I was wandering the grounds outside the temple, a pair of village dogs, lean and ravenous-looking, had spotted me and given chase. None of my tricks had worked on them; they’d ignored the images of roaring bears and fleeing rabbits, as if somehow knowing they weren’t real. To escape my pursuers, I’d ended up climbing a tree, where I’d stayed until nightfall, when Denga had come looking for me and chased them off.
“Kit-kitsune?” Okame exclaimed, making me jump and look back at him. The ronin was staring at the dog with a bemused expression on his face. “The guardian of this shrine is a kitsune?”
“It’s not a fox,” I told him, relieved and just a tiny bit annoyed. “It’s a dog. Honestly, Okame, it doesn’t look anything like a fox.”
“This is Chu,” Reika said calmly, making the dog look up at her and wag its tail. “He is the guardian of the Hayate shrine. One half of them, anyway.” Her eyes clouded over, a furrow wrinkling her smooth brow. “Ko, the other protector, disappeared the night Master Jiro left. I think she was either summoned by the head priest, or sensed that he was in danger and went to find him, because neither of them has returned.”
“He is rather small for his type,” Daisuke said, in a voice that was trying to be kind. Okame snorted.
“Small? He’s a runt. How the hell is this lint ball the guardian of anything, unless he protects the shrine from sparrows and rats?”
Chu laced back his ears and growled at the ronin, baring a set of sharp white teeth.
Reika sighed. “This is the form that allows him to follow me into the city,” the shrine maiden told the ronin. “In fact, when he is wearing this body, he is hardly noticeable at all. He will even be able to slip past the gates of the Imperial Palace with little to no attention. One of his many talents—people simply don’t notice that he is there.” A slightly evil smile curled her lips as she gazed at the ronin. “Chu doesn’t hold grudges, but were I you, I would think twice about insulting him. His true form is much more...impressive.”
Okame raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn’t say anything else. Chu rose gracefully to his feet and trotted away, as if taking the lead, and we followed him across the yard and down the steps of the Hayate shrine. As we passed under the torii gate at the entrance, I noticed that both stone pedestals were empty.
“Oh, Yumeko-san, before I forget...” Daisuke turned to me, smiling, as we stepped onto the streets of the Wind district. “I spoke to one of my uncles about you,” he began, “and he was very interested that an onmyoji would be attending the party tonight.”
“Oh? That was nice. Your uncle sounds like a very kind man.”
“Yes, and he will be quite pleased to see you. You see, a few months ago, there was a terrible scandal surrounding the emperor’s last onmyoji—rumors of treason and blood magic, whispers of assassination. It was a horrible mess. In the end the onmyoji and his assistants were executed, but the position of court diviner has yet to be filled. My uncle thinks the emperor will be delighted to have an onmyoji tell his fortune.” Daisuke’s brilliant smile grew even wider, even as I realized what he was implying, and stifled the urge to pin back my ears in alarm. “If all goes well tonight, Yumeko-san, you might have an audience with the emperor of Iwagoto himself.”
* * *
Despite my nervousness, it was impossible not to be awed by the splendor of the Imperial Palace. Sitting atop its peak, the golden structure caught the last fading rays of light and glimmered like a miniature sun itself. As we drew closer, I caught glimpses of gilded roof ornaments: golden fish, dragons and phoenixes topped the sweeping corners, silhouetted against the sky and gazing down on us mere mortals, far below.
As we approached the enormous gates, I spotted a pair of samurai near the entrance, dressed in armor and holding their yari spears upright. I worried that they would step forward, angling those spears to block our path. But they didn’t move, though the older one did turn his head when Daisuke walked up, a grin curving his mouth below his moustache.
“Oh, Daisuke-sama,” he called in a gruff, almost affectionate voice. “When did you get back? How did your pilgrimage to Sagimura go?”
“Very well, Fujio-san,” Daisuke answered. “I