The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

In the throne room:

“You put your personal seamstress in charge of the Temple to the Kitchen God?”

In the hush that fell over the throne room, a courtier tittered and was quickly hushed. Standing at the foot of the dais, Anthea looked a long way up into Jullie’s impassive face.

“Your Majesty,” she replied steadily, “I placed the granddaughter of the Mage-Architect of Lychee Grove in charge of the Temple.”

She’d only meant to bolster Lodia’s credentials by pointing out that the girl, shrinking and terrified though she was, did come from a family that wielded some amount of political power. But as soon as the words left her tongue, she knew that she’d misstepped.

Jullie didn’t need to comment. Her uncle did it for her.

“Lychee Grove,” snarled the Earl of Black Crag. “The fief whose Lady has never acknowledged the Crown’s authority? The fief that is a poison at the heart of this kingdom? The fief that should have been crushed and burned to the ground long before now? And you thought that the granddaughter of its Mage-Architect would be the best person to ensure that the Temple acknowledges the authority of the Crown?”

When he put it that way….

Ugh, this was why Anthea hated getting mixed up in politics! All she’d wanted to do was construct a replica of her long-ago, lost-forever home and live a facsimile of her long-ago, lost-forever life. From the start, she’d told Piri that she didn’t get involved in politics. So what was she doing here in the throne room, pushing for her choice for the Matriarch of the Temple that Piri had established?

She should have remembered that her long-ago, lost-forever life had featured Piri’s machinations very prominently indeed.

“In terms of personality, Koh Lodia is as unlike her grandmother as you can imagine, Your Grace,” Anthea told the Earl of Black Crag, wishing it didn’t come out quite so much like a protest. Protesting meant that you believed you were in the wrong. It was Piri who had said that, long, long ago. “Lodia has a sweet, docile personality – ”

“Meaning that she will be the ideal vessel through which her grandmother and the Lady of Lychee Grove can wield their influence,” finished Jullie’s cousin. The Earl of Yellow Flame curled his lip, obviously irked to find himself on the same side as his uncle.

This was not going well. On the rare occasions that the two earls actually agreed on something, Jullie usually followed their advice.

I wish Piri were here. The thought slid into Anthea’s mind like a dagger.

She jolted. She wished Piri were here? No. Absolutely not. She was not Koh Lodia. She did not need a demon mind to puppet her actions. She was well over six hundred years old (if she counted her mortal years, which she did), and she could win her own battles, thank you very much.

Anthea bared her teeth, letting their points go sharp. “Or – she will make the ideal vessel through which Her Majesty may exert her influence over the future of the Temple. Lodia is a member of my household.” She stared straight up at Jullie, silently reminding the Queen that when all her other courtiers had fled, even her cousin and her uncle, Anthea alone had stayed. Anthea alone had tried to get her to safety.

Jullie’s cool eyes studied her for a long moment, weighing the likelihood that Anthea might one day turn against her and leverage the Temple against her and her successors. That was a legitimate risk that a ruler had to consider. Anthea acknowledged it, even if it stung.

I’m your friend, she thought at the woman on the throne. I’ve been your friend since you were a little girl crying over the death of your father, who needed a fluffy raccoon dog to hug. Why would you believe that I would ever stop being your friend?

Piri would say that there were no friends at court, only temporary allies.

Anthea quashed that thought. She wasn’t that little five-tailed fox, to record every inane phrase Piri uttered and to ponder it and impute wisdom to it that simply didn’t exist.

At last, Jullie leaned back against her throne. “Very well. We accept your choice for the Matriarch of the Temple to the Kitchen God.”

Her phrasing soured the victory for Anthea, but she would take the win.

In the Temple:

After Floridiana and Dusty left, the days passed in a blur of activity. Just as I had planned, people poured through the Temple gates, bearing offerings for the Divine Intercessor. They kept the priests so busy that we soon had a near-rebellion on our hands.

“’S too much work.” The most quarrelsome priest cornered Katu in the main hall one morning. Right under the staring eyes of the Kitchen God’s image, the priest demanded, “We need more priests or more pay. You pick.”

Clumped up behind him, the other priests bobbled their heads and chorused their assent. What – did they think we were voting to decide Temple policy now? Floridiana should have left this man in the slum. Was it too late to send him back?

Before I could decide how much damage it would do to our image if we started firing priests, Camphorus Unus spoke up with his own concern. “High Priest, I would be remiss in my duties as steward if I did not warn you that the amount of perishable offerings we are receiving exceeds the Temple’s needs and will soon spoil if not consumed.”

After the offerings’ spiritual essence was dedicated to the Kitchen God, the staff would remove them from the tables and transfer them to the storeroom. Which was apparently overflowing.

It was a good problem to have. And I was curious how Katu would solve it.

“Too many offerings…. Too few priests…,” he muttered. His gaze traveled over the priests’ and the steward’s shoulders to the image on the altar. “What would the Divine Intercessor want…?” (More offerings.) “Oh! Of course! Take the excess offerings to the slum and distribute them. While you’re there, recruit more priests.”

Personally, I’d have thrown another massive banquet, but this wasn’t bad either.

So our first cohort of priests loaded two wagons with excess food, made a visit home, and returned several hours later with two wagons of slum dwellers. I hadn’t even told them to prioritize humans over spirits – they’d done it all on their own. Camphorus Unus got the new priests bathed, clothed, fed, and housed in the spare bedrooms.

Speaking of housing arrangments, Katu had long since moved out of Anthea’s mansion and into a set of rooms at the Temple, but Lodia had not. That would never do. It was unseemly for the Matriarch to live in Anthea’s mansion and not the Temple she supposedly ran. It implied to all the world that the Temple was not an independent organization, but the plaything of a courtier allied with the Crown. Between the demon invasion and the festival, I hadn’t had time wrest her away from Anthea yet, but now it was time.

Katu, tell Lodia that we need her at the Temple for Matriarchal duties, I instructed. And tell her to bring everything she needs, because she’s going to be living here from now on.

As I should have expected, it wasn’t Lodia who showed up – but the raccoon dog.

Ugh. Anthea was going to fuss over losing twenty-four-hour access to her personal seamstress, wasn’t she? Well, I had no sympathy. If she’d wanted to hang on to her Junior Wardrobe Mistress, she should never have pushed Lodia into the position of Matriarch to start with.

In my most saccharine tone, I greeted the raccoon dog. Why, hello there, Anthea. Did you wish to pray to the Divine Intercessor?

At the implication that she’d need to leave her own home to pray to her own patron god, she gnashed her teeth. They were a little pointy. Good. She was already on the verge of losing her temper. I gave her one more push.

I’m sure one of the priests would be happy to escort you to the main hall so that you may make your offerings and speak to the Divine Intercessor. We have only today recruited a new cohort of priests, so it will be good for them to see how it is done.

Claws slid out of Anthea’s fingertips and sank back under her flesh. “You know perfectly well why I am here. Don’t waste my time.”

A most original comeback indeed.

But dearest Anthea, what other purpose could possibly have been important or urgent enough for the queen’s most trusted confidante to come to the Temple in person?

She actually stamped her be-slippered foot. “I’m here because you’re trying to steal Koh Lodia away from me again!”

Steal Koh Lodia? I blinked my bright, round sparrow’s eyes at her. Whatever could you mean?

“I mean just that! You were the one who threw her at me. You were the one who got me to hire her as Junior Wardrobe Mistress. And I did, and now you’re trying to steal her. You always do that!”

If she’d noticed a pattern, shouldn’t she have tried to break it by now?

But dearest Anthea, I was content for her to stay in your household when she was your Junior Wardrobe Mistress. (Not least because I could summon her any time I wanted.) But surely you can see that to have the Matriarch living in the home of a single courtier, especially a courtier so closely tied to the throne as you –

I shook my head sadly.

You know, and I know, and I daresay everyone in the Temple knows, that nothing will change, no matter where Lodia lives. But the optics – the people’s perception of reality. We are in the business of soothing hearts and minds, are we not? They will not feel soothed if they believe that the Temple is the queen’s favorite courtier’s plaything.

Anthea clenched her fists. “That is all it can be.”

A passing priest gasped, then hurried on.

“Don’t you see? Jullie’s never going allow the Temple to grow into an independent entity that can challenge the Crown. She already sees it as a threat!”

Heads began popping out around doorjambs. The Temple staff was eavesdropping as hard as they could.

Keep your voice down, I admonished Anthea. You’re going to demoralize everyone.

I didn’t say “scare them off,” but that was what she was going to do if she kept shrieking that the queen’s wrath was going to fall on the Temple and separate all of the staff’s heads from their shoulders.

Anthea, naturally, kept talking at full volume. “I had the most awful time convincing her to accept Lodia as Matriarch! The only reason she agreed was that Lodia lives in my household and is under my control, and I convinced her that she – I mean Jullie – can influence the Temple through me and Lodia!”

You did what?!

“I said, I convinced Jullie to accept Lodia’s appointment as Matriarch – ”

And what made you think that was a good idea?! Anthea! Did you learn nothing from watching me all those years? You NEVER ask for permission! You go ahead and do it, and you act confident that the world will accept your actions – and then it does!

A shaggy grey ear and a single white-tipped auburn tail poked out around a corner: Steelfang and the foxling. I had a feeling that more of my words were going to end up on the foxling’s list.

We’re setting up a Serica-wide network of Temples! How could you set a precedent where the monarch of South Serica gets a say in who heads the organization?

Wings flapped and scales rustled. Stripey and Bobo had arrived at last.

“What’s happening?” Bobo asked. “What’s going on with the Queen?”

The queen wants to control the Temple!

That seems natural, observed Stripey.

What?!

“There! What did I tell you?” Anthea crowed.

I rounded on her. We can’t let her control the Temple. No one is going to trust it if they believe the royal government controls it rather than the Kitchen God, and if no one trusts it, they’re not going to bring offerings!

Anthea waved a dismissive hand. “Of course they will. I’m the Queen’s best friend. If they think it will please me, of course they’ll bring offerings.”

I stared at her. The courtiers, yes. But only until you fall out of favor with your precious queen. Or she dies. What I’m trying to do is guarantee that everyone will bring offerings in perpetuity!

“Only the courtiers’ offerings are worth anything anyway.”

If only we hadn’t just emptied the storeroom to feed the slum so I could show it to her! Maybe the courtiers’ individual offerings are worth more, but everyone else’s offerings add up to far, far more. We just sent two wagonloads of food to feed the slum.

Anthea bit her lip as the gravity of her mistake finally dawned on her. “Oh. Fine. But what do we do with Lodia now? She certainly can’t live here or at my place.”

I let her stew in regret for a little longer before I offered the solution.

There, there, Anthea, don’t you fret. We were planning to establish more Temples, were we not? What better time for the Matriarch to visit the site of the next Temple to the Kitchen God?