What now? Sano thought with disgust. A forged confession supposedly written by me?
Yanagisawa held up a large scrap of cloth. It was dark red silk, the edges torn. A design embroidered on it in gold thread glinted like flames. The design was a flying crane.
“The flying crane is Sano’s family crest,” Yanagisawa said. “This scrap was found stuck in a bush near the burned building. It was torn off Sano’s robe while he set the fire.”
It hadn’t been torn off any of Sano’s clothes. Yanagisawa had probably had the crest copied long ago and saved it until he needed it. But the judges seemed ready to believe anything Yanagisawa said.
“That concludes my evidence against Sano-san. Now you may speak.” Yanagisawa’s expression told Sano not to waste his breath; he was already defeated.
Sano faced the judges. Denials wouldn’t do him any good. Neither would accusing Lord Ienobu or Lady Nobuko. He had no evidence against them and no witnesses to testify to his innocence. The only weapon he had was words. They had better be spectacular.
“I did not set the fire,” Sano declared in a voice that resounded through the chamber. “I did not murder Yoshisato.”
That was the only unadulterated truth he intended to tell.
Truth, which he’d always valued dearly, along with justice and honor, wouldn’t save his life. His honor had already been trampled in the dirt, and so had justice. Pushed to the extremes of desperation, Sano kicked away truth, the third, obsolete pillar that had once constituted the foundation of his life.
The judges looked bored, unimpressed. Sano was about to change that. “All the evidence you’ve heard is false, except one piece.” He told his first lie. “I did go to the heir’s residence last night.”
The lie tasted bitter, but like the right medicine for a disease.
Low, uneasy murmurs arose from the audience, as if the floor had tilted under it. Surprise wiped the boredom off the judges’ faces. Yanagisawa twitched involuntarily. He said, “Don’t be fooled. He’s about to feed you a fairy tale.”
Sano said blandly, “I’m just confirming what Lieutenant Hayashi said. Are you contradicting your own witness?”
Yanagisawa’s mouth fell open. Lord Nabeshima said, “I want to hear this.” His yellow eyes gleamed with interest. “Sano-san, why did you go to the heir’s residence?”
“To visit Yoshisato.” Sano tossed his next lie on top of the first two. Lying was getting easier. “Because Yoshisato invited me.”
“He didn’t,” Kato Kinhide said. His scorn, and Yanagisawa’s, didn’t hide their effort to figure out where Sano was going with this. “Why would he have?”
“He wanted to finish a conversation we started at the tournament,” Sano said.
“A conversation about what?” Inspector General Nakae asked.
“Yoshisato made me a proposition.” Sano mixed a dash of truth into his story. “He wanted to build a coalition to clean up corruption in the government, end the political warfare, and bring peace and harmony to the regime. He asked me to join his coalition.”
Outrage shattered Yanagisawa’s control. “Yoshisato did no such thing!”
“How do you know?” Sano said. “You weren’t there.”
“A coalition? With you? That’s ridiculous!”
“That’s why Yoshisato wouldn’t let you purge me from the regime or kill me,” Sano said truthfully. “Because he wanted me to help him run the government when he became shogun.”
Yanagisawa’s eyes widened: He realized Sano couldn’t have known Yoshisato had saved him unless Yoshisato had told him so. The judges seemed shocked into believing Sano, amazed to learn that the youth they’d counted on to cement their power over the regime had had his own plans.
Sano wished he’d made Yoshisato’s proposition public earlier. It might have changed everything. At any rate, it was a card he could play now. “I told Yoshisato I needed to think about his proposition. He invited me to visit him last night. When I got there, he asked what my answer was.” Sano paused. The room was hushed with suspense, Yanagisawa too flabbergasted to speak. “I said yes.”
Sano beheld the stricken faces of the judges and Yanagisawa as they absorbed the possibility that if Yoshisato had lived, the world would have seen a new day. Sano wondered whether, if he really had accepted the proposition, Yoshisato would be alive and himself not charged with arson and murder.
“I had no reason to kill Yoshisato,” Sano concluded. “We parted as friends.”
“That’s a blatant lie!” Yanagisawa’s passionate, angry voice rang with conviction. “Yoshisato never mentioned this coalition to me. Sano is just trying to save his despicable skin.”
Sano thought that Yoshisato couldn’t have been eager to reveal his plan to Yanagisawa and probably hadn’t done so. But Yanagisawa never sounded more convincing than when he was lying. Sano saw the same thought occur to the judges. Disbelief tinged the gazes they bent on Yanagisawa.
“Yoshisato did tell you about his coalition. He said so last night,” Sano lied. “He also said you were furious because he told you he didn’t want you in the coalition. He thought you would only make trouble. He was going to cut you out of the regime.” Sano pointed at Yanagisawa. “I’m not the one who had reason to murder Yoshisato. You are.”
Yanagisawa’s eyes filled with enlightenment and indignation. The judges’ mouths dropped as they perceived the point of Sano’s testimony. Mutters from the audience sounded like grudging cheers. Sano had turned the tables on Yanagisawa.
“You went to the heir’s residence after I left,” Sano said, embellishing his tale. “You set the fire. You showed up afterward and pretended to be upset that Yoshisato was dead.” His tale could very well be true. Yoshisato’s plans for the future gave Yanagisawa an excellent motive for murder. “And you put the blame on me.” Sano turned to the judges. “Yanagisawa burned Yoshisato to death.”
They looked to Yanagisawa, as if hoping he could brush off Sano’s charges and fearing they’d cast their lot with the real murderer of the shogun’s heir.
A change came over Yanagisawa. He relaxed, smiled, and began to applaud. The sound was like the clappers used at Kabuki plays, to herald a new development in the plot.
“That’s a good story, Sano-san.” Yanagisawa was never a better actor than when he was under pressure, Sano remembered. “But have you evidence to back it up?”
Here was the weakness in Sano’s ploy. “You didn’t give me enough time to find some.”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Yanagisawa said. “How about witnesses?”
“I wasn’t allowed to bring any.”
“Well, I have one more.” Yanagisawa signaled to a guard.
The guard went out and returned with a woman. It was Lady Someko, Yoshisato’s mother. Her makeup was perfect, her deep red kimono opulent, but her features seemed oddly flaccid. She tripped on her skirts as she walked toward Sano. The guard held her up. When he lowered her to her knees, she seemed unaware of her surroundings, of the other people in the room. Her eyes had a dark, unnatural shininess.
“You said you were finished presenting evidence,” Sano objected.
“I changed my mind.” Yanagisawa had apparently saved a surprise witness in case Sano made too good an impression on the judges. He wasn’t letting himself be cornered into confessing he’d murdered Yoshisato. He said to Lady Someko, “What happened yesterday?”
“… Yesterday,” Lady Someko echoed. Her voice was sleepy, her expression vague.
“She acts like she’s been drugged,” Sano said. “She’s in no shape to testify.”
The judges regarded her doubtfully. Yanagisawa ignored Sano. He asked Lady Someko, “You went to Sano’s house, didn’t you?”