Sano Ichiro 12 The Snow Empress (2007)

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “He didn’t kill her,” Gizaemon insisted angrily. “He’s innocent.

  “He’s guilty of everything else that’s happened since the murder. Sano thought of Masahiro. How much had he suffered?

  “You’re so sure you’re right. But suppose for the moment that you’re wrong. What happens to my nephew?”

  Soldiers held Lord Matsumae’s head. He snarled, tried to bite them, and howled while the doctor inserted the needles.

  “I honestly don’t care,” Sano said.

  But now that he’d had time to think, he was forced to admit to himself that the case against Lord Matsumae was far from closed. Lord Matsumae had never actually confessed, and the other suspects had never been cleared. Sano was disturbed by his own rush to judgment. The death of his child had destroyed his objectivity. But he must separate the murder of Tekare from Lord Matsumae’s other crimes. Honor required him to see justice applied justly.

  “I’ll find out for certain who killed Tekare,” he said. “If it’s not Lord Matsumae, that should save him from her.” But not from me.

  Gizaemon beheld Sano with contempt. “You think you’re going to continue your investigation? It’s already made things worse for my nephew.” As the doctor twiddled the needles between his fingers, stimulating the flow of energy through Lord Matsumae’s body, Lord Matsumae screamed as though under torture. “Whatever you do next will probably kill him. Forget it.”

  Sano had lost count of how many times an investigation of his had been hindered or shut down. He was determined to continue this one because the killer had set off the events that had led to Masahiro’s death and was therefore just as responsible as Lord Matsumae was. Sano wanted revenge on everyone involved. It was the only thing that might bring him and Reiko peace. But he knew better than to expect that argument to convince Gizaemon.

  “It’s my duty to Lord Matsumae,” Sano said.

  Gizaemon said with a sarcastic chuckle, “As if he’s in any shape to care about that now.”

  “We have a deal,” Sano reminded him.

  “I just broke it.”

  “What gives you the right?”

  “Now that my nephew is out of commission—thanks to you—I’m in charge.”

  A moment ago Sano wouldn’t have thought anyone could be a worse ruler than the mad Lord Matsumae, but Gizaemon was. Stubborn, narrow-minded, plus mean added up to a spark in the powder-keg that was Ezogashima. Besides, if Lord Matsumae wasn’t the killer, then Gizaemon was still a major suspect.

  “I outrank you in the Tokugawa regime,” Sano said, even though he knew that mattered little so far from Edo. “I’m taking over.”

  “You and your little band of men? Don’t make me laugh.” Gizaemon jabbed a finger at Sano. “Your investigation’s over. And you’re not needed here.” He nodded to the troops.

  The haste with which they pushed Sano toward the door made it clear that Gizaemon had already established himself as ruler. Sano said, “You can’t cure your nephew by keeping him tied up. If he’s left as he is, he’ll die. You need my help.”

  “More of your help will finish him off.” Gizaemon swelled with new, malignant authority. “You’re forbidden to come near him again.”

  As Sano resisted the men dragging him away, Gizaemon added, “Lord Matsumae let you get away with too much. I won’t. And don’t bother threatening me with your army, the shogun, or Lord Matsudaira. Your army is far away, and if the shogun and Lord Matsudaira cared about you, they’d never have sent you here.”

  Troops marched Reiko up to the guest quarters just as others arrived bringing Sano. One of the soldiers with Reiko said, “Your wife has been causing trouble, Honorable Chamberlain.” He shoved her at Sano. “Keep her under control.”

  After Reiko had cornered Lady Matsumae in the bath chamber, the woman had complained to the guards, who’d found her in the native concubines’ quarters and removed her. Now Reiko was relieved to see that Sano was safe, but the huge weight of her grief for Masahiro crushed happier emotions.

  Sano moved his lips in what failed to pass as a smile. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Reiko said, although that had never been less true. She felt as if they inhabited separate worlds moving farther apart. “And you?”

  “Yes.”

  She could see that he didn’t want to burden her any more than she wanted to burden him, but lines of fatigue and sorrow carved his face. Reiko had a vision of what he would look like in twenty years—if they lived that long. She tried not to imagine that much time without Masahiro, time she’d planned to spend watching him grow into a man, marry, and give her grandchildren. She forced herself to concentrate on the moment, on putting one foot in front of the other along the course toward vengeance, her only, harsh comfort.

  The troops locked her and Sano in the building, which was as cold inside as outside. Reiko and Sano removed only their boots in the entry way and kept their coats on. As they headed toward their room, Reiko said, “I have to tell you what I’ve learned.”

  The door of the room where Sano’s men were staying opened, and Hirata appeared. “What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you in a moment.” Sano accompanied Reiko into their room. It was freezing; their beds were not put away, and no food was left for them. “It looks like the servants have quit us.”

  He opened the braziers and put in coal. Reiko knew he needed to keep busy for the same reason she did, but she couldn’t help feeling annoyed at him because his actions were so practical, so trivial. “Must you do that now?”

  “Don’t you want me to warm this place up?” Sano lit the coals and used his glove to fan up the fires.

  “Yes, but I need you to listen.” I can listen while I work.“ An edge sharpened his voice.

  They’d often done this sort of ordinary bickering, but Reiko found that although grief diminished positive emotions, it intensified negative ones such as resentment toward her husband for not paying her enough attention. “Just stop for a moment. This is important.”

  Sano replaced a lid on a brazier with exaggerated care and dusted off his gloves. “All right. I’m listening.”

  “I think I know who killed Tekare and Lilac.”

  “Oh?”

  Disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm, Reiko said, “It’s either Lady Matsumae or Wente.” She described her conversations with both. “Well? Which one do you think it is?”

  “Either sounds as good as the other,” Sano said wearily.

  Reiko couldn’t understand his attitude. “Don’t you care?”

  “It’s not that.” Sano drew her down to sit with him beside the brazier that emitted faint, inadequate heat. “The situation has changed.” He told her that he’d confronted Lord Matsumae about the diary and how Lord Matsumae had reacted.

  Reiko was amazed by the idea that the spirit inside Lord Matsumae had tried to kill him. “You believe Lord Matsumae killed Tekare?”

  “As much as I can believe anyone else did,” Sano said, “but the spirit of Tekare didn’t give him a chance to confess. And Gizaemon has taken over. He’s shut down the murder investigation. Who really killed Tekare, or Lilac, is beside the point.”

  Reiko was devastated because her efforts had come to nothing, and angry because she didn’t agree with Sano one bit. “Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but it does to me.”

  “I didn’t mean it doesn’t matter to me. I’m just saying—”

  “You’re saying that no matter who killed Tekare, the truth is useless because even if we find it, you can’t make anybody here do anything with it.”

  Sano exhaled, “If you must speak so bluntly.”

  “Well, I still want to know who the murderer is, and I have a good use for the information. He or she instigated what happened to Masahiro. I want that person punished. I want revenge.” Reiko’s voice shook with rage and grief. “It’s all I have left.”

  “I know how you feel,” Sano said. “I feel the same.”

  “Do you?” Reiko tasted the
acid in her words. She didn’t see how the death of a child could possibly hurt the father as much as the mother who had borne him.

  “Of course,” Sano said, clearly wounded by her implication. “Masahiro was my son, too.”

  The pain of hearing him mentioned in the past tense boosted Reiko’s desire to lash out at someone, and Sano was the only person available. “Then stop acting so defeated. Let’s figure out who started this whole disaster!”

  “It’s not that easy,” Sano explained. “I have even less freedom to question suspects, look for witnesses, and find clues than I did before. There won’t be any more guided tours around the castle and city for me or Hirata-san. We’re locked in here. My hands are tied.”

  Reiko understood, but his helplessness angered her even more. “That would seem to be your own fault. If you hadn’t accused Lord Matsumae, he might still be in charge and willing to cooperate with you.”

  Visibly angry himself now, and stung by her rebuke, Sano said, “I agree that was the worst mistake in my life, even though it seemed like a good idea at the time.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “What is it about this place? Good ideas always turn out wrong here.” He rubbed his eyes. “I wish I’d never found that despicable diary or confronted Lord Matsumae with it.”

  His self-reproach pained Reiko, but she took a mean pleasure in hurting him. “You’re always so concerned about justice. What about justice for your son? What about your samurai duty to avenge him? If you cared, you’d find a way.”

  “Shut up!” Sano exclaimed. Making an effort to calm himself, he put his hands on her shoulders and deliberately lowered his voice: “I know how upset you are, but don’t take it out on me.”

  Reiko lost her own self-control. “Let me go!” She fought Sano, hitting him, savage with grief and fury. Part of her dimly realized that this was how Lord Matsumae must have felt when Tekare had died. Now she was going mad, too.

  “Stop that,” Sano ordered, as he struggled to restrain her, “before you hurt yourself. Don’t let this turn us against each other.”

  But Reiko fought harder, sobbing wildly. The precious, beloved fruit of their union was gone, and so was their love for each other. Their marriage had died with their son.

  “We have to stick together,” Sano persisted. “We have to live through this.”

  “Why?” Reiko cried. She welcomed death, which would end the suffering.

  “Because we have another child at home.” Sano’s voice was intense with urgency. “In case you’ve forgotten Akiko.”

  Reiko almost had. Masahiro’s death had left her few thoughts to spare for Akiko. But now the mention of her daughter silenced Reiko like a stab to the heart. Akiko didn’t compensate her for the loss of her firstborn, but Reiko suddenly longed for the baby she’d left behind in Edo. She realized with a shock that the situation was even worse than she’d imagined.

  Gazing up at Sano in horror, she whispered, “We’re never getting out of here, are we? We’ll never see Akiko again.”

  “Don’t say that,” Sano said; equally horrified and afraid that her prediction could make itself come true.

  She could see in his eyes that he didn’t have much faith in their ever returning home, either. “Gizaemon isn’t going to honor Lord Matsumae’s promise to set us free if you find the killer. He won’t let us go back to Edo and tell tales about what’s happened here. As far as he’s concerned, we’re better off dead. It’s just a matter of time before he figures that out.”

  Sano was silent. A deep frown of despair carved his brow. Reiko sat with him amid the wreckage of their life, their marriage, their family. Outside, war drums boomed. Cheers rose from soldiers drunk on wine, celebrating today’s massacre, rallying for battle. The sounds reminded Reiko that she and Sano and their comrades weren’t the only ones doomed. The natives were about to lose their lives, their society, their existence as a people. There seemed nothing she or Sano could do to save them, either.

  Then Sano spoke in a voice hushed with enlightenment: “If all is lost, we have nothing left to lose.” His face wore an expression Reiko had never seen before. It was ravaged yet strong, bleakly resigned to defeat yet luminous with purpose. “If our hours are numbered, then let’s make the most of them.”

  Reiko imagined that this was how a samurai looked when embarking on a mission bound to end in his death. She sensed a fervor in Sano, a contagious energy. Her spirits rose in spite of herself. “By doing what?”

  “What you said we should. Avenging our son’s death.”

  Reiko felt a spark of the ardor she’d once felt toward her husband. Even though they were fated to die, there was something left between them. Suddenly breathless with anticipation, she said, “How?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Sano’s tone was without fear or lack of confidence. “But I swear on my ancestors’ honor that I’ll right all the wrongs that have been done here in Ezogashima. I’ll think of a way before this night is over.”

  27

  After an eternal night, the sun thrust up from behind the hills above Fukuyama City, round and glowing red in the pale sky, crossed by wisps of violet cloud, like a giant battle standard. Outside the castle, the heads of the massacred natives stood frozen on their pikes. Inside, a bonfire in the main courtyard had burned down to smoking ashes. The barracks were filled with soldiers sleeping off last night’s revelry. All was quiet as Ezogashima poised on the brink of war.

  Inside the guest quarters, Hirata crept through the silent darkness that immersed the building. His trained senses compensated for his lack of eyesight. The faint sound of his own breathing echoed off the walls, forming an auditory picture of the empty corridor. He moved soundlessly down it. Pausing outside the room where the guards were, he felt their heartbeats, a slow, steady pulsation that meant they’d fallen asleep on their watch. They hadn’t overheard the whispered conversation that had gone on between Sano, Hirata, Reiko, and the detectives all night. They were sitting ducks.

  Hirata eased their door open. Smoky heat wafted from charcoal braziers. He felt rather than saw the four human figures curled motionless on the floor. Hirata tiptoed over to each man, pressed a finger against his neck, and delivered a burst of energy. The sleeping men fell into deeper slumber. Their pulses slowed to the minimum required to pump blood through their bodies. They would stay unconscious for several hours. Hirata took their swords, a long and a short from each man, then hurried back to the room where his comrades waited.

  “First mission accomplished,” Hirata said, and passed out the weapons.

  Sano, Marume, and Fukida drew the long swords from the scabbards and examined the blades by the light of the oil lamp. “Good enough,” Marume said.

  “Thieves can’t be choosers,” Fukida said.

  Reiko held out her palms to Hirata. He laid a dagger across them. Her face was solemn and fierce. A chill ran through him. He’d seen that look before, on samurai who’d come to Edo Castle to register vendettas against their foes. But he’d never before seen it on a woman.

  The detectives headed out of the room; the Rat reluctantly followed. Hirata, Sano, and Reiko lingered. Sano bowed to Hirata and said, “A million thanks for your faithful service.”

  The words had a gravity that said he meant his thanks not just for now, but for all the years they’d been master and retainer. He had spoken them because he might not have a chance later.

  “It was nothing,” Hirata insisted with a vehemence that said they wouldn’t fail in their mission, wouldn’t die and never talk again. A lump formed in his throat. Unable to look at Sano or Reiko, he bowed and walked out to meet the destiny he’d come seeking in Ezogashima.

  Reiko and Sano were alone for what might have been the last time. Sano said, “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I must,” Reiko said.

  She saw him studying her for signs of fear, but she felt none. Her spirit had moved beyond fear and grief to a place of still, perfect calmness. Her body was a tool for revenge, her sense of purpo
se untouched by emotions.

  “Don’t go alone,” Sano said with pleading urgency.

  “It’s what we decided.” Rather, Reiko had decided, against his strenuous objections. Her voice was even, untroubled. She knew she would succeed in the mission she’d charted for herself. She didn’t care what happened to her as a result.

  “Come with me,” Sano said. “We’ve always worked well together.” His words alluded to the crimes they’d solved in the past, the dangers they’d faced and surmounted, the whole history of their unconventional marriage.

  “We’ve also worked well separately.”

  “I remember the times you struck out on your own, and I worried about whether you would come back to me safely.”

  Those times merged with this instant. Even as Sano was ready to object again, Reiko said, “You have your task. I have mine. This is how it must be.”

  Sano inclined his head, conceding. “Reiko-san…” He sought words to express his love for her, to commemorate their marriage in the brief time they had left.

  Reiko placed a finger on his lips to silence him. She could not let him revive her emotions. She needed all her strength and concentration for the challenges ahead.

  Sano caught her hand. “We may not have another chance.”

  “We will,” Reiko said with sublime confidence.

  Even if they didn’t survive this day, they would see each other again—when death reunited them and Masahiro. Then they would have an eternity to say all the things they hadn’t gotten to say while alive.

  “Then I suppose we’re ready to go.” Sano’s voice was resigned, but strong with his own sense of purpose.

  They joined their comrades in the entry way. Hirata opened the door. The ruddy dawn illuminated their alert, serious faces. Reiko spared a thought for the years that they’d worked together, which ended now. Hirata listened a moment, then said, “All clear.”

  One by one they exited the building. They silently fanned out in separate directions, Sano joined with Marume, Fukida, and the Rat, while Hirata and Reiko each went alone, across snow that the rising sun stained red as blood.