Inside, Chamberlain Yanagisawa sat on the tatami-covered floor, studying official doc.u.ments in the flickering light of oil lamps. The remains of his evening meal littered a tray by his side; from a charcoal brazier, smoke drifted out the slatted windows. This was Yanagisawa's favorite site for secret meetings, away from Edo Castle and any eavesdroppers. Tonight he'd heard reports from metsuke spies who'd just returned from a.s.signments in the provinces. Now he awaited his final rendezvous, which concerned the most important matter of all: the status of his plot against Sosakan Sano.

Voices and footsteps sounded on the pier. Yanagisawa tossed his papers on a cushioned bench and stood. Peering out the window, he saw a guard escorting a small figure along the pier toward the pavilion. Yanagisawa smiled when he recognized Shichisaburo, dressed in multi-colored brocade theatrical robes. Antic.i.p.ation quickened his heartbeat. He threw open the door, admitting a rush of cold air.

Up the pier came Shichisaburo, moving with ritual grace as if entering a No stage. Seeing his master, his eyes lit in convincing delight. He bowed, chanting: "Now I will dance the moon's dance, My sleeves are trailing clouds, Dancing, I will sing my joy, Again and again while the night endures."

This was a quote from the play Kantan, written by the great Zeami Motokiyo, about a Chinese peasant who has a vivid dream of ascending the throne of the emperor. Yanagisawa and Shichisaburo often enjoyed performing scenes from a favorite drama, and Yanagisawa responded with the next lines: "And yet while the night endures, The sun rises bright, While we think it is still night, Day has already come."

Desire spread warmth through Yanagisawa. The boy was a masterful actor-and so arrestingly beautiful. But for now, business took precedence over pleasure. Drawing Shichisaburo into the pavilion and closing the door, Yanagisawa asked, "Have you carried out the orders I gave you last night?"

"Oh, yes, my lord."

In the lamplight, the young actor's face radiated happiness. His presence infused the room with the fresh, sweet fragrance of youth. Intoxicated, Chamberlain Yanagisawa inhaled hungrily."Did you have any trouble getting inside?"

"None at all, my lord, " Shichisaburo said."I followed your instructions. No one stopped me. It was perfect."

"Were you able to find what we needed?" Despite the fact that they were alone, Yanagisawa followed his usual practice of speaking in a circ.u.mspect manner.

"Oh, yes. It was right where you said it would be."

"Did anyone see you?"

The young actor shook his head."No, my lord, I was careful." His mouth quirked in a mischievous smile. "And even if someone had seen me, they wouldn't have guessed who I was, or what I was doing."

"No. They wouldn't." Remembering their ploy, Yanagisawa smiled, too. "Where did you put it?" The actor stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, and he chuckled. "Superb. You've done very well."

Shichisaburo clapped his hands with glee. "Honorable Chamberlain, you're so brilliant! The sosakan-sama is sure to fall into the trap." Then doubt furrowed his childish brow. "But what if he happens to miss it somehow?"

"He won't," Yanagisawa said confidently. "I know how Sano thinks and acts. He'll do just as I've predicted. But if for some reason he doesn't, I'll help him." Yanagisawa chuckled. "How appropriate that my other rival should provide the tool for the destruction of them both. All we have to do is wait and be patient. Right now, I can think of a pleasant way to pa.s.s the time. Come here."

Yanagisawa grasped Shichisaburo's hand, pulling him close. But the boy playfully resisted. "Wait, my lord. I have a surprise for you. If you will please permit me?"

With a tantalizing smile, he unknotted his sash and let it drop to the floor. Ceremoniously he shrugged off his outer kimono, one sleeve at a time. He stepped out of his flowing trousers. Desire welled in Chamberlain Yanagisawa's throat and groin. No one else undressed with such graceful flair. He couldn't wait to see what new erotic delight the actor had in store for him.

Shichisaburo's eyes glowed, reflecting his master's excitement. Prolonging their pleasure, he paused for a dramatic moment in his white under-robe. Then he peeled the robe away from his shoulders and let it fall. Triumphantly he flung out his arms, displaying himself for Yanagisawa's inspection. Yanagisawa gasped; his heart lurched.

Raw gashes marked Shichisaburo's chest. Recent and unhealed, the cuts were red, caked with darkening blood, lurid against the fair, smooth skin. The crudest one bisected his left nipple. Another ran down through his navel, into his loincloth. He looked like the victim of a savage attack.

"I did it for you, my lord!" Shichisaburo exclaimed."To show that I'm willing to endure pain and suffering for your sake."

Ritual self-mutilation, performed with swords or daggers, was an age-old practice by which samurai lovers demonstrated their loyalty and devotion to each other. Therefore, Shichisaburo's action didn't really surprise Yanagisawa, now that the initial shock had pa.s.sed. Amused by the boy's eagerness to please, he laughed.

"You've done well," he said.

Shichisaburo knelt. Taking Chamberlain Yanagisawa's hand, he pressed it against the wound on his breast. His skin felt feverish. "With my blood, I pledge my eternal love for you, my lord," he whispered.

His eyes blazed with pa.s.sion-genuine, unfeigned pa.s.sion. The laughter died in Yanagisawa's throat. Stunned, he said, "You really mean it, don't you?" Deep within him, something trembled, like the ground during an earthquake. "Everything you say about your feelings for me, it's all true. You're not just acting. You mean every word!"

The boy nodded. "At first I was acting," he admitted. "Then I grew to love you." His smile was full of yearning affection. "You're so beautiful and strong, so intelligent and powerful. You're everything I want, everything I could wish to be. I would do anything for you!" He raised Yanagisawa's hand to his face, pressing his mouth to its palm.

A torrent of emotion flooded Yanagisawa. First came disbelief that anyone would make such a gesture of self-sacrifice for him. Into his mind flashed a vivid memory. On the day he'd achieved the post of chamberlain, he had hosted a lavish gala at Edo Castle, with music, dancers, Kabuki skits, the best food and sake. All the male guests were subordinates who wanted favors from him. All the women were courtesans bought with his new wealth. No family-he remained estranged from them; no friends-he had none. The guests with whom he'd celebrated cared nothing about him, except for the power he wielded. In the midst of insincere smiles and congratulations, Yanagisawa had experienced a feeling of complete emptiness.

Now that same emptiness opened into a vast, yawning cavern inside him. From it howled the voice of his soul, demanding the love he craved but had never known. Tears rushed to Yanagisawa's eyes-tears he thought had been spent at his brother's funeral, but had instead acc.u.mulated into a huge reservoir of loneliness. Shichisaburo's tribute moved him to the core. He wanted to embrace the boy and sob out his grat.i.tude, to feel tender arms around him while the armor shielding his heart crumbled.

Then, across the distance of time, he heard his father's voice: "... lazy, unfit to be my son... pathetic, dishonorable..." Yanagisawa recalled the blows with the wooden pole. Again he experienced the feeling of sheer worthlessness, the feeling that he didn't deserve love. Hating the awful sensation, wanting to make it go away, he forced himself to remember who he was: the shogun's second-in-command. And who Shichisaburo was: just a little peasant, foolish enough to injure his own body for another person. How could he have the temerity to love the ruler of j.a.pan?

Yanagisawa's yearning and grat.i.tude turned to rage. Jerking his hand away from Shichisaburo, he demanded, "How dare you treat me in this impertinent manner?" He slapped Shichisaburo's face. The young actor gasped; hurt filled his eyes. "I never ordered you to love me." Anyone capable of loving him was beneath contempt. "How dare you?"

The lessons of a lifetime filled him with a fear that increased his anger. Love made a person vulnerable, dependent; love could only lead to misery. Hadn't his parents spurned his childhood efforts to please them and win affection? The rejection had hurt even worse than the blows. In Shichisaburo's love, Yanagisawa glimpsed the terrible promise of future rejection, more pain-unless he did something to avert the threat.

"I'm your lord, not your paramour," Yanagisawa shouted, his voice ragged as he fought to control his warring emotions. "Show some respect! Bow down!"

With a swipe of his arm, he knocked the actor off his knees. Shichisaburo sprawled on the floor. Horrified by his own cruelty, Chamberlain Yanagisawa stifled the urge to apologize, to give in to his craving for love. But the need for self-preservation outweighed all other needs.

"I'm sorry, my lord." Shichisaburo was sobbing. "I didn't mean to offend you. I thought you'd be pleased by what I did. A thousand apologies!"

He raised himself on his elbows. Chamberlain Yanagisawa struck his jaw, and he fell again. By bringing Yanagisawa's loneliness to the surface, by making him vulnerable, the actor had demeaned him, reversed their positions. Yanagisawa couldn't tolerate the shift in the balance of power. It presaged suffering and ruin that he didn't want to imagine.

Roughly he tore away the white cotton band that bound Shichisaburo's loins and cleaved his b.u.t.tocks. Then he stripped off his own robes. Shoving the young actor facedown on the tatami, he straddled Shichisaburo.

"I'll show you who is master and who is the slave!" Yanagisawa shouted.

Trembling with fear, Shichisaburo wept. They'd often indulged in rough s.e.xual play-but this was not play, and he knew it. "If it please my lord, I'll never speak of my love again," he cried. "Let's forget what happened and go back to the way we were before!"

They could never go back; everything had changed between them; Chamberlain Yanagisawa pummeled Shichisaburo's back with his fists. Shichisaburo moaned, but didn't struggle. The lack of resistance further incensed Yanagisawa. He grabbed the boy's hair and slammed his face repeatedly against the floor, while fumbling to liberate his erection from his loincloth.

"You can do-whatever you wish-to me," Shichisaburo whimpered between anguished gasps. Sweat glistened on his skin; the reek of his terror filled the room, but he spoke up bravely. "I accept-the pain. Even if you-don't want my love-I'm yours forever. I'll-do anything for you!"

Before the violent fusion of pleasure and anger and need could over whelm him, Chamberlain Yanagisawa realized what he had to do. He must end his liaison with Shichisaburo-or face the ruin of his power- of his entire self. Yet for now, the young actor was too useful to drop. He'd successfully carried out orders. The stage was set for the destruction of Sano, and Chamberlain Yanagisawa's other rival. But if the ploy somehow failed, Yanagisawa might require Shichisaburo's services again before the end of the murder investigation.

16.

Sano's last task of the day was hearing reports from his detective corps. In his office, the men related the progress of their hunt for the poison dealer and investigation of the Large Interior. Doctors and pharmacists had been canva.s.sed, without results so far; interviews with the residents of the women's quarters and a search of the rooms had failed to uncover useful information or evidence either. Sano instructed the men to resume work the next day. He a.s.signed a team to track the pa.s.sage of the ink bottle and letter from the Miyagi estate to Lady Harume. Then the detectives filed out of the room, leaving Sano and Hirata to review their inquiries.

"Police headquarters gave me a possible lead on the drug peddler," Hirata said, "an old man selling aphrodisiacs around town. And I'm using one of my informants-the Rat."

Sano nodded his approval. The police's drug dealer might have supplied the Indian arrow toxin that had killed Harume, and he was familiar with the Rat's abilities. "Now, what about Lady Ichiteru?"

Hirata's gaze slid away. "I spoke with her. But... I don't have anything definite to report yet."

He seemed uncharacteristically distracted, and his eyes shone with a peculiar intensity. Sano was troubled by Hirata's evasiveness, as well as his failure to obtain information on an important suspect. Nonetheless, he hated to reprimand Hirata.

"I suppose tomorrow is soon enough to finish investigating Lady Ichiteru," he said.

His voice must have conveyed doubt, because Hirata said defensively, "You know it's not always possible to get the whole story from someone on the first try." Squirming, he clasped and unclasped his hands. "Would you rather interrogate Lady Ichiteru yourself? Don't you trust me? After Nagasaki?"

Sano recalled how his inclination to meet all challenges alone there had almost destroyed him, and how Hirata's competence and loyalty had saved his life. "Of course I trust you," Sano said. Changing the subject, he described the examination of Lady Harume's corpse and his interviews with Lieutenant Kushida and the Miyagi. "We'll keep the pregnancy a secret until I inform the shogun. Meanwhile, try to discreetly find out who knew or guessed that Harume was with child."

"Do you think she knew herself?" Hirata asked.

Sano pondered. "It seems as though she must have at least suspected. My theory is that she didn't report the pregnancy because she wasn't sure who the father was, or whether the shogun would claim the child as his." Sano noticed Hirata staring off into s.p.a.ce instead of listening. "Hirata?"

Starting nervously, Hirata reddened. "Yes, sosakan-sama! Is there something else?"

If Hirata's behavior didn't return to normal soon, Sano thought, they must have a serious talk. But right now, Sano was eager to see Reiko. "No. There's nothing else. I'll see you tomorrow."

"What do you mean, she's not here?" Sano asked the manservant who'd greeted him in the mansion's private living quarters with the news that Reiko had left the house that morning and not yet returned. "Where did she go?"

"She wouldn't say, master. Her escorts sent word that they were taking her to various places in Nihonbashi and Ginza. But it's not clear what she was doing there."

An unpleasant suspicion formed in Sano's mind. "When will she be back?"

"No one knows. I'm sorry, master."

Annoyed by the postponement of a romantic evening, Sano realized that he was hungry-he hadn't eaten since noon, a bowl of noodles at his mother's house after the interview with Lieutenant Kushida. And he needed to wash away the taint of the illegal dissection. "Have my bath prepared and my evening meal brought," he told the servant.

Once bathed, dressed in clean robes, and settled in the warm, lamp-lit sitting room, Sano tried to eat his dinner of rice, steamed fish, vegetables, and tea. But his irritation with Reiko soon turned to concern. Had something bad happened to her?

Had she left him?

His appet.i.te lost, Sano paced the sitting room. It occurred to him that this was what marriage must be like for women: waiting at home for their spouses to return, wondering and fretting. Suddenly he understood Reiko's rebellion against her lot in life. But anger precluded sympathy. He didn't like this one bit. How dare she treat him so? For the next hour, his rage alternated with growing worry. He imagined Reiko caught in a burning building, or a.s.saulted by outlaws. In his mind he rehea.r.s.ed the scolding he would give her when she got home.

Then he heard hoofbeats outside. His heart jumped with simultaneous relief and fury. At last! Sano rushed to the front door. In walked Reiko, followed by her entourage. The cold wind had put a vivid sparkle in her eyes and loosened strands of long hair from her coiffure. She looked utterly lovely-and satisfied with herself.

"Where have you been?" Sano demanded. "You shouldn't have gone without my permission, and without leaving word of your whereabouts. Explain what you were doing out so late!"

The servants, foreseeing a marital dispute, faded away. Reiko squared her shoulders, delicate chin jutting forward. "I was investigating Lady Harume's murder."

"After I ordered you not to?"

"Yes!"

Despite his anger, Sano admired Reiko's nerve. A weaker woman might have lied to avoid censure instead of standing up to him. His attraction to her charged the air of the dim corridor with invisible sparks. And he could tell that she felt it, too. Self-consciousness broke her gaze; her hand went up to straighten her disheveled hair; her tongue touched the chipped tooth. He felt himself becoming aroused against his will. He forced a sarcastic laugh.

"Investigating how? What could you possibly do?"

Hands clasped, jaws set in rigid self-control, Reiko said, "Don't be so quick to mock me, Honorable Husband." Icy scorn frosted her voice.

"I went to Nihonbashi to see my cousin Eri. She's a palace official in the Large Interior. She told me that Lieutenant Kushida was caught in Lady Harume's room two days before the murder. Lady Ichiteru threatened to kill Harume during a fight they had at Kannei Temple."

She laughed at Sano's surprised look. "You didn't know, did you? Without me, you never would have, because both incidents were hushed up. And Eri thinks someone threw a dagger at Harume and tried to poison her last summer." Reiko described the events, then said, "How long might it have taken you to find out? You need my help. Admit it!"

This evidence placed Lieutenant Kushida in Lady Harume's room on the day Lord and Lady Miyagi had sent the ink bottle. Kushida might have read the letter and seen the perfect opportunity to administer the poison with which he'd already planned to kill her. Reiko had also confirmed Lady Ichiteru's hatred for Harume. Sano was impressed by Reiko's ability, then furious at her lack of remorse.

"A few stray facts don't solve a case," he bl.u.s.tered, although he knew they sometimes did. "And how can I be sure your cousin is a reliable witness, or that her theories are correct? You defied me and risked danger for nothing."

"Danger?" Reiko frowned in confusion. "What harm could come from just talking and listening?"

Further incensed by his wife's challenge, Sano spared no mercy for her feminine sensibilities. "When I was a police commander, I had a secretary, a man even younger than you." Sano's voice hoa.r.s.ened at the memory of Tsunehiko's childlike innocence. "He died at a highway inn, his throat cut, in a pool of his own blood. He did nothing to deserve death. His only mistake was accompanying me on a murder investigation."

Reiko's eyes widened in shock. "But... you're still all right." Her bold voice became a tentative murmur.

"Only by the grace of the G.o.ds," Sano retorted. "I've been attacked-cut, shot at, ambushed, beaten-more times than I care to think about. So believe me when I say that detective work is dangerous. It could get you killed!"

Reiko stared. "All those things happened while you were investigating crimes and catching murderers?'' she said slowly. The scorn had left her voice. "You risked death to do what was right, even when you knew people would kill to stop you?"

The new admiration in her eyes left Sano more shaken than her defiance had. Speechless, he nodded.

"I didn't know." Reiko took a hesitant step toward him. "I'm sorry."

Sano stood paralyzed, unable even to breathe. He sensed in this young woman a dedication to truth and justice that matched his own, a willingness to sacrifice herself for abstract principles, for honor. This similarity of spirit was an undeniable basis for love. The knowledge thrilled, and horrified, Sano.

But Reiko's face shone with joyful recognition of the same fact. Eagerly she reached out a slim hand to him. "You understand how I feel," she said, responding to their unspoken exchange. Pa.s.sion heightened her beauty. "Let's work and serve honor together. Together we can solve the mystery of Lady Harume's murder!"

What would it be like, Sano wondered, to have that pa.s.sion directed at me in the bedchamber? The thought dizzied him. The prospect of having a partner to share his mission was almost irresistible. He longed to take the hand she offered.

But he could not draw his wife into the perilous web of his profession. And he knew his own faults, which he didn't want to encourage in her. How could he live with someone as stubborn, reckless, and single-minded as himself? He still cherished the dream of a submissive wife, a peaceful home.

Sano said, "You've heard my reasons for wanting you to stay out of business that doesn't concern you. I've made my decision, and it's final."

Reiko's hand dropped. Hurt extinguished her radiance like a shroud thrown over a lamp, but her resolve didn't waver. "Why should my life not be mine to risk if I choose, or my honor mean less than yours because I'm a woman?" she demanded. "I, too, have samurai blood. In centuries past, I would have ridden into battle at your side. Why not now?"

"Because that's just the way things are. Your duty is to me, and I expect you to serve it here at home." Sano knew he sounded pompous, but he believed every word. "For you to do otherwise would be pure selfish, willful disregard of your family responsibilities."

The irony of the situation struck him. That he, who had often jeopardized family duty for the sake of personal causes, should criticize Reiko for doing the same! Faltering, he grasped for the thread of the argument."Now tell me why you went to Ginza. For more women's gossip?"

"If you're going to belittle my work, you don't deserve to know." Reiko's melodic voice coated a core of steel; her expression was no less cold or hard. "And if you don't want my help with the investigation, then it can hardly matter. Now please excuse me."

As she swept past him, Sano felt an immediate sense of loss. And he couldn't let her have the last word. "Reiko. Wait." He grabbed her arm.

Glaring, she pulled away. Her sleeve tore with a loud, ripping sound. Then she was gone, leaving Sano holding a long piece of silk in his hand.

Sano stared after her for a moment. Then he hurled the fragment of sleeve to the floor. His marriage was going from bad to worse. Stalking to his own chamber, he dressed in outdoor wear, hung his swords at his waist, and summoned a servant. "Have my horse saddled," he said.

He couldn't solve his problems alone. Therefore, he would consult the one person who might be able to help him with Reiko-and who might also have vital information relating to the murder investigation.

"Good evening, Sano-san. Please come in." Magistrate Ueda, seated in his office, did not seem surprised by Sano's unannounced arrival. Lamps burned on his desk amid writing supplies, official doc.u.ments, and scattered papers: evidently he was catching up on work. To the servant who had escorted Sano into the mansion, he said, "Bring tea for my honorable son-in-law." Then he gestured for Sano to kneel opposite him.

As Sano complied, nervousness and shame tightened his stomach. He was unaccustomed to asking for help with personal problems. His trouble with Reiko signified a most embarra.s.sing incompetence; a high-ranking samurai should be able to handle a mere woman. Seeking advice reflected a weakness that he didn't want to reveal to his father-in-law, whom he respected but hardly knew at all. Now Sano sought the words to obtain a.s.sistance while saving face.

Magistrate Ueda spared him the effort. "It's my daughter, isn't it?" At Sano's nod, an expression of grim sympathy came over his features. "I thought so. What's she done now?"

Encouraged by the magistrate's frankness, Sano poured out the entire story. "You've known Reiko all her life. Please tell me what to do."