Laura Rowland - The Dragon King's Palace

He steered his retinue across the exposed foundation of a demolished building, toward the palace’s interior. Suddenly he heard a raucous voice shout, “Get away from me, you filthy brutes!” Such glad relief buoyed his spirits that he laughed.

“That’s her,” he said.

The voice shouted more imprecations. Yanagisawa and his men followed it down a walled passage, into a courtyard enclosed by two-story buildings. In the center of the courtyard, three peasant hoodlums surrounded Lady Keisho-in. Their hands reached out to grab as they circled her. The old woman held a long sword that she’d somehow acquired. Clumsily gripping the hilt in both hands, she swung it at the hoodlums.

“Yah!” she cried.

The hoodlums leapt back. As the force of her swing sent Keisho-in reeling, one hoodlum charged at her. She whipped the blade around, slashed his chest, and laid him flat.

“That will teach you to kidnap me!” She chortled in triumph.

Her other attackers spied Yanagisawa and his men, and took off running. “Go after them,” Yanagisawa told several troops. Then he said to Keisho-in, “It’s all right, Your Highness. You’re safe now.”

“Hah!” she cried, flailing the sword at him. “Take that!”

Yanagisawa ducked just in time to avoid a cut to his head. Keisho-in obviously hadn’t listened to what he said and mistook him for one of the kidnappers. Her watery eyes were crazed, her rotten teeth bared in a ferocious grin. Again she swung at him.

“It’s Chamberlain Yanagisawa,” he said as he dodged again. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

Or he would if she didn’t kill him first. Keisho-in spun and tripped. Yanagisawa caught her from behind, locking his arms around her waist. They reeled and tottered together in a ludicrous dance.

“Let me go, you beast!” Keisho-in shouted.

“Help me!” Yanagisawa commanded his men.

Reiko, Sano, and the two detectives landed onshore and climbed out of the boat. Sano called to troops arriving in another boat and told them to look for Midori. Then Reiko showed him and Inoue and Arai the way to the Dragon King. Around them in the forest, battles broke out between the invaders and defenders. War cries and the clash of steel blades shattered the night. A coil of apprehension twisted inside Reiko, because she dreaded returning to that chamber.

In through the palace’s main entrance they hurried. The castle seemed a desolate ruin, abandoned by the kidnappers who’d scattered to fight for their lives. While Reiko led Sano and the detectives up the stairs, she silently prayed that they would find the Dragon King lying dead where she’d left him. If he was dead, he couldn’t hurt her. Nor could he tell Sano what had happened between them.

She and her companions reached the second floor. Incense smoke wafted from the Dragon King’s chamber. Reiko pointed at its door. “In there.”

Sano and his men drew their swords. Detective Inoue cautiously entered first. Reiko and Sano went next. Detective Arai followed. The antechamber was vacant; battle noise drifted in from the balcony. They filed through the opening in the partition. Inside the bedchamber, the Dragon King was kneeling, fully dressed, before the funeral altar with its burning incense and candles. Dismay sickened Reiko. His head turned. His face was bruised and raw from their fight. Blood had run out of his nostrils, down his mouth. He regarded Sano and the detectives with wary unease, but as he spied Reiko, the smoldering light rekindled in his gaze.

“Anemone,” he said.

Sano gave Reiko a questioning look. She said, “He thinks I’m his dead mother.” She hoped she needn’t explain any more.

The Dragon King’s dagger lay unsheathed on the altar. He picked up the weapon. Sano leapt forward, pointing the blade of his sword at the Dragon King.

“Put it down, Dannoshin-san,” he said. “You’re under arrest.”

The Dragon King ignored Sano; he appeared not to see the detectives surround him. He shifted himself to face Reiko. His open robes revealed his naked torso and his loincloth. “When you told me that our time together would soon end, you were right, my dearest,” he said. “The evil influences around us have besieged me. Now I must commit seppuku and avoid the disgrace of capture.”

Reiko saw two small, shallow knife wounds on his abdomen: He’d inflicted preliminary cuts, working up the courage to kill himself. The red-tipped dagger shook in his hand. Sano and the detectives held their positions, eyeing him warily.

“Before I die, there is something I must confess, Anemone.” The Dragon King’s voice quavered with emotion. “For twelve years I’ve kept a secret that has weighed heavily upon me. I must unburden myself to you.” His eyes begged for Reiko’s attention and sympathy.

“You don’t have to listen,” Sano told Reiko.

Much as Reiko would rather leave the Dragon King and never see him again, she felt obliged to let him speak. Sano needed to know what he had to say because it might bear upon his crimes. And although she feared he would mention what had transpired tonight, a samurai on the verge of ritual suicide deserved a hearing even if he was a criminal.

“It’s all right,” Reiko said. “Let him talk.”

Hirata, Marume, and Fukida watched in consternation while burning torches lit up the night and an army of samurai charged through the forest around them.

“Where did they come from?” said Fukida, at the exact instant Marume said, “The island is under attack!”

“There’s three more over there,” shouted someone among the horde. “Catch them!”

Hirata recognized the voice. Gladness filled him, even while the attackers homed in on him. “It’s our detective corps,” he said, then called, “Wait, Kato-san! Don’t attack! It’s me-Hirata.”

War cries gave way to happy greetings as the corps joined Hirata. “So you got here first,” Kato said. “We wondered what had become of you three.”

“Is Sano-san here?” Hirata asked nervously.

“Him and Chamberlain Yanagisawa, too. Where are Lady Keisho-in and the other women?”

“I don’t know. We just got into the wing of the palace where we saw them imprisoned the day before yesterday. But they aren’t there anymore.”

Distant shouts echoed amid the thud of boat hulls against land. Kato said, “It sounds like the Tokugawa army has arrived. This siege is going to be chaos. We’ll be lucky if we don’t slaughter each other instead of the enemy.”

Moments ago, Hirata had feared that the kidnappers had killed the women; he’d hoped they’d somehow escaped. Now he was alarmed to think of Midori wandering the island while a battle raged and troops running amok felled anyone in sight.

“Help me find the women before they’re killed by accident,” Hirata told the detective corps. Then he turned to Fukida and Marume. “Let’s look around the palace.”

They were foraging amid ruined structures and dense vegetation, when a plaintive wail halted them. “What was that?” Fukida said.

“It sounded like a cat,” Marume said.

But the noise evoked wild hopes in Hirata that his mind hardly dared articulate. “Midori!” he yelled.

Pivoting in a circle, he scanned trees and rubble heaps. He heard an answering cry, and spotted her. She sat wedged between a broken wall and a shrub. Her arms cradled a small bundle. She leapt up from her hiding place and into Hirata’s arms.

“You came to save me!” she cried. A torrent of weeping shook her. “I knew you would!”

Tears stung Hirata’s own eyes. He embraced his wife, too overcome by joy to speak. Midori showed him the bundle. “This is our new daughter,” she said, then cooed to the baby, “Look, it’s your father.”

“She knows,” Hirata said. “She called to me.”