The Dragon King's Palace

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Sano said, “Tell me about your relations with Police Commissioner Hoshina.”

  Naraya flinched at the sound of Hoshina’s name. His smile vanished. “You seem to already know there’s bad blood between us,” he said, and his manner turned wary. “Old news travels far. I left Miyako and so did Hoshina-san, but one can never leave the past behind.”

  “I understand that you blame Hoshina-san for the death of your daughter,” Sano said.

  The merchant hesitated. Sano sensed Naraya’s wish to avoid discussing a painful subject, his fear of how anything he said might hurt him, and his need to air an old grievance.

  Need prevailed. Naraya burst out, “It was his fault! My Emiko was my only child, and a sweet, innocent, harmless girl. Hoshina-san destroyed her for his own selfish purposes.”

  Flushed and agitated, Naraya leaned toward Sano, eager to justify his ire. “Emiko was fifteen years old. She liked nice clothes, but I couldn’t afford to buy any because I wasn’t as well off as I am now.” Regret and guilt saddened Naraya’s voice. “One day Emiko saw a pretty red kimono hanging in a shop. She went inside, grabbed it, and ran.”

  So this was the theft Hoshina had mentioned, thought Sano; not a serious crime, but a girl’s foolish impulse.

  “Emiko wasn’t a thief,” Naraya said, passionate in his conviction. “She would have soon realized she’d done wrong and returned the kimono. Unfortunately, Hoshina-san happened to come riding along the street. He saw Emiko clutching the kimono, running away. He chased her and caught her. He marched her back to the shop. The proprietor identified the stolen merchandise. Hoshina arrested Emiko and took her to jail.”

  Fury resonated in Naraya’s voice. “When I heard what had happened, I went to police headquarters. That was when I first met Hoshina-san. I tried to explain that Emiko had just made a mistake. But Hoshina-san said she was a criminal and would be sent to work as a courtesan in the pleasure quarter.”

  Forced prostitution was the usual sentence for female thieves.

  “I offered Hoshina-san a bribe to free my daughter,” said Naraya, “but he refused, even though the police usually will take bribes when the crime is minor.” Naraya glared through tears of outrage. “Later, I learned that Hoshina-san had just been promoted to the rank of commander, and he wanted to show everyone how tough he was. He wanted to make an example of Emiko, as a warning to other would-be thieves.”

  This sounded just like Hoshina, and Sano detested him all the more. Sano had already begun having second thoughts about his decision to protect his enemy. He grew less confident that forestalling Hoshina’s death would prolong Reiko’s life. Would he have done better to renege on his promise and let the shogun comply with the ransom demand? What if the investigation proved that neither Naraya nor the Kii clan had taken the women?

  “The next day, while Emiko was awaiting her trial, a fire started in the neighborhood around the jail,” Naraya said. “The warden let out the prisoners.”

  Tokugawa law decreed that when fire threatened, all prisoners should be released so that if the jail burned, they wouldn’t die—a rare example of mercy in a cruel penal system. After the danger passed, the prisoners were supposed to return voluntarily to the jail, and most did.

  “But Emiko stayed behind. After the fire was out and everyone came back to the jail . . .” Naraya puffed deep, tremulous breaths, and tears trickled down his droopy cheeks. “The warden found Emiko lying dead in a horse trough full of water. She had drowned.”

  Even while Sano pitied the man, excitement quickened his heartbeat. Naraya’s daughter had perished in the same manner as the unnamed woman in the poem in the ransom letter. Was her death the murder that had precipitated the demand for Hoshina’s execution?

  “There was no official explanation given for what happened to my daughter.” Naraya spoke with extreme rancor. “Maybe she fell in the trough. Maybe someone pushed her. But I think she drowned herself because she couldn’t bear her disgrace.”

  “And you think Police Commissioner Hoshina indirectly caused her suicide?” Sano asked, controlling his excitement.

  “If not for that scoundrel, Emiko would be alive today,” Naraya said. Animosity burned his tears dry. “I wouldn’t have lost my only child. My wife wouldn’t have died of grief seven years ago. Every day Hoshina-san lives is a big, big insult to their memory. Every day I pray for him to suffer the same agony and humiliation that we did.”

  Contrary reactions beset Sano. He had more sympathy for Naraya than respect for Hoshina, and he found himself wanting Naraya to be innocent almost as much as he wanted him to be the kidnapper. He would rather see Naraya win vengeance for his daughter than punished for the massacre and abduction.

  Naraya abruptly donned a semblance of his normal good cheer. “But the past is water under the bridge,” he said. “We must accept what fate deals us and move forward into the future.” Naraya paused, then said carefully, “May I ask what my old grudge against Hoshina-san has to do with the kidnapping of the shogun’s mother?”

  “His Excellency has received a letter from the kidnapper,” Sano said. “It demanded that Hoshina be denounced and executed as a murderer, in exchange for the return of Lady Keisho-in.”

  Naraya’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped. He looked as though he’d just swallowed a rock that had lodged in his throat. Obviously, he realized how his story had incriminated him. Then he threw back his head and burst into laughter.

  “So Hoshina-san has finally reaped his comeuppance!” Naraya exulted. “There’s justice in this world after all.” He jumped up and down in glee. “When he’s executed, I’ll be there to watch.” Delight burbled from Naraya; he rubbed his hands together, then raised them skyward. “Praise the gods for answering my prayers. Someone has brought down that villain at last!”

  “Was it you?” Doubt pierced Sano because Naraya appeared genuinely surprised by the news about the ransom demand. Could even an expert actor fake such a response? If Naraya had kidnapped the women, he should be alarmed that Sano had traced the letter to him, worried that his plot against Hoshina had failed, and afraid he would be punished for the crime, instead of rejoicing over Hoshina’s downfall.

  “I almost wish it were me,” Naraya said. “Such a clever, clever retaliation for the wrongs Hoshina-san has done.” He pumped his fists and chortled; then belated prudence sobered him as he comprehended his dangerous position. “But I didn’t kidnap those women off the Tkaid. I haven’t even left Edo in months. Ask anyone here.” He gestured toward the factory.

  But Sano knew that the workers owed Naraya their loyalty and would lie for him. “When did you learn that Lady Keisho-in was going on her trip?” Sano asked.

  “Not until the news broadsheets announced that she’d been kidnapped,” Naraya said. “I couldn’t have done it.” Sudden thought narrowed his eyes. “Besides, didn’t I hear that Lady Keisho-in’sentourage was massacred? A hundred people killed?” Naraya shook his head, deploring the carnage. “I could never, never shed blood— not even to avenge my daughter’s death. And I’m not foolish enough to commit treason just to strike back at Hoshina-san.”

  Sano thought of how Magistrate Ueda had compromised his professional honor and bent the law for Reiko’s sake. Sano knew that he himself would risk whatever danger and pay whatever price necessary to punish anyone who hurt Masahiro. Paternal devotion was stronger than prudence, and Naraya’s denials didn’t convince Sano.

  “Maybe you wouldn’t kill or kidnap with your own hands,” Sano said. “But you wouldn’t have needed to leave Edo or do your own dirty work.”

  Naraya snorted in disdain. “I don’t have the men or the money to carry off an ambush like that.”

  Yet although Sano knew that hired muscle came cheap, and Naraya could afford it, he wondered whether Edo ruffians could have so easily slain Tokugawa troops. Sano’s misgivings about Naraya’s guilt increased. Shifting course, he said, “When did you move to Edo?”

  The merchant blinked, disconcerted by t
he abrupt change of subject. “Two years ago,” he said.

  “Your family ran the business in Miyako for many generations. Why did you relocate it here?”

  “Competition was tougher every year,” Naraya said, and Sano watched him squint as he tried to figure out the point of the questions. “Business is much, much better in Edo.”

  “Your decision had nothing to do with the fact that Hoshina-san had moved here the year before?” Sano said.

  “No.” The merchant frowned in perplexity, then acquired an owlish look of wisdom. Pointing a finger at Sano, he said, “You think I followed Hoshina-san. You think I came to Edo to do him harm. But I didn’t. The day I heard he’d left Miyako, I celebrated because he wouldn’t foul the place anymore. If there were any other city as big as Edo, I’d have gone there instead, so I wouldn’t have to breathe the same air as him.”

  Suddenly Sano lost all tolerance for restrained, deliberate interrogation. His urgent need to solve the case, save Reiko, and avoid execution flared up in him. He grabbed Naraya by the front of his kimono.

  “No more denials!” he shouted at the merchant. “If you kidnapped the women, you’d better tell me!”

  Startled, Naraya inhaled a loud gulp of breath. Fright widened his eyes. “I didn’t,” he protested.

  If there was any chance that he was the Dragon King, Sano wasn’t going to let Naraya dupe him. He slammed the merchant against the building and yelled, “Don’t lie to me!”

  “It’s the honest truth,” Naraya said. “I didn’t kidnap anybody. I swear on my ancestors’ honor.”

  “What have you done with my wife?” Though Sano hated resorting to brute force, he had two choices: He could be nice to the merchant and leave empty-handed, or pressure Naraya and perhaps elicit the facts he sought. Sano shook Naraya back and forth. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know!” Naraya’s head thumped on the wall. “Please, let me go. You’re hurting me.”

  “Talk, and I’ll stop.” Sano shook him harder and faster.

  The merchant grabbed Sano’s hands and tried in vain to pry them off him. His feet kicked Sano’s shins. “Help! Help!” he screamed.

  “Tell me!” Sano ordered.

  Workers rushed out of the factory, armed with paddles, clubs, and iron shovels, ready to defend Naraya. The detectives drew their swords.

  “I’m innocent,” Naraya cried. “Torture me until I confess, then kill me—but it won’t bring back the women, because I didn’t take them. I don’t know where they are!”

  Sano saw Naraya’s terrified face, and a brawl impending. He realized he’d gone too far. Beating Naraya’s head to a pulp would do Reiko no good, even if Naraya was the Dragon King. Sano released his hold on Naraya. The merchant sat down hard on the filthy ground.

  “Go back to your business,” Sano told the workmen.

  They obeyed; the detectives sheathed their blades. Sano leaned against the wall, spent by his violent impulse and horrified that his life seemed a nightmare in which he must start and restart this investigation for all eternity, and never find Reiko. He looked at the suspect he’d almost killed. Naraya reclined with eyes closed and limbs splayed, moaning. Blood from his head smeared the wall.

  “Are you all right?” Sano said, fearful that he’d beaten Naraya senseless.

  Naraya opened his eyes. “No thanks to you,” he said, and cracked a weak smile. “But no hard feelings. I understand that you’re very, very upset, because I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. And I really want to help you.” With a pained grunt, he stood up and said timidly, “May I make a suggestion?”

  Drained ofenergy for more verbal combat, Sano said, “Go ahead.” His hope that Naraya was the Dragon King had diminished so much that he needed all the advice he could get—even from a suspect.

  “If you really want to find the kidnapper,” Naraya said, “you should forget me and look into other people Hoshina-san hurt. He made himself very, very unpopular around Miyako. Maybe his other old enemies came here after his blood. Maybe they took the shogun’s mother.”

  “Maybe you’re just trying to cover your own crimes by diverting suspicion elsewhere.” Sano spoke with scorn, although he recognized that unless he found evidence against Naraya, he would have to do as the merchant suggested.

  “I’m just trying to do the shogun a favor and keep you from making a big mistake,” Naraya said. “May I tell you where else I think you should be looking for the kidnapper?”

  Sano’s silence indicated assent.

  “Inside the Black Lotus,” Naraya said.

  “The Black Lotus?” Sano frowned, startled that the sect should crop up after the investigation had turned away from it. He regarded Naraya with skepticism, wondering if the merchant was just directing blame toward the notorious scourge. “Why do you say that?”

  Naraya looked around, as if fearful of eavesdroppers. He spoke in a low, confidential tone: “I’ve heard that the police are very, very rough on the Black Lotus folks they arrest. Hoshina-san has his own secret jail where he and his men torture them into informing on their comrades. While he asks them questions, his men drip molten copper into their eyes. They all talk, eventually.”

  The news disturbed Sano. Although he abhorred the Black Lotus, he disapproved of torture, and he was finding more to dislike about the man he’d obligated himself to save. And he couldn’t dismiss Naraya’s story as mere rumor. The police had lately made a large number of Black Lotus arrests. If those stemmed from a personal crusade headed by Hoshina, then he’d been responsible for executions that the Black Lotus would view as murder.

  “The Black Lotus has as much reason to want revenge on Hoshina-san as I do,” Naraya said. “Besides, it has many, many crazy people who would slaughter a Tokugawa procession and kidnap the shogun’s mother if their priests ordered them.” Naraya echoed the reasoning that had initially caused Sano to suspect the Black Lotus.

  Yet Sano warned himself against reverting to his original theory. Even if the Black Lotus priests did want Hoshina dead, they would more likely assassinate him—as they’d done other foes—than concoct the kidnapping plot. They would know that eliminating Hoshina wouldn’t end their persecution by the bakufu. Sano also thought other elements of the crime didn’t fit the Black Lotus. The ransom letter bespoke a personal attack against Hoshina, not religious warfare. The poem didn’t sound like Black Lotus scripture, which derived from ancient Buddhist texts, not dragon legend.

  Furthermore, a good detective wouldn’t let a suspect influence his judgment.

  “After your daughter died, you told Hoshina-san that you would make him pay,” Sano reminded Naraya.

  The merchant grimaced in annoyance. “Is that what he told you? Well, I suppose he’s so desperate that he’ll say anything to help himself. Or maybe my daughter’s death meant so little to him that he’s forgotten what went on between us. But my memory is as clear as if it happened yesterday. This is what I said to Hoshina-san: ‘Someday you’ll suffer for what you did to my daughter. You can’t escape the bad karma you’ve created. Someday the wheel of fate that crushed my daughter will crush you.’ “

  Exultation shone through Naraya’s fear. “And it looks as though my prediction is going to come true.”

  Repeated interrogation of Naraya proved futile because Naraya only reiterated his protests of innocence. At last, Sano and his detectives left the factory and gathered outside by their horses. The afternoon sunlight glared dully on the canal; boatmen shouted curses; a beggar limped along the dusty road, empty bowl in hand.

  “Keep a secret watch on Naraya,” Sano told two of his men. “Follow him wherever he goes. Maybe he’ll do something to show he’s the kidnapper and lead us to the women.”

  “Yes, ssakan-sama,” chorused the detectives.

  But Sano feared Naraya was another dead end on another hunt in the wrong direction. He regretted all the more his decision to prevent Hoshina’s execution and give up a chance to save Reiko. He wondered how Chamberlain Ya
nagisawa fared with the Kii clan and he hoped for better results than Naraya had produced, because otherwise they were out of luck.

  As he mounted his horse, sudden recollection buoyed Sano’s mood. There was one more potential lead to the Dragon King, overlooked in the commotion generated by the ransom letter.

  “We’re going back to Edo Castle,” Sano said. Slapping the reins, he galloped down the street, while his two detectives hurried to catch up with him.

  17

  The storm on the island diminished to a light rain that dripped through the roof of the ruined keep. Inside, amid the puddles and dank gloom, Reiko, Midori, Lady Yanagisawa, and Keisho-in sat clustered together and watched the door creak open. The fierce samurai who had almost ravished Reiko strode into their prison. After him came two younger samurai whose threadbare clothes and surly air branded them as rMnin.

  “You,” the fierce samurai said, jabbing a finger at Reiko. “Come with us.”

  Alarm struck Reiko. “What for?” Her voice shook with the fear that sickened her heart.

  During the hours that had passed since the kidnappers had captured her outside the castle, she’d had little to occupy her except trying to predict what they would do to her and the other women. Common sense told her that the kidnappers couldn’t just keep them here like this forever. The leader she’d met must have another purpose. Reiko’s instincts warned that something worse would happen. Now it seemed the time had come.

  “Don’t talk back,” the fierce samurai ordered. His scowl deepened. “Just do as you’re told.”

  Midori whimpered; Lady Yanagisawa emitted an ululating groan like a cat’s growl. Reiko felt them clutch her hands, trying to prevent her departure.

  “She’s not going,” Keisho-in said with panicky bravado. “Get out. Leave us alone.”

  The samurai sneered, then nodded to his comrades. They seized Reiko and tore her from her friends’ grasp.