When it came to honoring the spirits, there were almost as many schools of thought as there were spirits to worship. She practiced the rituals and spoke the prayers that were common to her father’s tribe, but her studies had exposed her to the songs of the forest druids, the group meditation of Minamo sages, and the complicated symbols of kanji magicians. Nearly everything in Kamigawa had a spirit, and it seemed that everyone had a different method for invoking those spirits.

  Michiko cut herself a branch and wedged it into the ground. She hung a small pot from the end of the stick, poured more of her water into the pot, and then positioned the pot over the fire. The water quickly began to boil, and Michiko scattered a handful of tea leaves into it.

  The most powerful kami, such as Towabara’s patron spirits, could be invoked to affect the physical world. Her father’s generals prayed to Cleansing Fire before they rode into battle and performed rites to gain favor from the Sun. She had heard both spirits manifested when her father won the climactic battle to unify the tribes of Towabara. Also, Lady Pearl-Ear taught her that the cedar spirits worshiped by the kitsune-bito would aid some and hamper others, based on how the humans treated the forest.

  But until the Kami War started, it was unheard of for a kami to attack the physical world. Absent invocation, prayer, or ritual, the kami were purely spiritual beings who were content to remain in the spirit world. It wasn’t until after Michiko’s birth that kami attacks became frequent and eventually commonplace.

  A wave of bitter grief surged through the princess, and she shifted uncomfortably on her bedroll. She pulled the stick with the teapot out of the fire and set it on the ground to cool.

  Her mother had been among the first killed by hostile spirits. Michiko had not known Yoshino, and her father would not speak of her. Daimyo Konda had ordered all Yoshino’s likenesses removed from the tower after her funeral. Lady Pearl-Ear kept a small portrait of Yoshino in a golden cameo, but she rarely wore it. She had shown it to Michiko several times, however, usually on the day of the princess’s birth.

  Michiko had memorized every finely etched line of that portrait. She believed that she favored her father physically, but that her personality came largely from her mother. Lady Pearl-Ear had said so once, indirectly, complimenting an essay Michiko had written. When pressed, the fox-woman grew distressed and changed the subject.

  As Michiko sipped her tea directly from the pot, the glowing orb suddenly swooped down to eye level. It darted left, then back in front of Michiko’s face, then left again. It was buzzing excitedly and flashing on and off in succession.

  Instinctively, Michiko followed the foxfire’s motion with her eyes. She spit out her tea and leaped to her feet, smoothly taking the bow and quiver from the horse’s back.

  Several yards away, the air had grown thick and was folding in upon itself. The denser cloud slowly sculpted itself into a series of squat and burly bulbs, all emanating from a central core of lumpy, fibrous material.

  Michiko nocked an arrow and took aim. She had personally seen half a dozen kami attacks, but the one in the tower was freshest. She remembered Sharp-Ear’s off-the-cuff advice when he first started training her: the larger the target, the easier it is to hit, and if nothing else presents itself, go for the eye.

  The gnarled, root-like shapes had no eyes that she could see, so she trained her arrow at the center of the mass. She was hesitant to fire until she had to—there was no need to antagonize the creature until it attacked. The mass was now as big as a pony, and she decided to hold her fire until it was as big as Kaze.

  Perspiration formed on the princess’s brow as she waited. She remembered her previous train of thought, and wondered if the bow was the proper tool for this encounter. If this was all part of her destiny, as her dreams and her spirit guide seemed to indicate, perhaps she was meant to reach out to the enraged kami instead of fighting them.

  “Hear me,” she told the growing mass of bulbs and roots. “I am Princess Michiko of Towabara, daughter of Daimyo Konda. I do not wish to fight you, but to understand you. We need not be enemies. Will you speak with me?”

  In response, the kami continued to grow. Two of the bulbs came to a single point over the main mass. They were joined by another pair, and then another. As Michiko watched and waited for a response, a skeletal facsimile of a human rib cage formed before her, complete with a fibrous brown heart that throbbed at its center.

  Then the rib cage split vertically and lunged forward at Michiko, snapping like some great pair of jaws. She released her arrow straight into the thing’s heart, and it recoiled, snapping shut well clear of her. A cloud of greenish-black spores puffed out from the pseudo-organ, and Michiko covered her mouth and nose to keep from inhaling them.

  More rib-cage maws formed around the original one, each with snapping jaws and a dense, beating organ within. Being pierced through the heart did not seem to affect the first one after the initial shock of the arrow sinking in. Michiko nocked another arrow as a light flashed from the corner of her eye.

  She spared a glance toward the light and saw the foxfire orb hovering over Kaze’s saddle. It flashed frantically, urging her to follow.

  The princess looked back at the monster, growing larger all the time. It would soon have more mouths than she had arrows, and her weapons didn’t seem to be doing much good in the first place. She let fly the bolt she had ready, then vaulted up onto the horse’s back.

  As her feet found the stirrups, the glowing orb grew brighter and more intense—so bright that she could see the ground for twenty yards in all directions. Her spirit guide had led her this far and was now capable of leading her on. She might not be able to defeat the kami, but she was certain she could outrun it.

  She spurred Kaze just as three of the rib cages shot forward, snapping like hungry birds. Michiko instinctively stood upright as Kaze galloped forward, aimed back over the horse’s hind end, and fired a second arrow into the creature’s original heart.

  The central jaws recoiled once more, blocking the others and granting Michiko time to ride clear. She heard a hideous mewling and the snapping of bony jaws behind her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the terrain as she steered Kaze through the maze of trees.

  Then, the glowing guide doubled back and rushed past her like a shooting star. A cry formed on Michiko’s lips, but she kept her composure and pulled back on the reins. She fumbled with another arrow for a split second and then turned, ready to fire.

  The glowing orb surged straight into kami’s body, blasting through multiple jaws like a cannonball through thatch. When it reached the center of the mass, the foxfire’s glow became too bright to look at. Michiko shielded her eyes and smelled a horrific burning stench just as the orb exploded, sending dirt and debris hurtling across the forest.

  The blast snuffed out her campfire, and the orb’s light was also gone. For a moment, Michiko could only sit in the sudden darkness and comfort Kaze. She began to wonder if she could sit perfectly still until daylight, or if another kami would come for her in the night.

  A glimmer of yellow light shone from the shattered remains of her campsite. It grew into a brighter glimmer, then a glow. Considerably diminished, the foxfire orb rose once more and floated toward Michiko and Kaze.

  It stopped in front of the princess’s face and flashed wearily.

  “I am sorry,” Michiko said. “From now on, I will follow until you stop.”

  The orb flickered and then grew brighter, recreating the shine that made travel possible. She would have to go no faster than a canter, but Michiko knew she could navigate by the orb’s reduced light if she were careful … and no more kami attacked.

  Slowly, carefully, she followed the foxfire as it lead her northeast.

  * * * * *

  Pearl-Ear sat meditating in the early morning mist. Merely being in her home village had a restorative effect on her, but she was no closer to the answers she sought.

  Two days ago, she had met with Lady Silk-Eyes, the village elder and one of the most respected kitsune-bito in all Kamigawa. The wise old fox had told her to sit, remain awake, and clear her mind. He said she must empty her thoughts before attempting to organize them. Since then, Pearl-Ear had spent her time sitting, chanting, and fasting, consuming only fresh water from the village well and the occasional pot of tea.

  The kitsune-bito had villages scattered all along the northwestern section of the Jukai. Taken together, the foxfolk population was barely a third that in the Daimyo’s tower, but they had proven their worth to Towabara as both citizens and warriors. They were a careful, circumspect people who liked visitors, but rarely invited them. Pearl-Ear was enjoying the solitude and the cleansing effect of her vigil, but her problems were too many and too pressing to be completely dismissed.

  She sat with eyes closed in the doorway of her hut, provided by the elder for the duration of her stay. In the distance, she heard the careful tread of a kitsune-bito, which served to announce the foxfolk’s arrival. If it had been anything but a formal visit, she would not have heard a sound until the visitor opened the gate.

  “Lady Pearl-Ear of Towabara?”

  Pearl-Ear opened her eyes. “I am Lady Pearl-Ear of the kitsune-bito,” she corrected. “It is only of late that I have been a member of the Daimyo’s court.”

  The visitor was another female, roughly Pearl-Ear’s size but visibly younger.

  “Forgive me, noble Lady Pearl-Ear. “I am called Cloud-Fur.”

  “Cloud-Fur. Welcome.”

  “The elder sent me to fetch you. You have a visitor.”

  “Here?” Pearl-Ear straightened and retied her robes. “Is there trouble in the tower?”

  “I cannot say. I was asked to bring you around so that you might greet a traveler from Eiganjo.”

  “Was it a messenger? A soldier?”

  “I have not seen the visitor, only the elder.”

  “Thank you, Cloud-Fur. I will come with you now.”

  Together, the two kitsune-bito made their way across the sparsely populated village. At this early hour the clerics were in prayer, the farmers hard at work, and the warriors were patrolling the woods. The foxfolk homes were spaced wide and many were partially concealed by low-hanging cedar boughs or great sheets of climbing ivy. There were larger kitsune villages, grander ones with gleaming white towers, but they were all to the south, closer to akki territory and Godo’s bandit horde.

  At the entrance to Lady Silk-Eyes’s dwelling, Cloud-Fur stopped. Her mission complete, she bowed to Lady Pearl-Ear and headed back into the village.

  Pearl-Ear watched her go and then turned to the elder’s hut. Most likely the Daimyo had sent someone after her, calling her back to the tower. As she passed through the waist-high gate into the elder’s yard, Pearl-Ear was mentally preparing her polite refusal. She had made progress here in the village, but she needed more time before she was ready to return to the tower.

  She stopped at the doorway and called, “Sensei?”

  “Come in, Lady Pearl-Ear. We have been expecting you.”

  The interior of the hut was dark, but Pearl-Ear’s eyes quickly compensated. The elder kitsune sat at the far end of the room next to an overstuffed straw mattress. The occupant of the mattress was asleep.

  “Wake, child,” Lady Silk-Eyes murmured. “Lady Pearl-Ear is here.”

  The sleeping form stirred. The young woman sat straight up, and Pearl-Ear recognized her a heartbeat before she could speak her first breathless words.

  “Lady Pearl-Ear,” Michiko cried happily. “Praise the spirits, I made it!”

  A thousand thoughts churned through Pearl-Ear’s mind but she remained speechless. As Lady Silk-Eyes lit a lamp and filled the room with a soft yellow glow, Michiko struggled free of the mattress.

  Why had she come here? How had she managed the journey alone? What Shockwaves had the princess’s disappearance sent through the Daimyo’s tower?

  As Lady Silk-Eyes quietly left the hut, Michiko’s feet found the floor. She rushed into Pearl-Ear’s waiting arms.

  “The spirits led me to you,” Michiko said. “I was lost in the forest and the spirits sent me a guide. Foxfire brought me straight here …it even helped me battle a kami!”

  “Breathe,” Pearl-Ear whispered, hugging the child close. “Start from the beginning. What were you doing in the forest?”

  Michiko hesitated, then said, “I was on my way to the Minamo Academy. I was separated from my party by an unnatural storm.”

  Lady Pearl-Ear pushed Michiko back and held the princess by the shoulders. “Was it a kami attack?”

  “No, that came later. I lost Riko and Choryu in the woods and—”

  “Riko? Choryu? What were they doing there?”

  Michiko’s eyes never wavered. “We were going to the Academy to look for answers.”

  “What? That is sheer madness.”

  “It is not, sensei. The kami attacks grow worse all the time. They even attacked my father’s advisors in council. He would not let me seek help from the Academy, so I sought it on my own.”

  “You are a very foolish girl, then. There is far more at stake here than your pride or your need for the Daimyo’s attention.”

  Michiko frowned. “I did not do this for me. Not for pride or the rare gift of my father’s approval.”

  Lady Pearl-Ear felt her expression hardening. “But you disobeyed your father, and you disobeyed me. The Daimyo forbade you to leave the tower, and—”

  “And I am the Daimyo’s daughter,” Michiko replied with a rebellious flip of her head. “I was acting for the good of my people and all Kamigawa.”

  “Sharp-Ear should have stopped you. I will tell him so when I see him.”

  “Sharp-Ear didn’t know. And he couldn’t have stopped me if he did.”

  “Sharp-Ear didn’t know,” Pearl-Ear echoed sarcastically. “And that makes everything all right?”

  Michiko suddenly crossed her arms and scowled. “I thought you’d be happy to see me. I didn’t expect a lecture.”

  “You quit your father’s house in secret and exposed yourself to unimaginable danger. You dishonored my brother, and me for leaving him in charge. A lecture is the least of your worries.”

  “But don’t you see? My journey was decreed by fate and guided by the spirits. I dreamed of taking a larger role in the Kami War. I escaped the tower as easily as crossing a room. And despite freak storms and angry kami, I am here, where you yourself came to gain better perspective on the dangers that threaten Kamigawa. Think how much I can learn here, how much I can help you learn.”

  Pearl-Ear paused. After the initial shock of seeing Michiko and the reflex scolding that followed, she was noticing something new about the princess. Michiko had always been lighthearted and energetic, but now she was something more. She seemed to have a purpose, something that was driving her. And she was far more confident than Pearl-Ear had seen.

  “Tell me more,” Pearl-Ear said, “about this journey. You were caught in a storm?”

  “We were attacked by a storm. It changed direction with the wind and swept right over us.”

  “Describe the storm.”

  “It was a large, fast-moving windstorm, a spinning cloud of dust. The wind was very forceful. It tore down an ancient tree standing alone on the plains, but the forest protected us.”

  Pearl-Ear nodded. Some things were starting to make a little more sense. “And the spirit guide?”

  “A glowing ball, about two fists wide. Like the light from a small lantern without the lantern. I thought it might be kitsune foxfire. It guided me through the Jukai and defended me from a horrible grasping kami made of roots.”

  “Foxfire. I see. And you went on this ill-advised trip because of a dream?”

  “I have been dreaming about the horrors of war, and of me standing by, doing nothing. I took it as a message, and acted on it.” She fell to her knees and grabbed the hem of Lady Pearl-Ear’s robe. “Sensei, please. I was sent on this trip and guided through it by friendly spirits. Don’t you see? This means that not all the kami are against my father. It is their love that sparked this journey, and their concern that got me here safely.”

  “It was not friendly spirits,” Pearl-Ear said. “It was my foolish brother.”

  Michiko accepted Lady Pearl-Ear’s hand and got to her feet. “Sharp-Ear? We left him back at the tower.”

  “Not so. The storm you describe? That image is from an old teaching story we kitsune show our kits. It demonstrates that the world is alive, interactive, and always changing—a tree grows on the flatlands, a great wind levels the tree, but the forest halts the wind.

  “And the foxfire? That is an old kitsune trick many adolescents use on travelers to lead them astray. In harsher times, our samurai would use it to lead enemy forces into traps or away from populated villages. These days, it’s just another prank played by tricksters.”

  Michiko’s mouth hung open in shocked silence. “But it led me here. …”

  “Which is where I imagine Sharp-Ear wanted you to go. This business about fighting kami supports my theory. An adolescent wouldn’t be able to use foxfire as a weapon. But he can.”

  The princess seemed on the verge of tears. “But why would he frighten us and drive away my friends?”

  “He must have figured you’d be safest with me. I’m sure he meant no harm to Riko and Choryu, it’s just that he doesn’t usually stop to think about all the consequences of his actions.”

  Michiko sagged as if all the vitality had been drained from her body. “So we have no friends among the kami. Their war against us is total.”

  In that moment the princess was the image of her mother, complete with Yoshino’s ability to infect everyone nearby with her mood. Pearl-Ear suddenly felt so sorry for the devastated princess that her anger melted and she swept Michiko up in her arms again.