16

Sano crouched in the underbrush beneath tall cedars, gazing up a steep dirt road at a mansion that stood behind a plank fence in the hills north of Miyako. Dew drenched his trousers. Early morning mist drifted over the woods, diffused the daylight spreading across the sky, and obscured his view of the city. A shrill chorus of birds rose in the treetops.

From a distance, the house appeared unoccupied. The second-story windows visible above the fence were shuttered, and during the hour since Sano had arrived, he’d observed the property from all angles without seeing any sign of activity. However, the gate bore the spiral crest that Yoriki Hoshina had described while giving directions to the mansion, and Sano could feel Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s nearness like a warning tingle in his spirit. Now he moved cautiously uphill through the woods.

The closest other houses lay far above and below on the hillside, and the main road passed to the east; Sano knew because he’d already scouted the area and discovered that Yanagisawa had chosen an isolated place for his secret activities. Sano paused at the edge of the level clearing where the mansion stood. The fence was some fifteen paces away. Through the cracks between the planks Sano saw a human shape move past: a patrolling guard. After a short interval a larger figure passed. Sano timed the guards’ routine by counting silently as he watched them circle around again. Feeling the strain of an eventful, sleepless night and the long ride from the city, he mustered his flagging energy.

He waited for the right moment, then sped over to the fence. He climbed it and balanced on top. With a quick glance, he took in the scene below: a garden of shrubs, boulders, and grass outside a rustic house with latticed windows and half-timbered walls. He heard footsteps on the gravel path that bordered the garden. Here came a samurai whom he recognized as one of Yanagisawa’s bodyguards. Sano jumped down in front of him. The guard grunted in surprise. When he reached for his sword, Sano struck him hard in the face. The guard reeled backward, crashed to the ground, and lay still.

More footsteps signaled the approach of the second guard. Sano ducked behind a boulder. He watched the man come upon his comrade’s body and squat to examine it. Sano sprang out and kicked the second guard on the chin, knocking him unconscious. He used the guards’ sashes to bind their hands and feet, then crammed their socks into their mouths as gags. His pulse racing, he checked the grounds for more guards. He prayed that he wouldn’t have to kill anyone. Although violence was a samurai’s natural domain and an inevitable part of Sano’s work, every death he caused haunted him.

There were no other guards outside the house. Sano slipped quietly in the back door. Tiptoeing along dim corridors, he peered into the kitchen, reception room, and study, all furnished with the simple elegance of a wealthy samurai’s summer home, all unoccupied. In the front entryway he found a third guard seated against the wall, asleep. Sano stole up to the guard, grasped his neck, and pressed on the main blood vessels. With a jerk and a whimper, the guard passed from sleep to unconsciousness. Sano quickly tied and gagged the guard. He crept up the stairs.

On the second floor, he found another corridor. Near the end was an open door from which light spilled. Sano drew his sword. As he moved closer, he heard violent coughing. He stood to one side of the door and peered through it into a bedchamber. The light of a hanging lantern glowed on gilt murals and lacquered furniture. On a futon in the center, Chamberlain Yanagisawa crouched on knees and elbows, retching into a basin. He wore a white silk under-kimono. His complexion was a ghastly shade of gray, his expression agonized. Again and again he retched, producing merely a thin drool that ran down his chin. At last he fell back on the bed, gasping.

Sano entered the room, nonplussed because he’d never seen Yanagisawa in less than perfect health and had expected to find the chamberlain either asleep or celebrating the downfall of his rival. What was wrong with him?

At the sound of Sano’s footsteps, Yanagisawa turned his head. He saw Sano. “You,” he said in a tone of terrified disbelief. Pushing himself upright, he shouted, “Guards!”

To Sano’s relief, no one came. “All your men are incapacitated at the moment,” he said, advancing on Yanagisawa. For once, the balance of power was weighted on his side. The knowledge elated Sano. “It’s just you and me.”

The chamberlain gulped as if he might get sick again, but he lurched to his feet and faced Sano with courage rooted in arrogance. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I’ve come to talk about your sabotage of my investigation into Left Minister Konoe’s murder,” Sano said. “You thought you could solve the case yourself, impress the shogun, and destroy me at the same time, didn’t you?”

Yanagisawa ignored the question; he seemed not to have heard it. He said, “How did you find me?”

“Yoriki Hoshina gave me directions,” Sano said.

“Hoshina? He told you I was in Miyako?” The disbelief in Yanagisawa’s voice was even more pronounced than when Sano had appeared before him. “He sent you here?” The chamberlain shook his head in vehement denial. “No. He couldn’t have.”

“He did.” Confusion halted Sano a few steps away from Yanagisawa. Something was wrong with this conversation. Why was Yanagisawa more disconcerted to learn how he’d been discovered than surprised to see Sano alive? “Didn’t you receive a report of my murder at the Imperial Palace?”

Yanagisawa took a step toward Sano, moving carefully, as if in pain, his expression unfathomable. “Where is Hoshina?”

“In a safe place,” Sano said, increasingly perplexed. Yanagisawa must have been waiting tor the news. Surely one of his agents would have rushed it to him. “I put Hoshina under protection after I convinced him to tell me about your plot against me.”

A ragged laugh issued from Yanagisawa. Again he shook his head, but this time at some private, bitter joke. He didn’t even try to deny the existence of a plot. As Sano tried to make sense of the chamberlain’s reaction, various aspects of the situation that hadn’t seemed directly related came together for him. Aisu’s presence in the palace, Yanagisawa’s illness, and the scheme his enemy had previously used added up to a startling picture.

“You were there with Aisu, weren’t you?” Sano said, dazzled by enlightenment. “You forged the message from the emperor that brought me to the palace. You and Aisu lay in wait, planning to arrest the killer and take credit for solving the murder case after I was dead-the same trick you tried when I ambushed the Lion. But something went wrong. The killer attacked you and Aisu instead of me. It was you two that I heard crying out right before the spirit cry. Somehow you escaped, and the only harm you suffered is sickness from the after-effects of exposure to the force of kiai.”

Clutching his stomach, the chamberlain winced. He dropped to his knees on the futon. His eyes, with their dark, liquid irises and blood-veined whites, watched Sano intently. Sano was disturbed to realize how close his own scheme had come to failing. Yanagisawa might have sent someone to track him down and stop him before he got this far. “You weren’t surprised to see me alive,” Sano said, “because even though you heard about my death, you knew the truth-that Aisu was the killer’s victim, not I. You must have been waiting for Hoshina to come so you could plan what to do next.” Yet an important question remained. “How did you set up my murder?”

Yanagisawa suddenly lunged toward the head of the bed beneath him. He thrust his hand under the futon. Sano leapt forward and jabbed the point of his sword against Yanagisawa’s throat. The chamberlain cried out in alarm. His hand jerked up, holding a dagger that he’d obviously meant to hurl at Sano. He fell on his side, straining away from the sword.