The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Out of the jade-green artificial lake behind the Temple jutted a craggy ornamental boulder. It was a very tall, tapering boulder, a good ten feet high, in which my landscape architect took particular pride. He’d dredged it out of some lake in the middle of nowhere and had it hauled all the way to the capital without so much as an extra chip or crack. According to him, it resembled some famous mountain in the west, a beloved haunt of artists and poets – and nobles who fancied themselves both – before the demons overran it.

Maybe because my boulder resembled the mountain so closely, it had acquired its very own demonic wildlife. By the time we caught up to the serow rioter, she was teetering on the very tip of the boulder.

And by “we,” I meant I; Floridiana, who’d grabbed her sketchbook when she heard there was a serow to be seen; and Bobo, who of course had come along to back me up. Anthea had flat-out refused to leave the safety of the Temple proper.

Floridiana and Bobo stopped at the edge of the lake, but I flew across it and right into the face of the chunky, brown, vaguely goat-like creature. Oddly cowardly for the one rioter who’d gotten past our defenses, the serow flinched, cowered, and nearly lost her balance. Her split hooves scrabbled and scraped the rock, making unsightly scratches (my landscape architect was going to scream when I ordered him to find a replacement).

Before I needed to say a word about property damage, she squeaked, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ll leave! I promise! I just – I don’t know what came over me! I was on my way to work and – ”

It’s all right, spirit, I cooed. We mean you no harm. This is the Temple of the Kitchen God, after all. All who pass through our doors – (or over them) – are welcome here. (So long as they paid for a big-enough offering.)

“The Temple – ? This is the Temple?” The serow’s fuzzy chin came up, and she surveyed the gardens with her big, dark eyes, as if suddenly curious about her surroundings.

Aha. Got her.

Why yes, indeed, this is the Temple to the Kitchen God. Have you heard of us, by chance?

Her chin bobbed up and down. “Yes, yes, I have! We were talking about it at work just the other day. There’s a – a festival coming up, or something, isn’t there?”

Indeed there is. I am humbly grateful that word of it has spread.

“Yes, yes, it has! I was planning to attend, just for a bit, if I could get time off….” She trailed off as she recalled her literal position, as a rioter who’d invaded the sacred precincts.

I gave her a moment, to let it sink in that she was a trespasser on the grounds of not just any old noble, but a god. Any reasonable noble would have her beaten, perhaps even killed, and we both knew it.

When I opened my beak again, she flinched so hard that she did topple off the boulder. Bobo yelped, but the fall took long enough that I had time to fly higher, so that when the splash came, not a drop of water touched my feathers.

The serow surfaced, water streaming down her cheeks and the sides of her neck, paddling frantically to stay afloat.

“Fascinating,” Floridiana muttered to herself, scribbling in her sketchbook. “Shape like a cross between a goat and a deer, color like a brown bear, split hooves to grip the stone better, an amazing ability to climb….”

I glided down low enough to address the serow, but not low enough to get splashed. Poor dear! You’ll catch your death of a cold! Do come into the Temple! We’ll get you dried off in no time, get you a nice cup of tea, perhaps some snacks – have you had breakfast? No? Don’t you fret, we’ll fix that right away.

With me fluttering about her head and assaulting her with kindness, she swam to the edge of the lake and walked out onto solid ground. She nearly forgot and shook herself off all over me, but she stopped in time. She stood there, a bedraggled mess, head hanging almost to the grass.

Bobo slithered over at once, tongue flicking in and out in genuine distress. “Oh, no, you’re all wet now!”

Perfect.

Bobo, I leave our guest in your capable hands. (I said that without an ounce of sarcasm. I know, I was proud of myself too.) Please do see that she gets dried off before she catches a cold. (And before she tracked dirty water all over the Temple.) Floridiana, if you would please come with me to inform the steward that we have a guest?

The mage looked torn between observing the serow-drying process and monitoring my actions, but in the end, she obeyed.

As we entered the Temple, I heard the serow ask all of a sudden, “Wait. Was that a spirit?” and Bobo answer in a panicky way, “Um, ssshe’s sssort of…um…ssspecial! It’s complicated, but you’ll sssee! Ssshe’s very ssspecial!”

Well, of course I was.

But it was all right to start letting outsiders know about me and my unique existence. I had a plan.

Ka-thunk!

The latest invader raised the most satisfying dust storm when The Valiant Prince of the Victorious Whirlwind gripped the scruff of the bear’s neck in his teeth, swung his head around, and flung the bear to the ground.

Craaaaack!

The impact pulverized the paving stones where the bear landed. “Ooooooooh. Oooooooh,” he moaned.

The Valiant Prince of the Victorious Whirlwind planted his hooves, tossed his flowing mane, and whinnied his triumph to the heavens. A mountain bamboo partridge spirit who’d just flown above the wall immediately dropped down on the other side.

Oh boy, did he hope Piri was watching! Then she’d have to acknowledge his awesome heroic might, and she’d finally treat him with the respect that he deserved!

“Take THAT! THAT’S what you happens when you invade MY territory!” he bellowed at the bear.

The bear groaned some more. He seemed inclined to agree.

Now, now, Dusty, chided the most gentle, the most tender, the absolutely most loving voice he had ever heard, both before or after he awakened. Is that the way we treat our guests?

The voice – it came from Piri. Or at least, from the sparrow that looked exactly like Piri. But it couldn’t be Piri, could it? She never sounded like that!

She stroked his forelock with one soft wingtip, no hint of her usual condescension in the gesture. There, now, everything is all right. You don’t need to fight anymore. You’ve worked very hard and done very well to protect everyone in this Temple, but everything is all right now.

At her words, all his tension and aggression drained out of him. He found himself leaning into the caress. He had worked very hard, and he had protected everyone in the Temple, and, truth be told, he’d been scared and confused, but now the adults were here to manage the situation and he could relax.

Behind Piri was Bobo, one loop of her coils draped comfortingly over the withers of – oh hey, it was that serow who’d jumped into the garden earlier. He narrowed his eyes and blew at her, and she trembled most satisfyingly.

Further back, closer to the front door, Mage Flori was herding the priests into a line. They’d donned their fancy silk robes, and they actually looked pretty good. Like a bunch of colorful butterflies.

While The Valiant Prince of the Victorious Whirlwind had been assessing the situation, Piri had landed on the smashed paving stones next to the bear’s head. One eye cracked open to regard her, but the rest of the bear didn’t move.

Under normal circumstances, The Valiant Prince of the Victorious Whirlwind would have expected her to start screaming about damage to the intricate pattern she’d selected for the paving stones, but she said instead, Oh dear, you’re injured, aren’t you? Poor dear. Can you sit up?

“Unggggh?” asked the bear and The Valiant Prince of the Victorious Whirlwind in unison.

Can you sit up, dear? Is anything broken? she repeated, with a great deal more patience than she ever used on any of them. Bobo, do help him up.

“Ngggggh.” With Bobo’s help, the bear hauled himself up into a sitting position. His black fur was matted with blood and sweat, and the cream crescent moon across his chest was so dirty that it was barely visible.

Oh dear, you are hurt! Mage Floridiana, do heal him, please.

From the sidelong glance Mage Flori slid in Piri’s direction, she had also noted the complete change in demeanor. Still, she left the priests and came forward, seal in hand.

Dusty dear, do be a dear and open the gates, would you please?

The Valiant Prince of the Victorious Whirlwind was so thrown off by all the kindness and courtesy that he was halfway to the gates before he registered what she’d just ordered him to do.

“You want me to do WHAAAAT?”

Whether Dusty got it or not, I had a plan.

Dusty dear, do open the gates, would you please? I repeated.

The horse actually looked past me at Floridiana for confirmation!

Most gates and exterior doors I’d seen in Goldhill opened inward, which I thought was an everlastingly idiotic idea. Why would you want a door that opened in the same direction that an angry mob would go? No, when I’d remodeled the Black Crag mansion into the Temple, I’d ordered the direction of all the doors to be reversed. They opened outward now. It was the better direction for escaping a burning building, anyway. I’d heard tales about servants who got trapped in the palace with Cassius when he turned it into the world’s most opulent funeral pyre.

As instructed, the serow put her nose to the crack between the doors and called, “Hey, everyone! It’s okay! We’re opening the gates now, so please step back so we can open them!”

She had to repeat that several times, but from my vantage point high in the air, I could see her words penetrate the roar of the mob. The rioters at the very front stopped trying to beat down the gate or jump or scale the walls. They didn’t have room to step back yet, but a wave of calm slowly rippled outward.

“We’re going to open the gates! Please step back so we have room to open the gates!” called the serow again.

At Floridiana’s nod, Dusty unbarred the gates and pushed them out just a tiny bit, not enough to hit anyone, but enough for the crowd to see what was happening and back up. It took a while, because the street was packed with people who all had to rearrange themselves.

There was a nasty moment when the opening between the doors was wide enough for one person to shove through, and I thought that a human man would try. He took one step forward – but when no one followed, he stopped.

Framed by the gates, the serow called, “Friends! It’s all right! It’s safe in here!”

A few tentative cheers drifted up from the crowd, plus a lone, suspicious, “It’s a lie!” that was shushed.

Now it was Bobo’s turn to slither up and call, “Yep! It’s ssscary and dangerous out there! You ssshould all come in! We’ll keep you sssafe!”

A smattering of voices shouted, “Down with the Queen!” but they lacked conviction. Very few of these people actually wanted to go storm the palace and get shot on the spot or hunted down and executed in creative ways later. They just needed time and clear heads to realize that.

Bobo slithered to one side and the serow to the other, letting the crowd see that the priests were arrayed by the front door like servants welcoming guests to a ball.

“Come in!” Bobo urged the rioters. “We have food and tea for everybody! I’ll bet you’re all hungry!”

The “food and tea” part was what got them. The human man who’d considered shoving his way in earlier was the first to cross the threshold, a pangolin woman on his heels. When nothing bad happened to them, the rest of the crowd flowed forward. Following Floridiana’s instructions, the priests guided the guests around the side of the Temple, spreading them out throughout the gardens so we could accommodate as many as possible.

In the bustle, I alighted on the serow’s head, behind her short, curved horns. All right. Time to go.

Then, remembering the persona I was playing, I added, That was very well done, dear. That was very brave of you.

She was quivering from nervous tension, but she still thanked me, as was my due.

I accepted it graciously, then looked around for my steed. Dusty! Come on! It’s time to go get Katu!