The Way of the Fox (41 page)

“I do not believe that I can eat this.” She swallowed. “
Is there anything that has less… feet?”

Sura prodded at a shellfish. “We have bivalves.”

The shellfish clamped shut its shell. Chiri pushed it away. “Is there anything less… alive?”

Sura sifted about
for the great sashimi platter. She set it in the middle of the table. “Alright! Here we go – genuine sliced fish. It’s raw, it’s wet, but it has definitely

stopped breathing
its last.”

Chiri was hypnotised by the appalling expression on the fish’s face.

“It’s staring at me!”

“We’ll ditch the head! There, see? The head is gone.” Sura hastily hid the unwanted fish parts. “Seafood! There we are.
Alright – raw fish – it’s a tradition. Here I am, embracing local tradition. Now eat up – you can all stop complaining.”

There was rice, and sauces. Sura dipped the fish, and found it to be not so ba
d. She would frankly have preferred grilling a chunk of dead cow, but humans seemed to be a bit unhappy about the carnivorous side of fox cuisine. Sura made a great show of eating the raw fish, and made sure that Kuno and Chiri were both served with choice slices.

“Now see? We came somewhere we’ve never been before, and we’re having a new experience. We are growing. Growth is good.”

Kuno had grown up with sashimi: river fish of all kinds were part of daily fare. He ate carefully and with his usual perfect grace. “We can embrace new experiences. I merely wish your enthusiasms would not lead you to excess.”

“Exuberance is merely embracing the Tao!”

“What of balance?”

“I am balanced in my exuberance!” Sura shovelled some rice. “
Look – we
need
to eat sea creatures! There is nothing in that ocean that doesn’t hate us! Everything in there wants to bite you, sting you, or burrow into your urethral tract. Pure hate! So karmic law dictates that we should slice those creatures thin, fry them up and eat them! It’s a clear religious duty!”

Kuno motioned towards the weird sea cucumbers. “I agree. You may now commence to eat these creatures until the karmic balance is restored.”

“Ah – well.” The fox subsided. “You know – Confucius used to say
‘do nothing, and all will be well…’
”

A slurping sound came form the far end of the table. Kuno, Chiri and Sura looked around to see Tonbo just finishing the last of the pickled sea cucumbers. They stared
as he swallowed the final creature down and gave a nod.

“Good.” He reached for the rice. “
Salty.”

Sura passed the man a drink: clearly he was made of stern stuff indeed.

The rice, however, was hot and fresh. Sura’s habit of drizzling sauce all over her rice no longer drove Kuno into apoplexy. They sat back to eat, and Sura shook an empty bottle of sakē. The teapot was also empty. She searched about for the innkeeper, but the man was nowhere to be found. Sura arose and peered into the kitchen, finally finding the innkeeper’s wife carrying wood in for the fire. The woman bobbed and bowed, and Sura waved at her with her usual easy charm.

“Sorry to bother you! Can we have some more tea?”

“Yes yes! At once!” The grey haired woman bowed again and again. “I shall attend to it. My apologies – we do not wish to offend a priestess!”

“Oh – I’m a fox! Takes a lot to offend us…” Sura perched herself on the e
dge of a bench. “So do your local priests ever come here? Monks, that sort of thing?”

“No, Kitsune san!
We have no priests!”

“Oh – you must have monks here? A shrine? Maybe a little one?”

“No, honoured priestess. None.
” The innkeeper’s wife hastened to put a teapot over the fire. “No shrines! No!”

“
Ah – excellent. Fine…” Sura held up a finger as the innkeeper’s wife began scuttling away. “Say, do the fishermen come in here of an evening? Because I’d love to hear about any local problems with…”

The innkeeper’s wife had disappeared, Sura remained
on the bench, feeling rather flat.

“
…problems with ghosts or monsters…” She heaved a sigh. “Ah well.”

Sura walked back out to the dinner table and sat herself down. She looked over the empty inn and gave a scowl.

Chiri turned to her. “Is everything well, friend Sura? Surely nothing is wrong?”

“I’m not sure that we have the staff’s full attention.” The fox gave a sigh. “Ah well.”

“Is it important that you speak to them?”

“Innkeepers hear things!” The fox tried to collect sakē from the dregs in all of the bottles. “They’re a vital link in the whole monster location process!”

Kuno smoothed at his immaculate moustache. “There is not necessarily anything wrong here. The last six villages had no problems more serious than disappearing oxen.”

Sura immediately sat up in her chair. “
Hey – that ox abduction could have been serious! That could have presaged a whole weird livestock abduction thingy! Hungry ghosts, evil curses. Ghouls from a forbidden realm preying on the mortal world…”

“
…and making off with cows.”

The fox protested with
innocent enthusiasm. “Hey, there are cattle-eating monsters!”

“Yes. Undoubtedly.”
Kuno carefully lifted up Daitanishi so that Chiri could clear the table. “But in this case, it was a broken fence. The creature had just wandered off.”

“
Well it could have been something! That’s our job – we investigate stuff!” The fox gave a satisfied wave of her hand. “Anyway, we found it! Those things are a valuable rural resource!”

“Yes.” Kuno frowned. “
It ate my hat.”

“Well – that meant the straw was too green for hat use anyway. We’ll get you another one at the festival. A better one! Taller, with one of those really cool tufty bits at the top!”

The innkeeper entered the inn through the front door. Behind him came an ancient fisherman – a creature so old that he was almost bent completely in two. The man’s long white moustache almost hid his chin. He was accompanied by another older man – this one wearing an apron and carrying woodworking tools. The innkeeper pointed Sura out to the newcomers. They thanked him, removed their shoes, and came slowly over to the table.

The two old men
seemed weighed down with grief. Sura arose and met them with a bow. The bent old man bobbed his head, leaning heavily upon a crooked stick.

“Priestess! Welcome to our humble village.” The old ma
n’s voice was a bare, husky wheeze. “Please excuse us. We beg you to please perform your holy office. We beg you to pray for the souls of our dead.”

Sura straightened – instantly serious.

“What dead, honoured grandfather? What has happened?”

The old man’s voice wheezed slowly past his huge moustache.

“Two fishermen – and Rokuko san, our village wise woman.” He bowed his ancient head. “We do not have their bodies, priestess. But they are surely dead. The marsh has taken them.”

The fox looked out through a window, towards the rocky isle beyond the great dark tangle of the marsh.

“They went into there?”

“
Yes, priestess. They did not return. We know that they are dead.”

Tonbo rose and scowled.

“How can you know that they’re dead? Did you search?”

The second man – the carpenter – looked as grey as old ashes.

“No samurai. We did not search.”

“Then how do you know that they are dead?”

The carpenter looked at Tonbo with grief-stricken, haunted eyes.

“
Because nothing that goes into the marsh can live.” The man bowed his head. “Not since we scorned the gods. Not since the kami rejected us.”

He looked back towards the marsh.

“The
Eater
is there. And no soul can survive.”

Chapter
3

The Spirit H
unters made space at their table and carefully sat the ancient fisherman down. The old carpenter was settled at his side. Tea suddenly arrived, brought by the ever-anxious innkeeper. Sura – in her fur form, fox faced and green eyed – leaned forward to listen intently to every word from the two old men. She was absolutely engaged.

“How long have you been plagued by this monster?”

The old carpenter hung his head. “Five years, priestess. The Eater has become strong, feeding upon our sins.”

Asodo Kuno – looking
intelligent and efficient in his armour’s under robes and sleeves – thoughtfully stroked at his moustache.

“You believe this monster has been created by your sins?”

“Yes samurai.” The old man hung his head. “Please forgive us – our folly, our terrible failings – they have led to our punishment. Perhaps you will feel that our suffering is well deserved.”

The ancient, bent fisherman gave a sigh. He closed his eyes as he spoke
sadly of his people’s shame.

“
Samurai – this village is under a curse. A curse we brought upon ourselves.

“
Long ago, a kami of the ocean favoured us. A shrine to the kami was raised at a sacred rock in the marsh. We sacrificed, and all was well. The kami thanked us for our homage with a gift: our nets always held just enough to feed our families, no matter what famine or troubles stalked the lands. So long as we fished only modestly for ourselves – so long as we sought to bring harm to no other men - the sea would always favour us.”

Chiri listened quietly, graciously pouring the old man a cup of tea.

“That seems idyllic, honoured fisherman.”

“Yes. But it is the curse of men to forever wish for more than they now have.”

There was a pause as the aged man drank tea. He sipped gratefully, then set his cup aside.

“
When the whalers first arrived, we were overjoyed! They would use our village as a base in the springtime, and their presence would bring prosperity. Our carpenters would make and repair their ships, and we would sell them food. A great patron would be found, and he would bring gifts and protection. Festivals such as the one held here today would bring us trade and fame. And so we abandoned the sea kami’s gift, and accepted the wealth of the whalers. We ceased fishing modestly for ourselves, and attacked the sea with a frenzy, drawing forth fish to feed the whalers, and the swarms of lowlife and prostitutes that they brought with them. We gathered fish to sell for profit in far markets, netting breeding colonies and destroying them.

“
The sea kami was angered. Suddenly, the marsh about the kami’s shrine became death. The kami cursed us for our greed, and that greed became embodied by what we call the
Eater
. Now it consumes any who would enter the marsh.

“The fish in the bay have all but vanished, for the ocean now refuses to feed us.
What food we now have…” The old man waved in the direction of the lunch plates. “Dregs taken from old pots and nets. We are dependent upon rice doled out by the patron.

“
The whalers’ promises of prosperity had other prices that were too high. So now we have neither the wealth of the whalers, not the blessing of the sea. We starve – but even more so, we now see our terrible pride, our greed and error. We are a people crushed by shame.”

Chiri was saddened. She bowed quietly to the old man.

“Honoured fisherman, we are sorrowed by your loss.”

The old carpenter looked sadly into his teacup.

“Rokuko san, our wise woman, first introduced the whalers to us. She wanted their prosperity for our village. But five years have passed, and our lives are sour. Rokuko san is blind, and she broods on our shame. She wishes to once again find favour in the eyes of the sea kami.”

Chiri looked sadly at the two old men.

“Rokuko san was blinded, honoured elders?

The carpenter nodded, heaving a world weary sigh. “
She is a shugenja, honoured guest. But her luck deserted her. She was blinded in an accident ten years ago. Thereafter, she slowly lost almost all of her powers.”

The rat hung her head, one hand gently caressing Daitanishi.

“I am sorry, honoured grandfathers, that your village has seen such times.”

Tonbo leaned forward – the bench groaning beneath his armoured bulk.

“What of the wealth? Don’t the whalers bring in a catch?”

The ancient fisherman shook his head slowly, his huge moustache sweeping like a brush.

“They sell their catch at the capital, samurai. Then they spend their profits whoring and gambling in the big city. We are nothing but their anchorage.”

The old carpenter
leaned forward.

“
Excuse me samurai, but as time went by, we distanced ourselves from the – the source of the whaler’s wealth. They are foul men, and we want nothing to do with them.” The man looked down at the table top. “Rokuko san, she… She said that we should return to the old ways. She wanted to sacrifice at the sacred marsh rock once more.”

The ancient fisherman nodded.

“Rokuko san must have gone out last night. She took two men with her. None of them have returned. The Eater has claimed them.”

The innkeeper brought sakē
to the table. Quiet, calm and concerned, Sura reached forward and carefully poured out drinks for the two old men.

“There is no tragedy worse than dissatisfaction – no sin worse than greed.” She gently urged the men to drink. “I am sorry that you have learned such a lesson at so terrible a price. Please calm yourselves.”

The elders drank quietly. Sura did not touch a drop. Her narrow fox face was serious and filled with concern – her green eyes full of compassion.

“Tell me, honoured grandfathers – what do you know about this ‘Eater’? Do you know what manner of creature it is?”

The ancient fisherman shook his head, his words wheezing softly.

“
No, honoured priestess. For the monster is quite invisible. It kills, and is never seen.”

“Has it killed many?”

“Before last night, we had lost four villagers to the monster’s hunger. One fisherman hunting eels. Two young women who went digging for clams – and a young man who tried to run to their assistance. In both cases, companions say they heard screams, but the monster and the victim were nowhere to be seen.”

Sura sat back to ponder. She ran a hand beneath her muzzle, looking out through a window towards the tangled marsh.

The fox nodded, her mind filled with thoughts and schemes.

“
Who’s the patron of this village? This Prince Horigawa person? We should inform him of our activities, just to make certain everything’s official.” Sura saw the two old men nod. “All right. You’re the village elders. Can you beg him for an immediate audience, please? Priestess to Prince. Tell him Kitsune Sura, Priestess of the High Clan of Kitsune Mountain, and Imperial Deputy Asodo Kuno request a few moments of his time. We’ll get this show on the road.” Sura pushed back her sleeves. “We’ll find out what’s been happening to your missing people, and we’ll fix this monster.”

The two old men both immediately bowed, their faces filled with
hope and awe.

“
You will fight the Great Eater?”

Sura grinned.
“Of course! We’re Spirit Hunters!”

The elders arose to
leave. The ancient fisherman came to clasp hands with Sura, then with Chiri. He bowed once again to Tonbo and Kuno.

“
Spirit Hunters – we thank you! You have come to us when we had no hope.” The old man joyously gripped his aged companion. “My friend, my friend! Please go to Prince Horigawa’s lodgings, and request an audience for the priestess.”

The carpenter
tottered off as fast as he could. The aged fisherman followed far more slowly, assisted once he reached the street by an anxious group of fishermen. Sura rose, dusted off her hands, then reached for her backpack. Tonbo stood and reached for his tetsubo.

“So
– a prince?”

“
A prince!” Sura opened her pack. “Time to dust off the ol’ suikan again!” The fox pulled out the stiff leather case that held her formal clothing. “Here we are! Best thing I ever stole!”

Kuno looked up in shock.

“Stole?”

“Not in a bad way! I just
slightly
modified the orders to the delivery guys! I received an embroidered suikan robe of polished silk, and a certain other person
may
have happened to received an unlined hemp gardening outfit by mistake.” She turned to Kuno, who was staring at her in disapproval. “Hey, she was trying to steal it from someone else! I just redirected it after
she
redirected it! Poetic justice!”

“Hmmmph.”
Kuno glowered. “Indeed.”

“
She
started it! She was from the white fox clan. A total egotist!”

The samurai could only shake his head. “Surely not.”

“Really! And she always did this stupid thing with her hair!” Sura bustled off, tail swishing behind her. “Right! Work to do – monsters to bash. I need a room to change in! Chiri – get those silk robes we bought you. Time to look the part!”

The two women flitted off to change. Left in the inn’s main chamber with Tonbo, Kuno dusted off his robes, then reached for his breastplate.

“A prince of the imperial court?”

“A prince.” Tonbo discovered that Sura had forgotten the sakē bottle. He poured out the remains for himself and Kuno.

“Kampai!”

A loud festival for mere commoners was not to the tastes of Prince Horigawa. A
mansion had been made for him far back from the village itself, upon a hill that had a picturesque view of the bay. There was a well-tended, sandy garden, and many comforts brought long miles from the capital, however the prince saw the house as little more than a drab rustic retreat. His expression as he arrived upon the porch was one of barely contained disdain.

The porch had been arrayed as a formal meeting point. Four warrior monks from one of the temples that the
prince endowed knelt on guard: men armoured in black with white cowls over their heads. Court servants in folded caps and short suikan robes stood in the shadows, stiff faced and immobile. Prince Horigawa came forth from the depths of the house, his robes trailing, his head topped in a formal, tall eboshi cap. Thin as a spider, the man sank down – servants smoothing the train of his robes. Jet black eyes in a seamed face glared down at the four Spirit Hunters kneeling in the garden.

Chiri, Tonbo and Kuno bowed their faces to the ground.
Sura bowed after the others, and nowhere near as deeply – for she was Kitsune, of the first clan of Kitsune Mountain.

Prince Horigawa was far too elevated to acknowledge the bows of mere wanderers. He unfurled a fan, as though needed to refresh himself – scowling slightly as he heard distant sounds of song and laughter from the seaside festival.

The man had blackened his teeth in the style of the court – a startling look in a face already far too pale. Sura ignore the man’s hostile glare and sat up, her magnificent robes gleaming like a field of snow all about her.

“Prince Horigawa
, esteemed Minister of the Right – greetings!” The fox was a gloriously exotic sight. In her fur form, her orange pelt gleamed in the afternoon sun. Chiri, also in fur form, was attended by her elementals and beautifully dressed in blue silks. Kuno had his billet of imperial authority placed before him, and Tonbo… Tonbo had the world’s largest battle club. The group were wonderfully impressive. Sura gave the slightest of bows.

“
We are Spirit Hunters, operating according to the wishes of Imperial Magistrate Masura.” The fox pointed towards the marshes with her beautifully painted fan. “The fishermen of this village have informed us that a marsh monster has been preying upon them. We believe it would be of benefit to this community if we were to investigate the problem and banish the monster. Since you are the guardian and patron of this village, we thought it best to inform you of the problem, and of our intentions.”