The Snow Empress_ A Thriller Part 13

Hirata had never been hunting, even though the idea had always intrigued him. The Buddhist religion prohibited slaying animals as well as eating meat. So did Tokugawa law, upheld by the shogun, a devout Buddhist. But there were exceptions to law and tradition. People weakened by illness or injuries were given meat stews and broths to cure them. Edo had a flouris.h.i.+ng wild game market for that purpose. Here in Ezogas.h.i.+ma, the barbarians hunted in order to survive, and the j.a.panese usually allowed them-but not today.

"The j.a.panese say the barbarians have to stay in camp. Lord Matsumae's orders," said the Rat.

Urahenka, the onetime husband of Lord Matsumae's mistress, raged at the troops, who retorted. Hirata jumped into the fray. "Let them go," he said.

Both sides looked at him in surprise. The lead Matsumae soldier said, "You don't give orders around here."

"I'm investigating the murder," Hirata said, "and I have Lord Matsumae's permission to question the barbarians. I can talk to them while they hunt."

"You want to go hunting with them?" The leader and his men were flabbergasted. The barbarians muttered among themselves, trying to figure out what was being said-except for Chieftain Awetok, who watched Hirata with unmistakable comprehension.

"Yes." Hirata wanted a new experience as well as a chance to speak with the Ezo away from their masters.

"Well, we're not letting you," the leader said. "If they run away, we'll be blamed."

"I won't let them," Hirata said. "My men and I will bring them back."

"That's what you think. You don't know these sneaky devils. As soon as they get to the forest, they'll give you the slip. You'll be lucky if you find your way home before you freeze to death."

"Please listen to him," the Rat said with a loud sneeze. "He's right."

"We'll compromise," Hirata said. "I'll take just those two"-he pointed at Urahenka and Chief Awetok-"if they'll promise to be good." He turned to the Rat. "Tell them what I said."

The Rat obeyed. The two Ezo nodded. Urahenka looked wary, Chieftain Awetok curious.

"I'll leave the others behind. If their friends don't come back, you can take it out on them," Hirata said to the soldiers. "Well? What do you say?"

As the soldiers exchanged glances, sly grins crossed their faces. They liked the idea of giving their superior from Edo a taste of northern life. "Suit yourself," the leader said, and conveyed the information >n Ezo language to the barbarians.

Chieftain Awetok pointed at Hirata's, f.u.kida's, and the Rat's feet. He spoke a terse sentence.

"He says that if we're going hunting, we'll need snowshoes," said the Rat.

"Well, Honorable Chamberlain, it looks as if you've taken your investigation as far as it can go," said Gizaemon.

"Not quite," Sano said.

Snow had begun falling, and as they and Detective Marume trudged from the scene of the murder to the castle, swirling white flakes filled the sky and landscape. The footprints they'd left on their way out were almost filled. Sano could barely see the castle, its walls and turrets dissolved into a white blur. They reached it to find the sentries absent from the gate. Gizaemon muttered in disapproval.

"They should know better than to desert their post. As soon as I can get somebody to let us in, I'll take you to Lord Matsumae. He'll be wanting to hear what you've found out, even though it's nothing." He stalked to the base of one of the turrets that flanked the gate. "Hey! Anybody up there?"

Sano spoke in a low voice to Marume: "It's time for a talk with Lord Matsumae. He's the next step in our investigation."

Marume gave Sano a look of surprise. "You can't be thinking he's the killer."

"The killer is often the person who was closest to the victim." Sano spoke from years of experience as a detective. "In this case, it's him."

"But he was in love with the woman," Marume said.

"Love can be a stronger motive than hate. Particularly when the loved one had a talent for stirring up jealousy."

"But he's letting you investigate the murder. Would he do that if he were guilty?"

"Maybe." Who understood what went on in the mind of a madman apparently possessed by the victim's evil spirit?

A soldier popped his head out a window in the turret. Gizaemon told him to open the gate. Soon Sano, Marume, and Gizaemon were inside the castle. Snow blanketed the courtyard, and the air seemed colder here than outside. As they walked through pa.s.sageways, the castle seemed deserted, a ghost village. The palace had the air of a beast hibernating.

"I would prefer to see Lord Matsumae alone," Sano said.

Gizaemon looked weary of arguing. "Fine. Your man and I will wait nearby."

Lord Matsumae was seated in his private office, poring over ledgers by the light of a lantern hung from the ceiling. Heat simmered up through grilles in the floor, from charcoal braziers underneath. When he saw Sano at the threshold, he said in a loud whisper, "Come in. Please sit down. I'm reviewing the account books. They seem to have become disordered."

Surprised to find him so calmly and productively occupied, Sano entered, knelt, and glanced at the ledgers. Even reading upside down, he could tell that the entries for the past few months were sketchy, the writing almost illegible. Lord Matsumae's officials must have been too busy coping with him to keep the books.

"I'm sorry to admit that I've been neglecting the affairs entrusted to me," Lord Matsumae said ruefully. "I can only hope the shogun will forgive me."

His remorse seemed genuine, his state of mind normal. But Sano detected something in the air around him, like the smell of a sick person who has only temporarily rallied from an illness.

"But my work can wait," Lord Matsumae said, folding his hands atop the ledgers. "Have you found out anything new?"

"Not yet," Sano began.

"Shhh!" Putting a finger to his lips, Lord Matsumae whispered, Keep your voice down. Tekare is asleep. Don't wake her up."

Sano's flesh crawled at the thought of her spirit coiled inside Lord Matsumae like a dormant snake. He said quietly, "I must ask your help with my investigation."

"Of course I'll help," Lord Matsumae said readily. Now Sano noticed a strange quality about his breathing. It rasped softly, like a Roman's gentle snores. "What can I do?"

Sano knew he'd better proceed carefully. Lord Matsumae and Tekare weren't the only ones inclined toward violence. Sano was furious at Lord Matsumae for holding Masahiro prisoner and refusing to admit it. Hiding his fury, Sano forced himself to concentrate on the investigation.

"For me to solve this crime, I need to understand Tekare. I'd like a little background information on her. Could you please give me your impressions of her?"

Grief and nostalgia colored Lord Matsumae's features. "Tekare was like the iris that blooms wild in the far north. So bright, so beautiful, so fresh. So untouched by the evils of society that pollute j.a.panese women. A truly gentle, innocent spirit. She was rare even among Ezo women. The others are eager to take whatever they can from j.a.panese men. They always want food, clothes, jewels, and gold in exchange for their favors. But not Tekare. She never asked me for anything. When I gave her presents, I practically had to force her to accept them. She always said that all she wanted was me. All she asked was the privilege of making me happy."

Lord Matsumae leaned forward, his eyes moist with tears and grat.i.tude. "Can you imagine how wonderful it was, to have a woman want me for myself, not for my status or for what I could give her? To know that she loved me as much as I loved her?"

Sano could imagine that Tekare had used the same ploy as did the most popular courtesans in Edo. They pretended to fall in love with their clients. They made a show of refusing gifts, which made the men heap even more upon them. They were consummate actresses. And so might Tekare have been, if she'd hidden from Lord Matsumae a mercenary side she'd revealed to the gold merchant and her other lovers.

"I understand that she was special to you," Sano said tactfully.

He also understood that he now had four very different portraits of the murder victim. Shamaness, social climber, innocent spirit, vindictive ghost-which was the real Tekare? Lord Matsumae seemed to believe his version of her. Love could be spectacularly blind. If that were the case for Lord Matsumae, there went his potential as a suspect.

"Did anyone have any quarrels with Tekare?" Sano said.

"Not that I know of," Lord Matsumae said. "And she had none with me. We agreed on everything."

During his time as a detective, Sano had learned that there was a point at which one couldn't break a witness or suspect without provocation, threats, or physical force. He knew he'd reached that point with Lord Matsumae. Push too hard, and risk another violent episode.

"That's all I have to ask you for now," Sano said. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Gizaemon and Detective Marume appeared in the doorway: They'd listened to the whole conversation and heard it ending.

"If there's anything else you need, just let me know," Lord Matsumae said.

"There is," Sano said. "I'd like to look around the castle." Not only did he want to search for clues and witnesses, he wanted to find out if his son was in the keep, as the Ezo woman had told Reiko, as Sano was desperate to believe.

"Why?" Gizaemon was quick to challenge Sano.

"Standard procedure, I suppose," Lord Matsumae said. "It's all right. We've nothing to hide." A shadow moved behind his gaze. "But you'll confine your exploring to the palace. My uncle will escort you."

As Sano was led away, he heard Lord Matsumae whisper, "Don't worry, my beloved, I didn't tell him any of our secrets."

Now Sano knew that Lord Matsumae did indeed have something to hide. And he was sure it included Masahiro, imprisoned in the keep, as well as information about the murder.

16.

Walking in snowshoes was harder than Hirata had expected. As he plodded along a trail through the forest north of f.u.kuyama City, he tried to imitate the two barbarians, who moved as easily as across bare, solid ground. But his shoes scooped up and dug into the snow. The old leg injury that hadn't pained him in years began to ache. He and Detective Marume lagged farther and farther behind the Ezo men, their dogs and sled, and even the Rat, who'd remembered the snowshoeing techniques he'd learned in his youth. Hirata climbed out of a thigh-deep drift, shook snow off his shoes, and paused to rest. Breathing hard, sweaty despite the cold weather, he cursed as he recalled the soldiers' warning that the Ezo would shake him off and escape.

"If we go back to f.u.kuyama City without them, the soldiers will laugh at us," Marume said, panting and doubled over beside Hirata. "Sano-san will be angry because we lost two of his murder suspects. And heaven knows what Lord Matsumae will do."

"Come on," Hirata said grimly.

They slogged onward until they caught up with the group. Urahenka spoke, and the Rat translated, "'What took you so long? You're slowing us down.""

Hirata had no chance to retort, because Chieftain Awetok said in clear, fluent j.a.panese. "Now we are far enough from the city that you can ask me things that you could not before."

"Now we're far enough from the city that we can quit pretending you don't speak my language," Hirata said with a smile.

"He speaks j.a.panese?" the Rat exclaimed. "And you knew?" Indignant, he said, "You dragged me all the way out here, when you don't even need me to translate! Well, I'm going home."

He huffed down the trail, but Hirata snagged his arm. "Oh, no, you don't. We still need an interpreter." Awetok wasn't the only barbarian Hirata needed to talk with. "And if you tell anyone he speaks our language, I'll wring your scrawny neck."

Hirata walked with the chieftain, who slowed his pace for the j.a.panese. Detective Marume brought up the rear, but Urahenka forged ahead.

"What did you want to ask me?" Chieftain Awetok said.

Hirata had many questions about the barbarians' world and spiritual practices as well as the murder. "There's an energy in Ezogas.h.i.+ma, like a pulse. I sensed it as soon as we landed here. What is it?"

The chieftain glanced at Hirata, as if surprised that he'd noticed something which j.a.panese usually didn't. "It's the heartbeat of Ainu Mosir."

"Who is that?" Hirata said, wondering if the chieftain meant some barbarian G.o.d.

"Ainu Mosir is our name for this place. It means 'human land." Ainu Ainu-human-is what we call ourselves. It's you who call us barbarians and our home 'Barbarian Island.""

"Oh."

Hirata hadn't realized how insulting was the j.a.panese word for the natives. He was ashamed because he hadn't known that they minded, or that they didn't think themselves the wild, half-animal creatures that the j.a.panese did.

"Why does... Ainu Mosir have a heartbeat?" From now on he must avoid using the words Ezo Ezo and and Ezogas.h.i.+ma Ezogas.h.i.+ma in the presence of the natives. "I've never felt one in any other land." in the presence of the natives. "I've never felt one in any other land."

"Ainu Mosir is alive," said Chieftain Awetok. "She hasn't been killed by men who cut down forests, plow land for farms, and build cities." By the j.a.panese, By the j.a.panese, implied his tone, implied his tone, in your own land. in your own land.

"The heartbeat is growing stronger." It vibrated in Hirata's bones, behind his eyes.

"The Matsumae have driven Ainu Mosir's spirit away from the coast. Her interior is where it is most powerful."

It tantalized Hirata, beckoned him, promised him secrets. He wanted to learn more about it, but snow had begun falling. A few flakes sifting to earth rapidly became thick white veils. The hunting party would have to get to work fast or return home empty-handed. And the murder investigation was Hirata's first priority.

"I've heard some things," he began.

"People will tell you many things," Chieftain Awetok said. "That doesn't mean you should believe them."

That was wise enough advice, if not the kind Hirata ultimately wanted from the man. "What I heard was about Tekare." Although the chieftain didn't react, Hirata felt his guard go up. "She seems to have been a bad woman."

He described what the gold merchant had told him of Tekare's ambitious, conniving nature. "Is that true?"

"The truth has many faces," Awetok replied. "A man may see only one because his prejudices blind him to the others."

Hirata noted that the chieftain could be as deliberately inscrutable and obstructive as Ozuno, his mentor. Must his fate always lie in the hands of old men who made younger ones work hard for every sc.r.a.p of information doled out? Impatient, Hirata said, "Did Tekare in fact give herself to men, then climb over them to her position as Lord Matsumae's mistress?"

"In fact, yes," Awetok admitted. "But there is more to truth than fact. There is more to knowing Tekare than knowing what she did.

"What else is there?"

Awetok gazed through the veils of snow. Ahead of them, the Rat and Urahenka were barely visible, shadows in a whitening landscape. "Life is dangerous for our women. j.a.panese men like the gold merchant invade our villages and help themselves to the girls. When Tekare was fourteen years old, a band of traders caught her in the woods while she was gathering plants. She was missing three days before we found her, badly beaten and left for dead. It took months for her body to get well. Perhaps her mind never did."

Hirata pondered this story and its relevance to the murder. "I don't understand. If Tekare was mistreated by j.a.panese men, why would she want anything more to do with them? How could she bear to have them touch her? Wouldn't she have wanted revenge instead of s.e.x with them?"

"There is more than one kind of revenge."

Tekare had apparently taken hers by driving the j.a.panese wild with her charms, extorting gifts from them, then enjoying their pain when she dumped them. But there was something else Hirata didn't understand. "Was Tekare's behavior considered acceptable by the Ezo-I mean, the Ainu?"

"Not at all." The chieftain frowned, as though Hirata accused his people of condoning immorality.

"Then how could she be your village's shamaness? Isn't that too important a position for a woman like her?" In Hirata's opinion, that would be akin to making a courtesan the abbess of a nunnery. "I should think you'd have chosen someone of better character."

"We do not choose our shamaness," Awetok said. "The spirit world does."

"Oh? How?"

"Early in life, a girl who's destined to be a shamaness will show a sign that the spirits have chosen her as their vessel. When Tekare was young, she caught a terrible disease. She was unconscious for a long time. But she survived. That was the sign. While she was unconscious, her soul left her body and joined with the spirits. They agreed to speak through her and none other in our village."