The Shogun's Daughter: A Novel of Feudal Japan (Sano Ichiro Novels) Page 18

  “Not Yoshisato. He’s a good boy,” Lady Someko declared. “I know my son.”

  “Not as well as you think.” Reiko hated to disillusion a mother about her child; but she must, for the sake of her own children. “Yoshisato did meet Tsuruhime. He went to visit her shortly before she came down with smallpox.”

  The anger on Lady Someko’s face froze. The skin on her bosom went white. “No. He never told me.” Reiko realized she’d been suspicious and afraid all along that Yoshisato was involved in Tsuruhime’s death. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not,” Reiko said, genuinely contrite. “Yoshisato admitted it to my husband when they spoke yesterday. He had a chance to plant the sheet.”

  “There must be some other explanation for why he went.” Lady Someko sounded uncertain yet eager to convince herself. “He didn’t kill Tsuruhime.”

  “You think he might have,” Reiko pointed out. “You suspected it even before you found out that he’d visited Tsuruhime. That’s another reason you wanted to talk to me. Why did you suspect him? Was it something he did or said?”

  “I didn’t! There was nothing!” Lady Someko’s chest rose and fell with quickened, anxious breaths.

  “He may have started out good, but he’s been under Yanagisawa’s influence. Yanagisawa has had people assassinated. He wouldn’t stop at murdering the shogun’s daughter to put Yoshisato at the head of the regime.”

  “Yoshisato isn’t like him!” Aghast, Lady Someko sprang to her feet.

  “Then again, maybe Yanagisawa didn’t have to kill Tsuruhime,” Reiko went on, merciless in pursuit of the truth, “because Yoshisato did.”

  As a child Reiko had gone to the city with her grandmother and they’d seen a woman tied to a stake, about to be burned as punishment for arson. Her grandmother had pulled her away before the fire was set, but Reiko had never forgotten the woman. Now Reiko saw the same wild, desperate expression on Lady Someko. She’d voiced Lady Someko’s worst nightmare—that Yoshisato would turn into Yanagisawa, his real father. A draft stirred Lady Someko’s robes. The reddish-bronze silk glowed like flames consuming her body.

  “I’ve begun to think Yoshisato is guilty,” Reiko said, “and so have you.”

  The thought that she was getting close to solving the murder gave her pause: Sano wouldn’t welcome evidence against Yoshisato.

  Lady Someko said in a low, venomous voice, “Tell your husband to leave Yoshisato alone.” The glitter in her eyes concentrated into two brilliant pinpoints of hatred. “If he doesn’t, he’ll answer to Yanagisawa. And you’ll answer to me.”

  22

  ACROSS THE RIVER, Hirata spied on Deguchi through the concealing foliage of the trees. More than three hours had passed while they sat on the roof of the barracks. Deguchi hadn’t moved, hadn’t taken his gaze off the garden inside the estate across the street. The garden was deserted, peaceful in the hazy afternoon sunlight. Then a man shuffled out of the mansion and down the steps of the veranda. A hump on his back distorted his stunted figure. It was Lord Ienobu.

  As Ienobu slouched along the garden path, Deguchi leaned forward. His right hand held a small object, which he rubbed between his fingers. It looked like a pebble. Deguchi lifted his hand, sighted on Ienobu, drew back his arm. Hirata acted instinctively. He sprang, burst through the tree branches, and landed with a loud thump beside Deguchi at the same moment Deguchi hurled the pebble.

  The pebble flew so fast that it made a whizzing sound, glowed white like a comet, and trailed a thin orange flame. It zoomed close by Ienobu’s head and struck the wall of the mansion with a thud. An instant later, a loud boom rocked the sky. Particles of plaster sprayed around a wisp of smoke. Ienobu looked around. He frowned in confusion. He didn’t see the hole where the pebble had embedded itself in the wall. He didn’t know that it had been meant to pierce his skull and kill him. Shaking his head, he ambled around the corner of the mansion.

  Deguchi swiveled toward Hirata. Astonished and furious, he mouthed the words, You made me miss! What are you doing here?

  “Why did you just try to kill Ienobu?” Hirata asked.

  As they stared at each other in mutual bewilderment, Hirata realized he’d lost his chance to kill Deguchi. The priest now knew Hirata had been following him. He would be on his guard. Hirata also realized why General Otani had ordered him to kill Deguchi. General Otani knew Deguchi would try to assassinate Ienobu. Hirata had been sent to stop Deguchi.

  “I think we both have some explaining to do,” Hirata said.

  They jumped off the roof and walked to the townspeople’s quarter near the river. They sat on the bank of a stagnant canal. Hirata asked, “Why did you do it? You know General Otani wants Ienobu to be the next shogun. Why did you go against him and Tahara and Kitano?” Hirata was astounded by his discovery that he wasn’t the only member at odds with the secret society.

  Deguchi reached over and took his hand.

  “Hey!” Hirata flinched from the intimate gesture.

  Deguchi waggled his finger to express that he wasn’t making sexual advances. He closed his hand around Hirata’s, and Hirata heard a quiet male voice that traveled along the nerves in his arm, up into his head: Can you hear me?

  “Yes.” Hirata shivered at the eerie sensation of Deguchi’s thoughts invading his mind. “Can you hear my thoughts, too?”

  No. Not unless you learn how to send them.

  Relieved, Hirata said, “I’m ready for your explanation.”

  * * *

  WHEN SANO ARRIVED at the rebuilding magistrates’ headquarters, he met Moriwaki in the hall. “While you were gone, a message came for you, from the shogun,” Moriwaki said, flashing his bright smile. “He wants to see you at once.”

  Sano rode to the castle. In the palace, the shogun sat in his study. Scrolls were heaped on the gold-inlaid, black lacquer desk. The shogun was stamping them with his signature seal without reading them. He frowned as if the job were taxingly difficult.

  “Ahh, it’s you,” he said. “Come in.”

  Sano knelt and bowed. “Your Excellency summoned me?”

  “Yes.” The shogun’s frown deepened. “It has come to my attention that, ahh, instead of rebuilding Edo, you have, ahh, been snooping around, making inquiries about my daughter.”

  There went Sano’s hope that the shogun wouldn’t find out about his investigation until he’d solved the crime. And the shogun was clearly displeased. “May I ask who told you?”

  “No, you may not.”

  Sano mentally ran through the list of people who knew about the investigation. Yanagisawa and Yoshisato wouldn’t have told. Or would they? Although they didn’t want the shogun suspecting them of foul play, they might have enlisted him to order the investigation stopped. Lady Nobuko had agreed that the investigation should be kept secret, but Sano still didn’t trust her. Sano didn’t think Lord Tsunanori would tell, but who knew for sure?

  “Just tell me,” the shogun said. “Why are you investigating my daughter?”

  Sano owed the shogun the truth. If the investigation had involved his own daughter, he would want to know. And now that Yanagisawa knew, it might as well come out. “Because I believe she was murdered.”

  A familiar, queasy expression came over the shogun’s face: He didn’t understand, and he was afraid to ask for clarification and risk looking stupid. “But, ahh … Didn’t she die of smallpox? My memory isn’t, ahh, what it used to be.”

  Sano explained about the infected sheet.

  The shogun gasped in horror. “Merciful gods! If it happened to her, it could happen to me!” He hurried to the door, summoned his servants, and said, “Inspect my chambers. Look for things with blood or pus on them. If you find any, then burn everything!” The servants ran off. He collapsed behind his desk and held up his hands, afraid to touch anything.

  “I don’t think Your Excellency is in any danger.” Even as Sano spoke, he couldn’t quite dismiss the idea that Tsuruhime’s murder was part of a larger plot agains
t the Tokugawa clan and the shogun was next.

  Calmer but not totally reassured, the shogun asked, “Who killed Tsuruhime?”

  Here was Sano’s opportunity to implicate Yanagisawa in the crime. If he succeeded, the shogun would put Yanagisawa to death and Sano would be rid of Yanagisawa for good. The opportunity shone like an oily, dirty rainbow floating on clean water. Sano didn’t have any evidence against Yanagisawa. Honor forbade him to incriminate someone who might be innocent. Sano did have evidence against Yoshisato, but he was loath to hurt Yoshisato, even though Yoshisato was a party to an outrageous fraud. And Sano knew better than to suggest that Yoshisato had killed Tsuruhime. Casting aspersion on the shogun’s heir would be treason. Furthermore, Sano hadn’t forgotten Lord Tsunanori and the nurse. They were still suspects, too.

  “I don’t know who the killer is yet,” Sano said. “My investigation hasn’t progressed that far.” Opportunity drained away like water down a gutter.

  “Why not?” The shogun glowered. “And you call yourself a detective?” He’d obviously forgotten that Sano wasn’t one anymore.

  “I’ve had to fit my inquiries in between my duties as Chief Rebuilding Magistrate.”

  “Those duties aren’t as important as finding out who killed my daughter and, ahh, protecting me.” The shogun pointed his finger at Sano. “You will, ahh, dedicate yourself to your investigation until the murderer is caught.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.” Sano bowed, rose, and escaped before the shogun could tack a threat onto his order.

  That he now had time and official sanction for his investigation was a mixed blessing. Duty to the shogun put him further at odds with Yanagisawa, who wouldn’t let the fact that their lord wanted the investigation prevent him from trying to stop it. And if Sano couldn’t solve the murder, he would be put to death regardless of what happened with Yanagisawa.

  * * *

  HIRATA AND DEGUCHI sat by the canal, holding hands like lovers while Deguchi told his tale. When I was eight years old, my parents died. I lived on the streets. I ate garbage. I begged. Sometimes I went with men. They would have sex with me and pay me a few coppers.

  Hirata remembered Tahara telling him that Deguchi had been an orphan and child prostitute. Tahara had lied about many things, but at least this was apparently true.

  Some of the men liked to hurt me. Ienobu was one of those.

  Hirata was surprised. “I’ve never heard that Ienobu has sex with boys.”

  He keeps it secret. He doesn’t want people to know he’s like his uncle the shogun. He wants them to think he’s pure and noble. Disdain turned the voice in Hirata’s head into acid. I’ve been spying on him. He travels in a closed palanquin, to inns outside town. His valet is there with a boy for him. That’s what happened to me. A man picked me up on the street and left me in a room at an inn. Then Ienobu came. He beat me and choked me while he raped me.

  Anger burned in Deguchi’s eyes. Hirata felt his hand trembling. When he finished, I was bruised and covered with blood. I hurt so much I couldn’t move. Ienobu left. His valet dumped me in an alley. He thought I was dead. But I managed to stand up. I started walking. I kept going until I reached Zōjō Temple. Then I collapsed. The priests took me in. They nursed me until I was well. I became a novice. I had food and clothes and an education and a place to live. But I couldn’t forget the men who’d hurt me. I swore that someday I would kill them. But I didn’t know how I would do it. Until one day when an itinerant priest and his disciple came to visit. It was Ozuno and Tahara.

  So this was how and where the seeds for the secret society had been planted. The canal, the ruins, and the hot sun faded from Hirata’s consciousness as he listened in fascination.

  Ozuno gave a martial arts lesson for the novices. I was the best pupil. He invited me to go with him and Tahara. I was twelve. He said he would turn me into a great fighter. And I saw that if I went, I could learn everything I needed.

  He and Deguchi had both had personal reasons for studying the mystic martial arts, Hirata realized. He’d wanted to recover his strength after his injury; Deguchi had wanted the skills for murder.

  At first Tahara was jealous because he had to share Ozuno with me, but we became friends. I studied with Ozuno for six years. Then I left to wander the country and practice my skills. Tahara had already gone by that time. After a while I came back to Edo. I became a priest. And I went looking for those men. One was a rich moneylender. I climbed in his window at night while he was sleeping, and I strangled him.

  The voice in Hirata’s head was chillingly matter-of-fact as it described four other murders Deguchi had committed. Deguchi apparently saw no conflict between his actions and the Buddhist prohibition against taking lives.

  In the meantime, I met up with Tahara again. We met Kitano. He’d studied with Ozuno before we started. A few years later we formed the secret society. Deguchi turned to Hirata. You know most of what happened next.

  “Why didn’t you kill Ienobu first?” Hirata asked.

  I couldn’t find him. I didn’t know his name. I didn’t see him until after the earthquake. I was at the castle for a religious ceremony, and there he was, the shogun’s nephew.

  “By then you’d sworn to put the secret society ahead of everything else. You’d agreed to help the ghost make Ienobu the next shogun.” Hirata was stunned by Deguchi’s dilemma, which he’d never imagined. “If you killed him, you would be breaking your oath to the society.”

  Deguchi’s expression was obstinate. I swore revenge on him before the secret society was formed.

  Hirata saw that he and Deguchi both had preexisting commitments from before they’d joined the society. Hirata’s was his loyalty to Sano; Deguchi’s, to the wounded child he’d been.

  “How were you supposed to get away with killing Ienobu?” Hirata asked. “Didn’t you think Tahara and Kitano would find out?”

  Deguchi shrugged. They trust me.

  “When they heard how Ienobu died, wouldn’t they have suspected you?”

  I threw a bullet at him. He’d have looked like he’d been shot. It even made a noise like a gun. Things do when they move faster than sound travels. Tahara and Kitano wouldn’t have connected his death with me.

  “You had everything figured out, didn’t you?”

  Not everything. Deguchi looked mournful. General Otani will know what I just did. Nothing can be hidden from him. I wish Tahara and Kitano and I had never killed Ozuno and stolen the magic spell book! I don’t want to follow a ghost’s orders anymore! The passion in his words burned Hirata’s mind with a sizzle of nerve impulses. Tahara and Kitano used to be my best friends, but they changed. All they want is to learn new powers. They care more about pleasing the ghost than they care about me! Hirata saw the lonely orphan in Deguchi, angry because his friends had let him down. I wish I could get out of the secret society. If they find out I’m going against them, they’ll kill me. Or Otani will, the next time I go into a trance.

  It was the same punishment with which the ghost had threatened Hirata.

  That’s the price I’ll pay for revenge on Ienobu. My own life. Deguchi gave Hirata a quizzical look. Why were you following me?

  “When I went into a trance during the ritual, General Otani ordered me to kill you.”

  Deguchi flung Hirata’s hand away from him. Shock and fear were written on his face.

  “Wait! I’m not going to do it!” Hirata saw a solution to his problems—and Deguchi’s. “I think we can help each other.”

  Warily hopeful, Deguchi gestured for Hirata to explain. Hirata said, “I don’t want to be a slave to a ghost, either. I want to get out of the society, too. I decided I had to kill the other members. Someone had to be first. That was you. But now I don’t have to kill you.” Happier than he’d been in ages, Hirata extended his hand to Deguchi. “Let’s team up together. We’ll kill Tahara and Kitano before they can kill us.”

  Deguchi stared at Hirata’s hand as if it were a blade that would slice him. Hirata knew
that asking him to turn on his friends was asking a lot of Deguchi. And they both knew that killing Tahara and Kitano would be no easy task.

  “It’s the only way we’ll ever be free,” Hirata said.

  A long moment passed. Hirata exerted all the force of his mental powers, willing Deguchi to see reason. In the distance, a temple bell tolled the hour. Then, with an air of resignation, Deguchi grasped Hirata’s hand. How would we get rid of General Otani?

  An iron band around Hirata’s heart loosened. He wanted to jump up and down and laugh with exultation. He had an ally against Tahara and Kitano! But it was too early to celebrate.

  “We burn the magic book so that no one can learn the rituals and General Otani’s ghost can never come back,” Hirata said.

  That’s not good enough. Ozuno said there are other copies of the book. Somebody else could summon the ghost. Who knows, it could come after us. Before we destroy the book, we have to learn the reverse spell that sends the ghost back to the world of the dead forever.

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Together they would vanquish Tahara, Kitano, and the ghost. Before his five days were up, Hirata would be free. He could reclaim his honor and his rightful place at Sano’s side.

  23

  AS SANO WAS leaving the palace, a page came up to him, said, “Here’s a message,” and handed him a scroll container.

  Sano opened it and unfurled the scroll. He read calligraphy as crooked as the man who’d written it: “Please meet me at the forest preserve, to discuss a matter of urgent importance to both of us. Ienobu.”

  The forest preserve was a carefully maintained wilderness inside Edo Castle. In the early days after the earthquake, Sano had once gone to the preserve to escape the devastation and have a solitary rest from his constant toil. He’d found it overrun by other men there for the same purpose and servants sawing up fallen trees for firewood. Now the preserve was quiet, the foliage golden green where the late afternoon sun shone on it and black under the clouds. The only blight was Ienobu and two bodyguards, seated on a blanket spread on the grass, amid empty lacquer lunch boxes, below a canopy.