Three little foxes, p.1
Three Little Foxes, page 1
THREE LITTLE FOXES
Richard Parks
With the sun now set and a magnificent full moon, glittering like winter frost, on the rise, the ghosts stirred in Lord Noritomo’s garden.
“Lord Yamada, is it not exactly as I have said?”
I kept my eyes on the ghosts. “It is exactly as you have said, Noritomo-sama. What you have not said is why it’s a problem. Could you enlighten me?
The question took Lord Noritomo off guard. Of course I understood why, in general, it was an undesirable thing to have a haunted garden, but if there was a specific reason why he didn’t want them there, that might make their reasons for being present more evident. The facts were already quite clear—at night, two ghosts, by appearance both female, entered through the north gate of Noritomo’s mansion and proceeded through the estate to the central garden. There they were joined by yet another ghost, similar in form and dress to the first two. No one had yet ascertained the origin of the third, though she did usually appear between two outbuildings on the western side of the compound. There in the garden, the first two ghosts would play a game of Go while the latecomer watched. They did not speak, but the click of the stones on the phantom board could be clearly heard. It was this sound, Noritomo informed me, that had alerted his servants to their presence in the first place.
“Lord Yamada, are you joking?” Noritomo said. “I was planning a moon-viewing party for this very night. The Crown Prince himself was planning to attend! It was humiliating, but I had no choice but to cancel. How can I bring noble guests to a garden full of ghosts? And what if this goes on? Servants talk, as you well know. I’ll get a reputation for being unlucky.”
I was forced to admit that he had a reasonable concern. For a courtier like Noritomo, reputation was everything. Whatever effects the ghosts did or did not intend, their very presence was, to say the least, indelicate. Yet there was, as always, more to the matter, but now I did not think I would learn what that something might be from Lord Noritomo himself.
“Forgive me,” I said, “but I must ask this—can you think of any reason these ghosts would have to wish you ill? Do you recognize any of them?”
For my own part I did not, nor did I expect to do so. Except for the fact that onibi hovered near them like phantom lanterns and their figures were somewhat translucent, they could have been any three young women of the nobility. Their kimonos were appropriate to the season and they wore their hair long, tied with ribbons to hang straight down their backs. For spirits, they made a rather fetching and elegant scene.
Noritomo gave me a sharp glance, but he consented to take a closer look. “They appear to be pretty young women,” he said finally, “and it’s true that I do have an interest in pretty young women. But I swear to you I have never seen any of them before, alive or otherwise. I know of no grudge they could possibly have against me.”
“Which might explain their lack of interest in anything beyond the garden.” I detected nothing furtive in Noritomo’s manner. If he was lying, he was a very good liar, even by the standards of a courtier.
“Lord Yamada, I have ghosts in my garden! Can you help me or not?”
I considered the matter in light of what my observations had told me. “I think so. If all else fails, the ghosts can be exorcised. I have a friend skilled in these matters, and I will summon him. Yet it won’t be easy—there’s a complication.”
“Which is?”
“These are not human ghosts, Noritomo-sama. Unless I’m badly mistaken—and I am not—they are fox spirits.”
Noritomo gasped. “Lord Buddha protect me!”
“The Buddha is merciful. But while we’re waiting, I think I need to speak to your servants. The more I understand, the more chance I can render the Buddha some assistance on your behalf.”
Lord Noritomo’s mansion was a typical shingon style compound, with one central building housing the main hall and two separate wings joined to the central structure by covered walkways. These were left open now, it being early summer, but could be completely enclosed in winter. Lord Noritomo’s principal wife had passed away five years earlier, and he had yet to remarry. Her old apartments in the west wing were now occupied by Noritomo’s two young sons and their nurse, a stout woman of middle years named Mai. Apartments in the east wing not reserved for Lord Noritomo himself were assigned to his Master of the Wardrobe, an older man named Junko, and his daughter, Mariko. The balance of Noritomo’s personal attendants resided in several rooms in the east wing near their master, where they were always on call.
The following afternoon, Lord Noritomo informed me that he had business elsewhere in the Capital which would occupy him for some days, and I took the opportunity, with his permission, of examining the buildings and grounds and asking questions of his staff and servants. The nurse, Mai, seemed determined to speak whether I asked or not.
“It was little Toshi who spotted them first,” she said, almost before I could ask the question. I found her in the garden, keeping a close eye on the boys as they looked for frogs in the koi pond. Toshi was the elder, about eight years old. The youngest, Hiroi, was perhaps six.
“Is that so?” I asked the boy, and he looked up at me and nodded, looking very serious.
“I saw the pretty ladies,” he said.
“You were out of bed, weren’t you?” Mai asked.
He nodded. “I had to pee. When I went outside, I saw them in the garden. I was going to go talk to them, but Mai-san found me.”
“Frightened me half out of my wits!” she said. “What if you’d gone out there and they’d taken you away? The Master would have cut off poor Mai’s head.”
“They didn’t seem bad,” Toshi said, looking doubtful.
“They might not be so, but foxes don’t think the way humans do,” I said. “Ghost foxes, especially so. And they love to play tricks on humans. The wise man knows when to be careful.”
“You mind what Yamada-sama is telling you,” Mai said.
“Did you see them any other time, Mai-san?” I asked.
“Just that once, but now that I know they are out there, I can always tell. I hear the stones. Then one of them plays a flute, and they leave.”
I frowned. Lord Noritomo hadn’t mentioned a flute. “Which one plays? The one watching the game?”
“I don’t know. I never go out to see. The sound of the flute is faint but I can hear it plainly.”
“But the spirits never come any closer to the house?”
“No, and praise the gods for that. I would die of fright, I am sure,” Mai said.
“I’ll try not to let it come to that,” I said. “Do you know if Junko-san is around? I need to speak to him.”
“I believe he is on an errand for the Master. He should return soon.”
When Mai took her charges back into the mansion I lingered in the garden. Beyond the koi pond there was a stone lantern and grassy spot where the garden’s creator had placed a large flat stone, perfect for a small gathering of friends to place a Go board or a wine tray. There were no marks on the ground to indicate anyone had been there in some time, which was no more or less than I expected to see.
I considered the matter. I knew I would have to summon the priest Kenji; I had an obligation to my patron to protect his interests, and one way or another the ghosts would have to leave. Yet there was simply too much about the situation that struck me as strange, to say the least. Why would fox spirits come to a place with no—so far as I could ascertain—special lure or meaning for them, simply to play a game of Go? There were legends, of course, of farmers and such who were lured to spy on fox spirits at play, only to realize too late that the game, far from taking an hour or two, had taken hundreds of years and time had passed around them unnoticed. I knew this was nonsense, but that still left the question of why they were here, if not for mischief.
Two foxes enter by the northern gate. One does not.
The northern gate, whether for a compound or a city, was called the Demon’s Gate, because it was considered most vulnerable to entry by evil spirits. Evil or no, it made sense that the fox spirits would enter from that direction.
So where is the third fox spirit coming from?
Or, more to the point, what was different about her? She had appeared to be dressed the same as the first two ghosts. Other than the direction of her arrival and the fact that she arrived separately, she could have been one more seed in a pod with the other two. Perhaps it didn’t matter. I knew that it was possible that her apparent differences didn’t matter, but I didn’t believe it. I took note of the sun’s descent, sought out one of Lord Noritomo’s couriers, and sent a message to . After that I settled myself on the veranda to wait.
Kenji arrived just before sundown and was escorted to me by Mai-san, who immediately bowed and excused herself. Kenji yawned and scratched himself before sitting down near to me on the veranda. He looked, as he often did, a little worse for wear, though his head was freshly shaven, and judging from his relative lack of aroma, he had bathed recently.
“I hope my message didn’t interrupt anything,” I said.
He grunted. “Frankly, I welcomed the interruption. Sometimes a good time can be too good and too much. So. We have ghosts to deal with, yes?”
For a priest of the Eightfold Path, Kenji knew quite a bit about good times and overindulgence, so I accepted his judgment without inquiring any further.
“Yes. The ghosts will be arriving soon, if past behavior is any indication. I want you to watch with me.”
“W
Whatever Kenji’s failings as a priest or a person, one could never doubt his faith, or rather his absolute certainty that he understood the way the world worked, in both its physical and spiritual aspects. While it was true that he expected to be well paid for an exorcism, that was not the heart of the matter. To Kenji, a ghost was a lost soul, and a fox spirit doubly so. Exorcising a spirit from the earthly plane so that it could return to the wheel of death and rebirth and continue its journey toward transcendence was an act of kindness, in his view. I was never so sure about that, or indeed much of anything else. I sometimes envied Kenji his certainties, since I had so few.
“Kenji-san, understanding is a blessing. You already have yours. I’m still searching for mine, and at the moment I’m more interested in why the spirits are here rather than where they will go. Exorcism will remain an option but not my first one.”
Kenji just shrugged. “As you wish. So. Aside from ghosts, what am I looking for?”
“Anything—about the ghosts themselves, I mean—that doesn’t make sense to you.”
We didn’t have to wait very long. As soon as the sun was well down and a glorious near-full moon was on the rise, the two fox spirits appeared from the direction of the north gate. They moved with stately grace to the flat rock and seated themselves. They didn’t set up the Go board, it was suddenly just there, and they began to play. The click of the stones on the board was clearly audible.
“They’re being fairly loud,” Kenji said. “I mean, one can make a great deal of noise playing Go. But one doesn’t have to.”
“So you’re saying that they want to be heard,” I said.
“Lord Yamada, as you well know, fox spirits, as with a living fox, are secretive creatures. Calling attention to themselves, unless they’re up to mischief, seems a bit odd.”
“And yet they’ve repeated their game here for weeks without, so far as I can tell, showing any interest in working harm to the people living here.”
“You mentioned three. I see only two.”
“It shouldn’t be long now.”
Nor was it. The third fox spirit appeared, walking between two of the outbuildings as it took a straight path to the game. In so doing, it passed relatively close to the veranda where Kenji and I sat, and I got a closer look than I had when Lord Noritomo and I had watched them from the bottom of the garden. I waited until the third spirit had joined the game as spectator.
“I need a closer look.” I stepped down from the veranda; Kenji followed close behind.
Kenji’s voice was a harsh whisper. “What if they see you?”
“Do you really think they don’t know we’re here?” I asked.
Kenji let out a breath. “It did seem unlikely.”
“I don’t expect them to bolt or attack unless we get too close for their comfort. It needn’t come to that. Yet.”
I advanced only as far as the pond, keeping it between me and the spirits. Looking across, what I had at first suspected was quite obvious, that their similarities went much farther than merely the way they were dressed. “They’re sisters,” I said.
Kenji frowned. “Lord Yamada, a fox is a shapeshifter, and so is a fox spirit. They can appear to be anything they want.”
“True, but when a fox is simply appearing to be human without impersonating a particular human, they have a preferred form that they take, and I’ve known that to be true since my first meeting with one. So why would these fox spirits appear to be sisters when no one here recognizes those sisters?”
“With all respect, we don’t yet know for certain what they are up to.”
“Also true. If their appearance is a subterfuge, I’m almost eager for the trick to be played, just to see the reasons behind this particular manifestation.”
“I would not be so keen,” Kenji said. “You may have rid yourself of your demon of drink, but your demon of curiosity has not lost a bit of its influence.”
It was true that my demon of drink, as Kenji had phrased it, was weakened and diminished, but I wasn’t convinced that I’d rid myself of it. I knew the time was coming when I would have to test myself against it once again. As for my “demon of curiosity,” it had kept me in this impermanent world at times when I couldn’t think of any other reason to continue, so I was inclined to grant it all the leeway it required. I was about to say as much when ghostly music interrupted me.
“Do you hear that?”
The sound was faint, but distinctive. After a moment, Kenji nodded. “A bamboo flute. Being played very softly.”
That alone was a curious thing. The music of the flute tended to have many sharp notes and piercing whistles. Yet this was so faint as to be difficult to hear and I couldn’t make out the precise tune, even though I did not believe that whoever was playing the flute was not very far away. I could see that Mai had been mistaken—none of the fox spirits was playing the instrument. The musician was nowhere in sight.
“The hour is late,” Kenji said. “Perhaps the person does not wish to disturb the house.”
“Or they only want to be heard by someone with keen hearing indeed. Look.”
It was clear that all three of the fox spirits heard the music. They interrupted their game to look toward the mansion—something they had not done at any other point that evening. One fox spirit then left the group. It was the latecomer, the spectator. She glided back toward the outbuildings and vanished from sight. In a moment or two, the Go board had disappeared, and the remaining fox spirits gracefully withdrew toward the north gate and faded from sight.
“Let’s go,” I said.
We quickly skirted the pond and followed in the direction the spectator fox spirit had gone. I didn’t really expect to catch up to her, but there had to be some significance to the direction, and unless she picked up her pace, there was at least a chance that I could see her go… where? It was strange that she did not arrive or depart with the others. The fox spirits, as I had already realized, were very similar to each other, and so I chose to concentrate on how they were different, and this one particular spirit was the most different of all.
We rounded the corner of the mansion and were heading toward the outbuildings when a faint sound caught my attention. It was the sound of a shoji screen being closed. I glanced back toward the mansion, but there were several doors there leading off the veranda, and there was no way to tell which one of them had just closed. We no longer heard any music.
“Odd….” Kenji said.
“What is?” I asked, picking up the pace to make up for my hesitation, but Kenji had already stopped.
“She’s gone.”
“That’s—”
I’d started to say “impossible,” but of course it wasn’t. A fox spirit could certainly vanish from sight if its need was great, but the others had seen no need to disappear before they reached the gate, even though they knew they were being watched. Yet, as I looked beyond the last outbuilding toward the nearly bowshot-length expanse of grassy earth that separated the last storehouse from the fence, I saw nothing.
Now Kenji and I both scratched our heads, though in his case it was probably because of a recent case of lice. “Where did she go?” I asked.
Kenji closed his eyes and held up a hand for silence. I kept still as he muttered under his breath; every now and then I could make out a word or two of a sutra. After a while, he fell silent and opened his eyes again.
“Well?” I asked.
“Faint… but certain. She didn’t go anywhere, Lord Yamada. She’s still here.
I met Kenji at the mansion late the next afternoon. By now I realized that I needed to be a bit more thorough in my inquiries. Lord Noritomo had not yet returned, but as he had instructed, a servant girl named Asako met us in the central chamber. She appeared to be about eight years old and was a somber child, apparently taking her duties as our escort very seriously. As we followed her into the east wing of the mansion, I asked the first question I wanted answered, “Asako-chan, does anyone here play the bamboo flute?”
Her countenance brightened just a little. “Oh, yes, Yamada-sama. We have several very accomplished flute players. The Master, for one.”
I was not surprised. Noritomo was a courtier after all, and no courtier was considered accomplished without being able to play at least one musical instrument with passable skill. According to Asako, Noritomo was better than just “passable.”
