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  She fell back rather than trying to run, tumbling over and turning the fall into a roll, with the stone tightly clutched against her chest. She had been afraid that it was some kind of talisman of evil and would hurt her when she touched it, but it wasn’t, and hadn’t. In fact, it felt warm and smooth in her hand, as if it welcomed her “rescue,” as she used the momentum of her roll to spring to her feet and whirl to face the witch again.

  What she saw, though, was nothing like the elegant, beautiful courtesan who had stood there. The face, skull-like and a cadaverous white, had baleful yellow eyes that glared at her with hate that had a life of its own. In place of the elegant robes, she was swathed in garments the color of dried blood, and the body inside those garments promised not pleasure, but the grave.

  The only part of her that was the same was the long, long white hair, hair that, unbound as it was now, was easily twice as long as she was tall. Like a spider stuck in the middle of its own web, she was trapped in her hair, trapped by the now-visible demon heads that held the hair tight, while she screamed out unintelligible syllables and her claws—not hands anymore, but nasty, scabrous things of bone and talon—moved to form shapes that made Katya’s stomach churn. Even though she had no idea what the witch was invoking, no knowledge of her magic, those sketched shapes somehow twisted the space around the witch into something utterly wrong.

  The demon heads continued to howl, and swarmed the red-haired woman. Katya moved in, swatting furiously with her sword in one hand, the stone in the other. With a look of intense concentration on her face, the red-haired woman suddenly unwound the sash from her arms, whipped one end of it over her head in a circle, and let fly.

  The sash flew across the distance between her and the witch as surely as any arrow from the bow of Katya’s sister.

  The instant it touched the witch, it twisted in midair as if obeying a command, and as if being manipulated by unseen hands. One end whipped around and around the witch’s hands, binding them, mummifying them. The other slung around her neck, then continued to wrap around and around her head, sealing her mouth, until all that could be seen of that wreck of a face were the glaring, hate-filled eyes.

  And the moment the woman in blue had been rendered immobile—the demon heads turned on her.

  They swarmed her.

  Like sharks converging on one of their number, wounded and bleeding, they moved in on her, teeth clattering angrily. Like sharks, they began tearing at her—the witch struggled and staggered backward, struggling with her bonds, flailing at the heads with her bound hands. Blood spattered the wooden floor as the demonic teeth found their marks.

  The red-haired woman shouted a single word, and clapped her hands, and a whirling hole opened in the air above the witch, like a whirlpool in reverse, except that in the heart of this creation was a glow of ominous green. The red-haired woman bent to the pile of her garments and snatched up her fan, holding it closed, and pointing it at the witch. For the last time she flicked it open and made a complicated twisting motion with it, the hole became a whirlwind that surrounded the witch and all her hideous little helpers, and in the time it took to gasp, sucked them into itself—

  Then it spun itself closed.

  And winked out of existence, taking the witch and all with it.

  Katya sat down abruptly, the stone still glowing softly in her hand.

  Silence filled the wide wooden room, as the splotches of blood faded from the floor, leaving no sign that a struggle had taken place except for the condition of the two that remained. The red-haired woman dropped the fan on her clothing again, and pushed her hair back from her face with both hands.

  Only then did Katya notice the furry, pointed ears poking up from her ally’s hair….and the bushy, red-furred, white-tipped tail that had been half-concealed by the long fall of the red hair down her back.

  Before she could wonder if she had merely exchanged one demon for another, the fox-woman knelt on the floor, rummaged through her clothing, and came up with an elaborately carved box. With shaking hands, she pried it open and shook something small out. Stumbling to the side of the warlord, who still stood like a statue, she pressed the object—a small, glowing stone, much like the larger one that Katya still held—to his forehead. Katya bit back an exclamation as the stone in her hand suddenly came to life, flaring with light and power that turned it from blue-black to white in an instant. There was a brief flash, and then the warlord blinked.

  With a sob of relief, the fox-woman flung herself into his arms. “She almost had you!” she sobbed. “She almost took your spirit! It was in the stone!”

  “Shh, my brave one, my dancing warrior,” he soothed, stroking her hair, then her ears. “It is over. You saved me. You and—”

  Then he looked over the fox-woman’s head and seemed to see Katya for the first time.

  “Tamiko-san,” he said carefully. “Who is this foreign devil sitting on the floor of my house?”

  Katya cleared her throat. “You might not believe this, most honorable Prince,” she said carefully. “But I am the seventh daughter of the King of the Sea….”

  Tamiko resumed her garments, the garb of the courtesan of a prince, and with them the illusion that made her seem like any other mortal. Her hair changed from red to black as well; the warlord watched all this with a calm that told Katya he had seen this particular transformation not once, but many times before. Katya found this reassuring, since it seemed to her that this meant there were no secrets between the warlord and his nonhuman companion. For her part, Katya resumed her own illusion, then Tamiko fetched robes to clothe her. Only then were servants summoned, food and tea brought, and full explanations on Katya’s part made. She was content to wait to hear just what it was that Tamiko was, how she had come to be with the shogun, and why she had defended him.

  Through it all, the warlord listened, silently, courteously, only asking an occasional question. Finally, when Katya was done, he nodded.

  “I believe you, Princess,” he said gravely. “I would have believed you anyway, even had you not aided Tamiko in saving my life.” He chuckled. “My family is prone to attracting the attention of the Spirit Realms. My great-grandfather was rewarded with this very palace and our lands and titles as a reward for his demon-slaying. My father was notable for laying ghosts to rest. All but one, that is. That one he returned to her slumbering body, broke the spell that held her, and wedded her. And me—” He smiled at Tamiko. “I seem to have won the heart of a kitsune.”

  Tamiko blushed, and politely hid her smile behind her hand. It was hard to believe that this shy and delicate creature had been the dancing warrior not so long ago. “I came to make mischief in the house of the son of a ghost,” she murmured. “I stayed because instead of mischief, I found my love.”

  “So I believe you, Sea Princess,” the shogun continued. “Tamiko has said that without your aid, she would not have been able to overcome the witch. For that…there are no words adequate to express my thanks.”

  “What was she doing, this witch?” Katya asked. “All that I know is she was leaving a string of men who were her puppets behind her.”

  Tamiko sighed. “She was stealing their spirits, putting one of her tame demons in its place, and putting the souls in that stone.” She pointed to the glowing stone on the floor mat between them. “From those souls, she gained magic power. From the demons doing her bidding in place of men, she gained temporal power. There is no telling, now that she is gone, but I believe that she intended to make herself Empress here eventually. Perhaps even set herself up as the rival to the Good Goddess.” Tamiko shrugged. “If your words are true, and the seabirds were crying ‘doom,’ I can well believe that. If the Good Goddess abandoned us…”

  She and her warlord exchanged a somber look.

  “But it didn’t happen,” Katya pointed out. “My father takes a dim view of that sort of thing going on at the border of his ocean. If I had failed, he would have come himself, with allies.” She raised an eyebrow.
“With Godmothers, and more than one if he could. Even a would-be goddess should beware of Godmothers.”

  That made them both laugh. “Then perhaps,” suggested Tamiko, “I might speak to the Twelve-tailed Kitsune, the head of our clan, and she might find a way to keep your father better informed on the matters within Nippon than relying on the gossip of seabirds.”

  “That,” Katya said with satisfaction, “would be excellent. My father is always glad of allies, and it is one of the reasons he sends me out to be his eyes and ears, and sometimes his hands. But what about the spirits that are still in this stone?”

  “Ah,” the shogun said with a raised brow. “I think this is where I come in. I have arranged for all of us to take a journey on the morrow.”

  And so it was. The next day, three litters and an entourage embarked from the shogun’s palace. Runners went out beforehand, looking for men of rank and influence who had suddenly collapsed in the night. This had happened, of course, as the demons controlling them had been ripped from their bodies at the defeat of the witch. Each time one was found, the shogun offered to resolve the tragedy. As the son of the famous Ghost-hunter Prince, he was welcomed warmly by desperate and frightened families.

  Once in the presence of those families, the shogun soothed their fears while the kitsune went to work, taking the stone from Katya—for it seemed to be most “comfortable” in her presence—and releasing the spirit held within it back into its proper vessel.

  After a night of hospitality, they would move on. With every soul released, the stone grew dimmer, quieter.

  Finally there was only one left. And this was where they made a slight detour. The shogun diverted them all down a path through the forest, a path so overgrown that Katya wondered how he could find it. And yet, when they came to the end of the path, there, in the midst of forest that seemed to have never felt that presence of man—

  There was a Temple. And not merely a Temple, but an entire complex that included living spaces, smaller shrines, teaching rooms, halls for meditation, and several spaces for the training of martial arts. This was a place full almost to bursting with priests and monks.

  But before they could step onto the grounds of the Temple, a priest appeared before them, holding up his hand.

  “It devastates me to demand this of you, honorable visitors,” he said, “but only you, Prince, may go forward. I beg your companions to remain here.”

  The kitsune looked startled, the Prince frowned, and Katya felt as if she had been slapped.

  “Why?” Katya asked, making no effort to hide the fact that she felt insulted by this. The trek through the forest had been long and tiring and she had been a long time from open water….

  “It is not because you are female, valiant foreign devil,” the Priest said, with a smile that softened the unflattering term. “Nor is it because you are a foreign devil. It is because you are both creatures of magic, and your presence will disturb some delicate magical workings, I fear. That stone you bear, weakened though it is, certainly will affect those workings, and I doubt that you would care to leave it in another’s custody.”

  Katya blinked. “Oh,” she said, as Tamiko, who had been looking a bit irritated herself, relaxed. “I understand that completely. In that case—”

  “And in that case, perhaps you will honor us by accepting our hospitality here,” the Priest replied. And before they could blink, a swarm of young monks had assembled a pavilion, brought tea, and a delightful old scholar had come to ask them about their adventure.

  When they left, they did not go empty-handed. With them came six monks of a martial and magical order, and a magical craftsman.

  And within three more days, it was all over. The last spirit was restored to his body, the craftsman had replaced the stone in the statue where it belonged, and the six monks were installed in the shrine to guard it from any more thieves. The old man was retrieved from the village, and set up as the chief of the new order here.

  The shogun remained at the shrine while Tamiko escorted Katya to the sea coast, for the two women had become quite fond of each other over the past several days. They both had a passion for lovely things to wear that had left the poor Prince looking at them with bewilderment from time to time. And Katya was determined to learn as much about Nippon as possible. The next time she came here, she would be better prepared.

  “Now you must go, I suppose,” Tamiko sighed, as they both stood on the rocks above the water. Katya had already removed the lovely robes she had just about gotten used to wearing, and given them over to Tamiko’s servants. “You have done more than you expected, I think. My lord has the gratitude and loyalty of all of those you rescued. He had not before given any thought to power within the Emperor’s Court, but now…”

  She shrugged.

  “Oh, dear,” Katya said, feeling a little guilty now. “I didn’t mean to—” She flushed. “I know that you would rather live quietly with him.”

  “It is no matter,” Tamiko said dismissively. “It may be that he was fated to become more of a power, and this was merely one of many ways it might have come to be. Whatever happens, he and I will do what we must for the good of our people. But I have something for you.” The kitsune reached into her sash and brought out a little red paper bird.

  Now, since being in the company of Tamiko and the shogun, Katya had seen the kitsune fold squares of paper into dozens, if not hundreds, of shapes. It seemed to be a common pastime for the people of this place. Katya had even learned to fold a few herself.

  But she sensed that this little bird was something very different.

  “This,” said Tamiko, “is no ordinary origami bird. I have had it enchanted with a spell that will last as long as the bird itself does. You have told me that your father sends you to perilous places alone. This bird will serve as your messenger when no help is near. Unfold it and write your message, then fold it up and send it on its way by saying ‘Do my bidding, bear my word, then come you back my paper bird.’ It will fly to the one you want, unfold itself, then when the message is read, fold itself up again and fly back to you. It will also wait for an answer to be written on it before flying back.”

  Katya’s eyes went wide. This was no trivial magic!

  The kitsune smiled. “There is a bit more,” she said. “You need not send it to a specific person, for that person may take too long to arrive. You can imagine what kind of person or being you need—the nearest good magician, for instance, or the nearest of the Godmothers—the nearest bear-man or fox-woman. So long as you keep firmly in your heart the sort of help you need, the bird will find it. But you should keep it very safe and away from water. It is only paper, after all.”

  “Of course,” Katya agreed, then impulsively hugged her new friend. “This is a gift beyond price,” she whispered, as the kitsune returned her embrace. “I can never thank you enough.”

  “Nor I, you,” Tamiko countered. “After all, you saved my beloved. And do not try to tell me I could have done so myself! Did not the seabirds cry ‘doom’? Without you—” She shook her head, and pulled away. “I brought this as well,” she said, offering a little jar into which the bird could be slipped, and a stopper and wax to seal it with. “Until you find a better container, this will do.”

  “Clever as well as brave and beautiful!” Katya exclaimed, with a wink that made Tamiko blush and giggle. The two of them sealed up the bird, “And now—”

  “Now it is time for us both to go.” Tamiko held her hands for a moment. “Sayonara. For we will meet again. I am sure of it.”

  “Dosvedanya,” Katya agreed. Then, securing the jar to her belt, she turned and plunged into the sea. She could hardly wait to be home again, and see what new problem her father had for her.

  Chapter 6

  “Time for the songbird to awaken, little brother!” As Sasha blinked in the cozy darkness of his bed-cupboard, Prince Yasha grabbed Sasha’s foot and shook it. “The kingdom will descend into darkness if you don’t sing it into happiness
!”

  Sasha stretched and yawned. “Good thing I like mornings, brother, or there would be a mischief played on you today.”

  He threw back his blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed-cupboard, letting them dangle while he scratched his head. The shutters that kept out the light—and in the winter, kept in the heat—were folded back. Morning light never bothered him, and in this weather, it was folly to close yourself in when you could wake to a fresh breeze and birdsong.

  He wriggled his toes at Yasha, who laughed. “If anyone was ever to doubt your parentage, or mine for that matter, they would only need to see us awake and cheerful as the sun starts to rise. Father has been up for ages.”

  “Bah! He beat me awake? What kind of a slug am I this morning? A good thing you came to get me.” Sasha jumped out of the bed-cupboard and snatched up the clothing that the servants had laid out for him. “You go do whatever it is you do, brother mine, and leave me to my foolery.”

  Yasha laughed again, and gave Sasha a mocking bow before leaving.

  Sasha had the smallest bedroom of any of the Princes. Even so, by the standards of the boyars, who slept two and four to a bed when they came on state visits, this was luxury. Because the room was so small, the bed-cupboard was a necessity or he’d not have had room to move.

  But all his life, Sasha had loved his bed-cupboard. It had been a retreat, a sanctuary in the times when he had misjudged the acceptable level of foolery and been punished for it. It was a nest when winter winds howled around the Palace and there was scarcely any daylight. He’d had some changes made to it over the years, and now it was a kind of miniature room within a room, with a hanging lamp for reading and a set of shelves for the books and anything else he wanted to tuck in there.

  Such as his instruments.

  He went over them in his mind as he pulled on a fresh tunic and set of trousers. It was about time to sing prosperity again, and check for things that didn’t heed his warning to stay away. Especially with negotiations going forward for a bride for the Crown Prince. Time to burnish up an already shiny little Kingdom to speed things along.