“I’ll kill you!” Tomohito howled.
“Stop!” Sano dragged Tomohito away from the prince, fearful that Momozono would turn against his cousin for failing to appreciate what he’d done. Sano considered slaying the prince, whose crimes merited the death penalty, but he abhorred killing and hoped to arrest Momozono without violence.
On his knees, head tossing, Momozono cried, “If the revolt w-were to succeed and L-left Minister Konoe seize power, h-he would have exiled me, the way he tried to years ago. Were it to f-fail, Your Majesty would have b-been executed. And what w-would have happened to m-me then?”
“Who cares about you?” Tomohito demanded, trying to maneuver around Sano so he could get at the prince.
Selfishness was at the heart of every murderer’s motive, Sano knew. Momozono had acted on the emperor’s behalf, but he’d also been defending his own precarious position. He, of all the suspects, had the most to gain by Konoe’s death and the most to lose by either his victory or defeat in a war with the Tokugawa. Only one question remained.
“Why did you kill again?” Sano asked the prince.
“I g-got the message that you were coming to the p-palace. I w-went to kill you so Lady Asagao would be f-freed and you wouldn’t discover the c-conspiracy. On my way, I c-came upon four s-samurai, walking through the palace g-grounds. I heard them t-talking. A man with a drawling voice was p-praising the leader for framing L-lady Asagao and forcing her to confess.”
Aisu and Yanagisawa and their guards, Sano thought.
“I r-realized that they were r-responsible for her arrest. They w-went on talking, and it was clear th-that they wanted to w-watch me kill you, then arrest me. It was a trap!” Momozono went into a fit of facial contortions. “I h-had to do what I’d set out to do, but I couldn’t let them c-catch me. So I went after them. Two of the m-men ran away. I k-killed the one with the drawling v-voice and trapped the 1-leader. But then I heard you c-coming. I couldn’t recover my strength quickly enough to s-scream again, so I ran away.”
A chance encounter had resulted in Aisu’s death, Sano realized, and spared his own life. If he was clever enough, fortune might favor him again.
“I commend your loyalty to His Majesty, and I understand what a terrible ordeal you’ve been through,” Sano said gently, while he sought a way to persuade Momozono to surrender himself and the emperor. What kind of favorable terms could he offer a confessed murderer? “Let’s go back to the palace where you can rest, and-”
With an effort that ripped a yell from him, the prince stood. Distress clouded the twitching muscles of his face as he said to Sano, “You treated me with m-more respect than anyone else ever has. For that I offer you my humble th-thanks. But I c-can’t let you take His M-Majesty, so I must kill you, too.”
“Wait,” Sano said, though fearfully aware that his luck had failed him. He appealed to the emperor, who stood staring at Momozono in panting fury. “Your cousin is dangerous. We have to go. Please come with me.”
“No!” Tomohito lunged at Momozono again. When Sano caught him and tried to lead him away, he tore free, cursing.
Hysterical frenzy besieged Momozono. His shrieks echoed across the hills. His face contorted, while his arms and legs flailed in a bizarre dance. Then he threw back his head and clenched his jaws. The frenzy waned, leaving Momozono eerily silent and still. His manic energy, now harnessed, emanated from him in a pale aura that absorbed the sounds of battle and distant gongs.
An ominous, familiar tension tingled the air around Sano. Its soundless vibration pulsed through him. Sudden lassitude weakened him. He reached for the long sword at his waist, but his arm moved sluggishly, as if he were dragging it through water. His spirit recoiled from the ghostly, sinister touch of Momozono’s will. Realization startled him. Contrary to popular wisdom, the power of kiai wasn’t always the product of rigorous martial arts training. In Momozono’s case, it was a symptom of his mysterious affliction. An accident of fate had made him an outcast and granted him the ultimate deadly weapon. He must have practiced his skill on those birds found dead in the palace gardens.
“What are you doing, Momo-chan?” the emperor asked. A queasy expression came over his face. “It’s scaring me. What’s that noise? Where’s that light coming from? I order you to stop!”
“My apologies, Your Majesty.” Prince Momozono had shed his stammer along with his tics; his voice was clear, steady, and full of regret. “There’s no other way. He knows 1 killed two men. He knows you were a willing participant in the rebellion. He has to die.”
Sano’s fingers, grown thick and clumsy, fumbled his sword from its scabbard. The weapon seemed a hundred times heavier than usual, and Sano’s hand too weak to bear the weight. The sword fell. The debilitating force radiating from Momozono dropped Sano to his knees; his fear turned to terror; his wish to serve justice gave way to the need to save his life.
“There’s no reason to kill me,” he choked out. “Left Minister Konoe was a traitor. By killing him, you demonstrated loyalty to the Tokugawa regime. The shogun will spare you the death sentence, maybe even pardon you altogether.”
Momozono shook his head sadly. “Anyone with a power like mine would never be allowed to live. But I don’t really care if I die. It’s His Majesty I must protect. I can’t let you capture him and execute him as a traitor.”
“The emperor isn’t responsible for the plot,” Sano hastened to say. Keeping Momozono talking would prevent him from gathering the breath he would need for a spirit cry. “The bakufu will make allowances for his age and Left Minister Konoe’s influence over him. They won’t want a scandal, or a breach with the Imperial Court. If His Majesty repents, he won’t be punished.”
“Yes, I repent,” cried Emperor Tomohito. “I’ll never be bad again. Just stop, Momo-chan!” Backing away from his cousin, he stumbled, fell, then crawled between pillars toward the door of the temple hall. “Help! Somebody, please!”
As hot waves of panic coursed through him, and his heart pounded with accelerating thuds, Sano recalled a classic ritual practiced by ancient samurai in wartime: kugi goshin-ho, annihilating the forces of evil by evoking the nine magic ideographs. He closed his hands, then released the index fingers, pressing the tips together near his breast.
“Kin! Kin! Kin!” he chanted.
To his relief, he felt a slight relaxing of the tension. The heat in his blood began to subside; his heartbeat slowed.
“I’m not stupid enough to think His Majesty will be forgiven,” Momozono said bitterly. “If I claim that Left Minister Konoe was to blame for the revolt, who will believe me? That’s why I killed him. Can you picture me telling the bakufu that he was planning a coup?” The aura around Momozono brightened; the energy pulsed with quickening intensity. “I’d have been mocked and dismissed.”
“But I believe you. I’ll convince my superiors.” Assailed by Momozono’s invisible force, Sano fell back on his heels. With a huge effort, he brought his fingertips together, gasping, “Sha! Sha! Sha!” Even though the physical relief was minimal, renewed courage flared in him.
“I can see that you’re sincere,” Momozono said, “but if you think your support of my word will save His Majesty, you’re more of an idiot than I am.”
In desperation, Sano argued, “Have you thought about what will happen if you kill me? Without me to persuade the bakufu that His Majesty is innocent, he’ll be condemned for treason. My detectives will come when they hear your scream. They’ll find my corpse, and they’ll catch you. You can’t buy your freedom, or the emperor’s, with my death.”
Momozono’s expression disdained this scenario. “His Majesty will tell the bakufu that the outlaws abducted us from the palace and brought us here. You attacked His Majesty because you thought he was a traitor. I defended him the only way 1 could. It won’t matter that everyone knows I’m a murderer.”