“It’s good to see you.” Still on yours, Sano added silently. During the four days Sano had been absent from court, Lord Matsudaira appeared to have consolidated his position.

Lord Matsudaira raised his eyebrows and nodded in satisfaction as he read Sano’s thoughts. He looked calmer, more secure, now that his new regime was no longer threatened by an assassin. “Certain problems are much less trouble than they were a few days ago.” He glanced at Elders Kato and Ihara, who stood with a few of their cronies. They eyed him with resentment. “If certain people wish to attack me, they’ll have to do it themselves instead of relying on Kobori. Besides, I’ve won a few new allies, while they’ve lost a lot of ground, because you eliminated him. Good work, Sano-san.”

Sano bowed, acknowledging the praise yet finding it distasteful. Seventy-four men were dead, and he’d almost sacrificed his own life, but all Lord Matsudaira cared about was that the destruction of the Ghost had shored up his regime.

“But don’t get too complacent,” Lord Matsudaira warned him. “There are still many opportunities for you to take a wrong step. And there are just as many men who are eager to take your place if you do.”

Before he slipped away, his gaze directed Sano’s attention across the shrine precinct. Police Commissioner Hoshina loitered on the fringe of a crowd around the shogun. Ire enflamed his features as he started toward Sano. Before Hoshina reached him, Sano was surrounded by officials who greeted him, inquired about his health, and welcomed him back to court. Some of them were men Hoshina had enlisted in his bid for power. Sano could tell how eager they were to make up for shunning him when his position was in jeopardy, how worried that he would hold their disloyalty against them. Obviously, Hoshina’s campaign against him had fizzled.

Hoshina elbowed his way through the crowd. He paused beside Sano long enough to murmur, “You win this time. But you haven’t seen the end of me.” Then he stalked away.

Sano felt the world settle into its familiar, precarious balance. Earth tremors vibrated his feet. He pictured cracks branching underground, toward his home, where he’d noticed that Reiko seemed troubled and distant. She hadn’t confided in him, and he’d sensed she hadn’t wanted to burden him with problems during his convalescence, but he knew she was upset about the way her investigation had turned out. Sano felt a sudden, pressing need to talk to her, before his whirlwind of business reclaimed him.

“Excuse me,” he said to the officials.

He signaled Detectives Marume and Fukida, who cleared his path toward the gate.

Storm clouds massed above the pines that shaded a cemetery in the Zōjō Temple district. Rows of stone pillars marked graves adorned with portraits of the deceased and offerings of flowers and food. The cemetery was deserted except for a small party gathered around a bare plot of land.

Reiko, Lieutenant Asukai, and her other guards watched a laborer dig a new grave. His shovel upturned soil dark and damp from the rainy season that had come early this year. The fresh scents of earth and pine did nothing to soothe the grief that consumed Reiko.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The gravedigger finished his work. Reiko stooped and hefted a lidded black ceramic urn sitting beside the grave, which contained Tama’s ashes. She gently lowered the urn into the hole. She knelt, bowed her head, and murmured a prayer for the girl’s spirit. “May you be reborn into a better life than the one you left.”

Her escorts waited silent and somber. Reiko whispered into the grave, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

She rose, and the gravedigger filled the hole, tamped down the dirt, and left. Lieutenant Asukai positioned the stone grave-marker that bore Tama’s name. Reiko laid before it the rice cake, the sake decanter, and the bouquet of flowers she’d brought. Rain pelted the cemetery. Lieutenant Asukai opened an umbrella over Reiko’s head and gave it to her. Reiko lingered, reluctant to depart. She’d never expected to mourn so keenly for someone she’d known such a short time. How strange that the death of a virtual stranger could alter one’s life.

She heard hoof beats outside the cemetery. Looking up, she saw Sano enter the gate, followed by Detectives Marume and Fukida. Sano came to stand beside her at the grave while the detectives joined her escorts under the pines. The rain gushed down, drenching the grave and offerings. Reiko took meager comfort from Sano, pressed close against her, in the scant dry haven under her umbrella.

“The servants told me I’d find you here.” Sano regarded her with concern. “What’s going on?”

“I just buried Tama’s ashes. There wasn’t anyone else to do it.” Reiko explained, “I went to the house where she worked to ask if she had any relatives. Her employers said she didn’t. And they weren’t interested in what happened to her body. So I held a funeral for her the day after she died. No one came except my father.” Reiko felt sad for Tama, who’d been so alone in the world, and Magistrate Ueda, who had his own regrets about how Yugao’s murder case had turned out. “And there was no one to give Tama a proper grave except me.”

Sano nodded in approval. “That was good of you.”

“It’s nowhere near enough to do for her.” Guilt plagued Reiko. “You tried to warn me that power is dangerous. You said that things we do with it might seem good at the time, but they can have bad consequences. Well, you were right. I abused my power and I did terrible harm to an innocent girl.”

“It was Tama herself who gave away the fact that she knew too much for Yugao’s good,” Sano pointed out. “If she’d kept quiet, Yugao would have let her go back to town, before I brought the army.”

“Tama couldn’t have been expected to know what or what not to say,” Reiko said. “She was just a simple peasant-whereas I should have anticipated all the risks.”

“You couldn’t have known what would happen. The fire that got Yugao out of jail was an unforeseeable circumstance.”

Reiko was grateful to him because he didn’t heap more recriminations on her for disregarding his advice, but she couldn’t absolve herself. “You warned me that something I didn’t expect could happen. I didn’t listen.”

“Plenty of good came out of your investigation as well,” Sano reminded her. “If you hadn’t delayed Yugao’s execution-and she hadn’t escaped from jail-I might still be searching for Kobori. He might still be assassinating people.”

“Maybe. But how can we know? All I’m certain of is that if I hadn’t kept Yugao alive, she couldn’t have killed Tama.”

“You did the best you could to save her. You risked your own life.”

“I failed. I’m alive. Tama is dead.” Now Reiko acknowledged the problem that bothered her the most. “And I didn’t take on the investigation just because I wanted to discover the truth or serve justice. I was hankering for adventure. I found it. Tama paid the price.”

Sano’s expression grew troubled; Reiko saw that her words had touched a nerve in him. “You’re not the only one who’s ever had selfish personal motives. When Lord Matsudaira ordered me to catch the assassin, I was glad to get out of my boring duties. I wanted adventure as much as you did.”

“But you had orders,” Reiko said, able to justify his behavior although not her own. “You wanted to save lives and punish a murderer.”

“True, but I also wanted to save my own position, which I would have lost if I’d failed. My own honor was at stake. And you’re not the only one whose investigation went wrong.” Pain etched Sano’s bruised face. “I led an army on what turned out to be a suicide mission.”

“That’s a different situation,” Reiko protested. “Those troops were samurai. Fighting that battle was their duty.”

“They’re just as dead as Tama is,” Sano said. “And I’m alive.”