“There are almost three hundred akki in the woods,” Sharp-Ear said. “And there are more of them each day. Don’t ask me how. Maybe they breed on squalor and misery, because that’s what they’re marching on.”

  He smiled, and when no one smiled back, he continued. “All armed … well, armed in the sense that every last one of them has something heavy or sharp to swing. Nothing like the well-polished blades of Towabara or kitsune.”

  “Save your flattery,” Nagao growled.

  “Agreed,” Silver-Foot said. “Just tell us what you know.”

  “They will pass through here within a day. They move under cover of darkness. That also seems to be when their numbers increase. They do not light campfires to cook, but they do build a large bonfire every few days. They light it about an hour before dawn and perform some sort of ritual that ends when the sun comes up.”

  “Akki don’t raid this way,” Nagao said. “They’re either running straight at you or fleeing as fast as they can. They make so much noise and bother when they move that it’s impossible not to see them coming or know that they’re gone. That’s one of the reasons they’re easier to contain than the bandits.”

  “Bandits,” Sharp-Ear mused. “Sanzoku. Like the ones leading the akki raiders?”

  Both Silver-Foot and Nagao fixed their eyes on Sharp-Ear.

  “Bandits as well?” the kitsune asked.

  “How many?” said Nagao.

  “A half-dozen or less,” Sharp-Ear said. “The ringleaders are a pair of twins. They tend to stay out of sight, but I got several good looks at them.”

  “This is bad,” Nagao said. “Two of Godo’s best lieutenants are twins. Were these two tall, thin, topknots looped around their shoulders?”

  “That’s them.”

  Nagao nodded. “Seitaro and Shujiro.”

  “Capable warriors?” Silver-Foot asked.

  “Very capable. Strong leaders, too. Next to Godo himself, they’re the most powerful sanzoku chiefs in the region. We’ve been hunting them for years.” The Towabara officer paused. “But this makes even less sense than the akki alone. Godo and the goblins are notoriously quarrelsome. They engage in border disputes about once a year. Light skirmishing, nothing too dramatic, but it helps keep them in check.”

  “These bandits seem to have settled their differences with the akki.”

  “To our disadvantage.” Lady Pearl-Ear reached for an empty mug. “This is getting worse by the second.”

  Lady Silk-Eyes sat at the table, placing her staff alongside her mug. “What will you do, Captain Nagao?”

  “My orders are to keep the princess safe, and bring her back to the tower,” Nagao said.

  “Which you can’t do with an army of goblins loose.” Silver-Foot smiled a thin smile. “You said yours was not a defensive force. Could you mount an offense?”

  “If we knew where they were, yes. Easily. My yabusame riders could occupy the bulk of the akki … if I had assurances that the princess would be kept safe.”

  “We were preparing to keep a whole village full of civilians safe before you arrived,” Silver-Foot said. “One more human girl will not tax our defenses.”

  “But we don’t need to attack,” Pearl-Ear said. “Why not deploy all the warriors we have and dig in until the tower sends help?”

  Nagao grunted. “You don’t wait for akki to attack,” he said. “You take the initiative. You’re a diplomat, Lady Pearl-Ear, not a soldier. We must fight on our terms, not theirs.”

  “Besides,” Silver-Foot shifted uncomfortably. “Three hundred akki is more than we can handle if they all come at once. I see three options. One: evacuate everyone and withdraw to the tower.”

  “That will not do,” Lady Silk-Eyes said. “The moment you start rounding them up, our people will flee into the woods. We do not like to be corralled. Besides, this village is not merely a collection of huts. We are connected to this place, bound to the land itself.”

  Silver-Foot nodded. “Two: we set up defensive perimeters and hope we don’t have to defend them against the entire horde before reinforcements arrive.”

  “I never follow a plan that hinges on hope,” Nagao said.

  “Nor I. Finally: the soldiers of Towabara and a hand-picked team of kitsune take the fight into the woods. While they harass the akki, the rest of my forces will stay here and protect the villagers and the princess.”

  “That sounds like a the way to go,” Sharp-Ear said.

  Pearl-Ear flared. “Be silent, fool.”

  Nagao toyed with his empty mug. “The fool is right. That is the most promising option. But I cannot leave the princess in anyone else’s care.” He looked up at Silver-Foot’s curling lip and quickly added, “I know how capable the kitsune are in battle. I have fought beside your kind many times. But I received my orders from the Daimyo personally, and it is my responsibility to protect the princess and bring her home. I cannot delegate that role to anyone, no matter how formidable.”

  Lady Silk-Eyes filled Nagao’s mug. “Then you have a decision to make, captain of Towabara. Your nation’s leader gave you a task; your nation itself demands another. Save the princess, battle the akki. Are they mutually exclusive?”

  Nagao left his steaming mug alone as his brow wrinkled. “What?”

  Pearl-Ear stepped in. “She means, can you do both? First one and then the other?”

  “There is nothing I would like more than to ride out and wipe the akki off the face of the map. But the princess has wandered off before while guarded. What guarantee do I have that she’ll be here when I return from battle?” He turned to Sharp-Ear. “Don’t say a word, tutor.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “You have my word, Captain,” Silver-Foot said. “One soldier to another. My retainers will defend her with the rest of the village, and keep her here until you return. If you do not return, I will consider it my personal obligation to return her to Eiganjo Castle.”

  Nagao shifted his mug back and forth in front of him. “There are conditions,” he said.

  “Name them.”

  Nagao pointed at Sharp-Ear. “He comes with me. He’s supposed to be a yabusame expert and we can use all the archers we can muster.”

  Silver-Foot nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Whether I return or not, Princess Michiko goes back to the tower once the reinforcements arrive. I want Lady Pearl-Ear to go with her.”

  Pearl-Ear started. “I will stay by the princess’s side, no matter where she goes.”

  “She’s going to the tower. Listen, I am a fool for accepting the word of tricksters …no offense intended.”

  “None taken.” Sharp-Ear’s eyes sparkled.

  “But I do expect you to honor your end. If we fight and die to protect your village and you let the Daimyo’s daughter go, or allow her to become harmed in any way, there will be consequences.”

  “Understood.” Lady Silk-Eyes rose, collecting the mugs.

  “Very well. Captain Silver-Foot, assemble your warriors. I want to see where the princess will be protected and who will be protecting her before I ride out.”

  “Done.”

  “You’ve been very quiet, Princess.” Pearl-Ear turned to Michiko, waiting silently in the corner. “Do you understand the difficult position you’ve put us all in? Especially your father.”

  “I am in a difficult position myself, sensei.”

  “To be sure. And it will become more difficult. For you, all your friends, and the whole of Kamigawa if you are not returned to the tower soon.” Pearl-Ear bowed to Nagao.

  The soldier stood. “Princess,” he said. “I hope you realize that we are all your servants, and that we are ready to die on our behalf. But don’t make me come looking for you again.”

  Nagao bowed. “Princess. Elder. Lady. Excuse me now.” Nagao turned to Silver-Foot. “If you would, Captain, come with me and we will prepare for battle.”

  * * * * *

  In a few short hours all was ready. The kitsune villagers along with the elder, Lady Pearl-Ear, Princess Michiko, and the two student wizards were all safely ensconced in a storehouse with half of Silver-Foot’s warriors stationed outside. Another ten patrolled the village perimeter, hidden from view by their expert camouflage and fieldcraft.

  Silver-Foot himself took the rest of his warriors and Sharp-Ear to Nagao’s temporary campsite to take part in the offensive. Each of the kitsune brought their own horse and weapons, except for Sharp-Ear, who had to make do with what he could borrow. As they mounted up to move into the woods, Nagao placed Sharp-Ear alongside his own horse at the head of the column, both to act as guide and so he could keep an eye on the crafty kitsune.

  With the sound of hoof beats fading into the distance, Pearl-Ear sat with Michiko, Riko, and Choryu in the storehouse. The water wizard was still in a dismal mood.

  “This is a disaster,” he muttered. “How long must we squat like toadstools in this dank barn before we’re carted off back to Eiganjo? Or worse?”

  “Captain Nagao said nothing about retrieving you two,” Michiko said. “You may return with us, or you may go on to the Academy.”

  Choryu conjured a small ball of water into the palm of his hand and made a fist, splattering the liquid in a circle around him. “It’s nice to have options. If we survive to explore them.”

  Riko elbowed him, and Pearl-Ear said, “The brave captains know their work. We will be safe here.”

  “I would like to go on to Minamo,” Riko said. “If I can find something of value, I will bring it back to the tower.”

  “In time to prevent my punishment?” Michiko smiled.

  “I hope so. But if not, I at least want to prove that this was not a completely childish errand we were on.”

  “Ill advised, yes,” Pearl-Ear said. “Childish, I am not so certain. Provided you were motivated by a real concern for the Daimyo’s kingdom and not simply seeking adventures.” She gazed meaningfully at Choryu.

  “I suppose I should be glad we’re not going deeper into the forest after all,” Choryu said. “That vision was mistaken. The snakefolk would have killed us on sight and fed us to their young.”

  “You saw what we saw,” Michiko retorted. “The elder and the entire village focused on our problem ahead of their own. Our path clearly leads to the orochi-bito.”

  “And certain death. The orochi don’t help outsiders, Michiko-hime. To them, we don’t exist until we enter their territory. And then we don’t exist for long.”

  “What about the orochi?” Michiko turned to Lady Pearl-Ear. “The elder said we would find answers there.”

  “It is unlikely that we will be traveling again any time soon. But perhaps Sharp-Ear or one of the other kitsune would be willing to go on our behalf.”

  “If Nagao lets him out of his sight.”

  Pearl-Ear excused herself and circulated around the storeroom, checking on the door sentries and greeting her fellow kitsune. She was something of a minor celebrity, what with her work in the tower and the arrival of the princess, but the foxfolk were mostly concerned with the hostile goblins so close by.

  Pearl-Ear was also concerned. As much as Sharp-Ear abused her good nature and failed in his duties, she did not want to see him fall in battle, especially not against akki. He was quick and clever and he was good with a bow, but he was not a maker of war.

  Return to me, brother, Pearl-Ear prayed silently. If nothing else, I would like to hear how you would explain the things you have done.

  Sharp-Ear led the Towabara archers into the denser woods to the northeast of the village. It would have been easy for him to lead them astray, to guide them to a deserted part of the forest and lose them among the cedars.

  He chuckled as he dismissed the notion. Despite Pearl-Ear’s low opinion of him, he was not a completely selfish creature. Besides, the goblins were threatening his village, and the safest course was to support the Daimyo’s cavalry.

  All things considered, he told himself, things weren’t going so badly. Oh, yes, there was a hostile force loose in the woods, the Daimyo had called for his head, and Pearl-Ear would probably skin him and wear his fur as socks. He had survived worse. On the up side, he had prevented Michiko from going to the academy, guided her safely to Pearl-Ear, and led Choryu to a minor but well-deserved beating. Things may not have improved since then, but they had definitely progressed.

  He sensed something ahead and held up his hand. Beside him, Nagao nodded and repeated the gesture. When the mounted archers saw their captain move, they all responded instantly, bringing their horses to a silent stop.

  “Thirty yards,” Sharp-Ear whispered. “Due east.”

  Nagao leaned over, steadying himself on Sharp-Ear’s mount. “How many?”

  “Very many. Almost all, in fact.”

  Nagao turned his horse around and walked it back to the column. He exchanged words with his lieutenants, pointing one to the north and one to the south. The yabusame company split into three groups, one following each lieutenant and one staying with Nagao.

  “Listen,” the officer said. “We are the main thrust of the attack, but we are also the diversion. My men and I are going to ride straight in, right up the middle, shooting as we go. If the akki hold true to form, they’ll try to close around us and mob the horses. Once they commit to that, the others will attack their flanks.”

  “That sounds like suicide.”

  “Only if you ride at less than a full gallop, or miss too many targets. Are you ready, tutor?”

  Sharp-Ear smiled. “Ready, captain. And pay attention: I just might teach you something before this day is through.”

  Nagao’s short sword was suddenly tight against Sharp-Ear’s throat. “A friendly warning,” the soldier said. “I’d be very careful about what you try to teach me this day. Stay in front. If you move to the side or fall behind, I’ll consider you fair game. I don’t trust you, kitsune, and if you don’t die before I do, I’ll make sure to take you with me.”

  “Ahem,” Sharp-Ear said. “A strong point, well made. Or, I should say a sharp edge, well applied? In either case, you can rely on me.”

  “No, I can’t.” Nagao withdrew his sword. “That’s why you’re staying in front.”

  Without another word, Nagao drew his bow and nocked an arrow. He held the bolt loosely against the bowstring as he stared at Sharp-Ear expectantly.

  “Oh. Of course. Sorry.” Sharp-Ear likewise readied his weapon, and both archers rose in the stirrups until they were standing tall.

  “For the Daimyo,” Nagao said.

  “For the princess,” Sharp-Ear added. He slapped his horse across the rump and galloped through the trees.

  Behind him, he heard Nagao shout, “Hah!” and then the captain’s huge horse digging up the turf.

  For a few splendid seconds, Sharp-Ear was able to enjoy the rush of the wind in his face and the feel of a powerful war horse beneath him. The steed was unfamiliar, but he was an expert rider and the horse was well trained. Together, they were at least the equal of any other rider and mount on the battlefield.

  Then Sharp-Ear was through the trees and into the goblin camp. The akki had felled another large tree and a small mob was working on it with crude tools. Dozens more were laid out in rows, resting for the upcoming ritual and night march. In the wide spaces of the artificial clearing, Sharp-Ear estimated there were at least a two hundred goblins, maybe more.

  They were slow to recognize Sharp-Ear as a threat, mostly because they were too stupid to focus on more than one thing at a time. The group chipping away at the log was engrossed in their labor and the rest were drowsy, almost stuporous. It occurred to the kitsune rider that he could probably make it all the way across the clearing without engaging a single goblin. Nagao would probably shoot him if he did, however. The plan was to stir them up and focus their attention.

  An akki with an axe stopped mid-chop as Sharp-Ear bore down on him. The little monster stood, eyes blank and mouth open until Sharp-Ear buried a shaft in the center of its face.

  “Wake up and die, beetle-backs!” Sharp-Ear fired three quick arrows in succession, knocking three more goblins from the great log. “You’ve come to the wrong thrice-damned forest!”

  Behind, Nagao and the other yabusame archers thundered into the clearing. They were not as eloquent as Sharp-Ear, but they were louder and just as accurate. Amid a cacophony of war cries, galloping hooves, and goblin screams, the Daimyo’s men ripped into the akki raiders.

  Sharp-Ear shot a bone-studded club from the hands of a large goblin and then trampled the little brute and two of his fellows under his steed. He continued to gallop and fire, but apart from that single incident, no one even raised a weapon against him until he reached the far side of the clearing.

  There, Sharp-Ear turned and reined in his horse. Unwilling to ride back across the clearing for fear of winding up behind Nagao, he watched as the captain’s squad cut a swath through the center of the akki horde. He was pleased to notice they were following the route he himself had taken. He was teaching Nagao already.

  Sharp-Ear picked off stray goblins here and there as he waited. So far, the plan was failing only in that the akki weren’t quick enough to close ranks around them.

  Nagao’s horse charged up to Sharp-Ear and reared.

  “Turn, damn you all!” Nagao raised his bow in one hand, shouting loud enough to wake the trees. “Another pass! Turn and ride!” The captain fixed Sharp-Ear with a wild-eyed stare. “You first, fox-man! Ride!”

  Sharp-Ear spurred his mount back across the clearing. The akki were slow to react, but they made up for their sluggishness with sheer numbers. By now even the drowsiest goblin was awake and reaching for his weapon. The mob on the log had all made it to the forest floor and were advancing toward the riders, cluttering and clicking like mad insects.

  A large goblin sprang onto Sharp-Ear’s horse, locking its over-long arms around the beast’s neck. It held on as the horse pounded along, struggling to dig its long claws or its jagged teeth into the mount’s throat.

  Sharp-Ear paused, mindful of shooting his own steed. He trusted his aim, but he didn’t want the arrow to ricochet off the akki’s shell. As he carried no sword of his own, Sharp-Ear’s options were limited.