The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

[Jaertin]

Bandit-Duck, Bandit-Duck,
does whatever a Bandit-Duck does.
Can he jump
a security fence?
Yes he can
he can fly.
Look out!
Here comes the Bandit-Duck!

 

[arianedartagnan]

The New Year's sketches continue with this character! See if you can guess who it is before looking at the spoiler tag.


View: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1BrqchO8ihIq8tIj4sLTPM_QoQywfzZwv/view?usp=sharing

Direct link here.

Hint: Like yesterday, this isn't so much a named character as a representative of a group.

Shrimp Guard: A shrimp spirit who works as a guard in Black Sand Creek. Frequently harassed by duck demons and Lord Silurus.

 

[arianedartagnan]

The New Year's sketches continue with this character! See if you can guess who it is before looking at the spoiler tag.


View: https://drive.google.com/file/d/12jrJ1UDV2Sq5CfgXtp0UG16X1niEA_Hr/view?usp=sharing

Direct link here.

Captains Carpa and Carpio: Carp spirits. Captains of the Black Sand Creek guard force and bitter rivals.

 

[arianedartagnan]

We've reached the final day of the Serican New Year and our final New Year's character sketch! See if you can guess who it is before looking at the spoiler tag.


View: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1J6LBS9b4w9GHi6RuaYgGsZjbRAQkEQ1W/view?usp=sharing

Direct link here.

Hint: You've seen this character in various guises, but they are currently in the cycle of reincarnation as a foxhound.

Marcius: A soul in the cycle of reincarnation. Formerly cousin to the last emperor of Serica. Formerly the Star of Scholarly Song. Currently a foxhound.

 

[arianedartagnan]

A/N: As you read, see if you can guess who the killjoy is!

---

Chapter 28: Party Time

"Hey! Long time no sssee! I didn't know you were coming tonight!"

"Yeah, well, you know, work. Finally got some time off."

When I got back to Caltrop Pond for a long, relaxing, well-earned soak, I found a pair of spirits chattering away on one of the rocks. The first was a bamboo viper, a type of blindingly bright green snake that lived in – what else? – bamboo forests. The second was a whistling duck.

"Work, huh…?" asked the bamboo viper in a meaningful tone.

The whistling duck flipped his wings in a shrug. "You know how it is. Travelers need robbin'."

"Uh huh…." The bamboo viper pointed her tail at a glass bottle next to his webbed feet. "Watcha bring tonight?"

At the question, the duck demon puffed up his chest and spread his wings. "This, my friend, is a delicacy the likes of which you've never tasted! The finest apple brandy, imported at great expense and risk to life and limb from North Serica!" Then he folded his wings and settled back down. "At least, that's what the merchant we got it from claimed. He might have been trying to convince us not to kill him, though. Anyway, how about you? What'd you bring?"

The bamboo viper, I now noticed, also had a bottle looped inside her coils. "Ah, this? Just ale from Mistress Shay's latest batch. She always gives me sssome as thanks for eating her rat problem."

"Ah." The duck demon was clearly unimpressed by Mistress Shay's brewing skills. "Well, His Majesty will like that."

She rolled her eyes. "His Majesty likes anything alcohol."

With a chuckle, the duck demon bowed and swept out a wing dramatically. "Then we shouldn't keep him waiting, should we? After you, milady."

Clutching their alcoholic offerings, the two dove into the water.

Curious, I lumbered onto the rock and stuck my head over the edge, peering after them. Sure enough, the bottom of the pond blazed with light, turning the caltrop rosettes as translucent as good jade. A flourish of notes from a flute startled me, nearly making me lose my balance. A recorder joined in, then a lute, and then a whole orchestra of instruments I couldn't identify. Together, they soared up and up and up in a crescendo until, right at the peak, a drum boomed and cut them all off.

Silence, for the space of one breath.

Then the music crashed back to the accompaniment of drunken cheers, and the melody was drowned out by a pounding beat that vibrated through my shell and made me itch to dance. Jumping into the water, I swam straight to the water court entrance. Here the drums were deafening, and the whole tunnel was lit by blinding rushlights. Shouts and laughter poured out of the audience chamber, which was packed with bobbing, swaying, dancing spirits.

I ached to join them. I loved dancing. And I hadn't attended a party, let alone a good party, in centuries. It wouldn't be wise…but judging from the smell, every guest had brought alcohol. I'd give them another ten minutes, just to play it safe. Then they'd all be too drunk to tell whether one partyer were a spirit or a really weird turtle.

Ten minutes. I could wait ten minutes.

While I swam in circles to kill time, I thought back to other parties I'd attended – and one in particular.

---

New Year's Eve in the palace in the City of Dawn Song, nearly five hundred years ago.

I'd arrived without an invitation, wearing a gown cut from silk that was obviously coarser than the fabrics on display here. (In my defense, I'd been out in the countryside, and Lady Fate hadn't given me much time to prepare for my mission.) But that didn't matter. The incongruity of my dress – and the lack of an invitation, for that matter – would only be noticed by someone with the spare attention to look.

I lingered in a corner of the courtyard, listening to the music and laughter that spilled out the windows, watching the carriages pull up and the guests disembark, and noting the mannerisms I would need to affect. When I was ready, I sallied forth. Floating up the marble staircase and fanning out my nine, luxuriant, auburn tails, I gave the doorman a serene smile.

"May I see your invitation, my lady?" he asked politely, as he had every guest before me, refraining from commenting on my lack of a retinue.

"Yes, of course."

My smile broadened into something dazzling, and my voice wove a spell of sweetness and light around him. His eyes unfocused.

"Thank you, my lady. Please enjoy the party."

With a dreamy expression, he stepped back and waved me inside. Taking small, smooth steps so that my skirts and filmy scarf wafted around me, I glided into the main reception hall.

It was a scene out of a painting. Bright lights, brilliant silks, flashing gems. Lavish food and drink and musicians playing in the background while courtiers danced and politicked and composed poetry to celebrate the might of the Serican Empire and the glory of His Imperial Majesty, Cassius of the Lang Dynasty, may he reign ten thousand years.

The Son of Heaven himself sat on a dais at the far end of the hall, his chimera on his right, his empress on his left, surveying his courtiers with a remote, regal smile. Accompanied by their attendants, a line of nobles awaited their chance to present their New Year wishes and gifts to their ruler.

So this was the man I was supposed to bring down. Well, at least he was handsome. Heaven forbid I should have to waste my time on ugly people.

I didn't approach him, not yet. Instead, I drifted around the party, exchanging fake smiles and insincere greetings and getting a sense of the alliances and rivalries among the courtiers. Most were human, with a smattering of mages, although perhaps a third were spirits of various sorts, all in human form to show off their transformation powers. At the center of the dance floor twirled a pretty young lady in a dress the yellow of autumn foliage – a gingko tree spirit. Next to the buffet table, a gnarled old man leaned on a staff, a small white dog at his side – the spirits of a pine tree and the mushroom that grew on its root. There were also cat spirits, dog spirits, snakes, hedgehogs, songbirds, even a pheasant who seemed to command particular respect. Even before they saw my tails, the other spirits recognized me as a fox, while the mages were absently scanning everyone in their vicinity and also identified me at once. However, I wasn't expecting anyone to care what I was, and no one did.

Still trying to decide which group to insinuate myself into first, I wandered over to a clump of courtiers who were standing next to a display of pine boughs and dwarf orange trees. They were sipping plum wine and debating the merits of various poets. All long dead, but the seriousness with which they discussed the poets' themes and careers made my ears perk up. This was promising. There had to be a secondary, potentially traitorous conversation concealed under all that literary criticism. No one could possibly care that much about how two different poets used the same mountain to symbolize opposing concepts.

"But if you look at the course of his life," one human man was arguing, "it's obvious that he went through a period of disillusionment with worldly concerns, especially politics."

"You're assuming he wrote that poem during that period, though," pointed out a human woman. "There's no evidence that he did."

A maple tree spirit objected, "Except that we know from poems that are dated that he favored mountain imagery then." And then she started reciting what sounded like his whole catalogue.

Hmm. Maybe it really was just a literary debate. Making a note of the courtiers' faces so I could investigate them later, I kept going.

In the shadow of a pillar lurked a clump of humans with that sallow, hunched look of scholars who preferred to sit behind their desks rather than on horses. Their robes were even lower quality than mine and overwhelmed them, as if they rarely wore anything so elaborate and didn't quite know what to do with the excess cloth. Dared I hope they were government officials…?

When I got closer, I realized that it was even better. Bands of colored silk hung under the humans' chins and draped down their backs nearly to the floor. These were Imperial Mages!

Most humans couldn't perform magic any more than they could sing, dance, or act, but a handful had a knack for it and an even smaller fraction received training in how to use it. Or, rather, brute-force it. Unlike spirits, humans weren't magical by nature, so their idea of spells was shoving their will at the world to reshape it. This meant that mages needed to have a very strong sense of who they were and what they wanted and, as a result, tended to hold very definite opinions. They weren't the most pleasant people to deal with, but they were among the most manipulable. For all that they believed they were governed by logic alone, they were just as susceptible to flattery as the average person.

Perhaps more so, because they believed it their due.

One Imperial Mage was waving his baggy sleeves and proclaiming, "The man's an idiot! Everything he puts out is trash! Tell your protégée to pick better research collaborators!"

The woman he was addressing gave him a thin smile. "You're welcome to tell her that yourself."

From the way her neighbors smirked, the protégée in question wasn't going to appreciate interference in her research direction.

Another woman cut in, "Did you attend the last colloquium? Did you see him run up to the speaker and tell him that everything he'd ever said was a lie?"

The Imperial Mages all laughed and started swapping stories about this very entertaining-sounding colleague.

Before they could get too carried away, the last man intervened. "Did everyone get their year-end reports submitted on time?"

What a killjoy!

The question sobered the mages at once. They had, but apparently they hadn't enjoyed the process much.

Well, mage politics was fascinating and I'd find a way to exploit it later, but I'd heard enough for now. Pattering forward, I beamed at them, making the men preen and the women blush.

"Why, you must be Imperial Mages!" I cried, letting my eyes sweep over the loops of silk at their necks. "What an honor to meet you!"

The mages shifted slightly, looking to the last man. He stepped forward and bowed. Now that he was out of the shadows, I realized while his robes' design was the same, the silk was significantly better and the embroidery much more skilled. It almost excused him being a killjoy. Almost.

"You do us too much credit, my lady spirit," he said in a tone that bordered on convincing. "Are you new to the capital?"

His sharp eyes had already taken in the quality of my dress. This mage, at least, had some social experience.

I beamed harder, although without putting magic into it. "I am, honored mage!" Before he could start probing as to where I'd come from and whom I knew here and how I'd obtained an invitation to this party, I swirled towards the others. "I've always been fascinated by your work!" I enthused, letting them fill in their own antecedents for the "your." "What are the latest research developments at the Imperial Academy?"

After a brief babble, the woman with the difficult protégée won out and started rambling about her latest spell. Or something like that. Her sentences were so packed with technical jargon that I couldn't make heads or tails of them. I was making awed noises and searching for an exit when a servant prostrated himself in front of the killjoy. Now, that caught my attention – and all the other mages'. The woman's voice cut off.

"My lord," said the servant, "His Imperial Majesty wishes to see you. And you as well, my lady," he told me.

I lifted one hand to my chest, feigning elegant shock. "Me? But I'm just a lowly spirit. I've never – I don't know how to – I couldn't possibly speak to the Son of Heaven himself!"

The killjoy shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You're not allowed to speak to him unless he gives you permission anyway. Just answer his questions if he asks any. He probably just wants to get a better look at you."

With a nod at his colleagues, he followed the servant towards the dais.

"Uh…." After casting a final, helpless glance at the other mages and receiving their encouraging nods, I hurried after him.

Behind us, the mages were scooting around the pillar for a better view – and they weren't the only ones. All around the room, courtiers were subtly re-angling themselves so they could see and lowering their voices so they could hear.

When we reached the dais, the killjoy prostrated himself. I sank down next to him.

"Cousin!" cried the emperor. "Come, there's no need for that, Marcius! Rise! You too, my lady!"

Heaving himself back to his feet, Lord Marcius bowed his head and waited for permission to speak. I followed suit, clasping my hands in front of me and keeping my eyes demurely downcast.

"How are you enjoying the party, Marcius?" asked the emperor. "How did you manage to meet the most beautiful lady in the room?" And he burst into laughter.

When I peeked up through my lashes at the empress, she was smiling a gentle smile at the middle distance.

"I – " began the killjoy with an awkward glance at her, but the emperor interrupted.

"What is your name, spirit? You may look at Us."

I obeyed, pretending to be nervous. "My name is Flos Piri, Your Imperial Majesty."

His eyes swept over me, from the ornamented loops of hair on my head all the way down my dress and out to the tips of my tails. He never registered the quality of the silk, although I was pretty sure the empress did.

"Welcome to the City of Dawn Song, Flos Piri. We hope to see you at future court gatherings."

That was as clear a command as any. Concealing my triumph, I stammered out my thanks and withdrew so the Son of Heaven could tease his cousin some more.

And that was how I met Cassius.

---

A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Celia, Charlotte, Hookshyu, James, Lindsey, Michael, Voligne, and Anonymous!

 

[ForwardRewind]

I can almost imagine a future history book... In fact, I'll write an excerpt:
-
After the collapse and subsequent restructuring of the Heaven, it is now commonly considered that the demonizing of nine-tailed foxes was simply the result of finding a scapegoat that didn't make them look bad. And they just went with whoever their 'perfect leader' decided to firmly blame the results of his inability to counteract Heaven's own attempts to sabotage his rule. Encouraging and even assisting Flos Piri's efforts to remove the competent works. With the initial intent to bring them back in after Cassius' rule had ended. And in their place other workers of Heaven were able to bring in their 'favorite mortals', regardless of their competence. With some of the flimsy excuses as them being able to manage the transition.

But as later scholars realized, his spite caused far much more damage than was anticipated, render what would have been a massive karma loss for many involved, to the point of rapid demotion and being forced into the reincarnation cycle from the very start. But especially for Lady Fate. So a bribe to Cassius in position as the Star of Heavenly Joy, and a measure of 'revenge' on who he perceived responsible. With enough political ability to realize that going against Lady Fate directly would not end well for him, if one was being generous. After all, her orders destroyed his empire before, why wouldn't she go further for anything more direct that defiling her temple? Less generously, Cassius might have not realized that nothing Piri did was outside of her remit. And in fact was relatively minor compared to what options she had available to her. A fact that most likely embarrassed Heaven due to how simple it was to completely destroy his reign.

Though it is somewhat unclear as to if Cassius himself was aware of one bit of revenge against Lady Fate for his situation, the defilement of her temple was deemed the, or at least a, 'proper' way to have the temple decorated due to Cassius being rewarded. And the specific actions he took were deemed proper worship. And thus neither were from then on reported to Lady Fate as 'defilement'. Due to laziness, she never really looked onto her temple to check on it, unless a report specifically called her to do so. And as long as she got 'everything is fine' in the reports she saw, she had no reason. And further changes were gradually made, that would have greatly upset her had she found out about them. Her temple becoming more and more a mockery of her. But less and less reports were sent to her for review that had any resemblance to reality. Leaving out instances of great disrespect to her.

This change of how much respect those working under her leadership had for her seems to have been at least partially caused by the passing around of what exactly the scholars had determined that damned Piri so much in her trial. The fact that it was Lady Fate, not Piri, that truly caused Cassius turn from being a Just ruler. And had Piri not been ordered to cause the fall herself, it still would have happened. Combined with the original justification and reasoning of sending Piri to deal with the problem was the final straw for many. The fact that Lady Fate left off the reason for the fact that defiling her temple was the beginning of the fall of his reign was that she would continuously send disaster after disaster until it fell.
-

Spoiler: A/N

Longer than I though I'd end up writing, but there it is. I'm sort of tentatively imagining that Lady Fate didn't get that whole message. Either because she cut off the messenger as soon as she heard 'beginning of the end', or at some point someone realized that preventing her from having a target from her rage wouldn't help their position that much. She was no doubt ranting about finding a way to get back at Cassius for the defilement of her temple.

Was it said what the defilement actually was? And if it was actually even anything that wasn't quickly solved? Such as something really minor like spilling a glass of wine onto the tile/stone. Something that really makes her look petty for going after it in revenge.

If there's anything that goes against canon, because I didn't recall the relevant details as I was writing up the kind of sillyness, well... It's totally because the writer of the history book is either a bit biased or had biased sources.

Like I said, I wasn't expecting it to be this long of a write up. But hey, when the muse has the words flow, just go with it.

 

[arianedartagnan]

Chapter 29: The Dragon King of Caltrop Pond

All right. Enough reminiscing. All the humans and most of the spirits at that New Year's Eve party in the City of Dawn Song were long dead, and who knew if the palace itself still stood? All of that lay in the past. Five hundred years in the past. Whereas I had a modern-day Serican party to attend – er, infiltrate and investigate – now.

A quick glance told me that the spirits were so drunk they'd be lucky to identify me as a turtle, much less an unawakened turtle that could talk. If anything, my lack of an offering was more problematic. But that, I could handle.

Head held high, I glided into the audience chamber as if I'd been invited. On the dais, a group of human musicians was playing inside a dome of air. The mass of gyrating bodies parted to let me onto the dance floor, and I bobbed up and down to the drums, surrounded by a swirl of spilled ale, brandy, wine, and whatever other types of booze that present-day Sericans were capable of concocting.

The bamboo viper I'd seen earlier tried to twirl, lost her balance, and tumbled across my shell. Hiccupping, she slurred, "Shorree! Washn't on pur – purposh – din't mean to – to – " Unable to string together a coherent sentence, she swayed off me and thrust a flask into my eyes.

Scooting backwards, I took it between my front feet and sniffed warily. Then I risked a tiny, experimental sip – and felt it scour the insides of my mouth and burn all the way down my throat into my stomach.

"Bad, ishn'it?" yelled the bamboo viper over the music. "Have shome more!"

I just toasted her with the flask.

Across the room, a group of rice paddy snakes were writhing around and even on the throne itself with a shocking lack of concern for lèse-majesté – oh.

Oh. The spirit dancing on the throne was the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond himself. Never mind then.

Leaving the bamboo viper to her flailing, I dragged the flask across the dance floor until I reached them. The rice paddy snakes greeted me with cheers, and the dragon plopped down to lounge in his throne, the caltrop-nut-shaped back splayed out behind him like bat wings.

"Wel – wel – hic – welcome!" he proclaimed on the third try. "What have you brought – hic – Us?" He stabbed one claw at the flask.

Aww, he only had three claws per foot. Just a wee babe of a dragon. How cute.

I bowed, inclining my whole body. Wine, Majesty! (At least, it was as close to wine as it was to any other type of beverage.) I bring you an offering of wine, in gratitude for this most auspicious meeting at this most splendid event!

The dragon's claws opened and closed in a clear "Gimme, gimme now," so I swam forward and placed the flask in his hand.

Throwing back his head until his stubby horns scraped the throne, he chugged it in one go. I watched, fascinated, waiting for him to choke, but he bounced up onto his seat and flung his arms wide.

"Yes! Yes! That's the stuff! What's your name, spirit!" He stabbed a claw at me.

Well, I certainly wasn't going to say "Mooncloud." Casting about for inspiration, I blurted out, Rosette! My name is Rosette, Majesty.

"Rosette!" He turned the word over, testing the syllables. "I like it! I'm going to call you – Rosie!" Holding the empty flask high, he shouted, "To Rosie, our newest friend!"

The rice paddy snakes roared, "To Rosie! To Rosie!"

Tossing the flask aside, the dragon kicked off his throne and arced across the room. As he plummeted towards the center of the dance floor, his guests cheered and crowded back to make space. The pounding beat stopped, the music swung into a jig, and one of the rice paddy snakes slithered up to fasten strings of dried caltrop nuts to his legs. Meanwhile, crab servants were winding through the crowd, handing out more strings of dried caltrop nuts for everyone to tie on themselves. I glimpsed the bamboo viper looping hers around her tail, while the whistling duck draped his around his neck.

Before everyone had finished, the dragon was already leaping and capering, the caltrop nuts clicking out a merry rhythm. The other spirits joined in, to the best of their abilities. (The snakes had the most trouble since they didn't have legs, but they balanced on their tails and bounced up and down on the tips.)

A string of caltrop nuts swaying around my neck, I found myself pressed between the bamboo viper and the whistling duck. What are we doing? I called over the din.

"If yer ashking that, yer not – yer not – drunk enough!" the bamboo viper yelled back.

An excellent point. But since I wasn't a masochist, I didn't plan to get drunk at all, so I bobbed in time to the music and applauded the dragon's antics along with the others.

Hey, I realized all of a sudden, this is fun!

"'Course it's fun!" shouted the whistling duck. "Wouldn't do it if it weren't!"

"The fun-nest part ish coming!" added the bamboo viper.

Right on cue, the dragon pumped his fists over his head. "Outside!" he bellowed.

The whole room erupted into whoops. "Outside! Outside! To the outside!"

He pranced for the exit, the rice paddy snakes falling in behind him, followed by the rest of the guests, everyone still stepping and leaping and spinning. We tinkled to the surface of the pond, burst through the caltrops in a fountain of shredded leaves, and started to dance our way across the countryside. The musicians kept pace with us, playing as hard as they could.

"Louder!" came the dragon's shout, echoed by all his guests. "LOUDER!"

The volume went up.

As we cavorted past the first cottage, a voice hollered out the window, "Oy! Keep it down!"

He was met by a chorus of "Nevaaaah!" and "Come! Dance! With! Us!"

Oh dear. Did depriving human farmers of sleep and causing lost productivity lead to negative karma?

Do we ever get in trouble? Like, with the baron? I asked the spirits around me.

They chortled. "What can he do to US?"

I did consider dropping out of the dance line, but if the Accountants were going to punish me for waking humans, they were already going to punish me for waking humans. And I had Aurelia's oath. And anyway, this was so fun. It was more fun than I'd had in centuries. After the way my lives had been going, I deserved to have a good time just this once.

And so we spent the rest of the night circling the land around Caltrop Pond, passing Honeysuckle Croft and the irate Master and Mistress Jek and their excited children, who did want to join us but were smacked back by their parents, and making a thorough public nuisance of ourselves. At last, as the sky started to shift from star-spangled black to grey, we spiraled back to the pond.

To the cries of "The Dawn Dance! The Dawn Dance!" perhaps half the spirits stripped off their caltrop nut strings and clustered in groups of eight. While each set formed into a square with a pair of dancers on each side, the rest of us fell back to form a giant circle around them.

What's going on now? I asked my trusty new friends the bamboo viper and the whistling duck. Should we find five more people?

"I'sh the Dawn Dansh!" she cheered.

"I can never keep the steps straight," he shrugged.

I took that to mean it was a choreographed routine and I'd be better off watching.

Right as the sun peeked over the horizon, the drum fell silent, and the flute, recorder, and lute began a stately melody that actually sounded like court music. The spirits in each set bowed to one another, then launched into a complicated sequence of steps and twirls. Sometimes they danced around or across the box; other times they joined hands (if they had them) and danced in a circle.

After a night of carousing, so many spirits messed up that I had trouble figuring out the exact choreography until I focused on the dragon king and his chosen seven rice paddy snakes. Shockingly, each of them executed the dance with regal ease. I supposed they had had plenty of opportunity to build up a high alcohol tolerance.

At the end of the dance, the spirits bowed to their partners again, holding the pose until the final notes blew away on the dawn breeze.

There was a moment of silence. Then the spell broke, and the onlookers applauded wildly while the dancers high-fived (if they could) and grinned exhausted, triumphant grins. I was preparing to bid my new friends farewell when –

"The Chicken Dance! The Chicken Dance!" bellowed the dragon, and the musicians swung into a ridiculously upbeat tune.

What's this? I demanded.

"It's the Chicken Dance!" the whistling duck called back.

The what?

"The Chicken Dance! It's easy! Just watch us and you'll pick it up!"

All around us, spirits who had limbs were flapping them like wings, wriggling their bodies while sinking towards the ground, clapping their hands or feet if they had them, and then repeating the motions. I joined in as best I could with my flippers and hard shell. Periodically, we ran first to one side and then to the other in a giant circle around the pond. This didn't work so well when there were turtles involved, of course, so spirits tripped and fell over one another, giggling the whole time.

I found myself laughing, swept up in the gaiety. This is a silly dance! I yelled. This is the silliest dance I've ever seen!

"Isn't it?" agreed the duck, flapping his wings.

"I'sh the besht!"

Yeah! I agreed. Does His Majesty do this every night?

"Pretty much! You should come again!"

I think I will!

When the music finally ended, the Dragon King flew to the center of his pond, where he teetered on the caltrop rosettes and raised his arms. "Thank you all for coming! This concludes our night!"

The proclamation was met by cheers and yells of "Thank you, Your Majesty!"

"Come back tonight if you want more! The only price is an offering of alcohol!"

More cheering. I caught myself wondering where I could steal a bottle. No wonder the duck demons had turned to banditry!

After that announcement, the dragon stepped off the caltrops and plummeted into the water. The rice paddy snakes dove after him, presumably to snore the day away in their bedroom. On land, the guests were bidding one another goodbye and good morning and straggling off across the fields. The musicians packed up their instruments and trudged towards Black Sand Creek, which they had to cross to return to the Green Frog's fief.

"Will we see you tonight?" the whistling duck asked me.

Before I could answer, the bamboo viper, who'd finally sobered up but was pressing her tail to her head as if she had a migraine, cut in, "Oh, can you come again tonight, Shtripey? I thought you had work."

The whistling duck gave another of his signature wing shrugs. "Eh, we'll see. Probably not. The weather's turned cold, so travel is down."

Probably a good thing. I'd rather not know about any activities that harmed humans.

I'm sorry, I never caught your name, I said to the bamboo viper.

"Bobo," she replied. "You?"

Rosette. Rosie for short.

"You're new, aren't you?" Stripey finally asked the question I'd been hoping to avoid.

Yes, I'm from Black Sand Creek.

I didn't think it would be an issue, though. The duck demon himself came from the Claymouth Barony, so obviously the dragon invited spirits from other fiefs to his parties – provided they brought alcohol.

And indeed, Stripey and Bobo simply nodded at my statement.

"Well, we're off then," the whistling duck told me. "See you around, Rosie."

I lumbered in the direction of Black Sand Creek until they were out of sight, and then doubled back to soak in Caltrop Pond. I needed to recuperate before I spent another day supervising Taila.

---

A/N 1: For the Dawn Dance, I picture something vaguely like the Dawn Mazurka/Russian Mazurka Quadrille (although it's from totally the wrong time period). And the Chicken Dance is, well, the chicken dance.

A/N 2: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Celia, Charlotte, Hookshyu, James, Lindsey, Michael, Voligne, and Anonymous!

 

[arianedartagnan]

Chapter 30: Babysitting

While my turtle flesh was rehydrating, I thought long and hard about how to approach Mission Keep Taila Alive Enough to Satisfy Aurelia. The exact wording of my oath had been "I will do what I can to protect the human child Jek Taila," and Aurelia had defined "protecting" as keeping her from drowning, getting eaten by demons, or otherwise dying. With any luck, Taila wouldn't encounter incidents so life-threatening that a turtle couldn't avert them.

Anyway, if it proved too much for me, I'd just find a way to make her move away from Black Sand Creek. Or, in the last extremity, jump into the Jeks' stewpot and argue to Aurelia that I'd sacrificed myself to feed her daughter.

Yes, I liked my plan.

Satisfied, I pushed through the torn caltrop rosettes and clambered onto land. Time to go meet my little karma source!

---

"Ooooh! A tuuuuuurtle! Hi, Mr. Turtle!"

A fleshy blob, broken by one ginormous brown eye, filled my vision. The eye was sideways.

I was crouched under the spoon cabbages in the pathetic little vegetable patch, but the leaves were too withered to provide real cover. Taila had spotted my shell as soon as she followed her mother out of the cottage. She'd spun away from Mistress Jek and dashed over, leaving two more crushed spoon cabbages in her wake.

"Taila! Do not step on the vegetables!" came the roar, but Mistress Jek had been too busy to haul away her errant daughter.

Squatting so her tunic had hitched all the way up to her thighs and I could see her bare, dirty legs, Taila had turned her head ninety degrees and hunched over to peer at me. After a very long, very careful inspection, she'd drawn her conclusions about what I was. A natural philosopher in the making, our Taila.

"Mr. Turtle! Come play with me!"

Two filthy hands shot out, closing around my shell before I could back away, and then I was soaring up through the air to dangle over the cabbages. I found myself eye-to-eye with the peasant child who had once been a princess. I was too close to see her full face, but dirt caked a streak of rice porridge across one cheek that no one had wiped off. That, more than anything, repulsed me in a way I couldn't explain.

Recoiling, I waved my legs and snapped my jaws in what I thought was a clear "Put me down!" signal.

Taila, naturally, didn't take the hint. "Mr. Turtle!" she cried. The reek of her unbrushed, rotting teeth struck my nostrils, making me gag. "Are you hungry? Let's have a tea party!"

Ah, a play-pretend tea party. Sure. Why not? If Taila were sitting in the dirt serving me fake tea and fake food, at least she wasn't falling and hitting her head or burning down the cottage around herself. Also, it would get me away from her breath.

I bobbed my head.

"O-kay!" she cried.

Cassia Quarta had enjoyed pretending to cook too, I recalled. One time she'd "hosted" me when she was supposed to be memorizing the names of her illustrious forebears, so to encourage her, I'd ordered the servants to bring out the state banquet china and handed her the crown jewels to use as "pastries." When Cassius heard about it from an indignant Aurelia, he'd laughed.

Ah, good times.

Clutching me in one hand, this incarnation of Cassia Quarta charged into the cottage. The stench hit me so hard I nearly threw up. Honeysuckle Croft only had a narrow door and a tiny window for ventilation, so soot darkened the walls and ceiling and, oh gods, it smelled like manure. Must be the pig. And the chickens. I hadn't noticed the chickens last night, but one was clucking and laying an egg in a corner. And on top of that whole scene, smoke pressed down like an old comforter you'd use to smother an unwanted infant. Thanks to Taila's short stature, we were below the worst of it, but my throat and lungs started to ache at once. I gagged and coughed and gagged again. Being swung around sideways wasn't helping either.

Acting as if she hadn't just run into an evil miasma, Taila plopped down next to the hearth and dropped me into the reeds. I sank all the way past the filthy top layer into – the spilled food and ale, old vomit, stale urine, and pig and chicken manure that had collected underneath. I did throw up then.

Aurelia owed me big time, I thought. Big, big time.

The whole mess kept shifting around underfoot, but I grimly fought my way up and stuck my head back out of the reeds. Taila had dropped me near the fire, over which Mistress Jek had already put a battered black cauldron, probably to boil rice to death. Along one wall, frayed baskets bulged with root vegetables and wizened wild apples. I didn't see anything that either was or could hold fresh or preserved meat, which was perplexing since there were farm animals right there.

Meanwhile, humming tunelessly, Taila was crawling around under the single crude table in the cottage. She re-emerged with two acorn cups and a splintery disk that one of her brothers must have whittled for her. Then she sat down cross-legged, flashing her bare legs again.

I winced. The Jeks really didn't do much to teach their daughter proper etiquette, did they? I knew they had to grow crops and do other sorts of farming stuff and didn't have as much time for social niceties as aristocrats, but still!

Setting one acorn cup in front of me, Taila sing-songed, "Here's a cup for yooou, Mr. Turtle. Here's a cup for meeee. And here's a plate of mooncakes fit for a queeeen…."

She put the wooden disk between us and mimed serving something from it. Midway through, she popped up and leaned over the fire to peer into the pot.

No! I screamed before I realized it.

"Eeeek!" she shrieked, losing her balance and toppling towards the flames.

My heart stopped – but she tottered and caught herself and dropped into a squat to gawk at me.

"Didja talk? Are you a talking turtle?" she demanded.

Curses. What should I do now? I'd been planning to pretend to be a normal turtle that just happened to hang out in her yard all the time. But before I had to answer, Mistress Jek came sprinting into the cottage.

"Taila! Taila! Are you all right – " Her panicked voice cut off when she saw her daughter right next to the open fire. Fear manifested as anger. "Taila! How many times do I have to tell you not to get close to the fire!"

Over the girl's babbling about "Mr. Turtle" and "He talks!" Mistress Jek hauled her daughter away from the hearth (nearly crushing me in the process), gave her a hard spanking, and then shoved the wailing girl outdoors.

I crept after them, making sure to stay out of sight.

"You stay RIGHT HERE. Yer in time-out," Mistress Jek snapped, stabbing one stubby finger at a spot next to the door. "Do NOT go anywhere until I say you can leave."

Gods, what a violent mother! Was this how people taught children these days? I was pretty sure no one had ever raised a hand to Cassius' children, no matter how insufferable they were.

Maybe someone should have.

After Mistress Jek had stormed back to whatever chore she'd been breaking her back over, and Taila had sobbed herself into silence and buried her head in her arms and knees, I lumbered up to inspect her for bruises. Aurelia and the Accountants shouldn't hold maternal discipline against me, right?

I didn't see any marks on her skin. Good.

Lifting her head so one eye peeked over a forearm, Taila studied me right back. "Mr. Turtle?" she asked hopefully. "Didja come back?"

I didn't know if I were a male or female turtle, not that it made any difference, so I just bobbed my head.

"Yer a spirit," she pronounced, sitting up straight. "Nailus told me aaaaall about spirits. They talk and they live foreeeeeever."

Well, that was one way of describing spirits. And even though I wasn't one, it was a useful misunderstanding. I bobbed my head again.

Her face lit up. "Say somethin'! Why aren'cha talking, Mr. Turtle?"

Eh, it couldn't hurt, I supposed. Hello, Jek Taila, I said gravely.

"You talked!" she squealed. "You talked you talked you talked!"

Well, yes. I didn't see what the big deal was. By her definition, a spirit should talk.

"Say somethin' else!"

Wow, what a ill-mannered child. Cassia Quarta hadn't been nearly this bad. I was not a toy. And Taila needed to learn proper respect for spirits, which would have the extra benefit of preventing her from venturing too close to Lord Silurus's lair this life. Yes. She needed a good lesson. Mouth shut, I cocked my head all the way to a side and fixed my eyes on hers.

"Say somethin' say somethin' say somethin' NOW!"

She was well on her way to a temper tantrum now. Where was her mother? Why wasn't Mistress Jek coming back to control her offspring?

"You hafta say somethin', Mr. Turtle!"

No, no, I really didn't. I got pushed around all the time – by Lady Fate, by the Jade Emperor, by Flicker, Glitter, Cassius, even Taila's ex-mother. I refused to submit to a scrawny four-year-old brat too. Turning my back on her, I struck out across the yard for the vegetable patch.

"Noooooooooo! Nooooooo! Come back! Come back right now, Mr. Turtle!" When she ran out of novel commands, they morphed into incoherent howling.

Gods, now I understood why Mistress Jek wasn't coming back. I wouldn't either, if it weren't for my oath to Aurelia. The goddess owed me big time. She owed me big, huge, gigantic, colossal time. And I had every intention of collecting.

Huddling under a spoon cabbage, I pulled my head and legs into my shell and tried to block out the screaming.

Into this wonderful, heartwarming scene minced a bright green snake. From the way its path twisted and curved, it seemed to be trying its hardest to stay out of the sunlight. At the sight of Taila, it stopped, as if it were debating whether to run away right now. I empathized completely.

Its spine stiffened, and it moved forward with determination. "Good mornin', Miss Taila," it said, its voice nearly drowned out by the tantrum.

Oh wonderful, it was that drunken bamboo viper spirit from last night. Unsurprisingly, she was nursing a horrendous hangover.

I had no idea how Taila heard the greeting, but her screaming morphed into a wail of "Bobo! Bobo Bobo Bobo!"

The viper hissed a sigh and pressed the tip of her tail to her head. "What's the matter, Taila?" she asked in a soothing tone.

"Mr. Turtle's bein' meeeeeeean!" Acting like a miniature version of her mother, the brat scrambled to her feet and stabbed a finger in my direction.

I backed away between the spoon cabbages, but it was too late. Bobo had already spotted me. Well, at least oracle-shell turtles all looked the same and the viper had drunk enough to kill a human last night.

"Wait…. Rosssie?" she exclaimed, shocked. "Is that you?"

Ah, curses. I should have gotten her drunker. Dropping to the ground, I feigned sleep. Someone who regularly attended all-night parties should be able to understand that.

She didn't take the hint. Scales rustled as Bobo slithered over and examined my shell pattern. "It is you! Rosssie!"

She sounded thrilled. Well, that made one of us. Good for her.

"Hey, Rosssie? What are you – oh. Oops. She's sssleeping." She backed away, marginally more quietly.

Forgetting about her mother's injunction to stay in time-out, Taila scrambled over. "Bobo, why d'you keep callin' him Rosie? His name's Mr. Turtle."

"It is?" asked the viper's puzzled voice. "But I met her last night and she sssaid her name is Rosssie."

It was Mistress Jek, of all people, who saved me. "BOBO!" she bellowed from around the corner. "YER LATE!"

Bobo winced and pressed her tail to her head again. "I'm sssorry, Mistress Jek!" she called back. "I'll be right there! Taila," she urged, "I have to go help your mama. Be a good girl and don't get into trouble. You can tell me more about the turtle later."

"O-kaaay." Pouting, Taila threw herself back down in the dirt, pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and propped her chin on her kneecaps. Then she stared at me, waiting for me to "wake up."

Oh boy. It was going to be a long day. I really wasn't cut out for babysitting. I couldn't wait for the next party in Caltrop Pond.

---

A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers BananaBobert, Blacklark57, Celia, Charlotte, Hookshyu, James, Lindsey, Michael, Pred Head, Voligne, and Anonymous!

 

[arianedartagnan]

Chapter 31: Emissary of the Gods

I couldn't wait for the next party in Caltrop Pond, but in order to attend it, I needed alcohol. Which I didn't have. And which I wasn't sure how or where to obtain – except that it would not be from the Jeks' winter store. I pondered the issue all afternoon while monitoring Taila's movements, and by the time Mistress Jek dismissed Bobo and herded her family indoors for supper, I had my solution.

Before the viper could slither out of the yard, I emerged from the green onions to intercept her. But she, as it turned out, was also searching for me.

Hey, Bobo, I greeted her.

"Rosssie!" she cried in delight. "I thought it was you! What are you doing here?"

Let's talk elsewhere. I waggled my head away from the cottage, in the rough direction of Caltrop Pond.

"Sssure!"

I led her away from the cottage and into a stand of bamboo, whose rustling leaves would help cover our voices. On instinct, Bobo glided up a stalk and curled around it loosely, draping her head down to look at me.

"What's up?" She lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper, the kind parodied by stage actors playing Imperial spies. "Why all the sssuper-sssecret sssecrecy?"

Funny you should ask, I answered with a significant nod. About the secrecy, I mean.

"Huh?"

Taking one step closer, I craned my neck upward and whispered back in the same melodramatic tone, You asked what I'm doing here. I'm on a secret mission on behalf of – And I swiveled my head from side to side, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before rolling my eyes up at the sky.

The viper gawked at the bamboo leaves overhead for a very long moment.

"Oooooh! You mean, you're working for – ?" Copying me, she pointed her nostrils at the sky a couple times and also rolled her eyes upward.

Yes. Discretion is of the utmost necessity.

"Ooooh! You're a sssecret agent for the gods!" She nodded so hard that the bamboo bounced. "You can count on me. I'm very dissscreet!" Sliding down to my eye level, she stage-whispered, "Ssso, which god? Which god is it?"

Very discreet, indeed. I wish I could tell you. But the god's instructions were very specific.

"Oh. I sssee." Bobo looked crestfallen, but perked up at once. "Will you tell me sssomeday? Promise you'll tell me sssomeday!"

No harm in promising, since she was too dumb to make me swear an oath. Of course.

"Great! Ooh, this is ssso exciting! I'm friends with a real sssecret agent sssent down to Earth by the gods! Can I help? I want to help. How can I help?"

Well, since she asked so nicely. After a pretense of deep thought, I suggested, Well, actually, there is something. It's very important.

That excited her. She leaned forward until her nostrils practically bumped mine. "Uh huh, uh huh! Anything!"

Wow, was her life really that boring?

I confided, It's important for me to blend into the social scene here, so no one suspects me. So it would be useful for me to attend the parties at Caltrop Pond –

"Sssay no more!" she exclaimed. "I know exactly what you need!" She tapped her nostrils with the tip of her tail in a cliched knowing gesture. "I ssstill have a few bottles of Missstress Shay's ale. I'll bring one for you tonight!"

Oh, thank you so much! I really appreciate it! The next time I make my report to Heaven, you can be certain that I will mention your assistance.

She couldn't really puff out her chest, but her spine straightened and she lifted her head. "It's my honor! You can count on me! I'm very dissscreet!"

---

Well, as it turned out, she was two of those things. She did consider it an honor to assist me, and she did indeed bring an extra bottle of Mistress Shay's revolting ale for me to present to the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond. As for the discretion….

"Shtripey! You made it! Shtripey Shtripey Shtripey!"

Waving a wing, the duck demon waddled across the dance floor to join us. "Hullo, Bobo, Rosie. You seem extra energetic tonight, Bobo. Get a new job?"

"Huh? Oh, no." The viper sagged for a moment, then cheered up and draped a coil over my back. "I jusht learned shomething very important." She shouted into his ear, "Roshie ish a shecret agent!"

Great. I darted a guilty glance at the nearby dancers, but no one was paying attention.

Rosie! I hissed, at the same time that Stripey remarked in an indulgent voice, "Is that so?"

"It'sh true!" she insisted. "She told me sho hershelf. Thish afternoon." And, at his tolerant chuckle, "I washn't drunk when she told me! Tell him, Roshie!"

Ah, the advantages of associating with the local drunk. No one believed her when she blurted out all your secrets. And she always knew where to find alcohol.

I made a show of proclaiming, Yes, Stripey, she is correct. I am indeed a super-secret secret agent. Then I shrugged my shoulders and tipped my head back and forth in a comical way.

"Roshie!" Bobo pulled back, looking hurt.

Stripey draped one soothing wing around her and the other around me. "Come on, you two. More dancing, less conspiring. All of us are off duty." He winked at me.

I winked back, thinking that a duck demon bandit might prove useful too. Approached the right way, he might agree to have his flock warn me if Taila tried to drown herself or feed herself to a catfish demon. At the very least, perhaps I could convince him to donate some duck eggs to her diet. It wouldn't hurt any humans, plus it would decrease the number of bandits-in-training. The Accountants should like that.

So, what's the plan for tonight? I asked him and Bobo, who was swigging from a flask in resigned silence.

"Same as last night," he replied. "We drink and dance here until His Majesty decides he wants fresh air, and then we drink and dance on land until dawn, and then people show off their stamina by performing the Dawn Dance, and finally we wrap it up with the Chicken Dance. Fun, ain't it?"

It did sound fun. I resolved to memorize the choreography for the Dawn Dance tonight so I could perform it tomorrow.

---

It took three nights for me to become a regular in the Dawn Dance sets. One to memorize the choreography – and two to figure out how to execute it. Turtles aren't the most, shall we say, dexterous of creatures.

And it took under one day for Bobo to blab my secret to the Mistress Jek.

---

I was busy indulging Taila in another game of pretend cooking when it happened. (Which really was a game of pretend, because I had no experience with cooking. The four-year-old knew more than I did.)

"Here's yoooour soup, Mr. Turtle," she sang. She mimed ladling soup out of a cabbage with a stick. "And here's myyyyy soup."

When she made as if to pick up an imaginary bowl in both hands and bring it to her lips, I couldn't stand it anymore.

Stop.

"Huh?" Taila froze, blinking in confusion.

First of all, don't say "huh." It's vulgar.

"Vul-gar?"

Oh, great, she didn't know what that meant, did she? I rephrased, It's rude. Bad manners. You don't want people to think you were raised by raccoon dogs, do you?

"Raccoon dogs?"

Did those not exist anymore, or had she never seen one? If the species had gone extinct since the end of the Serican Empire, I wouldn't miss it. Raccoon dogs tried to steal prey from foxes, so we killed them whenever we could. And people with no taste claimed that they looked cute. Humph.

A raccoon dog is a small creature with dirty grey fur and a black face like it's wearing a bandit's mask. You've never seen one?

Eyes huge, Taila shook her head.

That's for the best. You don't want to. They're mean. So you certainly don't want to act like one. Now sit up straight, leave your bowl on the table, and sip the soup from a spoon.

We didn't have chairs, bowls, spoons, or soup for that matter, but I thought her imagination could supply them. And indeed, she straightened her back and pretended to spoon soup from a bowl in her lap. That cross-legged position had to go too. I did not want to see her bare legs.

Don't sit like that. It's vulgar – rude. Either kneel, or lean to the side a little and fold your legs gracefully.

I really wished I could demonstrate, but I had to settle for talking her through more acceptable feminine postures.

Better, I said at last, grudgingly accepting that a raccoon dog pup wasn't going to transform into an elegant fox overnight. You look less like a savage now –

And that was when Mistress Jek came stomping around the corner, straight at the two of us. Her deportment needed a lot of work too, except I didn't have to look at her as often, so it was more tolerable.

Adopting a vacant expression, I pretended to be a normal turtle that her daughter had coopted.

"YOU!"

Did Mistress Jek yell all the time, or was that her normal speaking voice?

"YOU! TURTLE!"

I blinked at her, then pulled my head and legs into my shell. Behind Mistress Jek slunk Bobo, looking sheepish.

"Missstress Jek, ma'am," she was babbling, "that's an agent of the gods, we have to be polite…."

The woman was having none of it. "YOU! Turtle! What are you doin' in MY yard, and what do the gods want with MY daughter?"

I considered leading her to believe that Bobo was hallucinating, but having Taila's parents obey me seemed more useful. Coming back out of my shell, I fixed Mistress Jek with an imperious stare.

Kneel, woman. You're in the presence of an emissary of the gods.

She snorted. "I'll kneel when I believe it. No god would be interested in us."

I bristled and said in an icy tone, You are correct. No gods are interested in you. It is your daughter who is the object of their attention.

I wasn't sure she'd be able to unravel that sentence, but she got the gist of it. "Why?" she demanded. Her voice was full of suspicion, not at all what you'd expect from a proper, Heaven-fearing peasant. "Who the gods love, die young. What do they want of MY daughter?"

For her not to die young. For her to lead a good life. The same things Mistress Jek wanted, really.

Jek Taila is destined for great things, I proclaimed. She was not meant to squander her life in obscurity in a backwater hovel.

"What things? Why do the gods care what happens to the likes of us?" repeated Mistress Jek stubbornly.

Surely you've heard of reincarnation? Your daughter was an important person in the past. (Hundreds of years in the past.) She will be an important person again in this life. (Maybe. Probably not, though.)

At the mention of reincarnation and past lives, Mistress Jek's shoulders loosened a little, as if that made sense. I supposed that parents always believed their offspring were special. There was still significant distrust in her tone, however, as she asked, "What d'ya mean, `important'? Is she goin' to marry Master Gian's son?"

I had no idea who Master Gian was, but if Mistress Jek knew him, then he couldn't be important. Oh, no, you have to think bigger than that. Unfortunately, I am forbidden to reveal her destiny. I can only say that it does not lie on the banks of Black Sand Creek.

At least, not if I had anything to say about it.

"Hmph." Mistress Jek scowled but conceded, "Well, you talk like one of them scholars up at the castle, so maybe yer telling the truth. But I want proof yer not a kidnapper."

A what?! Who would want Taila???

You go too far, woman! Extending my legs as far as they'd go and raising myself off the ground as far as I could, I lifted my head Heavenward and called, Oh Great Goddess, send a sign to this unbeliever!

I was gambling that no matter how busy Aurelia was, she was still monitoring me and Taila. And indeed, a heartbeat later, golden sparks started to blink into existence like fireflies. More and more appeared, until they solidified into a very harassed-looking Flicker.

Oh, hey, Flicker! She sent you?

Flicker's lips pressed into a thin line. He turned his disapproving stare on Mistress Jek.

At the sight of a glowing, golden entity in flowing robes appearing out of thin air, the woman flung herself to the ground and pressed her forehead into the dirt. Eyes shining with excitement, Bobo flattened herself along the entire length of her belly.

"What in the world is going on here?" Flicker demanded. "I'm busy, you know."

Both the question and irritation were addressed at me, but Mistress Jek assumed he was talking to her. "Forgive me, Great One!" she cried. "Forgive me for interruptin' yer work!"

Still in a lofty tone, I proclaimed, I have been endeavoring to convince this woman that Heaven sent me to watch over her daughter.

Flicker heaved a long sigh, as if he'd expected nothing else, even if he'd hoped against hope. "My name is Flicker," he told Mistress Jek in an exhausted voice. "I am a functionary in the Bureau of Reincarnation in Heaven."

Huh, "functionary." That did sound more prestigious than "third-class clerk."

"For better or for worse, this turtle has been assigned to watch over and guide your daughter to a better life."

Assigned? For better or for worse? Gee, thanks, I told him sarcastically. Of Mistress Jek, I demanded, Now are you satisfied?

"Yes, yes! Forgive me for questionin' Heaven's will, Great Ones!"

"Good, good. Now if that's all sorted out? I have a whole waiting room full of souls."

Flicker's impatience was all aimed at me, but with her face in the dirt, Mistress Jek couldn't tell. "Yes, yes! Forgive me for interruptin' yer work, Great One!"

Flicker started to dissolve back into golden motes.

Wait, before you go, I called, lumbering forward. How did you know to come? Why didn't she come? Did she send you?

"What do you think?" he snapped. "Her actions are far too constrained for her to 'pop' down to Earth whenever she wants, so she ordered me to monitor your actions and assist as necessary. So please don't make it necessary."

That was good to know. Sure.

He heaved another weary sigh, as if he knew how much sincerity went into that single word. Then he blinked out of existence.

Satisfied, I surveyed Mistress Jek, Bobo, and Taila. The woman was slowly getting onto her knees, face pale (and dirty). The viper was writhing with excitement, no doubt at her vindication. And the girl was standing with her hands plunked on her hips and her head cocked to a side, as she had been throughout the conversation.

All right, I announced, if you're done questioning my authority, I have changes to implement here.

---

A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Blacklark57, Celia, Charlotte, Hookshyu, James, Lindsey, Michael, Pred Head, Voligne, and Anonymous!

 

[arianedartagnan]

(I'm posting a day early, because I won't be able to tomorrow.)

Chapter 32: Meet the Family

Oh Great Goddess, send a sign to this unbeliever!

Soul Number 11270's voice crackled out of Aurelia's seal of office, which she kept on the side of her desk. Topped with a gem-encrusted phoenix, the seal was a solid gold block that measured a foot on each side. On the bottom were calligraphic runes for "Bureau of the Sky" that produced a stamp representing the bureau's formal approval.

When Aurelia had first come up to Heaven, after her life on Earth had fallen apart and that evil fox demon had persuaded her own husband to depose and murder her, she'd been assigned to this bureau as a junior star goddess. Her new attendants, Ladies Grus and Dan, had gotten her settled into the Palace of the Hundred Stars and then taken her on a tour of her new workplace. They'd finished in this very office so she could receive an official welcome from the then-Overseer, the Eldest Weaver Maiden.

At the time, Aurelia had thought that the Seal of the Bureau of the Sky resembled a scaled-up version of the seal that she had possessed as Empress of Serica. Now she knew better: All seals on Earth were merely pale imitations of the ones in Heaven. Because the Seal of the Bureau of the Sky was far more than just a stamp or even a symbol of office.

It also functioned as a farseeing device that projected images and sounds into her mind. Technically, it was meant to allow her to supervise logistics throughout Heaven, but recently, Lady Grus had mentioned that using it to survey Heaven only was a tradition, not a restriction on the seal itself. In fact, it was a weaker version of the ones used by the Evening Star's deputies, She Who Hears the Cries of the World and She Who Sees the Suffering of the World. Theirs allowed them to hear and see everything on Earth all at once, with perfect clarity, while Aurelia's required her to concentrate on one specific location.

Aurelia had a feeling she knew why Lady Grus had "happened" to remember that fact, but she'd chosen not to question it. Yet.

Whenever she was alone in her office, she switched the projection to Honeysuckle Croft and watched little Taila grow up. The images and sounds were fuzzy, and the seal drained starlight out of her, exhausting her by the end of the workday and forcing her to hide it from everyone, especially Lady Dan, but it was worth it.

That was how she'd seen the confrontation between Soul Number 11270 and Mistress Jek. Long before the turtle raised its head and called on her for help, Aurelia had already dispatched a note to the Bureau of Reincarnation clerk, Flicker.

Urgent attention needed at Hon. Cr.

She'd sent it via her most trusted star child runner, and the little girl had gotten it safely to the clerk right in time for Flicker to streak down to Earth and calm things down.

Soul Number 11270 seemed particularly impudent, even for a Green Tier soul. Briefly, Aurelia wondered whether she should have waited for a different opportunity and a different soul to assign to Quarta, but then she shook her head. She'd made her choice. She'd weighed her options and gambled on this one.

Now she could only wait and watch to see how it all played out.

---

All right, if you're done questioning my authority, I have changes to implement here, I informed the peasants.

"Yes, yes, Great One!" agreed Mistress Jek at once. "Anythin', Great One!"

Mmmm, "Great One." I did like the sound of that. All those echoes of subservience and implications of slavishness. After so many powerless centuries, it felt good.

Now, where should I start? There were just so many changes I wanted to make to Honeysuckle Croft and its inhabitants. The dirty walls, the filthy rushes, the splintery "furniture," the open fire in the center of the room, the pig and chickens sleeping in the same space as the humans…. Oh – what was I talking about? There was one thing that had to go, right this instant. Without delay. I wouldn't brook its continued existence.

That thing was Taila's manners.

Or lack thereof.

It was completely unacceptable for a child to stay standing – with her hands on her hips, no less! – when her elders were facedown groveling in the dirt before an emissary and an errand boy from Heaven.

And I'd had enough of her flashing her bare legs. No one who was not a wetnurse or a nanny should have to see that much of a child's naked legs.

How had the imperial children had learned etiquette anyway? They were the only young humans I'd spent any significant amount of time around. Although I wracked my brains, all I could remember were regular lessons and constant supervision to enforce proper behavior. Cassia Prima was already a gracious young lady by the time I arrived, but the younger princes and princesses had been locked up in the nursery until they attained a minimum level of competence. And then they'd been assigned – what were they called again? – deportment instructors, to teach them how to walk and dance and greet people, how to distinguish between all the types of bows and genuflections, and so on. After all, you had to know when your social inferior was being respectful, making a genuine mistake, or very subtly mocking you.

I had no idea how to teach all of that in a systematic fashion. I'd never had a deportment instructor myself: I'd observed and mimicked people until I could pass in their social circles and, when all else failed, smoothed my way with a dose of charm. But charm, both the magical and unmagical varieties, wasn't an option for Taila.

Meaning that she needed people to ape.

Meaning that first, I had to teach her parents and older brothers proper manners.

Looking Mistress Jek up and down, I heaved a long sigh.

All right. There are many changes I intend to implement here, but first things first. Etiquette lessons. Call the rest of your family back.

For all her talk of obedience, Mistress Jek balked at once. "But Great One, they're plowin'…. Can't we wait 'til after the plowin's done…?"

Ha. So farmers did plow during the winter. I'd guessed correctly. I spared a moment to congratulate myself on my broad knowledge of peasant activities, and then informed her, They can plow tomorrow.

"But Great One…."

I really couldn't understand why she insisted on arguing with someone while addressing them as "Great One." I made my voice stern. That is enough, woman. Summon your husband and sons. We begin at once, lest you incur the displeasure of Heaven.

The memory of a black-robed figure appearing and disappearing in a shower of golden sparks was still fresh in her mind. Mistress Jek prostrated herself, mumbled something I didn't bother trying to make out, and clomped off. That awkward gait, too, was unacceptable. I had to teach her how to move swiftly yet gracefully.

If I didn't start a list, I was going to forget things. Bobo.

The bamboo viper sprang to my side. "Yes! Rosssie! How can I help? How can I help?"

Aaaand there was another person who needed to learn proper diction.

Say: "Yes, Mistress Rosette. How may I be of assistance?" I corrected her. That sounds more elegant.

"Yes, Misss-tress Ro-sssette. How may I be of a-sssisss-tanssse?" she parroted.

Never mind, that's even worse. Now, then. You, Bobo the Bamboo Viper Spirit, shall be my teaching assistant, I proclaimed, making it sound like an honor on par with deification.

"Okay! Okay!" Bobo contorted in excitement. Then she froze mid-twist. "What's a teaching a-sssisss-tant?"

You will help me teach.

"Okay!"

First, I want you to get some paper and start taking notes for me.

All that perfectly reasonable request got me was a confused look. "'Paper'? Like the ssstuff they usssed in the Empire?"

Wait, do you not have paper anymore? How can you not have paper?!

I couldn't believe it. For hundreds of years, Sericans had produced paper for their documents and books and scrolls and paintings and interminable calligraphy competitions. They'd taken such pride in the technology! How had their descendants simply lost it?

Bobo looked even more bewildered. "Ummmm…I've heard of 'paper,' but I've never ssseen it. It's one of the things people talk about when they talk about all the things we can't make anymore. Ummm…the Baron might have parchment. Do you want me to go asssk him for sssome?"

I most definitely did not want to drag more people into this. (At least, not yet.) No. We'll make do without. Just get a stick or use your tail and write in the dirt while I dictate.

The snake curled in on herself until she resembled a silk-knotted button. "Ummm… Ummm… I can't write…."

What? You can't write?

"No…. Nobody here can…"

I sighed again. That was something I should have thought of. Even during the Lang Dynasty, illiteracy had been widespread in rural Serica. I'd forgotten that because I'd spent my memorable years in the cities, where Cassius' forebears had established elementary schools for all children to attend. Say what you will about me, but at least as prime minister, I'd continued to fund public education. (Or, to be more precise, the inertia of the Imperial bureaucracy had continued to fund it while I wreaked havoc in the court.)

But that was irrelevant. What was relevant was that I'd have to teach Taila to read and write on top of everything else.

Speaking of her, the girl had been quiet for a suspiciously long time now. When I looked around, she was back by the cottage, digging a hole in the wall with a sharp rock. She'd already exposed the woven willow branches that formed the basic framework of her home. Great.

Taila! Stop that this instant! I snapped before realizing how much I sounded like Mistress Jek.

With a pout, Taila stood, planting her feet a shoulder's width apart. One hand moved up to scratch the back of her neck, while the other fished around in her threadbare pocket.

Taila! Stop scratching. Stand up straight this instant.

"Huh?"

And don't say 'huh?' It's vulgar.

She started to say "huh?" again but swallowed it at my glare. She didn't stand up any straighter though. What was wrong with this child? I fumed to myself. Weren't children supposed to obey their elders?

Although…now that I thought about it, Cassia Quarta hadn't been that obedient either. I'd simply handed her back to her nanny when she started fussing. I spared a moment of longing for the servant whose name I'd never bothered to learn.

About that time, voices began drifting from the direction of the fields. The adult male one was complaining about "ridgin' the soil" and "too wet" and "rot!" I didn't know what wetness had to do with anything, but rot did sound bad.

Whatever. I just wanted one measly afternoon of Master Jek's time. He could go back to his "ridgin'" tomorrow.

By the time the Jeks came into view, I was already facing their way and waiting. Master and Mistress Jek clomped along in front, with their sons milling at their heels. Yes, I definitely needed to teach them how to move. All of them walked as if they were stalking along, the soles of their shoes thwacking the ground with every step. And their backs and shoulders were hunched, making them resemble turtles pulling their heads into their shells. One boy was even picking his nose with a filthy pinky. Gross.

Unexpectedly, Master Jek, whom I'd assumed was subservient to his wife, was the louder of the two right now. "Wastin' good light!" he was exclaiming, while she made soothing noises that failed to calm him. "Winter days are short!"

When they came to stop before me, she sank to her knees in a clumsy genuflection, but he stayed upright in the same spread-footed posture as Taila's, his fists on his hips. She must have picked up that pose from both of her parents. Just another reason I needed to educate the whole family.

"What's goin' on?" Master Jek demanded. "Yer sayin' this turtle was sent by the gods?"

Before anyone could protest, he stooped, pinched my shell between his thumb and forefinger, and held me up in front of his nose.

Hey! Put me down! I tried to command, but he was squeezing the breath out of me and it came out more like a squeak.

My order was seconded by Mistress Jek and Bobo's cries of horror, but it was Taila's wail that drowned out all of us. "Mr. Turtle! Don't hurt Mr. Turtle!" She ran up to her father and started to climb his leg.

"You drug us away from the plowin' for this – this prank? Yer crazy! Crazy or drunk!" Master Jek yelled at his wife. Then he turned on Bobo. "What've you done, spirit? Are you turnin' my wife into a drunk too?"

"No, Master Jek!" she cried. "I'm not – we didn't – I never – "

Meanwhile, Taila's brothers were clustering around to offer their expert opinions. "That looks like a pond turtle." "Yup, that's a pond turtle." "Bit small, but they taste good." "Maybe toss it back 'til it gets bigger?" "Naw, it's big enough to eat. Gus's ma cooks 'em even smaller." "Ma says Gus's ma is an id-yit what can't cook."

The shortest boy tugged on one of Taila's pigtails. "Hey, Taila, want turtle soup tonight?"

Taila started shrieking, "No! Noooo! NOOOOOO! That's Mr. Turtle! Mr. Turtle is my friend!" which only made her brothers laugh.

"Turtles are food, like pigs and chickens, sillyhead. They're not friends. 'Less they're spirits," the same boy informed her. "That look like a spirit to ya? Spirits are aaaaaancient. That's just a baby. Like you. Mebe we'll eat you too!"

Well, that brother had to be the "Nailus" who'd told her "all about spirits." The tallest boy must be the oldest brother, who'd inherit the farm from Master Jek, and the middling-height one was probably the "Second Brother" who was maybe going to get apprenticed to the village basket maker. All three of them looked pretty weedy, and their clothing fit poorly – some articles were too baggy, some too short, and all of them were patched and worn.

My examination complete, I glared at Master Jek. Show some respect, peasant, lest Heaven strike you down where you stand. Then I craned my neck as far as I could and bit his thumb.

I didn't do any real damage, but the nip plus my voice shocked him. With a shout, he dropped me.

Down I tumbled, towards Taila's outstretched palms. Her brothers' dirty hands shot out, but she got me first and cradled me to her chest.

This had turned into a farce. I didn't even want to imagine what Aurelia thought of me right now.

Squirming, I stuck my head back out through Taila's fingers, right in time to hear Mistress Jek bellow, "ENUFF!"

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A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Blacklark57, Celia, Charlotte, Hookshyu, James, Lindsey, Michael, Pred Head, Voligne, and Anonymous!