“Do you bear malice to the Kitsune clan?”
Yukiko pulled up her sleeve, showed the beautiful fox tattoo on her right arm. “Your Daimyo is not my Daimyo, Ginjiro-sama. But I remember where I came from.”
Ginjiro nodded. “Then enter, and be welcome at Five Flowers Palace, the beating heart of Kitsune-jō. My noble Lord, Kitsune Isamu, pledges you will be safe within these walls.”
He covered his fist and bowed again, deeper this time.
DO YOU TRUST HIM?
Yukiko looked back toward the dark fortress walls, listening to the swell of people gathered outside. Mouths open and roaring. Fists in the air.
I think they’d be risking a riot if anything happened to me.
THAT WILL BE POOR SOLACE FOR SOME, SISTER.
We flew a long way just to insult the Daimyo’s hospitality.
OH, YES. RAIJIN FORBID YOU INSULT ANYBODY. FAR MORE SENSIBLE TO RISK YOUR OWN BRUTAL MURDER INSTEAD.
Hana will be there. I’ll stay in the Kenning. You’ll know everything I do.
Buruu bristled, but said no more. She slipped off his back, felt the familiar pang as they parted. It was like stepping away from firelight and out into the dark, leaving everything warm and good behind. She walked toward the Kitsune general, Hana beside her. The girl looked distinctly out of her depth, plucking at the worn hem of her sleeve. Yukiko squeezed her hand.
Ginjiro’s eyes were on the thunder tigers, as wide as a child’s. Yukiko waited until he remembered himself, and coughing once, the general set his shoulders square.
“Follow me, please.”
The wall of soldiers parted to allow them through. Yukiko smiled at Buruu and Kaiah, then stepped under the broad, rain-bleached gables of Five Flowers Palace. Ginjiro led them through a massive entrance hall into a wide courtyard. Despite its formidable shell, the heart of Kitsune-jō was as beautiful as anything in the Shōgun’s palace. It was odd to find such opulence inside fortress walls—like finding a beautiful courtesan inside an ancient suit of armor.
Ginjiro led Yukiko through towering iron-shod doors, down a hallway decorated with stunning tapestries depicting Shima’s creation. Yukiko admired them as they passed—each stood twelve feet high and twenty feet wide, and must have taken a dozen artisans a year to make.
The first weaving showed Lord Izanagi and Lady Izanami, side by side as Izanagi stirred the oceans of creation with his spear. The following tapestry depicted the Goddess giving birth to the seven islands, face twisted in pain, sky filled with burning light. Yukiko averted her eyes and hurried past. Next came Lady Izanami’s funeral, her life lost in childbirth. The following four tapestries showed the Maker God’s failed quest to reclaim her from the underworld. The final tapestry showed Izanami on her bone mountain, surrounded by her demon children. The oni came in all shapes and sizes: tentacled monstrosities and snaggletoothed hulks and tall, muscle-bound demons with midnight blue skin. Lady Izanami herself was more terrifying than any of them, all corpse-pale skin and bottomless eyes. Mother of Darkness, they called her. She who would give voice to the song that slew the world.
Endsinger.
A small bowl of rice was set before this final tapestry to appease her hunger.
Yukiko remembered Daichi in the Kagé village, telling the story of Lady Izanami’s fall, surrounded by smiling children. Sorrow gripped her so tight she couldn’t breathe.
“Are you all right?” Hana asked.
“I’m fine.” Yukiko squeezed the girl’s hand. “It’s nothing.”
“Well, good. Because I’m about to mess my unmentionables…”
Their footsteps rang out on the nightingale floors as they approached the Daimyo’s wing, boards chirping in a dozen discordant notes. Hana was pale as old bones as she ran her fingers through her messy bob, throwing another mournful glance at her shabby clothes.
Ginjiro stopped before another towering set of double doors, studded with fat iron bolts. He knocked three times, iron against iron. After a series of somber clunks, the doors split apart on rumbling hinges. The general stepped inside, calling in a deep voice.
“This humble servant begs pardon to present the noble Arashi-no-odoriko, Kitsune Yukiko and her comrade to his honored Lord.”
A short man in black robes and a tasseled hat almost as tall as he was scuttled forth.
“Step forth and kneel before the Fivefold Throne, seat of Okimoto, first Daimyo of the Kitsune zaibatsu, and his beloved descendent, Kitsune Isamu, immortal Lord of Foxes!”