Dawn. The rising sun was a smear of orange in the vaporous sky, like a carp swimming in a murky pond. The fire was out, and the mansion’s blackened skeleton stood amid a wet mass of soot, ashes, charred boards, and ruined furniture. From the wreckage of the servants’ quarters, Sano and the fire brigade unearthed ten partially burnt but still recognizable corpses: cook, housekeeper, gardener, stableboy, five maids—and Old Carp. Mournfully Sano wrapped the servant’s body in a cloth provided by a neighborhood shrine. He bent his head and murmured a prayer for Old Carp’s soul. Then, as eta corpse handlers conveyed the dead to the city morgue, Sano collapsed wearily against the earthen wall.

His head and chest hurt; violent coughs brought up thick, salty phlegm. Raw, red burns on his arms and legs ached with a fierce heat. He was lucky to have survived Japan’s most feared but all too common natural disaster, and for the first time thankful for Hirata’s absence. Wherever he was, at least he’d not died in the fire. But pain and despair overwhelmed Sano as he tried to summon the energy to resume the fight against his enemies.

The fire brigade commander was walking through the ruins, muttering while he inspected them. A new sense of unease disturbed Sano. He rose and joined the commander.

“I’ve never known a natural fire to burn so hot and fast under these conditions,” the commander said. “It rained most of yesterday; the moisture should have kept the flames from spreading. The weather was too warm for charcoal braziers. And I don’t think the fire was caused by a lamp or candle accidentally left burning, either.”

“Then it was arson?” Sano said.

“I’d stake my honor on it.” The commander pointed upward. “Roof and ceilings totally destroyed. Only structural components left are interior ones.” He kicked a pile of fallen beams and joists. “The fire moved down from the outside of the house to the inside, opposite the usual way. And look at this.”

He picked up a charred plank and handed it to Sano, who noted the greasy residue on the unburnt portion. “Lamp oil,” he said. His heart plummeted, and fury enveloped his spirit.

“Poured over the roof,” the commander clarified, “then lit.”