“I obtained a letter of introduction to Minister Ogyu’s wife,” Reiko said, “from my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother? You went to her?” Sano was surprised; he’d seen how badly the old woman treated Reiko.
“If I can learn something that helps us identify the killer, it will be worth a lifetime of her scolding and insults,” Reiko said.
“I saw Priest Ryuko today at the palace,” Masahiro said.
“Oh?” Sano had thought Masahiro was asleep, but of course he’d been listening to the conversation. “He’s been at Z o j o Temple leading prayers since the earthquake.”
“He has a room in the shogun’s guesthouse. He came back this evening.” Since he’d become a page, Masahiro was a font of information. “How about if I spy on him for you?”
“Only if you can do it without neglecting the shogun,” Sano said.
“Um…” Masahiro said.
Reiko raised herself on one elbow to look across Sano at their son. “What is it?”
“I have to tell you and Father something.” Pride and apprehension resonated in Masahiro’s voice. “Today the shogun put me in charge of his chambers.”
“How-” Sano began so loudly that Akiko whimpered and Reiko shushed him. He was pleased that Masahiro had gained such favor, yet concerned about the ramifications. “How did that happen?” he whispered.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Masahiro sounded guilty now. As he described how he’d grabbed the shogun to stop him from beating his concubine, Reiko and Sano groaned. To lay a hand on the supreme dictator was a capital offense. When Masahiro revealed that the shogun had meekly surrendered and rewarded Masahiro for teaching him how to care for his possessions, Sano and Reiko sighed in relief.
“You don’t know how lucky you are to be alive!” Reiko said.
“Yes, I do.” Masahiro said anxiously, “Are you going to punish me?”
“Of course not. You did what you thought was right.” Sano was distressed because that was how he’d lived his own life, often to his detriment, and his son was following his example. He silently cursed the earthquake, which had created the circumstances for Masahiro to distinguish himself. “But you’re in a dangerous position. The shogun will expect more of you. Whenever you do something, he’ll expect more again. Sometimes your best won’t be good enough.”
“Spoken from experience,” Reiko murmured.
“What should I do?” Oddly, Masahiro sounded eager for the challenge as well as daunted by Sano’s prediction.
“Be more careful than ever. And watch out for the people around you. There’s always someone who wants to knock the high chestnut out of the tree.” It was the best political advice Sano had to offer. He’d just never dreamed his son would need it this soon.
The sound of footsteps preceded light from the corridor that shone through the lattice-and-paper wall. Sano sat up as Detective Marume appeared in the doorway, holding a lantern.
“I just found Madam Usugumo’s missing apprentice,” Marume said.
After a hot bath, a hearty meal, and sleeping all day, Yanagisawa spent the evening with his chief retainer, going over his finances. They were in worse shape than he’d thought. After his demotion, his stipend had been reduced by thirty percent. Some lands the shogun had granted him had been confiscated, and he’d lost the income from the rice grown on them. During his eleven months of seclusion, his staff had worsened the situation by keeping all his retainers on his payroll and borrowing money at high interest to cover the shortfall. Yanagisawa was furious.
“Dismiss half my army, retainers, and servants.” He hated to lose the soldiers, but he could no longer feed them. If war became necessary before he regained the shogun’s favor, he would have to rely on his allies’ support. “After that, dismiss yourself. I don’t need a chief retainer who runs me into bankruptcy.”
Horrified that he and his comrades were to become r o nin, deprived of their income and their honor, the man said, “But where will we go?”
“I don’t care. And don’t look at me like that. I counted on you to watch out for my interests, and you let me down. You’re lucky I don’t put every one of you to death.”
The man blanched and scurried out of the room. Yanagisawa slumped behind his desk, his head in his hands, and gazed at the ledgers with their columns of debts and losses. He was as angry at himself as at his retainers. This was his punishment for indulging his grief.
One of his bodyguards came to the door with the news Yanagisawa had been waiting for all day. “He’s there.”
Yanagisawa’s second trip was even more arduous than the first. The sky had cleared, but an icy wind blew, whipping up snow, hurling it against Yanagisawa and his bodyguards as they rode through the ruined, frozen city. Without the lights that normally burned at neighborhood gates, the stars were so brilliant that looking at them hurt Yanagisawa’s eyes. The moon resembled a white skull-face. During the ferry ride across the river, waves rocked the boat; cold spray lashed Yanagisawa. Wet and chilled, he arrived at the house where his sons lived.
Inside, his bodyguards accompanied him along dim corridors to a room where the lattice-and-paper wall glowed from a lantern within. His other guard, who’d stayed to keep watch over Yoshisato, opened the door. Yanagisawa motioned to all of his men to wait outside the house. His heart thudded with apprehension as he entered the room.
A young man sat against the wall, his legs drawn up and his arms folded. When he saw Yanagisawa, he sprang to his feet. He didn’t bow. It was the height of rudeness. He stood with his hands on his hips. Yanagisawa put his anger aside while he and his son studied each other. Yoshisato was shorter, with a compact, wiry build. He had Someko’s wide face, rounded chin, and tilted eyes that sparkled fiercely. Yanagisawa saw nothing of himself in Yoshisato, but he felt a surge of elation, for Yoshisato was undeniably handsome; he didn’t look stupid or awkward. He might do very well.
“Hello, son,” Yanagisawa said. “At last we meet.”
“‘At last?’” Yoshisato’s voice was deeper and rougher than Yanagisawa’s. He combined a frown with a scornful grimace. “We’ve met before. Or so my mother tells me. But you’ve forgotten. And excuse me if I don’t remember, either. I was a newborn baby.”
His impertinence shocked Yanagisawa, who couldn’t help being pleased to see that his son had inherited something from him-his nerve. “You’d better file the edges off that sharp tongue,” he said with amusement.
Yoshisato seemed puzzled because Yanagisawa didn’t reprimand him, suspicious of Yanagisawa’s motives.
Yanagisawa said, “Why did you run away when I came to see you this morning?”
“Why do you want to see me after ignoring me for seventeen years?” Yoshisato folded his arms.
Yanagisawa realized that Yoshisato was angry and hurt because he’d been ignored. That was why he’d run away-to spite his neglectful father. Yanagisawa was surprised; he’d not thought about whether his sons minded his absence. He did think he could use Yoshisato’s feelings to his own advantage.
“I want to apologize.” The words tasted strange in Yanagisawa’s mouth; he rarely apologized to anybody. “A lot of things have happened since you were born. I’ve been responsible for running the government. I fought a war and lost. I was exiled. I managed to come back, but I’ve had a struggle on my hands.”
“In other words, you were too busy for me. But not too busy for Yoritomo.”
Hearing Yoritomo’s name spoken in such a hateful tone made Yanagisawa so furious that he wanted to punch Yoshisato. He controlled his temper, with difficulty. “I’ve given you everything you need.”
“Food, clothes, schooling, martial arts lessons, a nice house, yes.” Rancor pervaded Yoshisato’s voice. “Good enough for a bastard. But some bastards get more than others, don’t they?”
Yanagisawa clenched his fists. The desire to grab Yoshisato and beat him until he begged for mercy was almost irresistible. “You’re jealous of Yoritomo.”