Sano.
“You won’t tell anybody, will you?” Hirata said anxiously.
“Not unless it’s necessary, and right now I don’t see why it would be,” Sano said. Obligation worked both ways with them.
Hirata let out a breath of relief. “Then you don’t object to my training with Ozuno?”
Sano hesitated. Training with a master such as Ozuno was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Furthermore, Sano couldn’t begrudge Hirata the chance to overcome his physical weakness: Hirata had been wounded in the process of saving Sano’s life.
“No. But I must caution you,” Sano said. “It’s not just my approval that you should worry about. Next time you go off to a training session, Lord Matsudaira and the shogun might not forgive you.”
“I know.” Hirata sounded torn between samurai duty and personal desire.
“And it was dangerous to allow your training to interfere with your duty,” Sano went on. “You put yourself under too much pressure to placate Lord Matsudaira, all the while you’re in such a hurry to return to your lessons that you’re skipping important steps.”
“A thousand apologies,” Hirata mumbled, his face full of distress.
“Apologies aren’t what I need,” Sano said. “I need your help solving this case and clearing my wife. I need to know that you’ll give it your full attention and your best effort.”
“I will,” Hirata said with fervor. “I promise.”
Sano only hoped that he could trust Hirata. “Well, we’d better get over to the palace. Lord Matsudaira and the shogun must be wondering what’s taking us so long.”
In the palace audience chamber, the shogun sat on the dais, cowed by fear of Lord Matsudaira, who knelt below him in the place of honor at his right. Lord Matsudaira’s expression was thunderous with rage. The guards stood perfectly still along the walls, as if the slightest movement would bring his wrath down upon them. As Sano and Hirata walked into the room, Lord Matsudaira said, “When were you going to tell me that Lord Mori had been murdered?”
Sano stifled the curse that rose to his lips. Lord Matsudaira must have spies inside the Mori estate, who’d smuggled the news to him. That Sano had delayed reporting the news himself made his situation worse.
“I was planning to tell you after I’d seen what had happened,” Sano improvised as he and Hirata knelt and bowed. “I wanted to bring you a report on the progress of the inquiry into Lord Mori’s death.”
Lord Matsudaira narrowed his eyes, suspicious that Sano had deliberately withheld information and wondering at his intentions. “Well? How did Lord Mori die?”
“He was stabbed and castrated,” Sano said.
The shogun gasped in horror. Distress stirred the guards. Lord Matsudaira frowned as though personally insulted. “Did you find out who killed him?”
“Not yet.” Sano spoke in a firm, authoritative voice, to hide the fact that he was hedging while he thought what to say.
“Are there any suspects?”
“Everyone in the Mori household is a suspect.” But Sano knew he couldn’t keep Reiko’s involvement a secret forever, and better that Lord Matsudaira heard about it from him than anyone else. “There has been an attempt to incriminate my wife.” Lord Matsudaira stared and the shogun gaped. “She—”
“She was found in Lord Mori’s bedchamber, naked and covered in blood, alone with his dead, mutilated body.” Into the room strode Police Commissioner Hoshina, tall and muscular and proud. His handsome face shone with malevolent pleasure. With him was his chief retainer, Captain Torai, a slighter, lesser version of himself. Both grinned at Sano, relishing his misfortune.
Alarm assailed Sano because his enemy had obviously heard the news from his own spies and rushed here to capitalize on it. Sano recalled the meeting with General Isogai and the elders, and their warning about Hoshina’s new campaign to destroy him.
“Is this true?” Lord Matsudaira said, glaring at
“You won’t tell anybody, will you?” Hirata said anxiously.
“Not unless it’s necessary, and right now I don’t see why it would be,” Sano said. Obligation worked both ways with them.
Hirata let out a breath of relief. “Then you don’t object to my training with Ozuno?”
Sano hesitated. Training with a master such as Ozuno was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Furthermore, Sano couldn’t begrudge Hirata the chance to overcome his physical weakness: Hirata had been wounded in the process of saving Sano’s life.
“No. But I must caution you,” Sano said. “It’s not just my approval that you should worry about. Next time you go off to a training session, Lord Matsudaira and the shogun might not forgive you.”
“I know.” Hirata sounded torn between samurai duty and personal desire.
“And it was dangerous to allow your training to interfere with your duty,” Sano went on. “You put yourself under too much pressure to placate Lord Matsudaira, all the while you’re in such a hurry to return to your lessons that you’re skipping important steps.”
“A thousand apologies,” Hirata mumbled, his face full of distress.
“Apologies aren’t what I need,” Sano said. “I need your help solving this case and clearing my wife. I need to know that you’ll give it your full attention and your best effort.”
“I will,” Hirata said with fervor. “I promise.”
Sano only hoped that he could trust Hirata. “Well, we’d better get over to the palace. Lord Matsudaira and the shogun must be wondering what’s taking us so long.”
In the palace audience chamber, the shogun sat on the dais, cowed by fear of Lord Matsudaira, who knelt below him in the place of honor at his right. Lord Matsudaira’s expression was thunderous with rage. The guards stood perfectly still along the walls, as if the slightest movement would bring his wrath down upon them. As Sano and Hirata walked into the room, Lord Matsudaira said, “When were you going to tell me that Lord Mori had been murdered?”
Sano stifled the curse that rose to his lips. Lord Matsudaira must have spies inside the Mori estate, who’d smuggled the news to him. That Sano had delayed reporting the news himself made his situation worse.
“I was planning to tell you after I’d seen what had happened,” Sano improvised as he and Hirata knelt and bowed. “I wanted to bring you a report on the progress of the inquiry into Lord Mori’s death.”
Lord Matsudaira narrowed his eyes, suspicious that Sano had deliberately withheld information and wondering at his intentions. “Well? How did Lord Mori die?”
“He was stabbed and castrated,” Sano said.
The shogun gasped in horror. Distress stirred the guards. Lord Matsudaira frowned as though personally insulted. “Did you find out who killed him?”
“Not yet.” Sano spoke in a firm, authoritative voice, to hide the fact that he was hedging while he thought what to say.
“Are there any suspects?”
“Everyone in the Mori household is a suspect.” But Sano knew he couldn’t keep Reiko’s involvement a secret forever, and better that Lord Matsudaira heard about it from him than anyone else. “There has been an attempt to incriminate my wife.” Lord Matsudaira stared and the shogun gaped. “She—”
“She was found in Lord Mori’s bedchamber, naked and covered in blood, alone with his dead, mutilated body.” Into the room strode Police Commissioner Hoshina, tall and muscular and proud. His handsome face shone with malevolent pleasure. With him was his chief retainer, Captain Torai, a slighter, lesser version of himself. Both grinned at Sano, relishing his misfortune.
Alarm assailed Sano because his enemy had obviously heard the news from his own spies and rushed here to capitalize on it. Sano recalled the meeting with General Isogai and the elders, and their warning about Hoshina’s new campaign to destroy him.
“Is this true?” Lord Matsudaira said, glaring at
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