The practiced quality of her voice indicated that she had recited this speech many times before. Its unctuous tone told Sano that she, like other religious leaders, was anxious to curry favor with members of the warrior class, who supported their temples.
“Now the Temple of Kannon is sanctuary to twenty nuns who have forsaken earthly life to seek spiritual enlightenment. If you accompany me, I will tell you about the images that you see here.
Sano bowed. “Forgive me, Abbess, but I am not here on a pilgrimage. I’ve come to see one of your nuns, Miss Niu Midori.” He identified himself, saying, “I apologize for the intrusion, but this is a matter of utmost importance.”
“I am afraid that is impossible.” The abbess’s voice lost its unctuousness, turning cold. “As I have already said, our nuns have forsaken the world and its concerns. They shun contact with those from the outside. Our novices, in particular, are subject to the strictest seclusion. You cannot see Miss Midori now, or ever. I regret that you have come all this way for nothing.”
It was a dismissal, delivered with finality. Sano’s already flagging spirits sagged lower.
“Please, Abbess,” he said. “I promise I will not stay long with her, or interfere with her faith.” Had she received orders from Lady Niu to shield Midori from all visitors, or him in particular? He’d seen no recognition on her face when he’d given his name. “I just want to speak with her alone for a few moments. Nothing more.
“And afterward,” he added, “I would like to make a small gift to the Temple of Kannon.” The clergy, he knew, were always eager for donations.
Instead of replying, the abbess turned from him and clapped her hands twice. The door flew open. Two orange-robed priests entered the halclass="underline" tall, muscular men carrying long, curved spears.
“Good day, master,” the abbess said. “May the Buddha in all his divine mercy grant you a safe journey home.”
Sano had no choice but to let the priests escort him outside. He was familiar with the legendary fighting skills of the mountain priests, who had warred against each other and the ruling clans for hundreds of years. When he tried to bribe them into letting him see Midori, they remained mute and unresponsive to his pleas, their faces stony. They saw him as far as the gate, then stood watching as he descended the path.
Once out of their sight, Sano flung down his staff. He dropped to his knees, staring down over the treetops at the village and lake. He tried to summon the strength to descend the mountainside. Soon night would fall; the air had already grown chillier with the dying day. If he waited too long, he might get hurt trying to negotiate the treacherous path in darkness, or lose his way and freeze to death. But despair, combined with exhaustion, held him immobile. This journey had come to nothing; Tsunehiko had died for nothing. He was no closer to unraveling the mystery of Noriyoshi’s and Yukiko’s deaths than when he’d left Edo. How could he live with his failure and the tragic consequences of his actions?
Stand up, Sano told himself. Pick up your staff, put one foot in front of the other, and…
His head whipped around at the sound of running footsteps coming from the temple grounds above him. The priests. Hand on his sword, he leaped to his feet, driven by the samurai instinct to stand and fight. Then common sense reminded him that there were at least two priests and only one of him. If he wanted to live, he’d best leave now, before they found him. Seizing his staff, he hurried down the path.
“Yoriki! Wait!”
The high female voice stopped Sano in his tracks. He turned and saw a small figure skidding down the path toward him. Reaching him, she stumbled and would have fallen had he not caught her. He stared at her in shock.
It was Midori, although he barely recognized her. Instead of a bright silk kimono, she wore a coarse, shapeless hemp robe. Bare feet peeped out from beneath its hem. She seemed smaller, as if she’d lost weight. Her face was thin, pale, and peaked, her lips chapped. Most shocking of all, her head had been shaved. Only a bluish tinge on her bare scalp remained of her long black hair.
Between gasps, she said, “… saw you from the nuns’ dormitory… ” One hand went to her heaving breast. “… climbed out the window… couldn’t let you go without telling you… ”
“Calm down, it’s all right,” Sano said. He drew her off the path and seated her on a fallen log. She was shivering in her thin robe, so he took off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. Then he waited with rising anticipation for her to catch her breath. At last he would possess the information for which he’d traveled so far and paid so dearly.
But when she spoke, it wasn’t about her sister or Noriyoshi. “I hate this place!” she cried passionately, beating her fists against the log. “Cooking and scrubbing floors and praying from dawn till sunset. Then a few hours’ sleep on a hard straw bed before that awful bell wakes me up and the whole thing starts all over again.”
Tears brightened her eyes. “If I have to stay here any longer, I’ll die. Please, take me away with you!”
Pity welled inside Sano as he shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he said. Although his refusal might turn her against him, he had to tell her the truth.
Midori sighed, accepting his words with averted head and slumped shoulders. “I know you can’t,” she said sorrowfully. Her hand went up as if to stroke her hair, then jerked back as it touched bare scalp. “My father’s men would hunt us down. They would cut off your head and bring me back here. I shouldn’t have asked. Forgive me.”
“Can you tell me how you happened to come here?” Sano asked. He didn’t want to set off another outburst by mentioning her sister’s death right away, and he wanted the story in her own words, uninfluenced by his own expectations.
“My stepmother is punishing me.” Now Midori’s eyes glittered with anger. “I hate her! If I ever see her again, I’ll kill her. I’ll get a sword and cut her a hundred times. Like this!” Wielding an imaginary sword, she slashed at the air. “I don’t want to be a nun. I want to live in Edo and go to parties and the theater. I want my sisters, and my pretty clothes, and my dolls, and, oh…!” She burst into wild sobs, hiding her face in her hands.
“Has your father no say in the matter?” Sano asked. He knew that many men cared little about their daughters’ happiness, but he wouldn’t have expected Lord Niu to give one up to the clergy so easily. He had more to gain from marrying Midori off to a son of another important clan. This way he lost the chance to cement a political alliance and had to pay a dowry to the temple.
Midori raised her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I hardly ever see my father. Besides, he lets my stepmother run the household as she pleases. Just like he lets my older brothers run his province. The servants say he can’t think for himself anymore. His mind isn’t right, and it gets worse every year, they say.”
Sano suddenly remembered the Little Daimyo’s other nickname: the Crazy Little Daimyo. He’d heard rumors of bizarre happenings in Satsuma Province: Lord Niu’s wild parties, and his howling rages, when he would gallop his horse around the castle grounds, hacking viciously with his sword at anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way. If, as Midori said, Lord Niu’s authority had passed to his wife, it would explain Lady Niu’s unusual power. Sano wondered if anyone else in the family shared Lord Niu’s violent disposition. Perhaps the young Masahito, who resembled him physically? But Yukiko’s, Noriyoshi’s, and Tsunehiko’s murders bespoke a different kind of mentality: sane and calculating.
“What are you being punished for?” he prompted Midori, guiding the conversation away from this interesting but secondary subject.
“For disobeying my stepmother’s orders by going into Yukiko’s room. For talking to you-and to make sure I never talked to you again.”