While Reiko tried to hide her dismay at this new revelation, Sano spoke before she could frame a reply. “You can argue that those girls were jealous of Haru and wanted to get her in trouble, just like everyone else in the Black Lotus. Besides, they were near the cottage, too. They could have burned it. Why trust them instead of Haru? Because they weren’t found near the cottage during the fire.” Exasperation underlay Sano’s reasonable tone. “I checked into them, and they’ve no history of bad behavior, or of relations with Commander Oyama. Nor are they perpetual liars with a fire in their past. You must stop trying to dismiss evidence against Haru.”

“I wish you would stop disregarding evidence against the Black Lotus,” Reiko said. The strife between herself and Sano frightened her, yet she saw no way to dispel it without backing down. She felt ready to abandon Haru, who’d betrayed her trust and was probably guilty of something, if not everything, but her surrender would mean letting the sect escape justice. “Did you investigate Pious Truth’s story?”

“I did. I saw no signs of starvation, torture, murder, imprisonment, or underground secret projects. I’ve assigned men to spy on the temple, but I doubt they’ll find anything either. And I was unable to locate any novice monk named Pious Truth. Apparently, he doesn’t exist.”

“But I saw him,” Reiko said, confused. “I spoke with him. He was real. Where is he?”

Raising his eyebrows, Sano turned his hands palms up. “I did find a novice nun called Yasue. She was not only alive, but apparently happy at the temple. And she has no brother.”

“That could have been a different person with the same name as Pious Truth’s sister,” Reiko said.

Hirata cleared his throat. “Sumimasen-excuse me,” he said. “Today at police headquarters, I interviewed many citizens who say that the Black Lotus kidnaps children, enchants followers, and attacks families that try to get them back. Even if this person who called himself Pious Truth isn’t a novice at the temple, he may be right about the sect.”

“There!” Reiko exclaimed. “Witnesses to confirm my suspicions.”

“Haru’s guilt or innocence is a separate issue from whatever the sect has allegedly done,” Sano said to Hirata. “Hearsay about the Black Lotus doesn’t necessarily weaken the case against Haru.”

“Yes, Sōsakan-sama.” Hirata’s strained expression indicated that he wasn’t convinced, but his samurai loyalty required him to agree with Sano. “I just thought I should mention what I discovered.”

“Who cares about you?” Midori blurted. Everyone turned toward her, surprised, as she addressed Hirata with disdain: “You’re not as smart or important as you think you are.”

Hirata’s jaw dropped. Reiko noted with dour amusement that Midori had begun her new scheme to regain Hirata’s interest. She could have chosen a better time, but at least she’d gotten his attention.

Sano ignored this little drama. “Until we have more clues besides tales from superstitious peasants and mysterious vanishing monks that the Black Lotus is involved in illegal activities, we cannot charge them with any crimes.”

“But we do have more clues,” Reiko said.

She described Dr. Miwa’s and Abbess Junketsu-in’s criminal records.

As she summarized her talk with Minister Fugatami, incredulity dawned on Sano’s face. “You barged in on the Minister of Temples and Shrines?” he said.

“I was granted an audience. He wants you to go to Shinagawa with him tomorrow to investigate the latest complaints against the Black Lotus.” Reiko took the letter out from beneath her sash and handed it to Sano.

He read it, and his expression darkened. Then he crumpled the paper. Rising, he paced the room, regarding Reiko as if she’d lost her wits. “Imposing on Minister Fugatami was a dangerous breach of propriety. Survival in bakufu politics depends on good relationships with colleagues. High officials are quick to take offense. How could you place my career and our livelihood at risk?”

Reiko stood and followed Sano; Hirata and Midori sat watching them. “Please accept my apologies,” Reiko said, now aware of how seriously she could have compromised Sano. “But Minister Fugatami was glad to see me. I wish you would go to Shinagawa and decide for yourself whether the complaints are valid. Surely his opinion counts for something.”

“Minister Fugatami has a reputation for being overzealous,” Sano said in an icy tone. “Many in the bakufu frown upon him as a fanatic because he has criticized, hounded, and tried to abolish sects that later turned out to be perfectly harmless and legitimate. Chances are, he’s persecuting the Black Lotus for no good reason as well.”

Reiko had been so awed by Minister Fugatami that she hadn’t questioned his judgment. Was he wrong to believe the peasants’ stories? Was she wrong to have believed him?

“By approaching Minister Fugatami you obligated me to him.” Sano stopped pacing. “I can’t go to Shinagawa because that would further obligate me to support his crusade whether or not I should. But if I don’t go, I’ll make an enemy. You’ve put me in a bad position.”

Favors were the currency of the bakufu, and Reiko knew that Sano must pay his debts or lose the goodwill of colleagues. Guilt spurred her to reassure him. “Minister Fugatami asked nothing except a chance to convince you that he deserves your support. He understood that you might not be able to go. He said I could go in your place.”

Shaking his head, Sano said, “Absolutely not. That would violate propriety, and you’ve done enough harm already.”

Yet Reiko couldn’t waste the lead she’d discovered. “If I don’t go to Shinagawa, how will we get the truth about the Black Lotus?”

Hirata suggested hesitantly, “I could go.”

“No,” Sano said, his manner decisive. “Sending any representative is the same as going myself, with the same consequences. Besides, there’s no need for anyone to go. We’ll soon have a report from the surveillance team at the temple.”

“By that time it may be too late,” Reiko said. In spite of Sano’s failure to locate Pious Truth, she still believed he was a novice at the temple, and in danger. “How many people must suffer before you intervene?”

“If anyone has suffered, I’ll need evidence before I can take official action,” Sano said, “and the detectives are more likely to provide it than are complaints from the public. I shall wait for their report.”

His tone defied argument, but Reiko said, “I’ll look around the temple after I see High Priest Anraku tomorrow.”

“We agreed that you would restrict yourself to getting information from Haru,” Sano reminded her. “You’ve already broken your promise.” Then suspicion narrowed his eyes. “Just how did you intend to get an audience with Anraku?”

He wasn’t going to like the answer, Reiko thought unhappily. “Lady Keisho-in agreed to accompany me to the temple and order Anraku to see me,” she said.

“You asked the shogun’s mother for this favor?” Now Sano’s face took on the dazed look of a man beholding the wreckage after an earthquake. “How could you have the nerve, especially when you know that her favors don’t come without a price?”

Reiko knew all too well, but she said, “I think the investigation is worth it.”

Sano stared at her, uncomprehending. “Why is that girl so important that you’re choosing her over your safety and my career?”

“I’m not!” Reiko cried, but his question struck close to the truth. Though she loved her husband with all her heart, her choices had in a way placed Haru before him. Somehow, events had swept her beyond reason. Perhaps they’d affected Sano, too.

“You’re at least as prejudiced regarding Haru as I am. May I ask why it is so important for you to condemn her without a thorough inquiry?” Reiko went on. “Are the shogun and the Council of Elders pressuring you to convict her?”

She read in his eyes that he was indeed under pressure, and had a disturbing thought that Sano was no longer the principled, idealistic man she loved. She said, “Can you be forsaking truth and justice for the sake of politics?”