The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

“Pull left! Pull left! He’s telling us to go left!” bellowed one of the bears on the left side of the palanquin that held the Kitchen God’s image.

The bears on that side yanked on their carrying pole, making the palanquin tip precariously. Its silk hangings, beaded and embroidered by Lodia, flapped like war banners.

“No, he wants us to go right!” a bear on the right side of the palanquin yelled back. “He tugged on the pole! I felt it!”

“I felt a stronger tug to the left!”

“Left! Left! Left!” chanted the crowd of Goldhill residents on the left side of the palanquin.

“Right! Right! Right!” shouted the residents on the right.

To laughter and whoops and applause, the bears tussled furiously. I had most definitely not told them to do that, but the Goldhill residents were having so much fun that I decided not to stop them.

Eventually, the bears on the left won out, and the palanquin zigzagged on its merry path down the street.

Good thing they tied down the image, Stripey observed. The two of us were flying after the palanquin, supervising its progress from the air.

Good thing the South Sericans remember how to make paper, was my response.

This procession wouldn’t have been nearly as festive without the firecrackers. Worshippers lit them and hurled them into the Kitchen God’s path, carpeting the ground with shredded red paper. The dragon and lion dancers bounded through the smoke, their colors flashing.

I spotted a man who was heating a plow over an open fire. He swiped the fuses of a handful of firecrackers across the hot metal and flung them into the street. Idiot. If he blew off his own hands, I was not going to be responsible.

Except I probably was.

Note to self: Next year, make sure the healers are on alert.

What are those people doing?! Stripey’s alarm yanked me out of thoughts of next year’s karma-earning festival.

Down in the street, an elderly human couple hobbled right in front of the palanquin and slowly got down on their hands and knees, prostrating themselves. I could see the bears’ consternation: Were they supposed to detour around the couple? If so, in which direction?

One of the bears shouted, “He’s not pulling in either direction! He wants us to go straight!”

Straight? As in, right over the old man and woman? I could have pecked his eyes out!

“Yes!” agreed the crowd. “Straight! Straight!”

I couldn’t peck all of their eyes out, and yet….

The bears stepped outward to open up more space under the palanquin. Then they marched forward again, carrying the image over the couple. Once they had passed, onlookers helped the old humans to their feet. Tears streamed down their cheeks, and the old woman sobbed, “I felt his divine presence. He is here. He is watching over us.”

“They were blessed by the Kitchen God!” rose the shout, and the crowd swarmed the couple to pepper them with questions about how it had felt to be blessed by the god.

One, then two, then a dozen people chased after the palanquin, darted in front of it, and flung themselves to the ground one after another. The bears’ shoulders rippled with shrugs, and they carried the palanquin over those people too.

Are they trying to get trampled into meat paste? I complained.

I think they just don’t care, Stripey answered.

Okay, next year I was definitely putting all the healers in the city on high alert.

As we watched, more people joined the end of the prostration line. Forget letting the Kitchen God (or rather, the bears) determine the path of the palanquin! That line of worshippers was going to do it for him.

In the market district, all the shops had thrown wide their doors and decorated their storefronts with red streamers. Strings of red lanterns crisscrossed the streets, tied to the second stories of buildings. Stripey and I had to choose between flying under them and getting hit by a stray firecracker, or over them. We opted to fly over them, even if they obstructed our view of the palanquin. It wasn’t as if I were directing the show anymore anyway – the procession had taken on a life all of its own.

At least it was festive.

From an upstairs window, Lodia watched the procession approach the Temple, marveling at how sharp and clear the scene was. Even at such a distance, facial features stayed distinct. She could trace the outlines of the individual scales on the dragon dancers’ costume. She could even make out the flowers and butterflies that she’d embroidered onto the bear spirits’ vests! The spectacles that Mage Floridiana had given her were truly wondrous.

Although she wished that Katu were here to share the moment, he was busy downstairs, preparing to welcome the image home. She wasn’t alone, though, because Bobo, Mage Floridiana, and Dusty were squeezed in next to her at the window. Miss Caprina had chosen to use her amazing serow climbing skills to watch from the roof instead, and most of the priests would have joined her there if Lodia hadn’t pointed out that it would damage the dignified image they were projecting.

They were still arguing with her over it.

“Won’t it project the image that the priests of the Kitchen God are close to the common folk?” pointed out the crankiest priest. “We come from the people, so we should act like them.”

Mage Floridiana would have been a lot better at refuting the priests’ arguments, but her attention was riveted on the dragon dancers. She was criticizing their technique under her breath.

Lodia wrenched her attention away from the procession and groped for a solid argument. What would Katu say? “Um, but you’ve been touched by the divine light of the Kitchen God, so that sets you above the common folk. So you should act like it.”

Elbows planted on the windowsill and chin propped on her hands, one of the child priests grumbled, “That looks fun. I wanna be down there too.”

“Careful. You’re going to rip the silk,” Lodia warned. She gently tried to correct the girl’s posture.

The child priest paid her no attention whatsoever.

“Back straight!” snapped Mage Floridiana. “That slouch is unacceptable. And stop waving! It’s undignified!”

“They have food!” shouted the other child priest, sounding outraged beyond measure. “They’re eating!”

Lodia sighed.

Pressed up against the next window, the Fox Queen clapped her hands. “This is amazing! All those firecrackers! I’ve never seen so many firecrackers in one place in my life! Truly, Lady Piri’s representative works marvels!”

Pip had invited the only-recently-demonic leaders to stay in the Temple until she found permanent homes for them – for very good reasons, Lodia was sure, but did they have to be so terrifying? So loud? Their gestures were oversized. They swaggered when they could have walked. They shouted when a whisper would have done. Simply being in the same room as them set her nerves on edge, because she couldn’t predict what any of them would do next. They were just so different from the people she’d grown up with in Lychee Grove.

This isn’t Lychee Grove, silly, she chided herself. This is the capital.

Of course you got a greater variety of people in the capital. These ex-demons were just one more group that had moved in, and they would get absorbed into the culture of the city, adding their own customs to the mix and ultimately enriching the whole.

Below, the dragon undulated closer, gleaming in the sunlight. At the sight, the peacock ex-demon spread his tail and unleashed a screech that nearly blasted off the window lattice.

Lodia jumped and let out a little shriek of her own, but Mage Floridiana glared at him. “If you damage the Temple, you will answer to Lady Piri’s representative.”

The peacock shook his tail and glared right back until the Fox Queen swatted him with a long, trailing sleeve. Her clothing, at least, was familiar to Lodia. Even if the silk were coarser and the dyes less brilliant, the cut of the gown was very similar to what South Serican noblewomen favored. Lodia felt instinctively comforted every time she saw the Fox Queen, even though her grandmother and father would have reprimanded her for judging people by their clothing.

Rightly so, too.

Lodia did her best to think good, fair things about the peacock. He’d led his clan all the way from the Jade Mountain Wilds, which meant that he was tenacious and a good leader. He’d sworn off eating human flesh too, which Pip had said was a great sacrifice for demons, so he was willing to adapt and compromise with humans, or at least didn’t see them only as food –

A big, wet nose shoved into the side of Lodia’s neck. She shrieked and jumped even harder this time, tripping over her own hem. She would have gone sprawling if a bright green coil hadn’t braced her.

The big wolf ex-demon, Steelfang, threw back his head and howled – literally howled – with laughter. “A mouse! A mouse! What a timid little mouse!”

“Ssstop being mean to her!” hissed Bobo. “Do you think it’s funny to bully young humans?”

Steelfang’s amber eyes went huge. “Bullying? It’s just a bit of fun!” He poked Lodia in the arm with his nose, more gently this time, but still leaving a wet mark on the silk that would be hard to remove. “Eh, human girl? Just a bit of fun on a festival day!”

“Mmm, yes,” she mumbled, stepping away from his nose, which was extremely close to his sharp, steel teeth. “Just a bit of fun.”

Bobo’s tongue flicked out, and she seemed to be about to scold the wolf some more, but at that moment, the first of the worshippers raced into the courtyard, hurling firecrackers in a path all the way to the front steps.

“Oh, those idiots better not burn down the Temple!” snapped Mage Floridiana. “Priests! It’s time.” Gathering up her robes, she bustled out of the room with the priests on her heels.

“Come, friends! It’s time to party!” cried the Fox Queen.

She swept after the mage, and the rest of the ex-demons and Dusty charged after her in a whirl of fur and feathers.

Bobo started to slither out of the room too, but she stopped when she realized Lodia wasn’t following. “Aren’tcha coming?”

“I’ll come downstairs in a bit,” Lodia promised. “I just need to….” She waved vaguely, but Bobo understood.

“Sssee you later! Come down before they eat all the good food!”

And then the snake was gone, and the room was blessedly silent. Lodia sighed with relief. She touched the wire frame of her spectacles, resettled them on her nose, and gazed out at the clean, crisp lines of the rooftops in the distance.

The procession poured into the Temple courtyard, littering the ground with crimson shreds of paper. At the top of the steps stood Katu, the butterfly spirits flitting about his head and shoulders in a riot of colors.

“Welcome, friends!” he shouted. He raised his arms Heavenward, and the butterflies flew up, exaggerating the motion. “The Divine Intercessor has blessed the city of Goldhill! Let us now welcome him home to his own Temple!”

As the bears carried the palanquin up the steps, the crowd tried to surge after it, but Floridiana, Dusty, Camphorus Unus, and the priests held them back. “The installation of the god’s image is a sacred moment,” they explained. “You will have a chance to see him and present offerings to him shortly.”

That restraint had been my idea – mostly because I worried that letting a crowd like that into the Temple would result in too much property damage. Better to funnel the worshippers inside, in a trickle and in a more sober, contemplative mood.

Stripey and I flew after the palanquin, following it into the main hall. There, the bears stopped, and Katu untied the silk cords that secured the image. Holding it in both hands, he reverently circled the offering table, stepped up to the altar, and set the image back in its place.

I hovered a little ways back, supervising. It’s off center. A little to the left. No, your left, not its left. Now turn it a little – yes, that’s good. Perfect. Leave it.

Katu took his time arranging the drape of the image’s robes before he finally stepped back. He dropped to his knees before the image. The bears all followed suit, even though there was no audience here.

Well, I supposed the Kitchen God might be watching. Was probably watching. Stripey and I landed on the floor and bowed.

Finally, Katu stood, giving us permission to rise as well. “Let us spread the glad tidings to all, that the Divine Intercessor has returned to his Temple!”

I very heroically suppressed an eye roll.

The plan was to announce the news to the crowd so they could file into the Temple to make their offerings – but when we returned to front door, I discovered that someone had thrown a raccoon dog into the spokes.

Namely, Anthea.

She posed at the top of the steps, in Katu’s spot. Behind her was a cringing Lodia.

Even as I watched, Anthea wrapped her fingers around Lodia’s wrist and pulled the girl forward. The crowd roared its approval.

What is going on here? I hissed.

Before anyone could answer, Anthea proclaimed, “Behold! The Matriarch of the Temple to the Kitchen God!”