The Fox's God (14 page)

Marin absorbed all this with unreadable eyes. The old leader had been her father, but she did not seem overly upset to hear of his death. Perhaps she was too skilled to reveal her true feelings.

“So Mamoru claims to be half-demon now?” Marin said. “What proof is there he’s not merely possessed?”

“I don’t see how a demon could have impersonated him so well, or why it would want to. A demon would have gone its own way rather than follow me out of loyalty. He’s changed, but he’s still Mamoru.”

“We can ascertain that when we see him,” Toshishiro said. “I have heard of a case of such a melding and it was reported one could see the mixed parties.”

“You’ve yet to explain how his body ended up empty,” the odd monk said. His name appeared to be Domi.

“Advisor Yoshida sent him to spy on the Fox clan,” Usagi said simply. “He did not come back. I suspect they trapped him, somehow.”

“We’ll need good horses,” Marin said, “if we’re to arrive while he’s still alive.”

“Is this a ‘we’ event?” Domi inquired.

Marin glared at him. “Yes. These are my cousins and they’re as good as orphaned. It’s my responsibility to protect them.”

“I can arrange for care for the boy,” Toshishiro said. “But I believe there’s a way to get there much faster than by horse. Wouldn’t you agree, Domi?”

Domi winced. “Toshi,” he protested. Eying Marin warily, he added, “Love, how likely would you be to eviscerate me if I had a secret I’d neglected to tell you, a secret that might help your lost cousin?”

“If it’s truly that useful…” Marin pursed her lips. “Only slightly likely. Which becomes more likely if you don’t tell me about it right this instant.”

“It’s easier to show you. I’ll need a map to judge distance and direction.”

“Let us place Mamoru under somebody else’s care before we depart,” Toshishiro said. “I hope to be of some help, as a spokesman of the Great Temples. I’d dearly like to know just how they’ve trapped him.”

Usagi said nothing at all, knowing better than to interfere with people who knew what they were doing. She’d chosen well in coming here. She had allies; together they would get Mamoru back. For the first time that day, she felt like smiling.

“Ah, they were fighting about Domi’s secret earlier,” Mamoru said. “What is it?”

“I don’t know how to explain,” Usagi said. “He somehow opened a way through the spirit side and moved us, one by one. Everybody got dreadfully sick along the way, but we arrived unharmed. I think you heard the rest.”

“Most of it, yes. I wonder what Advisor Yoshida was trying to hide. Is he telling other people about the expedition to the north?”

“Perhaps,” Usagi said. “It’s not our problem.”

“True.” And if it brought trouble onto the foxes under the form of, perhaps, an ambush, he couldn’t be sorry about it.

The road meandered through a stretch of forest populated by fragrant evergreens, empty of travellers other than themselves. He could almost imagine he and Usagi were alone in the world with the birds and squirrels. Well, there were the two monks ahead, but they were so quiet he could pretend they weren’t there.

“Thank you,” he told Usagi. “For coming. That was very—”

“Foolish? Insane? Impulsive?” She smiled and pushed her hair over her shoulder. It wasn’t pinned up like usual, but instead hung freely. “I can be all these things, when I’m free to do what I like. Now that there is no clan, who can tell me what I can and can’t do?”

“I can,” Marin said. “But I think I won’t have to. You’re a sensible girl, in your own way.”

“Aunt Marin,” Usagi said in exasperation. “That’s rude! If you’re going to spy, don’t let us know about it!”

Marin laughed. “We’ll get along very nicely.” She walked away and shimmied up a tree.

“I was going to call you bold and brave,” Mamoru said once they were—probably—alone. “And I’m grateful. It was so…lonely in there. I thought about you to encourage myself.”

“Empty flattery,” Usagi said. But she took a step closer, and their arms touched as they walked. “I was worried about what we’d do, after I fetched you, but it looks like Aunt Marin’s adopted us. It should be…interesting.”

Toshishiro turned and snapped, “Quiet!”

Instantly, they stood still as statues, quiet and still and listening. Mamoru couldn’t hear anything, but he knew better than to ask what Toshishiro had heard.

The old monk hissed out a breath. “Bandits. They didn’t hear us. They’re stalking a merchant cart farther ahead on the road.”

“How many?” Domi inquired, voice low.

“Near a dozen. All armed.”

Domi chewed on that. “Troublesome. Can we catch up without being seen?”

Marin slipped out of the forest. “Domi, no. You have a headache.” She said the word “headache” as if it were a life-threatening ailment.

“I can hit them once, at least. You can clean up.”

“We gain nothing if we do this. We can take a shortcut through the forest.”

“There’s a pair of children on the cart,” Toshishiro said.

“We have a pair of children with us too,” Marin snapped.

Usagi stepped forward. “We’ve not badly trained, Aunt Marin. We can help.”

Marin and Domi stared at each other, evidently having a silent argument.

“There’s no time,” Toshishiro said. He broke into a soft-footed jog along the dirt road.

Domi turned on his heels and followed the older monk.

“Monks,” Marin muttered. “Well, come on, children!”

They fell in on either side of her, moving fast without quite running. Arriving in a fight out of breath was never a good strategy.

“Aunt Marin, how did the old monk know there were bandits?” Mamoru asked.

“Hm? I’d have thought you could see it. He has one of those creatures serving him, a spirit.”

“Oh. I can’t see things like that when I’m, um, inside my flesh.”

The road meandered like a riverbed and they couldn’t see far ahead through the evergreens. But when a female scream rose, it felt very close by.

“Listen,” Marin said, her tone full of authority and menace. “Stay with Domi. Pull him back when he falls. I can handle the rest. Keep him safe for me.”

“Understood,” Usagi and Mamoru said. That was all junior
shinobi
were expected to do: acknowledge the order and obey. The why would presumably become clear soon enough.

They nearly ran into Domi and Toshishiro, who’d stopped to survey the situation from the cover of a convenient fallen tree. Mamoru crouched with them, hardly daring to breathe for fear they’d be discovered too soon.

The cart was surrounded, two men flanking and holding the nervous, fidgeting horse in place. A man, a woman, and two children were on the cart, along with so many piled goods that the towering construction might have collapsed without warning.

“Defend us!” the merchant shouted. “What did I hire you for?”

One of the men holding the horse waved a hand as if to chase off an importune fly. “Surprise, we’re bandits too! You expected honest men to accept the pittance you wanted to pay us? Pathetic. Don’t move and you get to stay alive.” The other men moved in like predators, seizing anything at hand. Goods went tumbling down across the road, upturned chests spilling colorful silks and broken potteries. “Oh, and take the woman too.”

The woman screamed. The merchant, presumably her husband, screamed louder.

“Domi, you attack from here,” Marin murmured under cover of that noise. “I’ll go around to attack them from behind when they turn this way. The rest of you stay here too.” She put a blade between her lips and slithered away under needle-laden branches.

“Wait for her signal,” Domi murmured. “When I rise, don’t stand anywhere in front of me.”

The bandits had successfully wrestled the woman off the road when they heard a bird call made by no real bird.

Domi rose smoothly, his spear resting against his shoulder as he aimed his bare palms at the enemy. Tiny balls of whiteness shot forth from his palms, forming two streams running on either side of the cart. Those who stood in their way did not stand long. Blood flowed and men screamed.

The man holding the horse, possibly the leader of this friendly band, pointed at Domi. “He did it! He’s a demon! Kill him!”

Hissing in pain, his brows furrowed low, Domi aimed again. A second wave of the tiny balls came out, but it was short and unfocused and missed hitting any of the remaining men. He pitched forward so slowly Mamoru almost didn’t realize he’d lost consciousness.

Usagi moved; so did Mamoru. They grabbed Domi’s clothes, whatever was closest, and yanked him behind the tree. He was shaking, limbs flailing; a stray hand smacked Mamoru in the face so hard his nose almost broke under the impact.

Toshishiro had sprung up in Domi’s place, spear extended.

This seemed to encourage the bandits rather than the opposite. “Die, old man!”

Toshishiro sidestepped the first sword, parried the second, jabbed the wooden end of his spear into the first man’s back, bent backward to remove his throat from the reach of a third weapon. His expression never changed from its eerie serenity. He was old, and perhaps not as physically strong as these younger, rougher types, but his every move was precise and accurate.

Mamoru flattened his body across Domi’s chest, hoping only to keep him put. He could deal with the flailing arms pounding his back. He’d bruise, but bruises healed. Usagi crouched over them both, poisoned hairpin in hand, ready to intercept anyone who got past Toshishiro.

A scream rose above all others, a male bellow of anger and pain. Marin had sneaked up behind the presumed leader, and sunk a dagger into his sword shoulder, effectively disabling his arm. She smiled at him even as he tried and failed to knock her aside. He stumbled sideways, falling to his knees and grasping at the dagger in his shoulder.

Marin turned her back on him and offered a sweet smile to the men gaping at her. “Who’s next?”

“Demoness,” the nearest man spat.

Her smile widened.

Intelligent men would have split to confront both threats, but these bandits were too used to defenseless prey to know what to do when prey fought back. Thoroughly distracted by Marin, they didn’t notice Toshishiro approaching from behind until his spear flashed out and took the nearest bandit down. The others instinctively looked around, which gave Marin opportunity to strike in turn.

The last few bandits, finally engaging their wits, scattered into the forest. Marin dispatched the wounded with her knives, swift and merciless.

Mamoru swallowed. “I never, never want to be on a side opposite to hers.”

“Agreed,” Usagi said.

The children’s muffled sobs seemed loud in the returned quiet. Their father had pushed them down, but they must have seen what had passed, for all their faces were gray. Violence did that to people who had no experience with it.

The mother stumbled back to the cart, unharmed, and joined the familial huddle. “Thank you,” she said to Marin.

Marin’s lips twisted wryly. “I’d request payment for service rendered, but Domi would scold me. Children! Come help them pack things up!”

Marin took over Domi-watching—he wasn’t kicking anymore—while they knelt on the ground gathering whatever could be salvaged. Mamoru tried not to bleed on the expensive silk bolts. His nose might not have been broken, but it did a fair job of pretending to be as it throbbed and dripped blood.

Usagi gasped in horror, picking up the pieces of what had once been a plate made of purple dragon eggshell. “Oh, it’s broken! What a waste.”

“That was a wedding gift,” the mother said sadly. “But worse things could have been broken.”

They walked with the cart all the way to Nara. The endless expressions of gratitude grew nauseating, but ended after the woman bestowed shards of purple eggshells upon Usagi and Marin to use as jewelry. Domi didn’t object, presumably because of the poisonous look Marin gave him when he opened his mouth to speak, but perhaps also because he was too worn out to go up against her.

Meanwhile, his own bruises had turned sensitive and colorful.

Usagi laughed at him. “Oh, your poor face! You didn’t even fight, yet you look like you took a beating.”

Mamoru hunched, willing his enhanced healing ability to work faster and take the bruises away. His dignity had been battered enough for one day. First he’d had to be rescued from a vase, and then he’d been beaten up by an unconscious man. So much for impressing Usagi.

Chapter Seventeen

Jien

W
atching Akakiba brood was about as interesting as watching rice grow. In a split moment, he’d gone from happy that he’d found Yuki and Inari to unhappy about—what?

“Allow me to venture a guess,” Jien said grandly, spreading his arms. “You’re worrying he’s fallen down a cliff, or gotten attacked by bandits, or gotten eaten by a hungry bear. Maybe he’s fallen down a cliff because he was getting chased by bandits and bears!”

“Would you stop—”

“Stop you from brooding? I’m trying.”

“I wanted to shift and go meet them on their way here,” Akakiba said, strangely quietly. “But it’s gone.”

Oh. This wasn’t unfounded brooding; it was much worse. “You mean shifting?”

A brief grunt of agreement. Akakiba studied his hands like he’d never seen them before. “When I reach for it, there’s nothing. I’m broken.”

“I’m sorry,” Jien said awkwardly. “I know that’s hard for your kind. Did it happen during the battle?”

“It must have.” He stopped, his lips stretching in a twisted parody of a smile. “It’s nothing. Others have lost more.” Akakiba didn’t need to explain who he was thinking about. Sanae. Sora. Others whose names they’d never bothered to learn, but who had died fighting at their side.

Jien could recognize trauma when it smacked him in the face. Handling this sort of thing required patience, finesse, and compassion. The sort of things a priest or a priest’s son could offer.

But since Yuki was currently unavailable, he could only rely on his own methods.

Lunging forward, he punched Akakiba.

Now sprawled on the floor, Akakiba stared at him with confusion writ all over his countenance. “What was that for?” The lack of anger or immediate retaliation was a further sign something was badly wrong.

“I was trying to punch out your shield of stupid,” Jien explained as he nursed his poor knuckles. “But I think I broke my hand instead. Ow.”

Akakiba sat up slowly, absently rubbing his red cheek. “And I’m the stupid one? Can you move your fingers?”

“Never mind my fingers! Now
listen
, because I can’t afford to punch you again. It’s not wrong to grieve for your personal loss, even if it seems ungrateful because others are worse off. It’s even necessary; grief is how people deal with bad events and come to terms with them. The right way to honor the fallen is to pick up and keep living.”

“What would you know about that?”

“You think warrior monks never get hurt? We’re frail compared to you. We all lose friends over the years and we live with the knowledge that one bad fight can put us out of commission forever. If my right arm got badly injured, I couldn’t use my spear anymore. If my leg took a bad hit, I might never be able to walk the roads again. But those monks don’t lie down to die. They go back to the temples and find other ways to help. They keep going. When I get too old or injured, I’ll do the same.”

“I—”

“I know, I know,” Jien interrupted mockingly, “you’re not a frail human and therefore my advice can’t possibly apply to you. Talk to Maru and your father and see if they say any differently. They don’t sit around brooding; they find ways to work around their limitations and get on with living. Some of you look at Maru like he’s broken, but he knows he’s not. He’s the most useful person in this clan of angst-riddled furballs.”

Knowing Akakiba, he’d sooner slice his own throat than seek help. But maybe Maru and Kiba could be sicced on him if he didn’t improve after this excellent intervention.

“Do you know what you need?” Jien added to break the stretching silence. “A distraction. Here’s an idea. Let’s have a bath. When’s the last time we bathed? No, don’t tell me, it’ll horrify me. I propose we burn our clothes and go naked. And look at my hair!”

Akakiba’s eyes lost their unfocused and thoughtful glaze. He looked plain exasperated as he said, “Jien, you’re shaved bald.”

“That’s the thing; it’s growing back in! I lost my shaving blade somewhere. A monk with hair is a disgrace!”

“We do smell like three-day-old corpses,” Akakiba conceded, sniffing as if only noticing the smell now.

Someone must have “suggested” to the other human guests that a bath might be in order because they could hear Hachiro’s boisterous laughter before they even got through the building’s door. The other hint was the handful of women lurking at the door.

“Don’t you dare shift male to come inside,” Akakiba told them in passing. “Or I’ll let them know about it.”

The women gave him affronted looks, but didn’t reply. That, right there, was proof they’d been entertaining the idea.

“And you call me a pervert, huh?” Jien muttered.

“They’re not perverts; they’re predators.”

Inside, Akakiba was the only fox among many, many naked human males. His scars didn’t stand out in this rough crowd; nobody asked about the deep claw marks across his back. Too bad; Jien had seen them happen and could have related the tale.

Since there wasn’t room for more than six people to wash at the same time, they took turns with the soap and cold water. Astonishing quantities of dirt, mud, and blood were scrubbed out of hair and skin, the now-brown water sloshing along the sloped ground until it reached the evacuation slit along the wall. Those who achieved acceptable cleanliness sank into the large, rock-lined bath. There was no need to heat the water because it was a natural hot spring, the warmth rising from the earth itself.

Jien achieved a state of cleanliness before Akakiba, who had to scrub his ridiculous length of hair. Yes, it was gorgeous, but couldn’t he cut it shorter? Suggesting so might get him killed, however.

Jien yelped when he climbed in the bath. His body was so cold the hot spring’s usually-comfortable temperature felt like burning. His skin tingled painfully until his body adapted.

“I was an icicle, but I’m better now,” he announced.

“I wish to never get out,” Hachiro sighed blissfully. There was mumbled agreement from men in various states of near-unconsciousness. A hot bath was the surest way to reach a state of mindless relaxation after long travel and hard battle.

Even Akakiba looked comfortable. When he started to nod off, he dragged himself out.

Jien yawned and followed suit. “Sleep sounds like a good idea.”

In the dressing room, all their clothes were gone. That was expected; someone would be cleaning them. But he wouldn’t be surprised if the person in question gave up and burned them instead.

The lack of available
yukata
, the informal robes for wearing inside the home, was not so normal. There were always a variety of sizes available for people coming out of the baths. Jien had come here often enough to learn the clan’s habits.

“Did they run out?” he wondered.

Akakiba stood glaring at the door, hands twitching. “They were here when we came in. Somebody stole them.”

“Oh, you think the women? Aren’t they too old for pranks?”

“A normal fox could merely shift and go,” Akakiba said. “Only humans and those who are human-trapped can’t walk out without a
yukata
.”

“You’re paranoid. They didn’t steal all the clothes to humiliate you. They have no way of knowing you can’t shift.” He clapped his hands. “But hey! If they did steal the
yukata
because they want to see naked men, I’ll oblige! Stay here.”

Jien strode out, making no effort to cover himself. These were all grown women; they knew what a naked man looked like. Most of them occasionally
were
men—physically speaking.

“I’m looking for a
yukata
thief,” he said. “There’s none left inside. I’m feeling a little cold here.”

The women shrieked with laughter, slapping sleeves-covered hands over their mouths in an effort to contain the noise.

“Hey, hey, another man could feel hurt by such laughter,” he protested. He, however, had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing!

One woman pointed upward. Looking up, Jien found two dozen
yukata
spread out on the bathhouse’s tiled roof and, peering down at him, two fox kits.

“Hikaru and Kaoru,” one woman hiccupped. “They pulled them up one by one…”

“How? No, never mind. I just want to get one.” Before his most delicate bits froze and fell off. Yes, it was spring. That didn’t mean it was warm enough to go naked.

Sacrificing his dignity, he jumped until he managed to catch the edge of one, then a second,
yukata
. He yanked them down, and if one got torn in the process, too bad. He only needed the middle to be intact, to cover his important bits.

He handed the second one to Akakiba, inside. “Good news, it’s got nothing to do with your self-centered, paranoid self! The terrible twins are living up the ‘terrible’ part.”

The ugliness vanished from Akakiba’s gaze. “The twins? I shouldn’t be surprised.” He took the offered
yukata
, slipping it on and tying it closed with the simple belt at the waist. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, you should be grateful; it wasn’t you freezing your private bits off and swinging them around in full view of five women while trying to yank a pair of
yukata
off the roof.” He smirked when Akakiba, taken off-guard, actually laughed. It was short lived, but a good sign nonetheless. “Come on, before the other guys come out and try to steal our
yukata
. Let them beg the women outside for help.”

Later, after he’d deemed Akakiba likely to survive a few hours without him, Jien snuggled the decadently warm futon in his guest room and entertained fantasies of sleeping for a hundred years. It was nice to be—not home, but in a familiar, safe place. Now if Yuki could hurry and catch up!

After hours of trying, clan leader Takashi gave up trying to get his people to stop planning a welcoming party for Inari. “We’ve no proof it’s truly Inari,” he grumbled.

At least we didn’t tell them about her other claim,
Kiba said.
I wonder if she can prove she’s our First Lady. Knowing the Five’s names is not solid proof.

Jien shuffled towards the door. He’d already recounted everything he recalled about the battle. “I’d best go keep an eye on Aki,” he said when Kiba looked his way.

Nobody said he couldn’t go, so he took off. He’d already met Inari, but he approved of the notion of a celebration. The women had been in the kitchen for hours, ever since Grandmother Naoko announced Inari—and Yuki—would arrive before nightfall. Wonderful smells wafted through the hallways, sharpening his appetite every time he caught a whiff.

Akakiba stood at the very front of the milling crowd, a few feet from the wide-open gates. Anyone who otherwise might have tried to say something impolite to him would have been discouraged from it by the fact that Hachiro stood with him. The big guy’s presence seemed to keep people on their best behavior.

Jien politely squeezed his way to the front. He was a hero too, wasn’t he?

Yuki came up the road framed by two foxes, one physical and one not. There was no cheering, only tense, expectant silence. Akakiba pulled Yuki aside as soon as he was within reach, pushing a roll of rice in his hand.

“I’m not dying of starvation,” Yuki said with a laugh, but he bit into the roll anyway.

“There’s more inside, and fresh tea as well,” Akakiba said, putting a hand on Yuki’s sleeve as if to tow him away.

Grandmother Naoko cleared her non-existent throat.
This is the lady Inari,
she said to the crowd. Dozens of voices rose at the same time, some crying welcomes, others shouting questions. Jien flinched in pain from the sheer quantity of fox speech ringing in his head.

A woman shoved her way to the front and flattened herself to the ground. “Heal my son, I beg you!” That quieted the crowd. They waited to hear what Inari would say.

What’s wrong with him?

“He was born unable to shift,” the woman said. “Please, heal him.”

Jien identified the woman as Hana. She was possibly the gloomiest woman in the entire clan. Her son had been fox-trapped from birth, which made it impossible for him to learn the blade or take a bride. Human women would be unsuitable, and fox ones apparently didn’t want to marry someone so weak for fear their children would be even weaker.

The situation threatened to grow awkward. Jien worked his way out and away from the crowd, trailing after Akakiba and Yuki. He was followed in turn, Hachiro falling in at his side to say, “I do not know how they have kept their secrets so long, when they tell their visitors so easily.”

“They told you about shifting?” Jien couldn’t help his eyebrows from rising. “They must think you’re special. They don’t usually tell strangers.”

Hachiro swelled. “I will be worthy of their trust.” He looked around. “Have you seen my comrades? I did not see them waiting with us.”

“I’d wager they’re still in bed, too exhausted to rise. Fox women, you know how they are.”

“I know,” Hachiro said happily. “I will rouse our comrades, so they may join our celebration!”

“Okay.” He wouldn’t have wanted to provoke tired men, but the big guy could get away with anything.

Hachiro charged off, the floor trembling under the strength of his steps.

“Our comrades, huh?” Jien said to empty air. “I don’t even know their names.”