“Fifteen years ago, Left Minister Konoe killed a man,” Captain Mori said. “He would have been tried, convicted, and executed, but we had a better use for him.” Sano interpreted this to mean that the bakufu had hushed up the murder and recruited Konoe to inform on his associates. “Perhaps his death is related to that crime, or troubles within the Imperial Court.”

“Or maybe it had to do with his secret life as a spy,” Sano said, wondering how to protect his family and his interests during an absence from Edo. “Left Minister Konoe might have discovered something worth killing him to hide.” History had shown that the Imperial Court, even when powerless, was a constant potential source of trouble, which the bakufu monitored for reasons inherent in the nature of Japanese government. “This is a serious matter. However, Your Excellency…”

“Yes, it is indeed serious,” the shogun interrupted. “My regime may be in great danger. That is why I am sending you to uncover the, ahh, truth about Left Minister Konoe’s death. You must solve the mystery and, ahh, neutralize any potential threats.”

Sano glanced at Yanagisawa. The chamberlain’s eyes had acquired a familiar opaque look that struck a chord of dread in Sano. Surely Yanagisawa was planning a new scheme against him.

“A thousand thanks for your generosity,” Sano said to the shogun. “My only concern is about what might happen here while I’m gone.”

While Sano sought words to explain his situation, the shogun said, “Much as I hate to see you go, I’m afraid I must make the, ahh, sacrifice. If a, ahh, problem arises while you’re away, your chief retainer shall handle any necessary investigation.”

Sano was ready to spill the whole story of his relationship with Chamberlain Yanagisawa and beg the shogun for mercy. Then Yanagisawa said, “Your Excellency, I commend the brilliance of your idea.” He projected the whole force of his personality into his warm, sincere voice. “I predict that we shall all be glad you decided to send Sōsakan Sano to Miyako.”

Tsunayoshi beamed, but when he turned back to Sano, distrust shaded his eyes. A smile hovered upon Yanagisawa’s lips. Now Sano lost his meager hope of persuading the shogun to curb Yanagisawa’s destructive machinations. Tonight’s events had strengthened the bond between the shogun and Yanagisawa too much. The only way for Sano to regain the shogun’s favor-or survive to defeat Yanagisawa-was to carry out the assignment with unstinting obedience and great success.

“I’ve already sent a messenger ahead to inform the Miyako authorities that you are coming,” the shogun told Sano. “Now go and, ahh, prepare for a quick departure.”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Sano said, bowing.

As he walked homeward down the castle’s winding passages, ahead of him stretched the fifteen days to Miyako and fifteen back, plus however long the investigation took. How he would miss Reiko’s company and advice! To leave her in Edo, at the mercy of Chamberlain Yanagisawa, was unthinkable, even though she would have the protection of Sano’s troops and her powerful father. Then, as Sano entered the Official Quarter, a sudden idea elated him. It posed inherent difficulties, but it seemed a blessed solution.

In the bathchamber, Reiko scrubbed her body with rice-bran soap while two maids washed her hair. Then she sat in the deep, sunken tub, waiting for the warm water to rinse her clean, melt the tension from her muscles, and soothe her thoughts. But worry prevented relaxation. The smoke bomb had terrified her, and why had the shogun summoned Sano?

In working together on investigations, Reiko and her husband had become closer than traditional samurai couples in which the man handled business affairs and the woman tended the home. Even when apart, Reiko and Sano had a special sense of each other. Now this sense warned Reiko that something had gone wrong for Sano. She wished she could have accompanied him to his meeting with the shogun so she would know what had happened, but the flaw in their partnership was that she could never go everywhere Sano did, or fully exercise her talents. Sometimes she regretted the unusual upbringing that had destined her for discontent.

She was the beloved only child of the widowed Magistrate Ueda, who’d provided her the education usually accorded a son. She’d excelled at reading, calligraphy, mathematics, history, philosophy, law, political theory, the Chinese classics, and the martial arts. As a young girl, she’d dreamed of a future filled with adventure. She’d scorned the lot of women, who existed only to wed, serve their husbands, and raise children in homebound seclusion. Fortunately, she’d avoided this fate by marrying Sano. After some initial reluctance, he’d welcomed her help with his work. But too often, she ended up waiting at home, yearning for the freedom and authority granted to men.

Now Reiko was too restless to sit idle. She climbed out of the tub. As the maids dried her with towels, rubbed fragrant oil into her skin, and combed her hair, Reiko’s thoughts moved to another matter that had occupied her mind recently.

Tradition decreed that a wife’s most important duty was to provide her husband with an heir. Despite her unconventional nature, Reiko accepted her responsibility, and she wanted children born of her love for Sano. However, almost a year had passed since their wedding. Although Sano had never broached the subject, Reiko knew he yearned for a son, and she’d begun to worry. Surely conception should have occurred by now. Was she barren?

Then, last month, she’d missed her time of female bleeding. She hoped she was pregnant, but hadn’t told Sano because she didn’t want to risk disappointing him. If she missed her next bleeding, she would give him the good news.

She was sitting in the bedchamber, wrapped in a white silk dressing gown and drying her hair in the night breeze, when Sano returned. “What happened?” she cried.

Sano knelt beside her. As he described how Chamberlain Yanagisawa had stolen credit for capturing the Lion, and the shogun’s rebuke, Reiko’s heart sank. The blow to her husband’s honor struck deep in her own spirit.

“However, I have a chance to set things right,” Sano continued. He explained about the death of the Imperial Court noble, then said, “The shogun is sending me to Miyako to investigate.”

Dismay stunned Reiko; she could hardly appreciate the reprieve from disaster. Miyako was so far away. They’d never been apart for more than a few days, and an extended separation seemed unbearable to contemplate. Tears stung her eyes. Still, she knew how much this investigation meant to Sano. She mustn’t burden him with her unhappiness.

Averting her face, she rose, murmuring, “I’d better pack your things.”

Sano caught her arm. “I want you to go with me.”

“What?” Surprise jolted Reiko. Wives so rarely accompanied their husbands on trips that she hadn’t even considered the possibility of going to Miyako. Confused, she stared at Sano.

He smiled and said, “Wouldn’t you like to help me with the case?”

“Yes, oh yes!” Joyfully, Reiko hugged Sano, her earlier woe forgotten. She darted around the room, unable to contain her excitement. “I’ve always wanted to travel. What a wonderful adventure!”

“I still have to arrange a travel pass for you,” Sano said. “That could be a problem.”

The bakufu restricted the movements of women to prevent samurai clans from relocating their families to the countryside as preparation for revolt; hence, passes were hard to obtain. But this obstacle didn’t faze Reiko, and neither did her possible pregnancy. Now she was glad she hadn’t told Sano about it, because the news might change his mind about taking her, although she was strong and healthy and even if she was with child, a trip shouldn’t hurt. “With all your influential friends, surely you can get me a pass,” she said.