“Very well,” Ogyu said, gathering up the coins.

He’d freed the merchant, built his villa, and almost forgotten the matter. Then, last spring, he’d called on Lord Niu. Lady Niu waylaid him in the corridor as he was leaving.

After an exchange of pleasantries, she said, “A fine oil adds much to the taste of food. Even the dogs whom the shogun protects would agree, I think. Would you not pay three hundred koban for the best oil a merchant has to offer?”

To anyone else, her comment would have sounded idiotic. But Ogyu realized with horror that it meant she knew about the bribe. He’d lived in fear ever since. Now that fear prevented him from enjoying the memory of all his achievements. He couldn’t think of his spectacular rise to power without fearing that he’d reached the pinnacle of a mountain, only to find himself poised to tumble down its other side. Was this the day Lady Niu would finally use her dangerous knowledge?

The sound of voices outside interrupted his thoughts. Lady Niu had arrived; the servant was ushering her into the tea garden. His mouth dry with anxiety, Ogyu went to meet her. He reassured himself that Lady Niu simply wanted a discussion, as her letter had said. He would talk her out of making trouble for him. Everything would be fine.

When he saw her sitting on the bench, he experienced another qualm. She was dressed with impeccable correctness for the ceremony, as if she, too, saw an advantage in coming prepared to this meeting. Her black outer garment, worn fashionably off the shoulders, covered a black silk kimono patterned with the traditional winter combination of plum blossoms, pine boughs, and bamboo. Regal and beautiful as always, she rose when she saw him.

Ogyu greeted her in the prescribed manner, fighting uneasiness as he bowed. “My lady, welcome to my humble residence. Your acceptance of my invitation to take tea does me a great honor.”

Lady Niu bowed, too. Although she, as a daimyo’s wife, outranked Ogyu, he was a man, a magistrate, and some twenty years her senior. Their bows reflected these considerations, with neither bending lower than the other. They’d begun their sparring as approximate equals, a fact that pleased Ogyu.

“On the contrary, Ogyu-san. It is your hospitality that does me the honor.” Lady Niu’s greeting also followed the conventional pattern. “The tea ceremony offers us a haven from worldly cares.

But havens can be temporary, or even illusory. Is this not so?“ Her lips curved in a smile. The cosmetically blackened teeth, meant to enhance her beauty, made her mouth look like a fount of death.

“Uh, yes. Quite.”

Her remark had no special significance, Ogyu decided as he left her at the cottage’s kneeling entrance and went around to the server’s door. She wasn’t warning him that this peaceful moment must give way to conflict, if it hadn’t already. With increasing trepidation, he passed through the kitchen and knelt in his place at the hearth.

He heard the splash of water as Lady Niu rinsed her hands and mouth at the basin outside, and a rustle of silk as she removed her shoes. Then the door slid open, and she entered on her knees. The humble posture failed to detract from her dignity, as Ogyu had hoped. Nor did her next comment relieve his nervousness.

“ ‘Mountains and plains, all are taken by the snow-nothing remains, ’ ” she recited, reading the haiku on the scroll. She bowed to the alcove and took the seat of honor in front of it.”Ah, such poetry refreshes me. I feel a great sense of leisure, as though I need not hurry back to the bustle of the world. “ She tucked her robes comfortably around herself, as if indeed preparing to stay a good while.

The purpose of the tea ceremony was the ritual Zen purification of body and mind, in surroundings that affirmed man’s oneness with nature. But Ogyu had had another aim in mind when he’d invited Lady Niu. He’d hoped that the ceremony’s rigid confines would somehow defuse a volatile situation. Lady Niu, with her refined manners, wouldn’t speak of unpleasant matters within the sanctuary of the tea cottage. Now he realized that she was fully capable of using the ceremony for her own purposes. She’d already managed to gain an advantage over him by letting him know his scheme had backfired. Caught in a trap of his own making, he was now unable to get rid of her without rushing the ceremony and appearing an ungracious host.

Ogyu’s hands shook as he wiped the inside of the tea bowl with a napkin. “A very astute observation, my lady,” he said weakly.

Please, he thought, let something happen to end this farce of a tea ceremony! Ordinarily he would have taken his time wiping the bowl, enjoying its shape and texture; now, he gave it a few hasty swabs, barely conscious of his actions. Let an earthquake bring down the roof!

The roof didn’t fall. Instead Lady Niu said, “The poem reminds me of a scene from a play that featured Edo ’s foremost onnagata.” She paused, letting him absorb her words. “The play may have also had a line about thunder and lightning. I expect you know it? If not, a certain member of your staff might.”

“Onnagata”: Kikunojo. “Thunder and lightning”: Raiden, the wrestler. “Member of your staff”: Sano Ichirō. Ogyu felt faint as he translated Lady Niu’s oblique references, automatically scooping tea into the bowl. She was telling him she knew that Sano had persisted in investigating the shinjū, and even the identities of those he’d interrogated.

“Yes. I mean no.” Ogyu ladled water from the simmering urn onto the tea, wondering how in heaven her spies had managed to glean that information. His only hope now was to placate her- fast. “Please accept my sincerest apologies for… ”

For what? She hadn’t actually accused him of anything. He couldn’t come right out and say, “For failing to stop Sano like you asked me to.” Not with Lady Niu maintaining the pretense that this was an ordinary tea ceremony. Such a gauche and vulgar violation of tea convention would lose him whatever advantage he still had.

“For my miserable performance as a host,” he finished, hoping she would understand.

Lady Niu did not acknowledge his apology. She was watching the stream of water splash into the tea bowl. “Good water is crucial to preparation of good tea,” she remarked. “Do you get yours from the springs of Hakone?”

“No, no, from Mount Hiei,” Ogyu stammered. Was it sheer coincidence that she should mention Sano’s destination? Picking up the wooden whisk, he began to beat the tea and water into a green froth. He could feel nervous perspiration sticking his clothes to his skin. Now he wished he hadn’t had the braziers lit.

“My stepdaughter Midori recently entered the nunnery at the Temple of Kannon in Hakone,” Lady Niu continued. Then she shook her head, frowning. “Forgive me. Of course you-and at least one member of your staff-know this already.” Pause. “Why else make such a long journey, in spite of a tragedy at Totsuka?”

Bowl and whisk fell from Ogyu’s hands as he grasped Lady Niu’s meaning. Foamy green tea spattered the floor. Moaning, Ogyu dabbed at it with his napkin. Midori was at the Temple of Kannon. That was why Sano had gone there: to question her. His lie made sense now, ideal as it was for disguising the real purpose of his journey. Such outrageous insubordination! Not even Tsunehiko’s murder had stopped him. And how humiliating for Ogyu to learn of it this way. Why hadn’t his spies found out and told him? For what did he pay them?

“I didn’t know your stepdaughter had become a nun,” Ogyu babbled, clutching the fallen bowl. “Forgive me, I didn’t know she was in Hakone. My apologies for my clumsiness.”

Somehow he managed to clean up the mess. Under Lady Niu’s bland stare, he prepared a fresh bowl of tea. She was angry, although she didn’t show it. A fresh wave of nausea lapped at Ogyu’s stomach. She would destroy him. Clinging to the tea ceremony’s false semblance of normalcy, he passed Lady Niu the tea bowl.