“It’s my duty to Lord Matsumae,” Sano said.
Gizaemon said with a sarcastic chuckle, “As if he’s in any shape to care about that now.”
“We have a deal,” Sano reminded him.
“I just broke it.”
“What gives you the right?”
“Now that my nephew is out of commission-thanks to you-I’m in charge.”
A moment ago Sano wouldn’t have thought anyone could be a worse ruler than the mad Lord Matsumae, but Gizaemon was. Stubborn, narrow-minded, plus mean added up to a spark in the powder-keg that was Ezogashima. Besides, if Lord Matsumae wasn’t the killer, then Gizaemon was still a major suspect.
“I outrank you in the Tokugawa regime,” Sano said, even though he knew that mattered little so far from Edo. “I’m taking over.”
“You and your little band of men? Don’t make me laugh.” Gizaemon jabbed a finger at Sano. “Your investigation’s over. And you’re not needed here.” He nodded to the troops.
The haste with which they pushed Sano toward the door made it clear that Gizaemon had already established himself as ruler. Sano said, “You can’t cure your nephew by keeping him tied up. If he’s left as he is, he’ll die. You need my help.”
“More of your help will finish him off.” Gizaemon swelled with new, malignant authority. “You’re forbidden to come near him again.”
As Sano resisted the men dragging him away, Gizaemon added, “Lord Matsumae let you get away with too much. I won’t. And don’t bother threatening me with your army, the shogun, or Lord Matsudaira. Your army is far away, and if the shogun and Lord Matsudaira cared about you, they’d never have sent you here.”
Troops marched Reiko up to the guest quarters just as others arrived bringing Sano. One of the soldiers with Reiko said, “Your wife has been causing trouble, Honorable Chamberlain.” He shoved her at Sano. “Keep her under control.”
After Reiko had cornered Lady Matsumae in the bath chamber, the woman had complained to the guards, who’d found her in the native concubines’ quarters and removed her. Now Reiko was relieved to see that Sano was safe, but the huge weight of her grief for Masahiro crushed happier emotions.
Sano moved his lips in what failed to pass as a smile. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Reiko said, although that had never been less true. She felt as if they inhabited separate worlds moving farther apart. “And you?”
“Yes.”
She could see that he didn’t want to burden her any more than she wanted to burden him, but lines of fatigue and sorrow carved his face. Reiko had a vision of what he would look like in twenty years-if they lived that long. She tried not to imagine that much time without Masahiro, time she’d planned to spend watching him grow into a man, marry, and give her grandchildren. She forced herself to concentrate on the moment, on putting one foot in front of the other along the course toward vengeance, her only, harsh comfort.
The troops locked her and Sano in the building, which was as cold inside as outside. Reiko and Sano removed only their boots in the entry way and kept their coats on. As they headed toward their room, Reiko said, “I have to tell you what I’ve learned.”
The door of the room where Sano’s men were staying opened, and Hirata appeared. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment.” Sano accompanied Reiko into their room. It was freezing; their beds were not put away, and no food was left for them. “It looks like the servants have quit us.”
He opened the braziers and put in coal. Reiko knew he needed to keep busy for the same reason she did, but she couldn’t help feeling annoyed at him because his actions were so practical, so trivial. “Must you do that now?”
“Don’t you want me to warm this place up?” Sano lit the coals and used his glove to fan up the fires.
“Yes, but I need you to listen.” I can listen while I work.“ An edge sharpened his voice.
They’d often done this sort of ordinary bickering, but Reiko found that although grief diminished positive emotions, it intensified negative ones such as resentment toward her husband for not paying her enough attention. “Just stop for a moment. This is important.”
Sano replaced a lid on a brazier with exaggerated care and dusted off his gloves. “All right. I’m listening.”
“I think I know who killed Tekare and Lilac.”
“Oh?”
Disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm, Reiko said, “It’s either Lady Matsumae or Wente.” She described her conversations with both. “Well? Which one do you think it is?”
“Either sounds as good as the other,” Sano said wearily.
Reiko couldn’t understand his attitude. “Don’t you care?”
“It’s not that.” Sano drew her down to sit with him beside the brazier that emitted faint, inadequate heat. “The situation has changed.” He told her that he’d confronted Lord Matsumae about the diary and how Lord Matsumae had reacted.
Reiko was amazed by the idea that the spirit inside Lord Matsumae had tried to kill him. “You believe Lord Matsumae killed Tekare?”
“As much as I can believe anyone else did,” Sano said, “but the spirit of Tekare didn’t give him a chance to confess. And Gizaemon has taken over. He’s shut down the murder investigation. Who really killed Tekare, or Lilac, is beside the point.”
Reiko was devastated because her efforts had come to nothing, and angry because she didn’t agree with Sano one bit. “Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but it does to me.”
“I didn’t mean it doesn’t matter to me. I’m just saying-”
“You’re saying that no matter who killed Tekare, the truth is useless because even if we find it, you can’t make anybody here do anything with it.”
Sano exhaled, “If you must speak so bluntly.”
“Well, I still want to know who the murderer is, and I have a good use for the information. He or she instigated what happened to Masahiro. I want that person punished. I want revenge.” Reiko’s voice shook with rage and grief. “It’s all I have left.”
“I know how you feel,” Sano said. “I feel the same.”
“Do you?” Reiko tasted the acid in her words. She didn’t see how the death of a child could possibly hurt the father as much as the mother who had borne him.
“Of course,” Sano said, clearly wounded by her implication. “Masahiro was my son, too.”
The pain of hearing him mentioned in the past tense boosted Reiko’s desire to lash out at someone, and Sano was the only person available. “Then stop acting so defeated. Let’s figure out who started this whole disaster!”
“It’s not that easy,” Sano explained. “I have even less freedom to question suspects, look for witnesses, and find clues than I did before. There won’t be any more guided tours around the castle and city for me or Hirata-san. We’re locked in here. My hands are tied.”
Reiko understood, but his helplessness angered her even more. “That would seem to be your own fault. If you hadn’t accused Lord Matsumae, he might still be in charge and willing to cooperate with you.”
Visibly angry himself now, and stung by her rebuke, Sano said, “I agree that was the worst mistake in my life, even though it seemed like a good idea at the time.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “What is it about this place? Good ideas always turn out wrong here.” He rubbed his eyes. “I wish I’d never found that despicable diary or confronted Lord Matsumae with it.”
His self-reproach pained Reiko, but she took a mean pleasure in hurting him. “You’re always so concerned about justice. What about justice for your son? What about your samurai duty to avenge him? If you cared, you’d find a way.”
“Shut up!” Sano exclaimed. Making an effort to calm himself, he put his hands on her shoulders and deliberately lowered his voice: “I know how upset you are, but don’t take it out on me.”
Reiko lost her own self-control. “Let me go!” She fought Sano, hitting him, savage with grief and fury. Part of her dimly realized that this was how Lord Matsumae must have felt when Tekare had died. Now she was going mad, too.