“Did you ever see Egen again?” Hirata said.

“No.”

“Have you heard from him since?”

“Not a word.”

Discouragement filled Hirata, but he couldn’t give up. “Do you know of anyone who might have information about Egen?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“How old would he be now?”

“About the same age as me. I am sixty-four.”

Hirata thanked the monk, who wished him good luck on his search. When he joined his men outside the temple, he said, “We’ve got a big manhunt on our hands. Arai-san, organize troops to ride along the highways and post notices asking for information about Egen.”

Arai looked doubtful. “There’s a lot of area to cover.”

“We’ll cover it as best we can,” Hirata said. “If we’re lucky, Egen is still alive and he’ll turn up.”

If not, Sano and his mother might be doomed.

“And we can always hope that Egen has returned to Edo,” Hirata said. The city was a magnet for all sorts of people, even those with reason to stay away. Maybe Egen had decided that after all this time, it was safe to come back even if he was responsible for Tadatoshi’s murder. “Inoue-san, you’ll help me mount a search in the city. We’ll start by checking the temples in case Egen has joined another order.”

As Hirata rode back toward town, he recalled his conversation with Midori. Working day and night for the foreseeable future wasn’t the best way to fix their marriage. And the odds were his search for Egen would fail. The tutor was one grain of rice among millions.

As Sano rode through the city with his entourage, he felt as if he were traveling into the past. He was about to meet people his mother had known before his birth, who knew things about her that he didn’t. He had an uncomfortable sense that he was digging up his own history as well as investigating a crime. He wasn’t the same man he’d been yesterday, oblivious to the trouble sleeping under the earth with Tadatoshi’s skeleton. And the city around him wasn’t the same city as before the Great Fire.

Gray and brown ceramic tiles covered the roofs of the buildings in the Nihonbashi merchant district. Thatch had been outlawed since the fire; it was too combustible. Sano passed through a gate and the square, open space around it, created to prevent people from being trapped while escaping fires. But these changes were superficial compared to the city’s wide-scale, profound transformation.

After the Great Fire, a legion of surveyors, engineers, and builders had swarmed over the ruins. They’d resurrected a new, improved Edo. Rearrangement had eased overcrowding and prevented fires from spreading. Tokugawa branch families had moved their estates outside Edo Castle; daimyo clans relocated farther from it. The lesser warrior class had moved into the western and southern suburbs. Peasants had gone farther west and colonized new villages; merchants and artisans had been dispersed to Shiba and Asakusa districts. The metropolis grew to more than double its previous size. Many of the new quarters were marshy, at inconvenient distances from the city center, and unpopular, but relocation was mandatory. The alternative for people who resisted was being convicted of arson and burned to death-punishment for fires that would result if they didn’t go.

Sano and his men traversed the Ryogoku Bridge, built to encourage settlement on the east bank of the Sumida River. Tadatoshi’s mother and sister lived in Fukagawa, in one of many villas built after the Great Fire. Noble families now usually had three different residences-an “Upper House” near Edo Castle, for the lord, his family, and his retainers; a “Middle House,” farther away from the castle, for an heir or retired lord; and a “Lower House,” a villa in the suburbs, for evacuation during emergencies or for clan members not needed in town. The villa at which Sano and his men stopped was located in a quiet enclave of samurai residences amid the townspeople’s houses and markets. Guards greeted Sano and his men, took charge of their horses. Ushered inside, Sano found himself in a reception room quaintly decorated with a mural of dragonflies and frogs on a lily pond. Servants bustled off to fetch the women.

They returned carrying Lady Ateki, a minute woman more than eighty years old, her bones as fragile as a bird’s under her gray kimono. Her nose was shaped like a beak, her sparse gray hair tied in a feathery knot. When the servants gently settled her on cushions, she resembled a dove on a nest. Her daughter sat protectively beside her. Oigimi wore a dark brown kimono, and a black scarf shrouded her head. She kept her face turned to her left, toward her mother, away from Sano.

Tea was offered, politely refused then accepted, and served. Lady Ateki addressed Sano: “Did His Excellency the shogun Tokugawa Ietsuna send you?” Her quiet voice sounded like paper crumpling. The wrinkles in her face drooped downward, giving her a permanently mournful expression.

“No,” Sano said. “Unfortunately, he’s been dead twenty years. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi is shogun now.”

“Dear me, how time rushes by.” Lady Ateki sighed. “Who did they say you were, young man? Chamberlain Yanagisawa?”

“No, Mother.” Impatience tinged Oigimi’s voice. She was in her fifties. Thick white rice powder covered gaunt, plain features on the side of her face that Sano could see. “His name is Sano. You’re thinking of his predecessor.”

At least Yanagisawa had held office more recently than the past shogun, Sano thought. But if Lady Ateki was this confused, the interview was off to a bad start.

“Oh. Very well,” Lady Ateki said. “What brings you here, Chamberlain Sano?”

Sano now faced a task more difficult than coping with an old woman’s foggy memory. He had to break disturbing news. “It’s about your son Tadatoshi.”

Alert and trembling, she leaned toward Sano, one hand on her heart, the other outstretched to him. “Has he been found?”

She had clearly never given up hope that Tadatoshi was alive. Sano hated to disappoint her. He glanced at her daughter, to see how she’d reacted to the mention of Tadatoshi, and did a double take.

Oigimi had turned slightly in his direction. The left side of her face was twisted, seamed, and paralyzed with scar tissue under her makeup. Her lips formed a half grimace. Her left eye was a dead gray orb. Sano realized that she was a living casualty of the Great Fire.

Consternation showed on the intact right side of her face. Whether it was in response to news about her brother or because she’d seen Sano’s instinctive revulsion to the ravages of the fire, Sano couldn’t tell. She quickly turned away, pulling the scarf over the wreckage.

“I’m sorry to say it was Tadatoshi’s remains that were found,” Sano said. “He died not long after he disappeared.”

“Oh.” Lady Ateki’s animation faded. “I suppose it was foolish to believe Tadatoshi could still be alive. I suppose I’ve known all along that he was dead.”

“Of course he’s dead, Mother.” Oigimi’s voice sounded unnecessarily harsh. “If he weren’t, he’d have come back by now.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Lady Ateki said, and Sano didn’t miss the frostiness of her tone. Oigimi might be her loyal protector, but their relationship wasn’t all peace and harmony. She turned to Sano. “How was Tadatoshi found?”

Sano explained about the storm near the shrine, the fallen tree, the grave exposed.

“How on earth did he get there?” she said, bewildered.

“Not by himself, obviously,” Oigimi said. “What Chamberlain Sano is trying to say is that Tadatoshi was murdered.”

“Murdered?” Lady Ateki gaped at Sano. Her hands flew to her face. Her fingers trailed down her cheeks, pulling them farther downward. “But who would kill my son?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. I’m investigating his murder, on behalf of the shogun.”

Oigimi said, “Forgive my presumption, but I’d have thought the shogun had more important things to do than bother about Tadatoshi.” She had the traditional outspokenness of older women, despite her disfigurement. “Whatever happened to him happened long ago.” She eyed Sano suspiciously. “Have you a personal interest in this, may I ask?”