“So might your people have. Would you let them get away with my murder?”

“No, my beloved.” Lord Matsumae’s manner alternated between masculine and feminine. “I just want to be sure not to miss anything.”

Sano listened, appalled. Now Lord Matsumae was not only speaking in Tekare’s tongue, he was carrying on a conversation with her spirit, which had gained a stronger hold on him.

Gizaemon whispered, “I warned you.” He ordered three guards to take Hirata to the camp and said, “He causes any trouble, you’ll be posted to the far north.”

“Take Marume and the Rat with you,” Sano said to Hirata.

Hirata went off with his escorts. Sano said, “Lord Matsumae, I would like permission for my wife to visit yours.”

“I advise against that,” Gizaemon said.

“Oh?” Lord Matsumae scraped dirt off a hawk’s talons with a knife. “Why?”

“Lady Reiko might try to run away again. She should be confined to her quarters, where we can watch her.”

“She’s promised me that she’ll behave herself,” Sano said.

“It’s still not a good idea,” Gizaemon said. “Lady Matsumae is in mourning. She won’t want to be bothered with entertaining a guest.

His concern for Lady Matsumae seemed to Sano more an excuse to keep her and Reiko apart than motivated by genuine sympathy for the bereaved woman. “Perhaps my wife’s company would cheer up Lady Matsumae,” Sano said.

“I think not,” Gizaemon said. “Better forbid this visit, Honorable Nephew.”

Sano wondered whether Gizaemon had guessed that Reiko was working with him on the murder investigation and intended to pump Lady Matsumae for evidence. Sano’s suspicions toward Gizaemon increased.

“What do you think, my beloved?” Lord Matsumae said. He replied in Tekare’s voice, “I think it’s a good idea,” then said in his own voice, “I’ll grant permission for Lady Reiko to visit my wife.”

Now Sano wondered if he-or Tekare-suspected that his wife had been involved in the murder.

Intent on the falcon he was examining, Lord Matsumae gave no sign that Sano could see. “Just make sure the guards stay near her at all times, Uncle.”

“As you wish.” Gizaemon’s dark look said how much he hated being overruled by a ghost although not by his nephew.

The birds were calmer now. Only the largest, a magnificent eagle with gold plumage, still shrieked. Lord Matsumae slipped a gauntlet on his left hand and whistled. With a great flap of wings, the eagle leaped onto his fist. He rewarded the eagle with a dead mouse. Sano thought how barbaric seemed the ancient sport of falconry. Since Buddhism had taken root in Japan some eleven centuries ago, hunting had fallen into disfavor because Buddhist doctrine forbade eating meat. Most samurai kept falcons as a mere bow to tradition. But Ezogashima was a world apart from mainstream Japanese society. Here, blood sport flourished. But Sano was more interested in a different kind of hunt: the search for a killer.

What else are you going to do?“ Lord Matsumae asked. Detective Fukida and I will examine the scene of the murder,” Sano said.

That’s a waste of time,“ Gizaemon scoffed. ”There’s nothing left to see.“

“I still need to have a look.” Sano wondered what Gizaemon didn’t want him to find.

“That’s fine with me.” Lord Matsumae unfastened the tether that tied the eagle to its perch. “And me,” echoed Tekare’s voice. He cast the bird off his fist. It flew in circles while the other birds shrieked and flapped as if envious of its freedom. “Anything else?”

“I have a request from the Ezo,” Sano said. “They ask permission to hold a funeral for Tekare.”

“A funeral? To bury her in the ground?” Lord Matsumae exclaimed in horror. “You want to take her away from me!” He clutched his arms as if embracing his dead mistress in them. “Her remains are all I have left of her. How can you ask me to give them up?”

“The Ezo say a funeral will help her cross over to the spirit world,” Sano said. “She’ll stop haunting you.”

“But I don’t want her to cross over. I don’t want her to leave me!”

Lord Matsumae waved his arms. One struck the eagle as it flew by him. Confused or frightened, it screeched and flew straight at Sano.

“Look out!” Detective Fukida said.

The eagle came so near Sano that he could see the luminous flecks in its golden eyes. Ducking, he felt wings brush his head. Lord Matsumae guffawed and cackled. Sano dodged the eagle as it dived repeatedly at him while the other falcons set up a din of screeches. Fukida ran after the bird and yelled. It swooped toward him, then Sano again. Hands raised up to protect himself from its talons, Sano said, “A funeral could reveal the truth about Tekare’s murder.”

“Nonsense,” Lord Matsumae began, then said in Tekare’s voice, “Wait, my lord. He may be right.”

“But I don’t want you to go to the spirit world, my beloved. I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I won’t. A funeral can’t take me away. I want to know who killed me.

Clasping his hands, Lord Matsumae beseeched the empty air around him: “Do you promise?”

“I promise. Now let the honorable chamberlain live so he can finish what he’s started.”

“All right, my beloved.”

Lord Matsumae held up a scrap of meat and whistled. The eagle alighted on his fist. It gulped the meat and folded its wings. Sano was relieved and amazed that he’d been saved by a ghost.

“The funeral will be held tomorrow morning,” Lord Matsumae decided. “In the meantime, Chamberlain Sano will continue his investigation. Take him to the scene of the murder, Uncle.”

Gizaemon scowled, unhappy to be overruled yet again. “All right, Chamberlain Sano.” You win this time, said his tone. “Let’s get it over with.”

The way to the murder scene lay out the back gate of the castle, down the hill through stands of trees, and along a trampled path that divided into a fork. One branch led farther downhill, toward town. The other led along a ridge edged by bare trees. Following Gizaemon onto this path, Sano could see the ocean, gray and dull like beaten steel.

“Not that I wouldn’t like to get rid of that corpse in the teahouse, but you shouldn’t have mentioned a funeral to my nephew,” Gizaemon said. “That always sets him off.”

“You could have told me,” Sano said.

“Next time listen when I warn you to stay away from him.” The path inclined gently into forest that was thick enough to shut off all sight of Fukuyama City, and quiet except for an occasional bird’s squawk. Sano could imagine himself in the wild heartland of Ezogashima instead of a short walk from civilization. “What was Tekare doing out here?”

There’s a hot spring up ahead.“ Gizaemon chewed a sassafras toothpick. Sano smelled acid as well as the spice in his breath. He must have indigestion and need the sassafras to calm his stomach, women in the castle like to bathe in it.”

“They come all the way out here to take a bath?” Sano said, puzzled by what seemed a strange custom.

Takes a long time to heat water in the winter. But there are springs all over Ezogashima, naturally full of hot water all year round. The women can come here whenever they want a bath. They don’t have to wait for the tub to warm up. And the water has healing powers.“

Glancing at the snow on the path, Sano saw his footprints and Gizaemon’s overlap other, smaller ones. The spring got a lot of use even though it was a cold walk, from the castle. He smelled its moisture and warmth, and a whiff of sulfur.

“Where was the spring-bow set?” Sano asked.

“Up there.” Gizaemon stopped and pointed to a patch in the forest where broken stumps remained from trees that had fallen. It lay along a clear line of shot to the path.

“The trip-string was tied to that,” Gizaemon said, indicating a pine beyond the path’s opposite side.

Sano and Fukida examined the trunk of the pine. They moved on to the place where the murder weapon had stood. The snow there looked untouched, except for a few tiny animal tracks.