White Serpent Castle by Lensey Namioka

taking advantage of the disorder caused by the ghost hunt to reach the envoy’s quarters unobserved by the chamberlain’s men.
    â€œHe can’t possibly sleep with all this uproar,” said Zenta. “Furthermore what I have to tell him is too urgent to wait until morning.”
    As honored guests of the castle, the envoy and his men occupied a luxurious suite of rooms on the grounds of the inner courtyard, close to the quarters of the chamberlain. His meager retinue was barely adequate to form a guard over the numerous entrances to his rooms.
    The two men exchanged greetings with the guards at one of the doors and asked whether Saemon had returned.
    â€œHe is still helping to mislead the ghost hunters,” said a guard, grinning. “The chamberlain’s men are probably giving up by now, and Saemon should be returning shortly. My master left instructions for you not to wait for Saemon but to go into his room immediately.” Pushing aside the sliding door, Zenta stepped into the principal bedroom of the envoy’s apartments. Matsuzo followed him and looked around with wide eyes at the elegance of the furnishings.
    In the midst of this luxury, the honored guest of the castle lay stretched out, apparently fast asleep. He was not lying under his bed quilts, which were spread out behind a painted screen. Instead he lay face down on the floor. The upper part of his body rested on what looked like a piece of crimson silk.
    Seeing the envoy asleep, Matsuzo shrank back and prepared to leave the room. Zenta did not even hesitate, but continued to approach. Before he reached halfway to the recumbent figure, he suddenly stopped short.
    Noticing Zenta’s shock, Matsuzo followed his glance and took a closer look at the vivid patch of crimson. In the profound silence of the room, the pounding of his heart felt thunderous.
    Zenta drew a shuddering breath. “I am too late,” he whispered. “What a fool I was not to foresee this!”
    A piercing shriek ripped through the air. Across the room in another doorway stood Lady Tama with Saemon behind her. In her dead white face, her staring eyes were huge and wild. Then her mouth twisted, and she shrieked again and again.
    Men started to move in the room behind Zenta and Matsuzo. The guards in the antechamber crowded into the doorway and stared at the tableau in the room.
    â€œYou murderer!” cried Lady Tama, her voice cracking. “You pretended to help, but all the time you were really working for the chamberlain!”
    Zenta made no reply but merely looked at her with wide unseeing eyes. Nor did he move when she snatched the dagger out of her sash and rushed at him.
    It was Matsuzo who moved quickly. He seized her wrist and gave a sharp twist. The dagger fell to the ground by the feet of the dead man. There was an angry growl from Saemon’s men.
    Fear sharpened Matsuzo’s wits. “Lady Tama, listen. We are not the ones who murdered the envoy. Look at our swords. They are clean.”
    Saemon looked up from his dead master and turned to the guards. “Search them for concealed weapons,” he ordered curtly.
    The men poured into the room. They stripped Zenta and Matsuzo of their swords and searched the two men for a bloody weapon.
    Zenta submitted passively to the rough search, still looking dazed by the murder. Matsuzo was surprised to see his friend so completely stunned. He himself was not deeply moved by the envoy’s death, having felt only awe and some dislike for the man. It seemed to him that the chamberlain would eventually receive just punishment for the murder, and the daimyo could simply send another envoy.
    Saemon’s men finished their search. “We couldn’t find any concealed weapon, sir, and there is no sign of a bloodstain on their swords,” they reported, obviously disappointed.
    Saemon was supporting Lady Tama in his arms. She was nearly choked with weeping. “He’s dead!”