because Yanagisawa hadn’t spoken up for him fast enough. Sano was all the more puzzled. Was Yanagisawa trying to encourage Sano’s suspicions? If so, why?
“Did you send the assassin?” Sano asked.
“No,” Yanagisawa said calmly.
“What’s going on between you two?”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” Ienobu snapped. “And don’t try to pin another crime on me. It didn’t work last time. It won’t this time.”
“Both the shogun’s children were murdered and now there’s been an attempt on his life,” Sano said. “The two people who confessed to killing Yoshisato and Tsuruhime are dead. They couldn’t have stabbed the shogun. But you’re still around.”
Ienobu sputtered. “That’s ridiculous logic! Everybody else in Japan is still around, too. You might as well say they’re all guilty.”
“The two confessions implicated you, not everybody else in Japan,” Sano said. “You were my primary suspect for those murders. You’re my primary suspect this time.”
“And you think you can use your investigation to frame me and get me this time?” Scornful anger twisted Ienobu’s face. “Well, think again. You’re going to prove I’m innocent.”
“How so?” Sano said, offended that Ienobu would ask him to conduct a dishonest investigation, get Ienobu off the hook, and subvert justice.
“I don’t care. Just do it.” Ienobu jabbed Sano’s chest with his finger.
Sano pushed the finger away. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“I’m Acting Shogun. You’ll do as I say.” Ienobu’s bulging eyes gleamed with vengefulness. “Or I’ll have you and your family put to death.”
Being thrown out of the regime and made a r ō nin was trivial in comparison to the threat that Lord Ienobu had kept in reserve for a special occasion like this. Sano knew that Ienobu could kill him, his wife, and his children without asking for the shogun’s permission and worry about the consequences later, but even as fear knotted his stomach, he said, “Go ahead, kill me. That should convince the shogun that you’re afraid of my investigation because you’re responsible for the attack.”
Angrily aware that Sano had a point, Ienobu scowled. Yanagisawa said, “Lord Ienobu, why not let Sano- san do a proper, thorough investigation? You’ve nothing to hide.” A dubious note in his voice suggested the opposite. “Let him find the real culprit, and your innocence will be proven.”
Ienobu turned on Yanagisawa, who’d pretended to uphold his claim of innocence while virtually proclaiming that he was guilty. Sano was stunned because Yanagisawa apparently wanted him alive, after years of trying to destroy him.
“Very well.” The black look Ienobu gave Sano and Yanagisawa said the matter was far from settled.
Sano led the way back inside the shogun’s bedchamber. His knees felt shaky; he’d walked away from a battle he’d expected to lose, and onto very thin ice. This was his most important case ever—the attempted murder of his lord. Bushido required him to find the truth, to exact blood for blood. Yet it might not be Ienobu’s blood. He hadn’t one scrap of evidence against Ienobu, and Ienobu could still make good on his threat.
For now Sano concentrated on solving the crime, his first priority. He would worry about Ienobu—and wonder about Yanagisawa—later. He fetched the lantern, resumed inspecting the floor, and found a dark patch on the tatami, near the wooden sliding door between the bedchamber and the shogun’s study. He crouched.
“What is it?” Ienobu’s tone was half eager, half frightened.
The patch gleamed red. “Blood.” It was irregularly shaped, and wider at the end nearer the door. Sano noted the distinctive marks made by toes and heel. “It’s a footprint.”
* * *
YANAGISAWA WATCHED SANO open the sliding door and carry the lantern into the shogun’s study. More footprints led past the niche that contained a desk on a platform, to the
“Did you send the assassin?” Sano asked.
“No,” Yanagisawa said calmly.
“What’s going on between you two?”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” Ienobu snapped. “And don’t try to pin another crime on me. It didn’t work last time. It won’t this time.”
“Both the shogun’s children were murdered and now there’s been an attempt on his life,” Sano said. “The two people who confessed to killing Yoshisato and Tsuruhime are dead. They couldn’t have stabbed the shogun. But you’re still around.”
Ienobu sputtered. “That’s ridiculous logic! Everybody else in Japan is still around, too. You might as well say they’re all guilty.”
“The two confessions implicated you, not everybody else in Japan,” Sano said. “You were my primary suspect for those murders. You’re my primary suspect this time.”
“And you think you can use your investigation to frame me and get me this time?” Scornful anger twisted Ienobu’s face. “Well, think again. You’re going to prove I’m innocent.”
“How so?” Sano said, offended that Ienobu would ask him to conduct a dishonest investigation, get Ienobu off the hook, and subvert justice.
“I don’t care. Just do it.” Ienobu jabbed Sano’s chest with his finger.
Sano pushed the finger away. “I don’t take orders from you.”
“I’m Acting Shogun. You’ll do as I say.” Ienobu’s bulging eyes gleamed with vengefulness. “Or I’ll have you and your family put to death.”
Being thrown out of the regime and made a r ō nin was trivial in comparison to the threat that Lord Ienobu had kept in reserve for a special occasion like this. Sano knew that Ienobu could kill him, his wife, and his children without asking for the shogun’s permission and worry about the consequences later, but even as fear knotted his stomach, he said, “Go ahead, kill me. That should convince the shogun that you’re afraid of my investigation because you’re responsible for the attack.”
Angrily aware that Sano had a point, Ienobu scowled. Yanagisawa said, “Lord Ienobu, why not let Sano- san do a proper, thorough investigation? You’ve nothing to hide.” A dubious note in his voice suggested the opposite. “Let him find the real culprit, and your innocence will be proven.”
Ienobu turned on Yanagisawa, who’d pretended to uphold his claim of innocence while virtually proclaiming that he was guilty. Sano was stunned because Yanagisawa apparently wanted him alive, after years of trying to destroy him.
“Very well.” The black look Ienobu gave Sano and Yanagisawa said the matter was far from settled.
Sano led the way back inside the shogun’s bedchamber. His knees felt shaky; he’d walked away from a battle he’d expected to lose, and onto very thin ice. This was his most important case ever—the attempted murder of his lord. Bushido required him to find the truth, to exact blood for blood. Yet it might not be Ienobu’s blood. He hadn’t one scrap of evidence against Ienobu, and Ienobu could still make good on his threat.
For now Sano concentrated on solving the crime, his first priority. He would worry about Ienobu—and wonder about Yanagisawa—later. He fetched the lantern, resumed inspecting the floor, and found a dark patch on the tatami, near the wooden sliding door between the bedchamber and the shogun’s study. He crouched.
“What is it?” Ienobu’s tone was half eager, half frightened.
The patch gleamed red. “Blood.” It was irregularly shaped, and wider at the end nearer the door. Sano noted the distinctive marks made by toes and heel. “It’s a footprint.”
* * *
YANAGISAWA WATCHED SANO open the sliding door and carry the lantern into the shogun’s study. More footprints led past the niche that contained a desk on a platform, to the
Similar Books
