Laura Rowland - The Incense Game

Akiko stacked wooden blocks, building a house. She put her dolls inside, shouted, “Boom!” then knocked down the blocks. She clapped her hands and laughed.

“I wish she wouldn’t keep doing that,” Reiko said.

“Maybe it comforts her to make a game of it.” Sano hoped the bombing wouldn’t have any permanent ill effects on Akiko. Some scars were invisible. As Reiko sipped her tea, he told her about the shogun’s dramatic announcement. She sputtered tea and choked.

“The shogun has a new heir, and it’s Yanagisawa’s son, but he thinks Yoshisato is his!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe it!”

“Neither could I, but in retrospect, passing his son off as the shogun’s seems just like Yanagisawa. This could be the biggest political upheaval of the shogun’s reign.”

“It’s disgusting how Yanagisawa took advantage of the earthquake.”

Sano thought back over the past month. “He’s not the only person who has, or has tried to. There’s Ienobu, who ingratiated himself with the shogun while the shogun’s usual companions were either too busy or dead. There’s Lord Hosokawa, who used the regime’s financial problems to blackmail me into investigating the murders, and the daimyo who wanted to overthrow the Tokugawa regime while it was vulnerable. There’s Korin, who cheated earthquake victims, not to mention the scores of merchants who are making fortunes off them. Don’t forget the people who tried to get rid of Lady Keisho-in and the shogun by blaming them for the earthquake. And then there’s Masahiro and his promotion.”

“Masahiro deserved that promotion,” Reiko protested, loath to include him in such dubious company. “He’s very capable, even though he’s only twelve.”

“But there’s no denying that he benefited from the disaster,” Sano said. “There’s no denying that the disaster has created opportunity.”

“That’s a different point of view.” Reiko didn’t sound convinced.

“Look around, and you’ll see other examples of opportunity arising from disaster. I’m chamberlain because Yanagisawa’s son Yoritomo died. Going further back, I got into the Tokugawa regime fourteen years ago because someone tried to assassinate the shogun and I saved his life.”

Reiko warmed to Sano’s theory. “Hirata is the top fighter in Edo because he was crippled and he studied the mystic martial arts.” Suddenly stricken by revelation, she said in a hushed voice, “I’m who I am because my mother died giving birth to me.”

“Does everything good have origins in something bad?” Sano mused. “Perhaps. One thing I’m sure of is that when it comes to taking advantage of the earthquake, Yanagisawa has everyone else beaten.”

Apprehension clouded Reiko’s eyes. “What does his coup mean for you?”

“Yanagisawa has gained a big advantage over me. If that were all, I’d predict that the two of us would continue our feud as always, with one’s fortunes rising when the other’s falls. But Yoshisato changes the equation. He’s an unknown quantity.”

“Does this mean Ienobu is out of the picture?” Reiko said.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Sano said. “He has allies who are enemies of Yanagisawa and won’t want Yoshisato inheriting the dictatorship. And Ienobu isn’t the kind of man to accept defeat without a fight.”

Masahiro came into the room, greeted his parents, and said, “Is there any food left?”

“Yes. You’re in luck,” Reiko said.

Sano remembered something. “What did Ienobu say to you this morning?”

Masahiro ducked his head over his rice bowl. “He said I was overstepping my station. He told me to stop giving advice to the shogun, or he would make me sorry.”

“What kind of advice?” Reiko said, sounding as puzzled as Sano was.

“Just some things you and Father taught me.”

“How did Ienobu know you were advising the shogun?” Sano said.

“He heard us,” Masahiro said.

“Didn’t I tell you to be careful?”

“I try to be. But the shogun was upset, and he asked me what to do. I had to say something. And it was during his exercise in the garden. I’d never seen Ienobu there. He doesn’t like the cold. But he was there that day.”

“What an unfortunate coincidence,” Reiko said sympathetically.

But Sano’s instincts tingled in warning. “Somehow I don’t think it was a coincidence. Why did Ienobu choose that particular time to brave the cold in the garden?”

“Maybe Hirata- san knows,” Masahiro said. “He was there, too. I saw him.”

A bad feeling rippled through Sano as he thought of the house that had mysteriously risen from the chasm. He wondered if Hirata’s presence at the scene wasn’t a coincidence either. “Yoshisato isn’t the only unknown quantity. There’s something else going on.”

That night Hirata climbed the hills to the clearing in the forest. There he found a ritual in progress. Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi stood chanting inside the circle of flaming oil lamps, their hands touching, around the altar. They didn’t notice Hirata watching nearby. A figure hovered in the gold-flecked purple smoke from the incense burner. It was the giant warrior in the horned helmet and the old-fashioned armor, his face hidden by his helmet’s visor. Fiery veins of light connected him to the men. Hirata was surprised that he could see the ghost even though he hadn’t drunk the potion or breathed the smoke. Perhaps after seeing it once, he didn’t need to be in a trance to see it again. Its terrifying power boomed and pulsed. He resisted the urge to run.

“Why are you troubled, my lord?” Tahara asked the ghost. “Ienobu has witnessed Masahiro’s influence on the shogun. He can counteract it. Everything went just as we planned.”

Fury beset Hirata. The secret society had known all along, and not deigned to tell him, that his action would put Masahiro in jeopardy!

The ghost spoke in its alien language that Hirata could now understand. “The boy is a minor threat compared to the bastard who purports to be the shogun’s son.” Hirata frowned, confused. Something must have happened while he’d been away from court. “The bastard must be eliminated. Nothing must stand in the way of Ienobu’s becoming the next shogun.”

“How will Ienobu’s becoming the shogun destroy the Tokugawa regime?” Kitano asked.

“Ienobu and his allies are plotting changes in the regime,” the ghost replied. “Within a generation the Tokugawa will crumble under pressure from inside and outside. And I will have my revenge for my defeat at Sekigahara.”

Hirata burst into the circle of light. Tahara, Kitano, and Deguchi started. They turned toward him, their hands still touching. “What are you doing here?” Tahara said without his usual humor.

“Joining the ritual,” Hirata said. “Why didn’t you invite me?”

“We never told you that you would be part of every ritual.” Kitano’s eyes were cold.

“There’s a lot you never told me,” Hirata retorted. “Such as, that the spirit was an enemy of the Tokugawa. Or that its idea of ‘destiny’ is to destroy the regime that I serve!”

“If we’d told you, you wouldn’t have joined us,” Tahara pointed out. Deguchi nodded.

Their callousness fueled Hirata’s rage. “I was a fool to trust you, or it.” He flung out his hand toward the ghost, whose image wavered because he’d interrupted the three men’s concentration. “But I won’t trust you anymore. Because I’ve uncovered your lies.

“Ozuno wouldn’t give you his magic spell book, so you tried to steal it. He fought you. That’s how your face got cut up.” Hirata glared at Kitano, then Deguchi. “That’s why you’re mute.” He said to Tahara, “You didn’t inherit the book. You stole it from Ozuno on your second try, after you killed him. When you lured me into your secret society, you made me a party to our teacher’s murder!”