Laura Joh Rowland - Sano Ichiro 03 - Way of the Traitor

by Way of the Traitor(lit)

  The road ascended the hills. At the top of an incline, Sano looked back to see how far he'd come. In the sky above the harbor floated a lopsided ivory moon whose radiance shimmered on the black water and defined the silhouettes of anchored ships. Darkness cloaked the waterfront, interrupted only by weak lights at the harbor patrol station and Deshima guardhouse. As Sano scanned the scene, his heartbeat suddenly accelerated.

  Far out on the water, toward the eastern cliffs, a green light flashed rapidly five times. Then a flashing purple light took its place, followed by bursts of brilliant white. While Sano watched, the lights repeated their sequence, moving steadily toward Deshima.

  Sano turned his horse and hurtled downhill. His meeting with Governor Nagai would have to wait. Here was a chance to investigate Nagasaki's mysterious lights, and determine their role, if any, in Jan Spaen's murder.

  The twisting road led him on a roundabout path to the harbor. Sano looked across the water and saw the lights flashing from a point halfway to Deshima. He passed unguarded gates whose keepers must have fled in fear. Pedestrians had vanished. The night seemed unnaturally hushed, as if holding its breath until the danger passed. Sano reached the waterfront and found it deserted. Were the harbor police also hiding from the ghosts? A slither of dread crept into Sano's bones. As a veteran of the shogun's unsuccessful hunts for ghosts, he had good reason to doubt any existed, but now his ingrained superstition prevailed. To dispel fear, Sano sought a rational explanation for what he'd seen.

  If the lights were a man-made device meant to scare people away from the harbor, then they'd certainly succeeded. Even if they were a natural phenomenon, as Abbot Liu Yun had suggested, any crime " including murder "could take place under their cover.

  Sano rode down the promenade to the harbor patrol station, which stood dark and silent. oHello! Is anyone there? he called.

  No answer. Sano abandoned the idea of alerting the authorities and getting help catching the lights. Slapping the reins, he sped down the promenade. Several hundred paces ahead, two sentries stood outside the Deshima guardhouse. Facing inland, they seemed unaware of the lights. Sano looked across the open firebreak and over the harbor to his right. The lights flashed brighter now, drawing nearer the island's water gates. He urged his horse to go faster.

  A sharp hissing sound came from his left. Something whizzed past his face and landed with a clatter not far away. Sano ducked. His horse faltered, skidding to a stop. Heart hammering, Sano cautiously looked around. He'd recognized the sound immediately, from past attempts on his life. He didn't need to see the arrow to know someone had shot at him.

  In the direction from which the arrow had come, shops and houses crowded close to the promenades inland side. Amid the rooftops and firewatch towers, Sano saw a shadow move. Then he looked seaward. The lights floated up to the Deshima water gates. Black smoke drifted from them. Excitement leapt in Sano's throat. Instead of taking cover, he rode toward Deshima.

  A second arrow soared just over his head. Sano rejected the idea of calling the Deshima guards. The archer might be someone who didn't want him near Deshima while the lights were there; someone associated with the staff, and perhaps involved in Jan Spaen's murder. Sano turned his mount in the opposite direction. He squinted at the rooftops, trying to locate the archer, but failed. After traversing a considerable distance without attracting more missiles, he hoped the assassin thought he'd changed his mind about going to Deshima. Yet when he doubled back toward the island, another arrow almost clipped his foot. Sano glanced over his shoulder and saw the mysterious lights flashing purple, green, and white at the Deshima water gates. He veered left, up a street leading inland through a neighborhood of closely spaced houses. He paused to look around.

  The street was deserted. Jutting balconies obstructed the moonlight. Sano stiffened at a rhythmic tapping sound. Footsteps on a tile roof overhead? He relaxed when he saw a loose shutter flapping in the wind, but his extra sense detected a threatening presence. Staying in the shadows beneath the balconies, Sano continued inland, as if going home. He braced himself for another onslaught of arrows. None came. He scanned the surrounding rooftops and saw no one. Encouraged, he turned right, following a road that paralleled the waterfront.

  Instantly an arrow hummed over his shoulder and hit the wall of a nearby building. The assassin had guessed his purpose, but Sano refused to turn back. The mysterious lights must be on Deshima now. He had to catch them and determine their cause.

  Now Sano could hear footsteps pounding above him as he rode. He saw the archer, clad in black, long bow in hand, kneel on a roof and take aim. The arrow struck his right shoulder with a bone-shuddering impact. Tumbling off his horse, Sano landed hard on his hip. He cried out as horrible pain flashed down his arm and into his chest. He felt along the shaft to the head embedded at an angle just below the outer edge of his collarbone. Warm blood flowed over his hands. He didn't dare yank out the arrow for fear the bleeding would increase. Vigorous activity would worsen the damage. Yet he couldn't stay here for another, fatal shot.

  Sano lurched to his feet. Then he heard the archers steps, fleeing across the rooftops. A sudden fury gripped Sano. oCome back here! he yelled, reaching for his sword.

  The movement sent fresh agony shooting through his shoulder. In his condition, he would never catch his assailant. Without prompt medical care, the injury could prove permanently disabling, if not deadly. He hated to abandon his pursuit of the mysterious lights, but he had to get home, now.

  Wincing, Sano remounted his horse, clasped a hand over his injury, then began the long, slow ascent through the hushed streets, wondering who had shot him "and why the person had left without finishing him off. He suspected an assassin sent by Chamberlain Yanagisawa, the rival responsible for past attempts on his life. How he hated the bakufu for allowing such crimes! But it could have been Jan Spaen's murderer, because he was getting too close to the truth. Or someone else who didn't want him to discover the secret of the mysterious lights.

  REACHING HIS MANSION exhausted, weak, and soaked with sweat and blood, Sano collapsed outside the gate. The two guards stationed there helped him into the house.

  oSsakan-sama! Hirata came running to greet him in the corridor, accompanied by a manservant with bulging eyes and a puckered mouth. oWhat happened to you?

  oShot. At the harbor, Sano gasped out as the guards carried him to his bedchamber. oGet a doctor.

  The fish-faced servant spoke up cheerfully. oNo need for a doctor, master. Old Carp, at your service. Better at healing than anyone else in Nagasaki, if I may be so bold to admit. A moment, please.

  He shuffled off toward the kitchen. In the bedchamber, Hirata lit lamps and spread a futon on the floor. Gratefully Sano lay down on it. The pain was now a throbbing ache that consumed the upper right part of his body. He closed his eyes, fighting the fear that he'd lose the use of his sword arm.

  Hirata knelt beside him. oGomen nasai "I'm sorry, but I have to remove your clothes. I'll try not to hurt you.

  With a sharp knife, he cut through Sano's cloak and kimonos. Sano winced when he saw all the blood on them. After Hirata peeled away the last layer of cloth, Sano nearly fainted at the sight of the arrow, protruding from the wound from which more blood oozed.

  oTell me what happened. Hirata's voice sounded as though it came from very far away.

  Sano explained how he'd come to be shot, and his theories about why. The act of speaking helped him retain his grip on consciousness.

  Hirata frowned as he gathered up Sano's ruined garments. oThe Deshima guards practice archery. I saw them outside the guardhouse yesterday. Could one of them have shot you?

  oIt's possible, if they're the ones behind Spaen's murder or whatever is happening on Deshima.

  Sano's strength was spent. All he wanted was to have his wound treated, then rest before telling Governor Nagai about Captain Oss's ultimatum. Yet he couldn't put off dealing with Hirata's insubordination.

  oYou shouldn't have been anywhere
near Deshima, Sano said, oor questioned the guards. And you shouldn't have gone to the pleasure quarter looking for suspects. I ordered you to stay out of the investigation. You disobeyed. Tomorrow morning, you leave for Edo.

  Before Hirata could reply, Old Carp entered the room, carrying a water bucket in one hand and a laden tray balanced on the other. oI'll soon have you back in good health again, master, he said. Setting down his burdens, he knelt beside Sano. His mouth puckered tighter as he examined the wound. oVery shallow, and the arrowhead is small and thin. You are lucky. But I must remove the shaft and push the head through. From his tray, he picked up a knife. oThis will hurt, I'm afraid.

  oJust get it over with as fast as you can, Sano said, turning his face to the wall.

  The servant touched the arrow, and the pain flared. Sano jumped. oLie still, please, Old Carp said.

  Sano gritted his teeth, holding himself rigid while the knife sawed through the cords that bound the arrows shaft and head. Involuntary tears leaked from his closed eyes.

  oBe careful, he heard Hirata say.

  oSorry, sorry, Old Carp soothed. oAlmost done. Aha! Here we go.

  A bolt of pure agony coursed through Sano as the arrowhead slid forward and broke through tissue and skin. Sano jerked violently. The pain tore a yell from his throat, then subsided. He opened his eyes to Hirata's relieved face, and Old Carp triumphantly holding up the arrowhead.

  oWorst is over, the servant said. He pressed the wound with a cloth, stanching the flow of blood. oNow I make you feel better. Drink this, please.

  Hirata lifted Sano's head, and Old Carp held a bowl of steaming liquid to his mouth. Sano swallowed, tasting spicy ginseng to calm the nerves, prolong life, and combat weakness; bitter honeysuckle to detoxify his system; musty turmeric to relieve pain and inflammation; the subtle flavor of saffron, used to prevent shock. He lay back and rested while Old Carp washed the blood off him and bathed the wound with a pungent extract of green onion, a remedy against festering and fever. His strength was returning, but melancholy dimmed his spirits. He remembered the night when soldiers had chased him through Edo Castle and beaten him, and Aoi treating his wounds with these same medicines. She had spread the cooked onion leaves over his skin, as Old Carp was doing now. That night, they'd loved for the first time.

  To banish the familiar stab of longing, Sano addressed Hirata more sharply than he'd intended.

  oYou have my order. Can I trust you to obey this time?

  Hirata stood by the door, giving Old Carp room to work. oSumimasen "excuse me, but you need my help. If I'd been with you, we might have caught the lights. And I could have protected you.

  Old Carp, recognizing their need for privacy, said, oYoung master, if you would please press your hand against the onion leaves like so, I will return soon.

  Sano said, oTell the groom to bring my horse. I have to go to the governor's mansion.

  Old Carp sucked in his cheeks, increasing his resemblance to his namesake. oMust advise against riding in your condition, master. Bleeding has stopped, but will start again if you move around too much.

  oGet me a palanquin, then.

  oBut... All right, master. Bowing, the servant withdrew.

  Hirata pressed his palm gently against the onion leaves on Sano's wound. Sano felt warmth and concern flowing from his retainer's square, blunt-fingered hand. He resisted the urge to accept the implicit offer of comradeship, because it also carried the threat of pain and loss.

  oIf you'd been with me tonight, it might be you lying here instead of me, Sano said. oThis investigation is dangerous. I don't want you involved. He paused, then added the selfish reason that was as important to him as Hirata's safety. oAnd I can't bear your death or disgrace, even if you can.

  Above him, Hirata's face was an image of troubled uncertainty, though his hand maintained a steady pressure against Sano's shoulder. oI "please understand, but "I must...

  While he blushed and stammered, Sano waited, hoping to hear why he was so persistent in his disobedience. But Hirata, not given to personal revelations, finally shook his head and blurted, oIt's my duty to face danger with you, or die in your place. If I don't, then I'm already in disgrace. I might as well be dead. A detective who doesn't detect is worthless. This obviously wasn't what he'd started to say, but he just as obviously meant every word. oAnd a samurai who doesn't serve and protect is no samurai at all.

  Pinned under Hirata's hand, Sano stifled a sigh. Here in Nagasaki, all the buried tensions of the past year had surfaced. Hirata had placed him in an untenable position. He didn't want to deny another samurai the right to follow Bushido, but now his own role of master was at stake: He couldn't back down without losing face. Yet if he didn't offer a compromise, he would alienate Hirata even if they both survived this investigation. The dependable Hirata wouldn't leave him, but would serve without the spirit that made him a valuable second-in-command.

  oTomorrow you can verify Abbot Liu Yun's whereabouts the night of Spaen's murder, Sano said after telling Hirata about his interview with the Chinese man, oand also where he was tonight. Find out if he has, or ever had, a gun. He paused, then added with quiet emphasis, oAnd don't even think about going to Deshima, because if I catch you there, you leave Nagasaki.

  oYes, ssakan-sama. Bitterness shaded Hirata's voice and expression: He recognized Sano's ploy to shield him by assigning him a suspect who was neither Dutch nor Japanese.

  Old Carp returned, applied several more onion treatments to Sano's wound, then nodded in approval. oIt should heal perfectly, he said, binding Sano's shoulder with white cotton pads and strips. oAre you feeling better?

  oYes, thank you, Sano answered.

  And for this he was glad. Because now he must deliver to Governor Nagai the news of the Dutch military threat. And tomorrow he must hurry to solve the murder case in time to save the city and his life, and prevent the rift between him and Hirata from becoming permanent.

  Chapter 15

  AS NIGHT CREPT past the hour of the boar, Nagasaki's pleasure quarter sparkled with its usual gaiety. Parties adorned terraces and balconies; music and laughter floated from doorways. Through streets bright with lanterns, samurai, peasants, and merchants strolled past the window cages from which gaudily dressed women called and flirted. Boisterous drinkers filled every teahouse.

  Like the other brothels, the Half Moon boasted a noisy gala of courtesans and clients. Peony could hear the music from her room, a tiny chamber at the rear of the second floor. Wringing her hands, she paced before the open window. The odors of liquor, cooking, and urine tainted the breeze that cooled her flushed cheeks. The lamp on the low table cast her restless shadow against bare walls. Peony prayed that her visitor would come before Minami noticed she wasn't serving drinks at the party and sent someone to fetch her.

  All day she'd slaved in the house, hoping he would reward her obedience by not sending her to the Arab settlement. Fortune had favored her: Two maids had fallen ill, and Minami had kept her home to do their work. But if she didn't win her freedom tonight, she might suffer days of pain and degradation before another opportunity arose. The shogun's ssakan might discover the truth about Deshima and Spaen-san's murder before she could profit from the use of the evidence she possessed.

  A sound outside halted Peony's nervous steps. Face pressed against the window bars, she peered down into the alley. She'd left the back door open and a lantern burning there for her visitor. Now her pulse fluttered as someone moved into the dim light. A man in a hooded cloak, coughing "the sound she'd heard. Stopping beside the door. Looking around to see if anyone was near. Lifting his garments, urinating against the wall...

  ... and walking away.

  Clutching the bars, Peony sank to her knees and shut her eyes. Maybe he hadn't gotten her message. Maybe he couldn't get the money. Disappointment crushed Peony's heart. Rising, she looked out the window again.

  The alley remained empty, enlivened only by noise from the streets beyond. Peony lumbered to the cabinet where she
and her two roommates kept their possessions. She needed something to occupy her, to make the agonizing wait bearable. Among her bedding, clothes, and other personal articles, she found her comb and mirror. After a moment's hesitation, she took out the lacquer box containing her treasure. She'd meant to keep it safely hidden until she got the money, but she needed the hope it represented. She knelt and set the box on the table beside the lamp, then unpinned her hair. The gleaming mass cascaded around her shoulders. Holding the mirror before her face, she began to comb. The rhythmic motion and the sensuous feel of her hair lifted Peony's spirits. In the mirror's clouded glass, her ugly reflection smiled as she fantasized about the future.

  She saw herself, money in hand, striding into the reception room. The crowd would jeer; Minami would scowl and say, oWhere have you been, Peony? The guests want you to dance ~Rising River.'