Pearl-Ear turned back to the princess. Michiko was wide eyed, stunned, and muttering to herself. She listened closely and heard the princess praying to her father.

  The fox-woman looked at her brother, and the amusement was completely gone from his eyes. Sharp-Ear shrugged helplessly.

  “My father,” Michiko said, her eyes suddenly alive and earnest. “My father must be told. He’ll know what to do.”

  It was a girlish thing to say, a child’s wish for her parent to make everything right. Lady Pearl-Ear wasn’t sure if Daimyo Konda was capable of that, but the princess was right about the one thing: the Daimyo must be told.

  “I agree, Michiko-hime. We must go to Daimyo Konda.”

  Michiko stopped, gaping as if she had only just noticed the foxfolk protecting her. “Yes. Let’s go now.”

  Another hideous shriek sounded from the meeting chamber, and a bloody sword flew out the door.

  “In a moment,” Sharp-Ear said.

  Lady Pearl-Ear nodded, and they cradled Michiko between them as the horrible hacking sounds went on, until the kami’s cries were no more.

  Sharp-Ear went with Lady Pearl-Ear and Michiko as far as he could, but the upper reaches of the Daimyo’s tower were off-limits to all but the most trusted of Konda’s court. As the sentries stood, impassively blocking the doorway with their crossed pikes, Sharp-Ear bid his sister and the princess farewell.

  “I shall be waiting for you in the great hall,” he said with a wink. He bowed low and added, “Majesty.”

  As he stood, Sharp-Ear’s eyes locked onto Pearl-Ear’s and he hunched his shoulders slightly, tilting his head. Her brother was a gadabout and an idler, but she knew he was concerned for her safety and for Michiko’s. If she asked him, he would stay close by to hear her when she called.

  Instead, Pearl-Ear nodded almost imperceptibly and flicked her eyes toward the staircase. Sharp-Ear narrowed his eyes, nodded back, and headed down the stairs.

  The sentries saluted and asked Lady Pearl-Ear to state her business.

  “I must see my father,” Michiko said. Her face was a sad porcelain mask, but only her wide eyes showed over her folded paper fan. “The most terrible thing has happened—”

  “The princess has come fresh from the assembly,” Lady Pearl-Ear broke in smoothly. “She has an urgent report for his Lordship.”

  The sentries grunted and parted their spears. Lady Pearl-Ear stepped through and entered the antechamber as Michiko added, “Thank you” from behind her fan.

  The main chamber was lined with the Daimyo’s retainers, hardened and trusted warriors all. They stood shoulder to shoulder, unmoving, their eyes hidden beneath woven wicker hats. Not a single head raised as Lady Pearl-Ear and Michiko entered the room, not a single robe rustled.

  The same soratami from the assembly stood at the far end of the room, blocking the entrance to the upper chamber as he had on the night of Michiko’s birth. To a casual observer, the moonfolk were all of indiscriminate age and gender, but Pearl-Ear had been watching this one for twenty years now, and her senses all told her he was male.

  The moonfolk bowed before Michiko, but regarded Lady Pearl-Ear with cold, pale eyes.

  “His lordship is not receiving visitors at this time.”

  “Perhaps.” Lady Pearl-Ear’s fur bristled. “However, this is no social visit, but his daughter bringing news of great importance.”

  The soratami sneered as if Michiko’s news could not possibly merit the slightest attention from her father. This particular moonfolk was a constant obstacle to any who sought the Daimyo. In her decades of service in the tower, Pearl-Ear had never once gone straight in to see Konda, but instead had endured a long series of clipped and frustrating discussions with the sullen ambassador.

  “Soratami-san.” Michiko stepped forward and bowed from the waist. “I must speak to my father now.”

  Lady Pearl-Ear watched him weigh the situation. He had been at the assembly, so he most likely knew what Michiko was here to recount. The Daimyo had often brushed his daughter aside when the spirits were active, but she was still his daughter and a princess of the realm.

  “The Daimyo is not receiving visitors,” the moonfolk said at last. “But wait here, Princess, and I shall fetch him for you.”

  Without waiting for a reply, the moonfolk turned and ascended the stairs at the far end of the room. Pearl-Ear watched the pale, ghostly form disappear into the darkness, but she could still hear his feather-light steps on the stone.

  Several long, silent moments passed. Then, the Daimyo’s powerful voice rang out.

  “Clear the chamber.”

  The retainers hesitated only for a moment, then mustered into two long lines and marched with machinelike precision out of the room.

  Pearl-Ear swallowed, preparing herself for the Daimyo’s arrival. Sending the soldiers away was a sign of trust and respect, but she couldn’t help thinking that it also prevented anyone from witnessing any exchanges between father and daughter. If Michiko revealed any secrets, none but Pearl-Ear and the moonfolk ambassador would hear.

  Konda’s tread came down the darkened stairs, and then the Daimyo himself swept into the room. Lady Pearl-Ear bowed and she heard Michiko do the same beside her. The kitsune envoy centered her balance, took a deep breath, and faced the Daimyo.

  Konda appeared exactly the same as he had been on the night of Michiko’s birth. His face was still smooth but slightly weathered, on the verge of wrinkling. His white hair was still bright and healthy, bound into a top-knot under a skullcap. His keen almond eyes still floated insouciantly in his head, drifting from side to side and from top to bottom like blind fish in a bowl. He was surrounded by a pale nimbus of light that might have been an effect of the torchlight behind him. His face was animated, robust, alive with power and focus. Only his wandering eyes hinted at the furious churning of the Daimyo’s innermost thoughts.

  “Michiko,” he called sharply. Lately, he bore Michiko’s company with a definite sense of disinterest. Today, however, he spread his arms wide and beckoned Michiko in, his face turned toward her even as his eyes wandered about the room. Except for the expression on his face and the tilt of his head, he seemed every inch the figure of a welcoming, nurturing father.

  “My Lord Daimyo.” To her credit, Michiko maintained a dignity befitting a princess. Pearl-Ear knew that she would have preferred to run headlong into Konda’s arms and tell him what she had seen in one long-winded rush of words and tears. Instead, she approached her father slowly and allowed herself to be enveloped by his long, sinewy arms.

  As he hugged his daughter, Konda’s pupils wafted up and back, as if trying to look over his own shoulder without moving his head. Lady Pearl-Ear followed his line of sight and realized he was staring at the darkened doorway and the stairway beyond. She shuddered, remembering what Konda kept at the top of those stairs.

  “My dear.” Konda released his daughter and held her by the shoulders. “I have already heard of the attack on the assembly. Were you harmed?”

  “No, my lord. Lady Pearl-Ear and her brother were swift to protect me.”

  “Lady Pearl-Ear has always been swiftest when protecting you.” The Daimyo glanced over at Pearl-Ear. “But this is the first I’ve heard of a brother.”

  “My lord. Sharp-Ear was here for the assembly,” Pearl-Ear said.

  “Hah. And I can gather he is not here to stay.”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Well, then, I shall have to reward Sharp-Ear of the kitsune-bito before he returns to his people.”

  “That is not necessary, my lord.” Pearl-Ear thought, Nor is it wise. His head is swelled enough.

  “Sharp-Ear is the reason I came to you, father.” Michiko stepped forward and took her father’s hand. “He says that his village on the edge of the forest is under attack. Even the most common and benign household kami are becoming hostile.”

  The Daimyo’s face clouded. “Regrettable,” he said. “But not unexpected. The kami intrusions have been growing more frequent and more violent for weeks now.”

  “But it’s not right,” Michiko said. “The people, our people and Lady Pearl-Ear’s alike, have always revered the spirits. We pray to them for blessings and guidance. Why do they harm us?”

  Lady Pearl-Ear shifted her balance uncomfortably. She could see flashes of Lady Yoshino in Michiko, and unless his strange new eyes didn’t function at all, so could Daimyo Konda.

  The lord of the tower smiled, but under his wandering eyes the expression was anything but comforting.

  “Why?” He echoed gently. “That is a question we all want answered. I believe the kami are reacting to something new and powerful.” He extended his hands, raising them to the roof. “This tower, this kingdom, has endured, prospered, and succeeded beyond anything Kamigawa has known before.” He lowered his hands and placed them on his daughter’s shoulders.

  “The kami for our kingdom must be great indeed,” he said. “A shining, powerful beacon of order and hope. I believe the other spirits are reacting to it, and us, as the other tribes reacted to me when I first set out to unite them. They are suspicious of this new power and attack out of unreasoning fear and a desperate need to preserve their own status.

  “But do not worry, my daughter. For a time, there will be conflict and even bloodshed until the scales rebalance and the spirit world accepts our own kami’s preeminence … just as the warlords and bandit kings came to accept our word as law.

  “Until then, take heart in the support of Terashi of the Sun and The Myojin of Cleansing Fire. These spirits have already accepted the truth and will never forsake us.”

  The Daimyo smiled, his eyes vacillating. He held Michiko’s at arm’s length, where she stood with an expression of uncertainty mixed with awe.

  “My lord is wise,” Pearl-Ear said evenly. “To know the mind of a spirit is beyond all but the wisest and most advanced of my people.”

  Konda turned his face to Pearl-Ear, but he did not release his daughter. “I know what I know,” he said.

  “My lord,” Lady Pearl-Ear said.

  The Daimyo lifted his hands and folded them into his sleeves. He half-turned on the stairs and ascended a single step. “I have a kingdom to look after. If there was nothing else?”

  Lady Pearl-Ear bowed. “There is one thing, my lord. My brother has brought disturbing news from my village. I would go to my people now, to reassure them of the Daimyo’s conviction and dedication to our shared future.”

  Konda shrugged. “Of course. I will have a mounted escort—”

  “Father,” Michiko broke in. “Riko-one has invited me to visit the Academy and make use of their archives.”

  The Daimyo scowled, his brow casting a shadow over his wandering eyes. “And?”

  “I wish to go.”

  “Out of the question.”

  “Why? If I am to take my place at your side someday, I must learn all I can. Lady Pearl-Ear says that on a daily basis.”

  “And you should listen to your teacher. There is more than enough for you to learn and be inside the tower walls.”

  “But—”

  “Do not argue with the Daimyo,” Lady Pearl-Ear cut in. “It is unseemly for a daughter and inexcusable for a princess.”

  Michiko’s face reddened. She clenched her jaw and bowed.

  “Forgive me, father.”

  Konda fixed his dour face on his daughter’s as his eyes floated from side to side. “You may leave me now.”

  Lady Pearl-Ear stepped forward, took Michiko’s hand, and guided the princess back. “A moment, my lord. In light of the kami attack inside the tower, I will have Princess Michiko focus on her archery training.”

  Konda grunted. “Very good. She should be able to defend herself, if need be. Who will be her instructor?”

  “I have retained the services of a yabusame expert. He has been known to have novice students in the saddle and splitting targets at a full gallop in a matter of weeks.”

  Konda ascended another step, his face turned up into the darkness at the top of the stairs. “That is acceptable. In two weeks’ time I will attend my daughter’s lessons to see how she is progressing.”

  “We will be ready to impress you, my lord.”

  Without a further word or glance, the Daimyo went back up the stairs into the darkness.

  Pearl-Ear squeezed Michiko’s shoulder and silenced her with a sharp look. She hurried the princess out through the antechamber and into the main stairwell of the tower.

  When they were several flights away from the sentries and alone on the stairs, Michiko exploded, “Why did you do that, Lady Pearl-Ear? I don’t want to stay here and practice archery while you—”

  “Princess,” Pearl-Ear said sternly. “I have had to correct your impertinence once today. If I am obliged to do so again, your punishment will make archery practice seem like a vacation at the hot springs.”

  Michiko sulked down the next two flights of stairs. Finally, Pearl-Ear said, “You feel slighted, Princess?”

  The Daimyo’s daughter regarded Lady Pearl-Ear suspiciously. “I do. If the kami attacks are happening everywhere, then anywhere is as safe as here. Riko and Choryu said the wizard archives can help.”

  Pearl-Ear prodded Michiko with her elbow. “And?”

  “And I wanted to see the academy. I’ve only heard stories and seen paintings, but Riko says it’s even more breathtaking in person. All the buildings floating on the waterfall, and the clouds overhead. …”

  “Riko,” Pearl-Ear mused. “Your friend from the academy.”

  “Yes, Riko. My friend from the academy.”

  “Studying to be a wizard herself.”

  “Yes. She’s going to be a great wizard someday.”

  “And in the meantime, she studies history, alchemy, artifice?”

  “Sometimes. She studies lots of things. What are you getting at?”

  “Potions, incantations, magical gemstones. The life of a student is full of novelty, isn’t it? What else does Riko study?”

  Michiko stopped and crossed her arms. “You’re just avoiding the question.”

  “No, Princess, you are. What else does Riko study?”

  “Arcane languages.” Michiko leveled her eyes defiantly at Pearl-Ear. “Calligraphy. Meditation. Tidal rituals.”

  Pearl-Ear sighed. “Archery?”

  “Riko is the best archer in her class.” Michiko blinked. “Wait. …”

  “Someone like that … a gifted archer, a fellow student … would be quite useful to the Daimyo’s daughter as she studied her bow skills, wouldn’t it?”

  “I can train with Riko while you’re gone?”

  “As was always my intent. Do you think I’d leave you with no one to talk to? You’d go mad and take half the tower with you.”

  “But you,” Michiko began. “You said you knew a yabusame expert. Riko shoots on foot.”

  “I do know a yabusame expert. You stood huddled between him and me while the kami attacked the assembly.”

  Michiko’s eyes opened wide. “Sharp-Ear? Your brother trains mounted archers?”

  “He does. And as I said, he can train you to competence in a very short time. Riko is there to sweeten the bargain, but she may learn something from him as well.” Lady Pearl-Ear rose to her full height, bringing her eyes as close to level with Michiko’s as she could manage, the effect powerful despite the difference in their sizes.

  “I swore to your mother that I would always protect you. Stay here and be safe, behind your father’s walls, guarded by your father’s retainers, accompanied by your closest friend and my closest relative. I will not be long. And when I return, I hope to have a better idea of why the spirits have turned against us. Why they have focused their rage on your father’s kingdom.”

  Michiko paused, then bowed deeply before Lady Pearl-Ear. “Forgive me, sensei,” she said. “When you return, I shall have learned enough to impress you as well as my father.”

  Pearl-Ear placed her soft, furred fingers under Michiko’s chin and lifted her face. “You have never disappointed me, child. Now, to your chambers. I will collect Sharp-Ear and tell him he has a new job in the tower. We will come to inspect your equipment and your attitude before supper.”

  Michiko smiled and went swiftly down the stairs, gathering her long robes in her fists as she ran.

  Pearl-Ear watched until the princess disappeared through a doorway several stories below. Wearily, she sighed again and turned, climbing back up to the next highest landing. When she reached it, she whistled sharply.

  “Come out, Sharp-Ear.”

  The grinning male kitsune-bito rose from the shadows behind an ornate decorative chest. “Did I hear right?” he said. “Did you just volunteer me for government work?”

  “I need your help, little brother. Come with me.” Pearl-Ear turned and slipped through the doorway next to the ornate chest.

  Sharp-Ear chuckled. “And mother always said I was the sneaky one.”

  * * * * *

  Pearl-Ear lit candles and chanted until her brother slipped into the room. Without a word, Sharp-Ear picked up a taper and joined in, working his way toward his sister. They met in the middle of the room, nodded to each other, and blew out their tapers.

  “I am going home,” Pearl-Ear said.

  “So I have heard. But pray, what do you expect to learn there that will help the princess here?”

  Pearl-Ear retreated to the far corner of the room and sat cross-legged in the center of a semicircle of flickering candles. “There is more at stake than just the princess.”

  “That’s true,” Sharp-Ear said, “but that isn’t why you’re going.” He glided across the room and sat facing Pearl-Ear. “Everyone says you’d have come home to stay years ago if not for the princess. They say she’s your obsession rather than your student.”

  Pearl-Ear closed her eyes. “And you, brother? What do you say?”