The Ronin's Mistress by Laura Joh Rowland Page A

blood scented the air. Then Oishi nodded to his comrades. Without protest, the forty-seven r ō nin let Sano’s troops escort them from the temple.
    Relief and disappointment trickled through Sano.
    “That was a little weird,” Fukida said as he and Sano and Marume and Hirata followed their prisoners out.
    Marume laughed. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
    “Where are we going to put them?” Hirata asked.
    “That’s a good question,” Sano said. Edo Jail was reserved for commoners. Samurai criminals were usually kept under house arrest, but these didn’t have a proper home. They’d lost it after the house of Asano had been dissolved.
    “At least the case is closed,” Hirata said.
    “Maybe not.” Sano had a hunch that it wasn’t. And he suspected that his hunch was more than just wishful thinking.

 
     
    6
     
     
    DRESSED IN PADDED robes and bundled in quilts, Reiko and Chiyo rode through the city in a palanquin carried by four bearers. Mounted guards from Sano’s army accompanied them. Masahiro rode with the guards. Reiko looked out the window at him and smiled.
    “He’s so proud to have his first horse,” she said.
    “He’s already so good at riding,” Chiyo said.
    Reiko wasn’t sure he could control the horse, a brown stallion that seemed far too big. He might be thrown and get hurt. She felt a tender pain in her heart because soon he would be grown up; she couldn’t keep him safe at home forever.
    After a short, cold journey, her procession arrived at the south end of the Nihonbashi Bridge. Quays and warehouses spread along riverbanks lined with boats. Because the bridge was the starting point for the five major roads leading out of town, the area was crammed with inns and shops. Today Reiko saw few travelers in the snow-covered streets. Along the block to which Okaru’s letter had directed Reiko, cheap inns stood side by side, enclosed by bamboo fences. The proprietors looked out their gates in hope of customers. One gate had a tattered paper lantern, which sported a crudely painted dragonfly crest, suspended from its roof. There Reiko’s procession stopped. Her chief bodyguard, the homely, serious Lieutenant Tanuma, announced her to the innkeeper.
    “This is Lady Reiko, the wife of the shogun’s s ō sakan-sama . She’s here to see one of your guests, a woman named Okaru.”
    The innkeeper had a mouth that was puckered as if he’d just drunk vinegar. “All right, but please be quiet. My other guests arrived late last night, and they’re still asleep.”
    Reiko and Chiyo, Masahiro and Lieutenant Tanuma, followed the innkeeper through a passage to a small garden buried under snow and surrounded by guest rooms in small, shabby wooden buildings. The innkeeper pointed to a room on the right. “She’s in there.”
    Reiko and her companions waded through the snow and mounted the steps to the veranda. She knocked on the door. After a moment it was opened by a tall, broad, mannish-looking woman dressed in a brown-and-black-striped kimono and black trousers. A faint mustache darkened her upper lip. She gazed down at Reiko.
    “Who are you?” Her voice was high, feminine, and unfriendly.
    Disconcerted, Reiko said, “My name is Reiko. I—”
    A little scream came from inside the room. A girlish voice said, “It’s Lady Reiko! Let her in, let her in!”
    The mannish woman stood aside. Reiko, Chiyo, and Masahiro slipped past her; Lieutenant Tanuma waited on the veranda. The room was barely larger than a closet. Baggage lay stacked against the wall; bedding overflowed from the cabinet. The girl who’d spoken knelt on the floor beside a charcoal brazier, holding a comb. Her long black hair hung damply around her shoulders. She wore a pale pink robe, the sash loose. She’d evidently just bathed. The sweet fragrance of a clean young woman scented the air.
    “Honorable Lady Reiko! I prayed and prayed that you would come. I can hardly believe you’re here!” The girl gasped. “Oh,