by Sarah Ash
“Please join us, imperial majesty,” said Ochiba, raising Ayaka to her feet. But Ayaka wanted to see for herself what had caused such an enjoyable diversion to the tedious morning ritual. And as she extricated herself from Ochiba’s grasp, she heard a snuffling, panting sound.
“Another dragon dog?” Reika said in a soft, surprised tone. She lifted the creature and turned around. Wriggling in her arms and licking her face affectionately was a lithe bundle of coal-black fur.
“Kuri!” Ayaka gave a squeal of delight and rushed forward, hands outstretched. “You’ve come back!”
“Be careful, imperial majesty – it may bite!” warned Ochiba but Ayaka hardly heard her, taking the little dog from Reika and stroking its soft black coat. It gazed up at her from dark red eyes and then began to lick her cheek. She heard a gasp from her ladies from the corner in which they were cowering.
“It has to be my Kuri,” Ayaka said to Reika as the dog continued to snuggle close to her. “He isn’t wearing a collar. The emperor said these dragon dogs are very rare and expensive, so perhaps someone else adopted him when he escaped.”
Reika’s expression had become pensive. She held out her hands. “Perhaps you’d better let me look after him while we make enquiries.”
“But he’s so adorable.” Ayaka was reluctant to let him go.
“Perhaps the little fellow would like a drink?” ventured Lady Miruko.
“Shall I go and ask if anyone has reported a missing pet?” Reika asked.
“An excellent idea, Reika,” said Ochiba. Ayaka noticed that as the other ladies crowded around to pet and fuss over the new arrival, she had stayed at the back of the group. Is she afraid of dogs? And she could not help feeling a certain malicious satisfaction that she might have discovered the all-too perfect Ochiba’s flaw. If she hates dogs, she’ll be only too eager to keep her distance and let Reika handle this sweet puppy.
***
“Kuri’s come back?” The emperor stared down at Ayaka’s new pet which lay curled asleep on a scarlet silk cushion beside her.
“I’m certain it’s him. He was so affectionate. You don’t think it’s someone else’s pet, do you?” It was only when Hotaru did not reply that Ayaka noticed a distinct frown furrowing his brow. “If you’re worried that he might disappear again. like the time before –”
“Dear Ayaka,” he said, taking her hands in his, “you’ve never mentioned what happened to anyone else, have you?”
“No, of course not.” It had been so long since they had been alone together that she felt her heart start to beat faster as he clasped her hands. But close to, she couldn’t help noticing that he was looking far from well; even in the warm lamplight, his complexion had an unhealthy grayish pallor and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes.
“Have you been getting enough rest?” she asked, concerned. “You look tired.”
“There’s been so much to do,” he said, a little irritably. “The Autumn Moon Festival, affairs of state. . .”
“But I thought your ministers took care of such matters.” Ayaka’s father had instilled in her the understanding that the two ministries had been established to lift the cares of daily governance from the shoulders of the emperor. “Please don’t neglect your health, dear Hotaru.”
Unless he’s been visiting Lady Saisho late at night again. That thought was so upsetting that she withdrew her hands from his. But he had already turned away to talk to his page.
“Kobai; bring me Kuri’s other collar.” Hotaru turned back to Ayaka. “As he means so much to you, Ayaka, let’s try to ensure that he doesn’t escape again.”
“So you have another collar for him?” Ayaka was impressed that he had thought of such a possibility. Perhaps he was planning to give me a puppy of my own?
“This one has fire rubies in it.”
“To match his eyes? How pretty; I can’t wait to see it.”
Kōbai returned with the ruby-studded collar on a little tray. Taking it, Hotaru bent down to pat the sleeping dog but – as if he sensed what was coming, Kuri suddenly opened his eyes and gave him a sharp nip. Hotaru snatched his hand away.
“Bad dog, Kuri!” Ayaka seized Hotaru’s hand, anxiously examining it. “The skin’s unbroken,” she said, relieved to just see a line of little tooth marks on his skin, instead of oozing blood. “I wonder why he reacted that way.”
“He was asleep; I must have startled him,” Hotaru said but his expression was cold and Ayaka felt a pang of concern for her pet.
Hotaru could so easily have Kuri put down if he bites him again.
“Let me help,” she said, lifting Kuri on to her laps and stroking his tousled head. “You’ll be a good boy for me, Kuri, won’t you?”
Kuri nestled close to her but as Hotaru approached with the collar a second time, he bared his teeth and a low, menacing growl began in his throat until his whole body vibrated with the sound.
“But it’s such a pretty collar, Kuri. Fit for an empress’s pet dog.”
The growl ended in a sudden vicious snap of the jaws and Hotaru withdrew his hands just in time. Ayaka looked up at Hotaru over the dragon dog’s black head.
“Perhaps he needs more time to get used to us once more,” she said in her most persuasive tones.
“Or he should be taken to the hunting dogs’ kennels in the palace stables.” Hotaru glared at her pet.
“Reika’s been doing some research into dragon dogs,” Ayaka said, hoping that would appease her husband.
“Research?” She noticed that frown had reappeared. “What kind of research?”
“So that we don’t feed him the wrong food. We wouldn’t want to make him fall ill.”
“At least let Kobai take him for his daily exercise.”
“Kobai?” Ayaka considered the suggestion. “Well, I suppose as long as Kuri doesn’t object, that should be all right. But if he runs away again, I shall be inconsolable.”
***
“I’m no scholar, my lady,” Reika said softly as she leaned forward to complete Ayaka’s morning make-up, painting black brows in the fashionable position halfway up her white-powdered forehead, “but I’ve asked around. And it seems that the Captain of the Hunt has never come across a dragon dog.”
“You spoke with the captain?”
“No, he wouldn’t deign to exchange words with a servant, but I know one of the kennel boys who looks after the imperial hunting hounds.”
“A kennel boy? Is he good-looking?” Ayaka could not resist the chance to tease her maid. “Has he tried to kiss you?”
Reika sighed and laid down her brush.
“If you can’t keep still, my lady, you’ll go to greet the court with two wiggly black lines like caterpillars on your forehead.”
“I’ll compose myself.” Ayaka folded her hands in her lap. “Please proceed.”
Reika leaned in again and said quietly, “He asked his master the captain who laughed and said, ‘Someone’s been playing a trick on you. Dragon dogs only exist in fairy tales for children.’”
“Fairy tales?” Ayaka glanced over at Kuri who was curled up on his favorite cushion, fast asleep. “We should have that ignorant captain brought here and hear what he has to say when he sees our little Kuri!”
Reika sat back on her heels to survey her handiwork before bringing her head close to Ayaka’s again, pretending to add another dab of black as she whispered, “You should be careful, my lady. Someone who bears you a grudge may have sent Kuri. We live in troubled times.”
“But he’s so affectionate.” Ayaka could not believe that her darling pet could be a threat to her safety. “And surely if he’s been trained to attack me, he would have done so by now?” Although he did bite Hotaru. . .but that was only in self-defense because he was startled.
“Or should I summon a priest to exorcise your rooms? It might be a wise precaution.”
The idea was distasteful. “What would people say? It would only provoke court gossip of the worst possible kind.” But as she was
dismissing Reika’s suggestion, Ayaka happened to glance again at Kuri and saw that one ember-bright eye was open, regarding them intently.
It’s almost as if he could understand what we’re saying. And then she checked herself. What am I thinking? He’s just a dog.
Chapter 32
“Good evening, Miko-san.” The greeting, though softly spoken, startled Sakami. Turning, she saw Yūgiri approaching through the rising river mists, coming up the path that ran along the steep bank.
“Shaman!” She ran to meet him, glad to see a familiar face. “Is all well at the castle?”
“Yes, and your brother is well too – although he still believes that you’re up at the mountain shrine.”
“But why have you come?”
Yūgiri pointed toward the river below. “To help Lord Naoki transport the saltpeter to Master Kinkiyo on the emperor’s orders.”
“Lord Naoki?” Sakami had not anticipated this. “Oh, no. However am I going to explain what I’m doing here? He’ll suspect –”
“Miko-san?” Lord Naoki appeared on the path from the river. He stopped, staring at her. “What brings you to the capital?”
Sakami panicked. Every time he addresses me, my mind goes blank. And he always looks so forbidding. She exhaled slowly to steady herself before replying, in case she should blab something foolish and give herself away.
“I suggested that Sakami should come here,” Yūgiri said as she was still searching for an explanation. “One of the shrine’s most sacred treasures was damaged and I could think of no one more skilled than Master Kinkiyo to repair it.”
“As long as it hasn’t prevented him from finishing his work on the iron dragons. . .” Naoki seemed satisfied with Yūgiri’s explanation. “We must make ready for the emperor’s visit. Raiko, Chikaaki,” he called down the bank, “come with me.”
Sakami shot Yūgiri a look of gratitude as Lord Naoki walked away, issuing orders to his retainers. But his last words worried her. “The emperor is coming to visit the forge?”
“So it seems.”
“When?”
Yūgiri set out after his clan lord and nodded to her to follow. They caught up with him outside the forge as Kinkiyo greeted the visitors.
“But with such a unique cargo,” Lord Naoki was explaining, “I wanted to make sure that it reached the capital city safely. After all, the emperor himself requested us to collect it.”
Sakami hovered anxiously behind Yūgiri and the retainers, listening carefully for any hints or clues.
“It’s not the most sweet-smelling stuff, my lord,” Kinkiyo said, “before it’s been processed, that is.”
“So that’s why the emperor gave you this site, outside the capital walls?”
Kinkiyo gave a shout of laughter. “You miss nothing, my lord, you’re as sharp as your father.”
“So where do you store the saltpeter?”
“At a good distance from the forge. Once it’s refined, we mix it with charcoal and sulfur to make fire drug. Dangerous stuff!” Kinkiyo gestured further along the bank. “I’ll show you the beds, if you like.”
So the saltpeter needs to be processed before it’s ready to be used. Sakami breathed a little more easily. That means the emperor won’t be coming here just yet.
“But you and your men must be hungry, my lord. Would you care to join us for our evening meal? My daughter and I would be honored. . .”
“Thank you.”
Extra mouths to feed; Beniko will need help. And if there’s one skill I do have, it’s cooking. Sakami rolled up her sleeves, and slipped away to help Beniko prepare the evening meal, calling out to Honou to keep little Ren entertained.
***
“Honou is very good with children,” Beniko said as she chopped scallions. Ren was chuckling with delight as Honou turned him upside down and swung him to and fro.
“He’s little more than a child himself.” Sakami was busy slicing tofu into narrow strips but not so engrossed in her work as to miss the note of regret that colored Beniko’s observation. It must be hard to be widowed with a young son to bring up all alone.
She could hear the Red Kites going to and fro from the river, unloading the sacks of saltpeter, then emptying them into a covered pit set at a distance from the forge.
“I suppose you’ll be going back to your shrine now.” Beniko tipped the chopped vegetables into a large pan and shook them from side to side till they sizzled. “I’ll miss your company, Sakami.”
Sakami laid down her knife and smiled at her.
How strange that just a short while ago, our clans were the bitterest of enemies .And now, here I am cooking and chatting with one of the Red Kites, just as if we’ve been friends since childhood.
“When Ren’s old enough, you should come and visit the shrine,” she said. “The mountain air is fresh and healthy for children. And we have a secret hot spring as well.”
Beniko turned around, her face red from the heat of the cooking fire. “A hot spring? That sounds wonderful,” she said. “I should love to bathe there.”
“Then it’s agreed,” As Sakami spoke, she realized how much she longed to return to Sakuranbo Mountain. I must be homesick. “We’ll take little Ren with us and we’ll treat ourselves to a long, leisurely soak. . .”
“Are you feeling all right, Sakami?”
Sakami blinked, seeing Beniko beside her, one hand on her shoulder.
“I. . . I’m not sure. . .” A wave of dizziness washed through her.
“You look so pale. You must be tired. Go and rest; leave the cooking to me.”
***
Lady Chinatsu placed her hands on either side of Sakami’s face, tipping it up to hers, gazing into her eyes. Sakami’s instinct was to shrink away but the firm pressure of the guardian’s fingertips sent a refreshingly calming sensation through her body.
“This isn’t good,” the guardian said, shaking her head. “You’ve been away from your mountain for too long, child.”
“Too long?” Sakami wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Inari was surprised to see me here in the capital city. Does that mean I shouldn’t have strayed so far from home? “But Honou’s been away before. All the way to the Tide Dragon monastery and back.”
“As kitsune, we draw our strength from the soil, the trees, where we were created; from the land itself. The longer we’re away, the weaker we become. It’s time you both returned to replenish yourselves. You need to go back – and the sooner the better.”
“But I haven’t finished what I came here to do. What will happen to me if I stay a little longer?”
“At worst, you’ll dwindle away and become a shadow of yourself. A whispering little fox ghost, unable to change back into your human form.”
“A ghost?” Sakami echoed, distressed. The possibility had not occurred to her before. “But I died. . .so I suppose I am a kind of a ghost already.”
Chinatsu let her hands slowly fall away, setting her free. Sakami sensed that the Celestial Fox’s attention was distracted, that she had honored her acolyte long enough. And sure enough, Chinatsu turned and, without a word, slipped into the darkness of the shrine, her white hair floating behind her like a thistledown cloak.
“What can I do?” Sakami cried, panicked.
“Go home.” The command drifted back to her on a heady waft of incense-perfumed air.
But I can’t go back yet. Sakami stood in the forecourt, scrunching her hands into tight, determined fists. Not until the sword is ready.
***
Yūgiri gazed around him: Kinkiyo’s little house was crammed with Red Kites, all enthusiastically shoveling in Beniko and Sakami’s freshly cooked food and holding up their sake bowls for the smith to refill them.
“Raiko’s already had too much,” Naoki murmured to Yūgiri as the youngest retainer’s laughter grew louder and his cheeks flushed bright red. “Are you good at curing a hangover?”
Yūgiri smiled. “Or would it be better to let him suffer and learn from his mis
takes?”
“That’s harsh coming from you, Yūgiri,” Naoki said, his sake bowl halfway to his lips.
Yūgiri gave a little shrug. “Of course, if my lord were to order me to –” He broke off as he sensed a sudden breath of briny air, redolent of the deep sea, salting the clear evening.
I can smell the ocean.
Glancing up, he saw that Sakami was staring toward the open door.
Can it be. . . ? His heart began to beat faster; confusion mingling with disbelief. Surely Masao wouldn’t come so far inland? So close to the imperial palace? Does he want to be caught? That’s just – stupid.
Another waft of sea-stung breeze. . .
Sakami turned her head and gave him a little nod, as if to say, ‘Go on.’
Yūgiri’s instinct was to push his food aside and run at full pelt out of the open door, down to the river bank. But the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself so he quietly laid down his chopsticks and stood up, bowing to Lord Naoki and then his hosts.
“Can’t hold your sake, Shaman?” Kinkiyo said, laughing.
“I need to keep a clear head,” Yūgiri said, “or I won’t be able to work my craft when others need me in the morning. A little night air will set me right.”
Once outside in the moonlit darkness, he waited a moment for his sight to adjust, all the while sensing the unmistakably alien aura of Tide Dragon emanating from the river: a shimmer of silvered scales, the sinuously undulating coils of the ageless sea creature, determinedly powering through the dark water. And the stronger it became, the more strongly he was drawn to it, until he was running as fast as he could down the steep path toward the water, running as if his life depended on it.
As the last clouds slid away from the face of the moon, the cold light illumined the figure of a man emerging from the murky depths of the river. Yūgiri stared, entranced. Water cascaded from his naked body – but with a deft gesture, he conjured out of the air the illusion of clothes: the simple black jacket and hakama worn by the Kite shinobi.
“How did you learn to do that?”
“Sakami taught Kai,” Masao started up the bank toward him. “And then Kai taught me.”