Chin in hand, Sano said, “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

“Why not?” Reiko asked in surprise. She’d thought Sano would be glad she had something as worthwhile to do as defending a downtrodden member of society.

He spoke with reluctance. “Our situation has changed since I was sōsakan-sama. I’m much more closely watched than I was then. So is my family. We’re all held to a higher standard of behavior nowadays. Things we used to do won’t go unnoticed anymore. The consequences of associating with the wrong people are the same, but the risk is far greater.”

“Are you saying that I shouldn’t associate with Yugao because she’s an outcast and it will reflect badly on you?” Reiko could hardly believe what she was hearing.

“For you to befriend and assist her goes against the taboo that bans contact between hinin and ordinary citizens,” Sano said. “And for my wife to defy the ban will give the impression that I don’t respect the customs that govern society. But that’s only part of the problem.”

Reiko stared at him in open-mouthed amazement. Was this her husband talking? Sano had never used to care so much about public opinion. He certainly wouldn’t have put it ahead of justice. She began to understand why he didn’t want her involved in his investigation.

“The main problem is that your father has asked you to interfere with the justice system,” Sano went on. “I have much respect for him, but he’s pushing the limits of his authority by ignoring the evidence against Yugao-as well as her confession-and asking his daughter to investigate the murders.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it in that light.” Reiko had been focused on helping her father, preventing a possible miscarriage of justice, and her own desire for detective work. Although Sano had a good point, she protested: “But the murders should be investigated. There’s no one else to do it, and I have experience with matters of this sort.”

“I know you do.” Sano’s tone was placating, reasonable. “But you have no official standing. And in spite of that fact, the magistrate clearly intends for the results of your investigation to override those of the police.” He shook his head. “This is bending the law. I can’t condone it. I can’t afford to look as if I favor outcasts and let off self-admitted criminals.”

“Are you telling me I should drop my investigation?” Reiko was aghast, but not just because she realized that his position was insecure enough that his wife’s behavior could be used against him.

“I’m hoping you’ll understand why you should drop it voluntarily,” Sano said.

Reiko sat silent until she marshaled her thoughts. “I understand that your enemies are looking for any weapon to destroy you. I understand that it could be me.”

In the combat zone of politics, even such a minor fault as a wife who flouted tradition was a serious liability for an official. She didn’t want to jeopardize Sano’s position and risk bringing disgrace on him and their family, but neither did she want to give up her investigation. Moreover, she was disturbed by the change in Sano, who once might have eagerly taken up Yugao’s cause himself.

“But a woman’s life is at stake, and there are enough unanswered questions to raise doubts about her guilt. Don’t you think it’s important to find out what really happened the night her family was murdered?” Reiko hated to think Sano had altered so much that he didn’t. “Do you not care anymore about making sure that the real culprit is punished?”

“Of course I do,” Sano said, annoyed and impatient. Pursuing the truth and serving justice were cornerstones of his honor, as critical in his mind to Bushido as courage, duty to his master, and skill in the martial arts. Certainly he was observing his principles in his current case. But Reiko’s words gave him pause. Had six months as chamberlain made him care more for politics and position than for honor? Did he follow his path through the Way of the Warrior only when orders from above gave him permission? The idea dismayed Sano.

“Then do you think that Yugao should die for a crime that she might not have committed because she’s a hinin and therefore doesn’t deserve fair treatment?” Reiko said.

“Her social status has nothing to do with my doubts about the wisdom of your investigation. As far as I’m concerned, she’s as entitled to justice as any other citizen.” Yet Sano heard his tone grow defensive; he wondered if this personal belief he claimed still held true. Had his higher rank made the people far below him seem not worth any inconvenience to himself? “But I don’t have as much room to operate outside the law as I used to.”

“You have much more power than you did before,” Reiko reminded him. “Shouldn’t you use it to do good?”

“Of course.” Sano hadn’t forgotten that was his goal as chamberlain. “But it’s debatable whether giving Yugao a second chance qualifies as doing good. She sounds guilty to me, and if she is, an investigation would only delay justice. And the trouble with power is that it can corrupt those who believe they’re doing what’s right as well as those who try to do evil.”

The specter of Yanagisawa haunted the mansion in which he’d once lived and Sano and Reiko now sat. Now Sano had Yanagisawa’s same position of influence and faced the same temptations.

“Power makes men think they’re above the law, free to act as they please,” Sano said. “Things I do might seem good at the time-but they may have bad consequences I never expected. In the end, I may have done more harm than good. I’ll have abused my power and disgraced my honor.”

And I’ll become Yanagisawa, who schemed, embezzled, slandered, and killed to advance his own interests. Then one day I’ll be shipped off to the same island of exile.

Appalled enlightenment dawned on Reiko’s face as she read his thoughts. “But you would never be as bad as that. And the case of Yugao is just one small though important matter. It could hardly ruin your political career-or your honor. I think you’re blowing it out of proportion.”

She might be right, but Sano didn’t like to be wrong; nor did he want to back down. He felt vexed at Reiko for challenging him and raising issues about himself that were uncomfortable to face. He followed the impulse to take the offensive.

“Now that we’ve discussed my reasons for not wanting you involved with Yugao, I’d like to know why you’re so eager to take on this investigation,” he said. “Has your sympathy for her prejudiced you in her favor? If so, this won’t be the first time that’s happened.”

Reiko’s eyes widened. He was alluding to the Black Lotus Temple case, when she’d tried to help another young woman accused of murder. They seldom discussed it because it had almost ruined their marriage, and was still a sensitive issue. “I have no particular sympathy for Yugao. If you had seen how hostile she was to me, you would know that I have every reason to want to prove she’s guilty.”

Sano nodded, although unconvinced. “But I must ask you to reconsider taking on this new case.”

Reiko was silent, her expression conflicted. Sano sensed how much she wanted to conduct this investigation; he saw her trying not to be angry at him. At last she said, “If you forbid me, I will honor your wishes.”

Now Sano had a dilemma. If he gave in because he loved Reiko, wanted her to be happy, and stood by his principles, he would jeopardize his position, and woe betide them should something go wrong. The threat of death had constantly haunted Sano since he’d joined the bakufu, but now he had even worse to fear. He looked toward the room where Masahiro lay asleep. As his son grew, Sano became more aware of his role as a father and how much his son’s fate depended on him. The son of a disgraced official would face a bleak future.

Yet if he forbade Reiko, he would be turning his back on honor and proving himself a coward. Caught between fire and plague, he erred on the side of honor, as he always had.