samisen, and drum while the young daimyo and his beautiful cousin sang a romantic song to each other. The duo exchanged fond smiles and soulful looks as they finished their song. Whatever doubt Sano had had that they were lovers was gone now. The daimyo saw Sano standing in the doorway, smiled, and said, “Greetings. Please come in.”

He didn’t seem embarrassed to be caught in an intimate moment. Nor did he seem to think he had anything to fear, Sano thought as he knelt near the group. Either Lord Yoshimune had no idea why Sano was here or he was supremely self-confident. But fear widened Tomoe’s limpid eyes.

“Have you eaten? May I offer you refreshments?” Lord Yoshimune gestured toward a spread of sliced raw fish and pickled vegetables.

“No, thank you,” Sano said politely.

Cunning sharpened Lord Yoshimune’s good humor. “Of course this isn’t a social call. It wouldn’t be, while we’re on the brink of a war.” He’d evidently heard what had happened at the council. “If you’re here to ask me to join Yanagisawa’s faction, my answer is no. I shall remain neutral.”

“I understand.” Sano understood that Lord Yoshimune was content to let Yanagisawa and Lord Ienobu fight it out by themselves. Then, whoever won wouldn’t punish him; he would keep his fief, his wealth, and his life. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Disconcerted, Lord Yoshimune said, “Well,” then dismissed the musicians. Tomoe rose to follow them out of the room.

“Stay here,” Sano said. “This concerns you, too.”

She threw a pleading glance at Lord Yoshimune. He nodded at her, and she reluctantly sank to her knees beside him. He narrowed his eyes at Sano. “What do you want with us?”

Sano was uncomfortably aware of being alone in the territory of a powerful man he was about to accuse of murder. “There’s been a new development in my investigation.”

Lord Yoshimune’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re still investigating the attack on the shogun? At a time like this?”

“The shogun’s order is still my duty to obey.”

“What has this new development to do with us?”

“We found the socks that the attacker wore.” Sano took a pouch from under his sash, loosened the drawstring, and removed the bloodstained socks. Holding one between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, he dangled them in front of Tomoe. “They’re yours.”

Tomoe shrank from him, her mouth opening wider than her eyes. Inarticulate with panic, she turned to Lord Yoshimune.

Lord Yoshimune patted her hand. “Don’t worry.” He told Sano, “Those look like any pair of women’s socks.”

“Observe the labels.” Sano pointed out the embroidered characters.

Lord Yoshimune snatched the socks, brushed off soot, frowned at the characters and the stains. Was he genuinely surprised to see his cousin’s socks with the shogun’s blood on them? Or was he only surprised because he’d thought they would never show up? Unable to tell, Sano turned to Tomoe. “Are these yours?”

The horrified recognition on her face was her answer.

“Did you stab the shogun?” Sano asked.

She shook her head. Her eyes pleaded with Lord Yoshimune to rescue her. Lord Yoshimune demanded, “How do you know that’s the shogun’s blood?”

“Lord Mori’s watchdog smelled the blood from the iron fan and tracked down the socks. It’s the same blood.”

Lord Yoshimune studied Sano closely and seemed to decide that he was telling the truth. “My cousin didn’t do it.” He sounded certain of that but distressed by the evidence to the contrary. “There must be some other explanation.”

Tomoe tugged his sleeve, reached up to whisper in his ear.

He listened; his face relaxed. “She says a pair of her socks was missing from her room in the Large Interior. She noticed right before she came home with me. The shogun’s attacker must have stolen them because they were marked with her name, and worn them in order to make her look guilty.”

It wasn’t impossible, and Sano wondered if Tomoe had the presence of mind to invent this quick excuse, but he said, “If the attacker wanted to frame Tomoe, then the socks would have been left in the open, someplace where they’d be easily found. But they weren’t.”

Lord Yoshimune’s features tensed again. “Where were they?”

“In an ash heap just outside the daimyo district.” Sano watched realization darken Lord Yoshimune’s eyes. “You see the problem: There are two other suspects-Lady Nobuko and Madam Chizuru. Neither left the castle after the stabbing. But Tomoe did. With you.”

“Are you accusing me of hiding these?” Indignant, Lord Yoshimune shook the socks at Sano.

“She could have concealed them under her clothes and given them to you outside the castle. It would have been easy for you to bury the socks on your way home.”

Lord Yoshimune uttered an irate laugh. “If she had stabbed the shogun-which she didn’t-and if I had wanted to hide the evidence-which I didn’t-then I would have been smart enough to destroy them, not dump them a short distance from my estate.”

Although Sano had to admit it was a good point, he said, “You might have thought they were hidden well enough because nobody would look outside the castle.”

Lord Yoshimune stood with an impatient, angry motion. Tomoe scrambled to her feet and cowered behind him as he said, “Don’t you see what’s going on? Someone is trying to frame Tomoe, just like Yanagisawa tried to frame Lord Ienobu. Only this person has learned that you won’t accept a fake confession.”

“If you really think the socks were planted and Tomoe is innocent, then you won’t mind if I search your estate.”

Lord Yoshimune chuckled. “Go right ahead.” Either he was sure he’d gotten rid of any other evidence against Tomoe or he was sure no one could have planted any inside his own domain. “It’s a big place for you to search by yourself, and I’m not letting you bring in helpers. I heard that Yanagisawa’s men tried to smuggle blood into the Large Interior.”

A search was a long shot as well as a huge undertaking. Sano didn’t want to believe that Tomoe and Lord Yoshimune were guilty, but he had to follow up on his clue. “I’ll start with Tomoe’s room.”

Displeased, yet confident that he would be vindicated, Lord Yoshimune led Sano to the women’s quarters. Tomoe anxiously trailed them to a chamber lively with color. A painted mural depicted butterflies in a garden; brightly patterned kimonos hung on stands; on the dressing table, hair ornaments made of beads and silk flowers adorned a carved jade tree. Shelves held a collection of dolls. It was the room of a child, but Sano smelled a man’s wintergreen hair oil and a faint animal odor of sex. Lord Yoshimune had recently visited Tomoe here, and not to play dolls. Lord Yoshimune watched with alert, unfriendly eyes as Sano looked inside a cabinet full of clothes. Tomoe clung to Lord Yoshimune; he absently stroked her hair. Sano’s attention moved to a red lacquer writing desk. He crouched, lifted the lid, and revealed a jumble of writing brushes and inkstones amid papers covered with childish, blotched calligraphy. The top sheet was a love poem, probably a lyric from a popular song. Sano riffled the others and stopped at a page written in a different hand.

“What’s that?” Lord Yoshimune left Tomoe and swiftly crossed the room.

Sano rose, held up the page, and pointed at the character stamped in red ink at the bottom. “It’s a letter signed with your seal.” He read aloud, “‘Tonight, while the shogun is asleep, sneak into his chamber and stab him to death with this iron fan. Then go back to the Large Interior and wait for me. Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of everything. I love you.’”

“What?” Lord Yoshimune said with bewildered indignation, “Let me see that.” He snatched the letter from Sano. “I didn’t write this! It’s not even my handwriting! I never told Tomoe to stab the shogun!”

“Then who did write it?” Sano asked even as he realized that the letter could be a forgery, another attempt to steer him in the wrong direction. “Who put it there?”

Lord Yoshimune looked at his cousin, who hovered near the door. “Tomoe-san?” For the first time his confidence seemed shaken, his fondness for her shaded by suspicion. “Have you seen this before?”

She wordlessly shook her head. A tear welled in each of her eyes and rolled down each cheek. Lord Yoshimune gave her a brief, intense scrutiny, then turned back to Sano. His eyes flashed with anger. “I think you stole Tomoe’s socks, and stained them with the shogun’s blood, after I took her away from the castle.”

Sano had expected Lord Yoshimune to invent an explanation, but this one offended him. “I didn’t!”

Lord Yoshimune jabbed his finger at Sano. “And you forged the letter. Who planted it in my house? Which of my people is your flunky?”

“No one,” Sano said, angered by the suggestion that he was so corrupt. “I haven’t anybody in your house working for me. Why would I want to frame Tomoe?”

“For Yanagisawa. Is this his ploy to force me to ally with him against Lord Ienobu? Did he send you to ‘find’ this letter? Were you going to threaten to expose me as a traitor?”

“No!” But Sano supposed that was the real reason Yoshisato had sent him here-to blackmail Lord Yoshimune into an alliance.

Lord Yoshimune shoved Sano. “Get out of my house before I kill you!” Again he’d lost his veneer of civility along with his temper and resorted to physical force. “Tell Yanagisawa he’ll rot in hell before I cave in to him!”