The Night Itself

by Zoe Marriott

  The katana’s energy buzzed hard against my palm. I switched my grip, bringing the saya diagonally across my body so that my left hand held the sheath and my right could clasp the hilt. Hopefully it made me look confident and warlike, not nervous and injured. Hopefully.

  It seemed to take for ever to reach the bottom of the slope, so long that by the time we got there I was wondering if Hikaru had been a bit skimpy with the truth on the Narnia-time thing. Then someone seemed to hit the fast-forward button and suddenly we were across the bottom of the amphitheatre and a few feet away from the base of the low hill. I felt the gazes of the foxes there like drops of heated lead landing on my face. In spite of Hikaru’s warning, it was excruciatingly hard not to sneak a peek at the king’s expression, just to gauge his mood.

  Curiosity killed the girl, Mio. Eyes down!

  A step in front of me, Hikaru came to a halt and gracefully folded himself into a kneeling position. I followed his example, trying not to let on how grateful my wobbly knees were for the chance to give up the ghost. The telltale rustles of fabric behind me let me know that Jack and Shinobu were doing the same.

  I dropped my forehead down to rest on the back of my hands, making sure to keep my katana firmly under my palms. The silence stretched on. I closed my eyes as the urge to glance up at the king started to plague me again. What was he doing up there? Playing Parcheesi?

  “Rise, Grandchild.”

  It was a soft, young-sounding voice, but the power in it sent shivers of fear prickling down my spine. I’d have been an idiot to believe I was hearing anyone but the King of the Kitsune speaking. In a weird way it reminded me of the Harbinger’s voice. They didn’t really sound anything alike, but they both carried those uncanny, almost painful echoes of power that made me feel as if I needed to fall down and beg. Lucky for me I was already as close to the floor as I could get.

  I squeezed my eyes shut tighter – then snapped them open as I heard Hikaru move.

  He was on his feet. My brain executed a full stop as I realized what that meant. The king had been talking to Hikaru.

  Hikaru was the king’s grandchild?

  When had he been planning on sharing that little gem of info?

  “You may address me,” the king said gravely.

  “Thank you, Grandfather,” Hikaru said. “And thank you again for agreeing to see me and my friends with such little notice. The bearer of the meitou, Yamato Mio-dono, wishes me to convey her gratitude.”

  “Oh, does she?” the powerful voice said softly. “And does she also have an explanation for her presumption in keeping me waiting in my own court?”

  Hell. Am I supposed to look up now, or speak into the grass, or what?

  Hikaru answered before I could make up my mind. “I am afraid the responsibility for the delay lies with me. I apologize deeply. I would not insult you for anything, Grandfather.”

  “Explain.” There was a hint of a growl underlying the soft voice.

  “I believed that the transformation ward had been uninvoked, and so I failed to protect my friends from it when they stepped onto our soil. This caused an unavoidable delay.”

  Ominous silence purred against my skin.

  “The ward was uninvoked.” The growl was more obvious now. “I did it myself.”

  “I know. I watched you. And yet when I returned, the spell was active. I have no explanation for this – but if you wish to check it, you will find it to be so.”

  There was a tiny hissing noise to my left. From the white fox? Had he or she been stupid enough to leave the ward in place? Or maybe just not powerful enough to close it again after forcing it open against the king’s wishes?

  “Araki-san!” the king barked.

  “Hikaru-san is correct,” Araki said respectfully. “I checked after hearing his story, since we were in the area. The ward is active.”

  The purr against my skin became a rumble. Oh, the king was seriously annoyed now. The question was with whom? Don’t look up, don’t look up…

  “Such a breach of the right of safe passage is unacceptable, regardless of the circumstances,” the king said finally. His voice was smooth again, all traces of annoyance gone. “The Court of the Kitsune apologizes to the sword-bearer and her retinue for this error.”

  A gasp or a sigh went round the amphitheatre, disturbing the fine hairs on the back of my neck. Some of the tension drained out of the atmosphere, and the trembling muscles in my shoulders unknotted. But only a little. We’d dodged the first bullet. There was no telling how many more might be aimed at us.

  “I should have known that you would not keep me waiting without good cause, Hikaru,” the king went on, a trace of warmth in his tone now. “You have done well to deal with such a challenge alone. I commend you. You may return to your family now.”

  “Grandfather, if it pleases you, I wish to remain with my friends.”

  Another gasp – of shock this time, I was sure – filled the space around me.

  “As you wish,” the king said, amused.

  The gasp transmuted into a rush of excited whispers that covered Hikaru’s retreat. He knelt down next to me this time, but I saw from the corner of my eye that he remained upright rather than bowing his head.

  “Grandson?” Jack hissed behind me.

  “Great-great-great-grandson,” Hikaru mumbled. “One of a dozen. And he doesn’t play favourites, believe me.”

  Hmm. Obviously Hikaru knew his grandfather better than I did, but it had sounded to me as if the king liked Hikaru and had been relieved to have an excuse not to punish him.

  “Quiet!” Araki snapped.

  I jumped. The Kitsune in the bowl went silent instantly.

  “The sword-bearer may rise and address the king,” Araki said.

  That was my cue. Don’t mess this up, Mio. For the love of God, do not mess this up.

  Twitchingly conscious of the eyes fastened on my every movement, I sat, eased back onto my heels, and rose, bringing my katana to my right side in the same movement. I fixed my gaze on the neat, red set of paws directly ahead of me on the jade-green hill, and took one step forwards. That’s close enough for me.

  “Greetings, sword-bearer,” the king said.

  He’d switched the power up again. It took everything I had not to buckle to my knees. My fingers tightened on the sword sheath so much that my knuckles cracked audibly.

  Show no fear, show no fear, show no fear…

  “Greetings, Your Majesty.” The words came out high and breathless, like a kid answering a teacher on the first day of school.

  “My grandson has told me of your quest to save your friend’s sister from the Nekomata which has been unleashed on London. He vouches that you are a valiant warrior with whom it would be prudent to ally ourselves.” The king paused. “He also speaks of the meitou you carry, a sword of mysterious origin and great power. Before we discuss the business that brings you here, I would hear some information which Hikaru was unable to share with me. Tell me how you came to wield such a weapon and call yourself its guardian.”

  With extreme reluctance I opened my mouth – and snapped it shut again as the white fox stirred, sat upright, and spoke. The fox’s voice was deep and musical, feminine, with a strong Japanese accent. Her eyes, resting on me, were wide and golden. “I hesitate to interrupt, Grandfather, but I would like to say something before the petitioner begins her little story.”

  Little story? Hikaru hadn’t said anything about not looking this one in the face. I gave her my best blank look. She tossed her head, unimpressed.

  “Since you have already spoken without my leave, Midori-san, you may as well go on,” the king said, without warmth. Grandfather or not, it looked like he wasn’t fond of this one.

  “My humble apologies, Your Majesty,” the female fox said. There was a slight bite in her tone. “But I dislike seeing our time squandered. My grandnephew has told you an affecting tale in which he alleges that this scrap of a mortal girl is the rightful owner of that sword. A sword wh
ich, even from here, I can sense is not of mortal creation. She claims to be its guardian. Such a claim is preposterous. Her tale is a fabrication, and her purpose is to deceive us into endangering our people.”

  Any doubt about the white fox’s involvement in the fox trap was gone now. She was definitely our enemy. But why?

  “You speak very decidedly,” the king said. His voice was neutral, and I couldn’t tell if he was being swayed by her argument or not. “Do you dismiss Hikaru’s words as easily as that?”

  The white fox’s ears twitched a little. “Your love for your newest descendant is well known, Sire – but even you must admit that one who has not yet reached his first century, one born here in this country of concrete and glass, is hardly the best judge in matters magical or political. Hika-chan is soft-hearted and inexperienced. His testimony is not to be relied on.”

  There were more murmurs from the gathered foxes. Shock, annoyance and maybe … speculation? I still didn’t dare to look at the king directly, but the brightening flashes of light coming from his direction told me that his power was ramping up in response. Midori was challenging the king with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the face. And she was using us to do it.

  She might or might not believe what she was saying, but either way she didn’t care that if she kept talking, all of us, and Rachel, and probably other innocent people in London, would most likely die under the Nekomata’s claws.

  “May I speak now?”

  The hard, determined voice cut through the soft whispering of the foxes. I almost didn’t recognize it as mine.

  The white fox bared her pearly fangs at me. A crackle of greenish electricity arced between the furthest of her fanned tails. “Keep your silence until you are commanded to speak, human.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say? The king just commanded me to speak. You’re the one who interrupted. Or do you think your orders take precedence now?”

  Behind me I heard Jack’s awed whisper. “Oh no she didn’t.”

  Hikaru made a choked noise. Shinobu was silent. That probably wasn’t good.

  The king laughed, but the sound had an edge like a razor. “Peace, sword-bearer. Midori-san, if you are so convinced that the meitou cannot belong rightfully to this mortal, perhaps you will tell us where and how you believe she came by it?”

  The white fox’s muzzle smoothed back into place over her fangs. Dread made my stomach twist.

  “It is perfectly simple, Grandfather,” she said sweetly. “The sword was stolen from the Nekomata.”

  CHAPTER 19

  TRUTH

  This time the foxes didn’t bother to keep their reaction down to a whisper. The amphitheatre erupted with shouting voices, as the foxes came to their feet in a wave of lashing tails and flashing teeth. As far as I could make out, they were roughly divided between those who were outraged over the very idea of the katana ever belonging to a creature like a Nekomata and those who had bought Midori’s words wholesale and wanted me burned at the stake, preferably in the next thirty seconds.

  Midori wrapped one of her fluffy tails round her feet as neatly as a cat and sat back, apparently satisfied with the dissent she had caused. The temptation abruptly became too much and I sneaked a glance at the king’s face. His eyes were burning, moss-green slits in his face, which I took to mean that he was as far from happy as a fox could get.

  Hikaru stepped up beside me, and despite the fact that they were currently a different species, the resemblance between him and his many-greats-grandfather was very evident in his furiously glittering eyes.

  “Silence!” Araki roared. “Control yourselves!”

  No one followed Araki’s orders. It took a few sizzles of lightning from one of the king’s tails to get everyone’s attention.

  “You wish to address us again, Hikaru?” the king said into the ensuing quiet. His voice was calm, but the constant flash of energy around his tails was a giveaway about his real mood.

  “My aunt’s claims are false, and I can prove it,” Hikaru said tightly. “We have a witness here who is known to you personally, Sire. It is a provable fact that this witness is over five hundred years old. He will vouch for the sword-bearer.”

  The king’s whiskers twitched. “An excellent point, my thoughtful child. Let Shinobu, helper of foxes, rise and step forward.”

  Shinobu appeared beside me. Jack was right behind him. I was pretty sure that technically she should still have been lying face down on the grass, but in the middle of this mess it looked like no one was in the mood to quibble over protocol. Jack’s mouth was clamped into a tight, pale line. I hoped she managed to keep it together. We were in enough trouble.

  “Speak, Shinobu,” the king commanded. “What have you to say about the sword?”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Shinobu said, bowing deeply. “I can personally testify that the sword has been in the Yamato family for five hundred years. In fact, it was given to me by my adoptive father for my seventeenth birthday. In the centuries since then, the family have faithfully guarded it. It has never belonged to anyone else.”

  “This is fantasy!” Midori jumped in. “Anyone with eyes can tell that the sword’s power far predates that. It is ancient. No mortal smith could have imbued a weapon with such energy. Do you have some convenient tale to explain how an ordinary human sword came to blaze with a light that rivals the stars?”

  Shinobu’s jaw clenched.

  The king let out a tiny sigh. “Answer her.”

  “I do not,” Shinobu admitted, his voice rough. “I don’t remember.”

  The white fox snapped at the air in triumph. “You see? Humans cannot be trusted – even immortal ones. This Yamato family are thieves who have run to us to gain shelter from the consequences of their crime. We should hand the humans and the sword over to the Nekomata. It will be satisfied and leave London, and the mortals will be duly punished for having trifled with us.”

  “Are you mad?” someone shouted from the terraces. “Hand over an object of power to a creature of the Underworld?”

  Miyako leapt to her paws, tails whisking the air. “Do not dare to address my mistress in such terms!”

  “Be quiet before you get fried!” someone else called.

  Another fox cried, “Disgraceful! The humans have polluted our assembly!”

  The air of calm and reverent respect which had filled the court when we had arrived was completely destroyed. The king – whom I was staring at openly now, because it hardly seemed to matter – seemed like he was about to spontaneously combust. His fur had fluffed up around his body until he looked twice his original size and tiny sparks of electricity danced among the lustrous strands.

  With great deliberation, the blue-grey fox on the king’s right uncurled and stretched out its front paws. As it turned its head I saw that its eyes were opaque and milky white. It was blind.

  The amphitheatre instantly went quiet. A sense of expectation quivered through the foxes. The king bowed his head to look respectfully at the fox below him and Midori’s green lightning blazed around her. She bared her fangs. Miyako cringed.

  “Yes, Tetsuo-san?” the king said.

  When the grey fox – Tetsuo – spoke his voice was low and rumbling, with an accent that sounded Russian to me. “Might I propose a solution?”

  “By all means, my friend.”

  “The issue is that of rightful possession, correct?”

  “Correct,” Midori snapped.

  “A meitou is a tremendously powerful weapon,” Tetsuo went on, as if Midori had not spoken. “But it may indeed be stolen, and even wielded, by a thief with sufficient daring. However, such a thief could never awaken the sword’s full strength, for he would not know its true name. That is a gift which the meitou would only bestow upon its true owner. Therefore, let the child attempt to speak the katana’s true name and summon its power. If she is able to do so, she will be proved to be its guardian, and as such, deserving of our respect and cooperation. If not, perhaps Midori-san’s su
ppositions have some weight.”

  The king nodded slowly. “You are wise as always, Tetsuo-san. I can think of no better way to settle this dispute.”

  True name? Awaken the sword? I cast a horrified look at Shinobu. His expression made me want to throw up. He had no idea either. Would they really hand us over to the Nekomata? Hand over the sword? What would happen to Jack and Rachel then? What would happen to Shinobu?

  Dammit, Ojiichan. If you were going to give me the katana, why did you have to be so bloody mysterious about it? Would a sealed letter laying all this out have been too much to ask? A Post-it on the trunk in the attic maybe? “BTW here are some facts you need to know…” Anything! I’m flying blind here!

  “Your Majesty,” Shinobu said, his tone carefully blank of the desperation I could see in his eyes. “To speak the true name of the katana here in the spirit realm might have unexpected consequences. It could be extremely dangerous—”

  What had my grandfather actually told me about the sword? Hardly anything really. Or had my memory just wiped it out as time had passed, like so many other things?

  “Cease your lies,” Midori cried. “There is no power wielded by any mortal alive that could threaten us. Get on with it. The thief and her half-breed accomplice have already trespassed here long enough.”

  “Half-breed?” Jack rocked back on her heels. I could almost hear the crack as her temper, held in check for so long, began to give way under the strain. “Is she talking about me?”

  “Jack.” Hikaru tried to grab her arm. “Calm down.”

  “Did she just call me a half-breed?”

  Midori’s tails lashed. “You are a half-breed – a graceless, impure mongrel. The worst kind of human.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jack yelped. “Come down here and say that, you furry albino!”

  Come on, Ojiichan. Help me out. I closed my eyes, thinking frantically and forcing myself back into my memory of that long-ago afternoon in the attic. I strained after the echoes of Ojiichan’s voice.