The Incense Game (27 page)

“I can’t tell you,” Hirata said between clenched teeth. “You know that.”

“I know that you’ve changed since you met those three. You’re secretive and cross all the time. I don’t like it. And neither does Sano-
san
, obviously.” Fear quenched her anger. Her hand went to her throat, and she said in a hushed voice, “What happens next? Sano-
san
throws you out and you become a
r
ō
nin
?”

“No. He wouldn’t,” Hirata lied.

Midori bent and clutched his arm. “Whatever you’re up to with those men, you have to stop it! Before you ruin us!”

Their hold over him shackled Hirata like iron chains. “I can’t.”

“Why not? Are you so infatuated with them that you’ll let them make you lose everything?” Midori’s anger resurged. “Maybe you don’t care about yourself, but what about me and our children? How are we supposed to live when we’re thrown out in the streets? Don’t you care about us anymore?”

“That’s not it,” Hirata protested.

“Then what is it? Why must you continue going along with those men?”

The secrets he’d been keeping filled Hirata like pus in a boil. Their volume had swelled to the bursting point. Hirata had to let something out. “Unless I do, they’ll kill Sano-
san
.”

Midori crumpled as if he’d struck her behind the knees. “Oh.” She understood that his master’s murder was a calamity that a samurai must do everything in his power to avert. “Well, can’t you protect Sano-
san
?”

“No.” Hirata heard the flatness of defeat in his voice. “They’re stronger than I am.”

Midori frowned in disbelief. “You’re the best fighter in Edo.”

“I’m only the one who’s won the tournaments and duels. Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi have kept their powers to themselves—so far.”

“Tell Sano-
san
. Surround him with guards,” Midori suggested. “Those men won’t be able to get close enough to touch him.”

“Yes, they will.” As Hirata told her about the prayer tag that Tahara had planted on Sano, he watched horror erase her disbelief. “I can’t keep him safe. Except by doing what they want me to do.”

“What do they want you to do?”

“I can’t tell you. I’ve already said too much.” Hirata knew the men would kill whoever learned more about their business than they liked, including women and children. “It’s too dangerous for you to know.”

Midori wrung her hands. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“Nothing, I promise,” Hirata said with too hearty confidence. “Everything will be fine.” But first he must do the ghost’s bidding.

After Midori left him to look after the children, who were playing outside, Hirata glumly contemplated the message branded on his arm. He couldn’t just walk up to Lord Ienobu and say, “Come to the shogun’s garden with me.” Ienobu would want to know why, or refuse outright. Hirata supposed he could use his mystical powers to make Ienobu follow him as mindlessly as a sleepwalker. But they might run into someone who would notice that something was odd about Ienobu and accuse Hirata of casting an evil spell over him. Hirata especially didn’t want Sano to see him and wonder what he was doing. He decided against sneaking up behind Ienobu, hitting him on the head, knocking him unconscious, putting his body in a sack, and dumping him in the garden at the designated hour. In addition to the risk of being caught, he might hurt Ienobu.
Think!
he exhorted himself.
You haven’t much time left!

Hirata mulled over his store of information about Lord Ienobu, whom he didn’t personally know. He’d heard the man was ambitious, sneaky, selfish, and had his eye on the dictatorship. That was all. It was enough.

Rummaging in the household clutter, Hirata found writing supplies and a blank sheet of paper. He prepared ink, dipped a brush, and wrote in square, blocky characters that disguised his calligraphy:
Go to the shogun’s garden at the hour of the cock tomorrow, and you will learn something to your advantage.
Hirata rolled the letter without signing it and put it in a bamboo scroll container. Surely Ienobu wouldn’t be able to ignore an anonymous tip. All Hirata had to do was get the letter into Ienobu’s hands.

Then he would continue his investigation into Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi.

*   *   *

“YOU’RE BACK ALREADY?”
Reiko’s grandmother said, standing outside her tent. “Did you have a nice visit with Lady Ogyu?”

Reiko climbed out of her palanquin. “Not especially.”

“I want to hear all about it.” Grandmother’s eyes sparkled with eagerness. “Come inside.”

They sat in the tent, where the old woman served murky soup that reeked of onions, fermented fish, and vinegar. Reiko said, “None for me, thank you,” and described her attempt to pump Lady Ogyu about her husband and the murders.

“Well, you really flubbed your chance,” her grandmother said. “You should have been more subtle.”

“Like you?” Reiko couldn’t resist saying.

Her grandmother waggled a finger at Reiko. “Now, now, don’t be sarcastic, my girl. Was my letter of reference completely wasted?”

“Not completely.” Reiko described how she’d eavesdropped on Minister Ogyu and his wife.

“That’s exactly what I’d have done. Maybe you did inherit a few of my wits. So what did you hear?”

Reiko related the Ogyus’ conversation. “I think the old woman named Kasane may be able to supply the proof that Minister Ogyu is the murderer.”

“And you want my help finding out who she is and where she is.” Grandmother shook her head. “Can’t you do anything without me?”

“I would be very grateful for your assistance,” Reiko said humbly.

Grandmother pondered. “Kasane, Kasane. Give me a moment.” Reiko imagined the old woman sorting through pages of history stored in her capacious memory, the paper yellowed but the writing still black and clear. “The Ogyu family had a nursemaid named Kasane.”

Reiko wasn’t surprised that her grandmother knew the servants employed by high-society families. She poached them whenever she fired her own unsatisfactory servants.

“There was something odd,” Grandmother went on. “Kasane was given a yearly income and went to live near relatives in Mitake. It must have been more than fifteen years ago.”

“That is odd,” Reiko said. Usually, longtime servants either were allowed to stay on with the family, which supported them in their old age, or were cast off to fend for themselves. It was a rare, benevolent employer who let a servant go her own way on his payroll.

“So.” Grandmother gave Reiko a smug look that proclaimed her own superiority and Reiko’s indebtedness to her. “Hadn’t you better go home and prepare for the trip?”

*   *   *

AFTER HE FINISHED
exchanging respects with the officials who’d welcomed him back to court, whether they were glad to see him or not, Yanagisawa entered the guesthouse and headed toward the shogun’s chambers. He’d been away too long. How superfluous he’d made himself, how vulnerable! But he’d needed to let his grief have its way with him so that he could rise again, stronger than ever, when the time came. That time was now. He must fight to reclaim the place that was rightfully his, and here was the first obstacle to surmount.

Ienobu stood in the corridor. His small, hunched figure blocked Yanagisawa’s path. His ugly face was twisted with displeasure.

“Greetings, Lord Ienobu.” Yanagisawa stopped and bowed.

Ienobu demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to call on His Excellency.” Yanagisawa thought it was too bad he hadn’t arranged a fatal “accident” for Ienobu a long time ago. He’d wrongly assumed Ienobu would never crawl out from under his rock.

“But you haven’t left your house in almost a year.” Ienobu had apparently thought that grief had done Yanagisawa in and he needn’t worry about competition from the shogun’s old friend. “You’ve taken no interest in
my uncle.
” He emphasized his relationship to the shogun. “Or in government business.”

“That’s all changed.” Yanagisawa smiled at Ienobu’s vexation. He advanced down the corridor, forcing Ienobu to shuffle backward. “You have only yourself to blame.” If not for Ienobu’s order to leave the capital, Yanagisawa might still be lying in bed, a threat to no one.

“You mustn’t bother my uncle,” Ienobu protested. “He doesn’t want to see anybody.”

“He’ll see me.” Yanagisawa kept going, with feigned confidence. How would the shogun take his sudden reappearance?

“You had better get your affairs in order for your trip to your new post in Tosa Province,” Ienobu said, shuffling faster. “You’re supposed to leave in a few days.”

Yanagisawa snorted. That this grotesque insect thought to dispense with him so easily! “I’m not going.”

“My uncle ordered you to go. You have to obey.”

“We both know who those orders really came from.” Yanagisawa jabbed his finger at Ienobu as he bore down on him. “I don’t obey
you.
”

Ienobu stopped with his back against the closed door to the shogun’s chambers. “You can’t go in there.” His eyes bulged with his fear that Yanagisawa would undo his efforts to secure his place as heir to the dictatorship.

“Who’s to stop me?” Yanagisawa said.

“Guards!” Ienobu called. Two soldiers came. “Take this trespasser outside.”

Yanagisawa gave the guards a look that concentrated the power of his personality, that bespoke his reputation as a man to be feared. “You’re dismissed. Leave.”

The guards went. Yanagisawa said to Ienobu, “Step aside.”

Furious yet impotent, Ienobu obeyed.

A victory always energized Yanagisawa, and this first one over Ienobu reassured him that he hadn’t lost his touch. But his heart raced as he entered the room, shut the door behind him, and approached the shogun, who lay on cushions on the dais with his eyes closed. Two pages hovered. Yanagisawa shot them a glance; they tiptoed from the room. This might be the most important conversation he’d ever had. He waited, tense with nerves.

“Who’s there?” the shogun said.

“It’s I,” Yanagisawa said.

Surprise fluttered the shogun’s eyes open. “Yanagisawa-
san
?” He sat up, squinting in disbelief, then smiled. “You’re back!” He held out his hand to Yanagisawa. “Ahh, it’s good to see you again!”

He’d obviously forgotten that he’d ever been upset with Yanagisawa, ever demoted him. Yanagisawa breathed easier. He mounted the steps to the dais, knelt, and took the shogun’s soft, moist hand. That quickly he was back where he belonged.

“Where have you been?” the shogun asked. “Why did you leave me for so long?”

“I was in mourning for Yoritomo.” Yanagisawa’s voice cracked.

“Who?” The shogun frowned in confusion, then said, “Ahh, yes, your son.”

Yanagisawa felt hot outrage roil inside him. Yoritomo had been the shogun’s lover for nine years. He’d died trying to save the shogun’s life, and the shogun barely remembered who he was! Yanagisawa compressed his lips in a tight, false smile. He reminded himself that he’d always known how selfish and callous the shogun was and that he’d often taken advantage of it. He warned himself that losing his temper would get him in trouble, which Ienobu would love.

“I’m here now,” he said. “Ready to serve Your Excellency.”

He hated having to suck up to the shogun. Someday he wouldn’t have to anymore. When that day came, he would be safe at the top of the regime.

“Well, ahh, I’m glad. So many, ahh, terrible things have happened. The earthquake, and all the problems. I’m at my, ahh, wit’s end.” The shogun clung to Yanagisawa’s hand. “But now that you’re here, I feel better. You’ll tell me what to do, won’t you?”

Yanagisawa’s smile turned genuine. “Oh, I certainly will.”

The door scraped open. Ienobu poked his head into the room. Trust him to intrude when things were going so well, Yanagisawa thought with annoyance.

“Nephew, I don’t need you now,” the shogun said. “My old friend Yanagisawa is back.”

An angry flush worsened Ienobu’s looks. He started to withdraw, but Yanagisawa said, “Wait a moment.” Ienobu froze, suspicious. “Your nephew sent me an order stamped with your signature seal,” Yanagisawa told the shogun. “It said I’m supposed to leave Edo and take up a new post in Tosa Province. Is that what you want?”

“What? For you to leave?” The shogun shook his head, bewildered and dismayed. “No.” He clung harder to Yanagisawa.

“Then you rescind the order?” Yanagisawa asked.

“Yes, of course!” The shogun waggled his finger at Ienobu. “Never again take the liberty of acting on my behalf without asking me! Now leave us in peace.”

“Yes, Honorable Uncle.” Ienobu cast a venomous glance at Yanagisawa.

Yanagisawa smiled. Ienobu shut the door harder than necessary. Yanagisawa said to the shogun, “I have good news for you.”

“Really?” the shogun said eagerly. “I could use some good news, to make up for all the, ahh, bad things that have been happening.”

“There’s a very handsome, charming young man that I think you would like,” Yanagisawa said. “His name is Yoshisato. I’ll introduce you to him, if I may.”

Interest brightened the shogun’s eyes. “Indeed you may. Bring him soon.” He hauled himself to his feet, using Yanagisawa’s hand as a support. “I have to go to the Place of Relief. Masahiro, come help me.”

Yanagisawa was startled to see the boy step out of the shadows in the corner. It was Sano’s son. He was taller than when Yanagisawa had seen him—almost a man. He’d been there all along, heard the entire conversation. Yanagisawa inwardly cursed his own obliviousness. He would have to be more alert.

The shogun leaned on Masahiro’s arm. Masahiro accompanied him toward the door that led to his inner chamber. Yanagisawa studied the boy through narrowed eyes. Sano was responsible for Yoritomo’s death. Sano’s own son was still alive. Yanagisawa seethed with envy and hatred.

Masahiro looked over his shoulder at Yanagisawa. His gaze was sharp, intelligent. He was so much like Sano! Yanagisawa had to exert all his self-control to keep himself from killing Masahiro. He rose and walked out of the chamber. Ienobu was waiting for him in the corridor.