The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

The next morning, the dragon woke early and rushed off to the conference, fired up with zeal and shadowed by a dour Nagi. The glare she shot at my cage on her way out screamed that she didn't want anyone else advising the dragon, not even the pet fish she'd personally presented to him. If I were still in Cassius' court, I'd start worrying about assassins – but here, I didn't care. Dying just gave me a fresh start and a different set of chances to earn karma.

All day, I swam in circles around my cage, waiting for the dragon to return. He did so after dinner, looking droopy and exhausted as always. When I waved my fins, he trudged over and shook his head. "He said he'll look into it."

Not a particularly promising start, but then again, I hadn't expected immediate results. I had counseled persistence, after all. That's okay! I chirped. He doesn't have to give us more rain right away. As long as he does eventually, it's fine!

Ignored off on the side, Nagi was shuffling through papers while eavesdropping. "When the stakes are this high, 'eventually' isn't 'fine,' little one," she reproved me. "Your Majesty, we just had a drought the year before last. The farmers have only just begun to recover. We cannot afford another drought this year. You must be proactive in convincing the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea to grant us rain."

Before the dragon could answer, I argued, He is being proactive. He's going to keep pesteri– I mean, reminding and reminding the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea.

"That's not enough!" Nagi lashed out. "You're just a fish! What do you know about politics and kings?"

More than this self-important adviser to an insignificant water spirit in an inconsequential creek. I could play this game better than she ever would. Keeping my voice sweet and respectful, I inquired, What do you think we should do, Prime Minister?

"All along, I've said that we must present His Majesty with gifts to raise his esteem for us! To prove that Black Sand Creek is full of loyal and valuable vassals!"

Yes, well, bribery worked much better when you offered a bribe worth taking. What sort of gifts would prove our loyalty and value?

She stared straight at me, challenging me to make the ultimate sacrifice.

Me? I gasped, feigning shock. For good measure, I clapped a fin to my mouth. Am I really that special?

Her air of superiority returned. "You're a talking fish, little one. You're unawakened, but you have a mind. I've never seen or heard of anything like you." (Of course not – she lived in Black Sand Creek. Although, to be honest, neither had I. After all, the Goddess of Life didn't grant special dispensation every day.) "You are the greatest treasure we have to offer."

Oh.... Oh.... I pretended to process this, calculating furiously all the while. I certainly brought more joy into my dragon's life than I would into the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea's – but how much more? What weighting factors did Accounting apply? If only I could sneak into their offices and read their ledgers! Well, I guess...if it's for the sake of Black Sand Creek...I would be happy to –

Up until this point, the dragon had watched in silence, but now he burst out, "No! Absolutely not!" Cradling my cage protectively, he glared at Nagi. "You heard the same thing I did – he's gotten obsessed with natural philosophy. He'll order his scholars to vivisect her to study how her mind works!"

Eeek!

I'd already gotten vivisected once, in soul form, by the Goddess of Life. How much worse would it be when I could feel both physical and spiritual pain?

Although...was it really that much worse than getting caught and cooked over and over and over? If the karma from furthering the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea's scientific endeavors could boost me up to the next Tier, the pain would be worth it.

I pretended to calm myself and reconsider. Well...if it helps all those poor farmers....

"No," repeated my dragon, glowering at Nagi. "I'm going with Mooncloud's plan. That's final."

Seething, Nagi thumped her tail on the carpet but bowed. "As Your Majesty wishes."

"That is as We wish," he proclaimed. "We will bring rain to Our lands."

But he didn't.

Oh, he tried. I knew he tried. He reported to me every night. When he had the energy, he took me out to the garden and updated me while strolling down the galleries, trailed by a resentful Nagi. When he was too tired, he mumbled an account while getting into bed. From what he'd heard, all of Eastern Serica was getting less rain than usual, so the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea was scrambling to divide it among his major vassals, of whom my dragon was most definitely not one.

On the final day of the Dragon Moon, the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas submitted their formal recommendation, their Commander held a closing banquet where he ceremonially stamped it and presented it to the Master of Rain, and the next morning we slunk back down to Earth. Captains Carpa and Carpio rushed out of the water court to meet us, jostling each other and the rickety gateway, but a hiss from Nagi subdued them, and after that, it was back to business as usual. Engrained habits took over, Nagi reclaimed her role as the dragon's sole adviser, and he reverted to communicating with me in babytalk.

And so the Lotus Moon began and wore on, with no sign of so much as a drizzle. Temperatures soared, human children splashed in the river whenever they could, and frog spirits came in a steady stream to report that the soil was as dry and cracked as old pottery.

"Tell the humans that it will be a dry year, but the rain will come," the dragon instructed them over and over. "Tell them to be patient. Heaven will provide."

But it didn't.

At last, the Green Frog, whose territory bordered ours on the opposite side of the river from the Claymouth fief, came in person to beg for intercession. "We can't go on like this. The Claymouth farmers are channeling too much water out of the rrrriver to their fields. The water level has been drrrropping. Have you noticed?"

"We have," replied the dragon, too distressed to take offense at the suggestion that he'd missed what was happening to his own home.

Nagi answered tartly, "Indeed, we've noticed that your farmers have been doing the same."

The Green Frog hopped up and down a few times, indignant. "I have much less farmland than Barrrron Claymouth. Most of my vassals are artists: actors, singers, dancers, painters – "

"Yes, we've noticed," Nagi repeated, even more tartly this time.

She nodded at the dragon, who touched his pearl and projected an image of the town of Claymouth onto the walls. The dusty main road was packed with humans banging gongs, setting off firecrackers, and burning heaps of paper money. Supported by a dozen dancers, a cloth-and-bamboo dragon was zigzagging up towards the castle. More dancers escorted it, waving flags painted with images of water and clouds, and a singer walked ahead, flinging up her arms every few steps and wailing, "O Rain, come to us! Come, come, O Rain!"

The Green Frog glanced down, cheeks pink. "Well," he mumbled. "The barrrron wanted a rrrrain prrrrocession. Crrrrops will be lean this year. I need to make money somehow."

"Yes, the drought does seem to be profitable for you," Nagi shot back.

The dragon tapped his pearl with a claw, and the vision shifted to show a series of small farming communities, where the Green Frog's actors were leading similar parades. In several open fields, his artists were hard at work painting images of the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek onto the baked earth, in a symbolic attempt to parch him into bringing rain.

Pointing her tail at the wall, Nagi accused, "You seem to be doing well enough for yourself. I daresay better than usual."

"That's untrrrrue!" harrumphed the Green Frog. "My vassals rrrrequire patrrrrons! Audiences! There will be no audiences if people starve to death this winter!"

Canceling the vision, the dragon spoke at last. "This year's rainfall has been set by the Dragon Commander. What do you expect me to do?"

"Appeal the decision! Beg for more rrrrain! Borrrrow it! Whatever you have to do to get it! I don't know, I'm not a drrrragon!"

"It's not that easy! It's not that easy, and you know it!" The dragon's voice took on a scathing edge I'd never heard from him before. "'Appeal the decision' – 'beg for more rain' – what do you think I did up in Heaven for the whole conference? 'Borrow rain' – all of Eastern Serica is screaming for rain! Just be glad your lands fall under my jurisdiction and not the Dragon Kings of Sweet Lily Pond's or Caltrop Pond's!"

This speech impressed the Green Frog not one whit. He scoffed. "Their jurrrrisdictions also don't cover any farmland. As long as their ponds don't drrrry up, they'll be fine."

The dragon straightened his back, raised his chin, and pronounced, "The decision was made by Heaven. I will carry it out, and that is final. If you have a problem with that, you can complain to the Commander in person."

There wasn't much the Green Frog could say to that, and he hopped out of the audience chamber in a foul mood. The dragon's temper wasn't much better.

Nagi tried to console him, "Well, at least the Baron hasn't splurged to hire a mage yet."

"Doesn't matter if he does," grumbled the dragon. "I still can't bring rain without permission. It's a capital offense."

What can a mage do to you? I asked, more curious than concerned.

"Did you see how the Green Frog's painters are drawing images of me out in the fields, to burn me with sunlight? Of course that can't hurt me – he's just exploiting superstition – but a mage could stamp them to create a spiritual link to me."

This must be a recent innovation. I didn't remember it from my Piri days – and believe me, I would have. How strong of a link?

He shrugged. "Depends on how competent the mage is and how powerful the spell is, which in turn depends on how much the baron is willing to spend."

Hmmmm. Recalling the freshly-gilded dragon boat, I turned towards Nagi. From the slow lick of her tongue, she was remembering the same thing.

The mage didn't come this moon but the next, fittingly at the start of the Moon of Hungry Ghosts. We found out when a frog spirit came bounding into the audience chamber, shouting, "Trrrrouble! Trrrrouble! Big trrrrouble!"

She bowled over Nacre, who was back to complain about the duck demons, and nearly banged into Captain Carpio, who was assuring the dragon and Nagi that he'd driven the ducks far, far away and they couldn't possibly be back already, while Nacre shrilled, "I sensed them with my own spiritual senses! Are you saying that I don't know what a duck feels like?"

Scuttling after the frog came a pair of shrimp guards, who waved their antennae and shouted, "Halt! Halt!" Behind them was the crab seneschal, who clacked urgently at all of them, "Stop! Stop! I have to announce you!"

"What is the meaning of this?" roared the dragon.

At Nagi's urging, he'd been practicing his act of regality in fits and starts, which meant that we never knew whether he was going to moan over his own helplessness – or bellow it out.

The frog dropped to the floor in front of him, sides heaving as she fought for breath. "Your Majesty! I'm sorrrry! But a mage came! A mage! A mage is here!"

The dragon shot upright. "What? Here? In the river?"

"No, no, up at the castle!"

"How do you know?" Nagi demanded. "Did you hear it? Did you see it with your own eyes?"

The frog's dewlap swelled with indignation. "I saw her with my own two eyes! I was swimming in the pond by the castle and I saw her come rrrriding up the rrrroad."

How had she recognized a mage from outward appearance alone? Last time I checked, mages looked like regular humans – at least, until they pulled out their seals and started stamping spells.

"She had a seal hanging from her belt!"

Oh, was that how mages dressed these days? Seemed like they were just begging to be robbed. True, no one else could use their personal name seal, but it could be melted down for the bronze. The loss would represent a major hassle for the mages: Sure, they could commission a replacement, but that would take days, maybe even weeks, depending on how busy the seal-maker was and whether he or she had the appropriate quality bronze. Mages tended to be finicky about their seals.

The dragon was already casting a vision of the Claymouth fief onto the walls. It skimmed over the cracked, painted fields and zoomed in on the castle courtyard, where a woman in coarse, travel-stained clothes was swinging off her horse. She looked more like a traveling merchant than anything else, with messy black hair and weather-beaten skin. Her age could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty. Her bronze seal, a plain square with a loop on top for threading a silk cord through, glinted in the sun as she bowed to the baron.

"Welcome, honored mage!" he cried, pitching his voice to carry throughout the courtyard. "I am pleased that you were able to come so quickly."

Straightening, she gave his tunic an appraising glance, as if gauging how much he could pay. "Thank you, my lord," she rasped. "I came as fast as I could."

The castle seneschal stepped forward from the rest of the baron's retinue. "Please allow me to show you to your room, honored mage."

She waved him off. "You can do that later. Take me to the river at once."