somebody with him,“ Sano said. ”Lord Matsumae gave his permission to investigate the murder where we need to as long as we’re escorted.“
“Lord Matsumae also said everything you do has to be cleared with him in advance.”
“Fine,” Sano said. “Ask him if it’s all right for Hirata-san to go into town and interview a suspect.” Impatient because he must find Reiko before anyone else got to her, Sano added, “Come on, stop wasting time!”
“All right, all right.” Okimoto told two men to take Hirata to Lord Matsumae and the others to accompany him and Sano. “But don’t let Lord Matsumae know that the woman’s escaped or that Chamberlain Sano is looking for her instead of the killer.”
Sano realized that Lord Matsumae’s men were terrified of him even though they carried out his insane, cruel orders. Rarely had samurai duty seemed so perverted, so destructive.
“As for you,” Okimoto said to Sano and Hirata, “you’d better not try anything funny.”
As Reiko gazed up at the keep, memory cast her back to a time when a different madman, who’d called himself the Dragon King, had imprisoned her in a tower on another remote island. A sense of deja vu sickened Reiko. Now her son was the captive.
“I must rescue him!”
She started outside, but Wente ran after her. “No can go! Dangerous!”
“I don’t care!”
Wente blocked her path. “Soldiers there.” Her pretty face was stricken with alarm. “They catch you. Hurt you.”
“Not if I can help it.” Looking around the shed, Reiko saw tools hung on a wall-hammers, knives, awls, hatchets. She snatched down a sturdy knife with a wooden handle and a long, sharp steel blade.
“In case I don’t see you again, I’ll thank you now for helping me find my son,” Reiko said. “If there’s anything I can do for you in return, I will.”
“No,” Wente pleaded. Her mouth worked inside its blue tattoo as she fumbled for words. “You don’t know how go. You get lost.”
Finding her way to the keep didn’t appear difficult to Reiko, who’d navigated around huge, labyrinthine Edo all her life. “Good-bye.”
The dogs jumped in front of her. They barked and snapped. Rather than attacking her, they seemed anxious to protect her. She cried “Get away from me!” and waved her knife.
Wente uttered a command in Ezo language. The dogs retreated. She hesitated, frowned, and bit her lip. “I go with you. I show you.”
“All right,” Reiko said.
As Wente led her by the hand through the castle grounds, Reiko felt thankful to have a guide. Wente knew how to walk as if invisible. Maybe it was an Ezo talent developed while hunting game in the forests. Maybe she’d just had practice hiding from the Japanese in Fukuyama Castle. She and Reiko flitted from behind one building, tree, boulder, or snow pile to another. They avoided servants and officials who passed near them along the paths and covered corridors. Wente seemed to anticipate where the patrol guards would be. Reiko saw many across courtyards and gardens, but never near her and Wente. She felt invisible, as if Ezogashima had many different dimensions and they moved through one hidden from other humans.
Skirting the palace, they slipped through a gate and emerged into a compound. On a low hill at the center stood the keep. Seen at close range, the square tower wasn’t white but dingy gray, the plaster on its surface cracked and weather stained. Gulls swept down from the brilliant turquoise sky and perched on the tiled roofs, whose upturned eaves protruded above each story. Bars covered the small windows. Reiko squinted against the sun at them, and although she couldn’t see inside, her whole being tingled with the sense that Masahiro was there. She wanted to hurl herself at the keep.
A flight of steps led up the hill to it. The snow had been shoveled off them. At the top, the ironclad door of the keep opened. The sound of coughing drifted down to Reiko. Two young soldiers stepped
“Lord Matsumae also said everything you do has to be cleared with him in advance.”
“Fine,” Sano said. “Ask him if it’s all right for Hirata-san to go into town and interview a suspect.” Impatient because he must find Reiko before anyone else got to her, Sano added, “Come on, stop wasting time!”
“All right, all right.” Okimoto told two men to take Hirata to Lord Matsumae and the others to accompany him and Sano. “But don’t let Lord Matsumae know that the woman’s escaped or that Chamberlain Sano is looking for her instead of the killer.”
Sano realized that Lord Matsumae’s men were terrified of him even though they carried out his insane, cruel orders. Rarely had samurai duty seemed so perverted, so destructive.
“As for you,” Okimoto said to Sano and Hirata, “you’d better not try anything funny.”
As Reiko gazed up at the keep, memory cast her back to a time when a different madman, who’d called himself the Dragon King, had imprisoned her in a tower on another remote island. A sense of deja vu sickened Reiko. Now her son was the captive.
“I must rescue him!”
She started outside, but Wente ran after her. “No can go! Dangerous!”
“I don’t care!”
Wente blocked her path. “Soldiers there.” Her pretty face was stricken with alarm. “They catch you. Hurt you.”
“Not if I can help it.” Looking around the shed, Reiko saw tools hung on a wall-hammers, knives, awls, hatchets. She snatched down a sturdy knife with a wooden handle and a long, sharp steel blade.
“In case I don’t see you again, I’ll thank you now for helping me find my son,” Reiko said. “If there’s anything I can do for you in return, I will.”
“No,” Wente pleaded. Her mouth worked inside its blue tattoo as she fumbled for words. “You don’t know how go. You get lost.”
Finding her way to the keep didn’t appear difficult to Reiko, who’d navigated around huge, labyrinthine Edo all her life. “Good-bye.”
The dogs jumped in front of her. They barked and snapped. Rather than attacking her, they seemed anxious to protect her. She cried “Get away from me!” and waved her knife.
Wente uttered a command in Ezo language. The dogs retreated. She hesitated, frowned, and bit her lip. “I go with you. I show you.”
“All right,” Reiko said.
As Wente led her by the hand through the castle grounds, Reiko felt thankful to have a guide. Wente knew how to walk as if invisible. Maybe it was an Ezo talent developed while hunting game in the forests. Maybe she’d just had practice hiding from the Japanese in Fukuyama Castle. She and Reiko flitted from behind one building, tree, boulder, or snow pile to another. They avoided servants and officials who passed near them along the paths and covered corridors. Wente seemed to anticipate where the patrol guards would be. Reiko saw many across courtyards and gardens, but never near her and Wente. She felt invisible, as if Ezogashima had many different dimensions and they moved through one hidden from other humans.
Skirting the palace, they slipped through a gate and emerged into a compound. On a low hill at the center stood the keep. Seen at close range, the square tower wasn’t white but dingy gray, the plaster on its surface cracked and weather stained. Gulls swept down from the brilliant turquoise sky and perched on the tiled roofs, whose upturned eaves protruded above each story. Bars covered the small windows. Reiko squinted against the sun at them, and although she couldn’t see inside, her whole being tingled with the sense that Masahiro was there. She wanted to hurl herself at the keep.
A flight of steps led up the hill to it. The snow had been shoveled off them. At the top, the ironclad door of the keep opened. The sound of coughing drifted down to Reiko. Two young soldiers stepped
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