Silk-Eyes spoke kindly. “Well said, Michiko-hime. You have the floor. What would you have us do?”
So once more Michiko had reddened and fallen silent in frustration. There was no answer. The dire situation around them had not changed, and they were still unable to affect it. Simply surviving was a major victory.
Now Pearl-Ear watched the princess from a broad, flat cedar stump as Michiko trained. The princess had thrown herself back into her magical and martial studies, working harder than she ever had in Eiganjo. Pearl-Ear encouraged this to further Michiko’s ability to protect herself, but also to give her frustration a constructive outlet. Life was almost idyllic for Michiko in Jukai, surrounded by her closest friends and most revered elders, but Pearl-Ear knew her student was on the cusp of an explosive outburst. The isolation and guilt she bore on behalf of her father were weighing on her, and she was responding to a primal urge to simply move.
Below, Michiko galloped down a long lane the villagers had cleared on the far side of the encampment. War steeds were scarce among the refugees, but there were a few of Konda’s cavalrymen eager to contribute to his daughter’s training. She was tall and beautiful, though she looked considerably rougher and wilder in the woven linens of the kitsune than in her flowing palace robes. With smooth, practiced motions Michiko nocked and fired six times at six targets as she galloped along the lane. She scored three hits in the center, two in the inner ring, and one on the outer.
“Excellent,” said Sharp-Ear, the princess’s yabusame archery coach and Pearl-Ear’s brother. He stood on top of a huge fallen log that marked the outer edge of the horse run. He was small, lithe, and quick even for a fox, and his short-muzzled face was always on the verge of a wink or a playful shrug. Like many of the kitsune, Sharp-Ear was crafty and prone to playing tricks and games on friend and foe alike. In Pearl-Ear’s opinion, he was an irksome scamp who should have been named “Sharp-Tongue” for his cutting wit and his quick grasp of any situation … but he was a loyal friend and a valuable ally even if he was an exasperating brother.
Sharp-Ear was something of a journeyman, expert in a number of different disciplines. He could harness the magic of field and forest, he was formidable on the back of a horse, and he was devastatingly accurate with the bow. He worked the princess hard during her yabusame training and his combination of good cheer and frequent drills helped Michiko progress far more quickly than she ever had with Pearl-Ear. If Pearl-Ear was a stern but caring aunt to the princess, Pearl-Ear was her boyish, indulgent uncle.
The refugees had been abuzz lately from a series of sudden arrivals. First, Isamaru, Konda’s dog and Michiko’s companion, had inexplicably turned up. The great pale akita bounded into the village unannounced and unexpected, barking happily at anyone and everyone until Michiko came calling his name. Isamaru had been trained to hunt, but his age had begun to catch up with him. This meant he couldn’t catch the rabbits of Jukai, but he was more than happy to join the chase. Some of the refugees were soldiers from Konda’s army, and they regarded the dog as a combination lucky charm and good omen. As long as he was there, they allowed themselves to hope.
The second round of visitors was even more remarkable. The honor guard of Eiganjo cavalry and kitsune samurai that escorted Pearl-Ear and Michiko to the academy was thought to have been killed in the massacre. Days after the main party had escaped Minamo, the soldiers joined them, bringing tales of terrifying brutality and the curious, taciturn ochimusha who brought them to safety.
Pearl-Ear recognized the soldier’s description of Toshi Umezawa, and she added his heroic actions to the growing list of inexplicable things he had done. In a matter of weeks he had kidnapped the princess, battled the orochi and a major myojin to a standstill on her behalf, murdered one of Michiko’s closest peers, freed her from house arrest, and rescued her when ogre and oni came to Minamo. Now for some reason he had returned to the school, and Pearl-Ear had a strong idea what that reason was.
Except for Konda himself, Toshi was one of the only people in Kamigawa to lay hands on the Taken One, and he had left it behind when he rescued Michiko and Pearl-Ear from the school. He must have returned there to take it back, or to exploit its mysterious power for his own use.
Pearl-Ear could not bring herself to trust or respect the man, but Toshi had done them great service as well as great harm. He was a mercenary and an opportunist and he always seemed to be one step away from catastrophe … the kind that claimed him and everyone around him. Pearl-Ear looked for the best in everyone she encountered, but she feared Toshi’s ambition and fecklessness would destroy him long before he matured enough to rise above them.
Sharp-Ear clapped his hands. “Again,” he said. “One more pass and we’ll call it a day.” Michiko nodded and spurred her horse back up the lane as Riko and a young kitsune replaced the wooden targets.
Michiko reached the starting point, wheeled her horse into place, and waited for Sharp-Ear’s signal. It never came.
Instead, a long-haired figure dressed in black emerged from the edge of the woods bordering the horse run. He had bright green eyes and one arm raised, waving to catch the princess’ attention. His other arm was extended back into the cedar shadows behind him, but the kitsune’s eyes were sharp enough to see what lay beyond. The man’s hand was resting atop a large stone disk he had propped against a tree.
Pearl-Ear shot to her feet, but cries of alarm were already echoing through the trees. The soldiers who guarded Michiko closed ranks around her an instant after the visitor appeared. Sharp-Ear sprang from atop the fallen log and nocked an arrow into his bow as he somersaulted to the ground. He trained the bolt on the intruder as his feet dug into the turf.
“Wait,” Pearl-Ear called, for she had recognized both the man and his burden. Her brother and the other warriors did not lower their weapons as they advanced, and Pearl-Ear wondered if that was because they didn’t recognize Toshi and the Taken One or if it was because they did.
The ochimusha held both empty hands up to show he was unarmed. Pearl-Ear noted that he still had his jitte strapped to his hip but both swords were gone. She would have felt more confident if he’d had the blades and lost the tool he used to inscribe kanji-Toshi’s symbol-magic was as dangerous and unpredictable as the fellow himself.
“Stand easy.” Toshi quickly scanned the approaching warriors. Pearl-Ear saw a flicker of recognition when the kanji mage saw Sharp-Ear, but Toshi’s face visibly brightened when he saw her atop her stump.
“Lady,” he called, waving to Pearl-Ear, “I need your help.”
Toshi lowered one arm and gestured at the Taken One, its edge barely peeking past the trunk of the tree. “And if you don’t want to help me, help yourselves. Look. See what has become of Konda’s prize.”
Pearl-Ear focused her keen eyes on the stone disk. She watched it for a moment, then gasped when she saw part of the etched serpent move along the disk’s edge.
release me
Toshi stayed in his awkward position, grandly presenting the Taken One with one hand and surrendering with the other. “See?” he said.
“Do as he says. Stand down.” Michiko’s voice rang out from the center of the phalanx of human soldiers and kitsune samurai.
The warriors parted, and Michiko cantered forward on her horse. “That man,” she pointed to Toshi, “works for me. I sent for him. And that item,” she nodded at the stone disk, “is my responsibility. Sensei.” She turned toward Pearl-Ear. “May we present ourselves to the elders for an audience?”
Pearl-Ear nodded. “As you wish, Princess. Wait here and I will convene the council.” Before she turned, Pearl-Ear made sure to make eye contact with her brother. Kitsune were subtle creatures and could read a person’s body language as easily as a schoolboy’s primer. She and Sharp-Ear had also been siblings for almost one hundred years and so could speak volumes with the slightest nod or facial tic.