Moving closer, he began unwrapping the bundle. He must have been at the party downstairs; Peony could smell liquor and tobacco smoke on him. Now a gleeful anticipation dispelled her uneasiness. She smiled and held out her hands. She started to thank him.

Then he flung the cloth aside. Instead of the money she’d expected, Peony saw a knife in his hand, and read the evil intent in his eyes. A gasp sucked the words back into her throat. Triumph turned to horror. She stumbled backward, raising her clasped hands in a plea for mercy.

“No, please, just take it and go,” she babbled.

Unspeaking, he advanced until her back hit the wall. Then he lashed out at her.

The knife’s long, gleaming blade slashed Peony’s throat. Pain seared her vision. She tried to scream for help, but managed only a gurgle. A warm, salty liquid filled her mouth. She clutched at the wound; blood poured over her hands. A dizzying weakness flooded her muscles. She slid down the wall and landed in a crumpled heap. Through her terror, she saw him turning away, crouching to reach inside the box.

Then darkness obliterated external sights and sounds. Peony could hear the relentless thud of her heart, pumping blood out of her body. She was eight years old again, running down an alley with a stolen doll in her arms. She’d gotten away safely, then. But this time, a horde of furious soldiers, police, and townspeople pounded after her. She ran faster. Then strong hands grabbed her, pulling her deeper into darkness. She heard her heartbeat fading.

She, the nimble, clever thief, could not escape death.

16

十六

Sedated by the medicine Old Carp had given him, Sano slept until late afternoon the next day. Recalling the Dutch captain’s ultimatum, he dressed hastily and ordered his horse saddled, anxious to make up for lost time. Then he rode out the gate, into a vastly altered climate.

The wind had died; the sun glared from a hazy sky. Upon the ocean’s flat metallic expanse, anchored ships sat motionless, sails limp, while barges and fishing boats moved sluggishly. Moisture saturated the warm air, muting the street noises and enriching the odors of sea, fish, and sewage. The hills closed in on the city, shutting out fresh breezes. Yet more than the weather had changed for Sano. Overnight, Nagasaki had turned hostile. Someone had tried to kill him. Now Sano warily scanned the crowds as he rode, ready to draw his sword or dodge arrows. Beneath the bandages, his injured shoulder was sore, stiff, and incapable of maneuvering a sword with his usual expertise. Blood loss had drained his strength. And Nagasaki’s administration had turned against him.