The Fox's Quest (15 page)

Domi turned to her. “Please come with me and show me the way to your friends.”

Ah? I’m sorry, I don’t quite underst— What! How did he do that?

Sanae stared at the spot where Domi had previously been. He’d disappeared, gone to the other side.

“Go help him, Sanae. He probably can’t find people the way you do.” Could Domi even move two people or would it take two trips?

“Life hasn’t been this interesting in years,” Toshishiro said with a near-toothless smile. “Right, Nomi?” He nodded, as if in response to something his familiar said. ”Indeed, indeed.”

Jien inquired, “How is the trainee Saji? Has he been visited again?”

“He’s clean. I was given to understand the demon most likely to have been responsible for the earlier visitations died at your friends’ hands.”

“I see.” He needed Sanae to tell him the news directly, and soon. There was evidently a great deal of it.

They drank tea while they waited, emptying the entire pot before Jien began to feel worried. Shouldn’t they be back by now? It had seemed almost instantaneous when he’d come with Domi… Oh, right. They’d appeared outside the city, away from people. Domi might not be able to reappear directly here, in the middle of a building.

This, Jien explained to Toshishiro, who nodded as if a human being able to move people through the spiritual realm was perfectly normal. “What a useful ability.”

The old man went back to staring vacantly into thin air, occasionally laughing. Crazy Toshi, indeed.

“Maybe I should go and try to locate them,” Jien said.

Popping in, Sanae yelled,
Get dragon drinks to the north gate! Domi’s collapsed and his heart is hardly beating! He’s had an overdose of spiritual energy! Be quick!

Dragon drinks were tonic potions strengthened with dragon eggshell, the kind of drink given to people who were weak from illness or other injury and needed help to recover. If an illness couldn’t be identified, people who could afford its price usually defaulted to dragon drink.

The Great Temples had large supplies of the drinks, which were made with the eggshells of dragons born on the premises. Having many monks with dragons living together ensured eggs were laid every spring, and thus their supply renewed itself.

Jien burst in the storage room. “I need dragon drinks now!”

The frail monk on duty pulled two bottles from a shelf in a swift, practiced motion. Brush poised above paper to record the answer, he asked, “Who for?”

“Old Toshishiro’s heart is misbehaving,” Jien said, the lie coming easy.

The old monk blinked. “Toshi? He’s never been ill in his entire life. He must finally be getting old. Hurry and get it to him. Heart troubles can’t wait.”

Grabbing the bottles, Jien spun on his heels and set off as if a bear were chasing him. Which, incidentally, was something that had happened to him once.

The north gate was close to the Great Eastern Temple, but there was a great deal of traffic in between. He had to shove a few slow people aside on the way—and stop to yell at a samurai standing in the middle of the street.

“Health emergency, you bastard! Can’t recognize dragon drinks when you see them? If you want to get beaten up, meet me at the Eastern Temple tonight!”

Using his spear as a pole, he vaulted over spilled goods blocking the street while the owner engaged in a shouting match with persons he apparently held responsible for the spill.

“Coming through,” Jien barked at them. “Move!”

He arrived before his pumping lungs exploded, finding a pale Domi propped up between Akakiba and Yuki. City guards stood by with looks of concern on their faces, as if worried they’d be blamed if a death occurred on their watch.

“Dragon drink,” Jien gasped, handing over the first bottle.

Akakiba seized it, shook it, and poured it down Domi’s throat.

“Don’t drown me,” the hermit said, pushing the bottle away. “I’m well.”

“Oh, yes,” Jien snapped when he had the breath to do so. “Your bloodless face, feverish eyes, and inability to stand on your own legs make you look ‘well’ indeed! What were you thinking? You didn’t have to bring them all the way if it was too hard on you!”

A faint smile played on Domi’s lips. “I know my limits, I assure you. I only pushed as hard as was needed. If you look down the road, what do you see?”

“A rider, so?” Shielding his eyes from the dazzling sunshine with a hand, he squinted at the figure. “Wait… Is that Marin? You have impressive timing.”

“Thank you. Now, if everyone could please play along…”

They listened intently as Domi outlined what he wanted.

“It’s ridiculous,” Akakiba said.

Yuki gave him a look. “We owe this man for his help.”

“I’m aware. I’ll try.”

Jien sighed. “So my role is to not be here. Very well, I’ll be hiding over there.”

From his hidden position inside the nearest building—the seller stared but didn’t ask why a monk was hiding in his shop—Jien watched the ensuing show.

Marin gaped. “Domi? How?”

It’s your fault,
Sanae snarled from her mist-form.
This idiot used spirit energy to get here before you. The strain damaged his heart.

“You fool!” Marin threw herself down to press her ear to Domi’s chest. “Why couldn’t you let me do as I wished?”

“I happen to agree this sword needs to be kept away from the general public, Marin. My health is nothing compared to the well being of thousands.”

“I happen to disagree,” she shot back, face flushed. Her hands fluttered above Domi’s body. “What do you need? What can I do?”

“This would help,” Akakiba said in a stilted voice, displaying the second bottle Jien had brought. “Dragon drink, heavily spiked with dragon egg shell. These days, their price is counted in gold. We can trade.” His gaze flicked to the sword on Marin’s back.

“I can find my own, bully!”

“Oh? You have gold to buy it? Or do you think you have time to sell the sword and buy this before his heart gives out? It’s weak at the moment. It might stop beating without warning.”

Marin’s fingers twitched against her sash, under which weapons were likely hidden.

Go ahead and try us,
Sanae said.
We’ll call you possessed and your death will bother no one here. Then who’ll take care of him?

Domi coughed and wheezed, clutching his chest.

Marin quivered. The sword landed at Akakiba’s feet, thrown violently. “Give it to me!”

Akakiba tossed it into her hands. “Shake it. The powder tends to gather at the bottom. Half should be taken now, the rest later tonight.”

Afterwards, Marin slid under Domi’s arm and helped him away. “We’ll find you a nice inn to rest.”

“Samurai business is weird,” one of the city guards said.

“Better than
kabuki
,” the other answered.

“That was an interestingly short trip,” Yuki said, stopping by Jien’s hiding place. “Are you coming?”

“I have to wait for Aito. He was chasing Marin on horseback. He’ll be angry when he gets here and I’m the lucky man who has to handle it.” He blinked as he noticed the big pack on Yuki’s back. “Hey, where are your horses?”

“Turned them free because Domi couldn’t bring them. Akakiba swears they’ll be fine.”

Jien peered closer at the younger boy, wondering why he looked so drawn. “Where’s your dragon? He couldn’t come either?”

Yuki looked away. “He stayed behind. We’re not bonded anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Human-dragon bonds were strong, everybody knew that. Humans never took it well when they lost their bond companion. “Will you be all right?”

Yuki sighed and walked away without answering.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Akakiba

T
he road from Nara to Kyoto was short, travel time counted in hours rather than days or weeks. Here, winter weather meant seeing an occasional dusting of snow on the ground, not life-threatening temperatures like in the mountains.

They were four, five if Sanae was to be counted. They’d left Domi and Marin behind in an inn where they would be made comfortable until such time as Domi chose to stop playing the critically ill man and decided to head home.

Among their supplies was the copy sword Jien and Aito had recovered, because it was the copy the miscreants had been hired to bring to Kyoto. The other copy and the original sword were left in the hands of Toshishiro, who’d keep them hidden until they decided what to do with them. Freeing the energy trapped within the original sword and its copies would be good, but how could it be done safely? Nobody wanted to inadvertently worsen the situation or cause an explosion that might flatten the temple.

They found shelter at an inn, one of several on this well-traveled road, where there were hot baths to fight the chill and a varied menu to entice even the most depressed appetite.

The company was unusually quiet. Jien’s attempts at conversation fell flat for lack of anyone willing to engage and Sanae’s ears dropped every time she glanced at Yuki.

Akakiba had a feeling nothing he could say to Yuki about his dragon would be welcome. He tried to breach the subject with Sanae, drawing her in a quiet corner.

“Can’t you cheer him? He likes you.”

Brother, I’ll remind you it’s my fault he’s lost the bond with Drac. He’s had a part of him torn out. Time will mend the wound, not empty words.

“A distraction would help.”

Very well.
Sanae made a show of bounding down the hallway, which was thankfully empty of clueless humans at the moment.
Hey, Yuki! Done bathing yet? I have a funny story. Come over!

Once they’d gathered round the low table, Sanae perched on it and gathered her multiple tails around her.
I heard this one in a drinking house.
It’s almost accurate! Listen…

A long time ago, when monstrous demons roamed the land and a fox spirit’s strength was known by the number of its tails, there lived a man of great standing and power who made dangerous enemies.

One enemy hired
shinobi
, masters of disguise and assassination, to poison the man’s wife. The man remarried, for he only had one son, but the
shinobi
came again on his wedding night. The man woke to the smell of blood and found his new wife lying in his arms with her throat cut.

When this became known, none would offer the man a daughter in marriage, for surely she too would meet an unfortunate end.

Afraid for his sole son and his legacy, angry with his shadowy and dishonorable enemies, the man turned to the strongest clan of the province: the Fox clan, home to fearless demon hunters. “I have heard your daughters are strong and fierce,” he wrote. “That they will face bandits and demons without fear and slay both without hesitation. I beg you to grant me a daughter of your clan, for no other can survive the assassins.”

Knowing this to be true, the Fox clan agreed. They sent a young woman of great skills with weapons.

“Let them come and try me,” she said on their wedding night, and her eyes were filled with anticipation.

The man could hardly sleep, holding his new bride close. His bravest warriors were guarding the room; his best watchers were on the walls. He battled sleep all night long, falling prey to it near dawn.

When he woke, he found his fox wife brushing her long hair not far from the fallen body of a man clad in dark clothing. The would-be assassin lay with a hairpin stuck deep in his eye.

“My wife,” he cried in astonishment, “you did this?”

“Fool be he who dares to raise a hand against a daughter of the Fox clan.”

They hung the assassin’s corpse on the gate, so all would know he had failed. No more
shinobi
came.

In those times, the world often saw war and devastation. When humans did not fight terrible demons or the occasional dragon gone mad, they fought one another mercilessly for land and power. The powerful man was no exception. He fought many a battle, his son at his side so he might learn to lead.

After a terrible and bloody battle, the man returned home with great anguish, bearing his badly wounded son. The son’s spine was broken and no human could heal him. They carried him to healing springs where good spirits were known to dwell, but the spirits shied away from the scent of battle and blood and none would help.

Before long, everyone had abandoned the son, thinking of him as a dead man. Only the fox wife, his stepmother, cared for him. She bathed his broken body, brought his meals, and read to him.

“Why do you do this for me?” the son asked. “Why should I not die in truth as I have already died in my father’s heart? There is but one honorable solution for me.”

“Your mother would allow no such thing to happen. Since she is gone and I am not, I will do for you what I would wish another to do for a child of mine.”

“A samurai unable to walk is a disgrace,” he spoke in despair. “I can do nothing.”

‘Wash the blood from your mind and the good spirits may choose to help.”

The son took heart at her words. He began to spend his days writing poetry and had a monk brought to him so he might study matters of the soul.

The fox wife shortly found herself with child. She went to her husband with the news, saying, “Husband, I bear life within me. I must return to my clan.”

In those times, the Fox clan was fiercely defensive of their secrets, for supernatural blood ran in their veins. When they allowed a daughter to wed outside the clan, it was always with the understanding all children would be born and raised in the Fox clan. They would return to their father at the age of adulthood, but only if they were needed for the succession.

The man grew angry. “You may carry my only heir and you wish to take him from me? I refuse! My heir will be raised in his father’s house, as is proper!”

The fox wife bowed stiffly to her husband’s will. “The consequences will be yours to bear.”

She knew her husband would not change his mind, for she had come to know him as a hard man who cared for little else than his own glory and power. She also knew she could not allow her child to be born here. If she could not escape, her duty would be to end her life—and her child’s—to preserve her clan’s secrets. The hard man could not be trusted with such secrets. She watched the men guarding her rooms and waited for her chance.

She thought of many plans, either too dangerous to her child or too likely to betray her secret. As her belly rounded, her fear grew. She begged her husband to let her go, to no avail. She tried to find a fox to be her messenger, but she was kept away from the forest where they dwelled.

Her time was running out and she had no solution. She wept in her sleeves, afraid it was too late to save the life growing within her. “I must try to escape, even if I shall surely perish in the attempt. There are too many guards and I am slow and heavy.”

The paralyzed son, for whom she cared still, was filled with sorrow at her plight. “If I could walk, I would take you away from this place.”

She looked into his eyes and saw only truth and kindness. “Do you swear on your honor?”

“I swear.”

She watched him intently. “If I reveal to you our clan’s secrets, will you keep them in your heart forever?”

“I swear.”

“If I restore your legs, will you take my child to my clan?”

The son was astonished by the certainty in her voice. “Do the daughters of your clan have such great powers? I swear.”

“I believe you trustworthy. For you I will give up one of my tails.”

Under the son’s eyes, she turned into a beautiful fox with a smooth red coat and dainty paws. Behind her rose not one but three tails, and he knew her then for a being of legends, a fox spirit.

Jumping on his chest, she touched her muzzle to his forehead. Strange warmth filled him, spreading from his forehead to the rest of his body. Wherever the warmth went, feeling and strength returned to him. He commanded his legs, feet, and toes to move, and all obeyed.

“Thank you, fox lady, thank you,” he said in joy, tears on his cheeks. He spoke low, for he knew guards stood at the door and he’d promised to keep her secret.

The fox showed no joy: she lay panting on the floor, for the effort of healing him had induced early labor. She had but two bushy tails left, the third a stump.

A tiny kit came forth, almost ugly in its nudity, and fed at its mother’s teats.

Take her to my clan
, the fox commanded in his thoughts.
Take her to safety.

“My father has broken his promise to your clan. He knows he cannot let them learn of it. He may hurt you if he comes to understand where I have gone.”

Fear not for me. I will fight for my life if I must. Save my daughter.

The son thought a moment. “I have a plan. I will hide your daughter in a basket full of offerings. Tell the servants I wish to be brought to the healing spring again, to see if the good spirit has decided to help me. When I am there, I will take the basket and run.”

The son lay down and pretended to be injured still. The wife returned to her human shape and used a cushion to make it seem she was still with child.

It went as planned: the son was borne away to the healing spring and there asked to be left alone to beg the spirit’s mercy. Then he rose on his healed legs, dressed hastily, and took to the forest with the basket in which a fox kit slept.

He sold the items in the offering basket and used the money to buy a horse. When he arrived at the Fox clan house, it was in a state of exhaustion. In his hands, he held a kit crying with hunger.

Upon hearing what had befallen one of theirs, the Fox clan took up arms and went to war. The powerful man’s castle burned. The wife was saved and the daughter grew safe.

As for the son, who had saved two lives but betrayed his father, he joined the order of monk warriors that dwelled in the mountain. He later became a liaison between the order and the Fox clan, helping to forge an alliance between them. So it was the Fox clan won its closest allies in the fight against demons.

See? Isn’t it oddly accurate?
Sanae said.

“It is,” Akakiba allowed, “besides the part with the multiple tails. Although…” He tilted his head at Sanae’s five tails. “It might be mangled truth.”

“Is this a story leaked from your clan?” Yuki wondered. He wore an inn-provided
yukata
, his damp hair in the process of drying and taking volume. It hadn’t been so long ago that baby Drac, yet unnamed, hid in that mop of brown hair. The dragon had been cute then, before it grew up, learned speech, and became competition for Yuki’s attention. But the dragon was no longer a problem.

He answered Yuki’s question, to encourage his interest. “If it had originated from our clan, we would have heard it from our parents. But I can’t recall a story remotely like this.”

Sanae pranced.
It gets better! The man who narrated the story claimed he was a descendent of the miraculously healed son in the story. I wonder if the Great Temples keep good records? We could investigate.

“You mean it could be a true story?” Yuki leaned forward. “Is it like that for your women? They marry away, but have to come back to give birth?” He paused, expression disturbed. “Do they truly give birth to kits?”

Amusement pulled at the corners of Akakiba’s lips. “A fox gives birth to foxes and a human gives birth to humans. The young learn to shift early, but not that early. For the women, well…” For the sake of encouraging Yuki’s attention on this light and safe topic, he explained, “It used to be we let daughters go to powerful houses, to build kinship links. Neighboring clans have a bit of our blood here and there in their ancestry. These days we marry to humans with greater frequency to improve our fertility rate, but we favor humans of modest background and with older siblings to ensure their families won’t fight us for the children.”

“But the women still have to go and pretend to be human wives.” Yuki eyed him sideways. “Is that what your mother wanted you to do?”

So much for a “light and safe” topic. He rose abruptly. “I’ll go and ask for tea.”

“You get angry when I ask questions,” Yuki said to his back. “But if you don’t answer, how am I supposed to understand?”

He halted. That was a fair point. Curse it. He could have left regardless, but... This was his chance to try and make up. Drac was gone and there was nothing left to harm their friendship except his own cursed stubbornness. If Yuki only wanted to understand… Maybe it wouldn’t end in complete disaster. Maybe it wouldn’t end the way it had with Jien, all those years ago.

Turning round, he realized Sanae had left the room. When, he couldn’t say. Sneaky girl.