“Then Kozeri really did see him. She told me the truth.” Reiko dropped to her knees. Wide-eyed, she pressed a hand to her throat as if choking.

“What’s wrong?” Alarmed, Sano knelt beside his wife.

To his delight, Reiko leaned into his embrace. He felt her trembling as she spoke through sobs: “Last night Kozeri said she’d tried to seduce you, but you wouldn’t let her because you love me. I didn’t believe her then, but I can now. And I know that she did use magic to deceive and entice you, because she tried the same thing with me. Please forgive me for doubting you!”

Sano held Reiko tight. Almost weeping himself in the bliss of their reunion, Sano whispered, “It’s all right now.” He thanked fate for the way the threads of the case had woven together.

After a moment Reiko disengaged from him. “Enough,” she said, wiping away tears. Her voice was brusque, but her face shone with relief and happiness. “We have work to do.”

They began going through the papers she’d sorted. Even with a war looming on the horizon, Sano found a keen pleasure in their task. Still, as he pored over documents, his hope of a successful search waned.

“I’m not finding anything useful,” he said. “Maybe the information is in code.”

Reiko laid aside a scroll and took up another. “If so, I didn’t recognize it. The meaning of all these writings seems perfectly clear to me. I can identify the purpose of each document, and there are no ambiguous phrases. I haven’t seen anything that I would judge as not what it appears to be.”

… ambiguous phrases… the meaning… seems perfectly clear… not what it appears to be… Reiko’s words formed a mesh of sound that drifted like a net through Sano’s mind and snared a dim, amorphous memory. Where had he recently read an ambiguous phrase whose meaning had seemed clear, but might not have been what it seemed? Instinct told him that the answer was critically important. Holding his breath, Sano concentrated. The memory crystallized into bright clarity.

“We’re looking in the wrong place,” he said.

Reiko glanced at him in surprise. “You mean you don’t think the information is in Left Minister Konoe’s papers?”

“Yes, I do,” Sano said, “but these aren’t his only papers.” He hurried to the cabinet. “Konoe also wrote those letters to Kozeri.” With trembling fingers Sano took out the last letter. “This was written seven days before Konoe’s murder. Listen.” He read the angry expressions of unrequited love, concluding with the passage he’d recalled:

“ ‘Soon the forces of defense and desire will clash upon the lofty, sacred heights where spires pierce the sky, feathers drift, and clear water falls.’

“It sounds like a poetic allusion to sex between a man who wants it and a woman who doesn’t,” Reiko said, “which describes the relationship between the left minister and Kozeri.”

“That’s what I thought at first. But what if he’s describing a different kind of struggle, at a real place? ‘Forces of defense and desire’ could mean the Tokugawa army and the rebels who want to take over Japan.” Another inspiration struck Sano. “Didn’t you say that Konoe had asked Kozeri to meet him at the palace to celebrate a ‘special occasion?’ ”

Reiko nodded; comprehension sparkled in her eyes. “He asked her six days after he wrote the letter, and one day before his death. Maybe he was hinting in the letter that he’d discovered the rebels’ strategy-”

“And where they planned to launch the attack,” Sano said.

“The ’special occasion’ was the revolt, which would fail because Konoe was going to report it to the bakufu in time for the army to-”

“Head off the siege of Miyako. Then the bakufu would-”

“Reward Konoe by granting his request to shut down the Kodai Temple convent and force Kozeri to go back to him,” Reiko finished triumphantly.

Exhilarated by their shared reasoning, they laughed together. “I found the clue on our first day in Miyako, but 1 didn’t recognize its significance,” Sano said. "Now we just have to figure out where this place is.”

“Lofty, sacred heights,” Reiko mused. “Maybe Konoe was talking about a mountain, but if so, which one?”

“Spires could mean a temple,” Sano said, “though there must be as many of those as there are mountains in the Miyako area.”

“Drifting feathers and clear water?” Reiko shook her head.

“That part doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“I’ve read something like that before, in writings about Miyako…” Sano thought hard, but couldn’t grasp the memory. “My knowledge of the city is limited, but a local citizen might recognize the reference.”

He rushed out the door and found the innkeeper’s wife kneeling in the corridor, her ear to the wall. She gasped in alarm and said, “Hello, master.”

“Please come in,” Sano said, hurrying her into the room. He read her the passage from the letter. “Does that suggest anything to you?”

The woman smiled, obviously relieved because he didn’t scold her for eavesdropping. “Oh, of course. It means Kiyomizu Temple-the Clear-Water Temple on Sound-of-Feathers Mountain. A very beautiful place. You must see it while you’re in Miyako.”

“I expect I will. Many thanks for your help.”

Now Sano recalled what he’d read. Kiyomizu Temple, strategically situated on high ground, had been for centuries a favored spot for mobilizing troops and a secret rendezvous site of spies and rebels. He and Reiko exchanged jubilant smiles, but immediately sobered as their gazes moved to the window. It was nearly dusk.

There wasn’t much time to head off the rebels’ attack.

33

It was the last night of Obon. The time had come for the visiting souls of the dead to leave the world of the living. Throughout Miyako, people threw stones on roofs to drive the spirits away. As the pale pink sunset sky deepened to magenta, crowds converged upon the Kamo River. They launched small straw boats, each containing incense, a lantern to light the spirits’ way to the netherworld, food for the journey, and written prayers. The water became a sparkling stream of lights. Huge bonfires in the shape of auspicious characters burned on the hillsides, guiding the spirits back to the cemeteries.

Marching southeast from Nijō Castle, the Tokugawa army, two thousand strong, made slow progress through streets flocked with citizens. “Make way!” shouted the banner bearers at the head of the procession. “Take cover. Go home!”

Gunners, archers, and mounted troops pushed through the heedless crowds. Sano, clad in full armor, rode at the end with the commanders. He said to Marume and Fukida, “The rebels probably chose tonight to attack because they thought the entire militia would be busy participating in the Obon rites.”

“If not for the emperor’s decision to announce his plans, they might have succeeded in capturing Miyako,” said Marume.

“They might still cause mass destruction,” Fukida said, “if we don’t get to Kiyomizu Temple in time.”

The army crossed the Gojo Bridge. Below, tiny bright boats floated downstream. For Sano, the scene had the atmosphere of a nightmare. The long Tokugawa peace had lulled the samurai class into complacency; never had he imagined riding off to civil war, except in fantasy. But fantasy had become reality. Beneath his metal breastplate, Sano’s heart thudded like the urgent cadence of a war drum. He smelled the sharp odor of nerves and anticipation rising from his comrades. Would he fulfill the ultimate samurai destiny of dying in battle for his lord? Sano offered a silent prayer that he and Reiko would be safely reunited. She was in Nijō Manor, protected by her guards, and she’d promised that if the war reached the city, she wouldn’t join the fight. Sano hoped she would keep that promise.

Someone rode up beside him. “Are you ready, Sōsakan Sano?”

It was Chamberlain Yanagisawa, mounted on a black steed. He wore a magnificent suit of red-lacquered armor and a golden-horned helmet. Since learning the rebels’ plans, he’d applied his impressive organizing skills to the task of defending the regime. He’d marshaled the best fighters and gotten them under way in an impossibly short time, while leaving forces behind to guard the city. Sano had been amazed to discover that inside the corrupt chamberlain beat the heart of a samurai.