protect her yesterday. “I’m sorry for how Lady Matsumae treats you.”
Wente made a gesture of resignation that said volumes about what the Ezo endured from the Japanese. She studied Reiko as if curious about this rare Japanese who wasn’t cruel. “Yesterday. In Lady Matsumae’s room. I heard.” She groped for words, then cradled her arms, the universal sign language of a mother holding a child, and pointed at Reiko. Pity darkened her eyes. “I sorry.”
This was the first sign of genuine caring about her kidnapped child that anyone in Ezogashima had shown Reiko. It broke down Reiko’s self-control. Tears burned down her cold cheeks. Wente stood by, awkward and embarrassed.
“I sorry. I sorry,” she repeated, almost as though she were personally to blame and asking forgiveness.
“I don’t know what to do anymore.” Reiko’s tears froze as she wiped them away. A dog licked her hand. Its dumb, animal comfort jolted a sob from her. “Nobody will help me.”
“I help you.”
“How?” A glimmer of light pierced Reiko’s grief.
Eyes shining with gladness at being able to offer salvation, Wente said, “Boy here.”
Caution warred with the joy that leaped in Reiko. “But-but Lord Matsumae’s troops killed the men who brought my son. They must have killed Masahiro, too.”
“No, no.” Wente shook her head, adamant.
“How do you know?” Reiko said, desperate to believe.
“I listen. I see.” Wente beckoned Reiko to the door of the shed and pointed upward, at the white tower of the keep, which rose beyond and above the palace. “He there.”
“How did Lady Reiko get out?” Gizaemon demanded.
“I don’t know,” Deer Antlers said. “One moment she was in her room. The next time we checked on her…” He spread his empty hands.
“You idiot, Captain Okimoto! Letting a woman trick you!” Gizaemon turned in one direction, then another, so upset he was almost literally beside himself.
Sano was alarmed that Reiko had escaped, but not exactly surprised. He knew how determined she was to find Masahiro, and how clever about finding ways to go places she shouldn’t. “Does Lord Matsumae know?” Gizaemon asked.
“No,” said Okimoto. “We haven’t told him.”
“If he finds out, there’s no telling what
she’ll
put him up to.” Gizaemon was much less concerned about Reiko than about protecting Lord Matsumae from the evil spirit of Tekare. He mumbled to himself, “I’ve been trying to save him day and night, for three months. How much longer can this go on?”
He told Captain Okimoto, “I’m joining in the hunt. You fools take the barbarians back to their camp.” Pointing at Sano and Hirata, he added, “Lock them up.”
“No!” Fear for Reiko stabbed Sano. He leaped off the dais. “I’m going with you.”
When Gizaemon started to object, Sano said, “I can help you find my wife.”
“The last thing I need is you running around loose.” But Gizaemon hesitated, torn between his fear for his mad nephew, his distrust of Sano, and his wish to catch Reiko.
“I know how she thinks, the kind of places she would go,” Sano said. “She’ll hide from you, but she’ll come out for me.”
“Very well,” Gizaemon said reluctantly on his way out the door. “But Okimoto will keep a tight leash on you.”
Sano suddenly understood why Gizaemon was anxious to control him: He had secrets to hide. Did they have to do with Masahiro, the murder, or both?
Captain Okimoto scowled, but said, “Yes, master.” As he led Sano from the room, Hirata followed. “Hey. Where do you think you’re doing?”
“With you,” Hirata said.
“Oh no, you’re not.”
“I need you to talk to the gold merchant,” Sano told Hirata. They mustn’t delay the investigation. If they didn’t produce results for Lord Matsumae, the gods help them.
“Well, he can’t do that, either,” Okimoto retorted. “He’s not supposed to wander around by himself. Lord Matsumae’s orders.”
Then send
Wente made a gesture of resignation that said volumes about what the Ezo endured from the Japanese. She studied Reiko as if curious about this rare Japanese who wasn’t cruel. “Yesterday. In Lady Matsumae’s room. I heard.” She groped for words, then cradled her arms, the universal sign language of a mother holding a child, and pointed at Reiko. Pity darkened her eyes. “I sorry.”
This was the first sign of genuine caring about her kidnapped child that anyone in Ezogashima had shown Reiko. It broke down Reiko’s self-control. Tears burned down her cold cheeks. Wente stood by, awkward and embarrassed.
“I sorry. I sorry,” she repeated, almost as though she were personally to blame and asking forgiveness.
“I don’t know what to do anymore.” Reiko’s tears froze as she wiped them away. A dog licked her hand. Its dumb, animal comfort jolted a sob from her. “Nobody will help me.”
“I help you.”
“How?” A glimmer of light pierced Reiko’s grief.
Eyes shining with gladness at being able to offer salvation, Wente said, “Boy here.”
Caution warred with the joy that leaped in Reiko. “But-but Lord Matsumae’s troops killed the men who brought my son. They must have killed Masahiro, too.”
“No, no.” Wente shook her head, adamant.
“How do you know?” Reiko said, desperate to believe.
“I listen. I see.” Wente beckoned Reiko to the door of the shed and pointed upward, at the white tower of the keep, which rose beyond and above the palace. “He there.”
“How did Lady Reiko get out?” Gizaemon demanded.
“I don’t know,” Deer Antlers said. “One moment she was in her room. The next time we checked on her…” He spread his empty hands.
“You idiot, Captain Okimoto! Letting a woman trick you!” Gizaemon turned in one direction, then another, so upset he was almost literally beside himself.
Sano was alarmed that Reiko had escaped, but not exactly surprised. He knew how determined she was to find Masahiro, and how clever about finding ways to go places she shouldn’t. “Does Lord Matsumae know?” Gizaemon asked.
“No,” said Okimoto. “We haven’t told him.”
“If he finds out, there’s no telling what
she’ll
put him up to.” Gizaemon was much less concerned about Reiko than about protecting Lord Matsumae from the evil spirit of Tekare. He mumbled to himself, “I’ve been trying to save him day and night, for three months. How much longer can this go on?”
He told Captain Okimoto, “I’m joining in the hunt. You fools take the barbarians back to their camp.” Pointing at Sano and Hirata, he added, “Lock them up.”
“No!” Fear for Reiko stabbed Sano. He leaped off the dais. “I’m going with you.”
When Gizaemon started to object, Sano said, “I can help you find my wife.”
“The last thing I need is you running around loose.” But Gizaemon hesitated, torn between his fear for his mad nephew, his distrust of Sano, and his wish to catch Reiko.
“I know how she thinks, the kind of places she would go,” Sano said. “She’ll hide from you, but she’ll come out for me.”
“Very well,” Gizaemon said reluctantly on his way out the door. “But Okimoto will keep a tight leash on you.”
Sano suddenly understood why Gizaemon was anxious to control him: He had secrets to hide. Did they have to do with Masahiro, the murder, or both?
Captain Okimoto scowled, but said, “Yes, master.” As he led Sano from the room, Hirata followed. “Hey. Where do you think you’re doing?”
“With you,” Hirata said.
“Oh no, you’re not.”
“I need you to talk to the gold merchant,” Sano told Hirata. They mustn’t delay the investigation. If they didn’t produce results for Lord Matsumae, the gods help them.
“Well, he can’t do that, either,” Okimoto retorted. “He’s not supposed to wander around by himself. Lord Matsumae’s orders.”
Then send
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