It was evening by the time Sano rejoined his family.

Reiko and the children sat in the guest chamber with his mother. Etsuko lay propped up on cushions in bed, with Hana at her side. Masahiro arranged his toy soldiers in ranks on the floor while his grandmother smiled fondly at him and cuddled Akiko in her arms. The children chattered. Reiko had been waiting anxiously for Sano, and when he appeared in the doorway, she leaped to her feet. The children ran to him, and Akiko hugged his leg while he greeted his mother. “Are you all right?” he asked.

The smile faded from the old woman’s face. She murmured, “Yes.” She’d clearly seen from his expression that their problems were far from solved.

So had Reiko. “What happened?” she asked.

“Let’s go somewhere else, and I’ll explain,” Sano said. He tousled the children’s hair. “Masahiro, Akiko, keep Grandma company. Mother, I’ll talk to you later.”

In the privacy of their room, Reiko said, “First, tell me what your mother said this morning.”

Sano rubbed his forehead, weary and upset. “She said she didn’t kill Tadatoshi. But she does know Colonel Doi, the man who accused her. They were once engaged to be married.”

Astounded, Reiko shook her head. There seemed no end to her mother-in-law’s secrets. They further undermined Reiko’s good opinion of Etsuko.

“But I turned up some witnesses who can help her,” Sano said, brightening. “Tadatoshi’s mother and sister will vouch for her character. And Hana has said that she and my mother were together before, during, and after the Great Fire. My mother couldn’t have gone to the shrine and killed Tadatoshi.”

This last news dismayed rather than gladdened Reiko. It contradicted what Etsuko had told her. She could tell by the expression on Sano’s face that he’d noticed the worry in hers.

“Has something happened?” he asked.

“Lieutenant Asukai and I have set a trap for the spy,” Reiko said, delaying the bad news. She related the details.

“That’s good, I hope it works.” Sano studied her curiously, then said, “What else?”

Cautious because she knew he wouldn’t welcome any statements that put his mother in the wrong light, Reiko said, “I talked to your mother, while you were gone.”

“And?”

“I was trying to help her, and you. I asked her if there was anyone who could give her an alibi, and she said no,” Reiko said reluctantly. “But if she and Hana had really been together, wouldn’t she have told me so?”

Sano frowned, disturbed because Reiko had put the alibi in question. “Maybe she forgot that Hana was with her.”

“Maybe.” But Reiko doubted that her mother-in-law would have forgotten such a crucial fact. To her, Etsuko had appeared less impaired of memory than deliberately evasive. It seemed more plausible that Hana had lied, Etsuko hadn’t known that Hana was going to cover for her, and they hadn’t gotten their stories straight.

A moment passed, during which neither Reiko nor Sano spoke. Then Sano said, “Do you think my mother is guilty?” His tone was partly accusatory, partly defensive.

“No,” Reiko said, so fast that Sano eyed her with surprise. “But I think she’s withholding information-” Reiko faltered under his look, which anticipated betrayal and hurt. An uncomfortable, familiar tension vibrated between them. Reiko had felt it before, on occasions when their opinions of a suspect’s guilt or innocence had differed. But this time they couldn’t afford to be at odds. “Information that could help her,” Reiko hastily amended. “Sometimes people charged with crimes just don’t want their private business aired, even if it has nothing to do with the crimes.”

She didn’t want Sano to think she was digging for proof that Etsuko was guilty and taking the accusers’ side against his mother. If their positions were reversed and her father had been accused, she would want nothing less than Sano’s complete faith that her father was innocent. Now she saw relief in Sano’s expression.

“I could talk to your mother again, if you like,” Reiko suggested. “Maybe she’ll open up and tell me more.”

Sano considered a moment. Reiko could feel him weighing possible benefits and dangers. Then he let out his breath. “All right. I haven’t gotten much out of her myself. You might as well go ahead, as long as you’re gentle with her. What could it hurt?”

At the temple in Shinagawa, the priests knelt in the main worship hall for evening prayers. Light from a thousand candles shimmered on their saffron robes and their shaved heads, on the golden Buddha statue surrounded by gold lotus flowers upon the altar. Sweet, pungent incense smoke and the rhythmic drone of the priests’ chanting rose heavenward.

Yanagisawa knelt in his usual position at the back of the hall. Chanting along with the other men, he didn’t look up when Yoritomo, dressed in a hooded cloak, tiptoed into the room and knelt beside him. Nor did Yoritomo appear to notice Yanagisawa. Eyes downcast, they carried on a conversation below the sound of the praying.

“This must be urgent, if you couldn’t wait until we’re finished,” Yanagisawa whispered.

“It is,” Yoritomo whispered back. “And I can only stay a little while. The shogun is keeping me on a tight rein.” He told Yanagisawa about the good character reference that Sano’s mother had received from Tadatoshi’s mother and sister, the new suspect they’d named, the evidence against Colonel Doi, and Hirata’s search for the missing tutor.

Yanagisawa frowned. “Our friend Sano is doing too well with his investigation.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Yoritomo sounded as distressed as if Sano’s progress were his own fault.

“But we shouldn’t be surprised,” Yanagisawa said. “Sano has a talent for fighting his way out of a thornbush. I’ve been watching him do it for ten years. I swear, he must have a guardian deity.”

But not even divine protection could save Sano much longer.

Yoritomo didn’t answer. A sidelong glance at him showed Yanagisawa that his son was more distressed than ever. Fearing that Yoritomo had saved worse news for last, Yanagisawa asked, “What else?”

“I criticized Sano in front of the shogun. I turned the shogun against him a little.”

“That’s excellent,” Yanagisawa said. “Why so glum?”

“You should have seen the look in Sano’s eyes. He was hurt because I betrayed him.”

Yanagisawa refrained from pointing out that Yoritomo could hardly have expected Sano to be delighted. Yoritomo was easily wounded by sarcasm. “Sano is used to treachery. He shouldn’t be so sensitive.”

“But I feel awful!”

“Don’t,” Yanagisawa said. “Just remember, taking Sano down is necessary. If he falls out of favor with the shogun, that’s good. This is war. It’s either him or us.”

A mournful sigh issued from Yoritomo. “I know.”

“It’s done,” Yanagisawa said. “Just forget it.”

“It wasn’t all that happened. Afterward, Sano cornered me. He wanted to know why I did it.” Anxiety filled Yoritomo’s whisper. “He asked what was going on.”

The priests chanted louder, faster. Hands rubbed rosaries between palms. The incense smoke thickened, bittersweet and poisonous. Yanagisawa experienced a pang of fear. “Did you tell him that I’m back and we’re in contact?”

He risked a direct look at Yoritomo, who said, “No!” The young man’s expression begged Yanagisawa to give him some credit. “I made an excuse, then got away as fast as I could. But I’m sorry, Father-I’m not good at these political games. I think he suspects.”

“There’s no reason he should,” Yanagisawa assured his son. His cover was good; not a single rumor about his return from exile had leaked. But he’d underestimated Sano in the past, to his own detriment. He wouldn’t repeat the same mistake. “But we’ll play it safe. Don’t speak against Sano anymore.”

“I won’t.” Yoritomo spoke with obvious relief, even though he still reeked of unhappiness. After a pause he said, “There’s more bad news.”