Spirit's Chosen (17 page)

“You disapprove of my journey?” I could not help speaking to him a little sharply. In every village we had visited, Kaya and I always heard negative remarks about two girls traveling alone, everything from dour predictions of the disasters awaiting us to expectant gloating:
And when it
does
happen, it will serve you right!
I was tired of it.

“I was talking about the pass, not your pilgrimage,” he said stiffly. “Your journey is not what brought the Ookami streaming down upon us, overwhelming us, giving us no choice but to serve them or die. The rice we used to trade now goes to fill their storehouses. So do as much of our other crops as they care to take. We live hungry now.”

He made a sweeping gesture over the food spread out before us. “It pleases our chieftain to pretend as though we are still our own masters and can entertain guests lavishly. My fellow nobles will not say one word to dissuade him. Why should they? We don’t get to eat this well every day. Our common-born kin, on the other hand …” He let his words drift off.

I recalled the hard looks directed at Kaya and me, and the hunger-pinched faces. “I am sorry for them,” I said. “For them and for you. My path here led me through many clans conquered by the Ookami, but the Inoshishi were the first. You have suffered their greed longer than any other people.”

“No, Lady Iyoko,” he said solemnly. “We were the second.” He got to his feet, made a gesture of respect to me, and left the chieftain’s house.

I wanted to go after him and ask what he meant by that. Hadn’t he asserted that the Inoshishi were the last clan we would meet until we found the Ookami? It made no sense. Unfortunately, when I tried to rise, the boar chieftain took notice and made such a fuss that I had to resume my place and endure the feast until it was over.

I passed an uncomfortable night and woke up groggy but eager to be gone. Kaya gave me a sour look when I roused her, but once she wiped the sleep from her eyes, she shared my impatience to begin the last part of our journey.

At my suggestion, we agreed to break our fast later that morning, to avoid delay. We crept out of the chieftain’s house stealthily, while his wives and children slept soundly in spite of his thunderous snores.

“He even
sounds
like a wild boar,” Kaya whispered. I shushed her.

We stepped into a cold mountain morning, damp and gray, but already beginning to blush with the first light of dawn. A thin mist still lingered, making the Inoshishi village look like an abode of ghosts.

“I hope the gates aren’t barred,” I murmured to Kaya, then remembered: the Ookami did not allow their subject clans to have any. The wolves preferred vulnerable prey. Kaya and I were swiftly through the open entryway, the sun at our backs, forceful strides carrying us farther and farther from the Inoshishi.

“Look, Himiko, a fox shrine!” Kaya pointed at a flat-topped boulder by the roadside. A prettily carved wooden image of a seated fox perched on the stone, with a tiny pinch of rice sprinkled between its forepaws. Even when every grain was precious, people never failed to make an offering to the spirit that protected the crops. The shrine was sheltered in a stand of pine trees. We had climbed to the highest limit of the Inoshishi clan’s terraced fields and were about to venture farther up the slope, to where the path narrowed into a mountain trail. The trees in the distance grew thick and plentiful, but no timber remained so close to the cultivated lands except the fox spirit’s grove. I thought I heard a small, contented voice whisper
I like the scent of pine needles. You people were very wise to spare my trees
.

“We should leave something too,” I said. “The fox is a very clever spirit, and we’re going to need all the cleverness we can get.”

“What about some more rice?” Kaya nodded at my sack. We had divided the responsibility for carrying our supplies, but the way things happened, I was the one carrying all of our rice. “It wouldn’t have to be a lot.”

“Yes, but it’s too easy. I want the spirit to know that we gave some
thought
to our gift.”

“All right,” Kaya said gravely. “I’ll wait here; you catch a mouse.”

I twisted my mouth at her, then showed her my back as I cast about for an appropriate offering. There were poor gleanings, nothing to see but the common grasses waving along the border of the new plantings. I was just about to start searching the path at my feet for an especially pretty stone when something drew my eyes to the shadows beneath the shrine’s guardian trees. A flash of bright green caught my attention, a sprig of blossoms the color of a fox’s eyes. I gave a happy cry and raced to pick them, throwing myself onto my knees among the tangle of ancient roots.

“Lady Iyoko, forgive me!” A high, frightened voice startled me. I glimpsed bare feet peeking out from behind the same great tree trunk where I knelt, my fingers clutching the fox-eye flowers.

“Who’s there?” I called. “Show yourself.” I heard a muffled creak at my back and a low hiss, the familiar sound of Kaya stringing her bow and drawing an arrow from her quiver. “We won’t hurt you,” I added, praying that my friend would take the hint and let our unexpected visitor come out of hiding.

A wide, pale face came into view. The young woman confronting us looked ready to burst into tears. “I’m sorry,
Lady Iyoko, I truly am. I should have spoken as soon as I saw you and Lady Karasu on the trail, but—but I must have drowsed off, waiting for you to come this way.”

She stepped into full view. There was no mistaking her condition: the front of her dress bulged with a child waiting to be born.

Soon, by the look of things
, I thought. “You were
waiting
here for us?” I asked, incredulous. “It was hardly light when we left your village. You mean you were here for part of the night?”

“The whole night,” she said, averting her eyes.

“With
that
belly?” Kaya demanded, unbending her bow. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I thought I was safe enough,” she replied with a rueful smile. “The fox spirit has always been a good guardian to my family … almost always. You know how it is with foxes.” Kaya grunted agreement. “Besides, I had to come here to meet you. I couldn’t ask this favor if we were still down in the village.”

“What favor?” I asked.

She went back behind the tree, returning with a bulging sack bigger than her head. When she handed me the bag, I encountered the familiar feeling of many small grains shifting under my fingers. “Rice?” She nodded. “Where did you get this?”

She looked alarmed. “Oh! I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean. Every family in our clan is given a ration of rice from our stores throughout the winter. My husband and I have been putting aside a part of our share every day.”

“This isn’t right,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re going to have a baby. You should be eating as much as you can get, to build up your strength. If you don’t take care of yourself—”

“But I am!” she interrupted. “Otherwise I wouldn’t ask you to take this offering to the fox shrine on the other side of the mountain. I’d go myself.”

“This is … a very generous offering. Especially when your clan has so little to spare.”

“It’s
my
rice, and I can do what I want with it!” Our timid friend turned hard-faced and stubborn. “This
must
be taken to the other fox shrine. My grandmother told us that the spirits turn away from impure hearts. You’re a shaman; the spirits speak to you, which proves I can trust you to do this, but if you refuse—”

“—you’ll do it yourself?” I concluded for her. She nodded again, her mouth a tight line. She put on a brave front, but I could tell that she was afraid, for her unborn baby’s sake. I beckoned Kaya and handed her the bag of rice. “Tell us where to find the other fox shrine.”

Her face beamed with relief. “Oh, that will be easy! It lies about halfway down the other side of this mountain, in the middle of a meadow marked by—by many burnt trees.” She grabbed my hands and bowed deeply over them. “Thank you for doing this, my lady. The gods will bless you. They will protect you. They will keep the
oni
deeply asleep in his lair when you pass by.”

Kaya shifted the big rice sack to her hip and frowned. “What
oni
?” My usually bold friend looked agitated at the
mention of that terrible monster, the mountain ogre. I didn’t blame her for that.

An
oni
was twice the size of a full-grown man and had at least five times his strength. Their skins were deep blue or bloodred, they had horns on their heads, tusks jutting from their lower jaws, claws and talons sprouting from their hands and feet. It would take a team of hearty warriors to lift the
oni
’s favorite weapon, a spiked iron club. The brutes wore loincloths made from the hides of ferocious beasts and liked nothing better than to waylay travelers, crush their skulls, and devour them, flesh and bone.

Or so we’d been told.

“Yes, what
oni
?” I echoed. “Are we likely to cross paths with such a creature?”

The young woman hesitated, one hand resting protectively on her protruding belly. I could almost read the thoughts forming behind her worried expression:
If I say yes, they might decide to turn back, and then I’ll have to bring my rice offering to the other fox shrine myself. But if I say no, I’ll be lying; lying to a
shaman!
The gods will punish me for that
. Finally she said, “I don’t
think
so. No one has even spied him this early in the spring. He lives on the other side of the pass and he has never ventured near the shrine you’ll be seeking.”

“Ah, so once we reach it, we’ll be safe?”

“Ummm …” She licked her lips. “The
oni
’s den is farther down the slope than the fox shrine, so you will still be in his territory after you leave the offering. Oh, but you mustn’t worry! He made his dwelling well away from the
trail. I think he’s as eager to avoid people as we are to avoid him. Even if he is ranging farther than usual, he’s a clumsy thing. You can hear him crashing through the woods well before he reaches you, and that makes him easy to dodge or outrun.”

“You sound like you’ve actually seen him.”

“Oh yes, many times. So did everyone in our village.”

Kaya and I exchanged an astonished look. “How is that possible? I thought you said he lives on the
other
side of this mountain,” I said.

“I—I have to go,” she said, ignoring my question. “My husband will be awake soon. Thank you for doing me this great favor, Lady Iyoko. I won’t forget it.” She picked up the hem of her dress and ran down the terraced hillside, in spite of her pregnancy.

Kaya wanted to go after her and compel an answer, but I said, “Let her go. I think she’s already told everything useful, and we need to travel on.”

“Useful? Huh!” Kaya picked up the young woman’s rice bag. “All she did was warn us about an
oni
lurking somewhere on our trail, but she couldn’t even tell us for certain which side of the mountain he haunts. Now I’m not going to be able to relax on the way up
or
on the way down!”

“Well, better to know there is an
oni
living on this mountain than to trip over him,” I remarked. “And it’s always best to be on guard,
oni
or no
oni
.”

She snorted. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s got to defend us from the monster.” She indicated her bow and arrows.

“Don’t make any wagers about that,” I returned. “I could always drop a rock on him. I’m good at that.” We continued on our way in the excellent company of shared laughter.

As we had been told, the path above the Inoshishi fields soon became steeper and narrower, threading its way through rugged forest. The trees grew close together, a massive palisade built by the spirits themselves. Birds called to one another from the branches above our heads and the underbrush stirred with the comings and goings of small, furry creatures, their minds set on finding food while steering well clear of the two-legged beasts invading their territory.

The day was sunny enough to fight off the chill clinging to the upper reaches of the mountain. We walked briskly, only feeling the cold when we stopped to take a drink from a glimmering rivulet or to rest our feet. Midday brought us to a little clearing, where we decided to have something to eat. I was just unpacking my bag when we heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from the slope below.

Kaya had her bow strung and an arrow nocked before I could whisper, “Do you think it’s the oni?” Her jaw was set and perspiration dewed her brow, but she held her aim so steady that she might as well have been the image of a hunter carved from solid rock.

“Hello? Lady Iyoko? Lady Karasu, is that you?” A man’s deep, confident voice reached us. “Don’t be afraid, please. I’m a friend and I’ve come to help you!” Two breaths later, he emerged from between the trees, saw Kaya’s arrow pointing at his chest, and jerked back. “Er, I
said
I’m a friend.”

“People say a lot of things,” Kaya replied evenly, but she lowered her bow. “We usually know our friends by name. I can’t say that about you.”