The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

One Ear, with all of a spirit’s capacity for rapid healing, recovered very nicely under Floridiana’s care. In fact, she even came out the other end healthier than she’d been. The mage strengthened the cartilage in one of the wolf’s ears that had caused it to droop when she was a pup and given her the name. One Ear did tend to give spiders, even mortal spiders I could have stepped on and squashed, a wide berth from then on, though. No matter how much we (well, I) teased her, she refused to get her nose close to any more spider webs.

I supposed it wasn’t a bad instinct to have per se, even if it were pretty comical to watch a giant wolf spirit skitter backwards from a teeny tiny spider in its delicate lacy web.

We spent another moon ranging through the Wilds, pacifying all the demon tribes we encountered. At the end of the fishing season, we headed back towards Flying Fish Village with an entourage of “honored guests” that was the same size as the village population.

Out of earshot of our hostages, Floridiana whispered to me, “There’s no way the villagers have space to house so many extra people. Where are we going to put them?”

I was just going to have them build more of those wall-less huts. I think they call them pavilions.

The hostages were all demons. Housing them outdoors all year round was no different from their current lifestyle. Although – Pallus had complained about the lowlands being too hot for thick-furred cats accustomed to mountain climes. Was that going to be an issue here? It would be highly inconvenient if any of the hostages died under our care….

Nah. Pallus and his manuls had survived just fine in Goldhill, hadn’t they? There was no need to coddle this pack of demons.

Floridiana was still talking. I returned my attention to her in time to hear her say, “But where will we build all those extra pavilions? It’s not like there’s a lot of flat, cleared land between the foothills and the sea.”

Then clear some.

The solution was so obvious that I didn’t understand why she was pestering me. Wasn’t she supposed to be our logistics expert?

I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Stripey chimed in. They use those screw pines for everything from weaving writing mats to building racks for drying fish. I’m not sure we should just cut them all down.

I threw up my wings in frustration. Then tell them what we need – space to house all these hostages – I mean guests, and let them figure it out! They’ll concoct a solution that works for them and feel respected that we let them do it, and we won’t have to think about it anymore. Win-win all around!

A brief silence as Floridiana and Stripey digested the full brilliance of my solution.

“She’s not wrong...,” Floridiana said slowly.

Hey!

Stripey ignored me. No, she isn’t. This could actually be the best way to solve the problem....

Of course it is! I came up with it, didn’t I?

For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why Stripey arched his wings at Dusty and remarked, If I were you, I’d stop teasing her about addressing you as “Your Highness.” I don’t think anyone’s going to survive if she fulfills that condition of hers.

Dusty snorted. “What condition? You mean taking over Heaven? As if she could.”

I whacked him with my wing. He didn’t even have the decency to pretend that it hurt.

And so our triumphal procession returned to Flying Fish Village right in time to participate in the festival that marked the end of the fishing season. As I had predicted, the villagers forgot their worries about feeding a doubled population once we explained the general pacification and proved it by dispatching Steelfang into the mountains to fetch extra mortal boars to serve at the feast. Then the elders decreed that they would celebrate not only the harvest, but also peace throughout the land. And with that, we had their support for the reunification of Serica.

The foxling, unfortunately, was not the gracious empress we needed for the New Serican Empire. As she viewed the traditional, open-air dances from her litter, she kept up a litany of complaints about the venue (the clear space between the houses and beach).

“It’s too hot. Why are we outdoors?” And: “Why aren’t we sitting in order of rank? Why don’t they have a hierarchy?” And: “The wind is so salty. It’s going to ruin my fur.”

The fur on her tails was already irreparably crushed from all the time she insisted on sitting on top of them in her attempt to imitate me, but I opted not to mention that.

Think how grand you look, I flattered her. Imagine the picture you make: an empress of Serica among her subjects, sharing in their celebration of a good harvest. Generations will adore you for it.

She pouted but allowed her rosefinch handmaidens to arrange her silks and tails on her litter, and I had to admit that once she forgot herself and started clapping in time to the music, she did make a pretty sight. It was just a shame she didn’t have a little more brain to back up those regular facial features and un-freckled skin, but, well, that was what the rest of us were for, wasn’t it?

The young men of the village took their places for a warrior dance, reenacting the great battle they had waged against the flying fish spirits. Clad only in thongs, they showed off impressive squats, jumps, and spins.

“They’re really good, aren’t they?” Bobo asked. Her head and neck bobbed along with their movements. “They’re ssso ssstrong!”

“Not bad. Not bad at all,” agreed One Ear, and she heaved an admiring sigh.

Floridiana didn’t chime in, but that was because she was too busy sketching the dance moves.

Den, on the other hand, looked between us and the foxling and her handmaidens in clear astonishment. “Is that all it takes to impress you?”

Floridiana elbowed him without taking her eyes off the dancers for a second.

Jealous, are we? I teased the dragon.

That actually shocked Den into a coughing fit, and believe me, you haven’t seen a real coughing fit until you’ve seen a dragon heaving his entire, extremely long body trying to hack saliva out of his entire, extremely long windpipe. I took that to mean I’d struck a chord.

Transferring her brush into her other hand, Floridiana pounded the closest spot she could reach on his back. I doubted it helped much, but he did eventually stop coughing.

“Jealous?” he demanded when he could speak again. “Why would I be jealous of them?”

Oh, I don’t know, maybe because they’re very fit? And very good at dancing? I asked sarcastically.

“I can dance!” snapped the host of many a rowdy party in Caltrop Pond.

“Uh-huh!” Bobo backed him up loyally. “You can! You’re very good at dancccing.” Before he could preen, though, she dashed his mood by adding, “But it’s a very different danccce ssstyle from this one. This one is more – more – uh....”

One of the dancers, Cornelius, executed a particularly dramatic leap and twirl and winked at us as he landed. All females present collectively lost our trains of thought.

One Ear sighed. Floridiana dropped her brush. It rolled until it bumped into Bobo’s coils, but the snake didn’t notice.

“I can’t believe this,” Den muttered. “I can’t believe this. You think that – that’s enough to – ” He craned his head and looked up and down his gleaming chest plates. “Change!”

With a pop, the dragon vanished. In his place stood a handsome young man clad in a silk robe the colors of his scales.

“Den!” exclaimed Floridiana. “When did you learn how to do that? Why didn’t you tell me you could do that? Is it harder or easier than changing your size when you’re in dragon form?”

Ignoring her stream of questions, Den scanned his front once more and shook his head at himself. “Change!”

With another pop, the robe disappeared, leaving only a thong like the one the dancers wore.

I fell out of the air. Literally.

Bobo didn’t catch me, so I hit the ground.

Ow! Owww....

“Den!” cried Floridiana. “You – I – what – ?”

With a smirk, human-Den sprang through the air to land in the center of the dancers. After a stunned moment, they made room for him, and he joined in their dance. This time, all eyes were on Den.

I twitched my wings and moaned.

None of my friends rushed to pick me up and check if I’d broken any bones.

I moaned louder.

A large wingtip prodded me in the side. You alive there? asked Stripey’s unsympathetic voice.

Ohhh, I think I cracked my ribs.

Nah, sparrows aren’t that fragile. Come on, up you get.

The wingtip rolled me onto my feet. I collected my claws under me and stood shakily. Something twinged with pain, but he was right. My ribs were intact.

Did you know he could do that? I asked Stripey.

Not specifically, but he is a dragon. Most older spirits can take human form. You of all people should know that.

Well, yes, given that I’d once dazzled an emperor with mine. Yeah, but this is Den. He’s so – so –

So what?

So...silly.

What, and silly people can’t change?

No, no, of course they can. It’s just that it’s hard to picture him as something more than the party animal of Caltrop Pond.

At that, Stripey guffawed. Oh, I’m not denying that. I’ve known him much longer than you, remember? Gotta say, I like the new him.

“Me too,” Floridiana put in. Her sketchbook was now full of sketches of human-Den dancing.

Come to think of it, her artistic skills had improved since I met her too. It almost made me feel a little melancholy. Everyone was changing around me. Who or what were they going to turn into? I couldn’t predict it, and I didn’t like that.

When the warrior dance came to its final leap and bow, Floridiana, Bobo, One Ear, the foxling, the rosefinches – basically all of the women present heaved a collective sigh. I could see the foxling start to open her mouth, and I zipped over before she could demand an encore. As I flew, something in my side flared in pain. Ow. Maybe I had cracked a rib after all.

An empress must be gracious, I whispered in her ear. An empress expresses her appreciation for a beautiful performance with dignity and elegance.

The quick intake of breath suggested that the sounds that had been about to pass her lips would not have been dignified or elegant in the slightest. “Write that down,” she hissed at one of the rosefinches. Then she curved her lips into a sweet, pretty smile, lifted her hands, and clapped daintily. “A beautiful performance! We are greatly pleased by this display of talent.”

Led by human-Den, the men all lined up and bowed to her. “Your Imperial Majesty is too kind,” Den replied on their behalf, in the same confident, gracious tone that the foxling had affected.

Then the crowd swarmed the dancers to congratulate them, and the performers who had so entranced us morphed back into happy fishermen celebrating the end of a successful season with their families and friends.

Den strutted back, bare human chest thrown out. “How was that?”

“It was amazing!” Bobo told him. “You were amazing! It makes me almossst want to try changing into human form too!”

I jerked so hard that my side flared in pain again. Bobo? In human form? But she was a bubbly, bright green and yellow snake! I couldn’t imagine her as anything else!

I must have made some sort of noise, because human-Den glanced over and flashed a grin, baring square human teeth that didn’t suit him at all. “I think you’d break Rosie if you did.”

What? Break me? Indignation puffed up all my feathers. She would not. Bobo, you should take whatever form you think fits you best.

“Don’t worry! I know! I like being a sssnake!”

“How about you?” Floridiana lifted her eyes from her sketchbook at last. They strayed to Den’s bare chest before she wrenched them up to point them at his face. “Do you prefer dragon or human form?”

To my absolute shock, he leaned forward – not far, but definitely into her personal space – and the mischief in his grin took on a different quality. “What would you prefer, Flori?”

She actually blushed. “Oh – I – well – same answer as Bobo. I mean, Piri! Uh, sorry, I meant Rosie.”

Pip, I corrected her. I’m going by Pip these days.

“Whatever. You have too many names. How do you expect anyone to keep track?”

Says the mage whose horse keeps adding titles, murmured Stripey.

Bobo, One Ear, and I snorted as Floridiana scrabbled for the shreds of her composure. “Regardless! What I was trying to say was, you should take whatever form suits you best. Whether it’s dragon or human!”

To her obvious relief, Den bounced out of her personal space and, with a pop, transformed back into a dragon. “I know! Anyway! What’s next? Another dance?” he asked over the disappointed sighs that filled the evening air.

That was when a trembling voice spoke up. “Um, if it’s all right...with everyone, I mean, I was thinking I should, um, lead a prayer of thanksgiving…to the Divine Intercessor?”