introduce the rest of his party, and while Reiko understood that he was only following custom by relegating his wife to the anonymous ranks of his entourage, she hoped this exclusion wasn't a sign of things to come.
"Has there been any change in the status of affairs concerning Left Minister Konoe's death since your envoy delivered the news to Edo?" Sano asked the shoshidai.
"No, I'm afraid the mystery remains."
At least the case hadn't resolved itself already, Reiko thought gratefully.
"Then I should appreciate Yoriki Hoshina's assistance while investigating the matter," Sano said, and Reiko knew he'd guessed which local official would be most able to provide the help he needed.
"Of course, of course." Shoshidai Matsudaira bobbed his head, obviously glad that he wouldn't have to do anything himself. "And I shall host a banquet in your honor tomorrow night." Then, without moving, he faded into the background.
Yoriki Hoshina said, "Ordinarily, we would house an envoy from Edo in Nijo Castle." This was the bakufu's stronghold in Miyako. "But I regret to say that the castle is undergoing major repairs at the moment. Therefore, the best accommodation we can offer is Nijo Manor, a private inn."
"That will be fine, thank you," Sano said.
"Would you like to settle in and rest now?" Hoshina asked.
"I'd rather start working right away," Sano said. "Please have your troops escort my entourage to Nijo Manor, then show me the scene of Left Minister Konoe's death."
To Reiko's dismay, Sano rode briskly through the Rashomon Gate with Hoshina, Detectives Marume and Fukida, and a few guards, while she and everyone else lagged behind. She longed to accompany Sano, but she knew that for him to include his wife in his official business or pay her any attention now would seem peculiar to their hosts and undermine his authority. Cursing her uselessness, she sat trapped in her palanquin, praying that she would be able to make use of her talents later.
"Left Minister Konoe died in the Imperial Palace," Yoriki Hoshina told Sano as they entered Miyako. "Please come this way."
Beyond the Rashomon Gate, another moat lined the Great Rampart, with another bridge leading into the old capital. Unlike Edo, a convoluted labyrinth, Miyako was laid out on a grid based on the ancient Chinese model of city design. A wide avenue extended as far as Sano could see. The procession moved down this, passing narrower streets set at perfect right angles, some edged by canals. Despite the buildings that occupied every plot of land, Miyako's layout gave an impression of spaciousness. This was a city of plastered wood houses, serene in its ordered uniformity. The low gray-tiled roofs peaked and fell like stylized waves. Over shop doorways hung blue curtains; bamboo blinds protected merchandise from dust, while arcades sheltered pedestrians from the weather. Rising up on north, east, and west, the hills held the city remote from the outside world, but the feature that especially reinforced the peaceful atmosphere was the dearth of samurai.
Of all the people who crowded the streets, most were merchants, peasants, or priests. Fewer men sported the shaven crown and two swords of Sano's class. Some were bakufu soldiers; others, accompanied by laden porters, were obviously travelers. Miyako was a civilian city whose business was commerce, religion, and hospitality. Inns, restaurants, and teahouses abounded. Sano glimpsed stores selling cloth and Buddhist prayer beads. In this place where fires, earthquakes, and floods necessitated frequent rebuilding, he saw nothing ancient and no trace of past wars.
However, his historian's eye superimposed another scene upon the tranquil cityscape. Ruined buildings hulked. Fleeing refugees carried bundles on their backs; orphan children wailed; beggars and marauding outlaws roved. Smoke rose from temples burning in the hills. Through
"Has there been any change in the status of affairs concerning Left Minister Konoe's death since your envoy delivered the news to Edo?" Sano asked the shoshidai.
"No, I'm afraid the mystery remains."
At least the case hadn't resolved itself already, Reiko thought gratefully.
"Then I should appreciate Yoriki Hoshina's assistance while investigating the matter," Sano said, and Reiko knew he'd guessed which local official would be most able to provide the help he needed.
"Of course, of course." Shoshidai Matsudaira bobbed his head, obviously glad that he wouldn't have to do anything himself. "And I shall host a banquet in your honor tomorrow night." Then, without moving, he faded into the background.
Yoriki Hoshina said, "Ordinarily, we would house an envoy from Edo in Nijo Castle." This was the bakufu's stronghold in Miyako. "But I regret to say that the castle is undergoing major repairs at the moment. Therefore, the best accommodation we can offer is Nijo Manor, a private inn."
"That will be fine, thank you," Sano said.
"Would you like to settle in and rest now?" Hoshina asked.
"I'd rather start working right away," Sano said. "Please have your troops escort my entourage to Nijo Manor, then show me the scene of Left Minister Konoe's death."
To Reiko's dismay, Sano rode briskly through the Rashomon Gate with Hoshina, Detectives Marume and Fukida, and a few guards, while she and everyone else lagged behind. She longed to accompany Sano, but she knew that for him to include his wife in his official business or pay her any attention now would seem peculiar to their hosts and undermine his authority. Cursing her uselessness, she sat trapped in her palanquin, praying that she would be able to make use of her talents later.
"Left Minister Konoe died in the Imperial Palace," Yoriki Hoshina told Sano as they entered Miyako. "Please come this way."
Beyond the Rashomon Gate, another moat lined the Great Rampart, with another bridge leading into the old capital. Unlike Edo, a convoluted labyrinth, Miyako was laid out on a grid based on the ancient Chinese model of city design. A wide avenue extended as far as Sano could see. The procession moved down this, passing narrower streets set at perfect right angles, some edged by canals. Despite the buildings that occupied every plot of land, Miyako's layout gave an impression of spaciousness. This was a city of plastered wood houses, serene in its ordered uniformity. The low gray-tiled roofs peaked and fell like stylized waves. Over shop doorways hung blue curtains; bamboo blinds protected merchandise from dust, while arcades sheltered pedestrians from the weather. Rising up on north, east, and west, the hills held the city remote from the outside world, but the feature that especially reinforced the peaceful atmosphere was the dearth of samurai.
Of all the people who crowded the streets, most were merchants, peasants, or priests. Fewer men sported the shaven crown and two swords of Sano's class. Some were bakufu soldiers; others, accompanied by laden porters, were obviously travelers. Miyako was a civilian city whose business was commerce, religion, and hospitality. Inns, restaurants, and teahouses abounded. Sano glimpsed stores selling cloth and Buddhist prayer beads. In this place where fires, earthquakes, and floods necessitated frequent rebuilding, he saw nothing ancient and no trace of past wars.
However, his historian's eye superimposed another scene upon the tranquil cityscape. Ruined buildings hulked. Fleeing refugees carried bundles on their backs; orphan children wailed; beggars and marauding outlaws roved. Smoke rose from temples burning in the hills. Through
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