The Way of the Fox (42 page)

The prince listened with barely restrained scorn.
He remained perfectly stiff and still inside his robes – like a mummy set on display.

“Kitsune are renowned for their interfering arrogance. But t
he way of heaven is clear.
‘Do nothing, and all shall be well.’
” The man swivelled his head to regard the fox.

“
The answer is no. I see no reason to disturb the balance of forces in this village.”

Sura
looked sharply up at the man, confronted by his arrogance.

“My
lord! The elders of the village have been most clear in their request. The monster is clearly a terrible burden upon the people.”

The prince sniffed, coldly dismissing the entire idea.

“Peasants lack the intelligence to truly understand such lofty affairs.” The prince turned his head again – his face seemingly swimming amongst his robes. “Interfering with the spirits and meddling in the occult has caused a curse. Further meddling will only make it worse. As it is, the marsh is easy to avoid.” The prince’s hand emerged from his robes, making a gesture as if to flick the Spirit Hunters away. “We shall let sleeping dogs lie.”

Kuno was moved to speak. He pushed forward his billet of authority for emphasis.

“My lord – the marsh might conceal a deeper problem that will cause trouble in the future. Surely the essence of wisdom is to gather information?”

The prince let his black eyes settle upon Kuno, taking in the details of the samurai – the tasteful beauty of Kuno’s armour lacings,
and the deep culture of the man’s accent. It merely made the prince curl his lip in aversion.

“
You are an imperial deputy, is that not so?”

“
Yes, my lord. I am in service to Magistrate Masura.”

The prince flicked his fingers. “
Then as a chief minister to the emperor – who is lord to your Magistrate Masura – I command you to forget this problem. The marsh is none of your affair.”

Kuno paled – such treatment was insulting,
and such an order seemed absolutely unreasonable. Still – he had no choice but to obey. Kuno bowed low, hiding his face.

“
Yes, Prince Horigawa. I understand.”

“That is an end to it.”

The prince arose, his robes rustling. Servants smoothed out his train and the great man vanished into the dark spaces within the house. Sura gave the minimum possible bow, then instantly arose, dusting off her hands. She took up her magical spear and headed straight for the garden gates. Her friends hastened after her, pausing to bow to the warrior monks, who watched them all with careful eyes.

Outside the gates, Sura met with the ancient fisherman, his friend the carpenter and several anxious young fishermen. She took of
f her tall formal cap as she spoke.

“
Right lads! Invisible monsters. I want some flour, some small paper bags, some hollow bamboo tubes, and eight basket lids. Oh – and a sack of rice crackers or old nut shells!” She was already pulling off her suikan, handing a fisherman her spear as she folded the robe. “Can you lend us a boat and a guide? We’ll need to be shown the route your wise woman might have used.”

Kuno overheard all of this in disbelief. He came racing over from the garden gates, utterly aghast.

“Sura san – you are disobeying the prince’s order?”

The fox turned a
hostile, derisive eye towards the prince’s house.

“I a
m Sura the Spirit Hunter! Why does the opinion of some prince interest me?” She handed her robes to a fisherman to carry, and took back her spear. “Foxes advise the court. They are not advised by it.” She paused and gave a frown. “Are his teeth supposed to be black like that, or should he be seeing someone about a possible problem?”

Kuno bowed his head – shamed and torn.

“Sura san – I feel that I am bound by his order. If you go, I cannot follow you.”

The fox was perfectly happy
as she led the way back down towards the seaside inn. “No no! Remember, he said you’re to forget this problem. The marsh just isn’t your affair.” She nudged Kuno on the arm. “Now buck up! You have the orders of your sovereign lord to follow. You samurai are big on that kind of thing, I hear!”

Kuno hastened after her. “
What orders?”

“
What are your orders from your lord, Magistrate Masura?”

The samurai puffed out his chest.

“To join the Spirit Hunters as one of their number.”

“
Fine!” Sura merrily led her friends downhill. “Well, the Spirit Hunters are going for a walk. You have to follow us if you’re going to obey your lord. Easy – see?” Sura’s tail waved merrily out of the back of her hakama. “Our walk just happens to be taking place in a monster-ridden swamp!”

Sura patted Kuno on his armoured shoulders.

“Cheer up! Come on – let’s go get you a pair of basket lids.”

The man followed after he, quite bemused. “
Basket lids?”

“
Trust me. This will be fun! We might even make it back in time for the barbeque.” Sura ruffled at her sleeves. “Oooh – swamp stomping! I’m going to change into some crappier clothes!”

Off she went,
happily moving at such a pace that Kuno was forced to almost jog after her, his armour clattering. The fishermen were already hastening off to do her bidding.

Tonbo and Chiri followed behind, strolling thoughtfully. Bifuuko kept an eye upon the prince’s house behind them, her little face dark with displeasure. Chiri sighed, stroking Daitanishi in her hands, feeling troubled by the interview with the prince.

Tonbo ambled along, relatively unconcerned. Chiri clung closely to his side.

“I did not expect such hostility, Tonbo san. I hope all will be well.”

The huge man merely gave a shrug.

“At le
ast she isn’t sneaking back to set fire to the house.”

“Could that happen?”

“It could happen.” Tonbo ambled off down towards the village.

“Never irritate a fox.”

It took scarcely half an hour to make ready for the marsh. Sura borrowed an old hemp robe, then raced into the kitchens and fussed about with weird ingredients brought to her by the innkeeper and the fishermen, before running back out with a bulging carry bag across her shoulder. She gathered her friends and slipped out of the inn through the back way, keeping low as she flitted away from the village.

The innkeeper came with them, nervously
pointing out a route that led off and away through the back ways of the village. They slipped past a vast pile of old clam shells, then climbed over a tall grass-covered dune that rose high above the village rooves. Sura kept to the tallest grass and thickest brush, vanishing from shadow to shadow.

They crossed over the hill, and pushed onwards through the grass.
The sounds of the festival faded away as the Spirit Hunters made their way down a grassy slope to where a broad, clear creek ran slowly off into the sea.

A flat-bottomed boat sat waiting by the shore. The ancient fisherman, moustache gleaming, stood by the boat. He was accompanied by a huge
silent youth who wore an immense straw hat.

The bowed old man nodded
to the Spirit Hunters as the arrived, and waved a hand towards the youth.

“Spirit Hunters! T
his is my great grandson, Atsushi.” The old man hobbled towards the boat. “I will pole you through the marshes! Atsushi will keep a look out at the bows.”

Chiri was immediately concerned.

“Honoured elder! Should Atsushi perhaps not do the poling?”

“Ah!” the old man considered. “It is perhaps high time Atsushi took command of a boat. I am not growing any younger!” The old man headed myopically off in the wrong direction. “This way! Climb aboard.”

Kuno leaned diplomatically across to murmur into the innkeeper’s ear.

“Innkeeper san – perhaps you might keep the honoured elder company at the bows?”

“Oh!” The innkeeper was clearly mortally afraid of the marsh, but he steeled himself. “I shall! Honoured elder – this way! Please please! Do watch your step!”

“
Watch my step? Young man, I have been on boats all of my life!”

“
Yes sir!”

“I do not need your assistance in entering a marsh punt
!”

“
Indeed sir, indeed!” The innkeeper managed to stop the old man from marching along a log and straight into the creek. “This way!”

Sura let them sort it out. The
huge youth stood steadying the boat, then helped to hand Chiri aboard – quite clearly spellbound by her delicate rodent face and long shining white hair. Tonbo waited with Sura, looking off along the creek to where it flowed into the dark, still marsh.

“So – the plan?”

The fox stroked at her long muzzle. “Let’s go see if we can find where the shugenja landed. They may have left a trail.” She looked off towards the rocky promontory far to the east. “And I want to take a look at that shrine.”

“Good.”
Tonbo strode forward towards the boat. “Watch your tail doesn’t get wet.”

With all aboard, Atsushi pushed away from the shore. The boat moved slowly out into the salt water creek, cruising past great messy nests made by
long, spindly herons.

Oystercatchers scuttled busily across the sands,
their long legs flashing. Sura watched it all and marvelled, then turned her clever nose towards the marsh.

The boat nosed
between two great, ragged islands. The marsh seemed to fold in on every side, swallowing them whole.

They lost
sight of the rocky promontory at the far end of the marsh. Little creeks and meanders all fed into one another. Trickling brown water glittered with swamp oils. Tall reeds screened the edges of the marsh flats, and the air became close and still.

Daita
nishi and Bifuuko peered out from Chiri’s robes, looking carefully at the trees – the creek, the reeds. They clung close to their mistress, and seemed full of apprehension.

The innkeeper was quite terrified. He jerked his head at every slight sound. With the sun sinking lower in the sky, the shadows lengthened. The little man stared wildly from shade to shade.

Tonbo put a huge, quiet hand upon the man’s shoulder.

“Steady,
innkeeper san. Steady.” He watched the marshes with sharp, calm senses. “Where might your shugenja have attempted to land?”

The ancient fisherman hunted his moustache back and forth, seeking amongst several creek openings nearby.

“The tide changes the creeks and mud flats, samurai. It has been years since anyone dared venture here.” The fisherman nodded, then pointed. “Ah – there! The broad, shallow passage. It is too wide to have closed. Atsushi chan! Take the middle passage!” The old man nodded wisely. “Yes – this should take us past the edge. But once we reach the mud fields, we must walk.”

The boat nosed onwards, poled carefully along by the youth. Kuno and Chiri sa
t in the rear of the boat, keeping a watch over the waterways. Moving carefully, Sura made her way forward along the middle of the boat, coming up behind the old fisherman. She kept her voice low, eyes scanning at the water.

“Grandfather san
. So the whalers will be gone all day?”

“Hmmm? Oh y
es, honoured priestess. If they catch a whale, they will be back with it at sundown. If they fail to make a catch, they will set out again before tomorrow dawn. In the meantime, they will drink. There is free sakē enough to drown the entire village.”

Sura wilted.

“Free booze?” The fox flicked a harsh glare at Kuno. “I hope you realise the amount of mooching I’ve given up for my professional principals here!”

Kuno
gave an immaculate bow. “It is noted.”

Sitting in t
he dead centre of the boat, Chiri held tightly to her seat. She was truly not much of a sea rat – she had crossed the Sano river twice, enjoying it neither time. Kuno turned to make certain that she was well. The rat nodded to him – but she clearly disliked every lurch and swell.

Tonbo set Chiri’s stomach churning: he
rose from his seat, looking up a side channel. His armoured bulk made the boat tilt alarmingly over to one side.

“
Atsushi san. Pull in there.”

The punt was slowly pushed through a mat of algae and on into a strange, still lagoon. On a reeking, muddy shore there were clear marks from two separate boat keels being thrust and dragged ashore – and deep pock marks in the mud from many feet. The punt was nosed to one side of the marks, and Tonbo leapt out to wade ashore – his feet sinking deep into the muck.

One of the old sets of drag marks was from a broad, flat bottomed boat – a marsh punt. The other showed a deep keel. Tonbo carefully examined the marks, then moved forward, inspecting the footprints.