then, young travelers? You don’t know go¯, so is it the park, the topiaries?” He scrutinized Diverus closely. “You need more stain for your skin, perhaps?” Diverus moved back behind Leodora.
“Stories,” she said.
The fox tilted his head and considered her again. “How so?”
“I collect stories,” she said. “It’s my…calling.”
“That is a grand calling. But tell me, how do you keep them? Are they in a satchel? Do you have them tied up somewhere? Because the ones I know are disinclined to sit still.”
She laughed at that. Behind the fox, the new players eyed her as if warning her not to laugh while they were engaged in play. “It’s quite true, they don’t sit still and they like to change shape, one place to another.”
“Exactly so,” the kitsune agreed, and showed his prominent teeth in a smile. The player behind him made a shushing sound. “Ah,” the fox said, “we must be polite and move away if we’re to talk…or would you attend a game from the beginning? It is greatly rewarding, as I said.”
She glanced at Diverus to find him leaning around her in order to witness the opening moves. “All right,” she told the fox, “one game and then stories.”
“Excellent!” the fox replied. Then he also turned to watch.
Unlike the previous game, the one they observed from the beginning ended with a definitive final move followed by the counting of open squares—or intersections, as the fox explained it—and captured stones. “Shells has won again,” he proclaimed. “Next time, I’m going to insist on being shells.”
Some of those nearest him laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “You can’t have shells, not with your white fur!”
He told Leodora, “They think I’d cheat. Imagine.”
“Yes, ridiculous,” she said, but she knew enough about kitsunes to side with the group.
As they were laughing and discussing the game with the players, the fox waved his arms about and said, “My friends, my friends, these two are itinerant story collectors and would like to add to their collection from our repository. Does anyone have a story they would particularly like to tell?”
The entire group began to babble at once. She heard “ghost” and “tanuki” and “When Oiwa became a lantern!” before the fox waved them to silence once more. “Please, please, we can all tell our tales but not at the same time, if they’re to make any sense of it.”
“Well,” began the one with the sharp beard, “tell her about the emperor who forgot about war. That has one of your kind in it!”
The fox waited to see if anyone objected to this choice. No one did. He asked, “Do you already have that story?” Leodora shook her head. “In that case, I shall tell it, and if there’s time we’ll pick another—or, better, you can tell us one of yours.” Everyone nodded enthusiastically and settled down to listen. The fox strode around as he declaimed and acted the various parts.
THE EMPEROR’S TALE
Way over there our span touches land. You can see the hills and the tower that stands high upon the tallest hill. We call that land Kochokana, and legend has it that’s because it looks so like the fluttering wings of a butterfly. The truth, however, is that we named it after a legendary empire. We don’t know where this original kingdom is now—some say it’s sunk beneath the sea; others claim it lies at the farthest end of the eternal bridge. Whatever the truth, at one time in our history the original land called Kochokana was ruled over by a warlord. As this title suggests, he was a man who came to power by violent acts, and who maintained his power in like manner.
He had been trained in the strategy of war from earliest childhood. This art he had taken to, proving to be the greatest strategist ever seen in Kochokana. With his childhood full of political and martial matters, he had never spent much time with women; and because of his position—because he was being groomed to be, one day, an emperor—only two women in the empire were considered worthy candidates for his affections. It is not overstating things to say he disliked them both intensely. They were spoiled and shrill creatures, and he would have nothing to do with them. Had his parents been alive, surely they would have arranged a marriage with one of these harpies regardless of her shortcomings, but as he was in charge of his life—ascending to the position of emperor at fifteen upon his