Free The Way of the Fox by Paul Kidd Page A

bandits? Thugs? Wandering stranglers? Anything like that?”
    “ None that I have heard of, Sura san. But I am a wanderer. I had only been in this area for a day.”
    “Hmmm – but all the wanderers come here …” Sura watched maids heading into the kitchens. She arose and headed off on the maid’s trail. “You guys stay here. I’m just going to make a few inquiries…”
    Off she went, her nose pointed towards prey. Chiri watched her in admiration, carefully cradling her pet rock.
    “She is most determined.”
    Kuno gave scowl. “She is very annoying.”
    “But most sincere, in her way.” Chiri set her rock quietly in place upon the table. “She is indeed an extraordinary soul.”
     
     
    T hat extraordinary soul followed her nose into the kitchen. There, amidst the steam, boiling noodle pots and sizzling skillets, Sura discovered the little innkeeper and his large and merry wife. The maid collected fresh bottles of heated sakē from a pan of water. The innkeeper’s wife saw what she was doing and raised a cry of protest.
    “Not more? No – it can’t be more!”
    “They are getting noisier!” The maid seemed distraught. “Perhaps if they drink more, they will have to sleep it off?”
    “Yes yes yes – but I will take it. Not you – not Kiko! I will do it.” The innkeeper’s wife suddenly saw Sura in the doorway, and instantly beamed. “A kitsune! Oh – it is a kitsune! We have not had the pleasure of a fox’s company in many months.” The woman waved a hand to her husband. “The duck! She will want the roasted duck! Crispy skinned. Oh – and the fried crayfish!”
    The innkeeper flicked a glance at Sura, and whispered loudly to his wife.
    “Wife – Kiko said that the fox is a priestess! Meat might be unseemly!”
    “Oh – oh! A priestess?” The wife looked again at Sura, seeing her robes. “Oh – you are not a Buddhist priestess, are you? I forget whether foxes are Buddhists?”
    Sura was happily intrigued to see so much food being prepared. Dumplings sizzled and fish fried. She felt herself absolutely salivate. “No no. Not a Buddhist. A Taoist with sort of Zuang-Zhi leanings. It’s a fox thing…” She smelled a delicious scent coming from the oven. “Oooh – did you say duck?”
    The innkeeper ’s wife bustled swiftly out through the curtains. “Yes yes – I shall bring you duck. Oooh – and terrapin! Our hotpots are famous!”
    The woman whisked off, passing yet another maid – presumably ‘Kiko’ . This girl also seemed greatly harassed. She looked into an earthenware pot, and shook her head.
    “There are no more plums.”
    “No pickled plums? None?” The innkeeper looked up from across a sizzling pan of dumplings. “How do they eat them in such quantity?”
    “I don’t know?” The waitress spied Sura. “Oh! Oh priestess! We have plum wine. I will bring you some. We make it ourselves.”
    Sura looked at the girl, noting the angry flush to her cheeks. She thieved a dumpling from a nearby tray.
    “ What seems to be the problem?”
    The innkeeper threw something into a pan, causing a sudden great deafening sizzle. He shouted to be heard above the noise.
    “Ah, priestess! The sword school students are loud and uncouth. But they are frequent visitors and big spenders – so somehow it must be borne.” The innkeeper energetically flipped frying fish with long chopsticks. “But they have brought their senior student. A bad egg, that one! A very bad egg. Even if he is from a wealthy family, he never should have been chosen!” The man put his hand over his mouth. “I say too much. But priestess – it is hard to bear! We have a reputation to uphold. And my girls – I must protect my girls from their attentions.”
    The first waitress came bustling into the kitchens ag ain. She sat herself on a bench, as close to Sura as she dared.
    “Priestess! I s it true? Is the village head-man truly dead?”
    “I’m afraid so.” Sura peeked into a pot. “All of your guests