“It’s been so long since we’ve met,” Lady Yanagisawa said. Her intense gaze flickered over Reiko, as if hungry for every detail she saw. Her jealous hatred shimmered like heat waves from a volcano. “How glad I am to see you again.”

How glad you must be for a chance to attach yourself to me and attack me again, Reiko thought. The bad spells weren’t the only reason for her reluctance to leave home. Her five months’ hiding had protected her from Lady Yanagisawa.

“I’m glad to see you, too,” Reiko lied. She didn’t dare offend the wife of the chamberlain, who would punish any offense against a member of his family, even one for whom he cared nothing. “And you, Kikuko.”

The child giggled. Reiko stifled the aversion she felt toward Kikuko. Kikuko was sweet and innocent, and Reiko pitied her, but she was her mother’s obedient tool of destruction.

“I’ve called on you many times, but your servants said you were ill.” A hint of slyness in Lady Yanagisawa’s eyes said her spies had told her differently. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Reiko. She would feel even better if Lady Yanagisawa would leave her alone. Anger at the woman’s machinations filled her.

Lady Yanagisawa lowered her head and gave Reiko a hooded, indirect glance. “I wouldn’t like to think you’ve been avoiding me?” Accusation laced the humble query.

“Of course not. I’ve thought about you often and wished to know what you were doing.” Indeed, Lady Yanagisawa haunted Reiko’s thoughts like an evil spirit, and she’d wondered what new demented impulses bred inside the woman. “That we’re face-to-face eases my mind.”

Face-to-face, she could watch Lady Yanagisawa. It was when Reiko turned her back that disaster happened.

Lady Yanagisawa nodded, pacified, but her expression turned anxious. “You’re not angry at me for…” She paused, then whispered, “For that… incident?”

“I don’t know which incident you’re talking about,” Reiko said truthfully. Did Lady Yanagisawa mean the one that had involved Kikuko and Masahiro last winter? Or the one between herself and Reiko on the Dragon King’s island?

A sigh of relief eased from Lady Yanagisawa. “I was worried that you hadn’t forgiven me. Now I’m so glad to know you’ve forgotten what happened.”

Reiko could never forget the first incident, when a scheme contrived by Lady Yanagisawa had almost killed Masahiro, or the second, when Lady Yanagisawa had tried to kill her. Since these attacks had occurred despite Reiko’s friendship with Lady Yanagisawa, Reiko dreaded to think what unholy destruction Lady Yanagisawa would wreak should they become foes. Hence, she’d forgiven the unforgivable and endured Lady Yanagisawa’s murderous friendship.

Their processions moved together into the Nihonbashi merchant district. Commoners thronged the streets; shops overflowed with furniture, baskets, ceramic dishware, shoes, and clothing, while proprietors and itinerant peddlers hawked their goods to the crowds. The road narrowed, requiring that Reiko’s and Lady Yanagisawa’s processions either go single file or separate.

“I have an idea,” Lady Yanagisawa said, her plain face alight with eagerness. “Let’s go to your house, and Kikuko can play with Masahiro.” She addressed her daughter: “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

Kikuko nodded and smiled. Reiko shuddered inside, wishing she could bar the deadly pair from her home. A feeling of helplessness combined with her anger and hatred toward Lady Yanagisawa and her fear of what the woman might do next.

“Then it’s all settled.” Love and envy smoldered in the gaze Lady Yanagisawa turned on Reiko. Oblivious to the wrongs of her actions, her own motives, and Reiko’s dislike, she said with perfunctory courtesy, “Unless you have other plans?”

“None,” Reiko said.

Yet she did have plans that she forbore to mention. First she must overcome the spells. She would need all her courage, wits, and strength to carry out her second plan: ridding herself of Lady Yanagisawa once and for all, before Lady Yanagisawa killed her or someone dear to her.

5

Sano and Hirata ate dinner in Sano’s office before reporting for their audience with the shogun. Sano described Dr. Ito’s examination of Makino, then said, “Detectives Marume and Fukida are taking the body back to the estate.” He sipped hot tea, warming his hands on the bowl. “What have you accomplished?”

“I questioned everyone at Makino’s estate,” Hirata answered nervously. Every time since Sano had reprimanded him, Hirata feared falling short of Sano’s expectations. “There are a hundred fifty-nine retainers and servants. They all claim they never saw Makino after he retired to his quarters, soon after dark. Most of them spent last night in their barracks. I think they’re telling the truth.”

“Why do you think so?”

Sano spoke in a tone devoid of criticism, yet Hirata hastened to justify his opinion: “Makino had a strict security system. He had guards patrolling constantly, checking on everybody. The men on duty last night vouched for the rest of his staff.”

“What about the guards themselves?” Sano said. He thought Hirata was trying too hard to atone for his misdeed. Sano had already expressed forgiveness to Hirata and wished he would stop torturing himself. Having transgressed Bushido in his own time, Sano felt that one infraction, committed during extreme circumstances, needn’t ruin a samurai. “Did they have any contact with Makino?”

“They say not.” Hirata explained, “The guards patrol in pairs. Each man had his partner to verify his story. Partners are changed every shift. Makino made sure to prevent his guards conspiring against him.”

Chewing a rice cake, Sano nodded, convinced.

“Furthermore,” Hirata said, “Makino had guards watching his private quarters. They say no one was there last night except the four people who shared them with Makino.”

“And those are…?”

“His wife Agemaki. His concubine Okitsu. His houseguest, whose name is Koheiji. And Tamura, his chief retainer.”

“The people we met this morning,” Sano observed.

“Makino’s security system didn’t extend inside his own quarters,” Hirata said. “His staff told me that he liked privacy. There was nobody checking on those four people. I recommend interviewing them.”

“We will,” Sano said. “In the meantime, did you find any other signs left by an intruder?”

“No luck. The footprints outside Makino’s study ended at the edge of the garden. There was nothing to show how an intruder got into the estate-or got out afterward.”

“You asked the guards if they saw or heard anything unusual last night?”

Hirata swallowed tea and nodded. “They say they didn’t. But it’s possible that someone who knew their patrol routine climbed over the wall when they weren’t looking, then sneaked across the roofs to Makino’s private quarters.”

“Did you examine the roofs?” Sano said.

“Yes,” Hirata said. “The tiles were clean and unbroken. If someone did cross them, he was careful.”

Sano pondered as they finished their soup. “There’s another possibility.”

Hirata nodded in comprehension.

“We’d better go, or we’ll be late for our meeting with the shogun.” As Sano rose, he added, “Good work, Hirata-san.”

But his praise didn’t clear the anxiety from Hirata’s face. They both understood that Hirata needed to do much more to regain Sano’s complete trust and their close friendship.

The shogun’s palace occupied the innermost precinct of Edo Castle, at the top of the hill. Sano and Hirata walked through the dusk toward the palace, along paths that crossed formal gardens. Autumn had stripped most of the leaves from the oaks and maples; only the pines flourished green. Guards patrolled outside interconnected buildings with many-gabled tile roofs, white plaster walls, and dark cypress beams, shutters, and doors. Inside, sentries admitted Sano and Hirata to the audience hall. They crossed the long room, where guards stood and attendants knelt along the walls. From the far end of the room, six men watched Sano and Hirata.