Carrying a few seditious lines on leaves of rice paper was enough evidence by itself to convict me of treason. I had lately shown myself indifferent enough to death, but of torture—I was more afraid than I had ever been. And so, I supposed the risk I then bore in carrying a Princess’ anonymous communication entitled me to break the seal and peruse its contents.

This was what I had wanted, after all. This was the access to information I had risked my life to gain. I must for once discover where of the subtle currents of power were carrying me—where the same currents had lead Ansei. I did love the Princess, but I couldn’t live only to serve her. Putting questions of loyalty aside, I needed information to preserve my life and the lives of those who meant more to me than my own.

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I wandered far from the palace, through a market, and far along a string of narrow streets before I dared think of breaking the seal and reading the letter’s contents. Once broken, I thought I could melt the simple seal again with the help of a little flame, but I had to find a lamp first. I cast my gaze around me. In such a dim quarter of the city, lamps ought to abound.

A tiny teahouse to my left would have a kitchen. If unattended, I might sneak inside and light a twig on the fire. I ducked into the alley behind the house, held my breath and slowly broke the seal, then stared at the salutation.

It began: Dearest Ansei.