As would Hoshina’s, thought Yanagisawa. His lover was so transparent in his ambition, and so focused on his goals, that he ignored the pitfalls before him. Yet love excused worse flaws than greed, impulsiveness, or lack of vision.

“If we fail, and Sano succeeds, I’ll lose face and standing in the bakufu,” Yanagisawa reminded Hoshina. “Neither my skill at manipulating the shogun nor my history as his paramour will preserve his good opinion of me. This crime is a potential catastrophe for me- and for you.”

“We won’t fail,” Hoshina said staunchly.

His reassurance heartened Yanagisawa, who’d suffered agonies of fear alone before Hoshina came into his life. Having someone in whom to confide lessened the torment. But Hoshina’s confidence quickly faded into doubt.

“Do you worry because you think Sano is a better detective than I, or that his troops are better than those I’ve trained for you?” he said.

“Of course not,” Yanagisawa said, though he did rate Sano’s expertise higher than Hoshina’s. He wasn’t blind to fact; yet lying came naturally to him, and he would lie to serve affection as well as political necessity. “You’ve satisfied all my expectations.”

Inclining his head modestly, Hoshina basked in the praise.

“I worry because we’ve met our match in the kidnapper,” Yanagisawa said. Possessed of ruthless cunning himself, he could well recognize it in his adversary.

Hoshina nodded, pondered a moment, then said, “What if everyone’s efforts fail? What if Lady Keisho-in and the other women never come back?”

They looked across the garden to the palace. The shogun lay on his back, moaning, while physicians applied herbal poultices to his chest. “If he should lose his mother,” Yanagisawa said, “grief may ruin his health.”

“Should he die soon, his reign would end without a direct heir to succeed him,” Hoshina said. The shogun had a wife and a hundred concubines, but he preferred sex with men, and he had no children. “Who would become the next shogun?”

Long before the kidnapping, many contenders had already begun to plan for his death. Tokugawa relatives connived to raise themselves or their sons to the throne. Yanagisawa and Hoshina had their own plans that they dared not openly voice, because spies abounded in Edo, and not even Yanagisawa’s own domain was guaranteed safe from them.

“The timing is wrong,” Yanagisawa said, answering Hoshina’s unspoken hint that the kidnapping could benefit their plans. “If the crime had happened a year or so later, then we might have cause to celebrate. But right now we aren’t ready for a change of regime.”

“Your bonuses and favors that I’ve distributed have won you a large following,” Hoshina murmured. “Many daimyo, Tokugawa vassals, and a third of the soldiers in the army consider you their master.”

Yanagisawa had made Hoshina a partner in his scheme to transfer the allegiance of the army, vassals, and feudal lords from the shogun to himself, and Hoshina was performing superbly. But Yanagisawa frowned, dismissing their achievement. “That isn’t enough.” The success of their plans required a large majority of influential men on his side. “And the crucial basis for our future is by no means secure.”

Down in the palace, a tall, slender young samurai dressed in brilliant silk robes walked across the veranda toward the shogun. Yanagisawa and Hoshina watched the shogun sit up, his face brighten. The samurai gracefully knelt before the shogun and bowed. His handsome profile was a mirror of Yanagisawa’s.

“The shogun likes your son,” Hoshina said.

Yanagisawa contemplated his son, Yoritomo, born sixteen years ago, the illegitimate product of his affair with a palace lady-in-waiting. Because she was a Tokugawa cousin, Yoritomo was blood kin to the shogun and eligible for the succession. Yanagisawa had supported Yoritomo in a luxurious villa outside Edo, given him gifts, visited him, and won the impressionable boy’s obedience. This year, Yanagisawa had introduced Yoritomo to the shogun. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi had been quickly smitten. Yanagisawa meant for the shogun to adopt Yoritomo and designate him as heir to the regime. But even if the shogun did, Yanagisawa needed more political and military support to crush the opposition that his many rivals would undoubtedly raise against him. And those rivals were as eager as he was for the role of father to the next dictator and power behind the scenes.

“His Excellency also enjoys the company of many other young men,” Yanagisawa said, watching two more samurai join the shogun. They were sons of other officials, as young and comely as Yoritomo. “He’s not ready to pick a favorite.”

“Rumor says that Yoritomo has the advantage because he knows how to please His Excellency,” said Hoshina.

The shogun waved the newcomers away and extended his hand to Yoritomo. The young man helped him rise, and as they moved together to enter the palace, Yoritomo looked over his shoulder at the guard tower. His anxious face communicated reluctance to do what his lord expected, and need for his father’s approval. Then he and the shogun vanished into the palace. As Yanagisawa pictured the scene in the bedchamber, he experienced a stab of guilt. Yet what choice had he except to pander his own son to the shogun? When the current regime ended, his enemies would destroy him and Yoritomo unless he could position them both at the head of the next regime-and prepare to fight a war, if need be, to keep them on top.

“Nothing is for certain until the official heir is installed in the crown prince’s residence,” Yanagisawa said.

Time would have furthered Yoritomo’s progress there; time would have allowed Yanagisawa to profit from Lady Keisho-in’s abduction and the shogun’s demise. But luck had cheated him.

“I understand,” Hoshina said, his initial high spirits deflated. “What shall we do?”

The future that Yanagisawa envisioned necessarily included Hoshina by his side, though he would let Hoshina fear he might be cast off at any time. “We try our best to rescue Lady Keisho-in,” said Yanagisawa.

They exited the tower, stepping from shadow into sunlight, just as a messenger hurried along the wall toward them.

“Excuse me, Honorable Chamberlain.” The messenger bowed. “Soldiers have just brought Lady Keisho-in’s maid back from the Tōkaidō. She’s in the sickroom.”

Yanagisawa dismissed the messenger, then said to Hoshina, “We need to know what the maid saw during the massacre. She may be able to help us identify the kidnappers.” This first possible break in the investigation elated him. “Go and question her immediately, before Sano does.”

“Very well.” An edge to Hoshina’s subservient tone said he disliked taking orders from his lover even though he understood the importance of interviewing the only witness to the crime. Lately, he chafed at the uneven balance of power that Yanagisawa maintained to protect himself. “What will you be doing?”

As they descended the stone stairs to ground level, Yanagisawa said, “I’m going to visit my current worst enemy and determine whether he organized the massacre and kidnapping.”

A small entourage paraded with Chamberlain Yanagisawa through the special enclave inside Edo Castle where important Tokugawa clan members lived. In front of him on the flagstone path walked the two secretaries required for formal visits to high officials; close behind him trailed the five bodyguards who accompanied him everywhere. Around them rose the humming whine of insects in the landscaped terrain that lay motionless in the hot, hazy sunshine. Smoke from a fire burning somewhere in the city sharpened the air; war cries drifted from the distant martial arts practice ground. Troops patrolled the area or occupied guardhouses along the walls that separated the estates. Yanagisawa’s procession halted outside a gate that boasted a three-tiered roof and ornate double ironclad doors.