The Incense Game si-16 Read online

  Ogyu shouted, “She’s getting away! Catch her!”

  His men ran along the dividers. The lanterns they carried flashed light over Reiko. Angling through rows of compartments, she felt like a mouse she’d once seen in a maze at the Ry o goku Bridge entertainment district.

  “There she is!” Jagged Teeth called.

  He jumped down and seized her. She writhed and fought, but two other men joined him. They boosted her up onto the gangway, carried her to the stage, and dumped her at Minister Ogyu’s feet. While Reiko lay gasping, Ogyu merely glanced at her. He seemed devoid of emotion now that she was captured. Winsome Smile and another man held Korin by his arms.

  “Why are you doing this?” Korin struggled and kicked. “What do you want with me? Or her?” He jerked his chin at Reiko.

  “You lured her here,” Minister Ogyu said.

  “What?” Surprise halted Korin’s struggles. “It wasn’t me who brought her.”

  “It was you.” Minister Ogyu spoke in a quiet monotone that was more frightening to Reiko than any angry threat. “Because she knows you poisoned Madam Usugumo and Lord Hosokawa’s daughters.”

  “I didn’t poison anybody!” Korin cried.

  “You lured her here to kill her,” Minister Ogyu said. “So that she can’t tell her husband or Lord Hosokawa that you’re guilty and you won’t be put to death.”

  “I’m not guilty! I don’t want to kill anyone! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Comprehension stunned Reiko. Minister Ogyu meant to settle the blame for the poisonings on Korin. He’d also solved the problem of how to eliminate her and avoid the consequences. He was going to frame Korin for her murder.

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  “My husband will never believe Korin lured me to this theater and killed me,” Reiko told Minister Ogyu.

  “Yes, listen to her, she’s right,” Korin said, trying to break free of Ogyu’s men. Anxiety shone in his swollen eyes. “Chamberlain Sano came to talk to me in jail. He doesn’t think I poisoned those women. If he did, he’d have put me to death already.”

  “He’ll believe it when he sees the letter,” Minister Ogyu said in that same chilling monotone.

  “What letter?” Korin shook his head, as if trying to waken himself from a nightmare.

  Jagged Teeth walked across the stage and gave Minister Ogyu an old playbill and a stick of the charcoal that actors used for makeup. Minister Ogyu knelt, spread the playbill on the table, wrote with the charcoal stick, then and read aloud, “‘To Lady Reiko: I have information about Madam Usugumo’s murder. If you want it, come to the Nakamura-za Theater alone. Don’t tell anybody. Signed, Korin.’”

  Reiko was amazed at his ability to make up a scenario as he went along. But his scenario had glaring faults. “My husband will never believe I would follow those instructions.”

  “When he finds the letter by your body, he’ll have to believe it,” Minister Ogyu said.

  “How will he find me?” Reiko asked, incredulous. “Why would he think to look here?”

  “An anonymous tip will do.”

  “He knows I was going to see your nurse,” Reiko said. “I told him. Besides, I didn’t go out alone. His guards saw me leave with my escorts. And my palanquin bearers are waiting for me at the landslide. They’ll tell my husband where I was.”

  “Going to see my nurse was just a pretext,” Minister Ogyu said. “You left your bearers and walked to the theater district.”

  “How will you explain away Kasane’s murder?”

  “I won’t need to. He’ll assume you never got to her house. He won’t bother looking there.”

  “But he’ll discover that my guards are missing.” Reiko felt as if she were pushing against a stone that kept rolling in the wrong direction no matter what she did. Minister Ogyu seemed impervious to reason. “He’ll figure it had something to do with what happened to me. He’ll send out search parties. When their bodies are found, he’ll know I was at Kasane’s house. He’ll know you followed me and took me.”

  “The bodies are unrecognizable. They’ll be taken for bandits who broke into Kasane’s house, murdered her, then fought over the loot and killed one another.”

  “If they did that, then who cut their faces?” Reiko said. “And where did their weapons go?”

  Minister Ogyu’s calm silence said he’d decided to ignore any inconsistencies in his scenario.

  “Hey, excuse me, I couldn’t have written that letter,” Korin chimed in. “I don’t know how to write.”

  “You hired a scribe,” Minister Ogyu said.

  Korin glared. “You have an answer for just about everything, don’t you? Well, answer this: How are you going to make me kill her? Because I won’t.”

  Minister Ogyu rose. “You laid in wait for her.” He walked to the center of the stage and stood facing the door. “She arrived.” His gaze tracked Reiko’s imaginary progress down the gangway and onto the stage. “She said, ‘What did you want to tell me?’ And you attacked her.”

  “With this.” Jagged Teeth held up a wooden club, a prop from a play, studded with iron spikes.

  “I’m not doing it,” Korin declared.

  “But Lady Reiko suspected a trap,” Minister Ogyu said. “She came alone but not unarmed.” He extended his hand. Winsome Smile gave him Reiko’s dagger. “She fought back. You killed her, but she wounded you so seriously that you died, too.”

  He advanced on Korin. Korin yelled, “Hey!” He scuffled his feet backward, but Minister Ogyu’s men held him in place.

  Reiko desperately worked her ankles against the rope. Her skin was raw. The loop widened. Minister Ogyu swiped at Korin. The dagger cut Korin’s chest. “Stop!” Korin screamed while Minister Ogyu cut his torso, again and again. Blood trickled onto the stage. His clothes hung in tatters.

  Gasping, Reiko tugged at the frayed rope around her wrists. It wouldn’t break. The men released Korin. He flung up his hands, and Minister Ogyu slashed them. Screaming, he tried to run, but the men shoved him at Ogyu, who worked with deliberate concentration, as if he were cutting wood instead of flesh. The blade carved deep into Korin’s thigh. He fell to his knees, clutching at the wound, from which blood spurted. His screams faded to mewling.

  “Help,” he whispered, collapsing on his side. He stretched a blood-drenched hand out to Reiko. His expression went slack.

  Minister Ogyu carefully laid the dagger on the stage. Moving toward Reiko, he took the spiked club from Winsome Smile. His eyes were empty sockets drained of humanity. There was no use pleading with him. Reiko wriggled backward. He raised the club over his head. He swung it down.

  Reiko rolled. The club bashed the stage with a resounding thud. He hauled it back for another swing. Reiko kicked at him. Her feet hit his knee. He stumbled backward. Reiko yanked her right foot out of the rope. Rising, she staggered; her muscles were stiff. One of Ogyu’s men hurried to block the gangway. The others gathered behind her. Ogyu raised the club and advanced on her. His face was like a wax mask, soft but unanimated by emotion.

  Caught between him and his men, Reiko ran at Minister Ogyu. He hadn’t expected that; he faltered. Before he could hit her, she clasped her tied hands into a tight lump of knuckles. She lowered them to thrust them upward at his groin, but in a split instant corrected her error and swung at his chest. Her knuckles connected with soft flesh flattened by wrappings under his clothes. Minister Ogyu screamed. It was a woman’s scream, shrill and piercing. He dropped the club and clutched his wounded breast.

  Reiko ran past him. His men yelled and chased her. She jumped off the edge of the stage, onto the nearest divider. It was narrower than her foot. She’d seen refreshment sellers scamper nimbly along the dividers, carrying baskets of snacks, but she teetered as she ran. With her hands tied, she could hardly keep her balance. Ogyu’s men ran onto the dividers, which shook under their steps. Reiko almost fell off before she reached the mounded debris in the center of the theater. As she loped over it, jutting boards tore off her shoes. Sha
rp roof tiles pierced her feet through her socks. The men were close behind her. Clear of the debris pile, she teetered down a divider. The back wall of the theater loomed. Her heart juddered. Where was the door?

  She jumped off the divider, into a passage that extended along the back of the theater. She spied a narrow crack in the wall, at the bottom, where two panels had buckled apart. She dropped to the floor and squeezed into the crack just as the men landed in the passage. On the other side was darkness. While she wriggled through the crack, a hand grabbed her ankle. Reiko kicked and pulled. Her sock slid off in the man’s hand. She was free.

  Inside the theater, Minister Ogyu shouted, “Bring her back here!” Reiko heard the men racing for the door. Rising, she found herself in an alley between the theater and a row of teahouses whose walls leaned together like cards stood on end. She ran.

  “Wait.” Sano halted his troops in the street where they were riding between houses whose shattered roofs rested atop flattened walls. “Did you hear that?”

  Faint screams drifted across the night. They struck hope and dread into Sano. Here at last was a sign of life, a clue to Reiko’s whereabouts but also evidence of violence in progress.

  “It’s coming from over there.” Marume pointed in the direction of the main street.

  As Sano and his men galloped through the theater district, ruins forced them to detour farther from the noise instead of closer. Sano leaped off his horse. His troops followed suit, detaching the poles from their backs, flinging the poles aside. They carried the lanterns as they and Sano and Marume ran. Vertigo tilted the street under Sano’s feet. His head pounded with every step. The light from the lanterns glanced off walls that seemed to undulate. He reeled. Marume caught his arm, kept him running. The screams were louder now; they had a masculine harshness. They abruptly stopped. Sano and his men raced up an alley, lined with collapsed buildings, that joined the main street. One building had fallen across the exit. Ready to backtrack and find a clear path, Sano heard another, different scream.

  It was high-pitched, a woman’s.

  Terror spiked through Sano like a vein of lightning. The breath rushed from his lungs in a whisper: “Reiko.”

  He flung himself at the wreckage and climbed. His hands gripped splintered beams; slivers pierced his fingers. He crawled over broken planks and jagged tiles that cut his knees. He and his men slid down the other side on a spill of plaster fragments. Clambering to his feet, he swayed. His men moved their lanterns in arcs, illuminating what remained of Saru-waka-cho, Edo’s great dramatic arts center. All the theaters had collapsed except one, some fifty paces down the street.

  “They must be in there.” Clinging to the hope that Reiko was still alive, Sano signaled his men to be quiet as they all hurried toward the theater.

  Six horses were tied to poles outside that supported vertical banners advertising the last play performed. But there was no sign of Minister Ogyu or his troops. The building leaned toward the street, its sides inward. Posters fallen off the upper stories lay on the ground with the lattice partitions that had once enclosed the entryway. Sano heard shouts coming from beyond the building. The doorway gaped. Flame-light glimmered from within. Drawing their swords, Sano and his men cautiously entered.

  The middle of the theater’s roof had fallen in. Debris covered most of the seating area. The space appeared deserted. The light came from a lantern on a stand on the stage, which was furnished like a room in a mansion. There lay a crumpled figure. Sano’s heart seized. He climbed onto the gangway, ran to the figure, and knelt. A steaming red puddle of blood surrounded it. Sano touched wavy hair. He saw a familiar, bruised male face.

  “That’s Korin.” Marume crouched beside Sano. “What’s he doing here?”

  Sano had no time to think about that. He felt only a fleeting relief at discovering that the corpse wasn’t his wife. “Where is Reiko?”

  Shouts came from outside the theater. The night echoed with the sound of running footsteps.

  As Reiko ran, her lungs heaved rapid breaths. Her bound hands swung from side to side. It was so dark she couldn’t see where she was going. Ruins hemmed her in like mountain ranges whose valleys the moonlight barely penetrated. Reflected glimmers in puddles were all she could discern of the ground.

  Jagged Teeth shouted, “I hear something over there!”

  Light flared at the end of the alley. Reiko dove sideways onto a debris pile. She burrowed under boards and lay, holding her breath, while Ogyu’s men stampeded past her. She crawled out and ran, veering around corners. Her lungs couldn’t draw enough air. Her feet were sore, frozen lumps that tripped on themselves; her knees knocked. She paused to rest and get her bearings. Which way was Edo Castle? The familiar landmarks were gone. Panting, Reiko looked up at the sky. She didn’t recognize any constellations.

  Footsteps pelted. Shouts came from everywhere. A man raced toward her, waving a lantern, calling, “There she is!”

  Turning to flee, Reiko heard someone else yell, “We’ve got her!” and saw two men charging at her from the opposite direction. She ran to the next block and turned the corner. A crushed gate blocked an alley. Reiko crawled through the narrow space between the gate’s portals and roof. She hobbled along the alley, which was strewn with soggy paper lanterns from fallen teahouses.

  “Go around! Head her off!” Minister Ogyu’s men shouted.

  Reiko emerged onto the main street. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt ready to burst. Fatigue dragged her toward the ground. To her right and left, theaters had collapsed. Directly across the street was one that hadn’t. In front stood six horses and Minister Ogyu. She’d ended up back where she’d started.

  Ogyu was looking the other way, listening to his men search for her. Before she could muster the energy to move, her attention drew his. He turned. Their gazes met. Panic infused Reiko with strength. She ran down the street while her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her tied hands unbalanced her, and her legs wobbled. In a rampage, Minister Ogyu charged after her, calling his men. She could hear his heavy footfalls and breathing. His presence gained on her, like flames raking her back. Her frantic energy flagged. In a moment she wouldn’t be able to run anymore.

  Steel rasped: Minister Ogyu had drawn his sword.

  Reiko uttered a cry of despair.

  The cry hit Sano like an arrow that had flown across countless dimensions, through all obstacles, and pierced deep into his spirit.

  He burst into the alley that extended alongside the theater. He turned a corner and raced up the main street, his troops following. He saw a figure running toward him through the darkness, heard footsteps and gasps. Reiko burst into the light cast by his men’s lanterns. She lurched and tripped as she ran. Her eyes were wild with terror, her mouth open, her hands clasped as if in prayer.

  “Reiko!” Sano was within twenty paces of her when he spied Minister Ogyu behind her. Ogyu ran clutching his sword. His soft body jiggled. His expression married helplessness with resolve. Desperate, Sano tried to run faster. Exhaustion, dizziness, and pain slowed him. Reiko saw him and shouted his name. She stumbled. Ten paces separated them. Sano saw that her wrists were bound. His troops raced ahead of him, but Ogyu caught up with Reiko first.

  Ogyu raised his sword and slashed Reiko down her back.

  Reiko screamed. Horror widened her eyes. Her body stiffened; her back arched. Her feet sprang off the ground in one last, futile attempt to escape. She fell forward and crashed flat onto the street. A roar of anguish and rage exploded from Sano.

  Minister Ogyu staggered to a halt behind Reiko’s body. His face registered dismay as he noticed Sano and the troops. He called, “Help!” His own men came running.

  Sano drew his sword and in the same motion sliced Ogyu across the neck. Ogyu’s face contorted, as if to howl, the instant before his head separated from his body. Blood sprayed. Ogyu’s body crumpled. His head landed beside it. Sano barely noticed. Moaning, he knelt beside Reiko.

  She lay with her neck twisted an
d her cheek against the dirty street. Sano frantically tore at her robes, which Ogyu’s blade had slit down her back. Marume held the lantern over Reiko. Warm blood smeared Sano’s fingers. Reiko’s open eyes were blank, her lips parted. She didn’t move. Sano threw back his head and bellowed, “No!”

  It didn’t matter that he’d delivered a murderer to justice, that he’d successfully finished an investigation upon which the peace of Japan depended. He’d let his beloved wife die. A huge sob erupted from the depths of his spirit. He was barely aware of his troops fighting Ogyu’s. Grief consumed him, so vast, raw, and agonizing that he felt as if it were rending his body apart from inside.

  Reiko’s back twitched under his hand.

  A gasp of shock choked off his sob. Sano looked down at Reiko. Her eyes blinked. Murmuring his name, she struggled to sit up. Her movements stretched the slit in her robes, exposing the wound. It was shallow, minor.

  Grief transformed into a joy so brilliant that Sano felt as if dawn had prematurely banished the night. He lifted Reiko, hugged her to him, and wept, heedless of Minister Ogyu’s corpse, of the battle raging around them. Reiko rested against Sano, sighed with relief, then squirmed out of his embrace. She muttered, incoherent and distraught, as she jerked at the ropes around her wrists.

  Sano broke the ropes, freeing her. “It’s all right now. You’re safe.”

  “The baby!” Reiko clutched her stomach.

  Confused, Sano said, “What baby?” He looked around at the battle and the ruins, wondering how there could be an infant mixed up in this.

  Sano heard Marume laugh for the first time since Fukida’s death. “I think she’s telling you that she’s with child.”

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