“Yes, you did!” Yanagisawa said. “You murdered Aisu, and you tried to murder me, too. Confess! Tell me where the emperor is!”
Ichijo’s eyes were glazed as he murmured, “Konoe… Merciful gods. I should have guessed…” He swayed dizzily and collapsed in a faint.
“Wake up!” Yanagisawa slapped Ichijo, but the right minister remained unconscious. The bakufu officials herded the court nobles and ladies away. Yanagisawa glared at Sano. “What brilliant scheme do you propose now?”
The next hours passed in a blur. By afternoon, search parties had covered much of the capital without locating the emperor. Right Minister Ichijo had regained consciousness, but continued to insist that he knew nothing about the rebels. A distraught Lady Jokyōden insisted likewise. Both suspects were under house arrest along with the rest of the Imperial Court. Soldiers now guarded all approaches to Miyako; cannon had been mounted along the Great Rampart, and all samurai in the area drafted into service. Yet the local Tokugawa army numbered only the few thousand required to maintain a visible presence during almost a century of peace. The rebels might have recruited more than this, and could launch a violent bid for power even though the emperor’s foolish announcement of his plans had lost them the advantage of surprise.
Nijō Castle now assumed its proper role as a military fortification. Troops occupied the guard turrets. Sano and Yanagisawa, like rival generals forced to unite against a common threat, shared a hasty meal in the private chambers.
“Maybe we already have the clue we need to find the emperor and prevent the revolt,” Sano said, scooping noodles into his mouth with chopsticks.
Yanagisawa drank tea. “Not those mysterious coins? Even if we had time for them, I seriously doubt whether they would help us solve our immediate problem.”
“I wasn’t talking about the coins,” Sano said, “although I have found out that they’re linked with a local gangster clan, the Dazai. I meant the papers you took from Left Minister Konoe’s office. If he was spying on the rebels, perhaps he knew where they planned to assemble and wrote down the information.”
“I’ve already been through those papers, and I can’t recall seeing anything that might be a reference to a siege on Miyako.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to check again,” Sano said.
With a shrug, Yanagisawa conceded, “What have we got to lose?”
When Sano arrived at Nijō Manor, Reiko met him at the gate, her face vivid with anxiety. “I’ve been watching the soldiers march through the city,” she cried as Sano dismounted from his horse. “The shoshidai has ordered all the samurai at the inn to report for military duty. Does this mean the revolt is going to start soon?”
“Yes.” Sano explained about the emperor’s letter and disappearance. "Unfortunately, we don’t know when or where the rebels will attack.”
“What are you going to do?”
At least they were speaking again, Sano thought. A stable boy took charge of his horse, and he went into the inn with Reiko. “You and I will review the papers from Left Minister Konoe’s office.”
In their room Sano discovered that Reiko had emptied the boxes; journals, scrolls, and loose pages lay sorted into piles around the room. Pointing at various piles, she described their contents: “These are the left minister’s calendars, which list meetings, ceremonies, and holidays. Those are his notes on palace business. Drafts of imperial edicts. Lefters from the bakufu and other court nobles. Banquet menus. His diaries include the history of his rivalry with Right Minister Ichijo, insults toward Lady Jokyōden, and complaints about Emperor Tomohito’s bad behavior, but if there’s anything here to say who killed him, I can’t find it.”
“That doesn’t matter. Chamberlain Yanagisawa and I are almost certain that Ichijo is the murderer,” Sano said.
Reiko stood perfectly still as Sano told her about the apparent link between Ichijo and the imperial restoration conspiracy.
“Ichijo admits he was in the Pond Garden during Konoe’s murder,” Sano finished, "and his alibi for Aisu’s murder is weak. As a high court official and intelligent, ambitious politician, he’s the likeliest instigator of the revolt, although he claims he’s innocent and won’t talk. What I hope to find in the papers is a clue to the rebels’ strategy.”
“Then Kozeri really did see him. She told me the truth.” Reiko dropped to her knees. Wide-eyed, she pressed a hand to her throat as if choking.
“What’s wrong?” Alarmed, Sano knelt beside his wife.
To his delight, Reiko leaned into his embrace. He felt her trembling as she spoke through sobs: “Last night Kozeri said she’d tried to seduce you, but you wouldn’t let her because you love me. I didn’t believe her then, but I can now. And I know that she did use magic to deceive and entice you, because she tried the same thing with me. Please forgive me for doubting you!”
Sano held Reiko tight. Almost weeping himself in the bliss of their reunion, Sano whispered, “It’s all right now.” He thanked fate for the way the threads of the case had woven together.
After a moment Reiko disengaged from him. “Enough,” she said, wiping away tears. Her voice was brusque, but her face shone with relief and happiness. “We have work to do.”
They began going through the papers she’d sorted. Even with a war looming on the horizon, Sano found a keen pleasure in their task. Still, as he pored over documents, his hope of a successful search waned.
“I’m not finding anything useful,” he said. “Maybe the information is in code.”
Reiko laid aside a scroll and took up another. “If so, I didn’t recognize it. The meaning of all these writings seems perfectly clear to me. I can identify the purpose of each document, and there are no ambiguous phrases. I haven’t seen anything that I would judge as not what it appears to be.”
… ambiguous phrases… the meaning… seems perfectly clear… not what it appears to be… Reiko’s words formed a mesh of sound that drifted like a net through Sano’s mind and snared a dim, amorphous memory. Where had he recently read an ambiguous phrase whose meaning had seemed clear, but might not have been what it seemed? Instinct told him that the answer was critically important. Holding his breath, Sano concentrated. The memory crystallized into bright clarity.
“We’re looking in the wrong place,” he said.
Reiko glanced at him in surprise. “You mean you don’t think the information is in Left Minister Konoe’s papers?”
“Yes, I do,” Sano said, “but these aren’t his only papers.” He hurried to the cabinet. “Konoe also wrote those letters to Kozeri.” With trembling fingers Sano took out the last letter. “This was written seven days before Konoe’s murder. Listen.” He read the angry expressions of unrequited love, concluding with the passage he’d recalled:
“ ‘Soon the forces of defense and desire will clash upon the lofty, sacred heights where spires pierce the sky, feathers drift, and clear water falls.’
“It sounds like a poetic allusion to sex between a man who wants it and a woman who doesn’t,” Reiko said, “which describes the relationship between the left minister and Kozeri.”
“That’s what I thought at first. But what if he’s describing a different kind of struggle, at a real place? ‘Forces of defense and desire’ could mean the Tokugawa army and the rebels who want to take over Japan.” Another inspiration struck Sano. “Didn’t you say that Konoe had asked Kozeri to meet him at the palace to celebrate a ‘special occasion?’ ”
Reiko nodded; comprehension sparkled in her eyes. “He asked her six days after he wrote the letter, and one day before his death. Maybe he was hinting in the letter that he’d discovered the rebels’ strategy-”
“And where they planned to launch the attack,” Sano said.