The Incense Game (24 page)

The monk looked worried. “They’ll be hard to find. All the able-bodied men have been put on rebuilding the castle and city.”

“Get them taken off! Bribe someone!” Priest Ryuko turned. Now Masahiro could see his angry profile. He held out a cloth pouch that jingled as he shook it at the monk. “This should be enough money.”

Masahiro silently willed the priest to say where he was going and why.

The monk took the pouch and said, “All right.”

“We have to be ready to go by tomorrow.” Priest Ryuko’s tone was threatening as well as fretful. “Or it’s over for all of us.”

Although Masahiro had failed to learn the destination or the reason for the trip, he knew that people who were innocent didn’t need to leave town in a hurry. Guilty people did.

Priest Ryuko moved toward the door. Masahiro bolted, clutching the laundry to his heart, which beat fast with excitement. He couldn’t wait to tell his father what he’d heard.

25

AFTER LEAVING MINISTER
Ogyu, Sano went to the headquarters of the
metsuke,
the Tokugawa intelligence service. After the earthquake had flattened its offices inside the palace, it had moved to a watchtower on the castle wall halfway up the hill. The tower’s upper story had fallen off, but the lower level was solid enough for occupation. Sano pushed open the door and entered. Lanterns supplemented the light from the barred windows. Smoke from charcoal braziers turned the air gray and noxious. The room was crowded with trunks and cabinets moved from the palace. A lone agent hunched over a desk. He bowed to Sano and said, “Welcome, Honorable Chamberlain.”

The left sides of his face and neck, and both his hands, were bandaged with white cloth. He’d been burned when his house had caught fire during the earthquake, Sano knew. He wore a brown-and-black-striped kerchief tied around his head. The visible, unscathed half of his face was so ordinary, its features so unmemorable, that Sano had always had difficulty recognizing him. His appearance had once served him well in his profession as a spy.

“I’m glad to see you alive, Toda-
san
,” Sano said.

Toda smiled wryly with the half of his mouth that showed. “Thanks to the earthquake, I won’t be doing any more secret surveillance.” He lifted his hands to Sano, then touched the bandages on his face. “These would attract the attention of anybody I tried to spy on. The scars will be just as noticeable.”

Sano smiled, too, pitying Toda and admiring his philosophical attitude. “I’m glad you’ve kept your sense of humor.”

“My sense of humor is about all I did get to keep. The fire destroyed all my worldly goods. But sometimes in this life you just have to be glad that things aren’t worse.”

“True,” Sano said. “I came by to inspect the state of the
metsuke.
” His other purpose, he couldn’t allow Toda to guess.

“Half of our agents died during the earthquake, I regret to say. Twelve are still missing. As for our informants, we’re still trying to track them down.” The
metsuke
had employed hundreds of informants. “But we’ve located most of the people we like to watch, those that survived.” He gestured toward the walls, which were covered with charts that listed the names and whereabouts of high government officials, the
daimyo,
the wealthiest merchants, the most powerful gangsters, and the clergy at the important temples. “If we notice any unusual activity, I’ll let you know.”

Sano felt guilty because he knew about a threat to the regime and he couldn’t alert the
metsuke.
“By the way, I just spoke with Minister Ogyu from the Confucian academy. Do you know him?”

“We’ve met a few times.” Toda’s visible eye gleamed with curiosity. “Do I smell an investigation?”

“No, I just wondered what you think of him.” Sano recalled the conversation he’d witnessed, Ogyu giving the shogun advice. “Is he trustworthy enough to be around the shogun?”

“As trustworthy as anyone else.” Toda studied Sano as if wondering whether to trust him. “But he’s hard to get to know. His manner is too smooth. One slips off him before one can penetrate beneath the surface. Even when he drinks at banquets, he never loses his self-control and starts blabbing like other men do.”

“Have you investigated him?”

“Of course. His reputation is clean. There’s never been a hint of scandal associated with him or his family. We officially pronounced him harmless, although I can’t guarantee that he’s as pure as the Buddha.”

“Why not?” Sano asked.

“No one is.” Toda exuded cynicism. “The problem with investigating Ogyu was a lack of sources.”

“What about his parents?”

“Both dead. And he hasn’t any brothers or sisters or close relatives. Or any friends who know him very well.”

“How about the scholars and teachers at the Yushima Seid
ō
?”

“They said he never talked to them about anything except Confucianism or business concerning the school.”

“Have you cultivated informers inside his household? His retainers and servants?”

“We’ve tried. They’re remarkably closemouthed. They won’t betray him for money, or sex, either.” Toda sounded amazed by such loyalty, which he must have found to be rare.

“Such extreme privacy suggests that Ogyu has something to hide,” Sano said.

“Good luck finding out what it is.”

“I also ran into Priest Ryuko,” Sano said. “He’s very bad-tempered these days. Could he be a security problem?”

“He’s running scared,” Toda said. “Lady Keisho-in is a target of rumors about the astronomer’s pronouncement. Ryuko knows that if she goes down, so will he.”

That fear, plus the trauma caused by the earthquake, could drive any man to distraction, but Sano thought something more was afoot with Priest Ryuko. “But he has a close relationship with the shogun. Wouldn’t that continue even after Lady Keisho-in dies?”

“Doubtful. He hasn’t made himself very popular with government officials. Many of them blame him for the dog protection laws.”

The dog protection laws had been instituted when the shogun had first become concerned about his inability to father an heir. Priest Ryuko had advised Lady Keisho-in that an heir would be born only after the shogun made a law proclaiming that dogs should be protected, and killing or hurting one was a crime punishable by death. Lady Keisho-in had helped Priest Ryuko convince the shogun. So far no heir had appeared, and dogs bred unchecked, running rampant through Edo, fouling the streets, attacking citizens. People who’d defended themselves and hurt a dog in the process had been executed. The government shelter for stray dogs cost a fortune to maintain. It had been destroyed by the earthquake, and rebuilding it and feeding the dogs was a drain on scarce resources.

“No one is allowed to complain about the law, but they’re free to dislike Priest Ryuko.” Toda gave Sano a speculative look, trying to gauge the state of relations between Sano and the priest. Sano kept quiet. “If Lady Keisho-in dies, Ryuko will lose his temple and his stipend. He could end up an itinerant priest, begging alms along the highway.” Toda smiled with sly relish. “No wonder he’s scared.”

“Could there be another reason?” Sano asked.

Toda looked alert. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“No, I’m just conjecturing. What’s Ryuko’s financial situation?”

“We’ve heard he’s been spending more than usual.” Toda’s eye watched Sano, bright and curious. “He’s recently taken out big loans from several moneylenders. We haven’t been able to figure out why—he hasn’t built new houses, he doesn’t gamble or go to Yoshiwara or any of the usual things—but he’s deeply in debt.”

Here was evidence that Priest Ryuko, despite his denials, had been paying blackmail to Madam Usugumo. Sano was glad to think he was getting closer to solving the crime, yet he felt disturbed. Ryuko was still a formidable adversary. “How about Minister Ogyu? Has he recently increased his spending?”

“Not that we’re aware of. He hasn’t any debts. But his wife comes from a very wealthy clan, and her dowry was huge.” Toda added, “That’s another reason Ogyu is hard to know: Wealth buys privacy. His retainers handle his finances. He doesn’t employ merchant bankers, who give us the occasional tip.”

Sano felt as if Ogyu were a locked door that he was pounding on. “If you hear anything about him or Priest Ryuko, will you let me know?”

“My pleasure.” Toda sounded sincere, but Sano knew better than to trust him entirely. Toda served everyone and didn’t play favorites. That was how he survived political upheavals. In the past he’d withheld important information from Sano and helped Sano’s enemies. The only reason Sano consulted him was that Toda gave him more dirt than anyone else could.

“And don’t mention this conversation to them,” Sano said. “That’s an order.”

“I’m a paragon of discretion.” Toda smiled and put a finger to his lips.

Sano also knew that Toda wasn’t above defying an order from him or any other government official. Toda was duty-bound only to the shogun, whose regime he was employed to preserve. Betrayal was a risk Sano took every time he consulted Toda.

“I must say it seems odd that you mention Priest Ryuko and Minister Ogyu in the same breath. They move in different circles.” Toda’s one-eyed gaze probed Sano. “One would guess that they’re both suspects in a crime you’re investigating. But, of course, you don’t investigate crimes anymore.”

“Of course,” Sano said evenly. That Toda would see through his subterfuge was another risk he’d taken.

“If you were investigating them, I would offer you some friendly advice,” Toda said. “Beware of Priest Ryuko. When you corner a frightened dog, it bites.”

*   *   *

HAVING LEFT TAHARA,
Deguchi, and Kitano behind in the forest clearing, Hirata rode at breakneck speed to the edge of town. There he slowed down and looked backward. He didn’t see them following him, but he felt the faint pulse of their aura. They were too close no matter how much distance he put between them and himself. Riding, he felt light-headed from the trance and the potion. He had an obsessive desire to roll up his sleeve and see if the words on his arm had faded. He checked ten times before he reached the main gate of Edo Castle. Each time, the words were still there.

He decided to go home first, because he dreaded seeing Sano. Tahara’s threat accompanied him like a cold shadow licking his heart. When he dismounted from his horse inside his ruined estate, Midori peeked out of the storehouse.

“Thank the gods you’re back! I was so worried about you! Are you all right?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “Sano-
san
is here.”

Now Hirata would have to face Sano before he’d had time to think of what to say. “Could you and the children go somewhere, so we can talk in private?”

Midori looked as if she had more questions, but she took the children away. Sano’s daughter Akiko was with them. Entering his cluttered room, Hirata found Sano kneeling on the floor. Sano’s expression was a mixture of anger, worry, and distrust. He said, “Where have you been?”

Hirata knelt opposite Sano. He owed Sano an honest explanation even if it had to be incomplete. “With my friends Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sano spoke with displeasure. “I don’t suppose you did any investigation on Priest Ryuko or Minister Ogyu.”

“I can do it now,” Hirata said, eager to make up for his absence.

“Never mind,” Sano said coldly. “I’ve already taken care of it myself. What were you and your friends doing?”

A lifetime of following the samurai code of obedience compelled Hirata to answer. Fourteen years’ friendship with Sano required him to tell the truth. Tahara’s threat bound him to silence. “I can’t tell you.”

A frown deepened all the emotions on Sano’s face. “Can’t or won’t?”

Hirata was mute. He’d never felt so at odds with himself, so helpless, or so miserable.

After a long, tense pause, Sano said, “You’ve changed since you met those men.” He shifted position as if he were physically uncomfortable. “There’s something wrong, and it has to do with them. Have they gotten you in some kind of trouble?”

You can’t imagine,
Hirata thought glumly.

Sano leaned forward, his coldness warming to apprehension. “If you are in trouble, I wish you would tell me what it is so that I can help you.”

That Sano could be so generous after Hirata had let him down! He thought yearningly of the times he and Sano had faced danger together and prevailed despite odds that had seemed insurmountable. But he must not pit Sano against Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi.

“I can handle it,” Hirata said.

A sigh of exasperation gusted from Sano. He raised his empty hands, then let them fall onto his thighs with a loud clap. “If that’s the way you want it, then we need to come to an understanding.” His manner turned so ominous that Hirata felt the air between them crackle, as if lightning were about to strike. Yet he could also see that Sano hated the words he spoke next.

“I’ve been patient with your absences and your secrecy. I’ve made allowances for you that I wouldn’t make for any of my other retainers.” Sano moved again; his upper body twitched inside his clothes. “But you’ve been taking unfair advantage, and I’ve let you get away with it for too long. It has to stop. I’m ordering you to tell me what’s going on. And if you refuse, then we won’t be able to work together anymore.”

This was the moment Hirata had feared since he joined the secret society. His commitment to them had collided with his loyalty to Sano; he’d compromised the sacred bond between samurai and master, and there was only one way to mend it. The knowledge brought terror but also relief. Hirata must confess and hope that he could avert the consequences.

Before he could speak, Sano frowned, glanced down at his waist, and felt under his sash. He pulled out a small object whose edges had apparently been irritating him and causing his restless movements. It was a wooden prayer tag on a string. Hirata inhaled a sharp breath. He recognized the red sword drawn on the tag. Cold, nauseating horror gripped his stomach.