“Oh? About what?”
Sano dumped Lilac’s pouch of gold nuggets on the desk. “Did these once belong to you?”
Daigoro’s eyes took on a hungry, acquisitive gleam as he looked at the nuggets. “Maybe. A lot of the gold in Ezogashima passes through my hands.”
“They were found in Lilac’s room.”
“Who?” Daigoro drew back from them as if they might burn him.
“Lilac. The girl who died in the hot spring yesterday,” Marume said.
“Why did you give them to her?” Sano asked.
“I didn’t. I never even knew the girl.”
“Yes, you did,” Fukida said. “Don’t lie to us.”
“I’m not lying,” Daigoro huffed.
“She blackmailed you,” Sano said, fed up with the runaround he’d been getting ever since he’d started his investigation. “About what?”
“Nothing! Whoever told you that was mistaken.”
“Did you kill Tekare?” Sano demanded. “Did Lilac find out? Did you pay her to keep quiet?”
“No! You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Oh, come on, don’t waste our time.” Impatient, Marume pulled his sword, then grabbed Daigoro’s hand and held it flat against the desk. “Start telling the truth, or I’ll cut off your fingers one by one.”
Daigoro squealed and struggled. “No! Please!”
Sano ordinarily didn’t approve of torture, but this time he would make an exception. Even if Daigoro wasn’t a double murderer who deserved to lose his head, never mind his fingers, he was a beast who preyed on native women, and Sano thought he was also hoarding information. Sano nodded to Marume.
Marume raised the sword. Sano braced himself for bloodshed. He felt as though he was crossing a line and compromising his principles but this was Ezogashima; here, ideals didn’t matter.
“All right!” Daigoro cried. “Stop! I’ll tell you if you let me go!”
“Talk first.” Marume kept his grip on Daigoro, and the sword poised to chop. “We’ll see if what you say is worth sparing your fingers.”
Daigoro strained away from the blade. “Lilac was blackmailing me, but it wasn’t about Tekare. It was about—” He moaned. “If I say, I’ll get in trouble.”
“Trouble doesn’t get any worse than this,” Marume said. “Spit it out.”
Daigoro blurted, “I lend money to Lord Matsumae’s retainers. Whenever they can’t pay it back, they steal supplies from his storehouse. I accept them in lieu of money and sell them in town. Lilac saw me with some soldiers, taking bales of rice from them and cutting a deal. She threatened to tell Lord Matsumae. I paid her not to.”
This was a petty crime, but if Lord Matsumae had found out, he would have put Daigoro as well as the thieves to death as an example to other would-be criminals. Sano could understand why Daigoro had been reluctant to confess, why he’d succumbed to Lilac’s blackmail.
“So Lilac asked you for more gold, and more,” Sano surmised. “She bled you dry. So you murdered her.”
“No, no. That was the only time she asked. She was satisfied. The little fool didn’t know I’d have paid ten times more to shut her up. I didn’t need to kill her. It wasn’t me.”
This sounded like the truth, and Sano was not only disappointed by the letdown, but consumed by fury. The air in Ezogashima seemed full of mischievous spirits goading him to violence.
“Kill him,” Sano told Marume.
Marume, Fukida, and the Rat looked astonished by the savagery in Sano’s voice, but an order was an order. Marume shrugged. “Here goes.”
He seized Daigoro in a tight hug and put the blade to his throat. Daigoro wriggled and shrieked for help. None came; his employees were probably too scared. He clawed at Marume’s arm, trying to pry it off his chest, his eyes goggling with fear.
“Wait!” he screamed. “Don’t kill me. If you want to figure out who killed Tekare, I’m worth more to you alive than dead.”
“Why? Do you know who did?” Sano said in spite of distrusting Daigoro and understanding that this was his last-ditch effort to save himself.
“Not exactly.” Feral with desperate cunning, Daigoro said, “But I have a good idea.”
“Because it was him that killed her,” Fukida said. “Don’t let him manipulate you, Sano-san.”
But Sano wasn’t so possessed by desire for violence that he’d lost his instincts, and they said not to kill Daigoro yet. “How is that?”
“I was there. When Tekare died.”
Sano said to Marume, “Let go of him, but keep that sword handy.” Marume obeyed; Daigoro slumped and groaned in relief; Fukida looked askance. Sano turned to the Rat. “Start counting from one to a hundred.”
“What for?”
“Convince me that you were there,” Sano told Daigoro. “If you haven’t by the time he’s finished, you’re dead.”
“One… two… three…” the Rat began.
Daigoro gulped and spoke rapidly: “That night, I went to the castle to collect on a debt. My man met me at the back gate and paid me with a bag of tobacco he’d stolen from Lord Matsumae.”
The Rat continued counting. Daigoro hurried to say, “I started back to town, along the road that goes down the hill behind the castle. I stopped to urinate, and I’d just finished when I heard someone coming. It was two women. They were arguing. One of them ran past me, into the woods. I didn’t turn around fast enough to see who it was. The other came running.”
“Thirty… thirty-one… thirty-two…”
“Her I did see. It was dark, but there was a full moon. It was Tekare. I hadn’t seen her since she moved on to Lord Matsumae, but I still wanted her. When she passed me, I thought, ”Here I am, there she goes, tonight’s my chance.“ I followed her.”
A dirty gleam of lust appeared in his eyes; saliva pooled in his grin-Sano was revolted. As the Rat counted past fifty, Sano said, “You don’t have much time left. What happened?”
“I could hear Tekare running and panting ahead of me. Then suddenly she screamed. There was a thud. It sounded like she’d fallen. I kept going until I saw her. She was on the ground. She was moaning and flipping around. I didn’t know what to make of it. She screamed again. Then she stood up and staggered toward me. I was scared. I backed into the woods to hide.” He saw Sano frown. “What?”
Tekare had obviously been hurt, and Daigoro hadn’t even thought to help. Sano said, “Never mind. Go on.”
“She fell again. She thrashed and made awful noises. Pretty soon she stopped, though. She just lay there. I tiptoed over to her.” Daigoro swallowed a retch. “And oh, merciful gods.”
“One hundred,” said the Rat.
Sano raised his hand, signaling Marume to wait.
Daigoro said, “There was blood all over her. I knew she was dead. So I got out of there. I ran all the way home.”
“Well, I have to say that sounds just like him,” Fukida said to Sano.
Marume said, “I think he’s finally telling the truth.”
So did Sano, but he was furious at Daigoro. “You not only neglected to mention this to Hirata-san when he came to see you about the murder, but you never told anyone else, either.”
“After how Tekare treated me, I was glad she was dead,” Daigoro hastened to excuse himself. “When I found out she’d been murdered, I figured someone had done me a favor. Why turn them in? I thought I’d better not say I’d been there because Lord Matsumae might think I did it. And I didn’t want him looking into why I’d been at the castle that night. Later, when he went crazy—” Daigoro paused, then said with a shamefaced grin, “Well, I was too scared.”
These excuses failed to placate Sano. He grabbed Daigoro by his fur coat. “If you’d reported it at once, maybe none of this would have happened. Lord Matsumae wouldn’t have gone mad. He wouldn’t have murdered my son.” Almost choking on his rage and grief, Sano said, “He wouldn’t have declared war on the natives. This is as much your damned fault as the murderer’s!”
�
��I beg to disagree,” Daigoro said haughtily. “Who’s to say what would or wouldn’t have happened if I’d told? I didn’t kill Tekare. What I saw wouldn’t have helped Lord Matsumae. I don’t know who did it.”
“But you have a good idea, as you said yourself. That other woman you heard lured Tekare to the spring-bow. She must have set it.” Sano shook Daigoro so violently that his head whipped. “Who was she?”
“Hey, you’re hurting me.”
“Want me to start counting again?” suggested the Rat.
“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.
“Did they come in here?” asked a soldier.
Lying on their stomachs on the cold, hard earth in the dim space, Sano and his comrades held their breath and didn’t move a muscle.
“I don’t see them, but we’d better check,” came the answer.
Legs stalked past the lattice. Sano willed the men to give up and go. Then a low voice said in his ear, “They’re gone now.”
Sano jerked with surprise as he found Hirata lying next to him. The Rat startled so violently that he banged his head on the underside of the building. Hirata had stolen up on them so quietly that they hadn’t heard him.
“You almost scared me to death,” Marume said.
“Not so loud!” Fukida whispered. “Someone will hear us.”
“This is excellent timing,” Sano said. “We’ve found out who killed Tekare.”
“So have I,” Hirata said. “It’s all right to talk. There’s nobody in this part of the building.”
“Good work,” Sano said. “Now we can team up to deliver Wente and Lord Matsumae to justice.”
Hirata frowned. “Wente? But she’s not the killer.”
Sano saw that their separate investigations had led them to different conclusions. “Who do you think it is?”
“It’s Gizaemon.” Hirata described how he’d searched the scene of Tekare’s murder; he showed Sano the sassafras toothpick. “This proves it.”
“But I’ve proved it was Wente.” As Sano related what the gold merchant had told him, enlightenment struck. “My version of the story and yours aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re both true.”
Hirata nodded. “Gizaemon set the spring-bow. He must have known how Tekare treated Lord Matsumae—I doubt if anything much around here ever escaped his notice. He’d have wanted to punish Tekare and get her out of Lord Matsumae’s life. But someone needed to make sure Tekare sprang the trap.”
Sano Ichiro 12 The Snow Empress (2007) Page 24