“She was,” Korika hastened to say. “I have the room next to hers. She never left.”
“Of course you would vouch for her,” Reiko said. “She’s your mistress.”
“She’s telling the truth. I was awakened by the fire bells. The noise made my head ache terribly. I called Korika. She spent the rest of the night nursing me,” Lady Nobuko said. “This conversation is finished.”
She and Korika started up the path. This time Reiko stepped aside. It was no use trying to badger a confession out of Lady Nobuko. The frail old woman was too strong-minded. And she might be innocent.
But Reiko perceived that Lady Nobuko was ruthless and clever enough to have hired someone to set the fire. A wild, helpless fury seized Reiko as the wind blew rain on her. She called after Lady Nobuko, “I will exonerate my husband-I swear. You’d better hope you never need another favor from us.”
31
Yanagisawa stood outside Lady Someko’s chamber. Her sobs quieted to whimpers. The physician came out with his medicine chest and said, “I gave her a potion. She’ll be asleep soon.”
“Good.” After the physician left, Yanagisawa lingered in the corridor. Moments passed before he realized what he was doing. He was waiting for Yoshisato.
He had a strange, irrational notion that Yoshisato was still alive. Maybe it was because he hadn’t actually witnessed Yoshisato’s death. He couldn’t believe that one of those grisly corpses was Yoshisato. A stubborn part of him thought Yoshisato was coming back.
Yanagisawa shook his head at himself. He couldn’t hang around wishing for the impossible. He had to go back to the funeral, put up a strong front, and make sure his faction didn’t desert him. But as he walked through the empty guesthouse, he slowed outside Yoshisato’s room. He experienced an overpowering sense that Yoshisato was there. His heart leaped. He looked through the doorway. The room was empty, but the atmosphere vibrated with Yoshisato’s presence, as if Yoshisato had just left. Yanagisawa could almost smell his fresh, youthful scent and hear the echo of his sardonic voice. Joy gave way to consternation.
Was Yoshisato’s death driving him mad?
At the sound of footsteps in the corridor, hope resurged. Yanagisawa rushed out of the room and bumped into Kato Kinhide from the Council of Elders. He shouted.
“Sorry if I frightened you,” Kato said.
Yanagisawa could barely contain his disappointment. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw the scene Lady Someko made at the funeral.” Apprehension tinged the disgust on Kato’s flat face. “Is she under control?”
“For the time being.”
“That’s not good enough. You should get rid of her.”
Kato was right, but Yanagisawa balked at the idea of killing Lady Someko. He hated her viciousness, and at this moment he couldn’t even imagine desiring her sexually, but she was Yoshisato’s mother. She was his only connection with Yoshisato.
“I can’t,” Yanagisawa said. “She’s the only person who can say for sure that the shogun is Yoshisato’s father. That still matters even though Yoshisato is dead.” Again he had that irrational feeling that Yoshisato was nearby, alive. He couldn’t breathe a hint of it to Kato, who would think he was losing his mind. “If the shogun stops believing Yoshisato was his son, he’ll be furious, and you and I and all our friends had better prepare to die.”
“She’s the only person who can say for sure that the shogun isn’t Yoshisato’s father.” Kato obviously suspected the truth. “She’s dangerous.”
“I can take care of her,” Yanagisawa assured himself as well as Kato.
“You’d better take care of Sano, too. As long as he’s alive, he’ll cause you trouble.”
Yanagisawa responded indignantly. “I tried to take care of him. You and the other elders stopped me. Why? Don’t tell me you really think Sano might be innocent and he should get a fair trial.”
“Some people are still sympathetic toward Sano. You don’t want them to think you’re rushing to frame him.”
“Not many. They can’t hurt me,” Yanagisawa scoffed.
“You’re wrong. The political situation has changed drastically since yesterday,” Kato said. “Ienobu is the heir apparent again. The next battle will be you fighting him for control of the regime. You can’t afford to offend Sano’s friends. You need to get them on your side.”
Vexed because Kato was right again, Yanagisawa said, “How would you have me do that?”
“When Sano goes to trial, make the case against him so conclusive that everybody will believe he’s guilty. Then nobody will take offense at his death. His former allies will join your camp. Ienobu has the advantage of being the shogun’s nephew, but he’s repulsive. You aren’t. Never underestimate the power of good looks.”
Yanagisawa hesitated, torn between his craving for immediate revenge against Sano, his need to shore up his political position, and his urge to search for Yoshisato.
“You lost a war ten years ago,” Kato reminded him. “You should strengthen your forces as much as possible for this one.” The slits of his eyes gleamed with fear for himself. “Do you really want your hatred for Sano to push you into hasty action and then gamble that you’ll be able to pull off another comeback?”
Yanagisawa sighed, conceding to reality.
“Look at it this way,” Kato said. “You can make Sano suffer for a little while longer before he dies. Pile the mud on his name. He’ll be the most despised criminal in Japan.”
* * *
“Well, look who’s here, right on time,” Tahara said to Hirata.
“We thought you wouldn’t show up,” Kitano said.
They and Deguchi sat on the bank of a canal in the Kanda district, under an overturned wooden boat that sheltered them from the rain. Kanda had been hit hard by the earthquake. Houses, embankments, and bridges had collapsed. Ruins still lay everywhere. Rebuilding had barely started. Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi were the only people Hirata saw.
“Why wouldn’t I show up?” Dismounting from his horse, Hirata avoided looking at Deguchi, who avoided looking at him. They mustn’t let Kitano and Tahara guess that they were now in league against the secret society.
“You haven’t exactly been enthusiastic about working with us,” Kitano said. He and Tahara and Deguchi crawled out from under the boat.
“I’ve decided to quit fighting you and enjoy the benefits of being in the society,” Hirata said as nonchalantly as he could.
“Will wonders never cease?” Eyes twinkling, Kitano clapped Hirata on the back.
The four men walked to the canal’s edge. The government had cleared most of the waterways, but this was a narrow branch in what had been a poor neighborhood. It was a swamp clogged with broken boats, a fallen bridge, collapsed houses, and other debris, all blanketed by a green scum of algae. Gnats and mosquitoes buzzed. The men began to breathe in slow, deep rhythm. Mystical powers started to flow. Hirata’s lungs expanded his ribs; his heartbeat accelerated to a thunderous drumming. The blood in his veins swelled with invigorating forces. He chanted an ancient Chinese magic spell. His nerves and muscles tingled. He felt a stiffening sensation as the physical, mental, and spiritual energies within him gathered and aligned. He and Deguchi, Tahara, and Kitano extended their hands toward the canal.
Invisible rays of energy shot from their fingertips. The air around the rays shimmered; raindrops vaporized. Jolts shook Hirata as his power locked onto objects in the canal. He and the other men slowly raised their hands. Boards and stones levitated. They hung in the air, dripping water. The men gestured, wafting the debris toward the opposite bank. They cut off the flow of power long enough for the debris to fall on the ground. They brought up furniture and pieces of the bridge. They gasped as fatigue began to set in. Levitation required a lot of energy. Up came more debris. The water level dropped. Something big was hidden below the surface. As Hirata and the other men strained to lift it, his fingertips burned as if they were on fire. The thing slowly rose.