Tails High Page 8

  The crane looked loftily down at Sura. “Along a road, yes.” She gave an expressive sniff. “You are hardly going to be allowed to conceal yourselves amongst an official monastery delegation.”

  Sura plunged a hand into her robes, and fished out a folded paper – the letter Reiju had handed to them as they left the Tosukingyo manor.

  “Oh yes we are!” The fox excitedly hauled the cart and pointed it towards the west. “Come on! Quick!”

  The Spirit Hunters trundled their cart rapidly off towards the western trails – towards the great round mountain ahead. Chiri looked back toward the crane spirit, and bowed a goodbye.

  “Thank you!”

  The bird heaved a weary sigh and shook out her wings, grumbling as she stalked back off towards the trees.

  “Why does breakfast always have to be the most complicated meal of the day?”

  The trackless hill led up through folds and deep grassy dells. Other figures began to appear on converging trails – yamabushi with head scarves, long spears and naginatas, and great heavy handcarts filled with sakē barrels. They waved to the Spirit Hunters, calling out in welcome – chatting as they joined together on the trail. Soon they were surrounded by yamabushi in their hundreds, all cheerfully heading off along the mountain road.

  There were other travellers – some from Shino shrines and Buddhist temples. Sohei – Buddhist warrior monks dressed in black armour and white cowls – brought their own offerings to the festival. Official representatives from schools of martial arts came – each followed by porters carrying sakē barrels.

  More and more pilgrims joined the march, coming from other mountains far away. They were scattered for many many ri all along the long, bright, sunny trail.

  Senior yamabushi wore coloured, knotted tassels and natty little round caps. Sura flitted over to one of the most magnificent specimens she could find, and showed him the letter from Reiju’s temple. The man seemed delighted. He provided a white cloth to wrap about the Spirit Hunters’ sakē barrel and painted it with sigils dedicating it to the mountain deities. The Spirit Hunters joined the procession, sliding their own cart between a host of other offerings. They marched on their way surrounded by hundreds of friendly warriors, surging merrily onwards along the mountain path.

  Chiri climbed onto the cart to make certain that Chōisai was safe and secure. She winced as she caught a whiff of the water inside the barrel.

  “Oh dear! I think Chōisai chan has had a few accidents in here. Perhaps we should change the water?”

  Sura climbed up to peer in at the little fish. Chōisai seemed happy enough – if rather bored.

  “Well we filled it from the castle drains. That probably wasn’t the best start.” Sura sniffed and made a face. “Eww! Yeah, that is seriously funky…” She slid the barrel lid partly into place to keep the fish well hidden. “This temple up ahead must have a spring. We can swap his water out there.” Sura patted the barrel in satisfaction. “We’re waay off the main road. There’ll be lots of drinking tonight. We can slip away downhill, reach the river – and coast back downstream to the carp manor tomorrow.”

  It sounded like a good plan. Kuno was pleasantly surprised.

  “Excellent! Yes – excellent!”

  Sura gave an expressive wave of her hand. “’Course it is! What could possibly go wrong?”

  Kuno’s face fell. He was about to speak, when suddenly gongs began to boom and ring. The yamabushi set up a great clamour, singing loudly and joyously. The great parade moved onward, picking up speed, heading for a nearby peak that glimmered in the golden sun.

  Down in a rural valley, Hako and two of her ninja trudged through a broad rice paddy that had been harvested and drained. Their feet squelched in the mud, sending clouds of flies and midges whirring all around. They battled forward, hastening to reach a nearby country lane.

  A handcart containing a huge old rain barrel was trundling along the road. Hako and her men fought up out of the mud. Hako lost a sandal in the muck, hopping awkwardly as she came up onto the road.

  Her two men – dressed in plain robes and straw hats – ran after the cart and brought it to a halt. The four peasants who had been towing the cart fled into the bushes. Hako approached the cart and peered inside the barrel – but it was empty except for a few bucket loads of water. There was no fish – and no Spirit Hunters. But a folded piece of paper had been pinned upon the barrel, with a fish painted on it. Hako snatched the note and opened it, reading it out aloud.

  “It’s us again, so you’re outclassed!

  You ninja guys can kiss my…”

  There was a cartoon picture accompanying the text. The fox’s handiwork was unmistakable. Hako crumpled the paper in anger.

  “Most disrespectful!” The ninja hurtled the paper away and walked out into the road. She paced, feeling a great blazing surge of annoyance.

  “Foxes! I hate foxes!”

  One of her men had manage to run the peasants to earth. He came stamping back, thoroughly displeased.

  “They say a fox woman paid them to take the water keg down this road. We have been following false tracks!”

  The second man turned to Hako. “Do we kill the peasants?”

  Hako glared at the man in scorn. “No, fool! They are Lord Raiden’s peasants.” She rubbed at her temples, tying to think clearly. “They have sewn false trails. I had forgotten just how irritating the fox woman can be!”

  The first ninja looked back towards the valley. Several tracks and paths meandered from the farmlands. The man gave a frown.

  “Which trail do we follow?”

  Hako turned to look back down the road.

  “They wouldn’t be foolish enough to try using the main road – surely…?” The ninja woman folded her arms. “But the fox may realize that I know she is too smart to use the main road! Then again, she is a fox! So she would know that I would know that she knows we know she’s too smart to use the main road…”

  She closed her eyes and winced, rubbing at her temples. One of her men looked at her in concern.

  “Leader – is anything wrong?”

  “I am getting a headache. Nothing more.” Hako jerked her robes tight, and straightened the brim of her hat. “I will search the main road. You two back-track those last peasants and find out where they came from. Then recall any groups that are following false trails.” She pointed a finger at her men. “Only the false trails!”

  “Yes, leader!”

  “Go!”

  The two male ninja ran back along the road. Hako watched them go, then turned to contemplate the surrounding trees.

  There were yet more farms and farm paths – many leading away into the Raiden heartland. The woman turned and thought – and saw the most difficult possible terrain nearby – the steep hills that lead up into the mountain wilderness.

  Hako gave a resigned, tired sigh.

  “Foxes. I hate foxes!”

  She plodded off the road. Hako hopped, cursing her single sandal – then decided to go barefoot. She threw away her remaining sandal, cursed at all Spirit Hunters in general, then tramped her way uphill in the sizzling midday sun.

  Somewhere in the afternoon, the great precession of sakē carts, yamabushi and eager visitors reached a settlement high up in the mountains. The roadway led up a rocky outcrop to a gruff stone temple up above.

  They were far outside the Raiden lands, deep in the fastness of the yamabushi – a territory of wild landscapes and strange warriors. The temple was perched at the side of a glorious, deep gorge. A high cliff across the gorge was home to a glittering white waterfall. The temple walls looked out across peaks and valleys, grass and trees, blue skies and gentle, drifting clouds.

  Terraced fields lined the lower slopes, with young men running through them to welcome their visitors. The temple gates swung open, and gongs boomed. Armed yamabushi flooded out to cheer the new arrivals, guiding them along the last steps of the road. Men lined the battlements, lifting spears and banners, giving a joyous s
hout of welcome as the sakē convoy finally arrived.

  The Spirit Hunters looked about themselves in amazement as they passsed through the temple gates. The place was a fortress, with great sloping walls of rock atop steep shaven hill slopes. But the main bailey inside was absolutely alive with life. Yamabushi played drums and danced joyously. Streamers and model hawks had been placed all about the buildings. Flowers grew and the women of the temple were all dressed in bright colours with blossoms woven into their hair. Monks shouted welcome, children played… And everywhere all about them there was the delicious scent of roasting meat – sizzling duck, woodcock, boar, pheasant, chicken and fresh venison. Sura’s face lit up with delight: she had found a kindred folk at last.

  A great, broad field was home to wide awnings and pavilions. Lord Ishigi was there with banners, bodyguards and several of his most senior men, laughing and drinking with the yamabushi abbot. The yamabushi were ancient, far predating the Buddhist temples. It was no surprise that the ancient Ishigi clan had ties with the mountain warriors. Other lords had come – several colourful banners waved above the pavilions. Samurai were deep in conversation with yamabushi – often over brimming cups of sakē.

  A raised wooden stage at one end of the huge compound was now hosting the visiting samurai lords, high-ranked priests and abbots. The yamabushi abbot welcomed one and all with booming laughter, open arms and no regard for ceremony. Lord Ishigi stood with the abbot, presenting the man with an eccentric, beautifully glazed set of sakē cups. As Lord Ishigi looked off across the crowds, he caught sight of the flash of Sura’s orange tail. The man laughed, catching Sura’s eye and giving a slight bow. The fox gave an elaborate bow of welcome in return.

  Lord Ishigi turned to formally greet a young samurai lord from the south. Kuno saw the senior clan lords up on stage, and gave a nod of satisfaction.

  “Excellent! Lord Ishigi and a dozen other grandees. If the Raiden wish to keep face, they will make no scene here.”

  Chiri helped to guide their wagon over into the shade of the nearby stables. She ducked as a horse swished at her with its tail.

  “Shall we reveal the presence of Chōisai to the yamabushi? They might help us protect him.”

  “No.” Tonbo took his tetsubo from the cart, and felt far happier with the mighty weapon in hand. “This temple borders a Raiden province. They might owe favours to the Raiden lord.”

  Sura helped to order the cart. She kept a sharp watch upon the crowds, her senses sharp and mind always at work.

  “Just keep it calm. We have an extraction plan – we’ll stick to it.” She saw a great many sakē kegs being ranked in the nearby sheds. “Hide Chōisai’s barrel with the others, but make sure we can reach it. I’ll go see what the best chances are for our quick exit.” The fox signed to Chiri to join her. “Come on! Let’s make a show!”

  Sura shimmered and changed into her half-and-half form, all fire and flash and fur. She dug into her backpack, found her tall eboshi cap and threw on her official robes. She dusted, pulled and preened herself into shape – then frowned at Daitanishi and gave the rock a swift polish with her sleeve. The fox nodded in satisfaction and took up her long spear.

  Chiri changed into her half-animal form – fur gleaming purest white. Kuno helped her don her best robe, then assisted her to put on a neat little folded eboshi cap with beautiful lavender laces. She settled her natagama in her belt, gathered up her elementals and hastened to join Sura in threading off into the crowd.

  Sura and Chiri moved over to a short, powerful yamabushi who seemed to be in charge of access to the main stage. The man took one look at the two animal spirits, and shone with delight. He praised Sura’s spear – recognising the blade. The man ushered the fox and rat spirit up onto the stage where they could pay their respects and show their credentials to the laughing abbot.

  Tonbo and Kuno watched them go. Sura was at her best, chatting with the yamabushi and admiring their mountain home. Using an incoming stream of pack horses as cover, Tonbo and Kuno wearily heaved Chōisai’s barrel down from their cart. They carried it awkwardly over to a nearby row of offering barrels. Here they found a place behind the main row, well occupied by other barrels. Tonbo wedged their barrel in amongst several others, then drew off the wooden lid.

  Chōisai seemed to have been sleeping – soothed by the rocking of the handcart as it travelled up the roads. The great shimmering fish swam up to the light, and began eagerly opening and closing his mouth. Tonbo fished about in his pack and found some fish food – some of Gujo’s very best. He sprinkled the food upon the water, and young Chōisai happily gulped it down. Tonbo added yet more food, and watched the child in approval.

  “The carp spirits are no fools. This is easier than feeding a human child.”

  Kuno was quite exhausted from towing the heavy cart all across the mountains. He wearily wiped his brow.

  “Forgive me, my good friend – but the difficulty of family excursions may overweigh the ease of care…”

  They were bone tired, and there was no sense in hiding the barrel and then hovering close for anyone to see. Happy that the barrel was safely anonymous, Tonbo left the barrel lid partially ajar so that the young carp spirit had some light. He and Kuno then headed over to a booth nearby where a group of yamabushi women were handing out some very welcome soup, rice and tea. Both men sat down on stools and eased their feet in their sandals, gratefully drinking their tea.

  Behind them, a well-meaning team of yamabushi arrived behind the sheds to bring order to the sakē barrels. They moved about quietly and swiftly, setting the lid upon Chōisai’s barrel and carrying it aside. They brought together barrels from all of the various donors and ranked them side by side in order to make one great, glorious display. Thoroughly satisfied, the yamabushi dusted each other off, admired their work, then trotted off to seize some food from the booths nearby.

  A new gaggle of visitors came plodding in through the gates, to be greeted by a rush of yamabushi leading them aside to seats in the shade. From deep in the crowd of new arrivals, Hako the ninja kept her hat covering her face and her head down. She moved in to mingle with the mob, keeping eyes sharp and ears open as she moved into the temple grounds.

  Chapter 5

  Mounting the stage, Chiri and Sura looked out across the great, colourful temple of the yamabushi. It was eccentric and starkly beautiful, with rough wooden halls and twisted trees. The waterfall from the nearby cliff made an astonishing backdrop to the temple walls, glittering with rainbows in the sun. Sura looked up at it in delight, then forged her way forward to pay her respects to the temple leadership.

  The mountain abbot was a huge, bluff, hard-drinking man – square shouldered and lavish with his laughter. He wore the same work-a-day robes as his men, and kept a long bladed spear close at hand – the haft decorated fox-style, with russet lacquer. He was surrounded by armed and armoured yamabushi – a thoroughly merry cut-throat crew. A few elementals zoomed past – friends of the mountain shugenja. Bifuuko and Daitanishi peered about themselves in interest, delighted at the company.

  The abbot rose from his place as he saw the fox and rat approach. He opened up his arms, laughing loud, his voice booming out across the merry noise of the crowd.

  “Welcome, welcome Priestess Kitsune! And you bring us a Nezumi as well?” The man was clearly a rogue. “It is a pleasure to see two such beautiful visitors!”

  Sura was delighted by the man’s manner. She bowed, her long tail sticking out behind her.

  “Honoured abbot, we regret that we can only manage a brief stay. In the name of the Sword Temple, we have come merely to beg a cart and a pair of fast cart horses for our journey to the border.”

  “And you shall have them! But not yet! Not yet! First, there is the sakē tasting!” The abbot eagerly put one huge hand upon Sura’s back. “Sweet sakē, hot sakē, cold sakē, cloudy sakē, clear sakē…”

  Sura pricked up her ears in interest.

  “Oooh!”

  Chiri dug a
n elbow into Sura’s ribs. The fox made a face of regret at being so faultlessly driven by her sense of duty, and gave a sigh.

  “Alas, honoured abbot…”

  The huge abbot was hearing none of it. He took Chiri and Sura underneath his arms.

  “Nonsense! To have warrior women – animal spirits - appear at such a time is auspicious! Fox and rat – pillars of the isles!” The abbot called out to his men. “We will drink!”

  The monks, maidens and samurai upon the platform cheered! More men all around the stage roared in approval. Chiri looked at the throng in slight dismay.

  “Do you not fear drunkenness and disorder, my lord?”

  By way of answer, the abbot bellowed in delight.

  “A yamabushi fears nothing under heaven! Liberation from the self is a step towards enlightenment!” The man roared with utter joy. “No one can leave until every cask in the yard has been broached!”

  There was apparent no escaping the mighty binge. And with such a profusion of sakē barrels, it would take many hours to breech every one of them – even with such a crowd. Sura looked out across the barrels running along the side of the temple courtyard – and then suddenly stood stiff with alarm. All of the barrels were being manhandled into ranks. There were none under the shed where they had left Chōisai. Sura stared, and leaned down to whisper into Chiri’s tall ears.

  “Which one is Chōisai’s barrel?”

  Chiri blinked, appalled. She could suddenly see Kuno and Tonbo staring aghast at the rank of barrels, utterly at a loss.

  “The monks have mixed up the barrels!”

  Fox and rat stood and stared, trying to plan just what the hell to do next.

  A woman strode from the crowd to present herself at the stage, climbing up to bow boldly to the abbot. A compact, muscular woman with a hawk’s eyes and thin scar running down her left cheek, she bellowed so that her words could be heard above the crowd.