Laura Rowland: The Cloud Pavilion

"You never met a bygone that you could forget," Sano retorted. "Here's another reason you had Lady Nobuko kidnapped and raped: When you tried to marry your son to the shogun's daughter, Lady Nobuko stood in your way."

He watched shock wipe the condescension off Yanagisawa's face. Sano could feel Yanagisawa's impulse to ask how Sano knew about the marriage scheme and who'd thwarted it. In the moment before Yanagisawa regained his usual sardonic expression, Sano knew Yanagisawa was guilty as charged.

"You had an innocent woman kidnapped and raped because she crossed you!" Sano said, letting loose his outrage. This time Yanagisawa had outdone himself in terms of nerve, selfish disregard for human life, and sheer cruelty. "And she's your lord's wife!"

Yanagisawa smiled, his brazen confidence restored. "Let's suppose-just suppose-that I did have Lady Nobuko kidnapped and raped. You have no proof."

"I'm reinvestigating her case. Something will turn up eventually," Sano said, even though he'd been combing the city for four days and no evidence or witnesses had surfaced yet. Yanagisawa had taken pains to cover his tracks.

"Don't count on any help from Lady Nobuko." Yanagisawa's gaze said he knew Sano had asked for an interview with her and she'd refused. Even if Lady Nobuko could recognize the men who'd kidnapped and raped her-which she probably couldn't, because they'd probably given her the same drug that the oxcart drivers had used on their victims-she would never incriminate Yanagisawa. If it was her word against Yanagisawa's, who would the shogun believe?

Probably Yanagisawa.

Furthermore, Lady Nobuko must be aware that no matter how well guarded she was, Yanagisawa could get to her again.

"You won't get away with it," Sano persisted.

"Who's going to stop me? You?" Scorn colored Yanagisawa's voice. "Remember, you have less authority than you once did. I happen to know that His Excellency refuses to speak to you. Meanwhile, my allies are telling him that you're a liability to the Tokugawa regime. When you're gone, I'll still be here."

The genial mask that Yanagisawa had worn for more than a year dropped. At last his face showed his hatred for Sano and his ambition to rule Japan. His dark, liquid eyes shimmered as if with reflections from steel blades.

"Your plan to marry Yoritomo to the shogun's daughter won't work," Sano said. "Try it again, and you'll meet with a lot of resistance."

Sano had told Tsuruhime's husband and his own allies about Yanagisawa's scheme. They'd agreed to block the divorce and remarriage, with military force if need be.

Yanagisawa chuckled. "That's a case of showing up for a battle at the wrong field. Even if I had aimed to wed Yoritomo to the shogun's daughter-which I'm not saying I did-that's not my plan now. I'm exploring other options."

He gestured to a group of samurai who were apparently waiting for him. Sano recognized several Tokugawa clan members among them. Yanagisawa hadn't wasted any time pursuing new, politically advantageous matches for his son.

His son, who'd been his full partner in everything he'd done. Yoritomo had spoken against Sano to the shogun with Yanagisawa's connivance and blessing, whether Yanagisawa ever admitted it or not.

"I won't be out of the shogun's favor forever," Sano said, "and you won't always be in it. As you've learned in the past."

Yanagisawa contemplated Sano. "Here's some friendly advice." He spoke as if he were so confident he'd beaten Sano, he could afford to be magnanimous. "The game has changed. It's not just about the shogun anymore. This concerns the future, after he's gone. There's no point in squabbling with each other, vying for his good grace." Yanagisawa's tone expressed contempt for such past tactics. "The victor will be the one who insinuates himself into the Tokugawa clan and secures a place in the next regime. And even though I might have failed once, I have a head start on you."

A mischievous smile gleamed on Yanagisawa's face. "I have four sons and a daughter of marriageable age. It's too bad for you that your children are so young." As he strode off to join his allies, he said over his shoulder, "Whatever you think happened, I've won this round."

For four days Hirata had been riding through the city, trying to lure his enemy to him. For four days he'd had no luck. Now, as the twilight descended upon Edo, he found himself in the fish market by the Nihonbashi Bridge.

The stalls were vacant. The orange rays of the setting sun cast long black shadows over the empty aisles. Rats and stray dogs scavenged through heaps of seashells. Hirata climbed off his horse and stood in the center of the market. He projected his senses outward, searching.

Once again he failed to detect his enemy's presence.

Hirata breathed his own desperation, which smelled as rotten as the fish market. He was weak, light-headed, and ill from the fatigue born of sleepless nights and constant anxiety. The old wound in his leg ached. He felt as if the enemy had used his own body and mind as weapons against him, had conquered him without a battle.

That was the strategy of the top martial artists in history. Perhaps it had been his enemy's all along.

Other troubles contributed to Hirata's sorry mental and physical state. Before his death, Ogita had told the shogun that Hirata had killed his servant. The shogun, already upset because Hirata had killed too many other men in duels, had decided that Hirata was too dangerous to be allowed near him. Even if Hirata hadn't had to give up his estate to Sano, he'd have had to move out of Edo Castle. Now he and his family lived in a small estate across the river, banished and disgraced.

But Hirata was determined to make amends and regain his good standing. He meant to fight the enemy face-to-face. If he lost, he would at least see his conqueror and know his name before he died.

"Here I am!" he called. "Come and get me. Or are you afraid?"

His taunt echoed across the deserted market. Hirata listened, then froze alert at the sound of footsteps. They approached from every direction, like a multitude converging on Hirata, but they all had the same stealthy, measured gait; they belonged to one lone man. With them came the unmistakable pulse of the enemy's shield.

Even though the familiar panic surged through Hirata, he didn't turn in circles in a futile attempt to locate the man; he resisted the urge to strike out blindly; he didn't waste his strength. He stood still, looked straight ahead down the aisle of stalls, and simply waited.

A man glided into view at the end of the aisle perhaps a hundred paces from Hirata. By some trick of light or sleight of mind he appeared closer, his size formidably magnified. With the sun's orange glow behind him, Hirata couldn't see his features. He was a tall, black silhouette, his topknot a bulge above his shaved crown, his two swords jutting at his waist.

Hirata felt his heart race and the impulse to flee or give chase leap within him as he and his enemy faced each other. He called, "Who are you?"

The enemy turned away, and the fading sun briefly lit the right side of his face. Hirata glimpsed its high cheekbone and strong jaw, and the curve of a smile that was serene and chilling. Then the man stepped behind the stalls and vanished.

Hirata let him go. He knew they would meet again, just as he knew that the matter of when or where wasn't his to choose. The time and place, the weapons and the circumstances, would be the enemy's decision. And then they would fight to the death.

That was their destiny.

"Yanagisawa is right about one thing," Sano told Reiko as they sat in their chamber that night. "He has won this time."

"He did it by fighting dirty." Reiko brushed her hair with hard, angry strokes. "He always does." Sano had told her everything, and she was furious at Yanagisawa. For Sano's sake, she made an effort to smile and look on the bright side of the situation. "This isn't so bad. You always liked investigating crimes better than running the government. And we're back where we started, in the place we lived when we were first married."