“I need a complete dossier on the Ono boy’s family. Canvass the shops and moneylenders and find out what debts they owe.” A phlegmy cough interrupted the orders. “Check the pleasure quarter and see if the boy has a mistress there. Visit his superior and ask if he’s likely to rise any higher. Then find out who his friends are, and if they’ve ever been in trouble with the law.”

Hirata’s spirits lifted with anticipation. If that was Madam Kihara speaking, she must know everything there was to know about people whose marriages she arranged. He followed the servant to the reception room. Its paper wall glowed with yellow lamplight. A samurai wearing the Kihara crest came out. The servant ushered Hirata inside and announced, “Master Watanabe Monemon to see you, Madam,” using the alias Hirata had supplied.

The room was very bright, very warm, and filled with smoke. Oil lamps burned on a low table, and charcoal braziers radiated heat. Hirata’s wet clothes began to steam. A squat, sallow woman perhaps sixty years of age, Madam Kihara knelt amid heaped cushions, sewing supplies, and a half-finished silk embroidery showing quail in a meadow. Her round face was wrinkled like a salted plum. The smoke came from her long silver pipe, which she held clenched in one corner of a smile from which several of her cosmetically blackened teeth were missing.

“So you’re looking for a bride, young master?” Madam Kihara rasped. Bowing, she motioned for Hirata to kneel opposite her, which he did. “Some refreshment?”

Along with the lamps, tobacco container, and matches, the table held a teapot, cups, and a plate of rice cakes. Though both tea and cakes tasted of smoke, Hirata ate and drank gratefully, comforted by Madam Kihara’s presence. She reminded him of his aunt, who also smoked and sometimes acted as a matchmaker. Hirata wondered sadly if he would ever see her, or his other relatives, again.

Madam Kihara regarded him quizzically. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, puffing on her pipe. “Usually I only arrange marriages as a favor to people I know. What is your family?”

To avoid having to create a fictional background and direct the conversation to his real purpose, Hirata said, “Even though you’re not acquainted with me or my family, there is a connection between us. I knew Chief Interpreter Iishino when we were young. We—studied with the same tutor for a while,” he improvised, not wanting to claim too close a relationship. He also hoped Madam Kihara would overlook the ten-year age difference between him and Iishino, which weakened the story. “I understand you arranged his marriage, so I came hoping you could help me.”