The Night Parade (7 page)

After a little while, she hugged her legs to her body as hot, desperate tears stung at her eyes.

“Feeling sorry for yourself?” The cool voice of the she-fox floated through the trees.

Saki's head shot up. Beneath a sagging bough, the fox sat prim and proper. Saki pushed off the ground and scrambled to her feet.

“You came! I was so scared you'd left me…”

“I ought to have left you.” The fox's yellow eyes narrowed, and her four tails thrashed behind her. “Now every sentry in the temple complex will be after you and after
me
as your accomplice. I've been shamed in front of everyone. Do you have any idea of the mess you've made?”

Saki withered at the sharp words. Her shoulders slumped, and she twisted the hem of her nightshirt between her hands again, fighting back a second round of tears. “I'm sorry…I thought it would be enough. I did do the ritual! I just…I just…”

“You couldn't be bothered to do it properly, or you couldn't be bothered to tell me before I put my reputation on the line for you? These spirits think of me poorly enough without you adding fuel to their fire.”

“I said I was sorry…I don't know what else I can do…”

“There is one thing you can do.”

Saki glanced up. She wiped the tearstains from under her eyes and straightened. “What is it? What do I do?”

Under the shifting branches overhead, the fox's glow shone brighter than the moon. Her gaze leveled at Saki as her whiskers gave a twitch. “Hidden somewhere on this mountain is a power that can unravel any problem, unlock any door.”

“Can it lift my curse?”

“No. It holds no sway over the mysteries of life and death. But with it, you may reach the heart of the shrine where the prince dwells, and he may grant your wish.”

“Okay.” Saki nodded, her determination grappling with her nerves. “How do we find it?”

“
We
do nothing. It is you who must undertake this task alone.”

“Alone?” The blood drained from Saki's face. Her courage wavered, a leaf against a strong wind. “Why can't you come with me?”

“I'd be chased away with a cleaver the moment she caught my scent,” said the fox. “You, on the other hand, are precisely what she'll be looking for.”

“She? Who's she?”

“The mountain witch, Yamanba.” The fox stood and took a step back, her yellow eyes glimmering. “Search every inch of her lair. Whatever form the artifact has taken, it will be the only thing untouched by decay. If you can take it from her, I might be inclined to help you again.”

“Wait!” Saki followed the fox a step into the forest. “I don't understand! How do I find her?”

The fox's voice floated back through the trees, low and laughing. “Patience, girl. You are alone, scared, and so very
human
. She will find
you
.”

Saki only closed her eyes to blink, but the fox had vanished. For minutes Saki waited, but no one came. She stood alone in the dark, only three heartbeats away from panic, when another light bobbed up and down between the trees. She turned her head and squinted into the forest. The light came closer every few seconds, heading straight toward her.

A chill ran down Saki's spine, and the wooden geta began to pull her feet away from the point of light. She held out a hand to steady herself against a tree before the shoes could drag her through the woods. With all of her weight pressing down on the geta, the tugging sensation dulled to an itch.

“Hello? Is someone out there?” a voice called through the trees. It sounded clear and grounded. It sounded human.

Saki swallowed, her throat like sandpaper, and wiggled her toes at the itching of the geta. The shoes kept trying to nudge her away.

“Hello? I thought I heard someone crying out here…” The light moved closer, until it lit up the face of the little old woman who carried it.

A wave of relief calmed the nervous thumping of Saki's heart. The woman was half her height and looked like a strong breeze might knock her over. Saki raised her hand and waved. “Excuse me! I'm very lost!”

The old woman jumped, and the oil lamp she held rattled in her grip. The light bounced back and forth off the tree trunks as the woman leaned forward and squinted. She was dressed much like Saki's grandmother, in an old-fashioned yukata that had been worn thin by the years. “My, my, so someone really was out here! Come here, dear. Whatever are you doing out here so late?”

If she was a witch, she didn't seem like a particularly fearsome one. And the warm glow of the light was so much more inviting than the dark shadows of the forest. Saki moved toward the halo of the old woman's light, fighting the pull of the geta. They were telling her to go another way, but the fox's command was still firm in her mind.

“I was walking, but I got lost. I can't find the path anymore.”

“You poor dear. Just follow me, and I'll take you somewhere safe and quiet.”

Saki nodded and trailed two steps behind. The old woman led her back to a dirt path identical to the one the fox had first shown her, though all the daruma lanterns had been torn to tatters. Only the light of the old woman's lantern shone through the woods, casting long, twisted shadows through the trees. Saki hugged her arms closer.

They walked for a few minutes before they reached a little thatched hut tucked between the trees. A nervous energy filled Saki until words began to fall from her mouth.

“Is that your house?” she asked. The hut didn't look any more like a lair than the old woman looked like a witch.

“Indeed it is, my dear. Come sit with me for a while, won't you?”

“Um, okay…but only for a while.” All Saki needed was enough time to figure out whether the fox's words were true.

The woman took Saki inside and made her take off her wooden geta just inside the door. The pulling sensation ceased the instant the sandals left her feet, but somehow that didn't make Saki feel any less anxious.

Inside the one-room hut, a small fire burned in the stove pit at the center of the room. There were no electric lights, nothing that needed batteries to run, not even a radio. The corners of the room were dark and empty, except for the farthest corner, where a young man in a tattered yukata sat facing the wall, his features hidden from sight.

“That's my son. He's very quiet,” the old woman explained. “Just leave him be, and he won't bother you. Would you like some tea?”

After running, crying, and trying to reason with the fox, Saki's throat was parched. “Sorry for the trouble…”

The old woman waved her concerns away and set the lantern down to fix some tea. The walls were water-stained, the wooden beams warped, and even the woman herself seemed to be in an advanced state of decay. But if this was the house, was this little old woman really the mountain witch?

They sat together on lumpy straw mats by the fire, where the old woman handed Saki a chipped earthenware cup. The tea was still too hot to drink, so Saki set it on the floor by her knees.

“Where are you from, my dear?” the old woman asked, sipping her own tea with a tiny smile.

“My grandmother lives in the old house across from the temple. We're visiting her from the city,” Saki replied. “She never told me about anyone living up here on the mountain…”

The old woman laughed. “Oh, I've been here for as long as anyone can remember, dear. I haven't seen your grandmother in quite a long time, so no doubt she's forgotten all about me, but I know this mountain like I know myself. But dear, whatever were you doing in the dark at this hour?”

Saki blushed and mumbled her response. “I was following a fox…”

“Oh no, dear, that won't do at all! Foxes are notorious tricksters. You should never trust a fox to lead your way; they'll always lead you into trouble. What good luck that you found me.”

“May I ask you something?” Saki began. “How is it that you found me in the dark so late?”

The old woman gave a wheezy old laugh. “I was looking for some dinner. When you get to be like me, going out in the sun is so overwhelming. Better to go out at night, when everything is nice and cool.” The old woman finished her tea and set the cup aside. “Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go out and finish gathering the seasonings. Would you stay here, dear?”

Saki nodded with a little hesitation. She didn't want to be left alone with the old woman's son, who had not moved from his place in the corner, but it was the best way to search for whatever the fox wanted her to find.

The old woman noticed Saki's gaze shifting about the room and said, “Oh, don't be frightened. My son wouldn't hurt a fly. He loves his old mother and keeps watch over the house, but you needn't pay him any mind. You're welcome to anything in my house, the loom, the mending, the kitchen. You may even clean if you wish. I do hope you find something to occupy your time, dear. I'll have such a time preparing for the meal that it only seems fair, yes? In fact, I gathered some mushrooms earlier. It would be such a help if you could chop them up while I'm out.”

The old woman leaned in, and the fire glinted in her eyes. “And whatever you do, please stay out of the closet. It's quite dirty, and my son gets rather upset when anyone disturbs his toys. You do understand, don't you, dear?”

The old woman shuffled over to take her oil lantern and closed the door behind her. Once the footsteps retreated into the forest, Saki left the hot teacup and rose to wander the dark room. Every so often, she would glance at the silent, still figure in the corner. Saki positioned herself at every angle she could imagine, but not once could she catch a glimpse of his face.

Everything in the house was falling apart. The tatami on the floor was moldy in patches and worn to dust in others, the kettle over the fire was rusted inside and out, and even the walls had a thin film of grime that came away on Saki's fingers when she brushed them. Only the knives and cleavers set out by the fire were sharp and shining, but even their wooden handles were growing soft with mildew.

The closet. That was the only place she hadn't checked. There must have been a reason for the warning; the closet was where a witch would keep her magic.

Saki glanced over her shoulder to check on the woman's son. He sat in the corner, position unchanged. She reached out and slid the closet door open a crack. A small army of spiders scuttled out through the cobwebs, and Saki bit her tongue to keep from screaming. They had built webs all over the closet and above the two moldy futons stacked on the top shelf. The bottom shelf held an old bucket and rags, also infested with spider nests. Half an arm's length away sat a square box the size of a birthday cake.

With a gasp of courage, Saki kneeled and fished the box out from the maze of webs. The dust came off beneath her fingertips in thick gray smudges. One deep breath blew more of the dust away, revealing the shining black lacquer underneath. The box had no latch, no lock, and no resistance to Saki's fingers as she popped up the lid and slid the panel back.

Old children's toys were stacked on top of one another in a jumble of colored wood and string. The rush of excitement Saki had anticipated dropped to a dull disappointment. She rifled through the small toys without enthusiasm until she noticed a very peculiar doll. The shape and design of the doll seemed normal, but its wooden body and cotton clothes were rotten and half-gone. What had the woman's son been doing with a doll in the first place? The deeper Saki dug into the box, the older the toys looked.

Buried at the very bottom of all the toys was a small leather pouch tied with a drawstring. When Saki lifted the bundle from the box, the contents of the pouch made a sound like glass clicking together. She untied the string with delicate movements, taking care not to make too much noise. She forced open the mouth of the pouch with two fingers and tilted the bag over on her lap. A handful of brightly colored flattened marbles, the kind of toy Saki and her brother used to play with when they were small, tumbled over her folded legs. The game was as simple as flicking one piece into another and winning more marbles than the other player. It was a very old game, her grandmother had told them, played by Japanese children for hundreds of years.

Saki couldn't tell how old the flat marbles were, but the glass was as clear as if it had been melted that very day. The swirls of color within the clear glass shimmered in the firelight. She moved one of the marbles between her fingers, flipping it over and twirling it around her hand. Not a speck of grime, dust, or rot anywhere to be found. It may not have looked the part, but she was sure this was what the fox had spoken of. Saki refilled the bag, tied the string, and stuck the pouch in her pocket. She placed the lid back on the box, opened the closet, and returned it to the spiderwebs.

As soon as the closet door shut, a smooth voice came from the corner.

“You opened Mother's box,” said the old woman's son.

Saki froze and turned her gaze to the figure in the corner. Her heart began to pound.

“You took something of Mother's.” He spoke without making a single movement.

“I-I just wanted to have a look. I'll put it back. I just need to borrow it for a while.”

He shook his head in slow, heavy strokes. “Too late. You'll be punished like the others. She'll take your treasure and munch your bones.”

Saki edged backward to the entrance of the hut. The pounding of her heart turned her chest into a drum. She kept her eyes on the figure in the corner as she slipped her feet into the shadow-strapped geta. Her nerves buzzed with the urge to run. The sandals were pulling her back to the woods, away from the house. Saki surrendered to the instinct and pushed against the latch of the door.

The door was locked from the outside.

The figure in the corner shook his head again. “Mother told you. She told you. You can't leave. You can't get out.” He moved his entire body as he turned.

He had no face—only pale, white skin where the face should have been. No crest of a nose, no hollows for eyes, not even a slit for a mouth. Only a smooth surface, like the shell of an egg. The faceless man watched her struggle with the latch. His skin was so pale, it was colorless. He rotated his entire body to face her, then stood.