The Shogun's Daughter (6 page)

“Why didn’t they stay at my estate?”

“Your estate was taken away, too.”

Panic seized Hirata. “Where are my wife and children?”

“Sano-
san
took them in,” Arai said.

Guilt increased Hirata’s dread of seeing his family and Sano. Midori was probably furious because he’d left her and the children homeless. And Hirata had not only forsaken his duty to Sano, he’d stuck Sano with the responsibility for his family. Hirata was tempted to turn around and leave town again, but he couldn’t. Along with scores to settle, he had apologies and amends to make. He might as well start now.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Arai. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Arai said with prompt sincerity.

Hirata could see that although Arai was unhappy with the situation, he bore Hirata no grudge. A master could do whatever he liked, and his retainers must accept it without complaint. That was Bushido. Hirata felt even guiltier: Arai was a better samurai than he.

“May I ask where you’ve been?” Arai asked.

“Traveling around the country.” Hirata couldn’t say,
I’ve been running from three men who pretended to be my friends. I discovered they were thieves and murderers. Wherever I went, Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano tracked my aura and followed me. I’ve barely managed to stay one step ahead of them. And I’m terrified because their combat skills are better than mine and I know they’ll find me sooner or later.

Arai frowned, puzzled. “Why did you leave?”

Hirata couldn’t say,
Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano tricked me into joining their secret society.
They’d sworn him to secrecy about it.
They said its purpose was to do magic rituals and fulfill a cosmic destiny for the world. But they lied. Our rituals evoked the ghost of a warlord who promised us supernatural powers. The price we pay for them is helping him destroy his enemy. And his enemy is the Tokugawa regime. I ran away rather than commit treason with Tahara, Deguchi, Kitano, and the ghost.
The penalty for treason was death for the traitor, his family, and all his close associates. And Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano would kill Hirata, his family, and Sano if he talked, or if he opposed them. They wanted to bring him back into the fold, against his will.

“I had business to attend to,” Hirata said.

After an uncomfortable silence, Arai said, “I apologize for prying.” Bushido decreed that a master didn’t owe his retainers explanations, but Hirata saw that Arai was hurt by his evasiveness. “Well,” Arai said, “I’d better not keep the other people waiting.” He dipped his writing brush in ink and wrote Hirata’s name in his ledger. The precious bond between master and retainer was severed during that moment. “Why are you coming to Edo?”

Because nowhere is safe from Tahara, Deguchi, and Kitano. There’s no use running anymore. It’s time to face the consequences of what I’ve done and make things right with my master.
“Official business,” Hirata said.

Arai wrote the answer in his ledger and started to gesture Hirata toward a gate built across the highway, where guards eyed the travelers who passed through the open portals into town. “Wait. I just remembered. A samurai who came through yesterday asked about you. His name was—” Arai paged backward through his ledger. “Tahara.”

Dread mounted so high and fast in Hirata that it dizzied him. Tahara was already here. Deguchi and Kitano couldn’t be far away. “Oh? What did this Tahara say?” Hirata asked, trying to sound casual, as if he didn’t know the man.

“He wanted to know if you’d entered Edo. He asked all the officials. We said no.”

But the men had guessed that he would return. They were waiting for him. He had to shut down the secret society and banish the ghost to the netherworld forever before they could make good on their threats, but he didn’t know how. Hirata walked through the gate as if through a portal to hell.

5

AS SOON AS
Lady Nobuko and her lady-in-waiting left the mansion, Reiko turned to Sano and Masahiro. “This could be our most important investigation ever. Where shall we begin?”

Sano saw excitement sparkle in her eyes. He felt a stab of consternation.

Reiko had helped him investigate crimes since they were first married fourteen years ago. No ordinary wife, she was the only child of one of Edo’s two magistrates, and her widowed father had given her the education usually reserved for sons. She’d learned martial arts along with reading, writing, history, literature, and arithmetic. She’d practically grown up in his Court of Justice, listening to the trials he conducted. Sano’s investigations had often benefited from her talent for detective work, but this time he must manage without her help.

“
We
aren’t beginning this investigation,” Sano said. “Not with you in your condition.”

“Oh,” Reiko said, taken aback, as if she’d forgotten her pregnancy.

“It’s not safe. You’re supposed to rest,” Sano said.

“That’s right, Mother,” Masahiro said. “You can’t go out.”

“You’re a child. You can’t tell me what to do,” Reiko protested.

Sano smiled a half amused, half worried smile. “Our child is grown up enough to be protective toward you. You should listen to him.” It was nice to have another man on his side, but the last thing he needed was discord within his family.

“But there may be women who need to be questioned.” Reiko’s strength as a detective was eliciting information from women who might withhold it from a male investigator, exploring their private world and discovering clues hidden from Sano.

Sano couldn’t help bristling at her implication that he couldn’t handle the investigation. “I’ll cope.”

“Aren’t you supposed to start your new job as Chief Rebuilding Magistrate?”

“Yes.” Sano concealed how daunted he was by the responsibility. “But I’ll make time to investigate Lady Nobuko’s allegations.”

“I can look for clues,” Masahiro said eagerly. “Pages can go everywhere and nobody notices them.”

“That’s good.” Sano was glad to see Masahiro find something positive about his demotion. But Masahiro, for all his intelligence, was still only twelve years old. Sano must not expect too much from him, even though he’d performed impressively during past crises.

The same misgivings clouded Reiko’s eyes: She didn’t want to put Masahiro in a situation a child couldn’t handle. “Who else do you have to help?”

There was no use trying to hide the truth. “My former allies might be willing to help, but bringing them in on the investigation would make it harder to keep it secret.” Seeing Reiko’s and Masahiro’s worried faces, Sano tried to look on the bright side. “I still have Detective Marume.” Marume served as his chief retainer in Hirata’s absence. “He and Masahiro and I can manage the investigation by ourselves.”

Masahiro nodded, pleased to be included as an equal with the men. Reiko twisted her hands together, fraught with her desire not to be left out. “Can I help if I don’t leave home?”

“What can you do at home?” Sano was skeptical.

“I can talk to witnesses. They can come to me.”

“Maybe, if they’re women. But it could still be dangerous. It’s not always easy to tell the difference between witnesses and murderers. And you’ve been attacked by women before.”

“You still have enough troops to protect me.” Reiko seized Sano’s arm. “I can’t sit idle while Yanagisawa and his son are set to rule Japan and our family’s future is at stake!”

She’d helped him solve difficult cases before. Sano couldn’t forego the slightest advantage this time. “Very well,” he said, although reluctant to put his wife and unborn child at the slightest risk. “But you have to promise: You don’t leave this house. Witnesses and clues have to come to you. And my troops are with you every moment you question anyone.”

Reiko rewarded him with a brilliant smile. “I promise.”

*   *   *

TAEKO SAT AGAINST
the lattice-and-paper wall in the corridor outside the reception room. The shogun’s wife and her lady-in-waiting had left a short while ago. Taeko listened to Sano, Reiko, and Masahiro talking as she leafed through a book she’d made of small rectangular sheets of rice paper tied with black ribbon through two holes. On the pages were paintings she’d done, of the kitten, a pine tree, a butterfly, a spray of cherry blossoms. They didn’t look enough like the subjects or as good as the pictures of them in her mind. Taeko wished she could paint like real artists. But her mother said she couldn’t have art lessons as her brother did.

Taeko couldn’t grasp the meaning of everything she’d heard, but she understood that the shogun’s daughter had been murdered by Yanagisawa, the bad man who was always causing problems for Masahiro’s family. She understood that Masahiro and his father were in trouble and proving that Yanagisawa had killed the shogun’s daughter would get them out of it. Interesting things seemed about to happen.

Masahiro rushed out of the room. Taeko felt her heart begin to sing and dance. She smiled. For as long as she could remember she’d liked Masahiro more than anyone else.

“Masahiro!” she called, tucking her book under her sash.

He paused and turned. “What?”

Taeko suddenly felt shy even though she’d known him all her life. He was so tall and strong and handsome! “Where are you going?”

“To do some investigating.”

Taeko scrambled to her feet. “Can I go, too?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’re too young, and you’re a girl,” Masahiro said bluntly.

Taeko knew that Masahiro didn’t feel the same about her as she did about him. To him she was like his little sister—a playmate when he wanted one and a nuisance when he didn’t. Hurt by the knowledge, Taeko turned away from Masahiro.

“Hey,” Masahiro said, impatient but concerned. “What’s the matter?”

Taeko shook her head. If she tried to speak, she would cry, and if she cried, he would think she was even more of a baby than he already did.

“You’re unhappy because you can’t come with me,” Masahiro said, as if pleased to figure it out yet distressed because his rejection had hurt her. “But it could be dangerous where I’m going. Why do you want to go so badly?”

Taeko couldn’t admit that she wanted to be with him, to share in whatever he was doing, because she liked him. “I want to help,” she managed to say.

Masahiro laughed. It was a friendly laugh, but Taeko cringed with shame. “Well, there isn’t anything you can do. So you’d better stay home.”

As he walked away down the corridor, Taeko felt a spurt of the same stubbornness that made her keep painting even when her pictures weren’t any good and her mother told her to stop. Masahiro could tell her what to do, but she didn’t have to listen, did she? Maybe, if she followed him, she could find a way to help him with his investigation. If she did manage to help him, he might feel differently toward her, mightn’t he?

Nothing else she’d done had changed his mind about her. She had to try something new.

Taeko hurried after Masahiro.

6

SANO RODE OUT
the castle gate with Detective Marume and two troops, all he could take from home while leaving enough to guard his family. The avenue across the moat was crowded with beggars loudly soliciting alms. Nuns, priests, and monks vied with homeless refugees driven into the cities by the tsunami that had flooded their coastal villages. Sano noticed a family camped out on a blanket, surrounded by their few possessions. It was a woman, little boy and girl, and a man with bandaged stubs for legs. Sano felt a stab of pity and had to look away.

He and Marume crossed the avenue and rode through the
daimyo
district, past new buildings that had sprung up at estates flattened by the earthquake. The streets were choked with oxcarts hauling timbers and stone. Wheels dug deep ruts; flies swarmed over manure that reeked under the hot sun. Porters lugged rice bales, water casks, and bundles of food for the peasants who hammered, sawed, plastered, and tiled. In the estates that belonged to minor
daimyo
who governed small provinces, gaps in unrepaired walls exposed framework on bare foundations. In those owned by powerful lords of large, wealthy domains, nearly completed barracks surrounded stately new mansions. Lord Tsunanori,
daimyo
of Kii Province—also the husband of Tsuruhime and the son-in-law of the shogun—was in that fortunate category. But his stronghold was an enclave of gloomy quiet. Black mourning drapery hung over the double-roofed gate where Sano and his men dismounted from their horses.

“Where are the relatives, friends, and neighbors?” Marume asked. “Shouldn’t they be coming to pay their respects to the shogun’s dead daughter?”

“This house has been visited by smallpox.” Sano was glad that Marume was recovering from the loss of Fukida, his partner, who’d died during the earthquake. The two men had been like brothers. Lately Marume had begun to regain his robust physique and talk more. “People don’t want to risk infection.”

“What’s a little smallpox between friends?” Marume said with a touch of his old humor. “I’ll risk it with you anytime.”

“I’m glad I still have you for company.”

“I wonder why Yanagisawa let you keep me. Probably because he knew I would make too much trouble for him if he tried to take me away.”

Sano approached the two sentries at the gate, introduced himself, and said, “I’m here to see Lord Kii Tsunanori.”

A servant escorted Sano and Marume through the estate, to the martial arts practice ground. Straw archery targets stood at one end. Raucous laughter came from the other end, where a crowd was gathered around two people batting a shuttlecock back and forth with wooden paddles. The paddles were brightly painted with portraits of Kabuki actors, the shuttlecock fashioned from a hard, round soapberry and red feathers. Sano recognized the game as
hanetsuki,
traditionally played by girls at the New Year. But these players were a broad-shouldered samurai with a long upper body and short legs, dressed only in a loincloth, and a pretty young woman in a white under-kimono. The woman missed a shot.