Page 44 of Shadow of the Fox

I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the villagers had disappeared.

Except for one.

The monk was back, standing like a statue at the side of the road. His black robes blended into the darkness, but his staff and wide-brimmed hat glimmered in the faint light of the moon. Beneath the hat, his face was hidden in shadow, but I could sense he was watching us, and me in particular.

I turned back, and nearly ran into Okame, as both he and the headman had stopped in the middle of the road. With a hasty“Gomen”I veered away and nearly crashed into Tatsumi, who smoothly stepped aside to avoid the collision and even caught the cucumber that tumbled free of the rest.

“As I was saying.” The headman gave me a mildly annoyed look and pointed a thick finger down the path. “You can see the guesthouse from here. Just keep following the road.”

I peered over cabbage leaves and could just make out a squat, isolated house sitting at the edge of the fields. It looked like every other village house we’d seen, with wooden walls and a pointed thatched roof. Soft orange light spilled through the window bars and the open doorway, and I could see the flicker of a fire pit through the frame. The road curved past the hut and continued down a slope until it disappeared from view.

“Everything has been prepared for you,” the headman continued, speaking to Okame and ignoring me. “The fire has been lit, and fresh bedding has been laid out. There is a stream behind the house if you need water, and a cooking pot over the fire pit, should you get hungry in the middle of the night.”

I didn’t see how that was possible; I didn’t even want to think about food until tomorrow morning. But Okame thanked the headman, who gave a somewhat brittle smile and bowed low.

“You honor us with your presence,” he said, still staring at the ground. “I hope you have enjoyed your stay in Yamatori.Oyasuminasai.”

“Good night,” I repeated, and the headman hurried away, striding back toward the village at a near jog. As his silhouette got smaller and smaller, I noticed that the monk who had been standing beside the path was no longer there.

18

Curses and Gaki

Something was wrong with this village.

I felt it, Hakaimono felt it and I was fairly certain Yumeko felt it as well, though the ronin seemed oblivious. It wasn’t just the air of excitement and fear that hovered around the village like a dense mist. Or the way the villagers were almost frantic to give away their food, despite the fact that it wasn’t uncommon for farmers to starve during the winter months and rice was more precious than gold to them. Suspicious behavior, though it wasn’t unreasonable for the village to overcompensate for our needs, especially if they had been treated poorly by wandering samurai in the past. Our food hadn’t been poisoned at least; part of my training involved intimate knowledge of the various toxins and what they tasted like, and the meal had been clean.

But there were other, smaller indicators that made my instincts bristle. The fences around the rice paddies, the bamboo tops sharpened to lethal points. The houses with the heavily fortified doors. The fact that there were no animals of any kind in the village; no dogs, cats or chickens. Yamatori had a secret. I just didn’t know if it was one we should be concerned about.

The guesthouse was empty, and the embers glowing in the fire pit threw long shadows over the bare wooden walls. Yumeko stepped through the doorway, then knelt and dropped the bundle of food in a corner with a sigh. The ronin followed her example, only he kept the jug of sake, taking a pull before tucking it into his jacket.

“I don’t know about you two, but I like this place,” he announced, flopping down before the fire pit. “I haven’t eaten this well in weeks, and there’s plenty more where that came from.” He patted his stomach with a lazy smile. “We’ll be gorging like princes all the way to the capital.”

“Baka,” I said quietly.Idiot. “This village is hiding something. They weren’t feeding us to be kind. We were put here for a purpose.”

Yumeko looked relieved. “You felt it, too,” she said, and I nodded. “It’s the strangest thing,” she went on, gazing back toward the village. “I got the impression that they wanted us gone, but at the same time, they were desperate for us to stay. Everyone was trying so hard to make us feel welcome even though they were terrified.” She paused, then glanced back at me, her eyes troubled. “You don’t think they brought us out here to rob or kill us in our sleep, do you? That would be terribly dishonest.”

On the floor, the ronin snorted, lying on his side and resting his head on a hand. “Farmers are a cowardly lot,” he said, as if speaking from personal experience. “The only time they’d attempt to cut our throatswouldbe while we slept, but from what I saw, they’re too scared even for that.” He yawned, scratching his neck, and glanced out the door. “But we should probably post a watch tonight, just in case.”

I went to the door, intending to slide it shut, only to discover there was no door on the tracks. Frowning, I glared out toward the village, noticing that the road snaked around the hut and continued down the slope at the back. Not liking the idea that more of the village could be behind us, I stepped outside and followed the path around the hut, until I came to the edge of the rise and could see what lay at the bottom.

A field of gravestones, surrounded by a simple bamboo fence, sprawled in haphazard rows in the grass at the bottom of the hill. Crudely hewn headstones jutted out of the dirt, interspersed with stone lanterns and bibbed statues of Jinkei, the Kami of Mercy and the Lost. Many of the structures, from the markers to the lanterns to the statues themselves, were covered in moss, their faces worn by erosion and time. But there were several headstones, particularly the ones closest to the hut, that looked much newer.

Yumeko appeared beside me, also gazing down into the cemetery. Strange that I could feel her presence, another body close to mine, and not want to step away and put distance between us. “Well,” the girl stated after a moment. “That’s...interesting. Is it common to put your honored guests a stone’s throw from your graveyard?”

“Not usually,” I muttered.

Yumeko continued to observe the field of stones. “Do you think there could be yurei?” she asked. She didn’t sound terribly concerned about this, as if the idea of meeting a ghost was more curious than frightening. I was less intrigued. Most yurei were harmless, content to haunt the place they had died, mournful and tragic, but not dangerous. There were others, however—onryo and goryo being the most feared—who had died with hatred or jealousy in their hearts, and would return to wreak vengeance upon those who had wronged them. Sometimes their grudges would last for years, centuries, as the curse affected not only the people who betrayed them, but their descendants, as well.

“It depends,” I told Yumeko, not wanting to explain all this.

“On what?”

“If they were buried appropriately. If they received the proper funeral rites so they could pass on. If they died with no strong emotions or unfinished business that would cause them to linger in the mortal realm.” I gazed over the cemetery, “So...yes, it’s entirely possible we will see yurei tonight.”

“At least there’s a monk in town,” Yumeko said. “He would’ve performed the proper burial rights, wouldn’t he?”

I frowned slightly and glanced at her. “What monk?”

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