Magistrate Ueda turned to Haru. “What have you to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t do it.” Head bowed, the girl spoke in a low but distinct voice.

“Say specifically what you did not do,” Magistrate Ueda instructed her.

“Kill Commander Oyama.”

“What about the woman and boy?”

“I didn’t kill them, either,” Haru said, and Reiko could see her trembling with fear.

“Did you set fire to the cottage?” Magistrate Ueda asked.

“No, master.”

The magistrate seemed unaffected by Haru’s pained earnestness. “There has been much evidence presented against you,” he said gravely, “and in order to prove your innocence, you must refute it. Let us begin with the death of your husband. Did you burn his house?”

“No, master.” Haru sniffled, weeping now. Reiko saw Sano betray his disdain with a slight compression of his lips, but her father’s expression remained inscrutable.

“Did you go to the cottage the night before the fire?” the magistrate asked.

“No, master.”

“Then how did you come to be found there?”

“I don’t know.”

“What had you been doing previously?”

“I can’t remember.”

Reiko listened, upset that Haru was repeating the same story that hadn’t convinced Sano. It probably wouldn’t convince the magistrate, either. Reiko believed more strongly than ever that Haru did know something about the crimes and wished the girl would tell the truth, rather than forfeit her last chance to clear herself and take her secrets to the grave.

Magistrate Ueda thoughtfully regarded Haru. “If you expect me to believe in your innocence, then you must offer some explanation for why you were at the cottage and how three people died in your vicinity.”

Cowering, the girl shook her head. Reiko watched in anxious dismay. Surely Haru realized what a poor impression she was making. Was she concealing facts that would incriminate her?

“Have you anything more to say?” Magistrate Ueda said.

“I don’t know why I was there,” Haru mumbled. “I didn’t set the fire. I didn’t kill anyone.”

The magistrate frowned, clearly weighing her denials against the case Sano had presented. Reiko felt her heart pounding as she hoped her father would see that there wasn’t enough evidence to convict Haru. Yet she feared that Haru deserved conviction.

At last Magistrate Ueda said, “I shall now render my verdict.”

And his verdict would be final, Reiko knew, whether justice was served or contravened. Suddenly Reiko couldn’t watch passively any longer. “Excuse me,” she blurted.

Everyone stared in astonishment at the spectacle of a woman talking out of turn. Reiko, who had never spoken in a public assembly, experienced a daunting embarrassment.

“What is it?” Magistrate Ueda’s cold manner said that she’d better have a good reason for interrupting the trial.

Seeing Sano eye her with consternation, Reiko understood that what she intended to do would probably destroy any hope for a reconciliation between them. Sano would divorce her and keep their son, as he had the legal right to do. Her courage almost failed, until she thought of what would happen if she didn’t act. Haru would be convicted; the Black Lotus would go on to commit more attacks and murders; Sano would be blamed for failing in his duty to protect the public. The shogun would order Sano, Reiko, Masahiro, and their relatives and close associates executed as punishment. Only Reiko could save them all, by doing her best now.

Reiko forced herself to say, “I wish to speak on behalf of the accused.” She saw gladness dawn on Haru’s bruised face, as though the girl anticipated salvation.

“Honorable Magistrate, unsolicited witnesses should not be allowed to interfere with justice,” Sano hastened to say.

He believed that the magistrate had intended to decide in his favor, Reiko thought. Magistrate Ueda addressed her with polite formality: “What can you add to that which has already been said?”

“I-I can present evidence that indicates the crimes were committed by someone other than the accused,” Reiko faltered, intimidated by the audience’s stares.

Sano hadn’t presented this evidence because the law didn’t require him to do so. Reiko’s chest constricted with hope that her father would agree to weigh her testimony in his decision, and dread that he wouldn’t.

“Spurious accusations against other persons are neither evidence nor relevant to the trial of Haru,” Sano argued.

A fleeting, pained expression clouded Magistrate Ueda’s features: He was loath to take sides in a public dispute between Reiko and Sano. Then he said, “Since a life is at stake, I shall grant Lady Reiko the privilege of speaking.”

Rejoicing that his mercy had prevailed over Sano’s objections, Reiko rose and walked toward the dais. As she passed Hirata, she glimpsed his undisguised horror. She knelt beside the shirasu, and Haru welcomed her with a grateful smile. Sano fixed on her a look that seemed to say, Please don’t do this. Trust me, and soon you’ll understand.

Reiko ignored him. In a voice that quavered with nervousness, she described her impressions of Haru as troubled but harmless. She drew courage from her certainty that she was doing the right thing, no matter what Sano thought, and clung to her persistent feeling that events would somehow exonerate Haru. She told about Abbess Junketsu-in, Dr. Miwa, and Kumashiro’s suspiciously determined efforts to blame Haru for the crimes and prevent Reiko from making inquiries into the Black Lotus sect. Reiko mentioned her encounter with Pious Truth and his story of torture, slavery, and murder at the temple.

Mutters of surprise rumbled in the audience. Magistrate Ueda listened in stoic silence, while Sano watched Haru. The girl’s face acquired a strange expression that momentarily unbalanced Reiko. It almost seemed as if Haru didn’t want the Black Lotus maligned. Didn’t she understand that incriminating the sect was to her advantage?

Recovering, Reiko described the murder of Minister Fugatami and his wife, the beating Haru had received in Edo Jail, and the attack on herself and Sano.

“Honorable Magistrate, these incidents represent the Black Lotus’s efforts to destroy its enemies,” she concluded breathlessly. “The sect killed Minister Fugatami to prevent him from censuring it, and tried to assassinate the sōsakan-sama and myself because we were probing its affairs. Its thugs hurt Haru because she refused to confess.” Now Reiko’s voice rang out in a passionate conviction she didn’t feel: “The Black Lotus, not Haru, committed the arson and murders, and has framed her to protect itself.”

A short silence followed. Then Magistrate Ueda said in a neutral tone, “Your points are noted. Now I offer the sōsakan-sama the opportunity to address them.”

Reiko felt her heart sink at the thought that Sano might undo whatever good she’d accomplished.

“Lady Reiko has portrayed you as the innocent victim, slandered and framed by Black Lotus members,” Sano said quietly to Haru. “But it’s not just they who have seen you for what you are.”

Haru gazed up at him, wary and uncomprehending.

“The people who know you best can also attest to your evils,” Sano said, then turned to Magistrate Ueda. “There are two witnesses I didn’t present earlier because their personal situation is sensitive. I request permission for them to testify now.”

Alarm shot through Reiko. Who were these witnesses? What was Sano up to?

“Permission granted,” Magistrate Ueda said.

Sano nodded to Hirata, who left the court, then returned with a middle-aged couple. Both man and woman wore the modest cotton kimonos of peasants. They huddled together, their faces apprehensive.

“I introduce Haru’s parents,” Sano said.

Haru cried joyfully, “Mother! Father!” Shedding her meek, frightened demeanor, she rose up on her knees and leaned toward the couple. “Oh, how I’ve missed you! And now you’ve come to save me!”