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ally. “He granted the request, but intends to hold Father Mateo responsible if Sayuri cannot prove her innocence. He threatened to execute them both in two days’ time.”
    The magistrate raised a hand and rubbed his chin. “Most unfortunate indeed. I assume you came to ask me to intervene.”
    Hiro nodded.
    “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. Had the murder occurred within Pontocho, I could order Nobuhide not to touch the foreign priest, but the Sakura Teahouse lies outside his jurisdiction. His authority there stems from his status as Hideyoshi’s son. I cannot control his actions in that capacity, and, as you know, the law permits a samurai to avenge his father’s death.”
    “I also know that the death of a foreign priest could complicate the shogun’s relations with the Portuguese,” Hiro said.
    The magistrate nodded. “I will speak with Nobuhide and see what I can do.”
    “You can do nothing.”
    Hiro spun around with his hand on his sword, chastising himself for letting down his guard. Nobuhide stood by the supplicants’ entrance, face and forehead red with ill-contained rage. He bowed perfunctorily to the magistrate.
    “I have the legal right to avenge my father.” Nobuhide pointed at Father Mateo. “This man inserted himself into a private matter. He chose to assist the woman. For all I know, he helped her commit the crime.”
    “Ridiculous,” Hiro snorted. “He was at home all night. I was there.”
    “He could have helped her plan, or given her the weapon,” Nobuhide said. “Doesn’t the other Portuguese sell firearms?”
    “Enough!” The magistrate thumped his hands on his desk.
    He looked at each man in turn. His hand crept back to his chin, and he rubbed it as he thought his way through the problem. The gesture suggested uncertainty, but when the magistrate spoke his voice conveyed both confidence and regret. “If you cannot prove the girl innocent within the allotted time, I cannot stop Nobuhide from taking vengeance.”
    He shifted his gaze to the young samurai. “But I can require you to cooperate with their investigation. You may not interfere with their efforts in any way.
    “Have I made myself clear?”
    Nobuhide scowled but bowed in assent. As he turned to leave, he pointed at Hiro and said, “Sakura Teahouse, noon, two days from now. Make sure the priest is there.”
    He stalked from the room, feet thumping the wooden floor.
    “I wish I could do more,” the magistrate told Hiro. “Justice is in your hands now.”

 
     
    Chapter 6
     
    As they left the magistrate’s compound, Hiro asked Father Mateo, “Have you got a plan?”
    “A plan?”
    “Yes, to find the killer.”
    The Jesuit ran his hand through his hair. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.”
    “I didn’t think so,” Hiro said. “You should leave Kyoto. Nobuhide cannot kill what he cannot find.”
    “Run away? I have to help Sayuri prove her innocence.”
    “Assuming she is innocent,” Hiro said, “which is far from certain. The bloody footprints in the room were a perfect match to her tiny feet.”
    “She might have walked in blood by mistake.”
    Hiro gave the priest a disbelieving look. No one should take trust and forgiveness that far.
    “How many Japanese willfully touch defiling blood?” Hiro asked. “If Sayuri didn’t commit the murder she is certainly an accomplice.”
    They turned left past the police compound and followed Shij ō Road back toward the river. A gentle breeze fluttered the indigo noren in the doorways, indicating the shops had opened for business. Meaty scents wafted across the road, and Hiro’s mouth watered at the thought of fresh stuffed buns. He looked for the bun shop but didn’t see it.
    “Sayuri couldn’t kill a man,” Father Mateo said. “She’s just a girl.”
    The words brought Hiro back from his hungry reverie. “Japanese women are stronger than they seem, and entertainers are trained to feign innocence.”
    “But Sayuri is a