by Paul Kidd
He lay on blank stone, a few paces from the edge of the simmering hot baths. Kuno croaked. Somehow, he managed to reach forward. He dragged himself painfully forward, piece by piece, feeling the heat right there before him. Stiff and dazed, he finally caught the rim of the baths beneath his fingers. He pulled himself forward and fell fully-clothed into the water.
“Kuno!”
Chiri came thrashing from the edge of the womens’ baths, erupting naked from the water. She plunged into the baths beside Kuno and struggled to lift his head up.
Sura and Tonbo came racing from the women’s baths around to the men’s. Tonbo leapt naked into the water, helping to haul Kuno up so that he could breathe. He seized Kuno’s longsword and tossed it away onto the shore.
Sura wiped still-frozen slush from Kuno’s hair and face. Chiri anxiously rubbed at his arms and hands, trying to bring back the circulation.
“He’s almost frozen!”
Kuno was moving – trying to speak. Sura and Tonbo helped to tear off the man’s heavy, sodden clothing. Tonbo held up Kuno’s forearms, seeing broad, angry red marks that had been burned into Kuno’s skin. Sura inspected the marks, scowling in concern. Tonbo looked at her and shrugged, quite lost for ideas.
“Frostbite?”
They dragged off Kuno’s clothing and laboriously pushed it up onto the rim of the baths. The fox took a little wash bucket and tenderly ran hot water across Kuno’s face.
“You idiot! Got yourself lost in the snow, didn’t you?” She fussed over him, making certain that he was coming back to his senses. “It’s alright. Just a bit chilled. Heh – you came back to the right place, anyway. Just lie there for a while.”
Sura sat back and left Kuno in Chiri’s hands, shaking herself dry like a dog. She hastily ran a towel over herself, then dashed back naked in the snowfall to fetch her clothing. She came back with everyone’s clothes bundled in her arms, her spear balanced awkwardly on top. Piling everything under the roof of the covered section of the pool, she hastily began to dress, her breath puffing in the cold.
Tonbo came out of the water and dried himself. He looked at Kuno and pondered.
“The storm is not intense enough to chill him this badly. Did he have an accident?”
Sura was tying on her snow boots. Her hair still hung long, wet and untied at her back.
“Probably reciting poems and walked into a snow drift.” She stamped her boots into place, and shoved her kodachi through her belt. She was moving with speed. “I’ll go get some clothes and a goblin wine.
Chiri looked up from the pool.
“Goblin wine will warm him up?”
“Him?” The fox pretended to blink. “You’re right! Better make that two goblin wines!
Sura turned, took up her spear, and bundled Kuno’s sodden clothes beneath her arm. She then saw Kuno’s short sword lying a little way away, over by the path.
The weapon was unsheathed. There was ice frozen about the handle wrapping – a mark as broad as a human hand. The fox crossed and knelt beside the sword.
There were tracks there – surely Kuno’s. But it almost looked like drag marks, as though someone had towed a body here through the snow.
Tonbo came up beside her, wrapping himself in his robe. He saw the drag marks, and looked sharply up along the trial. But the snow was already falling thickly. The marks were filling, and had almost disappeared.
There was a single flower lying there on the path beside Kuno’s short sword. A snow blossom – small and white. Tonbo carefully picked up the flower, and then tuned as he heard Kuno stir in Chiri’s arms.
Kuno stared at the flower, utterly amazed.
Out in the snow, far from the heat and steam, a white-haired maiden spied upon the Spirit Hunters in silence. She watched the rat spirit tenderly caring for Kuno, and slowly gripped a tree beside her with her claws.
Frost spread over the tree around her long, sharp fingers. The maiden watched for a moment more, then vanished silently back into the storm.
Chapter 4
The inn’s common room became a little hive of activity. Kuno was rugged up, given two layers of socks and warm robes. Tonbo massaged and pummelled him, while Chiri stoked a charcoal brazier. Bifuuko fanned the flames and Daitanishi perched on Kuno’s knee and just gravely regarded the man’s face from below.
Sura had broken out the suits of armour, setting them in a row along the wall. She now busied herself at the brazier, heating something incredibly fragrant in a little pot. The fox looked back across her shoulder as she poured the potion into drinking bowls.
“A flute player? All the way out there?” She hustled a cup of hot drink into Kuno’s hands. “Wait – wait! Hot plum wine, ginger, herbs and spice!” She presented the drink with pride. “It’s a fox remedy!”
Kuno sipped the drink. It was eye-wateringly potent! The man winced, swallowed, and made a face.
“A remedy for what?”
“Basically for not being a fox!” Sura settled herself down with a hot drink in hand. “Humans usually need cheering up. I think it’s tail envy!”
Sura drank – raising her cup to Kuno – relieved that he seemed to be recovering. She made certain he drank his entire cup down. The fox settled herself and looked at Kuno in interest.
“So what did she look like, this flute player?”
Kuno’s lips were cracked. Chiri came and dabbed at them gently with one of her ointments. Kuno winced.
His voice was wistful.
“Beautiful. Black hair – long, long black hair. Blue robes. A pale face, full of sadness. She played like… like a goddess.” He quietly looked off towards the mountain. “A lost, grieving goddess…”
Tonbo narrowed his eyes, still kneading Kuno’s shoulders.
“Hmph. Or a ghost.”
Chiri watched Kuno in deep concern.
“So she played, Kuno san, and the music drew you on?”
“No no. I went of my own accord. The music was exquisite. Full of such sadness.” The man still seemed dazed. “I wanted to find out who had brought such beauty into life.”
Tonbo looked to Sura.
“You have an idea?”
The fox swished her tail. “I have my professional suspicions.”
Chiri tilted her head. “Sura san – could it be the dead shugenja’s ghost?”
“Quite possibly.”
Kuno was positively annoyed. He pushed a layer of quilts off his knees and glared at the fox.
“Why must you always look for the most complex explanation? It was a young woman from the village, out in the snow!”
Sura looked at the man and quirked up one brow. “Yah – or a ghost-thingy out for some kind of weird revenge on the universe!”
Kuno glowered. “By playing her flute?”
It did sound just a tad far-fetched. Sura settled into place and gave a sulk.
“Hey – I’m a Spirit Hunter! Excuse me if I like to explore the creepiest possible scenario!” Sura waved a hand. “Just saying – flutes, blizzards... No good will come! Listen to the fox! The fox is smart the fox is wise.”
Chiri gave a little bow.
“Excuse me, Sura san – but the woman was clearly not malicious. Perhaps she even helped Kuno san to escape and to survive?”
Kuno was quite impatient with it all.
“This was not an apparition. A ghost does not pick a fully grown man up and carry him for a whole ri through the snow!”
Sura scratched at her ear. “You were in shock. Perhaps you walked all by yourself?”
Kuno clearly felt quite stung.
“The girl was real! She was there!”
The fox was not convinced. She swirled a cup of mulled wine, her mind exploring suspicious little paths as she thoughtfully eyed Kuno. Embarrassed by their contention, Chiri quietly made tea and offered the first cup into Kuno’s hands.
“Forgive us, Kuno san. We are suspicious by profession, not by inclination. If a woman saved your life, then we all owe her a great debt
.” The rat spirit gave a sincere, quiet bow. “We can ask after her in the village tomorrow, and express our thanks to her in person.”
Kuno gave a gruff nod – still eyeing the fox. He drank his tea, then set the cup aside.
The winds outside shook and wrestled with the trees. There was a deepening chill in the air. Kuno frowned and shrugged his robes close about his shoulders.
“The storm is growing more fierce.” Kuno gave a nod. “I believe I will go to bed. I am more shaken than I thought.” The man arose, gathering up his swords. “Good day to you all.”
Kuno stood and headed for the door. Chiri demurely arose to go with him.
“I will accompany you, Kuno san, and see you to your room.”
“That is not necessary.” Kuno bowed stiffly to one and all. “Goodnight, Chiri san.”
He left, moving firmly off into the corridors. Chiri was left behind, hurt and bereft.
Sura looked clandestinely at the rat. She sighed and put her pot back onto the coals to heat – adding in more ingredients. Chiri sat and listlessly groomed her elementals, while Tonbo went to the door and briefly gazed out into the storm.
Sunset was coming. The light had dimmed, and the skies were dark with clouds. Snow flew in drifting horizontal winds, scattering flakes all across the porch. Tonbo sealed the door again, and headed back to the warmth.
The inn remained oddly deserted: the inn mistress and her son were elusive. It seemed some sort of dinner was on the way – Sura could smell roasting hare and hot, savoury soup. Excellent choices for a cold, windy night.
Sura stirred her pot of mulled wine, then carefully poured out three brimming cups. She presented the first cup quietly to Chiri.
“Things will be better in the morning, Chiri san.” The fox sighed, then raised her cup in salute to her friends. “Kampai!”
Outside the inn, the wind moaned as it twisted through the trees. Tonbo looked towards the outer door, and gave a brooding nod.
“We are going onto guard routine. One person armed and awake at all times.” He nodded meaningfully towards Sura’s cup. “Sober and awake.”
The fox made a noise of weary resignation.
“I just knew you’d say that…”
Sura sipped at her mulled wine, and listened to the ice cold wind outside. She pulled warm robes about her shoulders.
“Yeah – I’m thinking this might be a good night to stay indoors.” She nudged at the little earth elemental. “Hey Daitanishi! Board games tonight?”
The little rock brightened and bustled off to find the e-sugoroku ‘snakes and ladders’ boards. They all settled in to enjoy a quiet evening – keeping weapons and armour close at hand.
Outside the inn, the cold wind blew…
By midnight, the storm had vanished. With the winds stilled, the world out on the mountain lay hushed and quiet. Snow had blown into deep drifts against the windward side of the inn, and the pine trees were shrouded white.
Chiri and Sura shared a room together, with a charcoal brazier glowing merrily away beside them. Both were in their animal forms, fluffed up and nestling deep in their quilts. Daitanishi and Bifuuko were happily snuggled next to Chiri, both dozing peacefully in the warmth.
Sura slept curled in a fluffy ball, nose to tail. Somehow a pair of monkeys had found their way indoors: both were sleeping on the foot of her bed. The larger monkey snored, occasionally twitching its back feet as it chased something in its dreams.
In the common room next door, Tonbo sat with his back against a pillar, fully armoured and fully armed. A charcoal brazier beside him lit the room with a rich red glow.
The faint, soft sound of a flute came drifting through the air. It seemed to ebb and curl in the deep, warm gloom, hovering just outside the edge of clear perception. Tonbo half heard the sound. His head nodded, and his eyes slowly closed. He quietly fell asleep, still sitting upright with his tetsubo across his lap.
The flute music whispered softly – fading then drifting back: a soft, sad call from the pure white snow.
In his own room, Kuno sat slowly up in his bed. He sensed the very faintest hint of music. Scowling, he rose, walking over to open the door to the outside world.
The snow lay deep and flawless all over the ground. The air was stark and cold. The clouds had gone, and stars sparkled up above. The faintest chink of moonlight sent highlights glittering across the tops of snow-clad trees.
The music seemed clearer now. It came from somewhere off beyond the trees, far off in the night. Kuno stood for a long moment, listening, trying to pin the music down.
He fetched his swords and coat. His straw boots were still damp, but serviceable enough. The samurai dressed silently then walked out onto the porch.
The flute music was definitely there – it was not merely imagined. Settling his swords in his belt, Kuno made his way down the porch steps and out into the deep, thick snow.
The music was clearly coming from somewhere to the north. He set off into the trees, wading doggedly onward through the snow towards the haunting sound.
In the sky above, the waning moon vanished slowly behind a veil of clouds…
The first tiny hint of dawn edged the eastern sky. A faint ghost of light changed the skies from deep black to purple-grey. The charcoal braziers had burned down, and the inn’s common room was a place of velvet shadow.
A whisper of grey daylight crept in through the paper-covered windows, glowing between the slats of the wooden shutter. It reached slowly across the floor of the common room, finally creeping across Tonbo’s sleeping form.
The big samurai drifted gently awake – unaware that he had ever been asleep. He looked up as the door to Kuno’s room slid open quietly, and Kuno walked softly into the darkened room.
Kuno was dressed in his armour, with his helmet under one arm. Kuno knelt beside Tonbo, set his helmet beside him, and gave a short, quiet bow. He spoke softly, so as not to awaken the others.
“Tonbo my friend. Get a few hours of sleep. I shall take the watch.”
Tonbo gave a grateful grunt. He heaved himself up onto his feet. Kuno poured more charcoal into the fire and stirred it all around, bringing a fresh hot glow into the gloom.
“The women are still asleep. I shall rouse you for a late breakfast.” Kuno bowed to his comrade. “Good night, my friend.”
Kuno sat back against the pillar. He yawned, feeling tired, and rolled his head to crack at his stiff neck.
Tonbo collected his tetsubo and sleepily headed towards his room. As he passed Kuno, he saw that the man’s upper shins were damp: Kuno’s hakama were wet clean through. Tonbo noted it, and paused. He tried to think – but his mind was strangely fogged and slow.
Tonbo rubbed at his eyes, shrugged, and forgot the whole affair. He headed on into his room, wearily shed his layers of heavy iron armour, clanking them down into position by his bed. The big man ejected a monkey, threw come charcoal into the room’s brazier, and finally settled yawning into bed.
With luck, he might get three hours sleep before yet another crisis arose. The samurai flopped backwards into his bed, pulled up the quilts, and drifted off to sleep with his tetsubo lying at his side.
The bright light of morning struck a dazzle from great heaps and drifts of snow. The village rooves were smothered white, and the pathways had disappeared beneath a knee-deep blanket. The air was razor-sharp with cold.
Having availed herself of rice milk, sweet porridge, omelette rolls, rice, pickles, fried pork and pickled plums, Sura was keen to head to the village and find something else to eat. She was also keen to snoop about and see what could be seen. There was a mystery in the air, and the fox had a sly, lively twist to her tail. With breastplate in place and her spear across her shoulder, Sura felt ready for holiday fun.
Kuno and Tonbo were in full armour, helmets hanging at their backs. Daitanishi wafted along at Chiri’s side, looking suspiciously left and right. Villagers saw the Spirit Hunters approaching and immediately found excuses to be elsewhere. Pe
ople looked back over their shoulders, hastening guiltily away. Sura watched them go, scratching thoughtfully at her chin.
They passed the deserted pottery shop, wading awkwardly through a deep drift of loose, crisp snow. Sura dusted herself off and craned her neck to peer off down the street.
“The tea house is just down here. It was kind of cute. They’re sure to do lunch!”
Tonbo flicked a glance at the fox. “We have only just eaten breakfast.”
“Hey – we’re adventurers! We need to try out local cuisines! Local tastes, scents, specialities – dysentery!” The fox shot a considering glance towards the peasants hiding behind shuttered windows. “Plus it’s the only place I’ve seen these people gather. We need to scope out the locals.”
Kuno stifled an enormous yawn behind his hand. Sura tilted back her fur hat and gave the man a glance.
“You seem tired. You’ve slept all morning!”
The man gave a nod, yawning once again. “I believe my need for a holiday was great.” He peered off down the street. “So where was this tea house?”
The fox extricated her left leg from a snow drift. “At the end of the street.”
At the far end of the street, the old priestess appeared. She came walking from the forest graveyard, head bowed and face troubled. The old woman drew robes about herself against the chill, and walked quietly away.
Chiri watched the woman, her pink eyes full of compassion.
“The old priestess has been sacrificing again. She is most diligent.”
Tonbo frowned. “Yet not talkative?”
“No, Tonbo san. None of them seem to be.”
The tea house, at least, seemed to be full. Smoke came from the kitchens, and the sound of many voices could be heard. Sura led the way forward, pulled up the door curtain, and ushered her friends inside.
A dozen villagers sat at tables eating an early lunch. Noodles were being served – piping hot. Two maids bustled out from the kitchen counter carrying bowls of food and bottles of hot sakē. They flicked nervous glances towards Sura and Tonbo as they entered the room. But as Kuno came into the tea house, the villagers all studiously looked away.
