The Dragon King's Palace

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Since when do you, a high Black Lotus priest, do favors for a follower whose identity you don’t even know?” Sano said.

  “Since he became a patron of the Black Lotus,” said Profound Wisdom. “He gave me large donations. He paid me for Mariko, and for taking her messages for him. I did other things for him, too.”

  Money bought service even from Black Lotus priests who usually tyrannized their followers, Sano noted. It also helped the sect survive in a hostile climate. Sano deduced that Mariko had met the man that night, and he’d paid her in gold coins, which she’d hidden in her room until she could give them to her priest.

  “Later on the night that Mariko brought her message,” Profound Wisdom said, “the man came here. He wanted some good fighters. I asked why, but he just counted money into my hand. I gathered eighty-five rMnin and some peasant toughs and sent them to Shinagawa to meet him the next day.”

  A thrill of revelation sped through Sano’s veins. Shinagawa was the Tkaid post station nearest Edo. The man, whom Sano now believed was the Dragon King, had borrowed an army to pursue Lady Keisho-in’s party, massacre her attendants, and kidnap the women. His initial hunch had been half right: The Black Lotus was involved in the crimes, though not chiefly responsible for them. The merchant Naraya had spoken a partial truth when he’d blamed the kidnapping on the Black Lotus. But Sano’s thrill immediately turned to horror.

  Black Lotus samurai were a vicious scourge that killed at the slightest provocation. Now Sano’s earlier fears gained substance. The Black Lotus had Reiko. Although her role in High Priest Anraku’s downfall had been hushed up, the secret could have leaked. If the Black Lotus kidnappers knew what she’d done, Reiko was doomed no matter what plans the Dragon King had for her.

  “How can you not know who the man is?” Sano said as his terror boosted his ill will toward Profound Wisdom. “I thought you Black Lotus priests were supposed to be all-seeing, all-knowing. What happened? Did your spies let you down?”

  Crestfallen, Profound Wisdom twisted his mouth. “I had them follow the man every time he left the temple. Every time, they lost him. He was good at sneaking away.”

  “Describe what he looks like,” Sano said, avid in pursuit of the Dragon King, who seemed almost close enough to touch yet still eluded him.

  The priest scrutinized Sano, using him as a standard of comparison. “He’s younger and heavier than you. His eyes are rounder, his lips puckered.”

  That description fit thousands of men. Sano’s hopes waned. “Is he a samurai or commoner?”

  “I don’t know. He always wears a hood under his hat.” The hood had concealed whether the Dragon King had the shaved crown and topknot of the warrior elite. “But he didn’t wear swords.”

  Then he could be a peasant, artisan, or merchant—or a samurai disguising his class. “Was there anything notable about his voice or manner?” Sano asked.

  “His voice was deeper and quieter than yours. He moved as if . . .” The priest searched for the right words. “As if he was afraid but wanted everyone to think he was brave.”

  This detail might help identify the man—if Sano could find him first. “Did he say or do anything that gave you any information about him?”

  Profound Wisdom meditated, the blackness of his eyes deepening with recollection. “He paid me to conduct a ritual for him. He wanted to communicate with someone who had died.”

  Certain Black Lotus priests claimed the ability to speak to the dead and receive messages from them, Sano knew. “Who was it?” His instincts vibrated alert as he sensed the advent of a clue.

  “A woman. He said her name was Anemone.”

  “What happened?”

  “The ritual was held in the temple here,” Profound Wisdom said. “I went into a trance, and I felt a gate within my mind open to the spirit realm. I called out, ‘Hail, spirit of Anemone. Please come and speak.’ “

  Sano had once raided another temple during a similar ritual, and he could picture Profound Wisdom seated on a dais, eyes closed in concentration, while monks and nuns chanted prayers. He imagined the flickering candlelight, heavy incense smoke, and the mystical atmosphere that induced the crowd of eager onlookers to believe in the priest’s fraud.

  “A woman’s voice spoke from my mouth,” Profound Wisdom continued. “It said, ‘I am here. Why do you summon me?’ The man grew very excited. He cried, ‘Anemone! It is I. Do you recognize me?’ “

  Sano envisioned a hooded figure kneeling in supplication before Profound Wisdom, who’d impersonated the dead woman.

  “The spirit answered, ‘Yes, my dearest,’ “ said Profound Wisdom. “The man began to weep. He said, ‘Anemone, I will avenge your death. Your spirit can rest in peace after the man who was responsible for your murder is punished.’ She whispered, ‘Avenge my death. Punish him.’ Then the gate to the spirit world closed. My trance broke. The man jumped up and shouted, ‘No! Anemone, come back!’ “

  Even though the priest was a charlatan, he knew how to tell people what they wanted to hear, Sano thought; and by echoing the man’s words instead of inventing conversation, and cutting short the ritual, Profound Wisdom had avoided exposing the spirit as a fake. Yet Sano was more struck by the significance of what the man had said than impressed by Profound Wisdom’s cleverness. He stood immobile while his thoughts registered the one potential clue in Profound Wisdom’s story and raced on to strategies for connecting it to the Dragon King. Outside, lanterns lit the yard bright as day as laborers hauled loads of dirt to fill in the underground temple. Profound Wisdom eyed Sano with a contempt that didn’t hide his fear.

  “I’ve told you everything I know,” he said. “Is it enough that you won’t brand me a traitor?”

  “Enough for now,” Sano said, though the clue was tenuous.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I’ll let you live awhile, in case you remember anything else about the man.” Sano addressed his detectives: “Take him to Edo Jail. Okada-san, you guard him so that nothing bad happens to him. Watanabe-san, tell Magistrate Ueda that I ask him to delay Profound Wisdom’s trial because he’s a witness in the kidnapping investigation. I’m going back to the castle. I’m late for my meeting with Chamberlain Yanagisawa.”

  “I’m certain that the murder of Anemone is the murder that the ransom letter refers to, and the motive behind the kidnapping,” Sano said.

  “And you suggest we investigate your theory that the mysterious Black Lotus follower is the Dragon King?” said Chamberlain Yanagisawa.

  “I do.”

  Midnight had passed while Sano rode from Ginza to Edo Castle. Now he and Yanagisawa sat in the chamberlain’s estate, in an office whose walls were hung with maps of Japan. Sano had just finished telling Yanagisawa about Mariko, the gold coins, the visit to her mother, and the raid on the Black Lotus temple. In the grounds outside the open window, cicadas droned; torches carried by patrolling guards smeared smoky light across the darkness. Sano reflected that crises forged strange alliances. He and Yanagisawa had become a partnership he’d never thought possible.

  “If my memory serves me well, there was nobody named Anemone on your list of deaths associated with Police Commissioner Hoshina,” said Yanagisawa.

  He was as immaculately groomed and stylish as always, but dark hollows circled his bloodshot eyes. His long fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the desk. Sano deduced that something even worse than the problem of Hoshina had beset him since they’d last met that morning. But he’d volunteered no explanation, and politeness forbade Sano to ask.

  “You’re right. Anemone wasn’t on the list,” Sano said.

  “Then according to Hoshina, he didn’t kill the woman,” Yanagisawa said, “so why would the kidnapper blame her murder on him, or want him executed for it?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.” A thought occurred to Sano. “It’s possible that the Dragon King blames Hoshina for a death that wasn’t his fault at all.” Sano realized with chagrin that his own dislike o
f Hoshina had led him to assume Hoshina was guilty as accused. “Maybe the Dragon King has kidnapped Lady Keisho-in to force the execution of the wrong person.”

  “In that case, the list is useless,” Yanagisawa said, “and we’ve been hunting suspects in the wrong places.”

  The thought of a day wasted, and the women still missing, weighed heavily upon the hot, close atmosphere. “But at least we have a new, better suspect,” Sano said.

  Yanagisawa emitted a mirthless chuckle. “A suspect with no name, and his whereabouts unknown. How do you know that Black Lotus priest didn’t invent him to save his own skin? We can’t afford to squander any more time on fruitless chases.”

  “What choice do we have except to investigate the man?” Sano said, although he shared Yanagisawa’s misgivings. “I’ve run out of ideas. My men have been looking for the person who posted the ransom letter, but with no luck. I talked to the merchant Naraya today, and I don’t think he kidnapped the women.” Sano described his interview with Naraya. “May I ask if you questioned the Kii clan members? Are they any likelier culprits than Naraya?”

  Yanagisawa inhaled on his tobacco pipe and expelled smoke that obscured his features. “I don’t know.”

  His curt tone prohibited Sano from asking for details. “Then what do you suggest we do?” Sano said.

  “My troops can go hunting Lady Keisho-in, as I proposed at the start. That would be a better strategy than searching for a man who may not exist.” Grimness hardened Yanagisawa’s bloodshot eyes. “I spent the evening with the shogun, listening to him fret about his mother. He’s threatening to execute Hoshina, send out the army, and banish you and me for floundering in the dark. We may not be able to stall him for the seven days he gave us.”

  “We must,” Sano said, as strongly opposed to Yanagisawa’s plan as ever. Increasing desperation would make the chamberlain more ruthless in his desire to save Lady Keisho-in, and more careless toward Reiko and Midori. “Going after the kidnappers is too dangerous for the hostages. At least wait until we know who the Dragon King is. Maybe then, when we understand him, we can find a way to persuade him to return the women without a battle that could kill them.”

  And although Sano had no news from Hirata, he still hoped his retainer would find the hostages so that when the time came for a rescue mission, he could plan how best to stage it.

  The chamberlain sat silent, his thumb and forefinger bracketing his chin, while he considered Sano’s arguments. Obstinacy hardened his gaze.

  “If your troops should bungle the rescue because they don’t know where to go or whom they’re dealing with, and Lady Keisho-in dies, you’ll be in worse trouble than you are now,” Sano reminded Yanagisawa.

  A moment passed as they stared each other down. Outside, the whine of the cicadas rose to a frenetic pitch. Then Yanagisawa dropped his hand from his chin.

  “All right,” he said, “you win—for now.” But Sano had barely relaxed, when Yanagisawa added, “You have until noon to look for your mystery suspect. After that, I take over the investigation, and my troops will march.” His eyes narrowed in challenge. “Where do you propose to begin your search?”

  The short time frame dismayed Sano. He rejected the idea of asking Hoshina about Anemone’s murder, because wouldn’t Hoshina have already mentioned it if it had anything to do with him? Then inspiration awakened in Sano. He looked out the window. The density of the darkness had lessened, but dawn was some hours away.

  “It’s a little early to call on a metsuke intelligence agent,” Sano said, “but I daresay the circumstances justify rousting him out of bed.”

  24

  A loud moan broke the silence of the tower prison. Reiko emerged from fitful slumber, her eyes squinting in the faint gray moonlight. Across the room she saw Midori sitting up on her futon, arms cradling her belly. Pain drew her features into a grimace as she moaned again. Reiko flung off her quilt. Shivering in the chill, she hastened to kneel by Midori’s side.

  “Midori-san, what’s wrong?” Reiko said.

  “A bad cramp woke me up. It’s stopped now.” Midori’s grimace relaxed into a look of shame. “I’ve wet the bed.”

  Reiko looked down and saw a bloody stain spreading over Midori’s futon and puddling on the floor. She felt its liquid warmth seep through her kimono and dampen her knees.

  “Oh, no,” she said, grieved by the realization that the event they’d hoped would wait until they got home was happening now.

  Lady Yanagisawa sat up in bed, clutching the quilt to her chin, blinking in sleepy confusion. Lady Keisho-in flopped onto her side and said in a hoarse, cranky voice, “What is it?”

  “Midori’s water has broken,” Reiko said. “Her labor has started.”

  The streets of the Hibiya administrative district were deserted except for watchmen dozing in guard booths outside the walled mansions, and dark except for lamps burning over the gates. Sano dismounted outside the mansion that belonged to Toda Ikkyu. An especially high wall secluded the premises from neighbors, who probably didn’t know Toda was a spy for the metsuke—the Tokugawa intelligence service that guarded the shogun’s power over Japan. Sano knew that Toda maintained an unobtrusive profile, the better to spy upon his bakufu colleagues.

  “Tell your master that the shogun’s ssakan-sama wishes to see him at once,” Sano ordered the watchman.

  His title and authoritative manner brought quick results despite the fact that he’d arrived in the dead of predawn. A household retainer ushered him into a reception room that was decorated with bland, conventional landscape murals which seemed meant to hide rather than reveal its owner’s character. Soon a man appeared, barefoot, clad in a gray dressing gown, his eyes puffy with sleep.

  “Good evening, ssakan-sama,” he said. “Or should I say good morning?”

  “Good morning, Toda-san.” As they exchanged bows, Sano covertly studied his host to make sure he was really Toda. The spy was so nondescript that Sano always had difficulty recognizing him. He looked like anyone and no one, an advantage in a profession that depended on his avoiding notice. But his world-weary voice and manner jibed with Sano’s vague memory of Toda.

  “I doubt this is a social call,” Toda said. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”

  “I have a favor to ask,” Sano said.

  Toda grimaced. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Sano had consulted Toda during past investigations because Toda had access to facts about many citizens, gathered by a legion of spies and informers all over the country.

  “What do you want this time?” Toda said with veiled annoyance. He didn’t like sharing information; the metsuke jealously hoarded knowledge, the basis of their unique power.

  “I need your help identifying a man I believe to be the kidnapper of Lady Keisho-in,” said Sano.

  Toda’s eyes registered awareness that he had better cooperate. If Lady Keisho-in wasn’t rescued and the kidnapper brought to justice, the shogun would likely punish the whole bakufu, including the metsuke spies, who were responsible for discovering and neutralizing threats to the Tokugawa.

  “What’s the matter? Have you abandoned your theory that the Dragon King is one of Police Commissioner Hoshina’s old enemies?” Toda could never resist a sly rejoinder. “Did the Kii clan and the merchant Naraya prove not to be the culprit?”

  Sano wasn’t surprised that Toda knew about the theory, and the suspects. Toda probably had spies among the soldiers guarding Hoshina, and they’d eavesdropped on his conversation with Sano that morning. “I’ve got a new suspect,” Sano said, “but unfortunately not his name.”

  He described what had happened at the secret Black Lotus temple. “The only clue I have to the man’s identity is the dead woman that he tried to communicate with through the Black Lotus priest. Her name was Anemone. I think someone among her family or associates is the Dragon King. I’m hoping you can tell me who she is.”

  Toda pondered, searching the voluminous storehouse of his mind for the a
nswer. Then he said, “I don’t remember a murder of anyone called Anemone. It’s a pity you didn’t get her family name. When was she killed? How did she die?”

  “I don’t know,” Sano said.

  “Perhaps you can tell me where her murder took place?”

  Sano shook his head, realizing that what he asked might be more than even Toda could give him, considering the paucity of background information on the crime.

  “There have been thousands of murders in the country throughout the years, as you well know,” Toda said. “For me to know where to begin looking for information about Anemone, I need more than just her given name.”

  “Let’s suppose there’s a connection between Anemone and Hoshina,” Sano said, “even if he didn’t kill her.”

  “That would narrow the time span down to the past twenty years or so, presuming the murder didn’t occur while Hoshina was only a child,” Toda said. “It would also locate the crime in Edo or Miyako, the two places Hoshina has lived.”

  “The Dragon King couldn’t have planted Mariko as a spy in Lady Keisho-in’s retinue unless he has close connections to the Tokugawa,” Sano said. “He must be someone in the bakufu, and a member of a high-ranking samurai clan. There can’t be many murders of women named Anemone that involve a man who fits those criteria.”

  “True,” Toda said, his weary expression leavened by the possibility that this favor to Sano might not cost him too much trouble after all. “And crimes involving a man of that sort would be noted in the records at metsuke headquarters. Give me a moment to get dressed, then we’ll be on our way.”

  Soon they were in the partitioned room in the palace that housed the metsuke headquarters. A single lamp burned in the compartment where Sano and Toda pored over ledgers that detailed incidents concerning Tokugawa vassals and the law. The palace corridors were silent, the other compartments unoccupied. Desks piled with scrolls, maps, and writing materials awaited metsuke agents who still slumbered at home while Sano and Toda searched the Edo records for the three years Hoshina had lived in the city. Sano turned pages of accounts of people killed in duels or crimes of passion, wives divorced, and disputes over money, property, and protocol, but he found no mention of Anemone’s murder.