A woman’s face formed in the center of the new tree’s trunk, a woman with smooth, brown skin and wild, leafy hair. More shoots sprouted around the face, and these also grew until there was a series of gracefully curving boughs encircling the central trunk. These boughs in turn sprouted more growth, until it seemed as if the entire forest had been compressed into this single clearing, but continued to grow in and over and around itself. Huge circular grains floated among the tangle of branches and vines, glowing a soft yellowish-green.

  The frenzied chanting grew louder and more intense. The birds nearby took flight, and some of the dead and dying trees simply fell, their roots jarred loose by the rhythmic pounding of the worshippers’ feet.

  She was taken from us.

  The priests howled and screeched, the snakes growled and hissed.

  We had the means to end this nightmare once and for all. But it was taken from us.

  The noise grew agonized, painful, the outraged screams of a tortured innocent.

  Take it back. I am the forest, and it is me. There is no hiding. I will show you the way.

  A green mist seeped through the manifested kami’s limbs, flowing out and filling the ritual space. The kannushi ceased their noise to breathe deep the blessing from their patron spirit. The snakes continued to hiss as they drew in and blew out, and the sound from their throats sent the birds flying once more.

  You will find her here. Go. We have the power to end this. By your love, by your devotion, we can end it today.

  The clearing exploded into wild noise as the rampant worshippers overflowed the confines of the clearing and spilled out into the denser forest. Fully half of the assembled snakes melted away into the woods. All but a handful of the priests stayed to chant, preserving the manifestation of their patron spirit. When they had reclaimed the princess, their kami would grow even larger, and reward them all with the bounty of her love.

  Go, my children. Go and take back what was stolen.

  * * * * *

  High above the Minamo Academy, floating on a cloud over the falls, the soratami reigned. Their capital city was the grandest city in the world, but no human had ever set foot there. It took powerful magic or one of the moonfolk’s own cloud chariots to come and go from the city’s majestic spires. Hisoka the headmaster once rode such a chariot to the gates of the city, but he was not invited in. He counted himself lucky to have seen it at all.

  Among the gleaming towers of steel and glass was a huge central structure bigger than most of the human cities on the ground. This edifice was the seat of the soratami power structure, the home to its leaders and the most accomplished of their kind.

  In an ornate chamber in the upper reaches of this palace in the sky, the samurai Eitoku and his shinobi partner were arguing.

  “This has already gone too far, Chiyo,” Eitoku said heatedly. His partner nodded.

  The woman Chiyo smiled at them. “That is not for you to decide.”

  “You’ve heard our agent’s report. The orochi-bito have been roused and the princess has been taken.”

  “Yes. Yes they have. Is this the same agent who lost her on the road to the academy?”

  Eitoku looked down. “Yes. That was the headmaster’s idea. We would not have approved it.”

  “So you failed to stop your agent from his folly. And he failed to deliver the princess to the school. You two have failed remarkably often lately.”

  Eitoku glared down at the woman. “You may be Uyo’s right hand,” he said, “but you go too far.”

  “I think that you do not go far enough. Like that ochimusha in the alley. Like when he trapped us all in his hovel.” Her cold smile stayed fixed as her voice continued in Eitoku’s head.

  If not for my training, we might still be there.

  Then Chiyo spoke aloud once more. “Setbacks are part of the game, Eitoku. If you panic every time things don’t go exactly as planned, you won’t recognize victory when it’s staring you in the face.”

  “We should intervene directly. We should kill them all and—”

  “You are too impetuous, Eitoku, too direct. You should learn to move slowly, with your eyes open. There are subtleties within subtleties to be considered. The kami are as inscrutable to us as we are to the academics at Minamo, but they make themselves plain to your superiors.”

  “Subtleties? The entire endeavor is unraveling as we speak.”

  “Hardly. We still have access and we still have control.”

  “But we do not have the princess. She is with that lowlife thug who—”

  Chiyo cleared her throat. “Perhaps you didn’t hear. We still have access. We still have control.” She fluttered her eyes. “At least, some of us do. Perhaps you should stick to organizing the rats.”

  Eitoku’s face went slack. “I am not used to being spoken to this way.”

  “That’s because you’re my junior. This is the most important endeavor the soratami have ever attempted, one that is being managed and overseen by the highest levels of our culture. You don’t move in those circles. I do.

  “I have better information than you. I am older, wiser, and crueler than you. You will stop harboring this fantasy that you have the power to affect our leaders’ decisions. They know everything you know already and have rejected any half-baked notion you might suggest.”

  Eitoku turned away, cowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Indeed. Now. Send word to your agent. We need to be ready in case the orochi-bito rabble try something unforeseen.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And listen well, Eitoku. The stakes we are gambling for are beyond your feeble comprehension. This has been in motion for decades, and you are but one small part of the process.”

  Chiyo smiled at the tall samurai, daring him to comment on her glib inspirational speech.

  But Eitoku just nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chiyo gazed out the window while the warriors shuffled off. They really were such children. She had concerns of her own about the handling of this situation, but she kept them to herself. Unlike Eitoku, she did not need to be reminded to trust the soratami leadership. She was part of it, after all.

  Chiyo paused, sending her thoughts to her master, who dwelled in the most secret recesses of the city. Uyo the prophet replied, and Chiyo smiled at her master’s confidence.

  Things were growing more complicated, more dangerous. But they were far from out of control.

  * * * * *

  In any other circumstances, Pearl-Ear would have been pleased with their progress. The kitsune were moving as quickly as they could and Choryu kept himself and Riko reasonably close behind, but they were all still too far away to do Michiko any good.

  She had lost sight of the wizards hours ago, but she kept track of their progress as best she could. Pearl-Ear herself was the slowest of the kitsune—Sharp-Ear and the brothers did not wait, pulling a little further ahead with each acre they covered. The party was in danger of spreading out too much, but Pearl-Ear could not bring herself to slow down the group’s fastest members.

  The hours blurred together as they crossed meadow, thicket, and stream with the same driving, inexorable pace. They slowed only to get their bearings, check the trail, and hunt.

  Without their rations, they were forced to live on whatever they could find or catch. The brothers were especially good at running prey to ground, so there was no shortage of meat—wild pigs, game birds, and weasels were numerous. The rough lifestyle left them all looking lean and wild, robes in tatters, fur tangled and muddy, muzzles smeared with blood.

  Pearl-Ear’s own senses had become sharper, and these more vivid sights and smells raised almost irresistible passions in her. She helped corral the game they caught, but she longed to take it down herself. A freshwater spring five hundred yards away called to her, fairly demanding that she come and drink. She had been so long among the cities of Towabara, and here was the chance to run free once more.

  But Pearl-Ear was not enslaved to her instincts. Michiko was always central to her thoughts. She was the reason for this taxing survival run, and as wild as Pearl-Ear was, she focused the bulk of her energy on finding the ochimusha’s trail. Whenever the brothers grew too fervid during the hunt, Pearl-Ear and Sharp-Ear brought them back to their real quarry: the princess and the man who took her.

  The trail had recently grown much warmer. They had seen a great moth flying away to the north, and the creatures were so rare and concentrated in Towabara that there couldn’t be two flying loose in this area. They backtracked in the direction the moth had come, and within hours Sharp-Ear had caught a familiar trace. Michiko and the ochimusha had been through here recently.

  The brothers began to pant like hungry dogs when Sharp-Ear shared his find. Pearl-Ear felt the same anticipation but kept her mouth closed. Toshi was close. And with him, Michiko.

  Choryu and Riko were still bringing up the rear, out of sight but well within earshot for a kitsune. The brothers carved another trail marker into the bark of a tree for the wizards, and all five kitsune spread out to form a skirmish line. Pearl-Ear nodded, and they began to run, spreading out as they went with their backs bent and their muzzles near the ground.

  “So,” Toshi said carefully. “You sent me those symbols, little smiling kami?”

  “Mochi,” the little man said.

  “Whatever.” Toshi stepped between Mochi and Michiko, who had risen and was coming to the mouth of the cave.

  “And you are Toshi Umezawa.” The blue cherub bowed. When he rose, he turned to the princess and sank to one knee. “And Princess Michiko, daughter of the Daimyo. An honor, Princess.”

  Michiko bowed reflexively, then shook her head in irritation. She glared at Toshi and said, “What is going on?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. He says he’s a kami.” Toshi squinted down at the little blue figure. “You don’t look like any kami I’ve ever seen.”

  “And you’ve seen a lot of them lately, haven’t you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  “As have I,” Michiko said. “But I have never seen a kami that walked and talked so much like a man.”

  “Each spirit is unique,” Mochi said with a friendly smile. “You see, our minds are quite different from yours. What you know of us in this world is part what we are, part what you make us out to be.” He held his arms out, offering them a clear view of his entire body. “The utsushiyo is your realm, made for beings like you. This form I wear is an echo of what I truly am in the kakuriyo—and echoes are often distorted, misinterpreted by mortal ears. But I am a kami, believe that. There are people who call to me and upon me all the time. They’ve even given me a grand name so that I might be on par with the most exalted of spirits.”

  “Sure,” Toshi said. “I believe you completely. There’s no way you could just be an imp or a kappa with delusions of grandeur. Let me fall down and start praying.”

  “Ah, Toshi. I can see I’m going to have to give you a demonstration.”

  “I think you should give me a fond farewell and leave before I tie you up and gag you.”

  Mochi grinned again, dazzling them with his shining silver teeth.

  One demonstration, coming right up.

  Toshi became blinded, staring at an endless field of white. The glare started to fade, from the edges of his vision inward. He blinked repeatedly as the scene clarified before him.

  He’d thought the view from the moth’s back was spectacular, but he was so high up now that he could see the edge of the world itself curving along the horizon. Continental landmasses shifted below him as the globe turned, but even here he could hear hundreds of tiny voices calling out, begging to be noticed and blessed.

  Then Toshi was a ray of light, hurtling down through the clouds and illuminating a patch of sea. The white foam reflected his silver glow, and around him Toshi saw an ocean of light dancing on the surface of the water.

  A strange, alien joy overcame him and he tried to shout. Overhead, the crescent moon sent down more light to play among the waves, and Toshi felt an inexplicable yearning to rise and rejoin the glow that had spawned him.

  The world went white again. When his eyes cleared, Toshi’s legs went rubbery and he collapsed to the cave floor.

  He rolled over on to his back and struggled to a sitting position. Michiko was also down on the ground, lying on her side with her eyes blank and her mouth moving.

  “The sea,” she muttered. “The light.”

  Toshi struggled to clear his head. He climbed to his feet and drew his jitte, holding it in front of him.

  Mochi still stood by the mouth of the cave, his arms spread and his teeth shining.

  I am an aspect of the moon. Mochi’s smile did not change; his lips did not move. There is one moon spirit, but there are many phases. We are distinct, we are one. I am one of many, yet I am unique in all the spirit realm. We are the feasting rabbit, we are the eye of the spirit world—wide open, fully closed, and all points in between. I am Mochi, the eye squinted almost shut in mirth, the sharp silver crescent of a joyous smile.

  The voice sounded directly in Toshi’s ears. From the way Michiko was wincing, Toshi guessed she was hearing it, too.

  Our minds are different from yours. What one kami does cannot long be kept from the others. Those of us who can act often choose not to. But for you, Michiko, and you, Toshi, I shall act.

  “All right,” Toshi grunted. “You win. Just go back to talking, because this is splitting the princess’s head wide open. I’m not enjoying it, either.”

  “Suits me.” Mochi hopped up on a stone so that he was at eye level with Toshi. Beside them, Michiko stood and leaned against the cave wall.

  “Mochi.” Michiko stepped forward. “If I believe you are what you say, will you take me from here and help me find Lady Pearl-Ear?” She offered him her bound wrists. “I am being held here against my will.”

  “Touch her,” Toshi called, “and we’ll have a problem.”

  “I’m not going to free you yet, Princess. For now, I think this is the safest place you can be. While you’re with me, you’re under my protection.”

  Mochi clasped his hands behind his back and paced around the top of the stone. “Now then. Lately, you’ve been driven back and forth across the country by kami and their agents.”

  “Who has?” Toshi said. “Me, or her?”

  “Both of you.”

  Toshi shook his head. “My trouble started with moonfolk. The kami didn’t start popping up until after that.” He narrowed his eyes and took a step back. “You wouldn’t know anything about the moonfolk who are after me, would you, Mr. Smiling Moon Spirit?”

  Mochi grinned guiltily. “I do, a little. But trust me, those snobs wouldn’t deign to scheme with me. They pray to the larger spirit, the moon in all its guises.”

  “And I’ve been seeing a lot of crescent moons lately. In the sky, on the scales of angry kami, around the necks of soratami. You’d better come clean, little spirit, because you’re not very convincing.”

  “The moonfolk are actively attempting to colonize the nezumi under their control. You interrupted one of their initial outings. Apart from trying to warn you after they surprised you at home, I’ve had nothing to do with your current list of troubles.”

  “Then what do we have to talk about? My problem is with soratami.”

  “I’m getting to it. You have to start at the beginning. Stop interrupting.” The little kami resumed pacing. “Where was I?”

  “You were talking about the kami attacks.” Michiko stepped away from the wall.

  “Ah, yes. Something you have become keenly interested in lately.”

  “I am seeking the cause of the Kami War, Mochi. If you answer no other questions for me today, answer that one. The killing and strife must stop.”

  Princess Michiko continued to impress and amuse Toshi with her innocence and drive. You had to be rich and pure of heart to be so concerned about others. He surreptitiously checked her wrists. Another few days and she’d work free of those ropes.

  “Patience, Princess. Right. Now, the soratami have been working to expand their influence over the rest of Kamigawa. They’ve also become increasingly active in your father’s kingdom. Twenty years ago, your father did something terrible. Me and the soratami … my soratami, who have nothing to do with Toshi … have been working to undo it ever since.”

  “On the night I was born,” Michiko said haltingly, “they say my father performed a ritual.”

  “Indeed. And the ritual performed in conjunction with your birth made a great crime possible.”

  “Was he going to sacrifice her?” Toshi heard his question bounce around the inside of the cave as Michiko and Mochi stared at him.

  “What? That would be terrible, wouldn’t it? That’s all I’m saying.”

  “The crime was my birth,” Michiko said bitterly. “I was an event to him, not a child. I might as well have been a solstice or an eclipse.”

  “No, Princess.” Mochi’s face was earnest. “Never. You are as important to Konda as anything in this world.”

  “You are kind, but that is simply untrue. He keeps the most important thing behind locked doors and never strays from it.”

  “There is so much you do not understand, Michiko. Here. Let me show you.”

  “How can you—”

  But Michiko never finished her question. Instead, Mochi opened his mouth wide and the interior of the cave once more disappeared in a blinding flash of moonlight.

  * * * * *

  The light receded and Michiko found herself floating below a mass of yellow clouds. Below her, the Daimyo’s tower sulked like a tombstone. She was not light, as she had been in Mochi’s previous vision, but possessed her own shape. She could feel her arms and legs, the weight of her robe against her skin, but she could not see herself, not even her eyelids.

  A break in the clouds formed, and Michiko heard Mochi’s voice whispering in her mind.