The Snow Empress

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Visibly angry himself now, and stung by her rebuke, Sano said, “I agree that was the worst mistake in my life, even though it seemed like a good idea at the time.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “What is it about this place? Good ideas always turn out wrong here.” He rubbed his eyes. “I wish I’d never found that despicable diary or confronted Lord Matsumae with it.”

  His self-reproach pained Reiko, but she took a mean pleasure in hurting him. “You’re always so concerned about justice. What about justice for your son? What about your samurai duty to avenge him? If you cared, you’d find a way.”

  “Shut up!” Sano exclaimed. Making an effort to calm himself, he put his hands on her shoulders and deliberately lowered his voice: “I know how upset you are, but don’t take it out on me.”

  Reiko lost her own self-control. “Let me go!” She fought Sano, hitting him, savage with grief and fury. Part of her dimly realized that this was how Lord Matsumae must have felt when Tekare had died. Now she was going mad, too.

  “Stop that,” Sano ordered, as he struggled to restrain her, “before you hurt yourself. Don’t let this turn us against each other.”

  But Reiko fought harder, sobbing wildly. The precious, beloved fruit of their union was gone, and so was their love for each other. Their marriage had died with their son.

  “We have to stick together,” Sano persisted. “We have to live through this.”

  “Why?” Reiko cried. She welcomed death, which would end the suffering.

  “Because we have another child at home.” Sano’s voice was intense with urgency. “In case you’ve forgotten Akiko.”

  Reiko almost had. Masahiro’s death had left her few thoughts to spare for Akiko. But now the mention of her daughter silenced Reiko like a stab to the heart. Akiko didn’t compensate her for the loss of her firstborn, but Reiko suddenly longed for the baby she’d left behind in Edo. She realized with a shock that the situation was even worse than she’d imagined.

  Gazing up at Sano in horror, she whispered, “We’re never getting out of here, are we? We’ll never see Akiko again.”

  “Don’t say that,” Sano said, equally horrified and afraid that her prediction could make itself come true.

  She could see in his eyes that he didn’t have much faith in their ever returning home, either. “Gizaemon isn’t going to honor Lord Matsumae’s promise to set us free if you find the killer. He won’t let us go back to Edo and tell tales about what’s happened here. As far as he’s concerned, we’re better off dead. It’s just a matter of time before he figures that out.”

  Sano was silent. A deep frown of despair carved his brow. Reiko sat with him amid the wreckage of their life, their marriage, their family. Outside, war drums boomed. Cheers rose from soldiers drunk on wine, celebrating today’s massacre, rallying for battle. The sounds reminded Reiko that she and Sano and their comrades weren’t the only ones doomed. The natives were about to lose their lives, their society, their existence as a people. There seemed nothing she or Sano could do to save them, either.

  Then Sano spoke in a voice hushed with enlightenment: “If all is lost, we have nothing left to lose.” His face wore an expression Reiko had never seen before. It was ravaged yet strong, bleakly resigned to defeat yet luminous with purpose. “If our hours are numbered, then let’s make the most of them.”

  Reiko imagined that this was how a samurai looked when embarking on a mission bound to end in his death. She sensed a fervor in Sano, a contagious energy. Her spirits rose in spite of herself. “By doing what?”

  “What you said we should. Avenging our son’s death.”

  Reiko felt a spark of the ardor she’d once felt toward her husband. Even though they were fated to die, there was something left between them. Suddenly breathless with anticipation, she said, “How?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Sano’s tone was without fear or lack of confidence. “But I swear on my ancestors’ honor that I’ll right all the wrongs that have been done here in Ezogashima. I’ll think of a way before this night is over.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  After an eternal night, the sun thrust up from behind the hills above Fukuyama City, round and glowing red in the pale sky, crossed by wisps of violet cloud, like a giant battle standard. Outside the castle, the heads of the massacred natives stood frozen on their pikes. Inside, a bonfire in the main courtyard had burned down to smoking ashes. The barracks were filled with soldiers sleeping off last night’s revelry. All was quiet as Ezogashima poised on the brink of war.

  Inside the guest quarters, Hirata crept through the silent darkness that immersed the building. His trained senses compensated for his lack of eyesight. The faint sound of his own breathing echoed off the walls, forming an auditory picture of the empty corridor. He moved soundlessly down it. Pausing outside the room where the guards were, he felt their heartbeats, a slow, steady pulsation that meant they’d fallen asleep on their watch. They hadn’t overheard the whispered conversation that had gone on between Sano, Hirata, Reiko, and the detectives all night. They were sitting ducks.

  Hirata eased their door open. Smoky heat wafted from charcoal braziers. He felt rather than saw the four human figures curled motionless on the floor. Hirata tiptoed over to each man, pressed a finger against his neck, and delivered a burst of energy. The sleeping men fell into deeper slumber. Their pulses slowed to the minimum required to pump blood through their bodies. They would stay unconscious for several hours. Hirata took their swords, a long and a short from each man, then hurried back to the room where his comrades waited.

  “First mission accomplished,” Hirata said, and passed out the weapons.

  Sano, Marume, and Fukida drew the long swords from the scabbards and examined the blades by the light of the oil lamp. “Good enough,” Marume said.

  “Thieves can’t be choosers,” Fukida said.

  Reiko held out her palms to Hirata. He laid a dagger across them. Her face was solemn and fierce. A chill ran through him. He’d seen that look before, on samurai who’d come to Edo Castle to register vendettas against their foes. But he’d never before seen it on a woman.

  The detectives headed out of the room; the Rat reluctantly followed. Hirata, Sano, and Reiko lingered. Sano bowed to Hirata and said, “A million thanks for your faithful service.”

  The words had a gravity that said he meant his thanks not just for now, but for all the years they’d been master and retainer. He had spoken them because he might not have a chance later.

  “It was nothing,” Hirata insisted with a vehemence that said they wouldn’t fail in their mission, wouldn’t die and never talk again. A lump formed in his throat. Unable to look at Sano or Reiko, he bowed and walked out to meet the destiny he’d come seeking in Ezogashima.

  Reiko and Sano were alone for what might have been the last time. Sano said, “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I must,” Reiko said.

  She saw him studying her for signs of fear, but she felt none. Her spirit had moved beyond fear and grief to a place of still, perfect calmness. Her body was a tool for revenge, her sense of purpose untouched by emotions.

  “Don’t go alone,” Sano said with pleading urgency.

  “It’s what we decided.” Rather, Reiko had decided, against his strenuous objections. Her voice was even, untroubled. She knew she would succeed in the mission she’d charted for herself. She didn’t care what happened to her as a result.

  “Come with me,” Sano said. “We’ve always worked well together.” His words alluded to the crimes they’d solved in the past, the dangers they’d faced and surmounted, the whole history of their unconventional marriage.

  “We’ve also worked well separately.”

  “I remember the times you struck out on your own, and I worried about whether you would come back to me safely.”

  Those times merged with this instant. Even as Sano was ready to object again, Reiko said, “You have your task. I have mine. This is how it must be.”

 
Sano inclined his head, conceding. “Reiko-san…” He sought words to express his love for her, to commemorate their marriage in the brief time they had left.

  Reiko placed a finger on his lips to silence him. She could not let him revive her emotions. She needed all her strength and concentration for the challenges ahead.

  Sano caught her hand. “We may not have another chance.”

  “We will,” Reiko said with sublime confidence.

  Even if they didn’t survive this day, they would see each other again—when death reunited them and Masahiro. Then they would have an eternity to say all the things they hadn’t gotten to say while alive.

  “Then I suppose we’re ready to go.” Sano’s voice was resigned, but strong with his own sense of purpose.

  They joined their comrades in the entryway. Hirata opened the door. The ruddy dawn illuminated their alert, serious faces. Reiko spared a thought for the years that they’d worked together, which ended now. Hirata listened a moment, then said, “All clear.”

  One by one they exited the building. They silently fanned out in separate directions, Sano joined with Marume, Fukida, and the Rat, while Hirata and Reiko each went alone, across snow that the rising sun stained red as blood.

  The castle awakened. The intoxicating breath of war pervaded the air, rousing the soldiers from their drunken stupor. As they hurried about, hauling weapons and provisions, they sparred and joked with one another. The palace was battle headquarters. Commanders streamed in and out, gave orders to troops. Busy with preparations for their raid on the nearest Ainu villages, they didn’t realize they were under surveillance.

  Sano, Marume, Fukida, and the Rat crouched behind a stone lantern. As they watched the activity at the palace, Marume said in a low voice, “Too many troops around Lord Matsumae.”

  “It’ll be hard to get close enough to kill him,” Fukida said.

  “Let’s forget it, then,” whimpered the Rat.

  But Sano had confidence born of sheer determination. “One or another of us will manage.”

  The last phase of his plan called for slaying Lord Matsumae as his punishment for Masahiro’s death. Sano, Marume, Fukida, Hirata, and Reiko would attempt that, after they’d completed their initial tasks.

  “Which of us do you think it will be? I’m taking bets.” Marume spoke with great joviality. They were all aware that they would be captured and killed sooner rather than later, and he’d decided to enjoy the rest of his life.

  Sano knew that Hirata, with his secret martial arts skills, would make a formidable assassin. So would Sano, Marume, and Fukida, now that they’d cast off the constraints of duty and turned renegade. As for Reiko, not even the gods could stand between her and the man she blamed for her son’s death.

  “Even odds,” Sano said. “But first things first.”

  He had to find out who’d killed Tekare and set off the chain of events that had led up to this moment. Then he would slay the murderer. If it turned out to be Lord Matsumae—as he believed—that would simplify his task. His favorite suspects were off-limits, but one branch of the investigation remained open to him: Lilac’s murder.

  He, Marume, Fukida, and the Rat stealthily made their way across the castle grounds. They tried to stay behind rocks, trees, and buildings, but they couldn’t avoid all the open spaces in view of the watch turrets. Once they heard footsteps coming down a passage and ducked out a gate just before troops passed them. Fortunately, the soldiers were too busy with their war preparations to notice anyone around who didn’t belong there. Sano and his comrades arrived outside the maids’ barracks attached to the women’s quarters. They took shelter behind a snow-covered bush to assess the situation.

  Maids came outside, draped bedding over the veranda railings to air, and emptied chamber pots into night-soil buckets. The war hadn’t affected their daily routine.

  “Someone’s going to see us,” the Rat whispered. “Let’s go back to our rooms now, and maybe everything will be all right.”

  “If you want to go back, then go by yourself,” Marume said. “Otherwise, shut up.”

  Too big a coward to leave on his own, the Rat moaned as he followed the other men up to the barracks and in through the door. In a large space divided by bamboo screens, some fifty women were dressing, chattering, washing their faces, and combing their hair. When they saw the men, they shrieked and hurried to cover themselves.

  “It’s all right,” Sano said, alarmed because the commotion could bring the guards running. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

  They kept shrieking so loud that the Rat stuck his fingers in his ears. They rushed to hide, knocking over screens, spilling water basins. Marume drew his sword.

  “Shut up!” he ordered. “Nobody move!”

  Young and old, plain and pretty, the women fell to their knees, clinging to one another in terrified silence. Sano said, “Who killed Lilac? Does anybody know?” Nobody answered. When he looked at the women one at a time, they averted their gazes and shook their heads. He couldn’t tell if they really didn’t know anything or were just too intimidated to talk. “Which of you was closest with Lilac?”

  He heard nothing except their rapid breathing. The room stank of feminine sweat. Marume ordered, “Speak up!”

  A low, frantic murmur swept through the maids. They pushed forward an older woman, her thin hair streaked with gray, her full cheeks red and mottled like an apple. She looked as frightened as her companions, but she spoke boldly for them.

  “Lilac kept to herself. She thought she was too good to be friends with us.”

  That fit what Reiko had said about Lilac, the girl with big dreams. Sano persisted, “Had she talked to anybody in the few days before she died?”

  “Probably Lady Matsumae. Or the soldiers.” Disgust tinged the woman’s voice as she added, “People she thought could do something for her.”

  “Did she say anything at all to you or the other maids?”

  The woman looked around the room. Her companions all shook their heads, except for one, a husky girl with a strong-featured face, who looked as if she had native blood. She whispered to the older woman, who told Sano, “Lilac said she was working on something big. She’d found someone to take her to Edo.”

  It could have been Reiko, but maybe another person—her killer. Sano asked, “Did she say who?”

  The woman conferred with the mixed-blood girl, then said, “No. Lilac always talked that way. The other girls never paid her much attention.”

  “Did you see Lilac yesterday, before she went to the hot spring?”

  “Yes. She was the first one up, which was strange, because she was lazy and always slept late. She said she wanted to get away before the funeral started. She said she had important business.”

  This interested Sano. He wondered if Lilac had gone to meet her killer. “Did she say what it was? Or with whom?”

  Again the maids shook their heads. Sano felt time speeding away. The Rat looked nervously at the door, and Marume’s eyes signaled Sano that they needed to move on. Sano realized that the only person who could tell him about Lilac was Lilac herself, and since she was dead, the things she’d left behind must speak for her.

  “Show me where Lilac lived,” Sano said.

  The woman led him through the quarters, past mattresses and quilts still spread on the floor amid dressing tables that held mirrors, combs, hairpins, and other feminine paraphernalia. Cabinets stood open, revealing clothes and shoes crammed inside. She stopped in a corner of the room that was bare, uncluttered.

  “There’s nothing to see.” She opened a cupboard to show Sano an empty compartment. “We sent all Lilac’s things to her family in town.”

  Sano gazed at the cramped space that seemed barely adequate for a human to live in. Although the other maids could have used more room themselves, they hadn’t taken over Lilac’s spot, probably shunning it for fear that her bad luck would rub off on them. He saw coarse, grayish salt crystals sprinkled on the floor, to chase away evil s
pirits. Sano could understand why Lilac had wanted to leave Ezogashima, why she’d tried to latch onto Reiko. But he found no clue to who had killed the girl.

  “What now?” Marume asked.

  His face reflected the disappointment that Sano felt. As Sano tried to think where to turn next, he paced Lilac’s corner, and something caught his attention. Salt crystals had collected in a crack between two floorboards, a crack slightly wider than elsewhere. Halting, Sano noticed that one board was shorter than the rest, about as long as his hand. He stepped gently on the short board, and it gave under his weight.

  “A secret compartment?” Marume said, intrigued.

  “I hope.” Sano knelt. He tried to lift the board, but couldn’t get his fingers inside the crack. He spoke to the maids who’d gathered around to watch: “Fetch me a hairpin.”

  One was handed to him. He inserted it in the crack and pried up the short board. Underneath he found a narrow space between the floor joists and a wad of brown cloth. When he picked it out, it was heavier than it looked, due to small, hard objects wrapped inside. He shook into his palm four irregular, gleaming yellow lumps.

  “Is that gold?” Marume put a lump in his mouth, bit it, and said, “In my amateur opinion, yes.”

  The maids murmured with awe at the sight of more money than they could earn in years. The older woman said, “Lilac always had good things. She was like a squirrel, hiding them away.”

  “Where could she have gotten this gold?” Marume asked.

  “I think I can guess.” Sano asked the woman, “Did Lilac know Daigoro the gold merchant?”

  The woman shook her head, but the half-blood girl tugged her arm and whispered to her. “She says she once saw Lilac talking to him in town.”

  Sano’s investigation rebounded to the suspect that Hirata had interviewed, which they’d not pursued because they hadn’t had time, and other suspects had seemed likelier culprits. Now Sano had made a connection between Daigoro and Lilac. He weighed in his hand the gold nuggets she must have extorted from the merchant. Daigoro was back in the picture, a new chance for Sano to solve the murder case just when he’d thought he’d exhausted his options.