“That’s the type that keeps the police busy,” Hoshina said. “The dregs of society.”

Discouragement filled Sano. “It seems unlikely that they would have friends or relatives capable of the massacre and kidnapping.”

“Besides, if people of their kind wanted revenge on me, they would attack me on the street, and they wouldn’t wait years to do me in,” Hoshina said. “They certainly wouldn’t concoct such an elaborate, dangerous plot. They haven’t the intelligence, let alone the nerve. Or the troops.”

Another consideration caused Sano to doubt that the list would point him to the kidnapper. “All the men you killed were citizens of Miyako,” he said. The ancient imperial capital was a fifteen-day journey from Edo.

“You know I lived in Miyako until three years ago,” Hoshina said. “I did most of my police service there.”

Sano knew he must determine whether any of the men killed by Hoshina had connections to someone in Edo who could have heard about Lady Keisho-in’s trip and organized the kidnapping. But he anticipated a long, fruitless search.

He said, “You haven’t killed anyone in Edo?”

“There’s been no reason,” Hoshina said. “I oversee the police force now. I don’t chase down criminals in the streets anymore.”

Sunlight pierced the clouds and slanted through the tower windows. The room was stiflingly hot; its walls oozed moisture. Sano rose and wiped sweat off his brow. He thought of Reiko imprisoned somewhere, probably under conditions worse than these. He thought of the unknown kidnapper waiting for Hoshina’s execution, ready to slay Reiko, Lady Keisho-in, Midori, and Lady Yanagisawa. Anxiety mounted in Sano because he and Hoshina hadn’t yet identified a single good suspect.

“Maybe the ransom letter doesn’t refer to a killing you committed with your own hands,” Sano said. “Were there any criminals you arrested who were later convicted and executed?”

He and Hoshina compiled a list of names that was longer than the first but posed the same problems. The dead men had all been of low class, and all Miyako residents-because the chief police commissioner didn’t personally arrest criminals, and Hoshina hadn’t sent anyone to the execution ground since he’d come to Edo. None of his executed criminals had apparent connections to anyone wealthy or powerful enough to manage the kidnapping.

Sano controlled an urge to take out his frustration on Hoshina. He stood leaning against the wall and contemplated the other man, who gazed up at him in abject misery.

“Can you think of any deaths you didn’t cause, but someone might still hold you responsible?” Sano asked.

Hoshina shook his head, then suddenly started as recollection hit him. “There was one man-a Miyako merchant named Naraya. About seven years ago I arrested his daughter for theft. She died in jail, awaiting trial. Some time later, I ran into Naraya in town. He said her death was my fault and he would make me pay. I’d forgotten about that. I probably wouldn’t have remembered now, except that last year I heard Naraya had moved his business to Edo.”

The merchant was a manufacturer and purveyor of soy sauce, Sano knew. He’d been unaware of a connection between Naraya and Hoshina, but had heard enough about Naraya to recognize that here at last was a candidate who fit his idea of the kidnapper.

“Naraya is one good suspect,” Sano said. His mood lifted, and his success stimulated his own memory of an incident two years ago. “How about Kii Mataemon?”

“He attacked me with his sword during that argument in the palace,” Hoshina said in a tone that spurned culpability. “The guards grabbed him before I had to fight him. It was his own fault that he died.” Drawing a weapon in the palace was a crime punishable by death, and Mataemon-son of the daimyo Lord Kii-had been forced to commit ritual suicide. “But I suppose his clan might blame me.”

Sano felt a spring of jubilation, for the Kii clan represented an even more promising lead than did the merchant. A stunned air came over Hoshina: He’d finally absorbed the fact that his enemies were responsible for the kidnapping and his troubles. During the whole conversation he’d stayed crouched in the same position, but now he sat flat on the floor, his legs extended. He gazed into the distance, like a man marooned on an island, watching a ship sail across the ocean to rescue him.

“I’ll interrogate the Kii clan and the merchant Naraya,” said Sano.

“Do it and rescue Lady Keisho-in before I go mad in here.” Hoshina jumped to his feet and prowled the room, as if the hope of deliverance had unloosed a restless energy. He stalked to a window, grasped the bars, and stared outside. “I wish there were something I could do to save myself.” A tortured cry burst from him: “I can’t bear this idleness!”

Then his posture slumped, and Sano understood that affairs of the heart weighed as heavily upon Hoshina as did the threat of death. Sano felt compelled to offer solace, despite every bad deed Hoshina had done him.

“Chamberlain Yanagisawa didn’t abandon you,” Sano said.

Hoshina spat a gust of disbelief. “You don’t see him breaking down the door to comfort or rescue me, do you? No-he’s lost all concern for me.”

“He told me to report to him after I talked to you,” Sano said.

“He just wants to know what I told you that might help him find the shogun’s mother.” Contempt withered Hoshina’s voice but didn’t hide his grief. “He can’t sully himself by associating with me, so he lets you do his dirty work. You’d better watch out that he doesn’t steal the credit for everything you accomplish.”

“He set us up for you to call in that favor and me to save your life,” Sano said.

Hoshina turned, still holding the window bars. He regarded Sano as if he’d lost his mind, then gave a glum chuckle. “No. That’s too devious even for the honorable chamberlain.” Hoshina resumed gazing outside, his head and clenched hands black against the sunlight that streamed around him. “He cut me loose the moment he read the ransom letter.”

Sano realized that in some ways he knew Yanagisawa better than Hoshina did. He also realized that trying to convince Hoshina that Yanagisawa hadn’t forsaken him was a waste of time.

“I’ll be going now,” Sano said, then called the guards to unbar the door. “If Naraya or the Kii clan is involved in the kidnapping, I’ll soon find out.”

Before leaving the castle, Sano stopped at Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s estate. The antechamber was crowded with officials who sat smoking and chatting while they waited to see the chamberlain. But a clerk hurried Sano past the other men and into the reception hall. There, Yanagisawa knelt on the dais. Secretaries held a scroll open on a writing desk before him. Three black-robed officials, seated below the dais, watched him ink his jade seal and stamp the document. When Yanagisawa saw Sano standing at the threshold, he dismissed the secretaries and officials. He gestured for Sano to kneel near him.

“Did you learn anything useful from the honorable police commissioner?” Yanagisawa said.

Sano noticed that Yanagisawa didn’t ask how Hoshina was. The chamberlain’s businesslike manner indicated that he cared only whether Hoshina had provided clues to the kidnapper’s identity. Perhaps Yanagisawa didn’t want to display personal concern for Hoshina when someone might overhear, but Sano wondered if Yanagisawa had indeed abandoned Hoshina. Certainly, the way he referred to Hoshina by title instead of name indicated that he considered their relationship a thing of the past. Sano thought he must have misjudged Yanagisawa.

“Here’s a list of all the deaths associated with Hoshina.” Sano handed the paper to the chamberlain. “We identified two primary suspects.” He named Naraya and the Kii clan, then described the deaths that had involved them and Hoshina. As he spoke, Yanagisawa listened intently but without comment. “I’m on my way to see them. Chances are that Naraya or someone in the Kii clan is… ” Sano recalled the mysterious poem. “The Dragon King.”