“I see I’ve not misjudged you, Sōsakan Sano,” Judge Takeda said. His colleagues murmured a grudging assent. Takeda and the retainers drew their swords. “It will be our pleasure to help capture these criminals.”

“Wait,” Sano cautioned, seeing lights beyond the left side of the hall. Through a gate in the temple wall came a parade of samurai, some lugging crates, others holding torches. From the opposite direction, two more samurai led a group of cloaked, hatted men without swords. They all converged on the hall’s entrance, where Nirin beckoned impatiently.

“Let them get inside,” Sano whispered, counting at least ten samurai outside the hall. How many more were inside? The unarmed commoners might not pose much threat, but still his party was outnumbered. Sano doubted whether the smugglers would surrender any more easily than Miochin and the body thieves had. He expected Ohira to be useless in a battle, Judges Segawa and Dazai not much better. That left Takeda—an old man; Hirata—exhausted after three days as a fugitive; four retainers of questionable swordsmanship skill; and himself, with his wounds. The element of surprise was their only advantage.

The new arrivals entered the hall. Nirin followed, closing the door. One samurai remained on the veranda as a lookout. The chants of frogs and crickets filled the sudden hush. Sano said, “Takeda-san, you and I and two of your retainers will storm the door. Hirata, take the other two and go around front. Clear the entrance. Wait until you hear me, then come in.”

Hirata and his team slipped away into the darkness. “What about us?” Judge Segawa said, cowering beside Dazai. “We don’t want to go in there.” Pointing to Chief Ohira, he added, “And what about him?”

Sano made a quick decision. “You stay here.” He would have no time to defend them, and he didn’t trust the chief not to sabotage the raid. “Make sure Ohira doesn’t leave. And keep him quiet.”

“How will we get past the sentry?” Takeda asked.

Sano picked up a rock. He heaved it into the darkness to the right of the hall, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. The rock landed with a clatter. This was the oldest trick in history, but it worked. The sentry turned toward the sound, then went to investigate. Sano crept out from behind the pavilion and followed.

In a garden, the sentry stood with his back to Sano, looking for the source of the noise. Sano stole up behind the sentry and clapped both hands hard against the man’s ears. The sentry reeled, then collapsed, unconscious. Sano untied the man’s sash, tore it into three lengths, then bound and gagged him. Hopefully Hirata was having similar luck with the sentry at the front door. Sano returned to Takeda.

“Let’s go.”