Shadow of the Fox

by Julie Kagawa

  “Excuse me.” I rose, causing all three to look my way. The ronin frowned, one cheek bulging like a squirrel.

  “Where you going, Kage?”

  “I must take care of a small matter. I’ll return shortly.” Without waiting for an answer, I walked away, feeling Yumeko’s eyes on my back as I left. The ronin grunted, muttered something about “Toilets,” and continued eating as I ducked through the curtained doorway into the streets.

  Outside, the sun had set. Many of the shops had closed their doors, though there were a few stubborn businesses that continued to stay open even after dark. I walked to the edge of the main road and felt the paper crane in my sleeve stir. It slipped out and fluttered away down a narrow side street, becoming lost in the darkness. Setting my jaw, I followed.

  Jomei was waiting for me in the shadows of a warehouse, his painted face seeming to hover against the black. The paper crane perched on his knee, fanning its wings as if it were truly alive.

  “You’re late.”

  I bowed so he wouldn’t sense my reluctance. Why was I feeling so hesitant tonight? This meeting was the same as all the others. “Forgive me, Master Jomei. I was held up. There were...complications.”

  “Yes, I saw that.” The mage’s voice was faintly amused. “You’ve picked up quite the party, Tatsumi-san. Now, not only is there a girl, but an uncouth ronin dog following you about. Would you care to explain why you haven’t killed him yet, or at least lost him somewhere along the road?”

  “He was part of a bandit gang that ambushed us,” I began. “But he ended up turning on them instead. Yumeko...insisted that we help him, after the fight.”

  “The peasant girl told you not to kill the bandit,” Jomei said. “And you listened to her?”

  “She’s my only lead to Master Jiro and the Steel Feather temple,” I replied. “If I’d killed the ronin, it might’ve frightened her, or angered her. I couldn’t take the risk that she would leave.”

  Jomei pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, briefly closing his eyes. “This girl is becoming more and more problematic,” he muttered, and a shiver of unease crept up my spine. If Jomei thought Yumeko was becoming a danger to the clan, or if he believed she was no longer essential to my mission, he would give the order to have her and the ronin killed. He might order me to dispose of them both on an isolated stretch of road outside the city. No one would notice, or care, if a ronin and a peasant girl suddenly disappeared without a trace. Both of them were dangerously naive, far too trusting of the demon beside them. Oni no Mikoto might be a local legend, but a real demon lurked in their midst, hungering for blood, for their very souls. They wouldn’t suspect a thing until it appeared and cut them down. If Jomei gave the order to kill both my companions, it would be all too easy to carry it out.

  And I...didn’t want to do it. The notion shocked me. I’d never questioned orders before, never faltered in what I had to do. If I was told to “cleanse” a hamlet because the villagers were using blood magic to summon demons, I would slaughter every man, woman and child there. If they ordered me to Jigoku to slay O-Hakumon, the ruler of hell himself, I would jump into the abyss without a second thought. My life was not my own. As always, duty to the Shadow Clan was everything.

  “Am I to kill her, Master Jomei?” I asked softly. My stomach tightened, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe. If my orders were to kill Yumeko, so be it. I would carry out my duty, as I’d always done. And I would hope that, somehow, her face would not haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Jomei sighed. “No,” he said, igniting a sudden and unexpected flare of relief. “If she can truly lead you to the scroll, there’s no reason to kill her yet. Right now, she is naive and harmless, and the ronin seems a bumbling fool. Continue traveling with them, if you must. As long as they pose no threat to the secrets of the clan.”

  I bowed my head. “As you wish, Master Jomei.”

  “When you reach the capital, be sure to check in with Kage Masao in the Shadow Clan district. He’ll be expecting you.”

  “Understood.”

  “Oh, and here.” The shadow mage tossed something at me. I caught it with a clink; a circle of cord strung with copper kaeru and a few silver tora. “Your stipend for the month. Since you seem to have an extra mouth to feed. Make it last.”

  “Thank you, Master Jomei.”

  “Go, then.” Jomei waved a hand, dismissing me. “Return to your ‘companions’ before they grow suspicious of where you are. Remember,” he added as I bowed once more and turned away, “the clan will be watching them, and you, demonslayer. Do not give us a reason to act.”

  When I returned to the table in the corner, most of the food was gone. The plates were picked over, with only bones and scraps remaining. Only my bowl of rice sat untouched on the edge, though the ronin was eyeing it as if contemplating snatching that up, as well.

  “Sorry, Tatsumi-san,” Yumeko said as I knelt across from her on the cushion. “I tried to keep baka-Okame from eating everything, but he didn’t want to share. We can order more, if you like.”

  “Dogs don’t share, Yumeko-chan.” The ronin grinned, using a fish bone to pick at his teeth. “We’re horrible gluttons like that. Besides, who wolfed down a dozen fried tofu balls all by herself?”

  “Because you had already eaten all the fish, and the chicken, and most of the squid. If I didn’t claim something there would’ve been nothing left.”

  “That’s not true. I left you the pickled radish.”

  “I hate pickled radish.”

  “Well, be faster next time. When it comes to food among thieves, Yumeko-chan, it is every man, woman and dog for themselves.”

  I ate my rice in silence.

  22

  The Eyes of a Dead Crow

  Never taunt a hungry fox was a saying Master Isao had been unusually fond of. I’d always wondered why, until now.

  We left Yashigi the next morning and for several miles walked down a meandering dirt road through the fertile valley of the Sun Clan. The mountains remained in the distance as we followed the river past farming communities, temples and shrines, open meadows and dense woodland. The scenery was beautiful, the weather perfect in every way; I was fully enjoying the sights and the feel of the sun on my skin.

  The ronin seemed less enthusiastic.

  “Ite,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as we stopped in the shade of a bamboo grove. “Kuso, my back is sore. That inn must’ve had the lumpiest futon in the world. It felt like there was a damn pinecone right in the middle of the mattress, but when I pulled it up there was nothing there.”

  “That’s unfortunate, Okame-san,” I said. “My futon was so comfortable, it was like I was sleeping on clouds. Maybe it was something you ate?”

  He glared at me, suspicion flaring in his dark gaze. “I seem to remember you poking around my corner of the room right before we went to sleep,” he said accusingly. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with my lumpy mattress, would you, Yumeko-chan?”

  “Me? What a wicked thing to imply, Okame-san. I mean, you checked under your futon, right? It’s not like I could make a pinecone look like a bit of dust on the floor.” I smiled at him sweetly and tossed a pickled plum into my mouth. I was beginning to get the hang of this sarcasm thing. “Perhaps all the boiled squid was giving you a stomachache?”

  “Quiet,” Tatsumi growled. “Something is watching us.”

  We fell silent. Around us, the woods were still, beams of sunlight slanting through the bamboo. Cicadas droned, and a breeze rustled the stalks, muffling the sound of approach. I didn’t sense anything dangerous, but Tatsumi possessed an almost supernatural premonition for things that wished us harm. If he said something was watching us, I believed him.

  “I don’t see anything,” Okame said, just as I spotted what Tatsumi did. Across the road, a large black crow sat hunched atop a tre
e branch, feathers bristling like quills, beady eyes unblinking as it stared at us.

  Okame, following my gaze, let out a snort. “Oh, how horrifying, a bird is watching us,” he gasped, putting a hand on his heart. “Watch yourself, Yumeko-chan, it might poop in your hair.”

  The crow didn’t move. It stared at us with intense, sullen hostility, and I felt a shiver creep up my back. “I don’t like the way it’s watching us,” I said. “It looks...angry.”

  “Really? Looks like a bird to me,” the ronin said. When I didn’t answer, he shrugged and unshouldered his longbow. “Here then, I’ll fix it.”

  In one smooth motion, he raised the bow and loosed an arrow at the tree, and the muffled thump of the dart striking home rang out a second later. The crow let out a strangled caw and tumbled from the branch in a flutter of wings and black feathers.

  As it fell, a strange sensation rippled through the air, a subtle release of power that raised the hair on my arms. All magic had a certain feel, I’d discovered. Fox magic flickered and pulsed like heatless fire. The monks’ ki energy tingled like the air before a storm. Tatsumi’s shadow magic was almost invisible, but it was still there if you were very observant; it felt like a cool, dark mist settling over your skin.

  This felt like a million spiders, maggots and centipedes were wriggling under my clothes. I shuddered, but as quickly as it had come, the feeling faded as the magic scattered to the wind and was gone.

  “There.” The ronin shouldered his weapon, seeming oblivious to the strange energy pulse. “Fixed. No more creepy birds. We can go now, right?”

  Tatsumi sighed. “You might have made it worse.”

  Resisting the urge to flail my arms to make sure there were no insects in my sleeves, I walked across the road to where the bird had fallen. Circling the trunk, I saw the arrow tip poking up from the weeds and peered down, expecting to see the corpse of a large black crow.

  A chill went through my stomach. There was no body, not technically. The arrow shaft, jutting up from the dirt, pierced the rib cage of a bleached white skeleton, fragile wing bones crumpled in the grass, surrounded by feathers. The skull lay against a tree root, beak open in a last indignant caw, completely bare of skin. It looked like it had been dead for months, rather than the few seconds it took to cross the road.

  I swallowed hard, feeling the two boys come up behind me and peer over my shoulder. Okame let out a low curse, as I stepped closer to Tatsumi, glancing up at his expression. “That’s not normal, is it?” I asked in a small voice. “I’m pretty certain that’s not normal.”

  “No,” Tatsumi answered, his eyes narrowed to violet slits. “It’s blood magic.”

  A shudder went through me. Blood magic. Master Isao had told me about it, once, as a warning. Unlike normal magic, where it was believed the kami-touched were chosen by the gods themselves, blood magic could be performed by nearly anyone, from the lowliest farmer to the highest-ranking magistrate. As its name suggested, blood fueled its power; the more blood spilled, the stronger the spell. It could raise the dead, manipulate emotions, or summon a demon from the depths of Jigoku. But such power came with a hidden, terrible price. Blood magic was the magic of death and corruption, the magic of Jigoku. The more you used it, the more pieces of your soul you gave away, bit by bit, until you were a husk of something that had once been human. Eventually the practitioner was consumed by the darkness of his own making and became one of Jigoku’s own, an oni or other demon, damned to the abyss until the end of time.

  “Blood magic.” The ronin curled a lip at the pile of feathers and bones at the bottom of the tree. “Well, that’s great, now I’ve killed someone’s favorite abomination. There’s probably a fuming blood mage out there who’s making a wara ningyo in my image right now.”

  “Unlikely,” Tatsumi said. Wara ningyo, straw dolls fashioned in the target’s image, were a common item for carrying out curses, but they needed a bit of the victim itself—hair, blood or fingernails—for the ritual to work. Once, when I was younger and angry at being made to repolish the floor in the main hall, I’d used fox magic to make a bit of straw look like a curse doll and hung it outside Denga’s quarters. It was hard not to wince at what had come next. That was the one and only time I could remember Master Isao being furious with me.

  And then, I had another thought, one that turned everything inside me to ice. “Someone sent this thing,” I said, looking at Tatsumi. “To follow us. Because of the scroll.” Quickly, I added, “Because they think we have it. Or that we know where it is.”

  “Wait, what?” The ronin stared at me like my ears had suddenly appeared. “Clearly, I’ve missed the first half of this story,” he said. “Back up a bit. Who’s following us? What’s this scroll you keep talking about?”

  Tatsumi didn’t answer, but I saw him stiffen. Clearly, he did not like talking about the scroll, especially in the company of the ronin. I didn’t, either. I could feel the scroll case hidden within the furoshiki, my great, terrible secret. But it made sense. Master Isao had warned that many would be searching for the scroll, armies of men, yokai and demons trying to find it. Ruthless mortals who would stop at nothing to acquire its power. And if that was the case, then...

  “Whoever is using these dead crows to spy on us,” I continued, as the realization slowly unfurled like a roll of parchment, “could be behind the attack on the temple. The one who sent the demons to kill everyone and steal the scroll.”

  I gazed at Tatsumi, who still hadn’t moved or changed expression. “It’s possible, isn’t it?” I asked. “Demons wouldn’t have any use for the scroll. Someone sent them. A blood mage.”

  “Yes,” he admitted at last. “Demons...don’t just appear in the mortal realm for no reason,” he went on, looking reluctant to explain. “Either a mortal has been consumed by darkness and has turned into one, or they’re summoned from Jigoku using blood magic. Oni, especially, are extremely powerful and almost impossible to control for long. It would take a talented blood mage to summon and bind one to do its bidding, even for a short while.”

  “And now we’re talking about oni,” said Okame. “Oni, blood mages and demons. Should I start screaming now, or should I wait till you get to the part with the eighty-foot skeleton?” Looking at me, he shook his head. “And here I thought you were a simple and innocent peasant girl, Yumeko-chan. How did you get involved with demons and blood magic?”

  “Well...”

  “Explain later,” Tatsumi said brusquely. “We should keep moving.” Scanning the road and the surrounding trees, his eyes narrowed. I followed his gaze and saw another crow perched in the branches of a tree, glaring at us. “The blood mage knows we’re onto him. It’s not safe to be out in the open. Hurry.”

  We continued down the road with a bit more urgency. I thought back to the dead crow, to the mysterious blood mage who could be following our movements, and my stomach turned in both fear and anger. Whoever had sent the amanjaku and the terrible Yaburama knew I had the Dragon scroll. They were also responsible for the deaths of Master Isao and everyone in the Silent Winds temple. I was putting Okame and Tatsumi in danger; there was no doubt that the blood mage would try to take the scroll again. But with every attempt, I might learn a little more about this new enemy. Who he was, what he wanted, and most important, where he might be. Vengeance was something Master Isao had always cautioned against, especially since yokai could lose themselves to revenge, obsessing over a grudge until it consumed them. But if I ever came face-to-face with the one who had destroyed my temple, he would come to fear the vengeance of an angry kitsune.

  “So, Yumeko-chan.” Okame’s voice jerked me out of my dark musings. The ronin had dropped alongside me, hands clasped behind his head as we walked together down the path. “Normally, I don’t like poking into matters that aren’t my business,” he began, “but I just heard the words demon, oni and blood mage in the same sentence, and any one of those is enough t
o keep me awake at night. Also—and stop me if I’ve missed anything—I just watched a bird disintegrate after I shot it, because someone who can raise dead crows has taken an interest in us, because of a scroll. Did I get all that right?”

  “More or less.” I frowned a bit. “Although, I think he would do more than just bring crows back to life. That would be a very strange skill to have, unless he really loves crows.”

  “Right. So, I think I deserve some sort of explanation, and I know better than to ask He of the Scary Glowing Sword.” He nodded at Tatsumi several paces ahead. “I’d probably get my head lopped off before I could open my mouth. So, I’d appreciate it if you could tell me what’s going on, Yumeko-chan. I’ve faced gaki, yurei and now undead crows. Am I going to have to fight demons anytime in the future?”

  “It’s...possible,” I said, and briefly explained what had happened the night the demons had attacked the temple, using the same story I’d told Tatsumi. That Master Isao had sensed a great evil coming, and had sent the scroll away before the demons arrived. I told him about the oni, and the amanjaku, and my promise to Master Isao to warn the other temple of the demons. And that I had to find Master Jiro at the Hayate shrine to discover the location of the Steel Feather temple. When I was finished, Okame gave me a shrewd look, as if something I said didn’t quite make sense.

  “So, a horde of demons attacks your temple, at the same time Kage-san with the demonslaying sword shows up,” he mused. “That sounds very convenient. I assume he wasn’t there to admire the leaves.”

  “I don’t think Tatsumi is one for leaf watching, Okame-san.”

  “Right.” Okame sighed. “So, what’s so special about this scroll, that the Kage demonslayer and an entire hoard of Jigoku abominations would show up to claim it?”

  “I... I don’t know,” I stammered. “Master Isao never told me why it was important.”

  Guilt prickled. I felt bad for lying, but it was probably better that the ronin know as little about the scroll as possible. The last thing I needed was someone else who wanted to summon the Dragon. Too many knew about it already.