“If we can hire a ferryman,” Choryu smiled, “we won’t need to keep our presence a secret. I would even send word to the headmaster that Princess Michiko has arrived.”

  “I would prefer to arrive unannounced,” Michiko said.

  “Excuse me, Princess. I only meant—”

  “No need to explain,” Michiko cut in. “Let’s just keep going and see how far we go.”

  “Of course. Riko?”

  “Agreed. But when it gets dark, I want you to help me weave a concealment spell so we can spread out our bedrolls and get some sleep. I don’t fancy someone stumbling across us in the middle of the night.”

  The resumed riding in silence. Michiko took in the view of the forest to the east, straining to memorize every leaf. The rich browns and deep greens of the trees were such a striking contrast to the dull, dusty gloom that hung over her father’s tower. Kamigawa was so colorful, and she had seen so little of it.

  On the west sat the vast plains of Towabara, once fertile but now dry and lifeless due to three years of drought and two decades of war. Far in the distance, she could see the vast, rolling dust clouds that scoured the flatlands. She had heard soldiers tell of giving their swords a mirror shine just by leaving them out to be polished by the wind-driven grit.

  As she mused, Michiko followed the dust storm’s movement. It rolled over the plains like a cloud, making its way steadily west.

  A strong breeze kicked up, rushing from the plains toward the forest, and Michiko squinted against it. Choryu’s horse coughed, and Riko pulled her hood over her face.

  “It’s just a squall,” Choryu called, raising his voice to be heard. “It will pass.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Riko said from under her hood. “I may ask you to conjure me a jug of water when it does.”

  “It’s coming toward us,” Michiko said.

  “What?”

  With cold dread in her throat, Michiko pointed at the distant dust cloud. “When the wind changed, the storm changed too. It’s heading right for us.”

  Riko spurred her horse and came up beside Michiko. “Are you sure?”

  “See for yourself. It’s picking up speed.”

  “She’s right,” Choryu said. He patted his nervous mount, reassuring the beast. “It’s bearing down on this spot.”

  “I don’t like this,” Riko said.

  Choryu laughed. “It’s just a storm, I keep telling you.”

  “It’s a storm that changed direction.”

  “Changed direction with the wind.”

  “The wind felt natural. That storm feels anything but.” She turned to Michiko. “The kami attacks have been spreading, haven’t they?”

  The princess nodded.

  “And there was one in the tower recently, wasn’t there?”

  “Yes,” Michiko said. She grabbed her friend by the arm. “Can you and Choryu shield us?”

  The student wizards looked at each other, their expressions dismal.

  “No,” Riko said.

  Choryu looked nervous for the first time since they’d cleared the tower gates. “I could conjure a flash flood to take us away from here,” he offered.

  “That’s more likely to kill us as the dust storm,” Riko snapped. “Not to mention the horses. We’re better off taking cover in the trees. Once the storm passes, we can return to the trail.”

  The rolling dust cloud was now a few hundred yards away. It would reach them in a matter of minutes.

  “Princess?” Choryu spoke gingerly. “I would not recommend going into the trees. There are—”

  “Hold.” Michiko held up a finger, her eyes still fixed on the storm. The student wizards followed her gaze.

  Together, they watched as the dust cloud approached a large, lone tree. It was an old cedar, as thick as a person’s waist, from a time long ago when the forest reached farther into the plains. As the storm cloud approached, the wind tore each of the cedar’s leaves away and tossed them into the churning cloud of dust and debris. Then the cloud engulfed the tree, and they heard a terrifyingly loud crack as fragments of the ancient cedar were hurled back into the maelstrom.

  “Into the forest,” Michiko said. She prodded her horse, which sprang forward.

  “Michiko!”

  “Princess, wait!” Riko and Choryu followed, bringing their horses into a gallop and falling in behind Michiko.

  The princess called out as she rode. “Deep as we can get before the winds catch us! One tree couldn’t stop it, but perhaps the entire forest can.” Free from the need to stand and take aim, the princess rode like the expert she was, putting even more distance between her and her friends.

  Michiko broke through the tree line, weaving her steed in between the ancient cedars. There was no trail to follow, but she was covering ground quickly, charging deeper into the Jukai. Riko and Choryu were far behind, but she could hear them yelling after her.

  Michiko ignored their cries and spurred her horse on. She could hear the roar of the wind and felt the first stinging specks of dust through her academy robes.

  They were well into the forest when the dust storm caught them. Wind and grit filled Michiko’s ears, blinded her eyes, and almost lifted her from her saddle. She heard Riko calling for her to wait, and Choryu simply shouting her name.

  She pulled up on the reins, but the horse refused to slow down. Foam flew from its lips into Michiko’s face as the fear-maddened steed ran for its life.

  They had been so careful, she thought. They had prepared for sentries and bandits, but now they were in real danger from one of the most common weather phenomena in all Towabara.

  The wind’s fury seemed to double, and Michiko lost sight of anything but the inside of her eyelids. Dust coated her throat and nostrils. She struggled to breathe. The horse beneath her was charging at full gallop, and it was all she could do to hang on.

  The horse whinnied in terror and fell away beneath her. The reins were torn from her hands and Michiko could feel herself still sailing forward, tumbling gently as she soared. With her eyes still clogged with dust and tears, she could only wait for the inevitable impact and hope that she survived it. She was amazed she had traveled this long without hitting a tree.

  The roar of the wind suddenly ceased, and Michiko felt as if she were floating, carried along by tender hands. She no longer felt the wind on her flesh, but she still could not open her eyes. If Riko and Choryu still called her name, she could not hear it, nor could she feel sting of the wind-driven grit.

  Uncertain if she were conscious or dreaming, Michiko felt herself slipping away, lost in a void of quiet darkness.

  * * * * *

  She awoke to the sound of game birds calling to each other.

  Michiko started and sat upright, squinting against the slanted beams of sunlight that pierced the forest canopy. It has been dusk when the storm hit, but now it seemed like midday. How many sunrises had she missed while she was asleep?

  Nearby, a horse whinnied. She spied her mount, who was absently munching on a patch of tall grass.

  She could scarcely believe her luck. This animal had been in headlong flight when Michiko lost consciousness. Either her father’s stables produced exceptionally clever animals, or the kami that protected Towabara were watching over her.

  She rose on unsteady legs and made her way to the horse. It snorted and shook its head as she took up the reins.

  Michiko paused to remember the horse’s name, then whispered, “Thank you, Kaze-san.”

  Kaze snorted again and offered her the top of his head. Michiko obligingly scratched between his ears.

  As she patted her mount, Michiko scanned the forest for any sign of Riko or Choryu. She cupped her hands and called as loudly as she could, but she got no response. She felt cold, a lonely ache in her stomach, but Michiko tried to buoy her own spirits. She had survived the storm, somehow, so they must have as well. She tried not to think of Riko lying wounded and alone, calling Michiko’s name. She tried not to think of Choryu, scouring the endless woods all the way back to the tower.

  The real question was what to do next. She did not recognize where she was, and she had no idea how she had gotten there. She knew they had been traveling northeast, but after her long nap she wasn’t sure where she was in relation to the Academy or her father’s tower.

  She decided to lead the horse in an ever-widening circle until she found her friends, the road, or something else that could tell her where she was. She was carrying enough food and water for three days, so she would not starve until then. She had her bow and a full quiver of arrows, so she was not defenseless. She was alone, a condition that usually eluded her as the Daimyo’s daughter. Rather than afraid, Michiko felt exhilarated by a sense of purpose and the prospect of achieving something no one expected her to attempt.

  Michiko began to walk, marking the trees she passed with the short knife she carried. She walked for hours without seeing another living thing. She shouted herself almost hoarse with no reply but a ghostly echo among the trees. She felt she was moving farther away from her friends, but she kept walking, leading her docile steed behind her.

  The lost princess marked more trees and expanded her circle, thinking of her friends and their joint decision to travel to the Academy. Where Riko had been passionate about Michiko’s opportunity to effect change in Kamigawa, Choryu had been militant about her responsibility to do so. His eyes flashed when he spoke of it, and the sheer force of his personality was at least as powerful as his arguments.

  She came to an unfamiliar clearing, paused to look around, and sighed. Her search must have covered more than a mile, and there was still no sign of the wizards. She faced northeast, orienting herself against the sun, and mounted her horse.

  If Choryu and Riko were here, she could guess what they would say. They would tell her to press on for Minamo and complete the journey. To return to the tower would be worse than never having left. Her father would rage and she would have armed escorts at her heels forever after. The only thing that would make that bearable would be if she could produce something concrete for the people of Towabara.

  Michiko raised her heels to prod her horse forward, but stopped in mid-kick. Across the clearing, in the shade of a giant cypress, there flashed a yellow light. It sputtered at first, like a newly lit candle, but then it shone bright and strong. The tiny glow drifted up and out of the shadows, but Michiko could still see it plainly, even in direct sunlight. It floated to the center of the clearing and hovered there, pulsating like a beacon.

  The princess smiled, tears of relief in her eyes. She had been driven from the path by a rogue storm, but now the spirits had sent her a sign. Lady Pearl-Ear had often told her kitsune-bito folklore about foxfire, hovering flames that led lost travelers to safety. Perhaps this was foxfire in action. Perhaps Towabara’s patron kami of Sun and Justice had taken pity on her. Perhaps they were rewarding her initiative or even encouraging her to continue.

  She had never spoken of it to anyone but Riko, but Michiko had heard whispers of a dire spirit curse that hung over her father’s tower. She was uplifted by the presence of the friendly light, grateful for the good will of the foxfire and the kami who sent it. She was kept hidden behind stone walls in Eiganjo Castle, but here, in the depths of the Jukai Forest, the spirit world smiled upon her.

  The foxfire glow bobbed up and down, then drifted toward the far side of the clearing. Michiko prodded her horse and it trotted forward a few yards.

  The orb of light glowed brighter. It withdrew further. Michiko encouraged her mount and followed another few yards.

  Then the orb passed through a line of cedars, out of sight. Michiko brought her horse to a trot, and as they passed through the same trees she saw the orb ahead. It was traveling northeast, slowly enough that she could follow it but quickly enough that she had to keep moving to do so.

  Michiko stared at the foxfire light as she rode, hypnotized by its soothing glow and comforted by its company. It was probably a mere spell effect, but whatever it was, it signified that someone was aware of her situation and was trying to help. Even if it hadn’t been sent by Riko and Choryu, it was leading her in the right direction.

  The princess guided her horse through the forest, keeping one eye on the spirit guide and one on the trees around her. As she rode forward into her future, she wanted to impress upon her memory the beauty and danger that surrounded her in the present.

  Riko was beside herself. Her anxiety showed in her face, in her body posture, in every visible aspect of her being. Choryu himself fought against a sickening chill in his guts, struggling to keep his jaw set and his eyes resolute.

  He had utterly failed. Michiko was gone and he had failed her, failed Riko, failed his masters back at Minamo. If he couldn’t recover the princess and escort her safely to the academy, he would be casting his own life and that of everyone he knew into the most dire peril.

  “We have to keep looking,” Riko said for the hundredth time. Choryu had stopped listening to her long ago. So long as the archer kept searching, she could say whatever she liked.

  Where had Michiko gone? They were all within sight and sound of each other, but that cursed storm hit and seemed to swallow the princess whole. When Choryu and Riko dug out from under the dust, they found they were on the opposite side of the road—they had followed Michiko east and wound up to the west.

  They retraced their steps and found the place where the storm had driven them from the road. There were three sets of hoofprints leading off the road and into the forest for a hundred yards or so, and then all three disappeared. It was like the storm lifted the horses into the air and threw them each in different directions.

  Off to his right, Choryu heard Riko calling for Michiko. His fellow student was distraught about what had happened, but she didn’t know half the extent of their predicament. She had no idea.

  Choryu quietly slipped down into a trench and then jogged about a hundred yards until he was well clear of Riko. He glanced around, spread his open palms out wide, and began to chant.

  “Ichikawa, spirit of the great river,” he chanted softly. “Your power flows through me. Hear my words, kami of the rushing waves. Your power flows through me.”

  Be quiet, a cold, hollow voice said. It felt cold in his ears, so cold it burned.

  Where is Princess Michiko?

  “Lost,” Choryu whispered. “I was bringing her to the school as instructed. We were driven apart by a freak storm.”

  Fool. Who told you to take her from the tower?

  “M-my instructions came from Headmaster Hisoka himself. I saw the scroll with his seal upon it.”

  Hisoka takes his orders from me. From now on, you will do nothing that I did not instruct you to do.

  “No,” Choryu gulped. “I will obey. What must I do?”

  Retrieve her and complete your assignment. Under no circumstances let her venture too deeply into the forest. The snakes are restless and their kami is poised to interfere. Keep her away from the spirits of nature and the forest-dwellers who worship them. Else all we have worked for will come undone.

  Protect her, water wizard. Without her, you are less than meaningless.

  “But how can I find her? Where shall I look?”

  The bodiless voice sighed in exasperation. Who were her guardians in the tower?

  “Her father?” Choryu hesitated. “Kitsune,” he said, with greater conviction. “Foxfolk.”

  Then seek her to the north where the foxes dwell. She will most likely be drawn there. Whatever finds her will also find you. Pray that it is benevolent.

  “Choryu!” Riko’s voice sounded near panic even at this great distance.

  “Over here,” the water wizard called. “Come quick! I think I’ve figured out which way she went!”

  Choryu waited as Riko came crashing through the underbrush. The cold, patrician voice lingered in his ears. He was afraid for Michiko. He was afraid for the future of Kamigawa.

  And under the cloud of his unseen patron’s ire, he feared greatly for himself.

  “Michiko,” he whispered. “Stay safe. We’re coming for you.”

  * * * * *

  Michiko rode throughout the day and on into the evening. The shining orb always stayed about twenty yards ahead of her, but it remained in sight at all times. She had dined on trail bread and fruit as she rode, and she’d drained half her goatskin of water. She felt rested, relaxed, and eager to ride on.

  As the sun disappeared and darkness settled over the forest, Michiko was torn. The foxfire was waiting up ahead, impatiently flashing at her. She could easily follow it in the gloom, but she was not willing to ride or walk Kaze over terrain she could not see. One misstep could result in a broken leg for the horse or worse, especially if he fell on her.

  “I must wait here,” she called. “I must wait until morning.” She slid down from the horse and began unrolling her pack.

  The orb shot toward her like a bird, stopping a few yards from her mount. It circled overhead, flaring from near-blinding light to almost complete darkness.

  “You must wait with me,” she said. “Or go on alone.” She pulled an apple from her supplies, cut off a section, and held it out for Kaze.

  The glowing orb buzzed furiously, flickering among the cedar boughs overhead. When Michiko spread out her bedroll and started to build a small fire, the foxfire floated down, illuminating her efforts. Once the blaze was going strong, the ball of light seemed to fasten itself to a tree branch, hanging like a lantern over the princess’s solitary bivouac.

  Michiko smiled, careful to keep her back to the orb. She was still following the foxfire on faith, but she was doing so according to her schedule. It could go on with out her, but it would not.

  As the campfire crackled, Michiko’s thoughts drifted to the spirits. Some kami were still friendly to the citizens of Towabara, despite twenty years of strife between the human and spirit worlds. She wondered if the great kami were like the leaders of great nations, with their own individual goals and spheres of influence. If one kami attacked a village, would another come to the villagers’ aid? Or were they like the tribes of Towabara, powerful in their own right but subordinate to a hierarchical leader like her father?