He reached for his sword. Sano grabbed Ohira’s hand before the chief could unsheathe the blade. The conviction in Ohira’s voice made him wonder again whether Ohira might be innocent. The chief was strict with his staff, his civilian subjects, and the Dutch. Sano knew that clever subordinates often worked illicit schemes right before an unsuspecting superior’s eyes. Still, he didn’t believe that Ohira, who seemed able and intelligent, could have been totally unaware of what was happening on Deshima.

Sano tightened his grip on Ohira. The chief’s bony, feverish fingers possessed a determination that compensated for physical weakness. Locked together, their hands shuddered on the hilt of the sword.

“Where were you when Jan Spaen disappeared?” Sano demanded.

Ohira strained to pull the sword free. “Let go, and fight like a samurai!”

Sano grabbed Ohira’s other hand before it could reach his short sword. “Did Peony see something that made her dangerous to you?” He shoved the chief against the wall, savoring the release of anger. He was sick of his countrymen’s treachery, which made them no better than the barbarians they despised and with whom they had conspired. “Did you kill her?”

“Peony committed suicide.” As Ohira struggled, his breath exuded the sour reek of illness. “And I never go near that disgusting pleasure quarter.”

“Did you order the Deshima guards to shoot me? Where were you last night?”

“Traitor! Coward! Are you afraid to fight without your foreign allies to help you?”

Goaded by the worst insults anyone could inflict upon a samurai, Sano felt combat lust assail him like a typhoon. He wanted to draw his sword and do battle. Then he saw the sick, gloating triumph in Ohira’s eyes: The chief wouldn’t mind dying in a duel, ending his misery. However, killing one of his accusers would land Sano in jail for murder, depriving him of the chance to exonerate himself and Hirata, to serve truth and justice.

Sano tore the swords from Ohira’s waist. He threw them across the room, and the chief to the floor. “Answer me!” he shouted while he fought his anger. One more day until the Dutch captain’s deadline; two more days of freedom. Could he keep temper from overcoming wisdom for that long?

Ohira fell with a crash that must have hurt, but when he rose, his icy dignity betrayed no pain and acknowledged no defeat. “I was in my office on Deshima on the occasions you mention, surrounded by my staff. And I can assure you I gave no orders to shoot you.”

Just then the curtains parted. In walked the Deshima second watch commander. “Honorable Chief,” Nirin said, “we must talk.” He did not appear to notice that his superior wasn’t alone; the room was dim, and Ohira stood between Sano and the door. “What happened last night changes everything, and I need new orders about—”