The Assassin's Touch

by Laura Joh Rowland

  The ceremony drew to a slow, solemn end. The music ceased; the priests departed. Members of the procession lingered around the shrine, clustering in small groups, conversing in low voices. General Isogai approached Sano and said, “Congratulations on your victory.”

  “Many thanks,” Sano said.

  “I must apologize for the disgraceful behavior of my troops.” Mortification subdued General Isogai’s jovial manner. “As soon as I round up the deserters, they’ll be forced to commit seppuku.”

  “Perhaps that’s too severe a punishment, especially under the unusual circumstances,” Sano said. “They were good, brave soldiers. The Ghost drove them out of their minds.” He’d forgiven Marume and Fukida for leaving him. He’d also forbidden them to commit ritual suicide even though they’d pleaded to atone for their disgrace. “I don’t want more lives lost on his account. And we need those men.”

  General Isogai looked unconvinced, stubborn. “I have to uphold discipline. Seppuku is the standard punishment for desertion. Making exceptions will weaken the moral character of the army. Can’t have that. But if you order me to spare the deserters .. . ?”

  Sano entertained the idea for a mere moment before he reluctantly said, “No.” Although he had the power to command whatever he wished, he was as bound by the samurai code of honor as General Isogai. Bending the code would not only violate his principles but leave him open to attack. “Do as we must.” Yet the impending deaths of the deserters sat as badly in his mind as the deaths of the troops slain by Kobori.

  As General Isogai moved away, Yoritomo hurried up to Sano. “Please allow me to express how thrilled I am that you defeated the Ghost.” Yoritomo’s eyes shone with admiration.

  The shogun joined them. “Ahh, Sano-san. You’ve saved us all from the Ghost. I feel much better now.” He sighed and fanned himself. Then his eyes widened in horror as he took a closer look at Sano. “My, but you look awful. Those bruises all over your face! The sight of them makes me ill. I order you to, ahh, wear makeup to cover them.”

  Sano had thought that nothing the shogun said could surprise him anymore. “Yes, Your Excellency.”

  “Come along, Yoritomo.” The shogun bustled away as if he thought Sano’s injuries were contagious. Yoritomo gave Sano a look of apology.

  Lord Matsudaira strode up to Sano. “Honorable Chamberlain. It’s good to see you on your feet.”

  “It’s good to see you.” Still on yours, Sano added silently.

  During the four days Sano had been absent from court, Lord Matsudaira appeared to have consolidated his position.

  Lord Matsudaira raised his eyebrows and nodded in satisfaction as he read Sano’s thoughts. He looked calmer, more secure, now that his new regime was no longer threatened by an assassin. “Certain problems are much less trouble than they were a few days ago.” He glanced at Elders Kato and Ihara, who stood with a few of their cronies. They eyed him with resentment. “If certain people wish to attack me, they’ll have to do it themselves instead of relying on Kobori. Besides, I’ve won a few new allies, while they’ve lost a lot of ground, because you eliminated him. Good work, Sano-san.”

  Sano bowed, acknowledging the praise yet finding it distasteful. Seventy-four men were dead, and he’d almost sacrificed his own life, but all Lord Matsudaira cared about was that the destruction of the Ghost had shored up his regime.

  “But don’t get too complacent,” Lord Matsudaira warned him. “There are still many opportunities for you to take a wrong step. And there are just as many men who are eager to take your place if you do.”

  Before he slipped away, his gaze directed Sano’s attention across the shrine precinct. Police Commissioner Hoshina loitered on the fringe of a crowd around the shogun. Ire enflamed his features as he started toward Sano. Before Hoshina reached him, Sano was surrounded by officials who greeted him, inquired about his health, and welcomed him back to court. Some of them were men Hoshina had enlisted in his bid for power. Sano could tell how eager they were to make up for shunning him when his position was in jeopardy, how worried that he would hold their disloyalty against them. Obviously, Hoshina’s campaign against him had fizzled.

  Hoshina elbowed his way through the crowd. He paused beside Sano long enough to murmur, “You win this time. But you haven’t seen the end of me.” Then he stalked away.

  Sano felt the world settle into its familiar, precarious balance. Earth tremors vibrated his feet. He pictured cracks branching underground, toward his home, where he’d noticed that Reiko seemed troubled and distant. She hadn’t confided in him, and he’d sensed she hadn’t wanted to burden him with problems during his convalescence, but he knew she was upset about the way her investigation had turned out. Sano felt a sudden, pressing need to talk to her, before his whirlwind of business reclaimed him.

  “Excuse me,” he said to the officials. He signaled Detectives Marume and Fukida, who cleared his path toward the gate.

  Storm clouds massed above the pines that shaded a cemetery in the Zojo Temple district. Rows of stone pillars marked graves adorned with portraits of the deceased and offerings of flowers and food. The cemetery was deserted except for a small party gathered around a bare plot of land.

  Reiko, Lieutenant Asukai, and her other guards watched a laborer dig a new grave. His shovel upturned soil dark and damp from the rainy season that had come early this year. The fresh scents of earth and pine did nothing to soothe the grief that consumed Reiko.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. The gravedigger finished his work. Reiko stooped and hefted a lidded black ceramic urn sitting beside the grave, which contained Tama’s ashes. She gently lowered the urn into the hole. She knelt, bowed her head, and murmured a prayer for the girl’s spirit. “May you be reborn into a better life than the one you left.”

  Her escorts waited silent and somber. Reiko whispered into the grave, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

  She rose, and the gravedigger filled the hole, tamped down the dirt, and left. Lieutenant Asukai positioned the stone grave-marker that bore Tama’s name. Reiko laid before it the rice cake, the sake decanter, and the bouquet of flowers she’d brought. Rain pelted the cemetery. Lieutenant Asukai opened an umbrella over Reiko’s head and gave it to her. Reiko lingered, reluctant to depart. She’d never expected to mourn so keenly for someone she’d known such a short time. How strange that the death of a virtual stranger could alter one’s life.

  She heard hoof beats outside the cemetery. Looking up, she saw Sano enter the gate, followed by Detectives Marume and Fukida. Sano came to stand beside her at the grave while the detectives joined her escorts under the pines. The rain gushed down, drenching the grave and offerings. Reiko took meager comfort from Sano, pressed close against her, in the scant dry haven under her umbrella.

  “The servants told me I’d find you here.” Sano regarded her with concern. “What’s going on?”

  “I just buried Tama’s ashes. There wasn’t anyone else to do it.” Reiko explained, “I went to the house where she worked to ask if she had any relatives. Her employers said she didn’t. And they weren’t interested in what happened to her body. So I held a funeral for her the day after she died. No one came except my father.” Reiko felt sad for Tama, who’d been so alone in the world, and Magistrate Ueda, who had his own regrets about how Yugao’s murder case had turned out. “And there was no one to give Tama a proper grave except me.”

  Sano nodded in approval. “That was good of you.”

  “It’s nowhere near enough to do for her.” Guilt plagued Reiko. “You tried to warn me that power is dangerous. You said that things we do with it might seem good at the time, but they can have bad consequences. Well, you were right. I abused my power and I did terrible harm to an innocent girl”

  “It was Tama herself who gave away the fact that she knew too much for Yugao’s good,” Sano pointed out. “If she’d kept quiet, Yugao would have let her go back to town, before I brought the army.”

  “Tama couldn’t have been expe
cted to know what or what not to say,” Reiko said. “She was just a simple peasant— whereas I should have anticipated all the risks.”

  “You couldn’t have known what would happen. The fire that got Yugao out of jail was an unforeseeable circumstance.” Reiko was grateful to him because he didn’t heap more recriminations on her for disregarding his advice, but she couldn’t absolve herself. “You warned me that something I didn’t expect could happen. I didn’t listen.”

  “Plenty of good came out of your investigation as well,” Sano reminded her. “If you hadn’t delayed Yugao’s execution—and she hadn’t escaped from jail—I might still be searching for Kobori. He might still be assassinating people.”

  “Maybe. But how can we know? All I’m certain of is that if I hadn’t kept Yugao alive, she couldn’t have killed Tama.” “You did die best you could to save her. You risked your own life.”

  “I failed. I’m alive. Tama is dead.” Now Reiko acknowledged the problem that bothered her the most. “And I didn’t take on the investigation just because I wanted to discover the truth or serve justice. I was hankering for adventure. I found it. Tama paid the price.”

  Sano’s expression grew troubled; Reiko saw that her words had touched a nerve in him. “You’re not the only one who’s ever had selfish personal motives. When Lord Matsudaira ordered me to catch the assassin, I was glad to get out of my boring duties. I wanted adventure as much as you did.”

  “But you had orders,” Reiko said, able to justify his behavior although not her own. “You wanted to save lives and punish a murderer.”

  ’True, but I also wanted to save my own position, which I would have lost if I’d failed. My own honor was at stake. And you’re not the only one whose investigation went wrong.” Pain etched Sano’s bruised face. “I led an army on what turned out to be a suicide mission.”

  “That’s a different situation,” Reiko protested. ’Those troops were samurai. Fighting that battle was their duty.” “They’re just as dead as Tama is,” Sano said. “And I’m alive.”

  They stood joined together by the sobering fact that they had survived while those who’d served them had not, that their lives were a burden as much as a blessing from the gods. The rain streamed down, obscuring the graves; water puddled the cemetery.

  “What are we going to do now?” Reiko asked.

  “We can make up for what happened.”

  Atonement seemed impossible, yet the idea of striving for it had a certain desolate appeal for Reiko. “I’ll quit investigating crimes,” she vowed. “I’ll put myself under house arrest so I can’t ever bring harm to anyone again.” But her spirit died even as she spoke. That she should bury all her skill, experience, and ardor along with Tama’s ashes! She told herself that it was a small price to pay.

  “I don’t have the luxury of withdrawing from the world,” Sano said ruefully. “I’ve still got my duties to fulfill. I can’t stop using my power. I can’t stop making judgments even though they might prove to be faulty.” He paused, deep in thought. “And I still want a chance at doing good, at using my power and position to serve honor.” Determination and hope strengthened his voice. “That much hasn’t changed.”

  That hadn’t changed for Reiko, either. “But if we do act, how can we be sure that things won’t go wrong again?”

  “We can’t. Power doesn’t exempt us from bad luck and mistakes, obviously. All we can know is that our power makes the consequences of our actions most extreme.”

  Sano sounded tentative, as though he was working out the issues himself. “But too much caution is as bad as not enough, and inaction can be worse than action. If I hadn’t gone after Kobori, he might have gone on killing, Lord Matsudaira’s regime might have weakened, and Japan might have been torn apart by civil war. If you hadn’t gotten involved with Yugao, I might never have caught him. Events are connected in mysterious ways. I can’t help thinking that these were meant to happen the way they did, that we were meant to do as we did and not otherwise. I can’t help believing that we survived for a purpose.”

  Reiko was skeptical, but she yearned to believe it, too. “What purpose?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe if we rise to the challenges that come our way in the future, they’ll lead us to our destiny.”

  Reiko smiled with wistful amusement. “I always imagined that my destiny would be revealed to me by celestial apparitions or weird visions.”

  Sano chuckled. “I doubt that we get to choose how our destiny is revealed any more than we get to choose what it is. The gods might not think we’re worth putting on such a spectacular drama.”

  Their shared humor warmed Reiko. She began to believe that her life had been spared for a purpose and she would have an opportunity to do better the next time. She hoped that when the challenges came, she and Sano would be ready to meet them.

  He gazed around the wet, forlorn cemetery. “Somehow I don’t think we’ll find our destiny here. We should be getting back to Edo Castle.”

  She nodded. Together they left Tama’s grave. The rain continued pouring down, and they were both drenched, their umbrella inadequate protection. Yet a faint luminescence shone in the distant sky even while the thunder boomed and the earth trembled.

  Read on for an excerpt

  from Laura Joh Rowland’s next bookead on for an excerpt rrom Laura Jon Rowlana s next book

  Red Chrysanthemum

  Available in naracover rrom St. Martin’s Minotaur

  Thunder rumbled in the summer dawn. Storm clouds absorbed the light breaking above the hills outside Edo, while ashes drifted upon smoke from a fire during the night. Up a broad avenue in the daimyo district, where the feudal lords had their city estates, rode a squadron of samurai. Their horses’ hooves clattered, disturbing the quiet; their lanterns flickered in the humid air. Night watchmen, slouching against the high stone walls that lined the street, jerked to attention, surprised by the sudden excitement at the end of a long, uneventful shift. Windows opened in the barracks that topped the walls; sleepy, curious soldiers peered out as the squadron halted outside the gate of Lord Mori, daimyo of Suwo and Nagato provinces.

  Hirata dismounted, strode up to the soldiers guarding the portals, and said, “I’m here to raid this estate. Let us in.”

  Resentment evident in their faces, the guards swung open the gates. They’d spied the triple-hollyhock-leaf crests, symbol of the ruling Tokugawa regime, that Hirata and his men wore on their armor tunics. Even the powerful provincial lords must bow to Tokugawa authority. And they recognized Hirata as the shogun’s sosakan-sama—Most Honorable Investigator of Events, Situations, and People. They dared not disobey him.

  As Hirata invaded the estate with the hundred men of his detective corps, he walked with a limp from a serious injury that had healed but still caused him pain. Yet he kept up a quick pace at the head of his troops. Cries of confusion erupted as Lord Mori’s troops swarmed the courtyard.

  “Round everybody up,” Hirata ordered his men. “No one leaves or enters the estate until we’re done. Search this whole place. You know what to look for.”

  The detectives hastened to comply. Shouting, defiance, and tussles met them. Hirata, accompanied by a team of troops and his two principal retainers, Detectives Inoue and Arai, marched through the inner gate. Across a formal garden of rocks and twisted shrubs loomed the daimyo’s mansion, a large, half-timbered structure with multiple wings and peaked tile roofs, mounted on a granite foundation. A samurai bustled out the door and rushed down the stone path to meet Hirata.

  “I’m Akera Kanko, chief retainer to Lord Mori.” He was some fifty years of age, pompous and stout. “Why are you intruding on my master?”

  “He’s under investigation for treason,” Hirata said as he and his men advanced on the mansion. “I’m going to inspect his premises and interrogate everybody here.”

  “Treason?” Akera huffed in outrage; he ran to keep up with Hirata. “With all due respect, but Lord Mori is no traitor. He’s a loyal subject
of the shogun and an ally of his honorable cousin Lord Matsudaira.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Hirata said.

  Several months of investigation had convinced him that Lord Mori was conspiring against Lord Matsudaira, who ruled Japan through the shogun. During the three years since he’d seized power after a war with an opposing faction, Lord Matsudaira had evolved from a just, reasonable man to a tyrant fearful of losing his position. He’d demoted and banished officials he didn’t trust, and subjected the daimyo to strict supervision and harsh fines for perceived offenses. This had spawned widespread disgruntlement and many plots to overthrow him.

  Hirata mounted the stairs with growing excitement. Today he would find proof of the conspiracy. His investigation would end with the arrest, conviction, and ritual suicide of a traitor. Hirata would serve his honor by defending his superior at a time when his honor badly needed serving and his reputation with Lord Matsudaira and the shogun could use some improvement. He was thirty-one years old, with a career as a police officer behind him and three years in this post, and he should have been able to stay out of trouble, but it seemed he never could.

  Now Akera looked terrified. Everyone knew that the penalty for treason was death, and not just for the traitor, but for all his family and close associates. “There must be a mistake!”

  “Where is Lord Mori?” Hirata asked.

  “In his private chambers,” Akera said.