Shadow of the Fox

by Julie Kagawa

  Gazing around, I spotted a large square building on the corner of the street, blue curtains over the door welcoming in travelers. A ryokan.

  That will have to do.

  I stalked around the circle, found Yumeko in the sea of dancers and grabbed her by the arm. She jumped, gazing at me with large black eyes, and I felt an odd churning sensation in my stomach.

  “Oh, Tatsumi-san.” She blinked, then gave me a somewhat wry smile. “Did you change your mind? Were you so moved by the proverb of the kawauso and the Jade Prophet that you decided to give fun a try?”

  I glared at her. “That wasn’t even a real proverb.”

  “But it can still teach a valuable lesson. You don’t want to become a mean old river otter, do you?”

  Setting my jaw, I pulled her to the edge of the square, then nodded to the end of the street. “Do you see the building on the corner?” I asked in a furtive voice. “The one with the largest lantern and the blue curtains over the doorway?”

  She gazed over the heads of the crowd. “The ryokan?”

  So, she knew what an inn was, at least. Good. “Take these,” I said, and dropped a trio of silver tora into her open palm. The coins clinked against each other; three silver disks with the imprint of a snarling tiger in the center. “Go to the inn. Use the money to get us a room for the night. That should cover everything.”

  She gazed at the money in her hands, then back up at me. “Where are you going?”

  “I have...business to take care of. I won’t be long.”

  “Business.” Her brow furrowed. “At this time of night?” When I didn’t answer, the frown deepened. “Why can’t we go together?”

  “That is not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  Irritation flared, mingled with a hint of fear. “You ask a lot of questions,” I told her in a cold voice. Questions were dangerous. Questions would get her killed faster than anything else. “Perhaps there are things you don’t need to know.”

  She shrank back, then sighed and closed her fingers tightly around the coins. “Just...promise you’ll come back,” she said quietly. “That you won’t disappear into the night and I’ll never see you again. Swear to me that you’ll come back.”

  “I have no intention of leaving.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded once and stepped away, but I abruptly reached out and caught her sleeve, making her turn. “I want the same promise,” I told her, and a flicker of confusion crossed her face. “That you’ll remain at the inn. That you won’t try to leave or follow me. Stay in the room until I return, Yumeko. Promise me.”

  She nodded. “I will.”

  “Go, then.” I released her, and she started across the street toward the ryokan, clutching the handful of coins. I watched until she had ducked through the doorway beneath the curtains, then turned and walked back the way we’d come.

  Something rustled in my hand. When I opened my fist, the folded paper crane stirred and unfurled crumpled black wings. With several flaps, the paper creature rose into the air like a dying butterfly and flitted away.

  I followed. The crane led me past the square, the drums still pounding out their booming rhythm, to a narrow alley between a teahouse and a textiles shop. The origami creature continued into the corridor, flitting over the ground, but I paused at the entrance and gazed into the dark. Overhead, a single string of chochin stretched away for a good fifty feet, illuminating the wooden walls on either side, before ending at an intersection. Wary of attacks and threats hidden in the shadows, I stepped into the alley.

  Directly above me, a lantern flickered once and went out. The next one followed, going dark as its flame was extinguished, as did the next, and the next. One by one, all the chochin on the string down the alley sputtered and went out, plunging the narrow space into complete darkness.

  I kept walking. Darkness was no cause for alarm; I was more comfortable in the shadows than the light. I followed the dying lanterns until I reached the intersection and stopped, gazing down one road, then the other. They stretched away between buildings, cutting a narrow path behind stores and warehouses, completely empty and dark.

  “Hello, Tatsumi.”

  The soft, high voice echoed behind me. And even though I recognized it, I stifled the urge to spin and draw my sword, forcing myself to turn calmly. A figure sat in the back doorway of a storehouse, cloaked in shadow, where nothing had been before. His robes, black and unmarked, billowed around him, and his long hair fell loose down his shoulders and back. His face was painted white, with heavy lines of black around his eyes and down his chin. He wore a single short sword at his waist, but his skills were not of the blade, though they were just as deadly. He was kami-touched, what ordinary people would call a majutsushi, or magic user. All the clans had a few unique individuals whose talents reflected their family’s element, but the majutsushi were by far the strongest and most powerful. As a Kage shinobi, I could work small Shadow magics—become invisible or create a ghostly twin, the talents of darkness and misdirection. But within Iwagoto, there were majutsushi that could turn the very land against you, call down fire or lightning, or heal a fatal wound in a few heartbeats. The mages of the Kage were not as destructively impressive as the Fire Clan, or miracle workers like the Water Clan; their command of the night and everything in it was subtle, though no less dangerous.

  “Jomei-san,” I said, and bowed, feeling his gaze follow my every move. “So it’s your turn to check up on me, I see.”

  “That’s not a very nice greeting, Tatsumi-san,” Jomei said in his high, breathy voice. “If I was the type, I might be offended. You know why we must do this.”

  “I know.”

  “Kamigoroshi is not something we take lightly,” Jomei went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “We of the Shadow Clan know darkness better than most. We dance with it every day, and walk a very thin line between the shadows and the abyss. We know the evil that lurks in the hidden places of Iwagoto, and in the souls of men. And we know, more than any other clan, how easy it is to fall.

  “You are the bearer of the Cursed Blade,” Jomei went on. “Kamigoroshi, Hakaimono, whatever you wish to call it—that sword has corrupted the souls of better men than you, Kage Tatsumi. We have taught you how to resist its influence, trained you in the ways of the Kage shinobi. And yet, we know the terrible evil you carry, that one day, you might succumb to the darkness.” His eyes narrowed. “Which is why we follow you, why these meetings are essential. If there is any hint that you are losing the battle with Hakaimono, we must take care of it immediately, before you lose yourself and the true demon is released.”

  I bowed my head. He was right, of course. What had come over me? I had never spoken to the majutsushi like that. Perhaps Yumeko’s peasant mannerisms were affecting my judgment. “Forgive my outburst, Master Jomei,” I said. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Good. Now...” Jomei settled back, lacing his fingers under his chin as he watched me. “Since you seem to have a handle on Kamigoroshi, what of your mission? Did you reach the Silent Winds temple? Were you able to retrieve the scroll?”

  “No.” I straightened, stifling all emotion. I was a weapon. I felt nothing. “It was gone when I got there.”

  “Gone?” Jomei’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean gone? Are you saying that the mission was a failure?”

  “An army of amanjaku attacked the temple. They were led by an oni.” Jomei’s brows arched; demons were something the Shadow Clan took very seriously. “The master of the temple sensed them coming,” I went on, “and sent the scroll away before they could reach it.”

  “An oni.” The other Kage’s voice was grave. “Merciful Kami, who is summoning oni into this realm? Did you kill it?”

  “No.”

  His lips thinned. “Tatsumi-san, I understand that you have been taught to answer only wha
t is asked of you, but I am going to need a little more information than that. Please give me the full report of your mission and all the important details. Leave nothing out.”

  “As you wish.” And I proceeded to tell him what had happened that night, everything from fighting the amanjaku to meeting Yumeko and agreeing to accompany her to Kin Heigen Toshi. I told him of the plan to find Master Jiro at the Hayate shrine, in the hopes that he could show us the way to the Steel Feather temple and the scroll that had eluded me.

  “I see,” Jomei said when I was done. He steepled two fingers together and tapped them against his lips. “The Steel Feather temple has been lost to legend,” he murmured. “There are tales that it is protected by supernatural guardians, but no one knows where it is for certain, if it even exists.” His gaze flicked to me again, hard and appraising. “Are you certain that accompanying the girl is the only way you can reach this Master Jiro?”

  “I know the name of the shrine,” I replied. “I could find it on my own. But the priest would have no cause to reveal what he knows to me. The girl was part of the Silent Winds temple, part of the order that protected the scroll. He will talk to her. And if she can show me the way to my objective, I would do better to follow.”

  Jomei sighed. “Very well.” He nodded. “Continue to travel with her for now. If this Master Jiro knows the location of the Steel Feather temple and the scroll, you must find it at all costs. But be careful. The girl must not discover anything she has not already heard about the Shadow Clan. As soon as you are in possession of the scroll, return to Lady Hanshou.”

  I bowed. “I understand.”

  “I must inform Hanshou-sama of this,” Jomei murmured. “Demons would have no use for the scroll. Someone is sending them.” He rose gracefully, robes falling around him, and gave me a faint smile. “We’ll be watching you, Tatsumi-san. Don’t disappoint us.”

  I bowed once more, and when I rose, Jomei was gone.

  The lanterns flickered, then sputtered to life one by one, illuminating the empty alley. I retraced my steps to the main road and made my way back to the inn where I had sent Yumeko.

  I ducked beneath the curtain over the door then straightened and gazed around the entrance. A raised wooden floor sat a few steps away, with a couple benches placed along the walls to accommodate travelers. Across the room, a staircase ascended to the top floor where I assumed the guest accommodations were located. A woman, probably the hostess, hurried toward me, smiling and then dropping into a bow at the edge of the raised floor.

  “Welcome, sir,” she announced. “Please, come in. Will you be needing a room for the night?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But there was a girl here earlier. In a red kimono with a white sash. She should have gotten us a room.”

  “Oh?” The hostess frowned slightly, glancing at the door. “She was your companion, was she? Well, she’s not here anymore.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What happened? Where is she?”

  “There was a girl like that here,” the hostess continued, sounding nervous now. “Just a few minutes ago, in fact. A cute little thing in a red kimono. But then, a wind blew in out of nowhere. It was so strong it nearly knocked me down. And when I looked up, the girl was gone.”

  11

  Weasels on the Wind

  It began with a strange wind.

  I’d meant to get a room, I really had. And food. And maybe a bath. But especially food. I was starving, and the idea of sitting in a clean room eating a hot meal, instead of in the wilderness chewing on wild plants, sounded wonderful. Even though I was extremely curious about where Tatsumi was running off to, following him, especially when I had the Dragon’s scroll hidden in my furoshiki, seemed like a bad idea.

  Besides, he’d promised me he would return. I had to trust he would keep his word and come back.

  But then, as I stepped over the threshold, a vicious blast of wind tossed my hair and caused me to stumble forward. The wind swirled through the doorway, ripping at the curtains and extinguishing the lanterns inside and out, plunging the room into shadow.

  As I straightened, a lock of my hair suddenly fell to the floor, sliced clean through, as if by a very sharp blade.

  My eyes widened, and a flutter of alarm went through me. I looked up to see a pair of beady red eyes watching me from atop one of the lanterns on the ceiling. They were attached to a furry brown creature with a pointed muzzle, small rounded ears, and a long, sinewy body.

  A weasel? I frowned. An ordinary-looking weasel, except...

  My mouth fell open. Except for the long, sickle-shaped blades growing right out of its forelegs. Curved and deadly looking, they extended behind the creature’s elbows and glimmered in the darkness of the room. Not a normal weasel at all, I realized. A creature that possessed magic or other supernatural powers. A yokai.

  Like me.

  The weasel thing hissed, baring sharp yellow fangs, leaped off the statue and disappeared.

  Another wind sliced through the ryokan, flapping the curtains, making me wince and stumble back. As I regained my balance, I felt a stinging sensation against my cheek and put a hand to my face.

  My fingers came away smeared with blood.

  Heart pounding, I looked through the doorway. The weasel thing was perched on the roof of a wooden vendor stall across the street, still watching me with eyes like embers in the shadows. I dropped my hand from the shallow cut across my cheek.

  It wants me to follow it.

  The other people in the room hadn’t noticed the intruder. They were still straightening up, recovering from being nearly knocked down, twice, by the mysterious wind. If I didn’t leave, the weasel thing might keep coming back and slashing at others with those wickedly curved blades. Besides, I was curious, intrigued by the presence of another yokai, and a full-blooded one at that. It might be common to see them in the woods or mountains, but they tended to avoid large towns and places with lots of people. If the weasel yokai had shown himself to me here, it was for a reason.

  Wiping my cheek with the back of my sleeve, I left the inn and hurried back into the streets of Chochin Machi.

  The yokai flowed with the wind, flitting from place to place, invisible when it was on the move, reappearing when it was stationary. I followed it down the main street, watching as it flew from rooftop to rooftop, making the lanterns sway wildly in its wake. People stumbled as it passed overhead, holding on to their robes and parasols as the wind gusted by.

  “What strange weather,” someone muttered as I passed. “I wasn’t aware that Chochin Machi was so windy.”

  I followed the creature down a narrow alley, watching the lanterns overhead dance and bounce until it turned a corner and we came to a dead end. With a blast of wind, the weasel thing twisted into the air and vanished. I waited, but neither the wind nor the yokai reappeared; the air was still and silent, and the passage was empty.

  I frowned. So that weasel thing just wanted to trick me. And now I’m lost. I gazed around, wondering if I could retrace my steps back to the ryokan. Except I had no idea where I was. Denga-san would find this hilarious.

  A soft chuckle came from behind me, low and mocking. “Well, hello, little fox. Wandering lonely back alleys all by yourself?”

  I spun. A woman stood atop a roof, framed by the light of the moon. She was tall and slender, wearing an elegant kimono decorated with swirling white clouds against a sky blue background. Her hair was long, unbound and rippled like strands of ink in the wind. Billowy sleeves draped her arms, hanging nearly to her ankles, as she regarded me with pale, icy blue eyes.

  “Um...hello,” I greeted warily. “Is this your alley?” The woman didn’t move, and I took a cautious step back. If she realized I was kitsune, she probably wouldn’t take kindly to a strange yokai in her territory. “I’m just a little lost, so if you could just point me in the right direction...”

  The woma
n’s full lips curled as she looked me up and down. “Vermin,” she remarked, making me frown. “A filthy and revolting vermin. Just like my kamaitachi.” She raised her arm, and the weasel thing appeared on it with a blast of wind that whipped at my hair and clothes. “But at least they’re full-blooded yokai, and somewhat useful. You’re just a pathetic little half fox, aren’t you?”

  I laced back my ears. “Well that’s not very nice,” I said, feeling kitsune-bi spring to my fingertips. “We’ve only just met. Besides, foxes are not vermin—I think you’re mistaking me for a rat or cockroach.” I took a few cautious steps back. “But I seem to have caught you on a bad night, so I’ll be leaving now—”

  “Oh, you’re not going anywhere, vermin.”

  She swept her arm out, and a blast of wind ripped at my clothes, making me stumble. At the same time, I felt a blinding pain in my leg, the feeling of being cut with a knife, though I saw nothing strike me. It happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to yelp before my leg gave out and I collapsed to the ground.

  Gasping, I looked up to see a second weasel appear on the woman’s other shoulder, beady eyes in its black-masked face glaring down at me. The edge of the sickle growing from its foreleg was smeared with blood.

  “My name is Mistress Kazekira,” the woman said, as both weasels glared at me from her slender shoulders. “I am one of the kami-touched, what the common folk call a wind witch, and the kamaitachi are my familiars. So don’t think you can just run away, little vermin.” She stroked one kamaitachi’s head, but there was no affection in the gesture, only possession, and the weasel yokai cringed away from her touch. The wind witch didn’t seem to notice or care. “And I see you are as simpleminded as you are common,” she went on, wiping her hands together as if they were dirty. “I didn’t lure you out here to chat. I brought you here to kill you.”