“Very touching! And quite unrealistic, since my world has vanished forever.”

“If you truly believed that, you would be dead,” she said quietly. “The fact that you continue living tells me that your world can be restored, and that it is your hope. Arai, too, still hopes for it. Let us work together for this purpose.”

He glanced at her, saw her eyes were still fixed on his face, and then looked away. The night was growing colder; he could feel the icy air on his cheeks. He moved a little closer to the brazier.

“I swear on the lives of my sons,” she said. “I’ve come to you not on the orders of the Tribe, or of Iida, or your uncles or anyone else. Well, Kenji told me to come, but he does not know why I was glad to obey him.”When he still said nothing, she went on. “Arai is not alone among the Seishuu in hoping to see Iida overthrown. Lady Maruyama must also desire it. Especially since Iida has demanded her daughter be sent to Inuyama as a hostage next year.”

“Is Lady Maruyama also under suspicion?”

“Less than you. But she was also at Misumi. You spoke to her, perhaps in some secret language, Kitano thinks. And Iida hopes to control her domain either by marriage or by force. He is regrouping his armies, but he will seize on any pretext of disloyalty to act.”

Shigeru sighed deeply. “Are you trying to tell me something about Lady Maruyama?”

“Lord Otori, the groom, Bunta, reports to me. Only to me. This is proof, if you like, of my loyalty to you. Bunta told me of your first meeting and the next one.”

It was what he had feared all along. They had been watched: the Tribe knew, Iida knew. He could not speak; his muscles and blood were frozen.

“I have never spoken of it until now,” Shizuka went on. “No one else knows.” She added after a moment, “You should not meet again. It has become extremely dangerous. Because Bunta reports only to me, I have been able to keep it secret, but I cannot do that much longer. You should not even write to each other, once Lady Maruyama’s daughter is a hostage in Inuyama.”

He believed now that she was telling the truth and saw suddenly how much he needed someone like her, with all her Tribe skills, her long-standing connection with Arai, her relationship to Muto Kenji. Her appearance was the unexpected move that, as in Go, opened up the whole game.

“There are things I would like to find out about the Kikuta.” He drew the writing table toward him and took up the inkstone, then said, “It needs water. Wait here. I’ll fetch us some wine. And do you want something to eat?”

She shook her head. He stood and went to the door, slid it open, and walked through the next room toward the kitchen. Chiyo was nodding off beside the hearth. He told her to heat some wine and then go to bed.

She was full of apologies. “Lord Otori has a visitor? I did not know.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I will take the wine myself.”

Understanding leaped into her eyes. “Your visitor is a woman? Excellent, excellent. You won’t be disturbed, I’ll make sure of it!”

He did not correct her but smiled to himself as he returned, carrying the small ceramic flask and cups.

“I’m afraid Chiyo thinks you have come for some amatory purpose,” he said, setting the tray on the floor.

Shizuka filled his cup and then he filled hers. “In another life, maybe. There are many kinds of love,” she said almost flirtatiously. “Let us drink to the love of friendship.”

He could not help but reflect on the strangeness of his life, that he should be sitting with this woman from the Tribe and pledging friendship with her. The wine was warm and fragrant, sending its cheerful message coursing through his body.

He poured the water into the fish-shaped dropper and prepared the ink. Then he took up the brush. “Tell me about the Tribe.”

She took a deep breath. “You must never utter a word of this to anyone. If the Tribe ever find out, they will kill me. I know my uncle has become a friend of yours. He, above all, must never know what I am doing.”

“You must realize that I can keep secrets,” Shigeru replied.

“I believe you to be the most devious person I know, outside the Tribe,” Shizuka said, laughing and adding quickly, “It is a compliment!”

He poured more wine. It had cooled rapidly.

“We work in groups and networks,” she said as he wrote down the details. “Each member only communicates with his or her senior in the hierarchy-they are not allowed to speak of anything important among themselves. Our children are trained in this. It is second nature to us. Information flows only one way-upward to the Master of the family.”

“Kikuta and Muto?”

“They are the leading families, supposedly equal, but the Kikuta are currently more powerful. I am from both families. My father was Muto-he passed away when I was a child-and my mother Kikuta.”

“Your mother was Kikuta? In what year was she born?”

“She turns forty this year.”

Forty years ago-could she have been his father’s child? Only if either Shigemori or Shizuka had got the years wrong. It was entirely possible. Most people had no very clear idea when they were born-names were frequently changed, dates altered.

“I can bring you copies of the genealogies,” Shizuka said. “Blood ties are very important to the Tribe. We like to keep careful records of who marries whom and what skills each union produces in its offspring. Why are you particularly interested in the Kikuta?”

“I believe I may have a half brother among them,” he said, and for the first time shared his father’s secret with another person.

“It’s extraordinary,” she said when he had finished. “I have never heard even a rumor of this.”

“So you do not think there was a child born?”

“If there was, its mother must have successfully hidden the fact that the father was not from the Tribe.”

“Is it something you can find out? Without revealing it to anyone else?”

“I will try.” She smiled. “It’s uncanny almost, that you should have a relative among the Kikuta!”

“And Bunta-is he a relation of yours?”

“No. He is from the Imai family. Most of the Imai men work as grooms and servants, as do the Kudo. The fifth family, the Kuroda, are somewhere in the middle. They have many of the special skills of the Tribe-I’m sure Kenji has demonstrated these to you-and a characteristic practicality that makes them superb assassins. The most sought-after at the moment is Kuroda Shintaro, who currently is employed by the Tohan.”

“Someone tried to assassinate me three years ago,” Shigeru said. “Were they from the Tribe?”

“One was. The others were Tohan, disguised as masterless warriors. In fact, Iida paid the Kikuta family highly for this attempt and was furious when it failed. Since then, Kenji has ordered the Muto to leave you alone: he has some influence with the other families but not with the Kikuta.”

“Why has Kenji taken me under his wing? Sometimes I feel as if I am his tamed animal.”

Shizuka smiled. “There is an element of that. Kenji is an unusual person-supremely talented but a loner. He will become the Muto Master very soon. He is virtually head of the family already, for no one dares cross him. Your friendship intrigues and flatters him. He considers that you belong to him; he says he saved your life, though he has never told me the full story. He admires you as much as he admires anyone. I believe he is genuinely fond of you. But I must warn you, his first loyalty will always be to the Muto family and to the Tribe.”

“Can you deliver messages to Maruyama?”

“I could take one for you now, but as I said before, you and Lady Maruyama should not attempt to write to each other again.”

“This assassination attempt is a disaster for us,” he said, allowing himself now to express his feelings. “We had hoped to seek permission to marry next year.”

“Do not even consider it,” Shizuka said. “It will enrage Iida and arouse his suspicions further.”