The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

So that just left the matter of the cat spies.

Through Boot, we “invited” Master Gravitas to join the taskforce, since he already knew too much. I debated whether it would be better to summon Flicker to administer the same oath as the others’, or to have the carpenter swear to Master and Mistress Jek that he would protect and guide Taila as her godfather. After reviewing the objections Flicker had raised last time, I opted for the latter. The more oaths Aurelia had to conceal, the greater the chance that she would fail, whereas Serican children acquired godparents all the time. It was a way to build closer ties between family friends with no actual blood relationship.

I hadn’t heard anything about Aurelia’s reaction to finding out who Soul Number 11270 was, but since no one was recalling me to Heaven for reincarnation as a tapeworm, I figured I was safe. For now, anyway.

This is the safest way. We won’t set off alarm bells in Heaven if Taila gets a godfather, I explained when Mistress Jek and Floridiana both asked why Master Gravitas was getting bound by a lesser oath. (The former had her daughter in mind, the latter the state of her own soul.) The last thing we want to happen is someone auditing the oaths department and launching an investigation into why a goddess is so obsessed with a human child.

“Uh…,” was Mistress Jek’s response.

Oh, right, I’d never told her that Aurelia wasn’t acting in an official capacity. Unlike Nagi, the Jeks weren’t familiar with the intricacies of Heavenly bureaucracy and hadn’t thought to ask.

“Emissary, why…why would…Heaven be angry at the goddess for wanting to protect a little girl? Shouldn’t it be pleased? Doesn’t the Jade Emperor love all humans?”

That question was far too simplistic, and I told her so. You’re thinking of Heaven as a monolithic institution when it’s more fragmented than the feuding mini-kingdoms of Earth.

Mistress Jek blinked multiple times.

“What she’s trying to say,” translated Floridiana in an exasperated tone, “is that Heaven has politics and factions, the same as governments here on Earth. Enemies of the goddess might mess with whatever she does just to mess with her.”

“Oh.” At the image of feuding gods, Mistress Jek’s eyes went round and traumatized.

I saw no particular reason not to throw Heaven under the delivery wagon, so I added, Also, the Jade Emperor doesn’t love all humans. Just the ones who can afford to make lavish offerings to Him.

That drew a startled “Oh!” from all three humans and Bobo. Accustomed to dealing with the law and its myriad loopholes, the duck demon looked unsurprised that Authority was not as just as it claimed to be. For their part, the two cat spies simply absorbed the intelligence so they could forward it to their master.

“Oh, Rosie, I don’t think – ” began the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond, squirming on his chair.

“But Rosssie, that can’t be right!” Bobo burst out. “That’s – that’s – ” She groped for a word strong enough to encapsulate the injustice of wealth-based divine compassion. “That’s ssso unfair!”

Well, yes.

“Yes,” Floridiana seconded in a daze. “What she said. That can’t possibly be right. If it were right, then it would mean that – that – ”

Yes. All the implications that you sense in that statement are correct. I let them consider and elaborate on their shattered worldviews.

Floridiana, the two elder Jeks, and Bobo all turned to the dragon, their eyes beseeching him to deny it.

He squirmed some more. “Ah, um, well, of course the Jade Emperor loves all His subjects! But, ah, there are a lot of gods and goddesses, and not everyone agrees on the best way to do things….”

If he were hoping to deter them with vague generalities, he wasn’t escaping that easily.

The mage pressed, “But what she said about the Jade Emperor caring more about the people who have money to make better offerings. Is that true?”

“Um, well, I mean…. I’ve never spoken to Him directly!” (A painful admission for a dragon king, to be sure.)

“The other gods and goddesses – is that how they think? That’s not how they think, right?” followed up Mistress Jek.

“Well….” The poor dragon hemmed and hawed and hedged and never gave a straight answer, from which everyone present drew the correct conclusion.

“Well,” breathed Floridiana, sagging in her chair. “Well.”

“I don’t know what to say!” exclaimed Mistress Jek, who clearly did. “But when you think about it, this does make sense. We shouldn’t be surprised. As below, so above.”

“Mmmm,” Master Jek agreed, letting his wife do the talking for both of them.

Stunned and disillusioned, Bobo drooped into a heap of coils that dangled off the sides of her chair.

Anyway, now that that’s settled, let’s adjourn for today, I announced.

I wanted to let them stew on the revelation some more. On their own, they could invent far worse interpretations than I could feed them – all of which would even be true.

And indeed, the others didn’t immediately scatter back to their own homes or chores but huddled up in pairs and trios instead, discussing in low tones.

Precisely as I intended.

With the two cat spies now on the taskforce, I delegated dealing with their master to them. (Delegation: one of my favorite innovations.) They didn’t disappoint.

Boot and Master Gravitas concocted a story about how an ancient ghost had been haunting the Jeks’ cottage and terrorizing the family. Prolonged exposure to its archaic mannerisms had distorted the family’s behavior, leading to wild rumors about demons and possession. Aided by Master Gravitas, Boot and Floridiana had uncovered the truth, and then Floridiana killed the ghost.

Or drove it off.

No, killed it.

No, drove it off!

The wording in the report went back and forth a few times, but I let them fight out the details themselves. My only stipulation was that the report should convince anyone who read it that the Jeks posed no threat whatsoever to anyone whosoever.

The cat spies polished the final draft and sent it off, and shortly thereafter, Boot received a recall notice.

“Since everything is settled here, I need to go back,” she meowed at us. Anticipating an argument, she added, “It’s not like you need me here anyway.”

What will you do next? I asked, partly because I was curious, partly because, as she’d expected, I was wary of letting taskforce members run off to goodness-knew-where to say goodness-knew-what to goodness-knew-whom.

The cat gave a delicate shrug and seemed to plan to leave it at that.

Boot, I warned. Remember your oath.

Her tail switched with displeasure. “Obviously nothing that will break it. Hang around headquarters until I receive my next mission, most likely. Which won’t have anything to do with this.” She looked pointedly around Honeysuckle Croft.

I didn’t like the idea, but I didn’t hate it enough to force the issue. Also, everyone else agreed that keeping Boot here would make her master suspicious and cause us more problems in the long run.

Before she set off, she left us with these words of wisdom: “We have a saying where I come from. ‘A man fears gaining fame as a pig fears growing fat’.”

Then, without looking back, she trotted down Persimmon Tree Lane on determined paws.

Floridiana stood inside the fence and watched until even the tip of the cat’s tail had vanished into the dusk. Then she shook her head, muttered something about lesson plans, and went back into the cottage.

Up in Heaven:

Lady Fate sat in the dining room of Mama’s Dumplings, a banquet hall that the Bureau of the Sky had recently converted into an Earth-style “eatery.” She was hoping that the novelty would distract her from a sense of incoherent unease. Lately, her visions had been fragmentary and nonsensical and involved a menagerie of animals. And her moon blocks, which supplemented her visions with answers to yes-no questions, weren’t helping either. They kept landing in such a way that meant her questions were either ill posed – or hilarious.

She was Lady Fate, Director of the Ministry of Fate. Her questions were neither ill-posed nor hilarious. Ever.

She’d needed a break to clear her mind, hence her decision to visit this “eatery.” Although now she was regretting it.

Mama’s Dumplings was distressingly undignified, she thought, surveying the imp waiters who pushed carts of food among the circular tables. Instead of being served a preset meal of ten or twelve courses by graceful crane maidens and youths, you were supposed to listen as the imps rattled off a list of what was on the small plates or inside the mini steamer baskets. Then you told them what you wanted yourself.

She shuddered. A high-ranking goddess like herself should never have to address an imp directly. Unfortunately, the cranes and star sprites had flat-out refused to staff this place, and no amount of berating had changed their minds.

Now a wizened imp, with an oversized head and skin that wavered between grey and dull turquoise, pushed a cart piled with steamer baskets up to her table. “Shrimp-and-bamboo dumplings, shrimp-and-chive dumplings, shrimp-and-spinach dumplings, pork-and-mushroom dumplings,” he droned, bored after repeating the same phrase at every table he’d visited before hers.

“What do you think, darling?” Lady Fate asked the seal-point cat dozing on a silk cushion on the chair next to hers.

Regia opened her sky-blue eyes, flowed onto the table, and examined the steamer baskets. “I want steamed cod.”

“No cod,” the imp snapped before repeating, “Shrimp-and-bamboo dumplings, shrimp-and-chive dumplings, shrimp-and-spinach dumplings, pork-and-mushroom dumplings.”

“Why, you – !” Lady Fate was outraged, but she caught herself. This was supposed to simulate the experience you’d get in an eatery on Earth. Why the Bureau of the Sky had thought that was a good idea, she had no idea. Forcing her voice back into smoothness, she coaxed, “Darling, there’s no steamed cod right now. We can get you some later. Is there anything you do want from the cart?”

“Shrimp-and-bamboo dumplings.”

The imp banged the lids around before informing them, “I’m out. You’ll have to wait. You want anything else?”

“You’re out?”

“Yup. Anything else?”

Taken aback, Lady Fate ordered something at random, and the imp slammed a steamer basket with three dumplings onto the table. Off-center. Then, without asking to be excused, he pushed his cart off to scandalize the next group of gods.

This style of service was never going to catch on in Heaven.

“I’m sorry, darling. Want to play with the moon blocks while you wait?”

From her sleeve, she brought out two lacquered, crescent moon-shaped blocks. They were flat on one side and rounded on the other.

“Will it take a long time to get shrimp-and-bamboo dumplings?” asked Regia before she lifted a paw and batted them off the table.

One landed on its flat side, the other its round. That meant “yes.”

Regia sighed. “Oh well.”

“Ah, Lady Fate!” boomed a voice from the doorway. “Working lunch?”

It was the fat Kitchen God, the Director of Reincarnation.

Even if manners here had gone out the window, she wasn’t going to shout across the room, so she smiled and beckoned him over. “What a surprise to see you!” And it was: He spent most of the year on Earth, scrounging offerings from hearths and kitchens. “Please, have a seat.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

So much time among the humans had obviously eroded his manners. But she had a question for him, so she ignored her distaste and murmured, “How is Soul Number 3409 progressing?”

“Soul Number 3409?” he asked, taking a dumpling without being invited. “Um, let’s see, which one was that again?”

“The one that was formerly the Star of Scholarly Song and, before that, Lord Marcius, cousin to Emperor Cassius. It is currently incarnated as a foxhound in North Serica.” Lady Fate swallowed a sarcastic, “Remember?”

“Oh! That one! It’s doing well, thanks for asking.”

“And by ‘well,’ you mean…?” she prodded.

“It’ll make Yellow Tier soon enough, don’t you worry.” He beamed, as proud as a new father of the soul he’d forgotten until just now. “I’m thinking of incarnating it as a golden hair monkey once it gets there. Have you seen those? Cute little critters, aren’t they?”

Lady Fate was far less interested in how cute the soul’s next incarnation would be than in how fast it was advancing up through the Tiers. But it seemed to be on track still, in accordance with her visions, which meant that she didn’t need to worry about the soul that was once a man fated to become an emperor.

When the time came, he would attain his destiny.