The Cloud Pavilion Read online

  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.”

  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.