Leodora met his eye and smiled.
Diverus asked, “And you both knew this?”
“We both—” He sprinkled the stones back into his pot. “—both concurred.” He looked at them critically. “This is your first game, then,” he said as he stepped away from the board.
“We’ve just arrived.”
“Then you’ve made good use of your time. And if you stay for another, you will discern how one arrives at such a crossroads.” He gestured behind himself where two other audience members were seating themselves and removing the stones, which they returned to their respective bowls.
“What is your interest here then, young travelers? You don’t know go, so is it the park, the topiaries?” He scrutinized Diverus closely. “You need more stain for your skin, perhaps?” Diverus moved back behind Leodora.
“Stories,” she said.
The fox tilted his head and considered her again. “How so?”
“I collect stories,” she said. “It’s my…calling.”
“That is a grand calling. But tell me, how do you keep them? Are they in a satchel? Do you have them tied up somewhere? Because the ones I know are disinclined to sit still.”
She laughed at that. Behind the fox, the new players eyed her as if warning her not to laugh while they were engaged in play. “It’s quite true, they don’t sit still and they like to change shape, one place to another.”
“Exactly so,” the kitsune agreed, and showed his prominent teeth in a smile. The player behind him made a shushing sound. “Ah,” the fox said, “we must be polite and move away if we’re to talk…or would you attend a game from the beginning? It is greatly rewarding, as I said.”
She glanced at Diverus to find him leaning around her in order to witness the opening moves. “All right,” she told the fox, “one game and then stories.”
“Excellent!” the fox replied. Then he also turned to watch.
. . . . .
Unlike the previous game, the one they observed from the beginning ended with a definitive final move followed by the counting of open squares—or intersections, as the fox explained it—and captured stones. “Shells has won again,” he proclaimed. “Next time, I’m going to insist on being shells.”
Some of those nearest him laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “You can’t have shells, not with your white fur!”
He told Leodora, “They think I’d cheat. Imagine.”
“Yes, ridiculous,” she said, but she knew enough about kitsunes to side with the group.
As they were laughing and discussing the game with the players, the fox waved his arms about and said, “My friends, my friends, these two are itinerant story collectors and would like to add to their collection from our repository. Does anyone have a story they would particularly like to tell?”
The entire group began to babble at once. She heard “ghost” and “tanuki” and “When Oiwa became a lantern!” before the fox waved them to silence once more. “Please, please, we can all tell our tales but not at the same time, if they’re to make any sense of it.”
“Well,” began the one with the sharp beard, “tell her about the emperor who forgot about war. That has one of your kind in it!”
The fox waited to see if anyone objected to this choice. No one did. He asked, “Do you already have that story?” Leodora shook her head. “In that case, I shall tell it, and if there’s time we’ll pick another—or, better, you can tell us one of yours.” Everyone nodded enthusiastically and settled down to listen. The fox strode around as he declaimed and acted the various parts.
THE EMPEROR’S TALE
Way over there our span touches land. You can see the hills and the tower that stands high upon the tallest hill. We call that land Kochokana, and legend has it that’s because it looks so like the fluttering wings of a butterfly. The truth, however, is that we named it after a legendary empire. We don’t know where this original kingdom is now—some say it’s sunk beneath the sea; others claim it lies at the farthest end of the eternal bridge. Whatever the truth, at one time in our history the original land called Kochokana was ruled over by a warlord. As this title suggests, he was a man who came to power by violent acts, and who maintained his power in like manner.
He had been trained in the strategy of war from earliest childhood. This art he had taken to, proving to be the greatest strategist ever seen in Kochokana. With his childhood full of political and martial matters, he had never spent much time with women; and because of his position—because he was being groomed to be, one day, an emperor—only two women in the empire were considered worthy candidates for his affections. It is not overstating things to say he disliked them both intensely. They were spoiled and shrill creatures, and he would have nothing to do with them. Had his parents been alive, surely they would have arranged a marriage with one of these harpies regardless of her shortcomings, but as he was in charge of his life—ascending to the position of emperor at fifteen upon his father’s death—he simply refused to choose between them, no matter how much members of his court wished to see him produce an heir. He determined not to marry a woman he did not love. And so his life might have been spent—in endless battles—but for an accidental visit he made to the royal gardens.
Now, it’s often said by the most scurrilous of folk that we foxes are only out to trick humans. Not so! I tell you. We kitsunes are the victims of jealousy and bad publicity. It’s not our fault that we are handsome creatures, and that humans who fall in love with us fall very hard. It’s not as if we do anything to cause it.
So was the case here. There was a kitsune who worked as a royal gardener. She lived alone in the woods beyond the fortress, but she liked the company of people, and so every morning she assumed human form and came to work in the gardens. In this way she was part of the populace but outside and away from prying eyes, which suited her very well.
And then one morning while she knelt at her task, she sensed someone observing her, and turned to discover the emperor standing there. Recognizing him, she could not move, didn’t even dare to breathe. Dirt and sweat covered her, but the emperor saw only a beautiful maiden. Even beneath the dirt, her fox-magic shone.
The emperor knelt beside her in the black dirt. So close, he became transfixed by the beads of perspiration upon her lip, and by the scent of her body. “I’ve watched you,” he told her, “as you wiped your brow, as you dug a hole for this flower and placed it, filled it in. You were so intent upon your work that you didn’t even hear me.” Then he leaned forward and began to dig the next hole for the next plant, beside her. She sat stupefied. Here was her emperor ruining his silk robes as he clawed in the dirt with her. He held up his hands, admiring the moist dirt attached to them, and began to laugh.
“I did not know,” she said, “that our great lord enjoyed gardening.”
He sat back on his haunches and replied, “Neither did I. But that was because I didn’t realize what a radiant blossom I would find here.”
She blushed and lowered her face, but he put a finger to her chin and lifted her head until her eyes met his again. “Never bow to me,” he said.
“But, my emperor—”
“No, no. Not emperor. Husband, rather, if you would allow it.”
She stared at this handsome man, saw in his eyes the love he had for her, and fell in love with him in return there and then. She replied, lowering her head, “I would.”
Because he was the emperor and she was his choice, they were married, and his advisers, as they wished to keep their heads, kept their opinions to themselves. But soon enough it became obvious to them that this was no ordinary affection. The daily reports delivered to the emperor went unread. When someone tried to read one of them aloud, the emperor, lying on a divan beside his bride, waved him to silence and ordered that those he’d put in charge should solve these matters, not bother him with them. The daily reports ceased, and soon only the chambermaids saw the emperor and his bride. They reported back to the advisers that he and his b
ride saw only each other, utterly moonstruck in their affection.
Now, among his advisers lurked two spies from the neighboring province of Maitake. They had infiltrated the court long before in order to look for opportunities for invasion. Delighted by the news that the emperor was completely lost in the fox-woman’s charms, they’d no idea that she was a kitsune just as she had no idea that her love could doom a kingdom or rob her lover of his martial skills. The beauty of the situation was that, should anyone suspect them of plotting, they could blame the woman, even accuse her of being the real spy. The attack would appear to coincide with his bewitchment, and the minds of the men would forge the links to her.
When the weather turned warm, and the emperor and his court moved to his summer tower, far from the border with Maitake, the two spies sent word to their king that he must strike fast and furious. The emperor knew nothing of the attack when it came. His generals alone saved the empire from being overrun, and a border siege began.
In the summer tower the siege was but an abstraction. The emperor’s every thought was of his wondrous bride. When the generals petitioned for his advice in the siege he told them, “Do what you feel is necessary,” and then dismissed them. The greatest strategist their people had ever known had deferred to his generals and his advisers. The agents of Maitake gleefully reported that the empire must fall, and recommended more assaults on the borders.
The emperor’s advisers held an emergency meeting. “Can we trust the generals?” one adviser asked.
“Their allegiance certainly. Their skill against this formidable foe is…untested, though. They’ve never had to concern themselves with strategy before. We cannot be certain of the outcome.”
“We need him!” someone cried.
“He won’t listen. We’ve implored, importuned. It means nothing. He moons over his lowly gardener and waves us away. What fools devised this enchantment? Did someone here provide some potion in the hopes of producing an heir? Well, he may well produce one, but shortly there will be nothing to inherit.”
No one admitted anything but they all eyed one another distrustfully.
“There’s no way to move him,” said one. “The empire is surely doomed.”
Then a young member of the entourage said, “Wait, there is a way I’ve just thought of.”
“What?” cried the others—the two spies especially.
“If the empress were kidnapped by Maitake, then he would pay attention.”
“Brilliant!” they all cheered, until someone said, “But how do we get someone from Maitake to do this?”
“Ha!” cried the young man. “We don’t. We convince the empress to pretend to be kidnapped—for the good of our land.”
“Brilliant!” they all cried again.
The difficulty was in approaching her, since she was rarely out of his company. Finally the advisers approached her personal bather and explained to the woman what she must say to her mistress. The girl complied, and finally the fox-woman understood the danger she had brought to these people. Yet she could not unmake his devotion any more than she could stop her own heart from adoring him.
She stole from the bath to meet with the advisers, and agreed immediately to go along with their deception.
The two spies, at some risk, hastily returned to Maitake and reported the plot. Seated before their lord and his advisers, they said, “Look at this opportunity! We can put our own men in place and kidnap her for real! Isn’t that wonderful?”
The warlord of Maitake leaned forward and said: “Are you both idiots?” The two looked at each other. They didn’t think so, but this was hardly the response they’d expected. “If we kidnap her,” the warlord explained, “then her husband will bring all of his attention to bear upon our invasion and he’ll destroy us, just as he will if he thinks she’s been kidnapped. You fools must do everything in your power to disrupt this plot. She must not be taken by anyone!”
“But she’s in on it,” they complained. “She’s going to help.”
“Then,” growled the warlord, “you have your work cut out for you. We launch our supreme attack in two nights, and he had better not be paying attention if you want to have a home to return to.”
The two spies crept back into Kochokana and debated about what they should do. They knew they couldn’t stop the plot from unfolding. The empress would steal away in the middle of the night to the gardener’s shed in the royal gardens where the emperor had found her, and his advisers and generals would swear she’d been kidnapped. If they said anything else, their true allegiance would be revealed. “I suppose it could be worse,” said one. “How so?” said the other. “Well, the advisers could just have asked her to ask the emperor to destroy Maitake as a favor to her.” His partner pulled at his lip. “Let’s not mention that to anyone, all right?” he said. “But I do have an idea how we might undermine this without implicating ourselves.”
The “kidnapping” of the empress went off without a hitch. She withdrew to the hut in the gardens of the main fortress. Her disappearance was discovered by one of her women, and the alarm sounded. The generals importuned the emperor to gather his wits and help them destroy the enemy who had obviously taken her. But before they had even laid out their maps and battle plans, the emperor received a note from his queen, which told him to come to her at once in the gardener’s hut, where she was safely awaiting him. “Oh, my heart’s delight!” he cried, then raced from the tower and rode across his land to the royal gardens. Sure enough, he found his wife in her bath and was so overcome immediately with lust for her that they sent away the servants and made love there and then in the wooden tub. The battle plans remained untouched.
“How did he figure this out?” one adviser asked the group.
“He’s too clever for us,” replied a spy.
“No, she sent him a note. Didn’t you see?”
“Why would she do that?”
“Maybe she’s an agent of Maitake,” one of the spies suggested.
“Is that possible?”
“What other explanation is there?” the other spy asked. “The spell must have been her own.”
“What can we do? The enemy’s at the very gates! We need him now.”
“Maybe,” someone said, “we could have the spell removed.”
“We don’t know if there’s a spell.”
“There must be a spell.”
“Maybe we could kidnap her again. For real this time.”
“We can ask her to visit us. Can’t we? And then say she was kidnapped on the way here.”
“Will he believe a second kidnap plot?”
“Do we have a choice?”
They couldn’t think of an alternative, these clever men, and so they sent a message to the empress. To their dismay, she answered that she would not attend. Instead, she commanded all of them to attend her at the gardener’s cottage. At least, they thought, they might confront her in the emperor’s presence. However, when they arrived, they found her alone.
“Where is the emperor?” they asked.
“I sent him off to war.”
“You what?”
“As we were making love, he asked me what I wanted most in the world, and I told him that I wished to see him victorious over his enemies.” She unfolded a slip of paper and placed it in front of them. “He has more enemies than he knows. He tells me everything, you see. He keeps no secrets. He’s too good a man for secrets. I wish to do likewise, yet I cannot help but keep secrets when such plans as yours are required. Such plans depend upon deception.” She raised a hand to stop some of them from protesting. “Please, don’t defend the need for subterfuge. The problem with your method is that it’s quite easy to hide one deception inside another. This note, for instance. It’s a note from me, telling him that I’ve hidden myself in this cottage in order to have an assignation with him away from all the business of the court, and that the kidnapping was merely a ruse.
“I wrote no such message. I was playing your game, gentlemen.
By your rules. Therefore, one or more of you must be a traitor.”
“Arrogant child! How dare you accuse us!” yelled one of the true traitors.
She stared at him, and the fox emerged from that black stare. The fox snapped its jaws at the spy’s throat. He clutched his neck with both hands and fell back a step. His neck was unmarked, but he knew that what he had seen would happen if he said one thing more; pale, trembling, he took his seat again while his partner looked on, fearfully mystified.
The fox-woman made some slight gesture and suddenly four armed warriors stepped into the cottage. All of the advisers reacted with fear then; but she watched their expressions carefully for any that were more or less than they should have been. She already had the first traitor. And now the second one gave himself away as his hand slid into the folds of his robe, where his hidden dagger lay. But the soldiers merely blocked the exits. They made no move to attack.
“All of you are under house arrest,” she said, “although I do now know the identity of at least two traitors in your midst.” She made a point of looking at none of them, although they looked at one another.
“I love your emperor dearly, yet nothing he says to me can I trust, because it’s threaded with magic, which is my fault. I told you that I would have no secrets from him, and I don’t. He knows what you are about to know.” Before their eyes she transformed then. Her sweet face became that which the traitor had seen. Her hands and bare feet changed shape and grew soft with fur. The advisers gaped; even one of the soldiers drew back. She continued to speak as if none of this had happened. “Because of my negligence, not one word could I be sure came from his true heart. The magic of the fox-people is such that we ensorcel you with our glamour whether we wish to or not. Now he knows my nature and when he comes back from this war, I will know his true feelings. In any case this siege is about to end, and there’s no need for further trickery. He will blast the enemy.”
“What if, when he returns, he doesn’t love you?” asked one of the advisers.
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