“Was it Lady Matsumae?” Fukida asked.

“If you want me to say any more, you have to let me live,” Daigoro bleated. “You have to pardon me for stealing from Lord Matsumae.”

Marume slapped his face. “You’re in no position to bargain.”

“So then kill me. When I’m dead, you’ll be sorry.”

Sano was not only running short on time, he was sick of Daigoro, a small fish compared to the one he wanted. “Oh, all right.” He gave the man a last, hard shake, then released him. “Now talk.”

Daigoro giggled with triumphant relief. “The women were speaking Ezo language.”

“Then she was a native,” Sano said. “Which one?” He’d already guessed the identity of the woman most at odds with Tekare, whom Tekare would have followed into the night. But he needed to be sure.

“I never saw her. She just disappeared.”

She’d hidden in the forest until she heard Tekare scream and fall, which had told her the trap had sprung. Then she’d returned to the castle as if nothing had happened.

“But I can tell you what I heard,” Daigoro said. “I understand Ezo. She said something like, ”You always make me do everything for you. You take everything from me. You won’t even let me have somebody you don’t want. Well, I’m not going to put up with your selfishness anymore!“

“Tekare said, ”Oh, yes, you will. I’m the shamaness. I’m Lord Matsumae’s mistress. You have to do what I say.“ The other one said, ”You’ll have to catch me first.“”

You always make me do everything for you. You take everything from me-Sano remembered Reiko saying that Tekare had received the best clothes, jewelry, and food in the native village, whereas lesser mortals, her kin included, had been forced to serve her.

You won’t even let me have somebody you don’t want. “Somebody” meant Urahenka, the man Tekare had married and her sister loved.

It was Wente who had murdered Tekare.

Accompanied by the two guards from the keep, Wente plodded across the back courtyard of Fukuyama Castle, leading four dogs harnessed to a sled laden with a big, lumpy bundle covered by a blanket. “Hey,” the sentry at the gate said to her, “where do you think you’re going?”

Wente bit her lips, too frightened to speak, so one of the guards answered for her. “She’s going out for a ride.”

“Oh, no, she’s not,” the sentry said. “Nobody leaves the castle, on orders from Gizaemon-san.”

“I have Lord Matsumae’s personal orders to let her go,” the guard bluffed.

Reiko, curled under the blanket on the sled with provisions that the guards had given her and Wente for their journey, felt her heart seize with fear. If she and Wente couldn’t get out of the castle, how would they rescue Masahiro? There was nothing she could do except stay hidden in the cramped darkness under the scratchy blanket. If the sentry found her trying to escape, all was lost. Hugging her knees to her chest, Reiko listened and tried not to breathe.

“Well, all right.” The sentry sounded unconvinced yet afraid to disobey his lord.

Reiko heard the gate creak open and felt weight depress the sled as Wente sat in front of her. The sled began moving, slowly at first, scraping and bumping on iced-over snow. Then they were skimming fast, faster. The dogs barked gaily. Reiko clung to the sled, which zoomed downhill, veered around trees. Bumps jarred Reiko’s body. Soon her legs went numb. After what seemed like hours, Wente shouted to the dogs. The sled coasted to a stop.

“You come out now,” Wente said.

Reiko flung off the blanket. Icy air frosted her face. Patches of white sunlight and vivid blue shadow blinded her. She squinted as she staggered to her feet. Tingles cramped her legs. She was on the crest of a low, sparsely forested hill. The city and castle were gone. The only signs of them, of civilization, were thin smoke spires that rose from the distant south. In the other directions stretched winter forest and snowy plains. To the north, hills climbed toward lavender blue, ice-capped mountains. Reiko felt awed by the beauty of the landscape, horrified by its vastness that dwarfed her hope of finding Masahiro.

Wente was beside her. “Give me boy’s things.”

Reiko handed Wente the toy horse in the leather pouch. Wente offered it to the dogs. They sniffed the pouch that Masahiro had handled many times. Their breath steamed off their tongues as they panted. They raised their heads, barked, and raced off, spurred by the scent of their quarry.

Wente jumped onto the sled and grabbed the reins. Reiko barely managed to climb on and sit behind her before she and the sled and dogs sped away. “Hold on!” Wente cried.

31

Sano, Marume, Fukida, and the Rat fanned up the hill toward the castle, hiding behind trees so the sentries in the watch turrets wouldn’t spot them. Marume carried a coil of rope they’d stolen from a shop in town. Some twenty paces from the wall, Sano raised his hand to stop, and they lay flat. He pointed to a section of the wall screened by spindly pine saplings. Marume tied a slip-knotted loop in the rope, crawled up to the trees, and hurled the loop at the iron spikes that topped the wall. He missed; the rope fell.

“It’s not going to work,” the Rat said, less worried than hopeful.

Marume tried and failed again.

“Maybe we should go back to town,” the Rat said, “and try to hitch a boat ride home.”

“Shut up,” Fukida said.

On the third try, the loop fell over a spike. Marume tugged the rope, tightening the knot, then turned and beckoned.

“I’ll go first and be the lookout,” Fukida said.

He joined Marume, took hold of the rope, braced his feet on the wall, and shimmied up. It was slow going with his heavy boots, clothes, and sword. He crouched between the spikes, looked into the castle, then dropped down the other side of the wall. Marume followed even more slowly, hindered by his greater bulk. Then he was over.

“Our turn,” Sano said.

The Rat hung back. “I’m scared.”

“Come with me, or fend for yourself.” Sano crawled up the hill. The Rat groused, but scuttled after him. Sano handed him the rope. The Rat climbed, nimble as his namesake. Then Sano hauled himself up. His muscles strained; too much desk work had left him out of shape. His wounded arm ached; his feet skittered on the wall. He was making so much noise that he expected to hear an uproar at any moment. But he reached the top and saw the other men waiting below him in a passage between the wall and a building. Sano dropped, and they started moving.

He was still bent on revenge. Wente deserved to die for committing murder, for all the trouble she’d caused even if inadvertently, but he was sorry the killer had turned out to be one of the natives. He’d wanted to think of them as more noble than the Japanese who’d mistreated them. Now he had to admit that they were just as capable of jealousy, hatred, and violence as anyone else. He had qualms about executing a woman, especially one who’d tried to help Reiko. But he must slay Wente. Then would come Lord Matsumae’s turn to die for murdering Masahiro.

Crossing the castle grounds, Sano caught his first glimpse of the troops, and he immediately knew something had changed. They were still busy running around, but they seemed less organized, more agitated. They paused to chat in groups, and as they talked, their gazes roved. Crouched behind a bush with his men, Sano cursed under his breath.

“They know we’re out. It’s us they’re looking for.”

“Well, that means we don’t have much time,” Marume said, just as someone shouted, “Hey! There they are!”

A pack of troops chased them. Bows zinged; arrows whizzed and pelted the snow around their feet as they ran. The troops called more men to join the chase. Sano and his comrades burst into the palace’s back garden. Looking for a place to hide, Sano spotted a loose strip of lattice askew at the base of the building. He and Marume pried it back. They and their comrades crawled under the building. He pulled the lattice shut just as troops arrived.