The Iris Fan (4 page)

Now the shogun noticed Sano. The pupils of his eyes were dilated by the opium; he smiled groggily, as if he’d forgotten he’d banned Sano from court and he was welcoming a dear, long-lost friend. “You stay, too, Sano-
san
.”

4

IN THE CORRIDOR
, Yanagisawa quietly asked the physician, “What’s the prognosis?”

“His Excellency may have internal hemorrhaging. His wounds may fester. There’s a danger of permanent damage to his organs—”

“Don’t tell me what might happen!” Anxiety raised Yanagisawa’s voice, and he struggled to control himself. He didn’t want Sano to hear him, guess how much he didn’t want the shogun to die, and wonder why. He couldn’t let Ienobu know how desperately afraid he was. “Tell me if he’s going to survive.”

The physician hesitated, clearly reluctant to be negative lest he bring bad luck to the shogun, yet not wanting to hold out false promise. “That he’s still alive is a good sign, but his condition is very serious.”

Dread sank Yanagisawa’s heart. If the shogun died, it would mean the end of Yanagisawa’s alliance with Lord Ienobu, the end of his ambition to rule Japan someday, the end of his life. But that wasn’t the worst. The shogun’s death would also mean the end of Yanagisawa’s hopes of saving the only person in the world he loved.

“If you’ll excuse me,” the physician said, “I must tend to my patient.”

Yanagisawa stood alone in the corridor, remembering his shock at the news he’d received the day after Yoshisato’s funeral. He’d been standing outside the palace, with the smell of smoke and burned flesh in the air, when Lord Ienobu spoke the words that turned the world upside down.

“Yoshisato is alive. He didn’t die in that fire.”

At first Yanagisawa hadn’t believed it. Then Ienobu had explained.
“I told Korika that if she set a fire that night, she wouldn’t be caught. I arranged for the castle guards to be absent from their posts. Korika went to the heir’s residence. Five of my men got there first. They killed Yoshisato’s personal bodyguards, tied up Yoshisato, and drugged him. Korika set the fire, and ran away. Before the house burned down, my men dragged the dead bodyguards inside. They killed one of their comrades and left his corpse in Yoshisato’s chamber. Then they carried Yoshisato out of the castle in a trunk.”

“Why would you save Yoshisato?” Yanagisawa demanded. “If he’s alive, he’s the shogun’s first choice for an heir.”

“I have enemies who don’t want me to be the next shogun,” Ienobu said. “I need you to help me neutralize them. When I’m shogun, you can have Yoshisato back.”

Then Lord Ienobu had produced a letter written by Yoshisato, that had demolished all Yanagisawa’s doubts about whether Ienobu was telling the truth.

“Where is he?” Yanagisawa demanded.

“In a guarded, secret place,” Ienobu said. “Breathe a word of this conversation to anyone, and you’ll never see him again.”

“I’ll kill you!”

“If anything bad happens to me, or if you refuse to support me as the next shogun, Yoshisato dies for real.”

Yanagisawa had known that Ienobu meant to string him along until Ienobu was shogun; then Ienobu would kill Yoshisato. The only way for Yanagisawa to save Yoshisato was to find him before the current shogun died and Ienobu didn’t need a hostage anymore. The only way for Yanagisawa and Yoshisato to rule Japan was to destroy Ienobu before he took over the dictatorship. For more than four years he’d been searching for Yoshisato. He had spies secretly combing Japan while he acted the role of Ienobu’s vigilant ally. He’d exiled some of Ienobu’s enemies within the government to faraway islands, demoted others or dispatched them to posts in the provinces. That had brought other men hostile to Ienobu into line. Although Yanagisawa longed to join forces with Sano to prove Ienobu was a traitor, he pretended to believe Ienobu was innocent. His son’s life depended on his charade.

But every clue to Yoshisato’s whereabouts had led to a dead end, and if the shogun died, Ienobu would become dictator. He would put Yoshisato—and Yanagisawa—to death. Panic beset Yanagisawa like a horde of shouting madmen pummeling him. How could he save Yoshisato? He might have only days, hours, or moments left in which to do it.

The instincts that had served him well during three decades in politics gave Yanagisawa the first piece of his emergency strategy: He must keep the shogun alive, keep Sano under control, and keep Ienobu from gaining any further advantage.

*   *   *

SANO KNELT ON
the left side of the bed. The shogun lay facing toward Ienobu on his right. The doctor knelt at the foot of the bed, Captain Hosono by the wall. The air still stank of blood and feces. The servants stirred the charcoal braziers set in the floor, fanning up heat to keep the shogun warm. Sano wished he could fling open the exterior doors and let in the cold, fresh wind. It might sweep the shock and confusion from his mind and help him think clearly.

The shogun trembled, then went still, then trembled, at irregular intervals. His hand clung to Lord Ienobu’s. Ienobu wore the proper, concerned expression, but Sano could almost see his ill will flowing like black poison from his heart, through a vein in his arm, and into the shogun. Sano wanted to tear their hands apart.

Yanagisawa returned, bringing two guards. He knelt beside the doctor and studied the shogun. “Why is he shaking?”

“He’s in shock,” the physician said.

“Then do something.” Yanagisawa’s concern, unlike Ienobu’s, seemed genuine.

“I gave him medicine. There’s nothing more I can do for him at present.”

“Well, I’ve arranged extra security for him.” Yanagisawa announced, “He’ll have two bodyguards, specially chosen by me, with him at all times.” He indicated the men he’d brought—loyal, trustworthy, longtime Tokugawa retainers. “No one is allowed to be alone with His Excellency.”

Although Sano knew that Yanagisawa was an expert actor, he had a strong sense that Yanagisawa truly didn’t want somebody to finish off the shogun. When Lord Ienobu bent a quizzical gaze on him, Yanagisawa responded with a bland look. Sano recognized that look; it masked all manner of evil intentions. Why were Yanagisawa and Ienobu suddenly at odds?

As if he thought his own concern for the shogun might seem lacking, Lord Ienobu said, “Is there anything you want, Uncle?”

“Yes.” The shogun’s voice was faint, sleepy, but tinged with anger. “I want to know who did this to me.”

Opportunity beckoned Sano, as clear, bright, and many-faceted as a crystal. “I’ll find out, Your Excellency.”

The shogun started to turn toward Sano. Alarm bulged Ienobu’s eyes; he gripped the shogun’s hand tighter. “No, Uncle, let me handle it.”

Sano understood why Ienobu didn’t want him to investigate the stabbing: Here was his new chance to bring Ienobu down.

“Leave us for a moment,” Yanagisawa told the physician, Captain Hosono, the guards, and the servants. He obviously didn’t want them blatting all over town about the argument that was about to begin.

Another fit of trembling seized the shogun, then subsided. Dazed from the opium, he squinted at Ienobu, then Sano.

“Lord Ienobu shouldn’t be in charge of the investigation,” Sano said.

Ienobu started to protest. Yanagisawa leaned forward; the fire in his eyes intensified. Sano recognized that look, too: Yanagisawa was scouting the situation for an advantage for himself. The shogun interrupted Ienobu. “Why not?”

Sano couldn’t say,
Because I think he sent the assassin to kill you.
He’d learned the hard way that it was dangerous to accuse the shogun’s heir of murder and treason. If he accused Lord Ienobu again, and the shogun again didn’t believe him, the result would be death for him instead of another demotion. “Because he has no experience with investigating crimes.”

Yanagisawa said, “Whereas you’ve investigated crimes for twenty years.” Although his scornful tone denigrated Sano’s expertise, he’d also pointed it up.

“That is true,” the shogun murmured.

Ienobu hurried to object. “But, Uncle, you banned Sano-
san
from court.”

“Your Excellency can bring me back,” Sano said. “It’s your prerogative to have the attempt on your life investigated by the man you’ve always trusted to solve crimes for you.”

The shogun twisted himself toward Sano. Ienobu clutched the shogun’s hand so hard that his own knuckles turned white. “Uncle, you appointed me Acting Shogun so you wouldn’t have to deal with difficult business while you’re ill.”

“Your Excellency can revoke the appointment,” Sano said.

Worry crinkled the red, measled skin on the shogun’s forehead. His eyelids drooped, then fluttered open. Where once he would have gladly let the matter be taken out of his hands so that he could sleep, now he struggled to stay awake because he wanted to make up his own mind.

“Sano-
san
and Lord Ienobu have both raised valid points, Your Excellency,” Yanagisawa said. “I suggest a compromise.”

If Sano hadn’t already suspected that something was off about Yanagisawa, these words would have alerted him as loudly as if a gong had been struck beside his ear. Compromise was an alien concept to Yanagisawa.

“What sort of compromise?” The shogun reverted to his thirty-year habit of relying on Yanagisawa’s counsel.

“Sano-
san
conducts the investigation. Lord Ienobu and I supervise.” Yanagisawa sounded as if this were the happiest, most reasonable answer. “We’ll have the benefit of his expertise while making sure he doesn’t step out of line.”

“Very well,” the shogun said with a tremulous sigh. “Nephew, let go of me, you’re crushing my fingers.”

Ienobu released the shogun. Holding his own hand in midair, afraid it was contaminated with measles, he glared at Yanagisawa. Sano saw the division between them as clearly as if it were a line drawn with the shogun’s blood.

With immense, groaning effort, the shogun turned himself on his other side and faced Sano. Sano hurried to say, “Your Excellency, in order for me to do my job properly, I must beg you to restore me to my original rank of chief investigator. And appoint my son as my assistant. And order my swords returned.”

“Done,” the shogun murmured.

Sano exhaled. In these few moments, his fortunes had reversed. His detective instincts and warrior spirit rose up in him like a rejuvenating tide. This was the most important case of his career, and the battle he’d been fighting for more than four years was shifting into a new, decisive phase. This was his chance to make things right for the regime, for his family.

Yanagisawa regarded him with opaque serenity. Ienobu gawped at him in outrage. Sano didn’t know how far he could rely on Yanagisawa; his old enemy’s motives remained a mystery. But he could count on Ienobu to retaliate.

5

SNOW FELL ON
the
banch
ō
, the district where low-ranking Tokugawa vassals resided in small estates crammed together and surrounded by live bamboo fences. The bare stalks and dried leaves rattled in the wind. At an hour past midnight, the maze of dirt roads was deserted. Nailed to a rough wooden gate at one estate was a brass medallion of a flying crane—Sano’s clan insignia. Inside the house, a girl tiptoed down the passage. She carried a candle that illuminated her round, pretty face. Her eyes had an eager glow; her soft lips smiled. A green-and-white-flowered nightdress clothed a short figure that was womanly for her fourteen years.

Taeko trembled with anticipation. She stepped carefully, avoiding the spots where the floor creaked. She mustn’t awaken the family.

A tall samurai youth dressed in a dark kimono crept around the corner. The candlelight touched his handsome, alert face. Taeko’s heart leapt. No matter that their families were old friends and they lived in the same house, the sight of Masahiro always thrilled her. She’d loved him since she’d been little and looked up to him and followed him around. Three years her senior, he’d played with her and teased her like a big brother would. Now his face lit with the same joy she felt. He grabbed her hand, blew out the candle, and pulled her into a storage room full of unused household furnishings. Taeko dropped the candle as Masahiro drew her down onto a pile of quilts spread on the floor. He shut the door while they passionately embraced.

Even though they’d been lovers since last autumn, Taeko could hardly believe this was happening. For a long time she and Masahiro had been best friends, and it had seemed he would be content with that forever—until that golden day when he’d looked at her, a new expression had come into his eyes, and it was as easy as that. Now his hands fumbled opened her robe; he caressed her breasts. Taeko cooed with delight.

“Shh!” Masahiro said.

The house was so small, any noise could wake someone. Containing her excitement, Taeko reached under Masahiro’s robe and grasped his erect penis. He stifled a moan. Taeko wished she could see him naked in the light, touch him all over his body, and admire him, but they had to make love in a hurry, under the cover of darkness. Masahiro touched her between her legs. More than ready, she flopped back on the quilts, and he climbed on her. When he entered her, they both gasped with pleasure.

The first two times, it had hurt, and she’d bled. The third time she’d experienced an incredible, wonderful feeling. Now, as Masahiro began to thrust, she held him tight while she soared toward rapture.

Masahiro started to withdraw.

“No!” she whispered, holding him tighter. “Stay!”

“I can’t hold off any longer.”

“It’s all right!”

He groaned, thrusting faster. His body tensed; he shuddered and panted. Taeko screamed as the ecstasy rocked her like waves from the sea.