The Snow Empress Read online

  He sensed the people in distant villages. He felt himself climbing up and up, beyond the vast human world that echoed with a million voices, thoughts, and emotions. Stars and planets appeared at the far reaches of his inner vision. Faster and faster he ascended. His spirit soared with the certainty that it verged on a breakthrough to a higher plane of consciousness.

  Suddenly his propulsion shuddered to a halt. Sensory manifestations intruded. Flashes of the water spilling down on him and pangs from the chill in his bones pierced his tranquility. Stars and planets winked out like snuffed candles. Then he was falling, his mind a rock dropping from a great height toward the body that shivered in the pool. Disappointment crushed Hirata.

  The breakthrough had eluded him. His perceptions were too limited. His spirit lacked some unknown, crucial dimension.

  As he plummeted into the human world, one pattern of thought and emotion among legions snagged his mind. He hung suspended long enough to recognize that pattern, that unique life-energy. He knew the man to whom it belonged. It resonated across space to him. At the same moment that his mind reinhabited his body, realization flashed through every cold, wet, trembling fiber of him.

  Sano is in trouble.

  Hirata staggered up from the water. Frozen and dripping, he clambered onto the bank. Sano, his master whom he was honor-bound to serve, who’d generously released him from his duties so that he could pursue his martial arts studies, now needed him. Hirata couldn’t resist the summons even though it was an involuntary cry for help that he’d sensed, not a direct order from Sano. No matter how much he desired enlightenment, it would have to wait.

  The path he must follow was the road to Edo.

  Evenings were the hardest times for Reiko. Each one ushered in the end of another day without Masahiro. Ahead of her stretched many long, dark hours before morning brought new hope that he would be found. Now, as she knelt in the lamplit nursery with her one-year-old daughter on her lap, she sank into despair. Not even her baby could comfort her. Akiko squirmed and bawled. She wouldn’t stop even though Reiko rocked her and sang to her. Her little face was bright red with temper, her mouth wide, her eyes squeezed shut and streaming tears.

  “Shh, Akiko, it’s all right,” Reiko murmured.

  But Akiko cried harder, for no apparent reason. She was a fussy child who gave Reiko not a moment of peace. Reiko often wondered if certain troubles she’d experienced during her pregnancy were to blame. Akiko was so unlike her brother, who’d been a lively yet much easier infant.

  The thought of Masahiro as a baby provoked such anguish in Reiko that she moaned as if physically struck. She knew she should be thankful to have one child left, but her heart was so full of pain that there was no room for gratitude.

  “Please stop crying, Akiko!” she wailed.

  Her friend Midori hurried into the chamber. “Let me have the baby.” She knelt, took Akiko in one arm, and enfolded Reiko in the other. “Don’t worry,” she said. “They’ll find him.”

  “But it’s been so long!” Weeping quaked Reiko. Every time she thought she’d run out of tears, she rediscovered that the well was bottomless. Akiko bawled louder, and Reiko knew that her own distress was worsening her child’s, but she couldn’t stop crying. “I’m so afraid I’ll never see him again.”

  “Of course you will,” Midori said, forceful and certain. “He’ll be back soon.” She hugged Reiko. “But I don’t know how he’ll recognize you. You’re so thin I can feel your bones. Have you eaten today?”

  Reiko shook her head. When she put food in her mouth, her throat closed up; she could hardly swallow. The flesh had melted from her body. She was as emaciated and weak as she’d been plump and healthy while pregnant with Masahiro. It was as if she were now pregnant with grief.

  “You have to keep up your strength,” Midori said. “I’ll bring you some soup.”

  “No thank you.” Reiko gulped while tears bled down her face. She wiped them away with a skeletal hand. Once she’d been full of vitality, practicing martial arts and traveling around town to help people in trouble in a manner unheard of for any woman, let alone the wife of a high official. Now she felt fragile and vulnerable, as if when she went outside she would fall and break her bones or be run down by a galloping horse. But although it was grief that debilitated her body, it was terror that consumed her spirit.

  “Oh, Midori-san,” she cried, “what if Masahiro is—what if he’s—?”

  She couldn’t speak the awful word.

  Midori turned and said, “Here’s Chamberlain Sano.”

  Reiko looked up to see her husband standing in the doorway. The baby stopped crying; she thrust out her little arms at him. He entered the chamber and took her from Midori. Akiko adored her father. She cooed and played with his topknot. Reiko’s sobs paused while she searched Sano’s face, as she did every day, for a sign of good news. She braced herself for another disappointment.

  This time she saw his familiar concern for her as he knelt before her, but his eyes were bright with elation. The tears dried on Reiko’s cheeks. Her heart began to pound furiously.

  “What is it?” she asked, breathless with hope.

  “I know where Masahiro is,” Sano said.

  A gasp choked Reiko. She pressed her hand to her chest. “Merciful gods!” Her spirits skyrocketed from the depths of misery to the heights of joy.

  “That’s wonderful!” Midori exclaimed. “Oh, Reiko-san, I’m so happy for you.”

  Reiko wept so hard with relief that a moment passed before she realized that Sano hadn’t actually said he’d found Masahiro. “Where is he?” she said, jumping to her feet. “Why haven’t you brought him to me?”

  Sano reached for her hand, drew her back down to the floor. “He’s in Ezogashima.”

  “Ezogashima?” Puzzled surprise arrested Reiko’s joy in midflight.

  “How in the world did he get there?” Midori asked.

  “Lord Matsudaira had him kidnapped.” Anger suffused Sano’s features. “That’s where he’s been taken.”

  As he elaborated, Reiko experienced two reactions that rushed upon her like waves coming from opposite directions. The first was gladness that her son was alive and she knew where. The second was horror that he was so far away, that such a thing had been done to him, that he was in terrible danger. She imagined Masahiro attacked by bandits on the highway or pirates at sea while he was under the dubious protection of Lord Matsudaira’s men, who would steal a little boy in order to further their master’s political aims.

  “You have to rescue him!” Reiko said, clutching at Sano.

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Sano said. “As soon as I can outfit a ship, I’ll sail for Ezogashima.”

  Reiko wasn’t satisfied. “I’m going with you.”

  Sano looked as if he’d expected this but was resistant. “That’s out of the question. There are serious problems in Ezogashima.” He described the breakdown in communication and the possible reasons. “It’s too dangerous for you to go.”

  “Not any more for me than for Masahiro,” Reiko said. Her maternal urge to be with her son overrode all concerns for her own safety.

  “It’s a difficult journey even at the best of times. The winters are harsh up north,” Sano warned.

  “I don’t care!”

  “I’ll bring him back. Trust me. You’ll be better off waiting here.”

  “For how long?” Impatience agitated Reiko. “A month? Two? Three?”

  “Under the circumstances, I can’t say,” Sano admitted. “Before I come back, I have to fix whatever’s wrong in Ezogashima, which could take more time than finding Masahiro.”

  “Then I can’t wait. I can’t just sit here wondering when you’ll be back.” The idea of such unendurable suspense! Reiko insisted, “I must go. I have to see Masahiro the moment you find him, not later. Besides, he’ll need me.”

  The baby in Sano’s arms let out a plaintive squeal. She’d noticed her parents ignoring her, and she didn’t l
ike it.

  “Akiko needs you,” Sano said. “You have to stay home.”

  As if she knew her mother wanted to leave her, Akiko started bawling again. Reiko felt stricken by guilt because she would abandon her daughter for the sake of her son. She loved them both with equal passion, yet her firstborn had the strongest claim on her heart. This shamed Reiko, but she couldn’t deny it.

  “I’ll take care of Akiko for you.” Midori gave Reiko a look of painful, understanding sympathy.

  Reiko remembered that Midori knew what it was like to have a husband go off without her, without a hint of when he might return. Hirata had been gone a year, with no word from him. Midori was offering to free Reiko so that at least one of them could be happy.

  “Thank you,” Reiko said with fervent gratitude, then turned to Sano. “If I don’t go, I might not live to welcome you and Masahiro home.”

  Their gazes met.

  Hers said she’d made up her mind.

  His appraised her frail body and said he wouldn’t argue, even though he was concerned about her safety, because he feared the wait would kill her.

  He slowly, reluctantly, nodded his assent.

  It took Sano eight days to locate a seaworthy vessel, bring it to Edo, and equip and man it. Now, on a bright, unseasonably warm morning, the war junk floated at dock on the Sumida River. Made of cedar, it had two masts with multiple white sails, a complex web of rigging, and banners bearing the Tokugawa triple-hollyhock-leaf crest. A dragon figurehead snarled. The deck bristled with cannons. Oars protruded from below deck, where rowers sat ready to propel the ship down the river to the sea. Detective Marume supervised porters lugging provisions up the gangplank. Sano’s other personal bodyguard, Detective Fukida, peered down from the crow’s nest at the two smaller ships that would carry troops and servants. The junk’s cabin was a house with a curved roof, like a miniature temple. Inside, Reiko paced amid bedding and chests of clothes. She peered out the window, eager to be off.

  She felt better than she had since Masahiro had disappeared. She breathed the heady air of hope that revived her appetite and strengthened her muscles. The wait was almost over. Restless with energy, she watched impatiently for Sano.

  He strode up the gangplank, accompanied by a man of such odd appearance that spectators gathered outside nearby warehouses pointed and laughed. Reiko recognized him as an acquaintance known as the Rat. He was short, with a thick, shaggy beard and mustache that were rare in Japan. He carried a bundle on his back. His feral face wore a look of misery.

  “The Rat doesn’t like Ezogashima even though it’s his native land,” he said. “That’s why I left. I hope you know what a big favor I’m doing you by coming along with you.”

  “Favor, nothing,” Sano said. “I’m paying you handsomely.”

  “As well you should,” the Rat said. “I’m the only one of my kind in town. Who else can serve as your guide and interpreter in Ezogashima?”

  The sailors hauled up the gangplank behind Sano and the Rat; they raised the anchor. Reiko’s heart beat fast while anticipation reverberated through her spirit. Soon she would be with Masahiro. The captain shouted to the rowers. From below deck rose their chanting as their oars propelled the junk away from the riverbank. The spectators waved and cheered.

  “Wait!”

  The cry came from the dock. Reiko saw a man running along it toward the ship. The two swords at his waist marked him as a samurai. His long, ungroomed hair, his worn cotton garments, and the pack on his back suggested that he was an itinerant rnin, a masterless warrior. At first Reiko wondered who he was and what he wanted. Then, as he neared her, she noticed his slight limp. She recognized his familiar features masked by whisker stubble. Exclaiming, she ran outside onto the deck, where Sano beheld the man in surprise.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Sano said.

  “Hirata-san!” Reiko called, waving at him.

  He reached the edge of the dock. The ship had moved some twenty paces out into the current, but Hirata took a running leap. He sprang higher, farther, than Reiko had thought possible. He landed crouched on the railing, then hopped aboard. Sano and Reiko laughed with pleasure as they welcomed their friend.

  “Don’t think I’m not glad to see you,” Sano said, “but what are you doing here?”

  “You called me,” Hirata said. He’d changed, Reiko observed; there was a new maturity and seriousness about him.

  “I did?” Sano said, puzzled.

  “Whether you meant to or not,” Hirata said. “By the way, where are we going?”

  “To Ezogashima,” Sano said as the fleet sailed down the river.

  Chapter Three

  For eleven days the fleet sailed north along the coast. The weather turned steadily colder. Sano, Reiko, Hirata, the detectives, and the Rat spent most of the journey in the cabin, huddled around charcoal braziers. The skies remained clear until they reached the Strait of Tsugaru, which separated barbarian territory from Japan proper. Dressed in quilted cloaks and boots, they stood on deck while falling snow obscured their first glimpse of Ezogashima’s coastline. Wind whipped the snow into swirls and howled around the ship.

  “I’ve never seen such a blizzard,” Sano said, as he and his companions hurried into the cabin.

  “Get used to it,” the Rat said glumly. “I hate to tell you, but you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Waves slammed the ship. It pitched and rolled, flinging everyone off balance. Wind blew the shutters in with violent snaps. Snow and spray exploded into the cabin. Outside, the sailors fought to hold the ship steady. The ocean topped the deck behind Hirata, the last one to enter. He shut the door against water that poured across the floor.

  “This ship had better not sink,” the Rat said. “I’m not a very good swimmer.”

  “We can’t sink!” Terrified, Reiko gripped Sano’s arm so tight that he felt her fingernails dig through his padded sleeve. “We have to rescue Masahiro.”

  Detective Marume struggled to close the shutters and fight off sliding baggage and furniture. “Merciful Buddha, if you’re not too busy, please save our miserable lives.”

  The rigging strained and creaked. Below deck, oarsmen screamed for help as water flooded them. Yells arose from the sailors: “Men overboard!” A sudden, enormous crash assailed the ship. Sano and Reiko catapulted forward, tumbling into the others. Everyone shouted in alarm. A crack like thunder preceded a loud scraping sound that rasped under them. The ship tossed wildly, then canted nose down and shuddered to a halt.

  “We’ve run aground!” Sano yelled.

  “Welcome to Ezogashima,” the Rat said. “Pretty soon you’ll understand why I never wanted to come back.”

  Sano heard his detectives muttering prayers of thanks and Reiko moaning in relief. He barely had time to be glad himself that they’d survived, before they all hastened out of the cabin. Snow fell in thick veils and had already coated the ship—or what was left of it.

  “Hey! Where’s the other half?” Marume exclaimed.

  The stern had broken off behind the cabin. Snowflakes blasted into Sano’s eyes as he looked out at the gray ocean, which was a mass of whitecaps, curtained by the blizzard, and empty as far as he could see. “Gone,” he said, “with the crew and the fleet.”

  No one could survive in that icy water. Sano’s heart ached for the many lives lost. And now he and his few comrades must face the trouble in Ezogashima alone.

  “Where are we?” Fukida asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Sano said. A snow-covered beach and forested slope stretched before them. The white terrain was barely distinguishable from the white sky. “We may have drifted off course from Fukuyama City.”

  He noticed the atmosphere darkening: Night came fast in the north. Now he had more pressing concerns than how he would find his son, solve the problems in Ezogashima, or return home afterward. “We’d better get off this wreck and find shelter before we freeze to death.”

  Everyone gathered a few possessio
ns, climbed over the railing, and splashed through the freezing shallows while the blizzard keened and tore at them. They huddled together on the beach. Sano turned to Reiko. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m better every moment.” Her face was red and pinched from the cold, but her smile shone with happiness. “We’re close to Masahiro. I know; I can feel him. Can’t you?”

  “Yes,” Sano said, although he only wished he could. What he felt was dire uncertainty about their prospects. Straining his eyes toward the forest, he said, “Maybe there’s a village up there. Let’s go.”

  Hirata led the way up the slope, outpacing his companions, barely conscious of the cold, the snow, or their predicament. From the moment he’d set foot in Ezogashima, he’d sensed an indefinable strangeness in the atmosphere. It vibrated with sounds at the edge of his range of hearing, like alien music. He perceived a soft yet powerful pulse emanating from the landscape. It resonated through him and called to some deep, uncharted place within him. He realized that this trip wasn’t an abandonment of his mystic martial arts studies but a continuation of his quest. Here he would find the enlightenment he sought.

  His master’s involuntary call for help had brought him to this land of his destiny.

  As he neared the forest of leafless oaks and birches, his nerves tingled alert to human presences other than those of his comrades behind him. Three figures suddenly emerged from between the trees, into the windswept snow. Hirata stopped in his tracks as the men blocked his path. He stared in amazement.

  They were the tallest men he’d ever seen; they stood half a head higher than Detective Marume, the biggest man in his group. Coats and leggings made of animal skins clothed their strong physiques. Geometric patterns with curves, spirals, and cusps decorated their hems, sleeve edges, and neck bands. Thick fur that trimmed their mittens, covered the calves of their fish-skin boots, and lined their leather hoods gave them a bestial aspect. They were obviously not Japanese. They must be Ezo, northern barbarians.