The Cloud Pavilion

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Even if he sends another assassin who succeeds where this one failed? Even if it means my daughter could die?”

  “Another woman has already died. The nun,” Sano reminded his uncle. “She deserves justice.”

  “What in hell do I care about her?”

  “And as long as the rapist and the kidnappers are at large, other women are in danger,” Sano said.

  “I don’t care about them, either,” Major Kumazawa insisted. “You must stop your investigation.”

  Under different circumstances, Sano would have respected the wishes of the head of his mother’s clan. “I’ll continue with or without your blessing,” Sano said coldly. “You might recall that my wife was attacked, too. This is personal for me now.”

  Major Kumazawa stared. Sano saw satisfaction as well as enmity in his eyes. “The longer I know you, the more I realize that you are like your mother. You are just as willful and stubborn as she ever was. Well, that’s your choice. But when you choose your actions, you have to take the consequences.”

  More enraged by the insult to his mother than to himself, Sano retorted, “Willfulness and stubbornness appear to run in the family. It’s obvious that my mother and I aren’t the only ones who share those traits.”

  Then he forgot what he was saying, because Major Kumazawa’s last sentence had struck a chord in his memory. His anger entwined with the same sense of familiarity that he’d felt during his first visit to this house. In his mind Sano saw Major Kumazawa and his wife standing on their veranda; he heard the woman’s voice pleading; he felt the same, dizzy sickness as he had then. Now the vague impressions solidified into a memory of stunning clarity.

  “I heard you say that to my mother,” he said.

  Startled, Major Kumazawa said, “What?”

  Recollection flooded Sano, as if a door that sealed off his past had suddenly opened. “I was here. My mother brought me. I must have been four or five years old.” Now he knew why she’d defied the ban on contact with her family. “I was sick with a fever. She was afraid I would die.” Sano remembered lying in bed, wracked by chills, struggling to breathe. Across the years he heard his mother crying and his father saying they couldn’t afford a doctor or medicine. “So she brought me here, to ask for your help.”

  “You remember?” Major Kumazawa frowned in dismay.

  “Yes. I also remember that you said she deserved for me to suffer. You said, ‘When you choose your actions, you have to take the consequences.’ ” Sano’s anger burned hotter. “Then you turned us away.”

  Major Kumazawa wore the expression of a man who’d believed he’d put out a fire and discovered that it had been smoldering underground when it blew up in his face. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

  “I’m sure you wish I had,” Sano said.

  He watched Major Kumazawa realize that the incident constituted more than a just punishment of a cast-out relative and her child. Although it had happened in the distant past, it could be interpreted as striking a blow against Sano the chamberlain, the shogun’s second-in-command, and the punishment for that was whatever Sano chose.

  “I’ve always regretted what I did,” Major Kumazawa said. “I should have helped Etsuko. You were an innocent child; you didn’t deserve to suffer. I apologize.”

  “It’s a little late for that,” Sano said.

  “I only did what was right at the time,” Major Kumazawa said, fearful yet insistent. “My parents were still alive. They forbade me to do anything for Etsuko. I had to respect their wishes.”

  Sano regarded Major Kumazawa with contempt. “Your tendency to justify yourself by blaming other people has made your apology a sham. It’s a trait that’s even worse than willfulness or stubbornness. So is your belief that you’re entitled to things that you won’t give to other people. When my mother asked you to save her child, you refused. But when your daughter was kidnapped and you came to me for help, I agreed.”

  Sano would have been sorry he had, if not for Chiyo, who was as blameless as his own childhood self had been.

  “So you’re a better man than I am.” Major Kumazawa’s resentful tone belied the compliment. “Well, if you’d rather not trouble yourself on my behalf or that of my family any longer, then stop your investigation.”

  “I can’t do that,” Sano said. “I’ve already explained why.”

  The hostility between them solidified, thick as the humid dawn air, as hot and suffocating as smoke. Major Kumazawa said, “Since we’ll never see eye to eye, there’s no use talking anymore. Be sure to take your wife with you when you go.”

  The dismissal stung Sano even though he was eager to leave this place and never come back. As he walked toward the house to fetch Reiko, he heard Major Kumazawa call after him, “I should never have broken the ban against contact with Etsuko and her kin. I’ll uphold it from now on.”

  “That suits me just fine,” Sano said.

  The dawn sky glowed iridescent pink and silver, like an abalone shell’s lining, as Sano rode alongside Reiko’s palanquin down the highway toward Edo. The detectives led the way; Sano’s troops guarded the rear of the procession. Sano and his party passed pilgrims walking toward them, bound for the Asakusa Temple district; they followed Tokugawa troops on patrol, nuns and priests headed into the city to beg alms, and porters hauling goods to market. Eta trundled nightsoil bins into the fields beside the road, using the city’s copious supply of human wastes to fertilize the rice crop. Amid the stench, flies swarmed and buzzed.

  Reiko spoke through her window to Sano. “So your relations with the Kumazawa have been severed again.” He’d just told her about his conversation with his uncle. “Is there any chance of a reconciliation?”

  “Not that I can see. Maybe it’s for the best.”

  Reiko studied her husband’s profile as he sat in the saddle and his horse plodded along beside her. His expression was hard. But she knew Sano had hoped to build a relationship with the unknown side of his family, and to re unite his mother with her estranged kin. He must be very disappointed. So was Reiko.

  “But you will continue the investigation, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” Sano said, although he sounded less than enthusiastic. “I’ve made progress.” He told Reiko about the three suspects.

  Reiko felt alarm creep under her skin. Sano’s position in the regime had been secure for a while, but wouldn’t be for much longer if he clashed with Nanbu, Ogita, or Joju. Although she feared for her family, she said, “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Sano smiled, appreciative. “There’s not much you can do for the investigation now, though.”

  “Is Hirata-san still looking for the oxcart drivers?” Reiko asked.

  “His men are,” Sano said. “Hirata has run into some trouble.”

  As he explained, Reiko’s alarm increased. Sano said, “We’ll catch Jinshichi and Gombei eventually. Maybe they’ll incriminate Nanbu, Ogita, and Joju, and I’ll have enough evidence to take the three of them down without going down myself.” He paused. “In the meantime, you must stay away from the Kumazawa estate. It’s not safe there, and you wouldn’t be welcome anyway.”

  Reiko knew the estrangement from the Kumazawa clan included her, too. “But Chiyo and I have become good friends. And Fumiko is there. I need to protect them.”

  “You’re not responsible for that. I’ll send some troops to help guard the estate.”

  Reiko sighed. Although she’d often disobeyed Sano, she had to respect his wishes in this instance. She must put aside her friendship with Chiyo and Fumiko until he and Major Kumazawa made up.

  If they ever did.

  Her bearers’ slow pace made the trip back to the city long and tedious. The journey was lengthened by traffic on the highway, backups at the checkpoints, and crowds in town. By the time the procession reached Edo Castle, it was almost noon. Reiko yawned. She was glad to get home, ready for some peace and quiet.

  One of the gate sentries said, “Honorable Chamberlain, the sho
gun has left a message for you. He wants to see you at the palace right now.”

  Adrift in a dimension between sleep and wakefulness, she opened her eyes upon a vast panorama of clouds. She floated among them, buoyed by their gray, billowing mass. With every breath she exhaled, they rippled. They shrouded her in clammy moisture. At first she drowsed peacefully, thinking it was a pleasant dream. Then the clouds began to swirl.

  They were sucking her into their center. Vertigo dizzied and nauseated her. There was no sense of direction, no landmark to tell her which way heaven and earth were. She felt as if she were falling downward into a whirl pool and upward into a tornado at the same time. Gripped by fear, she blinked hard in an attempt to stop the dream. But the clouds were still there, too dense for her vision to penetrate. She tried to sit up and awaken herself. The clouds swirled faster.

  This was no dream.

  It was real.

  Fright turned to panic. Even as she wafted amid the clouds like a feather in a hurricane, spinning in their vortex, she had a sensation of weight as heavy as stone. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t see her body, couldn’t feel her arms or legs. Her mind and senses seemed cut loose from herself. She cried out for help, but the clouds absorbed her voice. Her heart pounded wildly and her lungs heaved somewhere far away. Her panic evolved into terror.

  What was happening to her?

  Would she survive, or die?

  Even as she feared death, she felt a horrific premonition that something worse was to be her fate.

  After leaving Reiko at home, Sano went with Detectives Marume and Fukida to the palace. There, officials stood in clusters about the grounds, their expressions somber.

  “I smell trouble,” Marume said.

  So did Sano. Troops hurried about aimlessly, stopping to talk to one another. Idle servants hovered in the background, as if they wanted to know what was going on but were afraid to ask. The shogun flitted back and forth outside the main entrance, attendants trailing him anxiously. When he saw Sano, he cried, “Ahh! Thank the gods you’ve come at last!”

  “What’s happened, Your Excellency?” Sano said.

  Out of breath from the unaccustomed exercise, the shogun clutched his chest, doubled over, and panted. His attendants seated him on the steps. He choked out, “My wife has disappeared!”

  Sano exchanged surprised glances with his detectives. Lady Nobuko, the shogun’s wife, left the castle even more rarely than the shogun did. Her bad health kept her confined to the women’s quarters. Sano said, “She can’t have gone far. Isn’t anybody looking for her?”

  The shogun gasped and wheezed. “I’m, ahh, going to faint!”

  His attendants pushed his head between his knees. Yanagisawa and Yoritomo strode out of the castle together. When Yoritomo saw Sano, animosity hardened his expression. Yanagisawa looked grave.

  “Lady Nobuko didn’t disappear from the castle,” Yanagisawa explained. “It happened at Chomei Temple in Mukojima district. She went there this morning, to drink from the Spring of Long Life and pray for good health.”

  Sano experienced a stab of shock tinged with foreboding. “How exactly did it happen?”

  “There was a crowd at the shrine,” Yanagisawa said. “Lady Nobuko got separated from her attendants. They looked for her, but they couldn’t find her. One of her guards just came back to the castle and reported her missing.”

  Another woman gone missing at a religious site. “Was there any sign of foul play?”

  Yanagisawa gave him a look that said he knew Sano feared that Lady Nobuko had been kidnapped. “None that we know of yet. We haven’t had time to investigate.”

  That Lady Nobuko had been kidnapped wasn’t Sano’s only fear. Maybe she’d been kidnapped by the same man who’d raped Chiyo, Fumiko, and Tengu-in. If so, then his failure to catch the rapist by now had put a fourth woman in peril.

  A fourth woman who happened to be the shogun’s wife.

  “How can this be happening to me?” the shogun lamented. He cared little about his wife—theirs was a marriage of political and economic convenience—but he took every misfortune personally. He raised his head and glared at Sano. “You’re my chief detective.” In his addled state he’d forgotten that Sano no longer was. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot.” He flapped his hand. “Rescue my wife!”

  And the gods help Sano if the shogun should realize that his investigation had a connection with her disappearance. Once Sano would have expected Yanagisawa to rush to tell the shogun. But Yanagisawa shook his head, silently indicating that he would keep Sano’s business a secret.

  It was Yoritomo who blurted, “Your Excellency, you shouldn’t put Sano-san in charge of rescuing the honorable Lady Nobuko. It’s his fault she’s missing!”

  Yanagisawa said, “Yoritomo! Be quiet!” His face mirrored the dismay that Sano felt.

  “What? How can that be?” the shogun said, confused. “No, keep talking, Yoritomo-san. I want to hear.”

  Sano was forced to listen while Yoritomo spilled the whole story of the three women kidnapped and raped, Sano’s futile attempt to have Chiyo and Fumiko identify the two suspects at Edo Jail, and the missing oxcart drivers. He must have been keeping track of the investigation. Yanagisawa’s face was set in an expression of disapproval toward his son. The shogun frowned, trying to understand the story. Officials and troops moved closer to hear, like sharks scenting blood in the water.

  “Chamberlain Sano let the kidnappers go.” Yoritomo addressed the shogun but looked straight at Sano. “It’s his fault that they’re at large.” Yoritomo’s dark, luminous eyes glittered with hatred. He looked disturbingly like his father had in the past, when Yanagisawa had spoken against Sano at every opportunity. “Therefore, Chamberlain Sano is to blame for whatever happens to Lady Nobuko.”

  “That’s enough, son,” Yanagisawa said grimly. “Leave us.”

  Yoritomo walked away, but the damage was done. He cast a triumphant glance over his shoulder at Sano.

  “Your Excellency, please allow me to explain,” Sano began, wondering how in the world to defend himself when he was guilty of everything Yoritomo had said.

  The shogun gazed after Yoritomo in openmouthed shock, then turned on Sano. “How could you do this to me? After all I’ve done for you!” He struck Sano’s chest with his soft, weak hand. “Find Lady Nobuko, and bring her home safe and sound, or I’ll put you and your family and all your close associates to death!”

  Here was the threat that he’d used against Sano many times in the past, the threat that Sano most feared. Sano felt a familiar, terrible sinking sensation.

  “I’ve, ahh, told you that before,” the shogun said, “but this time I mean it.” He jabbed his finger at Sano. “Fail, and you all die!”

  “I’ll find her. I promise.” Sano thought of Reiko, Masahiro, Akiko, and all the people whose lives depended on him. In the past, he’d always managed to solve his cases and avert the threat. Could he this time?

  “If I may put in a word, Your Excellency,” Yanagisawa said, “but this isn’t Chamberlain Sano’s fault. The real culprit is the person who kidnapped Lady Nobuko—if indeed she was kidnapped, which we don’t yet know for sure.”

  Even in the midst of his distress, Sano noted the irony that Yanagisawa was defending him after so many attempts to ruin him. He had to appreciate Yanagisawa’s efforts whether he trusted Yanagisawa or not.

  “You’re right, it’s not entirely Chamberlain Sano’s fault,” the shogun said. “If you had been, ahh, doing your job all these years, there wouldn’t be evil criminals around to attack my family.” He jabbed his finger at Yanagisawa. “It’s your fault, too!”

  It was Yanagisawa’s turn to look dismayed, and Sano’s turn to defend his former enemy. “Your Excellency, with all due respect, Chamberlain Yanagisawa had nothing to do with what happened to your wife.”

  “I just said he does. That means he did!” The shogun had never been known for rationality, but his word was the law. His tearful glare fixe
d on Yanagisawa, his old friend and onetime lover. “You let me down. You and Chamberlain Sano must find my wife, or you’ll share his punishment!”

  He turned and flounced into the castle. His attendants traipsed behind him cautiously, afraid of his temper. The troops and officials departed as fast as ants scurrying into their hills. Sano, his detectives, and Yanagisawa looked at each other in mutual, dumbfounded apprehension.

  “Well,” Sano said to Yanagisawa, “hadn’t we better get started?”

  Two armies of samurai on horse back descended on Chomei Temple, from which Lady Nobuko had disappeared. Sano led one army, Yanagisawa the other. They and their troops stopped and questioned people, searched the temple grounds and the surrounding Mukojima district. The afternoon passed; night fell. Carrying torches, the armies fanned out in widening spirals around the temple. They went from door to door, questioning the residents, inspecting the houses. Not until dawn did Sano and Yanagisawa return to Edo Castle.

  “Where is she?” the shogun demanded as they walked into his chamber. “Have you found her yet?”

  “I’m sorry, Your Excellency, but we haven’t,” Sano said.

  Lady Nobuko seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth.

  The shogun pouted as he picked at his breakfast of steamed buns, noodles with prawns, and sweet cakes. Sano’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since last night.

  “Then go out and look some more,” the shogun said. “Find her before sunrise tomorrow, or I’ll have both your heads.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency,” Yanagisawa said.

  He looked as weary and discouraged as Sano felt. As they walked down the palace corridor, he said, “If this case is like your others, then we won’t have to keep up the search much longer. With luck, the kidnapper will dump Lady Nobuko near the shrine in time for us to meet our deadline.”

  “That’s not good enough, and you know it,” Sano said, testy from fatigue. “The shogun wants her back safe and sound, not drugged and violated.”