Reiko saw that he didn’t think Lady Yanagisawa could be familiar with Yoshiwara customs, what went on between prostitutes and clients, or political ploys. “Yoriki Hoshina might have learned about you and Wisteria from metsuke spies, but women have their own ways of finding out things,” Reiko said. “Maybe Wisteria told her friends or clients about her affair with you, and gossip traveled from Yoshiwara to Edo Castle, where Lady Yanagisawa heard it from her servants. She must also hear plenty that the chamberlain and his men say about bakufu business.”

“That’s possible. But the story in the book seems so real that the author must be a clever writer and have experience with the situations in it,” Sano said. “That description would fit Hoshina better than Lady Yanagisawa.”

“I think she’s smart enough to write a good story,” Reiko said, “and imagination can make up for lack of experience.”

Sano’s expression conveyed doubt. “Supposing Lady Yanagisawa did manufacture the pillow book, she could have also invented the story about the anonymous package to fool you. But you said she wants to be your friend. Why, then, would she try to hurt you by writing slander about me?”

Here Reiko’s logic foundered. “I don’t have a good reason. But Lady Yanagisawa is odd. I don’t like the way she looks at me, or the way she sought my acquaintance at this particular time.”

Instinct told Reiko that the chamberlain’s wife had befriended her for some secret, nefarious purpose. But instinct had also encouraged her to trust a suspect in the Black Lotus murders, and to doubt Sano’s fidelity to her and loyalty to the shogun. Reiko was more afraid than ever that the Black Lotus investigation had permanently damaged her judgment.

She saw her fear reflected on Sano’s face. He said, “If Lady Yanagisawa does want to get me in trouble, why did she do you the favor of bringing you the book instead of leaving it for her husband and letting matters take their course?”

Reiko sighed in dejection. “I don’t know.” Yet her suspicions about the chamberlain’s wife nagged at her. Wishing she’d kept them to herself, she changed the subject: “If the second pillow book is a forgery, then maybe the book Hirata found is Lady Wisteria’s genuine one. Nothing in the first book has proved to be untrue, even though we haven’t been able to find the Hokkaido man. What are you going to do about the second pillow book?”

Sano picked up the volume and weighed it in his hand for a moment, his expression perturbed. “I hate to destroy evidence. But the only information in here is false information about me.”

“There may be clues we don’t recognize yet,” Reiko said. “And the fact that the book says you plotted treason on a night for which you have an alibi reveals that the story is slander. You may need the book as proof of your innocence.”

“Maybe.” Still, Sano was more certain of the book’s threat to him than willing to bet it would turn out to be useful. “But whether the book has any value, it’s too dangerous to keep.”

He untied the ribbon binding and fed the pages one by one into the brazier. They flamed, shriveled, and blackened. At last Sano laid the lavender covers and green ribbon on the coals.

“I wish I could believe this is the end of the matter,” Reiko said, opening a window to clear out the smoke.

“So do I,” said Sano, “but unfortunately, it’s not. Whoever wrote that book will be waiting for Chamberlain Yanagisawa to act on it and me to be ruined. When that doesn’t happen, he’ll know his plan went wrong.”

“And try again to implicate you in the murders?”

Sano nodded. “I must find out who the author is before he manufactures more false evidence against me. And I must find out as soon as possible who killed Lord Mitsuyoshi, so that if suspicion does fall on me, I can prove I didn’t do it.”

The second pillow book complicated the investigation and raised the price of failure; yet Reiko tried to be optimistic. “We’re safe for now,” she said. “Maybe the author of the book is the murderer of Lord Mitsuyoshi and Lady Wisteria. If that’s true, we need to find only one person to solve the case and avoid danger.”

Although exhausted from a tumultuous day and night, Sano and Reiko rose early the next morning, cognizant of how much work awaited them. As they sat eating a meal of rice, broth, and fish, Hirata came to the door of their chamber.

“There’s been a new development,” Sano said. “We have something to tell you.”

He described the second pillow book. After they’d discussed its ramifications, Hirata said, “I came to tell you that Magistrate Aoki has had Fujio taken out of jail and delivered to his court. Our informant there just brought the news. And the shogun wants to see you immediately.”

“The magistrate is interfering again,” Reiko said in dismay.

“As if that wasn’t bad enough, the shogun must want me to explain why I defended Treasury Minister Nitta at his trial.” Unpleasant foreboding stole through Sano. He rose and told Hirata, “You go to the court and find out what’s going on. I’ll be at the palace.”

When Sano arrived in the shogun’s reception hall, he found the Council of Elders aligned in their customary two rows on the upper level of the floor. The shogun sat on the dais, with Chamberlain Yanagisawa kneeling below at his right and Police Commissioner Hoshina at his left. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi looked ill, his features fragile as crumpled paper, his eyes rimmed with red and shadowed underneath. Trembling visibly, he glared at Sano.

Dread chilled Sano as he knelt and bowed. Just as he’d feared, the shogun was furious with him.

“How could you?” demanded Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. “After all I’ve, ahh, given you, after I’ve trusted you, how could you do such a, ahh, cruel, disgraceful thing?”

“A million apologies for displeasing you, Your Excellency.” Quaking, Sano tried to stay calm. “I couldn’t let Magistrate Aoki condemn the treasury minister and end the investigation while there was a strong chance that Nitta was innocent.”

“Of course Nitta was innocent!” The shogun’s voice rose to a high pitch of hysteria. As Sano listened in surprise, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi said, “He didn’t kill my cousin. You did!”

Sano felt shock resonate through his body. The shogun was accusing him? What was going on? Aghast, he looked around at the other men, and his gaze lit on Hoshina.

“The sōsakan-sama appears bewildered, Your Excellency.” Hoshina’s expression was smug, gloating. “If I may enlighten him?”

Tokugawa Tsunayoshi nodded as a sob wracked his body. Hoshina said to Sano, “I’ve located the missing pillow book of Lady Wisteria. It contains a description of a sordid love affair between her and you. She wrote that you used her for pleasure, then mistreated her. She also wrote that you called His Excellency a despicable idiot, and you intended to murder Lord Mitsuyoshi so His Excellency would adopt your son as his successor.

“I showed the book to the Honorable Chamberlain. We agreed that we must show it to His Excellency, and we have done so.”

Yanagisawa inclined his head, silently concurring with his lover. Alarm and confusion beset Sano. Lady Yanagisawa had told Reiko that her husband had gotten the book from an anonymous sender. Had she lied, or had Hoshina secretly opened the package, then pretended he’d found the book somewhere, to impress his superiors?

But however the book had come to light, the shogun had read it before Lady Yanagisawa stole it. Her attempt to do Reiko a favor had failed. Sano had destroyed the book too late, and Hoshina had used it against him.

“I have never insulted His Excellency,” Sano said, his panic balanced by anger at his foe. “Nor have I ever expressed threats toward Lord Mitsuyoshi. I didn’t kill him, and I’m not plotting to put my son in power. The book is a fraud.’’