Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

Yoshisato’s lip curled with contempt. “Coward! You’re not fit to be shogun.”

Infuriated by the worst insult that anyone could level at a samurai, Lord Ienobu scrambled to his feet. His eyes bulged so large that they strained at the mesh of red veins across their whites. Manabe jumped up and reached for his sword; he’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing it.

“And you think you are fit to be shogun? I at least have Tokugawa blood.” Ienobu thumped his chest, then pointed a shaky finger at Yoshisato. “You’re just Yanagisawa’s dirty, stinking spawn.”

Yanagisawa lunged at Ienobu. Sano stood and caught Yanagisawa. “How about a compromise? You both rule Japan-as co-shoguns.”

Everyone stared at him in disbelief. “Are you insane?” Yanagisawa asked.

“In all of history there have never been two shoguns at the same time,” Lord Ienobu said.

“There’s not enough room at the top of the regime for both of us,” Yoshisato said.

“A truce, then,” Sano said in desperation. “To think this over. While I find out who stabbed the shogun.”

Yanagisawa narrowed his eyes. “And give the shogun time to die, and Lord Ienobu time to steal the regime for good? Whose side are you on?”

“That would only postpone the inevitable.” Yoshisato stood shoulder to shoulder with Yanagisawa. He said to Ienobu, “You won’t be a battle virgin much longer.”

White with rage now, Lord Ienobu spoke in a low voice that hissed through his bared, protruding teeth. “You won’t have your head much longer.”

An eerie hush lay over the guest quarters of the Mori estate. It seemed to Reiko as if the world were holding its breath in suspense while she waited on the veranda for Sano to come back from his meeting with Lord Ienobu. She didn’t want to see him or speak to him, but she was anxious to know what was happening.

In the empty garden below her, snow melted, exposing muddy brown grass. Water dripped from the eaves. She pulled her cloak tighter around her and paced to keep warm. She could have waited indoors with Midori and the children, but the house was polluted by the evil spirits of the people who’d once framed her for murder. She wondered how many women throughout the ages had waited like this for their men to come back. Had they been as restless and hungry for action as she?

She felt a prickling sensation of someone watching her. Across the garden, on the opposite veranda, stood Lady Yanagisawa. Her flat face was as expressionless as ever, but her anger blasted at Reiko like a flame from a torch.

Tonight the two of them would be kinfolk, locked together by their children’s marriage.

Reiko’s heart beat like wings that were trying to fly her body out of a trap. She ran down the stairs without knowing where to go. She ran through a gate, out of the guest quarters, and around the silent hulk of the mansion. She ran away from the husband who’d betrayed her and her son; she ran as if running could save her from the wedding, Yanagisawa, Lord Ienobu, and a war. She stopped when she lost her breath. Panting against the wall of the servants’ barracks, she sank into despair. She couldn’t leave her family, and she couldn’t outrun her problems.

As she trudged back toward the guest quarters, a huge black dog with a blunt face, thick, sinewy muscles, and a sleek pelt bounded up to her. A leather collar studded with iron spikes circled its neck. Vapor puffed like smoke from its nostrils as it growled. It was one of Lord Mori’s watchdogs. Frightened, Reiko backed away into a narrow, vacant passage between two outbuildings. The dog came closer and growled louder. She froze, afraid to move.

“Help!” she called.

The dog barked and bared its sharp teeth. Reiko slowly reached for the dagger strapped to her arm under her sleeve. She meant to use the weapon to scare the dog, not hurt it, but it interpreted her movement as aggression. It lunged. She screamed and flung up her arms to protect her face. The dog’s massive weight knocked her down. Pinned under its huge paws, she beat at it while it slavered at her throat.

A high voice yelled, “Stop!”

The dog climbed off Reiko and sat beside her. She gasped with relief. Someone came running down the passage. Reiko sat up and stared in surprise at her daughter.

“Here, boy!” Akiko called. The dog trotted to her, wagging his stumpy tail. She knelt and scratched him behind his ears. His long red tongue licked her face.

“Be careful, he’ll bite you!” Reiko cried.

“No, he won’t, will you?” Akiko addressed the dog in a friendly but firm voice. He let her pet him, as though he recognized her as his master. She seemed suddenly much older than her nine years, her fierce spirit connecting her to her samurai ancestors. Then her face regained her usual childishly defiant expression. “I followed you. Are you mad at me?”

“No, no,” Reiko said, ashamed of ever scolding Akiko for befriending dogs. “You saved my life.”

A long gaze bridged the distance between them. Much was spoken in silence that words couldn’t convey. Reiko told Akiko how thankful she was. Akiko’s face bloomed into a radiant smile: She was glad that for once she’d earned Reiko’s approval. Reiko felt that even though she’d lost the baby and was about to lose her son, she’d found her daughter.

The moment was as fragile, perfect, and short-lived as a spring snowflake.

“Where were you going?” Akiko asked.

Reiko started to say she didn’t know. Despair returned. Sano’s meeting with Lord Ienobu could have no good outcome. Time was speeding toward Masahiro’s wedding. Then she looked into Akiko’s bright, lively eyes. Reiko felt a tingle, as if she’d tapped into Akiko’s energy. She suddenly saw her young self in Akiko-the girl who’d once dressed as a boy, stolen a horse from her father’s stable, and ridden around town. She hadn’t been any more afraid of mean, unruly horses than Akiko was afraid of fierce dogs.

That girl wouldn’t have let herself be trapped like a mouse in a box. She would have found a way out. Reiko felt boldness and adventurousness flowing back into her. She focused her attention on the dog, now tame and friendly. Her heart beat faster with sudden inspiration.

“Come with me,” she told Akiko. “Bring the dog.”

They hurried to the guest quarters. The dog trotted after Akiko. He waited on the veranda while Reiko found the iris fan, swathed in white cloth, which Sano had brought from the castle. She unwrapped the fan. The iron ribs and the cloth were stained with the shogun’s blood. Reiko set the fan on a lacquer chest. It was the cloth she wanted.

“What are you going to do?” Akiko asked.

“I’m going to the castle to find the bloodstained socks,” Reiko said.

Sano or Masahiro would have asked her why the missing socks mattered now, when the investigation had ceased. Reiko would have had to explain that she wanted to prove that Lord Ienobu really was responsible for the stabbing even though Madam Chizuru’s confession was false. If Ienobu was condemned to death as punishment, Sano’s alliance with Yanagisawa wouldn’t be necessary and neither would Masahiro’s marriage to Kikuko. Yoshisato would have a new chance to become shogun, but Reiko would worry about that later. Sano or Masahiro would have forbidden Reiko to leave the estate because it was too dangerous and her plan was foolish, but Akiko said, “Oh, I see! The dog can track the socks! Good!”

Akiko was smarter than Reiko had thought, another surprise. They hurried outside. Akiko held the cloth under the dog’s nose. He sniffed the shogun’s blood, sniffed the air, then barked and ran down the stairs. At the bottom he turned and barked.

“He wants you to follow him,” Akiko said. “Can I go, too?” She looked suddenly peeved, expecting Reiko to say no.