Tails High

by Paul Kidd

  An ornate, highly manicured garden had been set along the banks of a silver stream. Artfully placed rocks and boulders turned the path this way and that, always leading to a new view of flowering trees or distant highlands. The final turn led out to a great, wide grassy space where the stream moved in a slow meander, its shallow waters shimmering above a bed of gravel.

  High ranking samurai in beautifully coloured costumes sat along the banks of the stream. They were seated upon grass matting and cushions, with delicate little trays of food and sakē set out beside them. The great orange autumn moon hung low above the ocean beside them. In a quiet alcove to one side, shirabyōshi  female musicians dressed in male court attire and bearing swords – softly played the flute and drum.

  Samurai women sat behind the men, demurely serving the menfolk with morsels of food and cups of heated sakē. The menfolk spoke to one another, waving fans and cultivating witty conversation as moonlight reflected in the waters of the stream, glittering a ghostly silver-gold.

  Servants led the Spirit Hunters to their place beside the stream. There were only two mats and cushions at the banks – intended for the men. Smaller mats were set behind, where the women could demurely keep their place.

  Sura contemptuously kicked the mat offered to her over to the bank. She cast an eye at Chiri, who blushed and did the same. A samurai seated at the opposite side of the stream glanced at them in clear disapproval. He flicked open his fan and waved it to mask his view of the new arrivals. The servants blushed and quietly moved away.

  Sura sat herself down and checked the trays beside them. Kuno a shot her a warning glance, but the fox ignored him. She poured sakē for her friends and herself, raising the cup to bow in the general direction of the man across the stream. She emptied her entire cup at a gulp.

  She felt Kuno glowering at her. The fox cocked an eye at the man.

  “What?”

  The man across the stream had a great ferocious curve of sideburns that blended with his moustache. Sura filled her cup and nodded affably to the man, but he pointedly turned aside.

  A little way upstream, the host sat in pride of place at the head of the party. Ishigi Ieyesu was thirty years old, and well used to being unthinkingly in control of affairs. He had an expensive wife behind him, and a circle of dedicated followers – all keen to be of great service to the clan’s heir.

  The man suddenly rapped his fan upon the rock beside him, and silence fell. His wife passed a brimming cup of sakē into his hand. Ishigi Ieyesu looked out across the ocean toward the moon, seeking inspiration. Finally, he sipped from the cup, then declaimed a poem in a loud, self-satisfied voice.

  “Cool autumn ocean.

  Softly sigh the night-time waves.

  Footsteps in the sand…”

  A swell of approval arose from the nearby retainers. Men applauded, and Ishigi Ieyesu bowed. He then set the cup carefully floating upon the little stream. It drifted with the current, cutting through the reflection of the golden moon. The next man downstream reached out and took hold of the cup, bowing to his host.

  The man was a priest from one of the great shrines – dressed as a noble of the court, though he had worn a ‘casual’ hat and robes for the evening’s gathering. He pondered upon the ocean for a while, tapping at the cup, then raised it to take a sip. He spoke in a sure, cultured accent, quite certain of receiving praise.

  “Cool, soft autumn winds

  Restless waves upon the shore

  My host? A seagull.”

  The gathered guests clapped their fans and nodded in approval. The nobleman allowed a woman to refill the cup, then he set it adrift once more. The next guest down the stream took hold of the cup and drank, then spoke a poem of his own – quoting a section clipped out of an ancient classic.

  Further downstream, guests spoke softly. Food was finally brought to the guests by quiet maids. Several girls hurried over to the four Spirit Hunters, who had no-one to serve them. Sura eagerly leaned over and inspected all the trays, ignoring many dubious delicacies and instead eagerly welcoming slivers of roast duck and a most excellent fried garfish. She happily ate, enjoying her food with innocent pleasure, delighting in the great shimmering moon above the waves.

  The samurai across the stream made yet another look of disgust. Sura leaned forward to show the man the garfish, heartily recommending it. The samurai smoothed his whiskers and leaned across to speak with the man next to him, pointedly ignoring her.

  Sura could have cared less. She leaned over to a very surprised samurai to her right, passing him a tray of delicacies that the man clearly coveted. He nodded to her stiffly, unsure quite what to do. He took hold of the tray, bowing thanks, flicking a glance at the moustachioed man across the stream.

  Quietly nibbling at a few morsels of food, Chiri leaned in to speak softly with Kuno.

  “Kuno san – this is somewhat beyond my training. What if they expect me to recite? I have no poem!”

  “It is permitted to merely drink and bow. But I doubt the cup will come to us.” Kuno carefully watched the faces of the gathered guests. “I believe we are here because Lord Ishigi’s son wishes to meet with us discretely later on.”

  Sura’s long ears had caught a wisp of the conversation. She surfaced from her food, quite full of joy.

  “The cup won’t come to us? Sure it will come to us!” She waved at the stream. “Stands to reason. A sure process of hydraulics!”

  The man over the stream made a noise of disgust. He set his chopsticks aside with a bang.

  “You are extraordinarily forward, woman.”

  The fox gave an airy wave. “I am extraordinarily deserving!”

  The man seized an empty soup bowl and filled it with sakē. He placed it in the stream above Sura and triumphantly set it afloat.

  “Show us! Let us hear the poetry of so deserving a spirit!”

  The man had caused great consternation and affront by jumping the cue. Much glowering disapproval was cast his way, with Ishigi Ieyesu watching events through narrowed eyes. The fox became the centre of attention, drawing every ear and eye.

  Sura could have cared less. She plucked out the bowl, bowed to her host, then held the drink on high.

  “What style?”

  The samurai glared. “My lord Ishigi Ieyesu has set the tone. Haiku – and the sea.”

  With huge confidence, Sura tilted back the hefty bowl. In a single draft, she drained it dry. The fox saluted the empty cup towards the waves.

  “The boy stands alone.

  Brightly burning is the deck!

  All others have fled.”

  A warrior further down the stream laughed aloud, extremely pleased. Sura bowed happily to the man. He bowed to her in reply, then raised a cup to the glowering samurai.

  “Funaji san! Did you expect to get the better of a fox by letting her talk?”

  The fox called back to the man in joy.

  “My deepest regret is that talking cuts into my time to eat and drink!” She bowed generously to the seething man across the stream. “You have given me a drink, honoured samurai. Please allow me to return the favour!”

  Sura filled the bowl and pushed it out into the stream. Funaji stiffened, bristling with dislike. But the samurai saw the cold eyes of his lord resting upon him. Fuming, the man stiffly seized the floating bowl, bowed to Sura and drank.

  The music surged back into life. Stilled conversations slowly resumed. Up at the top of the stream, the official sakē cup was set back into motion. Poems were carefully and clearly declaimed.

  Kuno settled back. He had half anticipated having to draw his sword. He met Daitanishi’s eye, and the little rock bobbed in place of a shrug.

  The party continued sedately. Tonbo settled back with Kuno, seized another garfish, and kept scanning carefully. Kuno joined him in watching the guests, trying to gain a feel for the crowd.

  “What do you think?”

  “Mmmph.” Tonbo looked carefully at the gardens, his eyes on every shadow.
<
br />   “Good garfish.”

  The party wore on for another half an hour, with the shirabyōshi musicians finally coming forth to dance and sing in the gleaming moonlight. People scattered out into smaller groups, talking by the stream or eating and drinking.

  A young page appeared and discretely murmured into Kuno’s ear. Kuno stood, nodding to his companions. The Spirit Hunters quietly stood and faded back into the shadows. They followed the young page back to the edge of the garden, where a bower of trees closed in about the stream.

  A little teahouse had been placed beneath the trees. It was guarded by two discrete, well-armed samurai who stood watchfully in the shadows at a distance. The young page bowed, and the Spirit Hunters made their way forward, with Bifuuko and Daitanishi fanning quietly out to keep careful watch from above.

  Ishigi Ieyesu sat in the darkened tea house, waiting for his guests. The lord’s ornate silver sword fittings glittered in the gloom. His robes seemed to have been purchased as a show of wealth instead of taste.

  The Spirit Hunters all knelt and bowed. Kuno spoke, acknowledging his host’s generosity.

  “My lord Ishigi Ieyesu. We have the great honour to be acquainted with your esteemed father. We are grateful for your invitation.”

  Ieyesu gave a cool, thoughtful nod.

  “He has mentioned you, Spirit Hunter.”

  “Ieyesu sama, I am Imperial Deputy Asodo Kuno. May I present the priestess Kitsune Sura. The shugenja Nezumi Chiri, and my colleague Tsunetomo Tonbo.”

  Ishigi Ieyesu smoothed his sleeves in place with a crack of his hand. He cast a cold eye over his guests.

  “It would seem my aim of a discrete meeting has failed.”

  Sura gave the man a genial little bow, shaking her head.

  “My lord – I must admit, your plan was flawed.” She bowed again, and let her attempted levity slide. “But it is a serious thing, for a lord to wish to see us, unattended. How may the Spirit Hunters be of assistance?”

  Sat in the shadows with hands resting on his thighs, Ishigi Ieyesu was a grim, controlled man. He seemed to have no spark of his father’s joy of life.

  “My father has spoken of you with high praise. I must now rely upon your integrity and discretion.” The man gave a scowl. “I ask you on your honour that what I reveal must not be passed to any other source. Please take my assurance that what I reveal will in no way impose upon your other oaths of duty.”

  Kuno gave a stiff, military bow.

  “I understand, lord. We will honour your desire for silence.”

  Ishigi Ieyesu contemplated a distasteful reality. He turned to glare off towards the sea.

  “Once, the Ishigi clan were mighty. Long ago, when the imperial family were warriors, we were a branch of the imperial house. An off-shoot, allowed to grow on our own. But centuries of wars and troubles changed our fortunes. We dwindled…”

  The heir to the Ishigi clan clenched his hands.

  “We are a minor clan – belittled by the powerful houses, unable to compete in trade and battle. But we still have place and honour. Many of the most sacred sites and treasures of the empire were placed under our guardianship long ago. While we have them in our care, we still have prestige.”

  The man tapped his fan against his thigh, and glowered out into the night.

  “There are three sacred treasures used to crown a new emperor. ‘Grass-cutter’, the sword of the first emperor. A necklace of beads worn by the great Kami – and a mirror in which the reflected image of the sun goddess is forever captured. All three must be present at a coronation, for they show the approval of the gods for the new emperor.

  “The sacred mirror is kept in the Otoyama shrine a few ri to the north. It is well guarded by my own men. To my shame, this has been to no avail. The sacred mirror of the gods has been stolen.”

  The man hunched his shoulders.

  “Two nights ago, two huge, one-eyed, shape shifting monsters infiltrated the shrine. They were apparently able to take the form of the guards and monks, killing them and somehow wearing their skins. We could not have prepared for such creatures. They were even immune to spirit wards.”

  Sura lifted her head, extremely interested. The fox nodded, seeing it all in her mind’s eye.

  “Mamono. The ‘Stealers of Skins’. They are not spirits. They would have ignored your spirit wards.” She swirled her tail. “They attacked at night?”

  Ishigi Ieyesu gave a terse, sharp nod.

  “Yes.”

  “Full sunlight burns them when they are uncovered.” Sura scratched her chin, pondering the news carefully. “They are very rare and very careful. You have powerful enemies, Ieyesu Sama.”

  “Yes, reibai.” Ishigi Ieyesu’s fan creaked in his grasp. “This theft dooms our clan. Were it to become known, I would be forced to commit seppuku with my father in shame. My family would be stripped of all its honours. The Ishigi would be at an end.”

  There was a moment’s silence. Ishigi Ieyesu finally turned to point inland.

  “The tracks left by these creatures led to a Buddhist monastery in the Nishigo hills. We have secured the area as best we can. But we cannot publicly search the monastery, or else rumour of our shame would be known. We need someone experienced in such matters to subtly and carefully search for the monsters, and to return the mirror.

  “Thus far, the theft is secret. A decoy mirror has been placed at the temple. But in ten days’ time, there will be a ceremony in which the mirror is to be given new wrappings. At that time, the theft will be public knowledge.”

  Ishigi Ieyesu gave a reluctant bow.

  “My father holds your abilities in high regard. Spirit Hunters, for my father’s sake, I request that you retrieve the mirror of the Sun Goddess.”

  Kuno was deeply moved to be entrusted with so vital a mission. He bowed low, in great sincerity.

  “Ieyesu Sama, we are honoured that you should trust us with the future of your clan. We are not worthy.”

  Sura thought about it, and disagreed. “Oh yes we are!”

  The lord grunted, and continued looking out through the darkened garden.

  “Ask any reward, and it shall be yours.”

  Kuno raised a hand. “We are sensible of the great compliment you pay us, my lord. The honour of fulfilling your expectations will be glory enough.”

  Sura innocently tapped at her chin.

  “But a hundred gold koku, cash in advance, will add a great lustre to the glory.”

  Sometime later, the Spirit Hunters walked thoughtfully back down the castle hill.

  The streets of the town were still lit by bright lanterns, but the revellers had largely gone. Festivities had died away, there were no longer diners and singers in the streets, but the inns were still busy, and much drinking was underway. Sura ignored it all, walking head down with her tail swishing in thought.

  Daitanishi floated along at her shoulder, mirroring the fox’s expression.

  The fox hefted a packet of heavy gold coins that had been wrapped in a cotton towel, suspicions turning over in her mind. Tonbo and Chiri wore faces wrought with deep concern. For his part, Kuno was also frowning – his mind still shocked and impressed at the importance of their mission.

  They reached the main street. A few drunks were wandering off towards their homes: a girl giggled in a house nearby. Chiri scuttled aside and away from a pair of men laughing and holding onto one another for support. She hastened to keep pace with her friends.

  The rat shook her head. The mission was an unexpected burden that weighed heavily on her spirit.

  “This is a very dire responsibility.”

  Kuno could only agree. “I am stunned that the Ishigi should entrust non clan members with such a secret.”

  Sura’s tail curled thoughtfully behind her.

  “Yes. It sets me thinking, too.” She flicked an eye to her left. “Tonbo?”

  Tonbo grunted – clearly in agreement with her mood. Kuno looked over at the fox in shock.

  “What
do you imply, Sura san?”

  “I imply that Lord Ishigi’s son does nothing whatsoever without a reason…” Sura jogged the packet of money up and down. “Or in other words – payment up front.”

  Kuno was still mortified with Sura’s behaviour in front of the lord. He felt quite incensed.

  “I cannot believe you had the effrontery to ask for a hundred koku!”

  “I can’t believe I was too dumb to push him for two…” The fox gave a sigh. “Ah well, we can use it. Keeping you and Tonbo in armour lacings is costing us a fortune. And these outfits aren’t cheap!”

  The road came to a little rise. In one direction, the ocean shimmered and glittered in the moonlight. But in the other direction, great forested hills rose black against the stars. The Spirit Hunters stopped and stared off towards the hills.

  The monastery was perhaps six ri away, up the hills and high in the forest. Sura planted one fist upon her hip and gazed at the hills, brows creasing in thought.

  “Why? Why would the mirror be stolen now? The damned thing has sat at Lake Mountain shrine for centuries!”

  Kuno nodded, keeping one hand upon his sword.

  “Someone intends the Ishigi clan harm…”

  Sura made a quiet, thoughtful noise.

  “Something reeks like my auntie’s sashimi. We are not being told the entire tale…”

  They all looked up at the hills, picturing the monastery.

  Sura finally gave a nod.

  “Right… well, we have a couple of good outfitters here. There’s some good resources. Porters, couriers, weavers…” The fox’s tail tip flicked and jittered as she amassed ideas. “Yes…”

  Scratching slowly at his chin, Tonbo frowned with eyes still on the hills.

  “A monastery… We will have to infiltrate it without alarming the monsters, without triggering the suspicion of the monks…”

  Chiri nodded, gently stroking Bifuuko. “I can hide as a rat in the rafters. This will allow me to spy.”