Sano stared in amazement. She was glorious, brown-skinned, with full lips like an exotic flower in the intense blue tattoo, long, wavy black hair, and dark, deep, knowing eyes. Her nipples were erect, her muscles as strong as a man’s yet sleek, supple, and feminine. Tekare surveyed Gizaemon and smiled with private satisfaction: She’d had her revenge at last.
She swept a triumphant gaze across her audience that stood entranced, silent, and motionless. Then she turned and walked toward the forest. The trees ahead of her shimmered like a painting on a sheer silk curtain blown by the wind. A thunderous crack shook the earth as the portal opened to the spirit world. Tekare walked through the shimmering trees. She disintegrated as if composed of a million particles of light that winked out rapidly one by one. The shimmer abruptly ceased; the world was quiet. Everybody gazed at the forest, where Tekare had vanished.
Captain Okimoto cried, “Lord Matsumae!” He rushed to his fallen master, shook him, and patted his face. “He won’t wake up.”
Troops flocked around Lord Matsumae. Joined by their fear that he was dead and they were masterless samurai, they’d forgotten that they’d been fighting to kill one another. Sano knelt, put his ear by Lord Matsumae’s nose, and felt his neck. “He’s breathing, and his pulse is strong.”
Chieftain Awetok spoke, and the Rat translated: “‘When the spirit of Tekare left him, it was a shock to his system. He’ll sleep for a while. Then he’ll be fine. Take him home.”“
A few troops loaded Lord Matsumae onto a sled. Others gathered up their slain and wounded comrades, some twenty in all. Natives knelt beside and mourned their dead. Urahenka sat with Wente cradled in his lap. Sobs shuddered through him. The air filled with the sound of weeping.
Sano took charge. He said to Chieftain Awetok, “On behalf of the Matsumae clan, the Tokugawa regime, and myself, I apologize for what your people have suffered. I’ll see that you’re compensated. In the meantime, I’m calling off the war.”
Chieftain Awetok nodded in acceptance if not forgiveness. Sano looked anxiously about the village and heard his son’s voice call. He saw Masahiro and Reiko running toward him, hand in hand. Masahiro broke loose from Reiko. He launched himself at Sano. Sano picked him up in his arms. They both laughed with joy. Tears blurred Sano’s eyes. It didn’t seem fair that so many people had died and suffered today and he was so happy. But the balance of fate could tip tomorrow. For now he just celebrated his miracle.
“Papa, I knew you were in Ezogashima. I knew you would come,” Masahiro said.
Sano was touched because his son had such faith in him. “How did you know?”
“I saw you.”
“Oh, you did?” Sano smiled fondly, thinking what a good imagination Masahiro had, glad that it had comforted him. “Where?”
“I was out hunting in the woods with my new friends yesterday. And suddenly you were in front of me. You were with detectives Marume and Fukida and the Rat. Don’t you remember?”
An eerie sensation tingled inside Sano as he remembered the vision he’d had in Fukuyama City.
Masahiro playfully punched his chest. “I waved at you, Papa. You waved back. You saw me, too.”
35
In his chamber in Fukuyama Castle, Lord Matsumae lay in bed, his gaunt body swaddled in thick quilts, a nightcap on his head. He stirred and yawned. His eyes, gummy with sleep, blinked open at Sano, who knelt beside him.
“Welcome back to the world,” Sano said.
“Chamberlain Sano.” Lord Matsumae sounded confused but lucid. “Where am I?”
“At home.”
Lord Matsumae raised himself on his elbows and squinted at his surroundings. “The last thing I knew, I was in a native village. Let me look outside.”
Sano rose and opened the window. Another huge snowstorm had buried the garden up to the veranda railings. Masahiro was having a snowball fight with Reiko, the two guards who’d helped him escape, the detectives, the Rat, and the Ainu concubines. They laughed as they pelted one another. The precarious harmony between the natives and the Japanese had been restored-at least temporarily. The deaths on both sides were forgotten for now.
The sunlight bleached Lord Matsumae’s whiskered face. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Five days.”
“… Merciful gods. What’s happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
Alarmed recollection deluged Lord Matsumae’s gaze. “I killed my uncle Gizaemon. Because he killed Tekare.” He gasped. “Tekare. Where is she?”
“She’s gone,” Sano said, “to the spirit world.”
“Gone.” With an expression that combined bereavement and relief, Lord Matsumae sat up and examined himself, flexing his arms and hands that he alone now controlled. He touched his face that belonged only to him.
“Yes,” Sano said. “She’s at peace.”
Lord Matsumae echoed, “At peace. As I wish I could be.” A breath of despair gusted from him. “I’ll love her and miss her all my life. But I’m glad she’s gone. Uncle Gizaemon was right about her. When she was with me, I did terrible things that I didn’t want to do but couldn’t help myself.” Shame colored his woe. “I disobeyed the shogun’s laws, forsook my duty, and let my domain go to hell. I massacred innocent natives and declared war on them. I’ve treated you abominably, and I put your son to death.” He regarded Sano with puzzlement. “After what I’ve done to you, how can you sit talking calmly with me? Why don’t you kill me?”
“Fortunately your men thought better of following your orders to kill my son. There he is.” Sano pointed out the window at Masahiro. “As you can see, he’s alive and well.”
“No thanks to me,” Lord Matsumae said, still guilt-ridden. “I must atone for what I’ve done. I’m turning my domain over to the shogun. Please allow me a few days to settle my affairs and say good-bye to the men who’ve served me faithfully even when I was mad. Then I will commit seppuku.”
Sano saw that his remorse was genuine; Lord Matsumae was his decent, rational self again. But those weren’t the only reasons that Sano said, “Ritual suicide won’t be necessary. I’m going to advise the shogun to pardon you and let you stay on as lord of Ezogashima.” He didn’t know how much influence he still had over the shogun, but it was worth a try.
“But I must take responsibility for my actions.” Lord Matsumae sounded adamant instead of ready for an easy way out.
“You weren’t responsible. Tekare was.”
When Sano had first come to Ezogashima and discovered what Lord Matsumae had done, when he’d watched Lord Matsumae in action, he’d never imagined wanting to pardon the man. A big part of Sano hadn’t believed in spirit possession even though he’d personally seen evidence of it. But after he’d watched Tekare cross over to the spirit world, after he’d learned that his own vision of Masahiro had been real, his mind had accepted that Ezogashima was a place where the impossible happened. Now he was convinced that Lord Matsumae had truly been possessed, his actions beyond his control, and was innocent by reason of temporary madness. And Sano had another reason for keeping Lord Matsumae in control of Ezogashima.
“But I’m at fault for letting Tekare gain control of me while she was alive,” Lord Matsumae protested. “People have suffered because of my mistake. I shouldn’t be allowed to escape with no consequences.”
“You won’t,” Sano assured him. “You’ll pay restitution to the families of the people you killed. You’ll give better trade terms to the natives. You can also give them more freedom and protect them from Japanese who prey on them.” Should someone else take over the domain, heaven help the natives. A new lord would exploit them worse than ever.