The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

I have returned.

How many times had I fantasized about proclaiming those words to an awed, intimidated, prostrate audience?

In between my reincarnations as an earthworm that renewed the soil and terrified small children, a caterpillar that ate the crops of poor farmers, a butterfly that delighted a budding natural philosopher, a bee that pollinated orchards, an oyster that did whatever “ecosystem engineers” did, and then during my reincarnations as a catfish that fed humans and advised a dragon king, a turtle that improved a barony and took down a great demon, and now a sparrow that influenced the affairs of a whole kingdom, I had fantasized about this. About reclaiming my former, rightful glory.

And now I had – partially. For I was not yet a fox. I was only a fox spirit’s mind trapped in a sparrow’s body borrowing a star sprite’s glow. The satisfaction was great, but the triumph was incomplete.

Well, there would be time later to work on that. For now, I had a passel of demonlings to cow.

Sphaera, my child, do you covet a crown? In toppling a kingdom, do you seek to prove yourself my worthy successor?

“Is this not what we foxes do, Great Lady?” she countered.

At least, I thought it was a counter. It could have been a genuine question, disguised as a counter. Curse this light that blinded me too and kept me from reading her body language!

Can you dim the light a little? I hissed at Flicker.

“Only if you want them to be able to see us,” he whispered back.

Never mind.

I’d been a blind earthworm before. I could function without vision. Hearing would do. And my hearing told me that I hadn’t yet heard the thumps that accompanied people prostrating themselves. That needed to be fixed.

I injected deep disappointment into my voice. Sphaera, my child, what we foxes do goes so far beyond the coveting of crowns and the toppling of empires. Our ambition is vast, limited only by imagination itself! Our thirst – our hunger is endless! Do not shackle yourself to the emulation of past deeds!

There – that sounded inspiring enough. And indeed, a silence followed that I imagined was awed.

Then I heard a muffled sound outside the tent that might have been a snake struggling to hold back giggles. If sparrows could blush, I would have turned as pink as a rosefinch.

Feeling self-conscious, I strove to recapture the character of Piri, Nine-Tailed Fox, role model and wise mentor to little foxlings. Therefore, ask not how you can equal past deeds, but how you can surpass them!

“Surpass them,” murmured Sphaera, and this time I was certain that she sounded appropriately overawed. “How can I surpass them?”

The question might have been rhetorical, but I chose to answer it. By creating something great.

Her tone brightened. “So I can tear it down later? When it reaches its zenith?”

That wasn’t precisely what I had in –

“As you did with the Empire?”

Oh. Oh! Here was an idea! Precisely. What glory is there in quashing petty kings and queens who can barely hold their own kingdoms together?

“Yes! I will forge all of Serica back into one empire, and then I will annihilate it!”

That is a goal more worthy of a fox.

Standards of living for everyone, not just humans, had been much higher in the Empire, meaning that so long as I encouraged her efforts, I and this cute little foxling would both reap positive karma. And once we’d succeeded in re-forging the Empire, I would convince her that it was more advantageous to leave it standing.

At long last, I heard the rustle of fabric and fur that suggested she was bowing properly to her great ancestress. “Thank you for your guidance, Great Lady.” Then the rustle drew closer, so close that I was starting to panic when her voice whispered, “Great Lady, what do you do with your tails when you lounge?”

Coiled up behind a shrub next to her best friend in the whole world, Bobo couldn’t help bursting into giggles. Far from being a horrible, mean, scary demon like Lord Silurus, this fox queen was really just a cute spirit deep down.

“Oooooh! Oh! Hee hee hee hee hee! Oh, that’s ssso funny! Oh, that’s too cute!”

Stripey looked at her with that expression he always used to wear, back when he was a duck and the two of them attended parties in Caltrop Pond, the one that said he didn’t know what she found so funny, but if she found it funny, then he would too. All he needed was for her to explain it to him, so he could join in the joke.

Sure enough, he asked, What’s so funny? What are they saying in there?

Oh, right. He wasn’t a spirit anymore. He was a mind inside a normal animal body, like Rosie. So his hearing wasn’t good enough to hear what they were saying inside the tent.

“That fox ssspirit jussst asssked what to do with her tails!”

Her tails?

“Yep! When ssshe lounges! I thought that looked uncomfortable! Cuz ssshe was sssquassshing her tails!”

Unlike usual, Stripey didn’t burst out laughing too. Instead, he looked stunned. That’s what they’re discussing in there?

“Oh, no, they talked about a lot of ssstuff before that too. Sssomething about…uh, putting the Empire back together? They usssed sssome words I don’t know.”

Putting the Empire back together?!

I gaped at Sphaera. What did I do with my tails when I lounged?

I realized I was gaping, snapped my beak shut, and then let it fall open once more when I remembered that she couldn’t see me through Flicker’s light.

The foxling sidled closer. “My tails keep going to sleep,” she confided. “I’m positive I copied your pose exactly, down to the last fur, but how do you keep your tails from going to sleep? When they’re stuck under your back, I mean?”

I very nearly burst into laughter. At the same time, I couldn’t help but warm to her. Poor, naïve little foxling. She must have seen some painting of me reclining on a silken couch, picking at a sumptuous meal while musicians and dancers entertained me, or something along those lines, and then done her best to copy it. In this day and age, when East Sericans were painting foxes on cakes and biting their heads off, it was gratifying to find someone who still worshipped me to such a degree. (Or any degree, really.)

I’ll let you in on a secret, I murmured, and the foxling leaned in so close that her breath ruffled my feathers. Flicker, I was pretty sure, had stopped breathing. It’s not comfortable. Beauty never is. You just deal with your tails going numb and you keep smiling. And if you think arranging five tails is bad enough, try nine.

“Oooooooh,” she gasped, like someone who had just received the answer to the most important question of her existence. “Thank you! Thank you, Great Lady, for your wisdom!”

To Flicker’s and my relief, she moved back, and she must have bowed, because all around the tent, I heard demons dropping to the ground.

In this moment of triumph, Flicker hissed, “Now what? I’m about to run out of light.”

Seriously, he couldn’t keep going just a little longer? Just so I could savor my triumph? But no. Of course not. He was no star god, only a star sprite, with all the limitations that entailed.

Give me two minutes, I hissed back before proclaiming in a warm, melodious voice, My child. All my children. (More rustling as the flattered demons bowed deeper.) I cannot stay, but I will leave you my emissary, to advise you and aid you. I wish you much success and much glory. May we meet again when Heaven falls.

There was a collective intake of breath, including from the employee of Heaven at my back.

Okay, fine, I might have gotten a little carried away there, the same way Katu did when he was expounding on the glory of the Kitchen God, but that final sentence could equally have been interpreted as “May we never meet again.”

Or not.

“Great – Great Lady!” gasped Sphaera. “May we meet again when Heaven falls!”

All around the tent, the other demons echoed, “May we meet again when Heaven falls.”

Since there was nothing I could say to top that, I whispered to Flicker, You can go back now. I’ll take it from here.

“If you say so,” he muttered in a rather unconvinced way, but the light, and his palms under me, vanished.

I was left beating my wings to stay aloft, while a tentful of demons slowly raised their heads and blinked the spots from their eyes.

The foxling regarded me dubiously, seemingly as unconvinced as Flicker that the greatest fox spirit of all time would select a drab mortal sparrow as her emissary. A peacock would have been more credible. Well, nothing I could do about that, except maybe to have Lodia embroider me a cape. Hey, it worked for Katu, didn’t it?

Seizing the initiative, I zipped over to the foxling’s right shoulder and settled down on it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Greetings, Sphaera. I shall be advising you as you embark on your request to reunify Serica. You may call me Pip.

Up in Heaven:

“Heavenly Lady! Heavenly Lady!”

Heedless of how it looked to the employees of the Bureau of the Sky, Flicker charged towards Star’s office. He dodged around a star sprite who was carrying an armful of scrolls, careened off a large painting another was carrying, and leaped over a star child who was scrabbling around on the floor for some marbles she’d dropped. A corner of his mind registered that it was Star’s favored runner, but then he was skidding to a halt in front of her office. Her crane maiden attendants blocked the door, keeping up the pretense that their mistress didn’t meet him in secret regularly.

Since he was a mere clerk, he puffed for breath and bowed so deeply that he nearly fell over. “I beg your pardon, but I must speak with the Star of Reflected Brightness. It’s urgent.”

The more senior of the crane maidens, Lady Grus, faked a frown. “On what business could a clerk from the Bureau of Reincarnation possibly wish to consult the Overseer of the Bureau of the Sky?”

Maybe the frown wasn’t fake after all. It was a warning: Do not expose our mistress.

If his news had been any less urgent, he would have apologized profusely and left at once. But he couldn’t. She needed to know.

The other crane maiden, Lady Dan, tapped Lady Grus’ arm lightly with her fan. “Oh come now, he’s so desperate. Maybe it’s important. Surely it can’t hurt to give him a few minutes of our lady’s time.”

As the one who was carrying on a not-so-secret affair with Star’s ex-husband, Lady Dan was inclined to be more sympathetic towards Star and Flicker. Out of a guilty conscience, he suspected.

Whatever the cause, he would take it. He bowed nearly to the floor. “Thank you, my lady.”

Lady Grus’ frown deepened, but she stepped aside just far enough for him to squeeze through the doorway. “Two minutes. Our lady is busy.”

When Flicker sidled past, he found Star on her feet already. “What is it? What happened? What did Cassius do to you?”

“Cassius – ? Oh, no, nothing,” he reassured her. “He takes no notice of me. It’s – it’s Piri.” He hated to bring up the former fox around her.

And indeed, she stiffened, as she always did when her old nemesis came up. “What’s she up to now?”

“Well, she’s in the process of stopping the demon horde from overrunning South Serica, but, um, she found out who was behind the horde. And met her. And, uh, talked to her. As herself. As Piri, I mean.”

“And said what?”

Star’s voice chilled Flicker to his very core. “Uh, the fox demon, Sphaera Algarum, was talking about destroying South Serica like Piri destroyed the – the Empire.” He hesitated, but Star’s face didn’t change. “Piri suggested she reunify Serica instead, because it would be more satisfying to take that apart – ”

“She suggested WHAT?”

“But I’m pretty sure that was just a ploy! To distract the demons from destroying Goldhill! But I don’t think – I think – I think she – ”

White-hot light blasted out of Star. Porcelain vases shattered. Bookshelves splintered. Flicker himself was forced into a corner, where he huddled behind an overturned chair and struggled to withstand the onslaught.

Ladies Grus and Dan rushed into the room, then flung up their arms and turned away from the light.

As it blazed out the open door across the Bureau of the Sky, clerks cried out and dropped scrolls, brushes, and inksticks to shield their heads.

Into this chaos spoke a new voice, heavy and inevitable. “It is fated.”

The brilliance faded. As Flicker cautiously lowered his arms and opened teary eyes, he noticed that Ladies Grus and Dan were bowing low.

Framed by the exploded rosewood lattice, a new goddess stood in the doorway. A sleek cat rode on her shoulder, surveying the destruction with disapproving blue eyes.

Lady Fate spoke again. “It is fated. The Empire shall rise once more.”