The beating he’d taken had changed more than his attitude toward the shogun. In the past he’d risked his life to serve justice, but now he would gladly sacrifice Ienobu, even if Ienobu was innocent, to save himself and his family. He was alarmed to find the change liberating.
Ienobu eked out a chuckle. “It’s a pity we can’t be allies. I could use a man as ruthless as you’ve apparently become. But since we can’t, hear this.” He thrust his finger at Sano’s face. Once more Sano was reminded of an octopus uncoiling its tentacle. This tentacle had a curved, yellow, sharp nail at the end. “If you publicize your theory about me, I’ll make you regret it.”
Sano ceased regretting that he couldn’t ally with Ienobu. Ienobu was now his primary suspect in Tsuruhime’s and Yoshisato’s murders. Even his new, broken self couldn’t have stomached joining forces with a killer. He had some vestige of honor left. But he did regret that he was now pitted against Ienobu as well as Yanagisawa. One powerful enemy had been bad enough.
Hiding his despair, Sano resorted to bravado. “Give me your worst. And I’ll give you mine.”
* * *
Groups of ladies, chaperoned by guards who wore the crests of daimyo clans, walked up the path to the palace. Reiko tagged along behind them. Loath to be recognized, she wore a cloak that concealed her pregnancy and a silk drape that veiled her face. She was shaky with nerves, uncertain about the wisdom of attending the vigil for Yoshisato. The wife of the man accused of murdering him could hardly be welcome.
Reiko followed the ladies into the reception chamber, which was crowded with people and abuzz with polite conversation. When she saw the soldiers stationed along the wall, her heartbeat quickened with panic. The baby pressed against her bladder. She needed to urinate, but she couldn’t leave. Courageous for Sano’s sake, she kept her head down and stayed close to the ladies so that anyone who saw her would think she was one of them. Casting furtive glances around the chamber, she located Lady Nobuko and Korika near the dais, with other women from the Large Interior. One half of Lady Nobuko’s face was distorted by her headache. The other half wore a secretive smile as she contemplated the coffin.
As Reiko edged alongside the line of people waiting to offer their condolences to the shogun, Lady Nobuko met her gaze but offered no acknowledgment. She averted her eyes. Korika smiled an apologetic smile before she, too, turned away from Reiko.
The snub hurt, but Reiko didn’t stop. The other women saw her. They began whispering and pointing. The crowd turned toward Reiko. The object of all censorious eyes, Reiko felt fear as well as mortification. Would the soldiers throw her out?
Lady Nobuko winced with displeasure but gave Reiko a brief nod. She and Korika moved toward the back door. Reiko hurried outside after them, grateful to avoid a dangerous scene. The rain was coming down hard again, cascading off the eaves, deluging the trees. She joined Lady Nobuko and Korika under a narrow roof that sheltered the path through the garden.
“I’m surprised to see you,” Lady Nobuko said in an unfriendly voice. “I didn’t think you would have the nerve to come.”
“I need to speak with you, and I thought you might be here,” Reiko said. “But why are you? You had no love for Yoshisato.”
Lady Nobuko frowned at Reiko’s suggestion that her attendance at the wake was hypocritical. Korika looked insulted on her mistress’s behalf. “Yoshisato was my stepson,” Lady Nobuko said. “My attendance was obligatory.”
“It looked like you were enjoying the fact that he’s dead,” Reiko said.
“Your impertinence is offensive,” Lady Nobuko snapped. “So is your intruding where you must certainly know you are not wanted. I will take this opportunity to tell you that I wish to have no further contact with you or your husband.”
Anger flared in Reiko. “You were happy to have contact with us when you wanted my husband to prove that Yanagisawa murdered Tsuruhime.”
“Circumstances have altered.”
The alliance between Sano and Lady Nobuko had been a matter of mutual convenience rather than friendship, but Reiko could hardly believe the woman would be so cold. “You mean, because my husband isn’t useful to you any longer, you’re severing your ties with us.”
“There’s no need for you to put it so bluntly,” Lady Nobuko said in a pitying tone. “The only person you’re hurting is yourself. But since you insist on being blunt, I will tell you that I cannot associate with a traitor or his wife.”
People associated with an accused traitor risked being implicated in his crime and sharing his punishment. Not even the shogun’s wife dared maintain a connection to Sano. But Lady Nobuko’s repudiation still rankled. Reiko despaired at how alone she and Sano were. She was also furious at the injustice of their plight.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must return to the wake,” Lady Nobuko said. She and Korika started up the path.
“No.” Reiko blocked their way. “We’re not finished talking yet.”
“What more is there to discuss?”
“Where were you last night when Yoshisato’s residence caught fire?” Reiko asked.
Affronted, Lady Nobuko said, “That is none of your business.”
“I say it is. Because my husband didn’t set the fire, and I have to clear his name by finding out who did.”
Lady Nobuko’s expression turned incredulous. “And you think it was me?”
“She didn’t do it!” Korika blurted. Horror sharpened the perpetual anxiety on her face. “Why would she?”
“She hates Yanagisawa,” Reiko said. “She thinks he killed Tsuruhime, who was like a daughter to her. What better way to get revenge on him than by killing Yoshisato?”
“For all we know, Yoshisato may be the shogun’s son and Yanagisawa really is only his adoptive father,” Lady Nobuko said. “If so, his death doesn’t compensate me for Tsuruhime’s.”
“Don’t play games with me,” Reiko said hotly. “You believe Yanagisawa is Yoshisato’s father. You didn’t want Yoshisato to be the next shogun or Yanagisawa to rule Japan through him. And now that Yoshisato is dead, you’ve gotten double the value for the price of one murder. You don’t need my husband to prove that Yanagisawa is responsible for Tsuruhime’s death because you think Yanagisawa has already gotten his comeuppance.”
Lady Nobuko permitted herself a smug little smile. “Yoshisato’s death was merely good luck for me. I didn’t set the fire. Maybe it was an accident. Most fires are.”
“Not this one,” Reiko said. “My husband found a smoking basket, a jar of kerosene, and some rags hidden at the scene.”
She saw uncertainty disturb Lady Nobuko, who obviously hadn’t heard about everything that had happened last night. Then Lady Nobuko’s composure returned. She said, “Even if the fire was arson, why are you accusing me? Other people besides myself probably didn’t want Yoshisato to inherit the dictatorship or Yanagisawa to control the government.”
“You have a personal grudge against Yanagisawa. He had you kidnapped and raped. My husband tried to prove it and couldn’t. Then Yanagisawa infected Tsuruhime with smallpox, according to you.” Reiko moved closer to Lady Nobuko. “What happened? Were you afraid my husband wouldn’t be able to prove Yanagisawa was responsible for that crime, either? Did you take matters into your own hands?”
Arms folded, Lady Nobuko stood her ground. “Your suppositions are ridiculous.” Her voice could have frozen boiling lye. “I did not kill Yoshisato. The very idea of my creeping around at night, setting a fire!”
She seemed to think she should be absolved of the crime because the practicalities of it were beneath her. Reiko did have difficulty picturing Lady Nobuko pouring kerosene under the heir’s residence and throwing in rags lit from the coals in the smoking basket, but she’d encountered other unlikely murderesses in the past.
“Then answer my question,” Reiko said. “Where were you last night?”
“In my bedchamber, asleep,” Lady Nobuko said.