Now tears quenched the rage in the Dragon King’s eyes. “Ah, my dearest. That man deprived us of so much.” Clouds moved over the balcony as rain trickled through the foliage; a shadow crossed his expression. “If only I could make up to you for those lost years, and the life stolen from you.”
Here Reiko spied opportunity. “Perhaps there is something you can do,” she murmured.
“What is it you wish, my dearest?” His grip on her hand relaxed into moist fondling.
The plan Reiko had devised to free herself and the other women from the Dragon King must wait, because Midori’s plight took precedence. “My friend is ready to bear her child,” Reiko said. “I wish to have a midwife for her.”
To her distress, Reiko felt the Dragon King withdraw from her, although his body stayed in place. A barrier lowered behind his gaze. “That is out of the question,” he said brusquely. “I cannot allow some woman to come here, then tell others what she’s seen.”
He had a sense of self-preservation despite his madness, Reiko understood. Even though he was deluded enough to think she embodied the spirit of Anemone, he knew he’d committed serious crimes for which the Tokugawa would punish him if he got caught. He recognized his need for secrecy.
“But my friend needs help. She and the baby may die otherwise.” Reiko saw the annoyance flicker across her companion’s features, and realized he didn’t care what happened to Midori. Altering course, she curved her lips into a seductive smile and eased closer to him. “You are such a good, kind, generous man. Surely you wouldn’t let an innocent woman and child come to harm?”
“I’d like to grant your wish, but it’s impossible,” the Dragon King said, his voice hardening. “Besides, we’re far from anyplace where a midwife might be found.”
Reiko’s heart sank at the implication that they were also far from anyone who might rescue her. “Would you at least move us to a better room?” Comfort might help Midori, and if Reiko could get away from the tower, escaping might be easier. “The roof of the tower leaks. The rain falls on me. It’s too cold at night, and too hot in the daytime.” Reiko peered at the Dragon King from beneath demurely lowered eyelids and coaxed, “This is a small thing that I ask.”
The Dragon King shook his ungainly head. “It pains me to deny you, but I must. The tower is the easiest place to guard prisoners. You and your friends are secure there.”
Reiko was frantic because all her wiles had done nothing except encourage the Dragon King’s attachment to her. Winning his trust seemed impossible. Was her plan doomed to fail? Would her ruin be for naught? Then inspiration struck.
“There’s something I must tell you,” Reiko murmured. She crooked her finger at the Dragon King. Her smile promised intimate revelations. She felt like a Yoshiwara courtesan wooing a client. “Lean close, and listen.”
She knew Ota and the other guards were eavesdropping, and she didn’t want them to hear. The Dragon King inclined his head toward her. Reiko whispered in his ear: “You are surrounded by enemies. They’re here on this island, among your men.”
The Dragon King shot her a sidelong glance of surprise.
“They don’t approve of your relations with me,” Reiko whispered. “They’re jealous. They want to separate us. Last night I heard them talking. They’re plotting to kill me.”
“This can’t be. My men have orders not to harm you or your friends without my permission.” But consternation tinged the distrust with which the Dragon King beheld Reiko.
“It’s true,” Reiko said, hastening to play upon the doubts about his authority over his men and the fear of betrayal that she sensed in him. “They’re going to kill me, throw my body in the lake, then tell you that I ran away.”
His brows slanted downward in distress. “Ota and the rest of my personal retainers would never go against my wishes. But the other men… ” He fingered his chin, brooding. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have employed people of their kind. I’ve never quite trusted them.”
Reiko was gratified to have planted a seed of suspicion that would poison the Dragon King’s mind toward his henchmen. “I don’t want to die,” she said. Tears of genuine desperation spilled from her eyes. “Please, you must protect me!”
He conceded with a decisive air: “Yes, I must.”
Encouraged, Reiko said, “Then please keep your men away from my friends and me.” Getting rid of the guards would benefit an escape attempt. “Put them where they can’t hurt us.”
“But I can’t leave you unguarded,” the Dragon King said as rational thought penetrated his fear of treachery.
“I promise I won’t run away,” Reiko said. “Now that we’ve found each other again, I can’t bear to leave you.”
“Even if you stay, your friends will escape.”
“They’re too afraid to go without me,” Reiko said. “And you can move us all someplace where you can watch us yourself.”
The little influence she had over the Dragon King was more than she had over the guards. The odds that she could trick one madman outweighed the chance that she could fight past his army. Wherever else he put the women was bound to be less secure than the tower, and possibly closer to the boats.
The Dragon King vacillated, scowling as he pondered whether the threat to Reiko-and Anemone-necessitated changing the arrangements he’d made. Reiko turned their clasped hands so that his lay on top. With the fingertips of her other hand she stroked his hand with gentle, lingering, sensuous movements, as she often did to Sano. Her spirit grieved, because voluntarily touching the Dragon King seemed a betrayal of Sano, and the first willing step toward losing her virtue.
“The tower is too far from you.” Reiko trailed her fingers along the Dragon King’s wrist. “Move me into the palace, where we can be close.” Her whisper promised nights of wild passion. Her seductive manner hid anguish.
The Dragon King moaned. While Reiko continued her caresses up his arm, bumps rose on his skin; he closed his eyes, and a shudder coursed through him. Even as she dreaded to arouse him into ravishing her, she sensed him fighting the impulse. He suddenly tore himself away from Reiko, strode outside to the balcony, and slumped against the rail, his breath rasping.
Although heartily relieved that the seduction need go no further, Reiko experienced confusion at his response. What had held him back from the carnal union that she knew he wanted? She thought of Midori laboring in the wet, bleak prison, and her spirits sank deeper. If this first attempt at manipulating the Dragon King failed, what chance had her plan to free herself and her friends?
“I will think about what you’ve asked,” the Dragon King said, his back still turned toward Reiko. Then he called, “Ota-san! Take her away.”
26
The government archives inhabited a mansion in the official quarter of Edo Castle. Here Sano had worked when he’d first joined the bakufu, before the shogun had assigned him to investigate crimes. In its main study, clerks moved aside the desks where they copied, sorted, and filed documents. The chief archivist, a pudgy, middle-aged samurai named Noguchi, spread huge maps of Japan on the cleared floor space. Sano and Chamberlain Yanagisawa knelt to examine the maps, which were brilliantly painted in blue to represent rivers, lakes, and oceans, green for plains, and brown shades for mountains. Inked characters marked cities and the names of landowners.
“Dannoshin Minoru must have had a particular destination in mind when he abducted the women,” Sano said.
“He wouldn’t count on finding a suitable prison on the spur of the moment,” Yanagisawa agreed. "A man who’s been plotting revenge for twelve years is neither impulsive nor inclined to trust in luck.”
“And a man as clever as Dannoshin would know enough to avoid attracting notice while he’s holding the shogun’s mother captive,” Sano said. “He wouldn’t take rooms at an inn or rent a house in a village, because people who’d heard about the kidnapping would get suspicious.”