“What can he do to me? Kill me?” Lady Someko said scornfully. “No, he needs me alive, to say I slept with the shogun and conceived you.”
“He’ll punish you some other way.” Yoshisato had seen bruises on her, after her nights with Yanagisawa.
“That’s my problem. Why didn’t you tell me you went to see Tsuruhime?”
Yoshisato could see how badly she wanted him to convince her that he wasn’t responsible for Tsuruhime’s death. “I didn’t think it was important. I probably wouldn’t have kept up an acquaintance with her. I forgot about it until Sano mentioned it.”
With each reason, Lady Someko looked less convinced and more despairing. “If I were Sano, I wouldn’t believe your feeble excuses.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not him! I seem to have a better chance of convincing my enemies than my own mother!” Yoshisato rose and glared down at her. “Do you really think I’m capable of murder?”
She stood; her anger matched his. “I don’t know. I don’t know you anymore!”
“Well, I’m not,” he said, hurt by her lack of faith in him. “I didn’t infect Tsuruhime with smallpox. I’m telling you, and I’ve already told Sano. What more can I do?”
“Quit pretending. Tell the shogun you’re not his son.” She was breathless with urgency. “I’ll say that I made a mistake, that I got the dates wrong, that you were conceived before I slept with him. He’ll disinherit you.”
Yoshisato stared, flabbergasted. “What good is that supposed to do?”
“You won’t be a target for Yanagisawa’s enemies.” Lady Someko eagerly grabbed his arm. “Sano will leave you alone. Don’t you see?”
“I see that you’re not thinking straight,” Yoshisato said as he shook off her hand. She didn’t understand Sano any better than Yanagisawa did. “If Sano thinks I killed the shogun’s daughter, he’ll never let it go. And what do you think the shogun will do if you say you made a mistake about my being his son? He’ll say, ‘Fine, good-bye and, ahh, good riddance’?” Yoshisato laughed in derision. “No-he’ll be furious. All these years he’s been wishing for an heir, and you give him one, and then you take him away? It won’t matter then whether I’m innocent or guilty of murdering Tsuruhime. The shogun will put me to death, and you, too!”
Lady Someko listened with stunned comprehension. “You don’t want to quit. You want to be the next shogun and rule Japan, no matter what the risk or the cost.” She backed away from him, hobbling as if he’d dealt her a physical blow. “You are like Yanagisawa.”
“No!” Yoshisato shouted. “Never say that!”
He involuntarily raised his hand. She gasped, burst into tears, and rushed out of the room.
Guilty and ashamed because she’d thought he was going to strike her-and he almost had-Yoshisato staggered to the bed. He lay on his back, arms and legs spread, buffeted by a storm of tumultuous feelings. He hated Yanagisawa, didn’t want to be like him. Yanagisawa had hurt his mother, belittled Yoshisato himself. His father was a corrupt, dishonorable man. And yet …
Saving his life wasn’t the only reason Yoshisato had agreed to the audacious plot to take over the regime. For as long as he could remember, his father’s absence had felt like a big, raw hole in his spirit. His father had visited him exactly once, soon after his birth, his mother had said. It was strange that he could miss someone he couldn’t remember, but he did. As a lonely child he’d dreamed that someday his father would come for him, and they would have wonderful adventures together. He’d eventually learned, by listening to his guards talk, that Yanagisawa was a powerful politician, feared for his cruelty. He’d realized that Yanagisawa didn’t care about him and wasn’t coming. He’d decided to hate Yanagisawa. But when Yanagisawa had unexpectedly shown up many years later, Yoshisato discovered that the hole had never healed. Although he constantly rebelled against Yanagisawa, punishing him for his neglect, Yoshisato loved him and craved his approval.
If he became the next shogun, maybe his father would love him in return.
But as Yoshisato reflected on his own motives, he knew they weren’t as pure as a son’s wish to please his father. He wanted to be shogun. He wanted to try his hand at ruling Japan. And he wouldn’t say no to the power of life and death over everyone.
Maybe he was like Yanagisawa.
The idea terrified him. The stress of carrying on a charade, of bracing for attacks from his enemies, of resisting Yanagisawa’s influence, seemed unbearable. But it was too late to quit. And although he wanted to kill Yanagisawa for hurting his mother and belittling himself, he couldn’t. Yanagisawa was right-they needed each other. They were locked in a bond of love, hatred, and conspiracy.
Yoshisato prayed that he could build the coalition he’d mentioned to Sano. It was his only hope of countering Yanagisawa, of living long enough to become shogun and of keeping the regime under his control when he did. Such a fragile straw to grasp! Yoshisato wanted to curl up under the quilt and cry; he felt so young and helpless and alone.
Instead he laid his hands on his diaphragm, closed his eyes, and began a deep-breathing meditation. After a lengthy struggle to banish his troubling thoughts, he began to feel calmer, drowsy.
Sudden noises jarred him. His eyes snapped open. He heard stealthy footsteps and muffled cries from outside.
* * *
Wind swirled around the black hulk of Edo Castle. Jagged clouds raced across the night sky, sliced the moon. The trees around the heir’s residence swayed and rustled. Under the building, smoke wafted out from the lattice that enclosed the foundations. The diamond-shaped spaces between the lattice’s wooden slats glowed orange with firelight. Footsteps pelted the ground as a shadowy figure fled into the darkness.
25
A loud, insistent clanging awakened Sano. The smell of smoke invaded his drowsy consciousness. He and Reiko bolted upright.
“That’s the fire bell,” Reiko exclaimed. She scrambled out of bed and ran to the door, calling, “Masahiro! Akiko!”
Sano was already up, flinging open the cabinet. He pulled out leather fire gear, threw Reiko hers, then put on his own.
“Fire! Fire!” Masahiro and Akiko shouted as they ran into the room.
They were already dressed in their fire gear-long capes, hoods with visors and face shields, and knee-high boots. Fires were the most dreaded natural disaster, common in Edo. Fires that had started during the earthquake had caused much of the damage. Everyone was prepared, including children. Sano heard guards and servants shouting. He sent his family to join the stampede from the mansion while he made sure nobody was left inside. When the mansion was evacuated, he met Detective Marume on the veranda.
“The fire’s up there.” Marume pointed.
On the second highest tier of the castle, the western fortress was engulfed in smoke that glowed with a terrible orange radiance and billowed up the hill. The bell clanged continuously. Shouts and running footsteps echoed through the castle as the fire brigades mobilized. Ash drifted. Airborne cinders glinted like fireflies.
“It’s the heir’s residence,” Sano said.
He organized one team of men to go with him to help put out the fire, and another to protect the estate. Reiko called, “Be careful!” as Sano, Marume, Masahiro, and their team rushed out the gate.
The passage was crowded with troops clad in fire gear, speeding uphill to rescue the shogun’s heir. They carried buckets and hatchets, and long poles with a hook on the end. Sano’s party joined the rush. When they arrived in the walled compound, the residence was a mass of roaring, crackling flames. Smoke billowed from windows. Tiles spewed from the roof like missiles. Smaller fires kindled in trees, bushes, and grass. The compound was full of people milling around, watching the inferno.