“Lady Asagao claims that Kozeri was in the palace when Left Minister Konoe died,” Sano said. “The imperial records don’t show that she entered the compound on that date, but they do show that she was there when Aisu was murdered. She’d gone to see her family. According to them, she arrived in the evening, spent the night in their house in the kuge district, and left the next morning. It was her first visit since she entered the convent fifteen years ago.
“Lady Asagao also said to ask Kozeri how her first husband died. Her family told me she’d been married to Left Minister Konoe’s secretary, a young courtier named Ryōzen-the man who was murdered by Konoe.” Too late, Sano had connected Kozeri with the crime that had put Konoe under the bakufu’s power. “In view of these new facts, I need to question her again.”
Reiko’s expression turned quizzical. “I assumed you’d already questioned Kozeri’s family to double-check her story about her marriage to the left minister. But even if not, wasn’t the information on her first husband in the metsuke dossiers that Chamberlain Yanagisawa sent you?”
To his disgrace, Sano had been convinced enough of Kozeri’s innocence that he hadn’t bothered to read her dossier.
“You’ve already interviewed Kozeri twice,” Reiko said, “and you’ve only just found out that she had the opportunity to kill Aisu, and possibly Konoe? Didn’t you ask her where she was when they died?”
“No,” Sano admitted, hot with embarrassment even though he had a good reason for his negligence. “Whenever I was with Kozeri, I got a peculiar, dazed sensation in my mind, and a feeling that there was something important I was forgetting to ask her. Now I know why. The nuns at Kodai Temple practice shugendo. Kozeri focused her mental energy on my mind and prevented me from asking her where she was during the murders.”
To his consternation, Sano saw disbelief on Reiko’s face. She said, “Kozeri used magical powers to manipulate you? Can that be possible?”
“If the power of kiai exists, then why not the power to control the mind?” Sano said.
Reiko regarded him with doubt. “It seems more likely that you didn’t ask her important questions because you decided she’s innocent. How could you favor a suspect and criticize me for trusting Lady Jokyōden?”
This was dangerous territory. Sano had to steer the conversation away from the subject of what else had blinded him to Kozeri’s deception. He said, “Speaking of Lady Jokyōden, she and Left Minister Konoe were once lovers.”
“Oh? That’s interesting.” Caution veiled Reiko’s gaze. “How did you find out?”
“From Lady Jokyōden herself.” Sano described his interview with the emperor’s mother, then bent an accusing look upon Reiko. “She said you knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Reiko sat up straight, lifted her chin, and said, “She asked me to keep it a secret. I agreed because I thought that her relationship with Konoe was less important than what she gave me. Without Lady Jokyōden’s help, we would never have discovered the conspiracy. I think my reason for trusting her is more credible than yours for favoring Kozeri.” Suspicion narrowed Reiko’s eyes. “Is Kozeri beautiful?”
The atmosphere in the room stretched tight as sails filled with storm winds. Sano forced a laugh. “Kozeri is a nun. Her head is shaved, and she’s not young.”
“That isn’t what I asked, but never mind-I can see the answer on your face.” Reiko stood, regarding Sano with sickened comprehension. “It was your personal feeling for Kozeri, not magic, that made you forget to ask her for an alibi before you decided she was innocent.” Reiko backed away from him, appalled.
Sano heard the hurt beneath the anger in her voice. Rising, he hurried over to Reiko, reaching for her clenched hands.
“It’s not what you think,” he said, stifling the guilty memory of caressing Kozeri. “Nothing happened.”
Reiko clasped her hands behind her so he couldn’t touch them. “How stupid do you think I am?” she cried.
Abruptly, she turned away from Sano. Her shoulders trembled; he heard her ragged breathing. Her pain stabbed his heart. Standing before the painted mural of mountain landscapes, she was so beautiful and proud. Sano experienced a surge of desire for her, which further complicated his emotions. How could he want anyone but Reiko? How could he regain her trust?
He said, “Kozeri interfered with my thoughts. That’s all.” The lie pricked his conscience. “It’s you I love, and no one else.”
“I don’t believe you,” Reiko said in a high, broken voice.
“You don’t believe me because you haven’t met Kozeri.”
“No,” said Reiko, “I haven’t.” Turning, she faced Sano, her tearful gaze hard, like a pond freezing into ice. “But it’s time I did meet her.”
Horrified at the thought, Sano said quickly, “That’s not a good idea. If Kozeri is the killer, she’s dangerous. She might hurt you. I already have the information about her relationship with Left Minister Konoe and his last visit to her. I only have to ask where she was during the murders. There’s no need for you to…”
The contempt in Reiko’s eyes halted his excuses. “But there is,” she said. “No matter whether Kozeri deceived you by magic or by feminine wiles, she’s done it twice, and she could do it again. I’ll have better luck getting answers from her.”
Sano saw two choices, equally unacceptable. He could give Reiko her way and risk the chance that Kozeri would tell her about the episode by the river. Or he could refuse, jeopardize the investigation, and destroy his marriage. With dread and resignation, Sano understood that he had no choice at all.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll go to Kodai Temple tomorrow morning.”
“Not tomorrow,” Reiko said grimly. “I want to go now.”
Reiko in her palanquin, Sano on horseback, and their guards traveled along crowded streets bright with Obon lanterns. At Kodai Temple, they discovered that Kozeri wasn’t at the convent because the nuns had gone to perform Obon dances at Gion Shrine. They journeyed there in silence. Since leaving Nijō Manor, Reiko had exchanged not a single word with Sano; her rage and pain were so intense that she could hardly bear to look at him. She couldn’t believe that nothing had happened between him and Kozeri. She hated her jealousy; she hated Sano for causing it.
A sudden, heart-stopping thought struck her. In all the recent excitement, she’d forgotten to track her female cycle. Now Reiko calculated that her monthly bleeding should have started yesterday. It still hadn’t. Missing twice in a row made pregnancy more certain. She became aware of a new fullness, a slight swelling, in her abdomen. She stared through the window of her palanquin at Sano riding beside her.
“Kozeri seems to spend as much time away from the convent as in it,” Reiko said. “Apparently, religious vows don’t restrict her movements or ban her from the Imperial Palace.”
“Apparently not,” was all Sano said, though she knew she’d stung him by implying that he shouldn’t have assumed a nun lacked freedom of movement or access to the crime scene. Yet her spite shamed her more than it relieved her anger.
Night had fallen, but the moist, smoky air reflected the lights of the city; the sky glowed an eerie purple. Gion’s teahouses glittered with parties. Boisterous drunks thronged alleys lined with “dog screens,” bamboo barriers that kept stray dogs and rowdy pedestrians away from the buildings. Sano and Reiko left their guards outside the shrine and walked through the torii gate. Bright lanterns hung from trees above the gay, noisy crowds that milled among refreshment stalls; gongs chimed incessantly. Reiko heard drumbeats, which she and Sano followed to a courtyard outside the shrine’s main building.
A line of women dressed in billowing white robes glided, swayed, and gestured with slow, ritualistic motions. In the light of lanterns strung across the courtyard, their shaved heads shone like pale moons. A rapt audience watched the nuns, who turned in unison, clapped, and formed a circle. Male dancers wearing loincloths and straw hats surrounded them. As the two groups moved in opposite directions, a melancholy song rose from the spectators.