by Julie Kagawa
One step at a time. I took one step, then another, until I had crossed the road and stood before the torii gate. Beyond the arch was sacred ground, the realm of the kami. I offered a respectful bow to the spirits whose territory I was entering, and started up the steps.
It was a fairly steep, long stairway, and I was careful to keep to one side of the steps, as the center of the path was reserved for the kami. The edge of the staircase was quite worn, rough with age and time, making it important to watch where you put your feet. As I climbed the last step, I spotted a komainu statue, the maned lion-dogs that protected the shrine from evil spirits, atop its plinth flanking the staircase, mouth open in a fearsome snarl. Another stone pedestal sat on the other side of the steps, but this one was empty, as if the second guardian had decided to abandon its post.
Briefly, I wondered what had happened to it; komainu guardians always came in pairs. But the thought was quickly forgotten as I passed beneath a second torii and saw the small but elegant shrine across the tiny courtyard. The haiden, or prayer hall, sitting on a raised platform atop a flight of four stone steps, was the vermillion red of the torii gate. A sacred rope was draped across the entrance, indicating the holiness of the building. Beyond the haiden was the honden, the main building where the kami were housed, and no one but the priest and resident shrine maidens were allowed to enter.
“Looks like no one’s here,” Okame mused. There were no people near or around the haiden; the courtyard was empty, as was the purification fountain near the entrance. But in a place like this, where the only sound was the wind in the pines and the trickle of water into the fountain, the presence of the kami could be felt everywhere; even the brash, irreverent ronin seemed loath to break the stillness. “Maybe we should check the outbuildings? The priests’ quarters should be around somewhere, right?”
Daisuke gazed across the courtyard toward the haiden, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Before we do anything else, we should first pay our respects to the kami,” he stated in a solemn voice. “We are guests here, and I have no desire to invite bad fortune into my house by offending them.”
“I guess you’re right,” Okame said. “Though I can usually offend by simply existing. It’s a talent, I suppose.”
In preparation to speak to the kami, we gathered around the purification fountain, a stone trough with ladles balanced around the edges. Daisuke dipped one of the long wooden ladles in the water and poured some over his left hand, then his right, before swiping a finger over his lips and carefully replacing the ladle. I followed his example, noting that Okame did the same, though his expression was slightly sour as he dumped the extremely cold water over his hands, rinsed his mouth and spit into the bushes. Even Tatsumi followed the ritual, carefully cleansing his hands and touching water to his lips in a very calm, practical manner.
Thus cleansed, we turned and made our way to the haiden at the top of the steps. It was an elegant structure, with a green-tiled roof that curved up at the corners and bright red pillars beneath. A wooden offering box sat before a lattice screen that covered the window into the building. Fascinated, I watched as Daisuke dropped a silver tora into the box, then shook the rope dangling to the side.
A chime rang out from a large bell overhead, and immediately, I felt an awakening all around us, as if dozens of eyes suddenly turned our way. The kami of the shrine were aware of our presence now. I hoped they would not take offense to a presumptuous half kitsune invading their territory.
Seeming unaware of the sudden attention, Daisuke bowed once, and then a second time. Bringing his hands before his face, he clapped twice, slow and deliberate, then closed his eyes in silent prayer. When he was finished, Okame repeated the ritual, tossing a copper kaeru into the offering box, ringing the bell and clapping twice before closing his eyes to pray.
Trying to be patient and wait for my turn, I noticed Tatsumi, still standing at the bottom of the steps. His arms were crossed, and he was gazing at the torii gate across the yard. He looked tense, his jaw set and eyes hard, as if he wasn’t comfortable here. I walked down to stand beside him.
“Are you all right, Tatsumi-san? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you going to make a wish to the kami? Maybe pray for our mission to go well?”
He shook his head. “The kami wouldn’t listen to someone like me.”
“Why?”
“Because calling on the gods requires purity of heart as well as body,” Tatsumi replied. His gaze shifted to his open palm, and a shadow went through his eyes. “Even if I cleansed myself a thousand times, my soul is tainted beyond forgiveness. The kami want nothing to do with me.”
“Oh.” I thought about that a moment; it sounded so sad, to be ignored by the gods. “Tell me, then,” I offered.
He blinked and looked at me, seeming confused. I met his gaze and smiled. “Your wish, Tatsumi. If you could pray for anything, right now, what would it be? I’ll ask the kami for you.”
“Yumeko...” His eyes softened. For a heartbeat, I could see past the cold and shadows and blank mirror gaze, and the vulnerability there made my stomach clench.
“Excuse me.”
We turned, and that brief expression of gentleness vanished from Tatsumi’s face like the snap of a door being shut. I looked into the courtyard and found we were no longer alone.
A young woman stood a few yards away, a broom held in both hands, watching us with a stern expression on her face. She couldn’t have been but a year or two older than me, wearing the traditional red hakama and spotless white haori of a miko—a shrine maiden. Her straight black hair, even longer than mine, was tied behind her with a simple red ribbon, and her dark eyes shone with disapproval as she stepped forward.
“I am sorry,” she announced, her gaze flicking to Daisuke and Okame, walking down the steps to join us. “But the shrine is closed for the evening. Business hours end once the sun goes down. If you wish to say a prayer or make a wish to the kami, please come back...tomorrow.”
Her voice trailed off for a moment as she stared at me. I felt a twisting in my stomach as our gazes met, and for a moment, I thought she could see me. Really see me, what I was. My heart pounded, and I held my breath, wondering if the shrine maiden would shout kitsune! and I would be exposed to them all.
“Please excuse us,” Daisuke said, coming forward. The miko tore her gaze from me to face the approaching noble, who smiled as he reached the bottom of the steps.
“We didn’t mean to intrude,” Daisuke continued, as I still waited, frozen, to see what the shrine maiden would do. “We’re looking for the head priest here. Would you be able to tell us where he is?”
“Who wishes to know?”
I took a quick breath. “I do,” I said, stepping away from Tatsumi. The miko gazed at me calmly, her dark eyes assessing, but she didn’t point and scream demon fox at me, so I hoped I had been mistaken. “I’ve come from the Silent Winds temple,” I went on, seeing no change in her expression. “I’ve journeyed far to find this place. Please, it’s important I speak with him. Can you tell me where he is?”
She held my gaze a moment longer, then turned away. “Come with me,” she ordered simply, and began walking across the courtyard. We all hurried to follow her, as she led us around the shrine to a row of much smaller, simpler buildings. At the steps to the veranda that circled the first structure, she turned, halting us in our tracks, and pointed a finger in my direction.
“You. Follow me. Only you—the rest of your party must wait here.” She glanced at the others, as if expecting a protest, and narrowed her eyes. “The head priest is very busy at the moment. I do not wish to disturb him with a large group of visitors stomping through the premises. I will take the girl to speak to Master Jiro—everyone else, please make yourselves comfortable until we return.”
“Oh.” I turned to look at my companions, wondering what they th
ought of this. Okame shrugged, and Daisuke gestured at the steps, indicating that I should follow her. I glanced at Tatsumi, and he gave a slight nod. I supposed he didn’t think a petite shrine maiden was going to be a threat, or maybe he didn’t care one way or another. “All right.”
I trailed her up the steps, down a wooden veranda and past several rooms where the murmur of voices could be heard through the shoji. At the end of the veranda, the miko slid open a door and gestured for me to go inside. I did as she asked, stepping into a small, mostly empty room with a tatami mat floor, a low table and a single flower in an alcove. The head priest was nowhere to be seen.
The door closed with a snap. I whirled to see the miko take a strip of white paper from her haori and press it to the doorframe, the kanji for barrier written on the surface in clear black ink.
An ofuda? I felt a pulse of spiritual energy ripple from the paper strip and spread over the walls. The hairs on my arms rose as a shimmering wall of force surrounded the room, similar to the ki barrier the monks created, but one of pure magic, drawn from the kami and the energy of the world.
The shrine maiden turned, her black eyes hard as they met mine. “I’ve put a barrier around this room,” she announced. “No spirits, demons or yokai can get in or out, and no one outside will hear us. Your friends, if they even are your friends, won’t be coming, kitsune.”
My ears flattened as I stepped back, feeling fox magic rise to the surface. So, she had seen me, after all. “I just came to speak to Master Jiro,” I said, in what I hoped was a calming voice. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“No?” The miko’s gaze narrowed. “Did you think you could just walk in here and I wouldn’t know a yokai when I saw one? Even a half yokai. I speak to the kami every day. I see their world as clearly as my own.” She gestured past the sealed door. “Those men outside—none of them know what you really are, do they, fox? You’re deceiving them all.” A hard smile crossed her lips. “You won’t find me so easily fooled.”
“I came here for help,” I insisted. “I’m from the Silent Winds temple. My master sent me to find the head priest of the Hayate shrine.”
“Why?”
“Because...” I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to fight the miko, but it was clear she didn’t trust a word I was saying. She saw only a kitsune, and the reputations of the mischievous foxes preceded me. If I wanted to talk to the priest, I had to get past the shrine maiden.
“Because...” I sighed again and reached into my furoshiki. “I have this.”
The shrine maiden’s eyes got huge as I pulled out the lacquered scroll case, holding it between us. The blood drained from her face, and she took a step backward, staring at the item in my hand as if it were a live snake. “Merciful Kami,” she whispered. “That is... You have a piece of the scroll.” She stood there a moment, then leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “Who else knows of this?” she snapped. “The men outside—are any of them aware that you have the Dragon’s prayer?”
I shook my head. “None of them know I possess the scroll,” I told her. “Or, this piece of it, anyway.” I hesitated a moment, wincing. “Although there is...one, who is searching for it, who was sent to my temple retrieve the scroll.”
“The samurai in black,” the miko guessed. “The warrior of the Shadow Clan. Who is he?”
“His name is Kage Tatsumi,” I told her. “He carries a sword named Kamigoroshi.”
She closed her eyes. “The Kage demonslayer,” she whispered. “I thought I felt something evil close by. I suppose that makes sense, that Hanshou would send him.” Her eyes opened, angry and fearful, glaring at me. “How could you bring that creature into this shrine?” she demanded. “Do you know how dangerous he is, what he could do to the spirits who call this place their home?”
“I needed him,” I told her. “He agreed to help—”
“Because he wants the scroll,” she interrupted. “That’s the only reason you’re still alive, kitsune, the only reason the demonslayer hasn’t killed you. If he finds out you have it...”
“My temple was attacked,” I said. “An oni came through, murdered everyone, and tried to take the scroll. I barely escaped.” I shivered, remembering the terror of the horde, the monstrous oni crashing into the hall, and the horror that came after. I had to swallow the lump in my throat before continuing. “Before he died, Master Isao sent me here. He said that the head priest would know where to find the Steel Feather temple.”
“Which has the second piece of the Dragon’s prayer,” the miko finished gravely, and sighed. “Yes, I can see the truth of your words.” She took a step back, rubbing her eyes as if they pained her. “Though I don’t know why the monks let a yokai run off with something so important. I suppose they were desperate.”
I ignored the contempt in her voice, slipping the case back into my furoshiki. “My name is Yumeko,” I told her. “Master Isao and the monks raised me. I spent my entire life in that temple. I didn’t know the story of the Dragon until recently, but I did promise to take care of the scroll. I have no intention of letting it fall to the demons, or into the hands of evil humans. I’ve come a long way, fought bandits and gaki and omukade, to talk to the head priest.” I pinned back my ears, feeling a tiny bit of desperation and anger rise to the surface. “If I really was pure yokai, I would have dropped the scroll in the river and let it wash out to the sea.”
“You’re right. I am sorry, kitsune.” The shrine maiden straightened, becoming more formal. “I apologize for my bluntness,” she offered. “I am known as Reika, and I’m the senior shrine maiden for the Hayate shrine. I am also the only one who knows about the Dragon scroll besides Master Jiro.”
“You know the legend, then. About the scroll and the Dragon’s wish.”
“Yes.” Reika nodded. “Master Jiro told me about the scroll, the Dragon’s prayer and what will happen if the Dragon is summoned. But there is one thing he would not reveal, and that is the location of the Steel Feather temple.” A faint, bitter smile twisted her lips. “I suppose it was for my protection.”
“I have to get to the Steel Feather temple,” I said. “I promised I would deliver the scroll to the monks there. Will you allow me to speak to Master Jiro?”
“I would,” the miko replied, “if I knew where he was.”
I blinked. “He’s not here?”
Reika shook her head. “Three days ago,” she explained, “a courier arrived with a message for Master Jiro, summoning him to the Imperial Palace. He left to attend the meeting, and put me in charge of the shrine until he returned. That was the last I saw of him.” Her lips thinned, and she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have let him go. He confessed that he had an ominous feeling about the meeting and warned me to be on my guard. I should have insisted he stay here. And now, he’s missing and I have no idea what happened.”
“Have you been to the palace to look for him?”
She gave me a bemused look. “I’ve been trying, but you cannot just show up at the imperial palace without an invitation,” she exclaimed. “The guards keep turning me away at the gates. They say that no one has seen or heard of Master Jiro.” The miko made a frustrated gesture. “But I know he’s there. I know he went to speak to a woman named Lady Satomi, and never came back.” She gave me a wary look. “And then, a kitsune arrives at the shrine with part of the Dragon scroll, wanting to know the way to the Steel Feather temple. How could I not think the two were related?”
I started to answer, but a shiver suddenly went through the air, causing a chill to race up my spine. Reika turned, eyes widening, as the edge of a blade slashed through the sliding screen door, cutting the ofuda in half. The door panels toppled to the floor with a clatter, revealing Tatsumi’s lean, dark silhouette in the frame, Kamigoroshi unsheathed and glowing in the fading light.
27
Summoned by Shadow
Something wasn’t right.
/> I’d watched Yumeko leave with the shrine maiden, feeling Hakaimono’s restless stirring in my mind. As soon as we’d passed beneath the torii gate at the stairs, the demon had recoiled. This was sacred ground, sanctified by priests and protected against evil. Demons were not welcome in this place. Even though Hakaimono’s presence had been masked within the sword, it was still uncomfortable for me to be here. To make matters worse, Hakaimono held a special, venomous hatred for priests, shrine maidens and spiritual figures of any kind. When the miko had first appeared, I’d had to suppress the instant desire to tear the head from her body.
Still, I sensed no evil from the shrine maiden herself, and when she told the rest of us to wait while she continued on with Yumeko, I was wary, but protesting would not have gotten us any closer to our objective. Especially when there were other ways of listening in on the conversation while not being physically present.
Wandering to the side of the building, I leaned against the railing and crossed my arms, affecting a pose of casual patience. While the ronin sat heavily on the steps and pulled out his sake jug and the noble walked quietly to the edge of a rock garden, I furtively held two fingers to my lips and whispered a few words under my breath.
Around me, everything grew very quiet. Sounds faded, becoming muffled, like the world was suddenly underwater. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head very slightly and angled my focus toward the building behind me.
Voices whispered past my ears, as I sent my consciousness into the rooms, searching for Yumeko’s voice. This was a special Shadow Clan technique, used by some of our shinobi to listen to a private conversation in a room, across a yard, or in a crowded restaurant without giving themselves away. Since my missions usually involved death and not information gathering, I rarely used it, as focusing so much of your attention elsewhere left your body vulnerable. But the shrine seemed secure enough; there were no demons here, except the one hidden in my blade. Unless the ronin got bored and decided to bother me, I would be safe to listen in on Yumeko and the shrine maiden.