Laura Rowland - The Cloud Pavilion

"It's reasonable that Yanagisawa would decide his son should marry," Reiko said to Sano. "Yoritomo is more than of age. Maybe the meeting had nothing to do with political schemes." She sounded more hopeful than convinced.

"Maybe not, but then why should Yanagisawa keep Yoritomo's marriage prospects under wraps? I'd have expected him to put out the word that he was looking for a wife for his son and send a go-between to solicit offers from important families. No-there's something fishy about that miai."

Sano turned to Toda. "Continue your surveillance on Yanagisawa. Find out who those ladies are and what Yanagisawa is trying to accomplish."

"I'll do my best," Toda said, then bowed and departed.

Alone with his wife, in the quiet of their home, Sano suddenly realized how exhausted he was from the day's endeavors and disappointments. Masahiro's escapade on top of everything else was entirely too much. Sano was also ravenous with hunger.

"Let's eat," he said, "then go to bed."

"That sounds wonderful," Reiko said. "Tomorrow should be a better day," Sano said. "We'll get another chance to catch the kidnapper. And what else could possibly go wrong?"

Morning thunder awakened Edo. Storm clouds obliterated

the sunrise. Rain swept the city, drenched people hurrying along streets whose ends vanished into streaming mist. Edo Castle wore a veil of showers that poured down from the sky, rendering the turrets and rooftops invisible from below.

Inside her chamber, Reiko opened the door that led to the garden. She frowned at the rain. Today's journey would be wet and uncomfortable, even more so for her palanquin bearers and guards than for herself. As she closed the door, Akiko toddled into the room and said, "Mama, no go."

Reiko sighed. Akiko often ignored her for days, and Reiko had to work to get her attention. But sometimes-invariably when Reiko had important business to take care of-Akiko couldn't live without her. Akiko had sharp instincts that warned her when Reiko was about to leave the house. Maybe she feared being abandoned again, and her bad timing was perfect.

"I'll be back before you know it," Reiko said as she knelt, hugged Akiko, and tried to soothe her.

Akiko clung and began to cry. Reiko finally had to call the nurse to peel Akiko off her. She left Akiko with a promise to bring her candy. The sound of Akiko's sobs followed her down the corridor. Motherhood and detective work were not always compatible. Reiko swallowed her guilt and went to look in on Masahiro.

He was in his room, practicing calligraphy, supervised by his tutor, guarded by one of Sano's soldiers. When Reiko put her head into the room, he barely glanced up from his work.

"I have an errand, then I'm going to visit your father's cousin," Reiko said. "Be good while I'm gone."

"Yes, Mother." Masahiro looked so unhappy about being confined to his quarters that Reiko felt sorry for him. But she had to uphold the law that Sano had laid down.

"Do you promise to stay home?" she asked.

Masahiro sighed with all the exasperation and impatience that nine-year-old boys could convey so well. "Yes, Mother."

Before Sano could resume his investigation, he had an important meeting with the shogun, Yanagisawa, and the Council of Elders.

In the main reception room in the palace, the shogun knelt on the dais. The mural at his back depicted lily pads and blossoms floating on a blue pond under a gilded sky. Charcoal braziers warmed away the dampness in the air. Sano and Yanagisawa shared the place of honor to the shogun's right. They scrupulously took turns sitting closest to him. Today the privilege was Sano's.

The elders-four old men who comprised Japan's highest governing body-knelt on the floor one level below the dais. A few lesser officials occupied the next, lower level. Secretaries sat at desks off to the side; guards stood along the walls. Everyone was flushed from the heat except the shogun. Although he was bundled up in a thick, bronze satin robe, his complexion had its usual waxen pallor. As Sano, Yanagisawa, and the elders discussed government affairs, he grew bored and restless. Sano could almost see the words going in one of his ears and out the other. When asked to approve decisions, he did so automatically, and the secretaries applied his signature seal to documents.

The assembly reached the final item on the agenda. "His Excellency's pilgrimage to Nikko Toshogu," announced the senior elder.

The Toshogu was a shrine in the city of Nikko, a two-day journey north of Edo, where the first Tokugawa shogun had been laid to rest. Now the shogun perked up.

"Ahh, I've been so looking forward to my trip." He normally preferred not to brave the discomforts of travel, but he was enjoying a rare spell of good health, and it had whetted his taste for adventure. "When would be an auspicious time for me to go?"

The elders didn't answer. Hands folded, expressions grave, they waited for someone else to deliver the bad news.

"Your Excellency, I regret to say that I must advise you against making the trip," Sano said.

"Oh?" Miffed, the shogun turned to Yanagisawa in hope of advice he liked better. "What do you say?"

At one time Yanagisawa would have contradicted Sano to gain points in their lord's favor. But now Yanagisawa said, "I must agree with Chamberlain Sano." The elders looked simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Sano suspected that they missed the excitement of political strife even though they appreciated the peace and quiet. "The trip isn't feasible."

The shogun regarded Sano and Yanagisawa with the hurt expression of a child bullied by his two best friends. "Why not, pray tell?"

Once, Yanagisawa would have let Sano say what the shogun didn't want to hear and suffer the consequences. Instead he explained, "A trip would involve a huge procession, with new ceremonial robes for you and everyone else, plus lodging and formal banquets. That's too expensive."

"How can it be?" the shogun said, puzzled. "I'm rich, I can afford anything I want." Uncertainty crept into his eyes. "Can't I?"

It was Sano's turn to acquaint his lord with reality. "There's not enough money in the treasury to pay for the trip and cover the regime's other expenses."

The shogun wavered between annoyance and dismay. "We've never had this, ahh, problem in the past."

The regime had been chronically short on funds during his rule, and his officials had often tried to tell him, but it never sank in. Ordinarily, Yanagisawa would have jumped at the chance to blame Sano for the shortfall. He'd have accused Sano of squandering and embezzling the money during Yanagisawa's absence. Sano could have accused Yanagisawa of both crimes, which Yanagisawa certainly had committed in the past. But Yanagisawa wasn't doing it now. Sano knew because he kept a close watch on the treasury. Why Yanagisawa now adhered strictly to the rules was a mystery to Sano. So was the reason Yanagisawa didn't seize the opportunity to make Sano look bad.

Sano studied his onetime foe, seeking clues, as Yanagisawa said, "The Tokugawa treasury has become depleted over the years. The cost of rebuilding Edo after the Great Fire-"

The shogun waved away the Great Fire as if it had been a minor inconve nience instead of a disaster that had killed over a hundred thousand people and laid the city to waste. "That was more than forty years ago!"

"There have been other heavy expenditures," Sano said. "You have many temples and shrines to maintain, as well as roads, bridges, and canals."

"Remember that you're supporting thousands of retainers, including the Tokugawa army," Yanagisawa said.

"Ahh." The shogun hunched his back, momentarily weighed down by the thought of his financial responsibilities. "Well, if I need more money, can't you make me some more?"