Above the waterfront, the moon shone softly white, its edges hazy in the moist air. Lamps burned in the harbor patrol station and on a barge on the water. Nightwatchmen paced by the warehouses, their wooden clappers punctuating the ocean’s murmur with sharp clacks: All was well. Patrol officers strolled the promenade and docks. Soldiers drove oxcarts laden with cannon and ammunition for a possible battle against the Dutch ship. Sano avoided notice by staying in the shadows beneath the eaves of closed teahouses and shops as he worked his way down the promenade toward Deshima. Not knowing who might be involved in illicit activities there, he couldn’t trust anyone.

A hundred paces from the guardhouse, he sprinted across the road. He darted between two warehouses and followed a dank passage to the water’s edge, where a dock jutted into the harbor. It was the last one before Deshima, and gave an unobstructed view of the island’s water gates. Sano looked around. Seeing no one, he tiptoed to the edge of the dock.

A rowboat was moored to a piling. It appeared empty, except for what looked to be an old blanket spread on the bottom. Sano lowered himself into the boat. His feet had just touched the blanket, when suddenly it shifted under him. He bit back a cry of surprise and shot backward onto the dock. Sword drawn, he leapt to his feet. In the boat, a human figure sat up and threw off the blanket. The moonlight caught the man’s face. Sano’s relief turned to anger.

“Hirata, what are you doing here?” he demanded in a loud, furious whisper.

The young retainer bowed, clutching a jitte in one hand. “Gomen nasai—forgive me for startling you,” he whispered back. “I’m waiting to catch the mysterious lights.”

“I told you to stay away from Deshima.” Sano jammed his sword back into its sheath. “Now get out of that boat and go home.”

“But sōsakan-sama—”

A sharp clacking silenced his protest. Sano turned and saw a light between the warehouses. Instantly he was off the dock and in the boat with Hirata, who threw the blanket over them. They lay tense in suffocating darkness while the dock creaked under the watchman’s footsteps. Sano inhaled the blanket’s musty odor and hoped the watchman wouldn’t inspect the boat. He didn’t want a scene that might chase away the mysterious lights and suspend the events they signaled, or his actions reported to the authorities.

The watchman’s footsteps retreated. Sano sighed in relief, then emerged with Hirata from beneath the blanket.

“I’m not leaving you,” Hirata whispered. “I found witnesses who saw Abbot Liu Yun near the harbor the night Director Spaen disappeared. The townspeople say he’s a powerful sorcerer who performs magic in the marketplace during festivals. He could be the one who makes the lights. If he’s the killer, you mustn’t face him alone.”