The Snow Empress_ A Thriller Part 14

Skeptical, Hirata said, "Yes, well, then, didn't the spirits mind that she was a troublemaker? Didn't that upset the equilibrium of the cosmos?"

Chieftain Awetok gave him a thin, sidelong smile. "I see you're still ready to believe everything you've heard about us from those who would slander our people. But, yes, Tekare's behavior did put our relations with the spirit world in danger."

"And it was your job, as chief, to bring her back to the village and make her behave properly?"

"Yes."

"Or to get rid of her when she wouldn't cooperate?"

Awetok's smile hardened into a grim fissure in his weathered face. "By 'get rid of," I suppose you mean 'kill." You misunderstand our traditions. We Ainu have no penalty of death for crimes."

Unlike you j.a.panese. Hirata heard the message behind Awetok's words: Hirata heard the message behind Awetok's words: Which of our races is more barbarous? Which of our races is more barbarous?

"I would have performed an exorcism, to drive out the evil spirits that had possessed her," the chieftain said.

"And what would that involve?"

"A ritual, not a spring-bow trap."

Hirata wanted to believe the chieftain was innocent, but he wasn't sure a ritual could cure a habit of causing trouble. And he mustn't forget what Awetok had said: People will tell you many things. That doesn't mean you should believe them. People will tell you many things. That doesn't mean you should believe them. That advice applied to the chieftain as well as anyone else. That advice applied to the chieftain as well as anyone else.

"Suppose you had performed this exorcism on Tekare," Hirata said. "Does that mean everything bad she'd done in the past would have been forgiven?"

"All would have been forgiven," Awetok said. "That is our custom."

But Hirata doubted that a ritual could erase years of bad feeling. Forgiveness didn't come that easily, and Hirata could think of one Ainu whom Tekare must have hurt the most. He peered through the snow at Urahenka. The young man had trekked so far ahead and was so covered with white flakes that he was almost invisible. Hirata sensed that Urahenka was less eager to reach the hunting grounds than determined to avoid conversation. Hirata called to him, "Hey! Wait!"

Urahenka reluctantly turned and stopped. When Hirata and the Rat caught up with him, he began walking faster, to shake them loose. He grumbled, and the Rat said, "He wants to know what you want."

"To talk about your wife." Hirata tried not to pant as he struggled to keep pace. Chieftain Awetok and Detective Marume had already fallen behind.

"I already told you everything yesterday."

"Not everything," Hirata said. The path had disappeared, and they were forging through dense woods. The slope of the terrain rose into the hills. Hirata had a sense of moving deeper out of his own element. "You said Lord Matsumae stole your wife from you. But that's not true, is it? You didn't tell me that she went to him voluntarily."

A terse, defiant reply came from Urahenka. "He stole her."

"She not only went to live with Lord Matsumae, but she had many other j.a.panese men before him," Hirata said.

When the Rat translated, Urahenka didn't answer. His mouth compressed behind his whiskers.

"Tekare left you," Hirata goaded him. "She preferred j.a.panese men because they gave her more than you could. She wh.o.r.ed herself to Lord Matsumae, the highest bidder."

Snowflakes pelted Urahenka's forehead and disappeared, as if vaporized by the heat of his anger. But was his anger directed at his dead wife or toward Hirata for insulting her memory? At last he began speaking rapidly. "I have nothing else to say about Tekare. It's time to hunt now. Be quiet or you'll scare away the deer."

Primitive didn't equal stupid, Hirata noted; refusal to talk was a good way for a suspect to avoid being trapped into admitting guilt, and Urahenka obviously knew it.

The chieftain and Detective Marume joined them. The Ainu men left the dogs with the sled, then led the way farther into the forest. Stay behind us so you don't get shot," the chieftain told Hirata, Marume, and the Rat.

He and Urahenka carefully placed one snowshoe in front of the other, easing down their weight. Hirata and his comrades followed suit as best they could. The Ainu men aimed their bows and arrows from side to side, scanning the landscape for prey. The forest was so quiet that Hirata could hear the snow patter on a dead leaf here, plop onto the ground from a branch there. He watched and listened for movement, but the trees and the dense curtains of snow obscured his view. The land seemed empty, lifeless.

Suddenly the Ainu men froze. They simultaneously released their arrows, which zoomed into a stand of pines. Hirata heard thumps as the arrows struck wood. A deer with a silvery pelt bounded out from the trees and scampered away unharmed.

Urahenka muttered what sounded like a curse. Chieftain Awetok merely drew another arrow from his quiver. Amazed, Hirata said, "I didn't even know the deer was there. If it had been a man, I would have sensed his presence." His mystic martial arts training had taught him to detect the energy that people gave off. n.o.body could sneak up on him.

Awetok chuckled. "You samurai focus too much on the world of humans. You ignore the world of nature, which is just as important. Until you learn to pay attention to what nature has to show you and tell you, you are as good as blind and deaf and crippled."

A sense of revelation struck Hirata. Was nature the dimension missing from his awareness? Did it hold the key to enlightenment? The idea seemed too simple, yet alluring. Was oneness with nature and the entirety of the cosmos what he'd come to Ainu Mosir to learn from the chieftain?

As the hunt resumed, Hirata strayed away from the other men. He inhaled and exhaled deep, slow breaths in the meditation technique that he'd learned from Ozuno. Fresh, wintry air flowed through every fiber of him, stimulating yet calming. He let his thoughts drift up into the gray sky. The cold whiteness of the landscape and the sting of snowflakes on his face overwhelmed his senses, liberated his spirit. A trance possessed him.

His spirit inhabited the body trudging through the woods yet floated in a dimension free of himself. He felt his awareness expand as though his mind's energy had burst out of his skull that confined it. He had a terrifying, awesome perception of the world as much vaster, richer, and more complex than he'd ever dreamed. Around him and through him flowed the spirit of Ainu Mosir. Her heartbeat drummed powerfully in rhythm with his own. The forest became animated with forces he hadn't noticed before-the life dormant in the leafless trees and in the animals hibernating in burrows, the energy bound up in rocks, earth, and ice. Nature clamored at Hirata in voices beyond the range of normal hearing, in languages he didn't know. Arms spread, face lifted to the sky, he grasped for comprehension.

A human presence suddenly intruded upon his awareness. His trance shattered. The voices were silenced. Nature's dimension withdrew from Hirata as fast as a hermit crab scuttling into its sh.e.l.l. His spirit snapped back into the iron cage of his body. A premonition of danger blared through Hirata's mind. He whirled in the direction from which it came.

Urahenka stood amid the trees some ten paces away. He held his bow vertical, string pulled back, sighting along the arrow aimed at Hirata. As their gazes met, Urahenka grinned. Hirata was looking death straight in the face.

Triumphant shouts startled them both. The Rat came thras.h.i.+ng through the trees. "Hey!" he yelled. "The chieftain's shot a deer!"

Urahenka quickly lowered his bow and arrow.

"It's a big one," the Rat said happily. "We can go home now, thank heaven." He looked from Hirata to Urahenka and frowned. "What's going on?"

Urahenka gestured at Hirata and spoke. Hirata didn't need to know Ainu language to understand that the man was saying, "He got lost. I found him."

Hirata stared at Urahenka as he walked past him. Urahenka met his eyes, innocently bland. Had he intended to warn Hirata off investigating him and the chieftain? Or had he really meant to kill Hirata-then claim it was an accident-because he was guilty of murder and eager to prevent Hirata from finding out?

17.

Reiko sank to her knees in her chamber, exhausted from her visit with Lady Matsumae.

In the past she'd held her own against bigger, tougher adversaries who'd threatened and attacked her, but this encounter had battered her emotions. She'd had her heart rubbed in her worst fears about her son. Although she'd promised to help Sano with the murder investigation, and she knew that solving the crime was their best hope of freeing themselves and Masahiro, she didn't think she could bear to go on with it.

She looked at her hands: They were shaking. Even though the room was freezing cold, her clothes were damp with sweat. A headache pounded in her temples, and nerves twisted her stomach into a tight, nauseous coil.

Lilac added coal to the braziers. "It'll be warm soon."

"Thank you," Reiko murmured. Sick and dizzy, she doubled over to keep from fainting.

"What's the matter?" Lilac asked. "Don't you feel good? I'll get you something." She hurried from the room and returned with a ceramic jar and cup. Kneeling, she poured amber-colored liquid. "Here. Drink this."

Reiko took the cup and sniffed. Alcoholic fumes stung her nostrils. "What is it?"

"Native wine. Made from millet and rice. It'll make you feel better."

It could hardly make her feel any worse. Reiko drank it down. The liquor was tart and strong. It burned her throat, but her nausea abated, and a calming, sedative relief crept through her. "Thank you."

Lilac beamed, happy to be of service. As she took the cup from Reiko, their fingers touched. "Your hands are like ice. Here, let's warm them up." She pulled a brazier close to Reiko.

"You're very kind," Reiko said, gratefully holding her hands over the heat.

Yet she still didn't care much for Lilac. She felt the pressure of an ulterior motive behind the girl's kindness. But if the girl wanted to be useful, Reiko would give her the opportunity.

"What do you have to tell me that you couldn't when we were with Lady Matsumae?" Reiko asked.

Lilac's eyes sparkled with eagerness, but she hesitated. "I don't know if I should say."

"Why not?"

"I'll get in trouble if I talk about Lady Matsumae."

That was an understandable fear for a servant at the mercy of her mistress, but Reiko suspected a less admirable reason behind Lilac's sudden reticence. "In that case, I'd like to be by myself," she said, not in the mood for games. "You're dismissed."

As Lilac rose, she seemed torn between her need to keep quiet about what she knew and her wish to stay with Reiko. She said slowly, Lady Matsumae wasn't jealous about her husband. That's not why she hated Tekare."

Reiko motioned Lilac to sit. "Why did she?"

Lilac obeyed, although Reiko could see her calculating how to make the most of the least that she could tell. "It was what happened to her daughter."

The last thing Reiko wanted was to hear another story about Lady Matsumae's dead child, but it might illuminate a possible motive for the murder. "What happened?"

"When n.o.buko got sick, the j.a.panese doctors couldn't cure her. Lady Matsumae was desperate. Tekare was a shamaness. She was supposed to be able to cure diseases with magic. Lord Matsumae said to let her try to cure n.o.buko. Even though Lady Matsumae doesn't like the natives, she agreed. So Tekare performed a spell."

Lilac paused. Thoughts creased her brow. Reiko prompted, "What kind of spell?"

"A spell to drive off the evil spirit that was causing the sickness. Tekare burned a branch of spruce. She beat on a drum and sang prayers. She wrapped n.o.buko with bulrush cords. Then she cut them off with a knife. She said that would cut the spirit's power, so it couldn't hurt n.o.buko anymore. And she gave n.o.buko a potion to drink, to make her strong again."

"But she didn't get better," Reiko finished.

"She died the very next day. Tekare said it was because the spirit had too strong a hold on n.o.buko. Lord Matsumae believed her. But Lady Matsumae didn't. She said Tekare had put poison in the potion. She accused Tekare of murdering n.o.buko."

Surprise jarred Reiko. No wonder Lady Matsumae had laughed at the suggestion that she'd killed Tekare because the native woman had stolen her husband's affections. It was so far off the mark-if Lilac was telling the truth.

"Ask the other servants," Lilac said, noticing Reiko's distrust. "They'll tell you that's what happened."

"But why would Tekare have killed n.o.buko?" Reiko asked.

"You've seen how Lady Matsumae treats the Ezo women. Maybe Tekare wanted to get even with her."

"Badly enough to poison the child?" Incredulity filled Reiko.

"Tekare wasn't a nice person," Lilac said. "She didn't put up with Lady Matsumae or anybody else being mean to her. She could have done it."

"But to kill Lord Matsumae's daughter?" Reiko couldn't believe Tekare had dared kill the child of a man who was not only her lover but the ruler of her land.

Then she remembered another woman who'd tried to murder a child of another powerful man because of her cruel, sick hatred for the child's mother. A s.h.i.+ver rippled through Reiko, as it always did when she thought of Lady Yanagisawa, now exiled to Hachijo Island with her husband, the former chamberlain. She felt the same rage as on the day that Lady Yanagisawa had almost contrived Masahiro's death. Lady Matsumae's belief that Tekare had poisoned her daughter gave her a far better cause for murder than did s.e.xual jealousy.

"Lord Matsumae thought n.o.buko was going to die anyway," Lilac said. "Tekare knew he wouldn't have blamed her. And he didn't. He thought she could do no wrong."

Reiko shook her head, deploring the idea that Tekare had been a woman capable of such an atrocity, that Sano and Reiko were trying to get justice for a victim who hardly deserved it. "What was in that potion?"

"Native plants, I guess. Ezo shamanesses keep that kind of thing secret."

But even if Lady Matsumae was the murderer, how could Reiko prove it? She contemplated Lilac. "You spend a lot of time with Lady Matsumae, don't you?"

"Yes," the girl said. "She works me practically to death."

"Has she said anything to indicate that she killed Tekare?"

"Not that I heard. She's careful about talking in front of the servants."

But Reiko suspected that Lilac was adept at spying. "Did you see her do anything that looked suspicious?"

"No."

"On the day that Tekare died, did Lady Matsumae leave the castle?" Reiko said. To set the trap, she would have had to go to the path before nightfall.

I don't know. But I wasn't with her that whole day. I remember she sent me out shopping in town."

Perhaps to rid herself of a nosy witness, Reiko thought. Or perhaps to cover for someone who'd set the trap for her. "What about her ladies-in-waiting? Did they go out?"

"I don't know."

Frustration slid Reiko's spirits downward. Even though she'd discovered a new, strong possible motive for the murder, she was back where she'd been when she'd left Lady Matsumae-with four suspects and no evidence. Even though somebody in the castle might have seen one of them sneaking outside, spring-bow in hand, how could Reiko search for a witness while she had such limited freedom?

She said in desperation, "Lilac, do you know anything else?"

The girl's gaze slithered away from Reiko.

"What is it?"

Thoughts flitted across Lilac's face. She toyed with a patch on her coat. The threads were coming loose.

"Tell me!" Reiko ordered, bursting with impatience.

"Suppose I do." Lilac put one word slowly after another, as if giving herself time to think. She watched Reiko from the corners of her eyes. "If I tell you, what will you do for me?"

Here it was, the real reason Lilac had at first balked at revealing the story about Lady Matsumae: She wanted to barter her knowledge for personal gain. She didn't want to throw it away for the mere sake of helping Reiko. Although Reiko disapproved of the girl's attempt at extortion, she was in no position to resist.

"I'll do anything you ask," she said. "Just name it."