The Fox's Quest (5 page)

Don’t you dare stab me, Jien!
a young, feminine voice said. It came from the fox, whose red aura felt most familiar. Even to someone who wasn’t peculiarly sensitive to auras, this one stood out.

“Nice try, ghost, but I distinctly remember seeing Sanae’s corpse.” Even as Jien spoke, doubt bloomed in his mind. Ghosts—spirits who became human-tainted—didn’t copy auras that perfectly.

The spirit sounded offended
as it replied
, I’m not a ghost! You’re a monk; you should know better.

Jien thought it through. Every monk knew ghosts happened when a person died in violent or tragic circumstances and a nearby spirit was contaminated by the dying person.

Common ghost behaviors included haunting the place of death by taking the deceased’s appearance, seeking vengeance, or attempting to fulfill the deceased’s last wish. It could be as harmless as a spirit sitting by its human’s grave until the human’s lover came by, so it might say goodbye. And it could be as horrifying as a spirit that ripped babies apart because its human had died birthing an unwanted child. Ghosts rarely displayed emotions other than anger, fear or sadness, likely because those were the emotions a dying person would feel strongest.

A ghost would have adopted Sanae’s human appearance rather than this fox-like shape. A ghost wouldn’t sound so lively and wouldn’t act so independently as to show up somewhere its human had never been before. There was that impossibly perfect aura, too. Which meant…

“Not a ghost,” Aito said, as if he feared Jien too dim to reach the conclusion alone. “Very unusual.” He studied Sanae intently, probably with several sets of eyes at once.

“Ghosts don’t work that way,” Jien admitted. “So you’re, what? Sanae’s fox half?”

The spirit who might or might not be Sanae sighed.
Oh, I suppose I need to explain again. And put that spear down already!

Chapter Seven

Mamoru

“
—
and that’s why I should go with Usagi,” Mamoru’s resident demon finished.

Yoshio made a thoughtful noise. “I agree.”

“You
agree
?”

Mamoru couldn’t tell which of them, the human or the demon, was more surprised. When they shared the same emotion, as they did now, it was almost like they were the same person.

Yoshio’s eyebrows rose. “What is it? Your reasoning is sound. Ensuring proper backup is always prudent and you do need to test your adaptation to human society. I have no immediate need for your assistance, but I have a colleague in Kyoto who may have a use for you.”

At Mamoru’s urging, the demon bent their shared body in a deep bow. “I shall endeavor to make you proud.”

“I wouldn’t allow you to go if I believed otherwise. Do remember you’re on your own if you get caught.” It was spoken pleasantly, but Mamoru had the impression there was the hint of a thread underneath.

The demon retreated from the room with all haste, lest Yoshio find a reason to retract his approval.

I can’t believe he agreed,
the demon told Mamoru, mind to mind.
He said I was a liability, before, and threatened to end me.
After a beat it amended,
Us.

You’ve been learning fast. He must have decided you can be useful.

I do well because you help me.

I don’t want to be “ended” either
, Mamoru said
. But…I do wonder why he agreed. He’s plotting, that’s clear. His plans are probably dangerous to our survival and maybe Usagi’s, too.

I can protect her.

Mamoru said nothing—it was useless to argue with the love-sick—but his demon could probably sense his doubts anyway since they were in close mental proximity. It was easier to converse when they were in contact like this. It was the mental equivalent of casually leaning into each other, as friends might do to whisper in each other’s ears. They weren’t friends, but they were allies insofar as they both wanted to survive.

Usagi was in her room, gathering personal items—and a few small weapons—in a pile in the middle of the floor.

“Yoshio said yes!” the demon said as he rushed in.

“You really asked?” Usagi laughed, the sound free of condescension for once. “What a meddlesome boy you are.” Gathering her items in her arms, she rose to her feet. “You’d best pack quickly!”

There was a spring in her step as she went down the hallway.

They ate their last meal in the clan house alone, the two—three—of them.

The demon ate as it always did, in a picky manner. It had the same tastes as Mamoru when it came to food, but no inclination to eat less favored items. It had yet to experience hunger of strength capable of driving home the fact that eating was a survival necessity, not merely a pleasure of life. The pickled vegetables were therefore largely ignored in favor of the fragrant fish and rice. Dessert, a handful of seasonal chestnuts, seemed to vanish in thin air.

The food gone, they lingered over tea and went over their cover story.

“I am the lady Usagi, distant relative of Advisor Yoshida,” Usagi said. “The story is that he’s taken pity on his poor relatives’ daughter—me—and agreed to find her work in the capital in hope she might attract good prospects. I expect I’ll provide entertainment for important persons; I’ve had more than enough music lessons.”

“Who am I? Your servant?”

“Oh no, that wouldn’t be proper. You’re a minor family relation sent along as my escort and protector. We’re related through our mothers, who—”

A pair of older
shinobi
approached, one bending to murmur in Usagi’s ear and the other dropping a heavy hand on Mamoru’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said curtly. “Make us proud.”

“I’ll try,” the demon said uncertainly.

Usagi watched the adults walk away. “They’re saying good luck to you and goodbye to me. I might not see any of them again.”

“I’ll be with you,” the demon said earnestly. “Always.”

In the corner of his mind where his self now had residence, Mamoru sighed. Why did he have to be possessed by a love-struck demon?

More importantly, why was their clan still involved with Advisor Yoshida? He was the man who’d hired them to attack the Fox clan, a venture that had ended in complete disaster. Maybe he’d find answers in Kyoto.

They left early in the day, for the clan house was isolated in the mountains and they would have to travel far before they could spend nights indoors again. They rode horses suitable for their pretend station of poor but proud nobility and were escorted by four fellow
shinobi
pretending to be hired mercenaries. The four were like ruffians, with clothes gaping open to reveal scarred chests, swords carried over the shoulder in a less-than-aristocratic manner, and loud personalities.

Mamoru didn’t know these men’s names and wouldn’t have asked anyway, to preserve their cover. It was possible their usual assignment was to be a roaming group of mercenaries who took jobs in places where information of a sensitive nature might be gathered.

Usagi surveyed their escort. “Well done. We’ll look quite desperate to have hired such bodyguards. Any bandits we may meet will be wary of engaging men who look as cruel as themselves.”

As soon as they hit the road, the questions began.

Hey, hey, what’s that bird’s name?

The demon kept their shared body’s eyes upon the bird so Mamoru might have a good look. Its orange face and neck gave away its species.
That’s a robin,
Mamoru said.

Look, this tree is white instead of brown. Is it sick?

This species has natural white bark. Haven’t you seen trees before?

I couldn’t see colors before, not like you do. I like them.

At their first meal stop, they were given nothing but plain rice to eat. This was not a shock to Mamoru, but the demon felt differently.

What do you mean we didn’t pack any dessert?!

Chapter Eight

Akakiba

A
kakiba didn’t usually find it trying to spend time on the road. But neither did he usually have to carry a distasteful, energy-stealing sword along.

The thing raised his hackles like nothing else. He watched it constantly, as though it might come to life and leap on him. He kept it wrapped up and hidden in a pack when they were on the move, but left it away from them and their horses at night.

“How are you feeling?” he asked when they set up camp in the evening.

“Hm?” Yuki blinked at him. “Oh, I’m saddle sore, but otherwise fine.” He rubbed his behind as if to demonstrate exactly how saddle sore he was. “You set a hard pace. Shouldn’t we slow down?”

“You saw what proximity did to those trees. I worry about our health and the horses’.”

Yuki grimaced. “You have a point, but so does my behind.”

They hadn’t seen the Sanae impersonator lately, although they’d once or twice caught glimpses of red ahead. It was in the spirit’s interest to keep its distance from the sword, but Akakiba missed its random visits. It, at the very least, listened when he spoke instead of staring at nothing while having a private conversation with somebody else.

A further week of travel greatly shortened the distance between themselves and Nara, the city where they would find the temple to which Jien and Aito belonged. If neither of them were present at the time, Akakiba planned to speak with the highest ranked monk available. He would have been embarrassed to admit aloud he didn’t know who the temple’s abbot was or whether the man was likely to agree to meet with visitors.

They were glad to sight the city. The horses found new energy and trotted the rest of the way, hoping for the proper care, food, and rest to be found in a stable.

Akakiba felt much the same, if one substituted “stable” for “inn.” Luxuriating in a hot bath would be most welcome.

Regretfully, the matter of the sword must come first. They had, the previous night, washed their clothes in a stream and thereafter dried them over the fire, so they didn’t look or smell quite as ragged as they felt when they presented themselves at the Great Eastern Temple’s gate.

“Jien and Aito, you say? I think they’re still in,” one of the guards said. “Do you need help locating them? We can—”

The second guard, staring at his bonded dragon bumping nose with a much larger dragon, spoke over his colleague. “Is that a great dragon?” The small dragon, though fully grown, was hardly bigger than a man’s arm; Yuki’s dragon was over twice as long and much bulkier. This kind of baffled reaction had been getting annoyingly frequent in the last few months.

“What else could I be?” Drac inquired.

The guard, resorting to the default response to an awkward situation, bowed deep. “Excuse my rudeness!”

Jien saved them from further delay by suddenly appearing, waving wildly. “Hey, Aki! Yuki! We’ve been expecting you. This way!”

The moment they were beyond the guards’ hearing, Yuki asked Jien the obvious question. “Did Sanae tell you we were coming?”

“Yes. She about frightened me to death, appearing out of nowhere! I took her for a ghost at first and Aito thought I was an idiot.”

That last sentence was as unexpected as a thunderclap from a clear sky. Aito didn’t think the lookalike was a ghost? Jien might have been fooled, but a man like Aito, who possessed familiars, couldn’t possibly be tricked by a spirit.

But if it wasn’t a ghost, then… then…

He was saved from thinking about it by Jien’s continuing babbling.

“She had time to explain about—” Jien flapped a hand about in search of words “—everything, about death and not death. Very interesting. She said you’d found a special sword you wanted to bring here. It didn’t take long for us to realize it’s the same sword we’ve been looking for!”

Akakiba halted mid-stride. “You’ve been looking for this sword? You know what it is, then?”

“Aito will tell you. Stables first.”

Jien led the way to the stables, where dozens of horses were kept, whether war-trained beasts or swift-footed ones ready to bear off messengers. A few empty stalls near the entrance looked little used, possibly meant to accommodate visitors like them. They surrendered their mounts to be unsaddled, rubbed down, and fed.

The next stop was the dormitories, a large building spacious enough to house a hundred monks. Yuki’s dragon made a beeline for a nearby pond while the rest of them went inside. Ascending to the second floor, where the spacing of the doors indicated the rooms were bigger than those on the first floor, they found Aito beckoning to them from an open doorway.

A steaming pot of tea and a plate of rice balls wrapped in seaweed waited for them inside.

“I apologize for the plain snack,” Aito said. “There wasn’t time to obtain better. Tea?”

They took the proffered cups but hardly took two sips before polite chitchat made way to the matter at hand. The strange sword was unwrapped and presented for inspection.

Aito recoiled when the blade was uncovered and, with a visible effort, shifted forward again to flick the blanket back over it. “So much energy,” he said. “Where did it get it?”

“The forest around it was dead for miles around,” Yuki said. “Nothing lived there.”

“We were told as much but I had doubts. I didn’t believe it possible the sword could draw energy from something it wasn’t actively in contact with. Seeing its huge reserves, I’ve no choice but to believe.” Aito produced a map from a corner of the room where several scrolls were piled near a writing table. He unrolled it carefully. “Show me where you found it.”

Yuki studied the map before putting his finger down. “About here.”

“That’s the middle of nowhere,” Jien said. “Aito, is there something special about that place?”

Aito’s brows drew down. “I don’t know.”

Unable to contribute, Akakiba drank tea and daydreamed about a hot bath. It was a safe topic to dwell upon, safer than trying to untangle his feelings about the spirit who might or might not be his sister.

“I know what it is!” a creaky voice proclaimed as the door was thrown open. “It’s an energy sink!” The old monk looked nowhere as frail as his voice sounded, his body wiry and his step springy as he came inside.

“Teacher,” Aito said sharply, “it’s not polite to spy on people with your familiar.”

“Feh. It’s the only way I can learn what’s happening around here. Everybody thinks I’m too senile to help. But I’m not, see? I know what’s in that place!” The old man turned to Akakiba. “It was in a valley; isn’t that what you said?”

“Ah, yes.”

The old man nodded vigorously. “I studied energy sinks when I was young and I visited that place because of it. You said it was dead and lifeless; when I was there, it was a lush forest the likes of which you’d never seen. The greens were so bright it hurt the eye, the animals were strong and healthy beyond reason and merely being there made you feel intoxicated with pure life.” He paused to clear his throat noisily. “A cup of tea, perhaps?”

“Of course.” Aito poured a cup for the old man. “This is my teacher, Toshishiro. You may have gathered he has a familiar spirit of his own and uses it unwisely.”

“Terrible,” Toshishiro said at the now empty cup. “You could never brew tea properly, boy. Now, where was I? Yes, energy sinks. They occur here and there, places where spiritual energy gathers over the centuries until it’s like a lake drowning the local vegetation and animal life. Planting a sword like this in there…” He shook his head, either impressed or appalled.

“So the sword soaked in the spare energy,” Aito speculated. “But the life there had adapted to the abundance of spiritual energy, and without it, couldn’t survive.”

“Now you understand. Even if the surrounding forest died, spiritual energy would keep gravitating there and would keep being absorbed by the sword. I shudder to think how much energy it has already absorbed over the years its been missing. I’m glad it’s back in our hands. It must be contained.”

“We have a problem,” Jien said. Heedless of the danger, he’d taken the sword out of the blanket to squint at the glyphs. “The workmanship is amazing, but look at the blade.”

The monks crowded to stare at the naked steel.

“Oh dear,” Toshishiro said.

“What is it?” Akakiba prompted when the silence stretched. He didn’t feel inclined to get close enough to the bare blade to see what they’d noticed. He’d be happiest if he never, ever saw this evil thing again.

“Oh, I didn’t explain that part, did I?” Jien grimaced. “The sword we’re looking for is hundreds of years old. This is an amazing forgery, but it’s far too new to be mistaken for the original.”

Akakiba’s heart sank. “You’re saying there’s more of these horrors out there.”

“Well, yes.”