14
Sano, Marume, and Fukida rode up to the Imperial Palace just as the temple bells signaled half past the hour of the dog. Outside the palace gate, two sentries-one a Tokugawa soldier, the other an imperial watchman-stood guard.
Dismounting, Sano introduced himself and said, “I’m here to see the emperor, at his request.”
“Yes, Sōsakan-sama.” The Tokugawa soldier bowed, then turned to the watchman. “Go and fetch the imperial escort.”
The watchman went inside the palace. Sano and his detectives waited in the quiet, empty street. Beneath a deep violet sky full of stars, a dark mass of leafy treetops rose above the palace walls. Time passed. The moon’s irregular white orb floated over the hills. Sano grew restless as hunger, thirst, and weariness of body and spirit strained his patience. Looking at the tired faces of his men, he knew they felt no better than he. They’d spent all day investigating the fern-leaf coins, to no avail. On the way to the palace he’d told them about Lady Asagao’s confession and arrest. They shared his doubts, and had loyally seconded his decision to seek out the truth before taking Asagao to Edo for trial. They, too, would suffer if he got in trouble, because their livelihood and honor were tied to his.
Finally the watchman returned with two guards bearing lanterns. They led Sano and his men into the imperial compound.
The palace was a different world at night, enfolded in a darkness more dense than in the city outside. The guards’ lanterns spilled weak light against fences and cast long shadows as they preceded Sano, Marume, and Fukida through the kuge quarter. They met no one. Their footsteps echoed forlornly; the only other sounds were the trickle of water in drains and the ever-present insect songs. The warm, humid air breathed a scent of earth, ashes, and the decay of centuries past.
“This place is eerie,” said Marume. His jovial voice sounded hollow in the gloom. “Give me the noise and lights and bustle of Edo Castle any day.”
Fukida looked around nervously. The same uneasiness infected Sano, who imagined hidden watchers peering at him. In his tired, tense state, the notion of three armed samurai afraid of the dark didn’t seem as laughable as it should have. He wished the guards would hurry, but they maintained a slow, decorous pace.
Entering the imperial enclosure, they crossed a lane and passed through an inner gate to a compound of interconnected buildings. They walked a circuitous route around halls, then through a passage and into an open courtyard surrounded by dark buildings and roofed walkways.
Suddenly the guards divided and fled in opposite directions, taking the lights with them, and vanished.
“Hey, what is this?” Marume demanded, his voice raised in surprised protest.
The compound, plunged into darkness, became a labyrinth of shadows. The white gravel and walls shone faintly in the moonlight, but black gloom filled the walkways and surrounded the buildings.
“Wait. Come back!” Sano called to the guards.
The echo of their rapid footsteps faded into the distance.
“Something strange is going on here.” Suspicion disturbed Sano. “This feels like a trap.”
He and his detectives started across the courtyard, swords drawn, treading quietly. Sano experienced a peculiar sensation, like a silent, windless air current vibrating around him. His skin prickled; his heartbeat accelerated; his breath quickened involuntarily with the physical urgency of fear. His muscles tightened in reaction to an evil presence.
Halting, he said, “What is it?”
Marume and Fukida had also stopped, apparently arrested by the same inexplicable feeling. Sano felt his heart beating harder, and the blood pulsating in his head.
“Where are you?” Fukida muttered, waving his sword as it under attack by a ghost.
“Show yourself!” Marume lunged at shadows.
In the near distance beyond the courtyard, through a walkway and the lacy black foliage of trees, a strange, pale haze tinged the air. The vibrations issued from this eerie brightness, muting noises that sounded like frightened cries. Sano pointed and said, “Whatever it is, it’s over there.”
Marume and Fukida hurried to stand between him and the unknown threat. "Sōsakan-sama, we’re taking you out of here,” Fukida said.
“Come on, let’s go,” Marume said.
But now, Sano’s sense of danger was overpowering. Ignoring his men’s attempt to protect him, he ran across the courtyard, bounded over the walkway, and through a garden toward the light.
The detectives chased after him, calling, “No! Stop!”
Sano came upon a wall that stood between him and the eerie glow. He could still feel the ominous presence, like an invisible net. Then he heard the loud, raspy breathing of some monstrous creature. Battling an instinctive urge to flee, he sheathed his sword. He crouched, arms raised, then jumped. His hands grasped the top of the wall; his feet scraped the plaster as he pulled himself up.
Suddenly the night exploded in a scream of thunderous intensity, as though a million voices had combined into a single horrific sound. Its force knocked Sano off the wall. He landed hard on his back, but he hardly noticed the pain. Rolling facedown, he clasped his arms over his head, trying to block out the dreadful noise that blasted through him. Involuntary sobs wracked him as he felt his muscles tremble uncontrollably, his tendons contract, and his ears throb in pain. Every nerve vibrated; his stomach and chest shuddered. Sano realized that this terrible scream was the spirit cry heard across Miyako the night of Left Minister Konoe’s murder.
He cried out in terror, but he couldn’t even hear himself over the noise. He feared for the safety of his detectives as the killer unleashed the deadly power of kiai.
Who was it?
Despite his agony, Sano experienced a sense of awe. Witnessing this ultimate expression of the martial arts affirmed not only his belief in kiai, but his faith in the Way of the Warrior.
The scream abruptly stopped. A huge void of silence spread across the night. Sano gasped in relief. His ears rang from the blast. He ached all over; his head throbbed; his heart still pounded. Pushing himself to his knees, he inhaled deep breaths of air and looked around. The strange brightness was gone. In the moonlight Sano saw two inert bodies sprawled on the grass nearby.
“Marume-san!” he cried. “Fukida-san?”
To his relief, the men stirred and sat up. “Merciful gods, am I alive or dead?” Marume groaned.
“I’ll never again think of kiai as just an ancient superstition,” Fukida said, gasping.
Sano realized that they’d all survived because they’d been far enough away from the source of the spirit cry to feel only minor secondary effects. He said, “Now we know for sure that Lady Asagao didn’t murder Left Minister Konoe, because she’s locked up in police headquarters. The killer is still out there.”
From beyond the wall came the rapid, irregular rhythm of retreating footsteps.
“Quickly!” Sano said.
He and the detectives helped one another scramble over the wall, into another compound. Out of the darkness before them rose long buildings with piles of wood stacked against the walls and huge stone hearths outside. A hush pervaded the palace, as though everyone knew that the scream heralded death and chose to hide until the danger passed.
“These must be the kitchens,” Sano said in a low, hurried voice. “We’ll spread out. If you see the strange light or feel the vibrations again, make a lot of noise and disrupt the killer’s concentration to prevent another spirit cry.”
Marume and Fukida disappeared into the shadows. Sano crept around the hearths, alert for any movement or other hint of the killer’s presence. He remembered the horrendous noise and power of the spirit cry, and icy fear seeped through him while he searched the kitchen compound. Then he spied a dark shape on the ground outside a building. He approached cautiously and recognized the shape as a prone human figure, lying motionless on its stomach, arms and legs splayed, a sword clutched in its hand.