The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

You’d think that if peasants were going to starve to death, they’d do it in the middle of winter when nothing could grow, right? I mean, didn’t that make the most sense? But no – as it turned out, the most dangerous time of year was actually early spring, when their stores of turnips and yams were running out, but nothing in their fields or vegetable patches had grown enough to pick yet.

And this spring, with their neighbors unwilling to lend them so much as a spare onion, the Jeks were slowly but surely starving. The boys’ rowdy games vanished. The parents dragged themselves from chore to chore and collapsed into dull-eyed silence in between. Taila faded from a miniature whirlwind into a withered heap of rags. If I tried to coax her into sitting up and practicing her handwriting, she’d just stare at me blankly.

And all this when they had livestock right in front of them, ready for eating! The pig – fine, they’d invested significant resources into raising it, and I could understand why they didn’t want to butcher it. But –

You have chickens! You have chickens right there! I stabbed a foreleg at the coop. Can’t you just eat one hen and buy another one to make up for it later?!

In a listless voice, Mistress Jek mumbled something about needing the eggs to sell.

Okay, if you can’t eat the hens, then eat some of the eggs! I urged. They lay them every day. You can go back to selling the eggs later, when you’re not all starving to death!

In an equally lethargic voice, Master Jek muttered something about needing to save up for rent.

You’re not going to need to pay rent if you all starve to death first!

Seeing my frustration, Mistress Jek marshalled enough strength to force a wobbly smile. “Don’t worry, emissary. We’ll get through this. We do every year.”

And so, as the pig continued to loll about in its pigsty, the hens continued to lay eggs that Mistress Jek trudged to town to sell every morning, and the landscape grew lush around them, the Jeks continued to starve. It was the absolute most infuriating thing I’d seen.

In a moment of madness, I started marching towards the castle so I could threaten that greedy baron with Flicker, but sanity prevailed before I got too far down Persimmon Tree Lane.

Instead, I turned around and stomped off to Caltrop Pond. I’d already given that lazy dragon a full moon to “think about” how to ameliorate Taila’s living conditions. It was time for him to deliver.

Den was drowsing in that pleasant, peaceful state just before waking, lingering at the tail end of his favorite dream. The one in which he was the guest of honor at a special banquet in Heaven, seated to the right of the Dragon Commander himself, as a reward for extraordinary services rendered. Sweeping his gaze across the hall, he basked in the awed, admiring, envious stares of the other dragon kings, all of whom were older and wiser and more powerful than he, yet none of whom had had the ingenuity and grit to – well, the dream never specified what he had done, only that it had been extraordinary.

Now a star sprite attendant was floating up to him, bearing the casket that contained his reward. But instead of presenting it to him as she was supposed to do, she shot out a hand, pinched his ear between her fingers, and started shaking him.

Den shot up with a yelp.

He found himself on his bed in his bedchamber, surrounded by his rice paddy snake friends, who were all snoring away on neighboring caltrop rosettes. The Dragon Commander, the banquet hall, the special award – they had all been a dream.

But the sharp pain in his left ear – that was real.

“Ow!”

Turning around did nothing to fix it, although the motion did set his head pounding. He twitched his ear as far forward as he could and rotated his eyeballs to the side, trying to figure out what was wrong with it.

What was wrong with his left ear was that a small oracle-shell turtle had her jaws clamped on it and was paddling with her legs to yank on it.

“Rosie! Ow! Let go! What in the name of all the Stars are you doing?!”

He tugged at her with his hand, careful not to crush her shell.

At last, she released his ear, swallowed a mouthful of his blood, and snarled, I’m waking you up. What does it look like I’m doing?

“Yes, but – ” Den’s head was too muzzy for him to lecture her on protocol. “If you wanted another audience, all you had to do was ask me tonight!”

Rosie snorted. Wait until tonight? Why? I’ve given you a full moon to devise methods that will improve Jek Taila’s living conditions, and what have you accomplished in that time?

“Uhhh….” One palm pressed to his throbbing temple and the other to his throbbing ear, Den mentally cursed his friends for continuing their sweet slumbers instead of protecting him from this crazy turtle. What good were courtiers who slept through an attack on their own liege lord?! “We’ve been discussing the situation every day.”

And? What conclusions have you drawn from these daily discussions?

“Uhhh….” That Ory wanted Taila to become a chef, that Sati wanted her to become a musician, and that Paddy thought they needed to think bigger but wasn’t sure what “bigger” meant in the context of peasant farmers? “We’ve been working on narrowing down the options for subjects in which to hire tutors.”

Complicated phrasing failed to impress Rosie. And?

“Well, what do you think of sending her to the Green Frog for training? Or apprenticing her to the chef at the castle? Will either of those options please the goddess?”

Rosie lunged. He thought she was going to bite him again, but she swerved at the last minute and kicked his arm instead. While you’ve been wasting time fantasizing about entertainment and delicacies, Taila is starving to death. If you want to please the goddess, then start by getting her some food.

Den’s heartrate spiked. “Starving to death? She’s starving to death? Oh, oh, but, oh. Right. Right. It is early spring. Hmmm. Hmmm. What do humans eat? What kind of food can I give her?”

Unlike spirits, humans couldn’t draw on the essence of the nourishment itself, Den knew. They required physical sustenance – specific types of it, too. What did he have available? Goldfish-sized fish that could fit in Caltrop Pond, and delicate fairy shrimp that were practically all shell.

Those were a start, he supposed, although he’d just submitted the census form to Heaven. It was going to be really awkward if population numbers plummeted on the next census.

“Okay. Okay. How about this? I’ll go talk to the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek. He has plenty of fish and other edible animals. I’m sure he can spare some.”

To his relief, Rosie didn’t kick or bite him again. That is acceptable. But you’d better do it fast! Or the girl’s going to starve to death and the goddess is going to punish all of us!

“Okay, okay, I’ll go today! I’ll go today!”

It wasn’t until after the crazy turtle had swum out of his bedchamber that Den realized, Wait, why would the goddess punish me? The only person who’ll get into trouble if Taila dies is Rosie, for failing her mission. The goddess doesn’t even know I promised to help, right?

But he decided to go talk to King Yulus anyway. After all, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

Den always told himself that he didn’t mind being the lowliest dragon king on Earth. After all, he was the youngest, and hence the smallest and weakest. It made sense for him to be assigned a tiny, insignificant fief until he proved his worth. Plus governing a pond that no one cared about meant that as long as he submitted his paperwork on time, he could do as he pleased. In other words, he could throw parties for his friends every night and sleep half the day, and it wouldn’t hurt his career prospects because he had no rivals to tattle on him. It was a good, carefree life. He enjoyed it.

It was just that, occasionally, when he saw the palaces of Heaven or the courts of his more powerful colleagues, he felt a stirring of – well, not jealousy, precisely. More like dissatisfaction. Ambition, perhaps? Sometimes, he wanted to do more with his life.

This was one of those occasions. Black Sand Creek was orders of magnitude larger than Caltrop Pond and bustled with spirits and unawakened creatures. King Yulus’ resplendent Water Court inspired awe from the moment you glimpsed its elegant front gate and the calligraphy sign that proclaimed “Black Sand Creek Water Court” for all to see.

Escorted by the Black Sand Creek Water Court’s dignified crab seneschal and a pair of proud shrimp guards, Den, Ory, Sati, and Paddy swam down the near-infinite corridor to the audience chamber.

It made Den sigh with envy. No, this level of gravitas wasn’t something he could pull off at Caltrop Pond. His entrance tunnel was simply too short. A formal procession wouldn’t be so much stately as laughable.

Not to mention, his head crab served as the cook on his cook’s days off.

“His Majesty Densissimus Imber, the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond,” intoned the seneschal, his voice rolling through the audience chamber and silencing the courtiers.

As much as Den loved his friends, he had to confess none of them possessed the grandeur of Prime Minister Nagi, the water snake spirit, or the authority of Captains Carpa and Carpio, the carp spirits who commanded the Water Court’s guard force.

As for King Yulus himself, he was everything a dragon strove to be. His back and sides were covered with handsome black scales, his mane shone like silk, and he kept the pearl under his chin polished to gleaming. Den had never seen a single food or booze stain on it. But most important of all, King Yulus had four claws on each hand and foot. That number alone put him ranks and ranks above Den.

Den bowed, proud of himself for getting the degree precisely right. Three steps behind him, Ory, Sati, and Paddy coiled on the floor and bowed too.

King Yulus inclined his head, graciously accepting their obeisance. “Be welcome to my court, Densissimus Imber. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

To his right, the imperious Prime Minister stared hard at Den and his friends. The two Captains stayed stiff and stone-faced, ready to take them down at the first hint of trouble.

Straightening, Den felt a thrill run through him as he announced, “I would like to request Your Majesty’s aid in fulfilling a mission from Heaven.”

The courtiers of Black Sand Creek perked up in the most satisfying manner, although some of them exchanged glances that asked, Why would Heaven assign a mission to him? Why not to us? Why is this the first we’re hearing of it?

With a single wave of his hand, King Yulus quelled them.

Den went on, “A compassionate goddess has taken interest in a human child and wishes to improve her life. Alas, the child lives in poverty and is starving to death.” He hated this next part, but it had to be said: “As Your Majesty is doubtless aware, Caltrop Pond does not possess much in the way of resources and, as such, cannot provide sufficient sustenance. It is my hope that in your endless benevolence, you might see fit to honor both myself and my court by assisting us in this matter.”

Den already knew King Yulus would agree. The Dragon King of Black Sand Creek had a generous heart, and his largesse surely extended not only to his own vassals but also to a starving child on the banks of his river.

However, before he could reply, his Prime Minister, who was made of sterner stuff, interrupted. “Your Majesty, we are honored by your request, but before we discuss it further, allow me to clarify one point. Was this mission assigned through the official auspices of a Heavenly bureau, or by a goddess acting on her own?”

It was an important question. Den mentally smacked himself for not asking Rosie. This was yet another reason King Yulus and his court ranked so high above him: political acumen.

“I am not certain,” he admitted.

With an unsurprised nod, Prime Minister Nagi addressed King Yulus. “Your Majesty, I suggest that before we proceed any further, we ascertain the provenance of this mission.” Unspoken was her warning not to risk getting caught in a battle of wills between gods, or even between a goddess and the Heavenly administration itself.

King Yulus opened his mouth. He was about to reject the request, Den could tell.

In desperation, he dropped the regal act. “Wait!” he blurted out. “Wait, just hear me out! It’s the Jek girl! Taila. She’s only four. She’s very bright. She can already read and write in Classical Serican, and do addition and subtraction, and she’s memorized her times tables up to twelve. She has so much potential! How can we let her starve to death just because her parents offended their neighbors so much that no one will help them out? Whatever the adults did, it’s not the child’s fault! The child is not to blame!”

Prime Minister Nagi hissed in disapproval, but King Yulus was leaning forward, his expression moved.

Remembering another piece of gossip he’d heard about the Jeks, Den rushed on before the Prime Minister could speak. “And that family has suffered enough tragedy! Just before Taila was born, her older sister was eaten by Lord Silurus right in this very river! Right on your doorstep!”

King Yulus and Prime Minister Nagi winced in unison. Den had heard that they’d witnessed the murder.

“How can we let her parents lose another child? How can we sit back and watch Taila starve to death when we have the food she needs? It would be unconscionable! Unworthy of dragon kings!”

“It would also be unwise to interfere with the vassal of another lord,” pointed out the Prime Minister, recovering herself. “The Jeks live in the Claymouth Barony, do they not? Hence she falls under the authority of Baron Claymouth, and if he has chosen not to save her, it is not for us to contravene his wishes.”

“That may be true, but like I said, it’s not the child’s fault that her parents fell afoul of the Baron! Let him punish her parents! If anyone asks, we can specify that the food is meant for the child and the child alone!”

King Yulus was nodding along. His Prime Minister eyeballed him.

For a final, clinching argument, Den reminded them, “And it won’t be for long anyway. It’s just a stopgap measure, to get her through the first part of spring. If we’re discreet, no one will ever find out.”

The Prime Minister wavered, opened and shut her mouth a few times, and, in the end, looked to her king.

The Dragon King of Black Sand Creek stared off into the distance for a moment. An expression that Den couldn’t name flashed over his face.

Then his four-clawed hands clenched around the armrests of his throne, and he lifted his chin and proclaimed, “We will provide food to Jek Taila and her family to sustain them until they can produce their own food. Fiat. Let it be done.”

Under his chin, his pearl blazed pure white.