“The truth is that our lady is innocent,” Lady Pansy said with staunch, childish loyalty.

Lady Soldier picked up Lady Matsumae’s hands, peeled the gloves off them, and held them up. “Can you imagine these setting a spring-bow?” The fingers were tapered and soft, typical of a high-class woman who’d never done any physical work in her life.

An alternative had become clear to Reiko. “You wouldn’t have had to do it yourself,” she said to Lady Matsumae. She turned a significant gaze on the ladies-in-waiting. But instead of being frightened because her suspicion had turned to them, they smiled.

“Well, I suppose I know how to set a spring-bow,” said Lady Smart. “My father is a trade official, and my family spent a lot of time in Ezo country while I was growing up.”

“The same with me,” Lady Soldier said.

“I knew that Tekare liked going to the hot spring at night,” Lady Pansy simpered.

“We could have plotted to kill her,” Lady Soldier said, “and punish her for hurting our lady. But even if we did, you’ll never be able to prove it. And we’ll never tell.”

Her smug smile was reflected on the faces of her two friends. Lady Smart said, “I’m afraid this visit with us has been a waste of your time, Lady Reiko. You came after one person you thought might have killed Tekare. Instead, you found four of us. Are not too many suspects as bad as too few?”

Reiko experienced the same weird disorientation as when she’d first met the women. On the surface they were as familiar as any at home, but inside they were infected with savagery native to Ezogashima. Violence and murder were in their blood, under the veneer of civilization.

Lady Matsumae beheld Reiko with an expression of hard, humorless triumph. “I think it’s time you left.”

15

The sound of angry voices came from the Ezo camp as Hi-rata and his companions approached it. He and Detective Marume, the Rat, and their guards arrived to find the barbarians facing off against three Matsumae troops. The barbarians had bows and quivers slung over their shoulders; they wore snowshoes made of bent wood and leather straps. Two of their dogs were harnessed to a sled. Barbarians and troops shouted at one another in Ezo language.

“What are they saying?” Hirata asked.

The Rat looked especially miserable this morning. He sniffled and coughed. His eyes were bleary, and frozen mucus matted his whiskers. “The Ezo want to go deer hunting. The Japanese won’t let them.”

Hirata had never been hunting, even though the idea had always intrigued him. The Buddhist religion prohibited slaying animals as well as eating meat. So did Tokugawa law, upheld by the shogun, a devout Buddhist. But there were exceptions to law and tradition. People weakened by illness or injuries were given meat stews and broths to cure them. Edo had a flourishing wild game market for that purpose. Here in Ezogashima, the barbarians hunted in order to survive, and the Japanese usually allowed them-but not today.

“The Japanese say the barbarians have to stay in camp. Lord Matsumae’s orders,” said the Rat.

Urahenka, the onetime husband of Lord Matsumae’s mistress, raged at the troops, who retorted. Hirata jumped into the fray. “Let them go,” he said.

Both sides looked at him in surprise. The lead Matsumae soldier said, “You don’t give orders around here.”

“I’m investigating the murder,” Hirata said, “and I have Lord Matsumae’s permission to question the barbarians. I can talk to them while they hunt.”

“You want to go hunting with them?” The leader and his men were flabbergasted. The barbarians muttered among themselves, trying to figure out what was being said-except for Chieftain Awetok, who watched Hirata with unmistakable comprehension.

“Yes.” Hirata wanted a new experience as well as a chance to speak with the Ezo away from their masters.

“Well, we’re not letting you,” the leader said. “If they run away, we’ll be blamed.”

“I won’t let them,” Hirata said. “My men and I will bring them back.”

“That’s what you think. You don’t know these sneaky devils. As soon as they get to the forest, they’ll give you the slip. You’ll be lucky if you find your way home before you freeze to death.”

“Please listen to him,” the Rat said with a loud sneeze. “He’s right.”

“We’ll compromise,” Hirata said. “I’ll take just those two”-he pointed at Urahenka and Chief Awetok-“if they’ll promise to be good.” He turned to the Rat. “Tell them what I said.”

The Rat obeyed. The two Ezo nodded. Urahenka looked wary, Chieftain Awetok curious.

“I’ll leave the others behind. If their friends don’t come back, you can take it out on them,” Hirata said to the soldiers. “Well? What do you say?”

As the soldiers exchanged glances, sly grins crossed their faces. They liked the idea of giving their superior from Edo a taste of northern life. “Suit yourself,” the leader said, and conveyed the information ›n Ezo language to the barbarians.

Chieftain Awetok pointed at Hirata’s, Fukida’s, and the Rat’s feet. He spoke a terse sentence.

“He says that if we’re going hunting, we’ll need snowshoes,” said the Rat.

“Well, Honorable Chamberlain, it looks as if you’ve taken your investigation as far as it can go,” said Gizaemon.

“Not quite,” Sano said.

Snow had begun falling, and as they and Detective Marume trudged from the scene of the murder to the castle, swirling white flakes filled the sky and landscape. The footprints they’d left on their way out were almost filled. Sano could barely see the castle, its walls and turrets dissolved into a white blur. They reached it to find the sentries absent from the gate. Gizaemon muttered in disapproval.

“They should know better than to desert their post. As soon as I can get somebody to let us in, I’ll take you to Lord Matsumae. He’ll be wanting to hear what you’ve found out, even though it’s nothing.” He stalked to the base of one of the turrets that flanked the gate. “Hey! Anybody up there?”

Sano spoke in a low voice to Marume: “It’s time for a talk with Lord Matsumae. He’s the next step in our investigation.”

Marume gave Sano a look of surprise. “You can’t be thinking he’s the killer.”

“The killer is often the person who was closest to the victim.” Sano spoke from years of experience as a detective. “In this case, it’s him.”

“But he was in love with the woman,” Marume said.

“Love can be a stronger motive than hate. Particularly when the loved one had a talent for stirring up jealousy.”

“But he’s letting you investigate the murder. Would he do that if he were guilty?”

“Maybe.” Who understood what went on in the mind of a madman apparently possessed by the victim’s evil spirit?

A soldier popped his head out a window in the turret. Gizaemon told him to open the gate. Soon Sano, Marume, and Gizaemon were inside the castle. Snow blanketed the courtyard, and the air seemed colder here than outside. As they walked through passageways, the castle seemed deserted, a ghost village. The palace had the air of a beast hibernating.

“I would prefer to see Lord Matsumae alone,” Sano said.

Gizaemon looked weary of arguing. “Fine. Your man and I will wait nearby.”

Lord Matsumae was seated in his private office, poring over ledgers by the light of a lantern hung from the ceiling. Heat simmered up through grilles in the floor, from charcoal braziers underneath. When he saw Sano at the threshold, he said in a loud whisper, “Come in. Please sit down. I’m reviewing the account books. They seem to have become disordered.”

Surprised to find him so calmly and productively occupied, Sano entered, knelt, and glanced at the ledgers. Even reading upside down, he could tell that the entries for the past few months were sketchy, the writing almost illegible. Lord Matsumae’s officials must have been too busy coping with him to keep the books.