Oyoshi nodded. “You took a great risk. You are a man with a soft heart. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you. It is an admirable quality.”

“And you are a foolish old man,” snapped Akitada, turning away. “Go ahead and wrap him up again. If you say he died of natural causes, so be it. Tora, come help the doctor!”

Tora did not answer or appear. Faint sounds came from outside. The doctor’s donkey brayed, and a horse gave a frightened whinny.

Akitada said, “I wonder what Tora is up to.”

They listened, but all remained silent. Akitada regretted having come unarmed on this excursion. Spurred by a sudden sense of urgency, he helped Oyoshi wrap the body and then bent to lift it into his arms.

A shout came from the tunnel entrance. “Come out! You are surrounded.” It echoed crazily among the stones. Akitada almost dropped the late Lord of Takata, but instead slid the body back into the open coffin. Oyoshi helped him push the heavy lid across, and Akitada extinguished the lights.

The voice came again. “Who are you and what are you doing here? Come out.”

They had little choice. There was no sign of Tora. Perhaps he was dead. For all they knew a small army of Takata warriors waited outside.

Akitada sighed. “Take your instruments, Doctor, and let’s go before they decide to close that stone door.”

They emerged cautiously. There was no sign of Tora, but the snowy woods held no army either. Looking around, Akitada felt relief and wondered if—overwrought by thoughts of danger— he had imagined the shouts.

When their ghostly visitor materialized it looked as if one of the grave stones had come to life and started walking toward them. The figure became vaguely human when it reached them: an armed man, holding a sword, and pushing back his helmet.

Kaibara.

His eyes were on Oyoshi. “The good doctor,” he sneered. “What a surprise! Have you taken to robbing tombs now? And the tombs of your betters, too. Tsk, tsk! A capital crime. You should have been more careful.”

Akitada stepped from the shadow.

Kaibara’s jaw slackened.

“Let me explain, Kaibara,” said Akitada, adopting a reasonable manner. They had been caught red-handed, and he was desperately searching for an adequate reason for their presence. “I wanted to spare the family’s feelings, but there was a suspicion that your late master was murdered, and we had to investigate. It would be best if we kept the matter to ourselves.”

Kaibara’s eyes went from Akitada to the open tomb and Oyoshi’s instrument case. A slow, crafty smile came into his face. “Is this so? A blasphemous insult to the late Lord of Takata. And a highly illegal proceeding, I believe. Loyalty to my master unfortunately makes it impossible to accede to your Excellency’s request.”

Oyoshi walked up to Kaibara angrily. “Listen here, Kaibara,” he cried. “Don’t be an infernal fool and—”

Kaibara was quick. With the flat side of his sword he dealt the older man a vici6us blow across the face. Blood spurted briefly, and Oyoshi cried out and fell. Placing a foot on Oyoshi’s chest, Kaibara raised his sword with both hands to strike down. “Pray to be reborn, pill peddler!” he cried.

“No!” Akitada leaped and grabbed for Kaibara’s sword arm. Kaibara was hampered by his armor, but he twisted away and lashed out with his other arm to punch viciously at Akitada’s chest. Akitada gasped for breath but held on, determined to protect Oyoshi. He shouted, “Drop that sword!” and twisted Kaibara’s arm back. Kaibara grunted and turned. Akitada saw the murderous fury in the other man’s eyes, knew that the next stroke would be for him, and suddenly the struggle for the sword had turned into a fight to the death.

It had not occurred to Akitada that he was in danger of being killed. He had feared charges of trespass, sacrilege, grave robbery, and other serious offences involving recall and trial, but not cold-blooded murder. He put all his strength into disarming Kaibara, but as he adjusted his stance to gain leverage, he slipped on a patch of ice and landed on his knees.

Kaibara laughed out loud. He stepped back and bared his teeth. “This is much the simplest way,” he snarled. “Begging on your knees won’t help you now, dog official.” He raised the sword again. The blade flashed dull silver in the moonlight.

Oyoshi screamed for help, and the blade hissed as it cut through the air. Akitada flung himself aside, scrabbling desperately on the muddy ground. Kaibara followed, loomed above him again. Akitada’s fingers closed around a dead branch. He parried the stroke as it came. The branch slowed the blade but it bit into Akitada’s arm near the shoulder, and the pain, when it came, was paralyzing. Kaibara straddled him, his body monstrous in the heavy armor, the sword raised for the fatal stroke. Akitada thought of how he had failed Tamako and his unborn child and closed his eyes.

He felt a crushing blow to his chest. A giant hand compressed his rib cage and he could not breathe. And then the night was shot through by flames and stars and a suffocating blanket of fog. His last thought was, “So this is what it feels like to die.”

But death was slow in coming. Sounds penetrated the fog. Someone was shouting and cursing. The crushing weight was lifted from his chest, and he tried a deep, shuddering breath, savoring the cold, fresh air, savoring even the sharp pain. He welcomed it, because it meant he was alive.

“Here, move him on his side and let me get a look at that shoulder.”

Oyoshi sounded strangely tongue-tied. And he was making spitting noises.

“It’s all my fault. I wish I was dead.”

Akitada opened his eyes. Tora was peering down at him with a stricken expression. “Don’t be an idiot,” Akitada muttered. “You’ll have to close the tomb.”

Oyoshi snorted. “Good! You’re conscious. Sit up, sir, so I can bandage your wound. Kaibara got you, I’m afraid.”

With Tora’s help, Akitada struggled up. He gritted his teeth as Tora and Oyoshi eased the gown from his shoulder. “Kaibara. Where is he?” Tora stepped out of the way, and Akitada saw the lifeless form of the steward on the ground nearby. “Did you kill him, Tora?”

“I got here too late.” Tora sounded bitter.

“But who ...” Akitada’s eyes went to Oyoshi. The doctor’s face was puffy and covered with blood. His eyes were almost swollen shut.

“Don’t look at me,” Oyoshi mumbled through cut lips. “He collapsed on top of you before he could strike again.” He tied the last knot of the bandage and stood up. Tora helped Akitada put his arm back into his sleeve.

Wincing with pain and clutching Tora’s arm, Akitada staggered to his feet. Kaibara lay prone, his arms and legs flung out, and his face turned sideways. His helmet had slipped and a dark puddle of blood was seeping from under his face.