"The man hit your face, didn't he?" Reiko said. Although loath to make Fumiko dwell on bad experiences, she must probe the girl's memory for information about the criminal.
Fumiko touched her bruised eye. "No. My father did. He said I led the man on. He said I disgraced myself and our clan."
Here was the most tragic similarity between her story and Chiyo's. Both women had suffered insult heaped upon injury.
"I begged him to forgive me," Fumiko said. Tears trembled beneath her gruff, sullen manner. "I offered to cut off my finger." She added, "That's how we make it up to my father when we've done something wrong."
Reiko had known about the gangsters' rule, but the idea that a little girl should take it for granted was shocking.
"But my father wouldn't listen," Fumiko said. "He threw me out."
At that moment Reiko hated Fumiko's father, and Chiyo's husband, as much as she hated the man-or men-who'd assaulted the women. "I'm sorry about what happened to you. It wasn't your fault, no matter what anybody says. You're a brave, good girl. And I want you to know that my husband will catch the man who hurt you."
But even as she spoke, Reiko remembered that Sano's objective was to punish the man who'd kidnapped and raped his cousin. If a different man had kidnapped Fumiko, would Sano avenge her? He had enough else to do. Reiko made a private vow that if Sano didn't deliver Fumiko's rapist to justice, then she herself would. In the meantime, she could offer Fumiko other assistance.
"For now, you're coming with me," she said, then called to her bearers, "Let's go."
They hoisted the beams of the palanquin to their shoulders. As the vehicle began moving, Fumiko looked aghast. "Go where?"
"To my house," Reiko said, "inside Edo Castle."
"I can't!" Fumiko protested.
Reiko thought the girl must be afraid of a strange place. "Yes, you can," she said soothingly. "I'll give you as much food as you want, clean clothes, and a nice place to sleep. You'll be quite comfortable."
"Please stop," Fumiko said as the bearers carried her and Reiko past the market stalls. "I can't leave!"
Bewildered, Reiko said, "Here you have to sleep outdoors; you have to eat garbage. Why do you want to stay?"
"My father knows I'm here." Fumiko was frantic. "His gangsters have seen me. If I go someplace else, he won't be able to find me."
"Why would he want to?" Reiko asked. "He threw you out."
"After he thinks I've been punished enough, he'll take me back." Fumiko sounded desperate to believe it.
"I'll send word to your father that you're at my house, so he'll know to look for you there."
"He might not like that. He might get even angrier."
"You were just attacked by dogs," Reiko reminded Fumiko. "You might not be saved next time. You might not survive until your father decides to bring you home."
Fumiko flapped her hands, as if to ward off Reiko's logic. "I'm not going with you! Here is where I belong!"
She picked up the empty lunchbox and hurled it at Reiko. Reiko flung up her arms. Fumiko bounded out the door.
"Wait!" Reiko cried. "Fumiko, stop!"
The girl ran away into the marketplace, where the throngs absorbed her. Lieutenant Tanuma called, "Should I go after her, Lady Reiko?"
"No, don't."
Sighing, Reiko closed the door of the palanquin. She wouldn't force Fumiko to accept shelter against her will. Perhaps Fumiko was right in her belief that Jirocho would relent, and when he came to fetch her, she had better be here, or he would change his mind. Reiko didn't understand gangsters well enough to know otherwise. And she had another task to perform for Sano.
"Take me to the Keiaiji Convent," she called to her escorts. "Maybe I'll have better luck with the nun."
Chamberlain Yanagisawa's estate was one of many inside the quarter within Edo Castle where the shogun's top officials lived. Guards opened its gate, and out came Yanagisawa, his son Yoritomo, and their guards, all on horse back. Clad in rain hats and capes, they rode down the street amid mounted soldiers going in the same direction.
One soldier wasn't really a soldier. The face under his helmet belonged to Toda Ikkyu. As he followed Yanagisawa and Yoritomo, they didn't notice him. Neither they nor Toda noticed the boy riding a pony, trailing in their wake.
Masahiro wore, in addition to the rain cape and hat that hid his face and clothes, a flag bearing the Tokugawa crest on a pole attached to his back. He carried a leather sack of bamboo scroll containers. The flag, sack, and scrolls were the standard equipment of messenger boys. He'd borrowed them from Father's office. He hoped Father wouldn't mind. The scroll containers were empty; they were part of his disguise.
He'd gotten the idea for the disguise from Mother. She sometimes dressed as a servant, the better to avoid attention when she went out investigating. Masahiro had also taken a hint from the spy who'd come to visit Father last night. Under the scrolls in his sack were a spare hat and jacket.
As he trailed Yanagisawa, Yoritomo, and their procession along the stone-walled passages that wound downhill through the castle, his heart beat fast with excitement. This was his first day as a real detective. He meant to find out what Yanagisawa was up to.
The procession stopped at a checkpoint, two gates that led in and out of a square enclosure designed to trap invading enemies during war. In peacetime, the guards merely eyed the folks who came by and let them pass. Yanagisawa rode through with his party. Masahiro waited impatiently, stuck behind the people who blocked his view. He mustn't lose track of Yanagisawa. He worried about whether his disguise would pass inspection. Would the guards notice that he was too young to be a messenger? He drew himself up to his full height, held his breath, and silently prayed.
The guards let him through without a second glance. Relieved, Masahiro hurriedly rode after Yanagisawa. But as they approached the castle's main gate, he felt serious qualms.
He'd never gone outside the castle by himself. Father and Mother said it was too dangerous. He didn't want to admit that he was afraid to go out, but he was. The city was a big place filled with scary people. Masahiro carried a dagger hidden beneath his cape, but what if he got attacked by someone too big and strong for him to fight? He also worried about what would happen when Father and Mother found out he'd broken their rule.
Ahead loomed the gate. Masahiro saw Yanagisawa's procession riding through the portals. What should he do?
He drew a deep breath for courage and followed Yanagisawa.
Tonight, when he told Father and Mother what he'd learned about Yanagisawa, they would be so proud of him that they wouldn't be angry.
Inside the bedchamber at the convent, two novices held the nun Tengu-in, who sat on a futon atop a wooden pallet. Another novice spooned miso soup into her mouth. The old woman struggled weakly, spat, and whispered prayers.
"It won't do you any good to talk to her," the abbess said, standing in the doorway with Reiko. "See for yourself."
Reiko watched with dismay as Tengu-in coughed and retched, while the novices poured water into her. The force-feeding seemed like torture, but it had probably kept the old nun alive. "I must try," Reiko said.
She walked toward Tengu-in across the big room where the other nuns slept at night on the pallets laid out in a row. The abbess and the novices bowed and left. Tengu-in lay on her bed, eyes closed, exhausted. In the misty daylight that shone through the paper windowpanes she looked like a corpse. Her face was sunken, her skin so thin that the spidery blue veins pulsed through it on her bare scalp. Her skeletal hands clutched a rosary of round, brown jade beads strung on a thick leather cord.
"Tengu-in?" Reiko said, kneeling beside her. "Can you hear me?"
The nun's lips formed silent prayers. Her fingers counted beads. Chiyo and Fumiko seemed well off compared to her. At least they were more physically and mentally sound, no matter how they'd been treated.
"I'm sorry to bother you," Reiko said, "but my husband sent me to talk to you. He's Chamberlain Sano. He came here yesterday. Do you remember?"