So the legend went. Toda had risen within the ranks of the metsuke until he became the chief spy. To him and his subordinates belonged much of the credit for keeping the Tokugawa regime in power.

Now Sano heard a voice call, "Greetings, Honorable Chamberlain Sano. Are you looking for me, by any chance?" He saw a samurai who appeared to be Toda, leaning against the bridge's railing. Toda was ageless, his body neither tall nor short, fat nor thin, his face composed of features seen on a million others. He wore the ubiquitous wicker hat and straw rain cape, and an expression of world-weary amusement that was vaguely familiar.

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Sano jumped off his horse and joined Toda; his men halted; traffic streamed around them. "I'm not interrupting any secret operation, am I?"

"Not at all," Toda said. "I haven't done much of that since Lord Matsudaira's death. Things have been quiet lately. I'm just conducting school."

"What kind of school?" Sano asked.

"For the next generation of metsuke agents. Political strife will flare up again eventually, and we'll need new spies who know the craft."

Sano looked around. "So where are your students?"

"They'll show up soon. What can I do for you?"

"I want you to put Chamberlain Yanagisawa under surveillance," Sano said.

Interest enlivened Toda's expression. "Why? Have you reason to believe he's plotting against you?"

"Only that he's been too nice for too long."

"Indeed he has. As I said, things are quiet." Toda added, "I must tell you that Yanagisawa already has us spying on you."

"That doesn't surprise me," Sano said. Yanagisawa was far more careful of potential rivals than Sano had ever been.

"And since I've told you about his spying, I also have to tell him about yours, just to be fair."

"That doesn't surprise me, either." Sano knew that the metsuke had to serve all the top officials in the regime, keep them happy, and offend none. That was how Toda and his kind rode the shifting tides of political power. "Do what you must."

"Wouldn't you rather use your own men?" Toda said, hinting that they were more trustworthy than himself.

"They're on the job, too."

"But they've come up empty, and that's why you're calling on us," Toda said, wisely superior.

"I might as well deploy all the ammunition at hand." Although Sano couldn't entirely trust Toda, he'd run out of other options. "Begin your surveillance today. Handle it personally."

"I assure you that my agents are trained and competent."

"But you're the best."

Humor crinkled Toda's eyes. "Flattery is nice, but what I would really like-"

His gaze suddenly moved past Sano and sharpened. He called, "Kimura-san! Ono-san! Hitomi-san!"

Three people walking across the bridge stopped abruptly. One was a stout woman with a shawl that covered her hair and a basket over her arm. One was a water-seller carrying wooden buckets that hung from a pole across his shoulders. The other was a filthy beggar dressed in rags.

Toda beckoned, and the three lined up before him. "How did you know it was us?" said the woman. She pulled down her shawl, revealing a shaved crown and hair tied in a samurai topknot.

"That's not a bad costume, Kimura-san, but you walk like a sumo wrestler," Toda said. "Nobody on the lookout for a spy would mistake you for a woman." He turned to his other students. "Hitomi-san, your buckets are too light; I could tell they're empty. Don't be so lazy when you're on a real job. It'll get you killed. And you, Ono-san," he said to the beggar. "I saw a merchant throw a coin on the ground, and you didn't pick it up. A samurai like you wouldn't because it's beneath you, but a real beggar would have."

The students hung their heads. Toda said, "You all fail this lesson. Go back to the castle."

They slunk off. Sano said, "Ah, a class on secret surveillance."

"Weren't you a little harsh on your boys?" Marume called from astride his horse. "I didn't see through their disguises."

"You weren't paying attention," Toda said. "But you should be. You might miss someone who's stalking your master."

Marume looked chastened. A chill passed through Sano. Did Yanagisawa plan to assassinate him? Was he acting friendly because he knew Sano wouldn't be around much longer?

"What I would really like," Toda said, resuming their conversation, "is for you to ensure that if there's a political upheaval and you come out on top, I'll survive and prosper."

That was a fair deal as far as Sano was concerned. "Find out what Yanagisawa is up to, and I will."

9

The rain turned into a downpour while Reiko and her escorts traveled to Asakusa. By the time they reached Major Kumazawa's estate, the roof of her palanquin was leaking and her cloak was damp. She alighted in the courtyard, under a roof that was supported on pillars and covered a path leading up the steps of the mansion. She'd been curious to see Sano's clan's ancestral home, but the streaming rain obscured the buildings.

An old woman met her on the veranda, bowed, and said, "Welcome, Honorable Lady Reiko. We've been expecting you." She was in her sixties, gray-haired, modestly dressed. Her plain, somber face was shadowed under the eyes, as if from a sleepless night. "My name is Yasuko. I am Chiyo's mother." She ushered Reiko into the mansion's entryway, where Reiko removed her shoes and cloak. "I'm sorry you had to make such a long journey in this weather." She seemed genuinely regretful. "It would have been easier for you to see Chiyo at her home in town, but she is unable to return there. Her husband has cast her off."

Reiko was shocked, although she realized she shouldn't be. Society viewed a woman who'd been violated as disgraced and contaminated. Rape was considered akin to adultery, even though the victim wasn't to blame.

"When he came last night to fetch Chiyo, he found out what had happened to her," Yasuko explained. "He no longer wants her as his wife. He means to get a divorce."

"How terrible," Reiko said as the woman escorted her through the mansion's dim, dank corridors.

Her husband could divorce Chiyo by simply picking up a brush and inking three and a half straight lines on a piece of paper. And that was a mild punishment. He could have sent her to work in a brothel if he so chose.

"What is worse, her husband has kept their children, and he won't even let her see them," Yasuko said. "She is very upset."

She slid open a door, called inside, "Lady Reiko is here," and stood aside for Reiko to enter.

Chiyo was sitting up in bed, propped by pillows. A quilt covered her from bosom to toes, even though the room was warm and stuffy. Her lank hair spilled from the bandage that swathed her head. Her features were so swollen from crying that Reiko couldn't tell what she looked like under normal circumstances. Chiyo's mouth quivered and her chest heaved with sobs.

Reiko knew that state of profound grief that possesses mind and body like an uncontrollable force. She'd experienced it once in Miyako, when she'd thought Sano had been killed, and again when she'd gone north to rescue Masahiro and found evidence that he was dead. Now Reiko faced a woman who'd lost her husband and children even though they were still alive. She forgot that she'd once been ready to dislike Sano's relatives because they cared more for social customs than for their blood kin. Her heart went out to Chiyo.

She knelt beside Chiyo, bowed, and said, "I am so sorry about what happened." She felt inadequate, unable to think of anything else to say but, "Please accept my sympathy."

"Many thanks." Chiyo's voice broke on a sob. "You're very kind."

Her mother offered Reiko refreshments. Reiko politely refused, was pressed, then accepted. The social routine gave Chiyo time to compose herself. Yasuko went off to see about the food. Reiko sensed that she didn't want to listen while Reiko questioned Chiyo and hear disturbing answers.