The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 201: How to Change Fate



No. Not good enough.

What was the point if Lady Fate protected me and only me from the Goddess of Life's vengeance? I was clever and cruel and manipulative, and I had proven that I could take care of myself even when all of Heaven was arrayed against me. I would be fine. It was my friends who needed Lady Fate's protection. I crawled out of the flowerbed and hauled myself back onto the windowsill.

Great goddess, I could not accomplish this without the assistance of my friends and allies. None of whom have transgressed quite as badly as I. If you, in your infinite wisdom and compassion, could take pity on me and shield me, then—perhaps—you could extend that protection to them as well?

My rat-heart was racing. It was a reasonable argument, wasn't it? I'd phrased it with enough diplomacy, hadn't I? It would work, wouldn't it? It had to work. I couldn't be the only one to gain protection, to go on after the end while my friends were tortured and executed and sentenced to eternal torment. I'd already lost Stripey once, temporarily. I wasn't losing all of them forever.

The goddess kept me waiting while she consulted Fate, or created Fate, or whatever it was that she did. I was positive she was drawing it out, keeping me in a state of twitchy paws and trembling whiskers just for fun. At last, she beckoned to the moon blocks at her feet. They flew back into her hand, and she cast them down once more.

Both landed with their round sides down and rocked back and forth, as if Fate itself were laughing at me.

She reclaimed them and made them vanish into her sleeve. "Fate has spoken. It is not to be."

Could you drop the blocks in such a way that you would get the outcome you wanted? She'd shown that she could move them without touching them. But if she were faking the results, another god must have noticed and challenged her before now.

No, don't get distracted, Piri! Stop scheming how to destroy Lady Fate and focus on how to save your friends!

The golden light blazed up again: Lady Fate preparing to leave. I had to stop her, to keep her here longer! Great Goddess, I began without knowing where I was going with that sentence, only that I had to wrangle her agreement, isn't there anything I can do to change this Fate?

It worked, in the sense that she stayed. The light seared my eyes, but I forced my eyelids to stay up.

"To change what is FATED is no simple matter."

Yes, yes, I know. Enough posturing, just tell me what you want already!

"To change FATE, it would take a significant act, a consequential act, an act that contradicts everything that can reasonably be expected. And to change the Fates of so many others...." She didn't shrug, but she might as well have. The intensity of the light cranked up another notch.

My eyelids shut on their own. I forced them open, and they slammed shut again. Think, Piri! What's something you can do that no one, especially not this goddess, would ever expect you to do? What contradicts everything she believes about you? Everything anyone expects from you?

Eyes watering from the pain, and so blurry that I could hardly make out her figure at the center of the light, I called, What if I gave up your protection?

The light dimmed. I had succeeded in shocking her, at least.

Great Goddess, what if I asked that you grant your protection to my friends and allies instead of to me? Is that significant enough?

The light went out. In the sudden dark, I blinked and blinked. Tears wet my fur.

A clatter of wood.

Through a haze of afterimages and tears, I saw the moon blocks. One had landed round side up. The other—the other had landed round side down. A long sigh whooshed out of me, a heartbeat before Lady Fate's voice rang through the hallway.

"Yes. It is FATED. Your friends shall receive my divine protection after they complete the great task of reunifying the Serican Empire under Eldon, rightful Son of Heaven. You, Flos Piri, shall not."

Before I could answer, before I could even bow once more to show my thanks, the golden light blazed so brightly that its pressure flattened me to the windowsill. Then it vanished along with Lady Fate.

I lay on the weather-beaten wood until my muscles stopped spasming. Slowly, carefully, I got back onto my feet. The cool night breeze ruffled my sweat-stained fur and made me shiver. In the distance, the Jade Mountains looked down on me, unchanged through all these centuries.

What have I done? I asked out loud. What did I just do?

I was still asking myself that question the next day, when Lodia took me on a tour of the new Temple in Blackberry Glen.

"—Right in the middle of the town," she was explaining, "overlooking the central square where the open-air market is held. It used to be the home of one of their leading citizens, but sadly, he and his wife and children didn't...didn't make it through the Black Death. Since there wasn't anyone to inherit the house, the citizens let us have it. To thank us for helping during...." She made a sad, helpless gesture with her hand.

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With an effort, I pulled myself back to the present. There was no point worrying about what might happen to me after if we didn't get through now. Because there might not be an "after" for any of us if we didn't get through the "now."

"That's it, up ahead!" Lodia chirped, or tried to chirp.

Stars and demons, was the girl trying to cheer me up? I really had to pull myself together.

That looks—ah—great!

The pause and the "ah" were because it was the weirdest temple I'd ever seen. Overlooking the square was a row of townhouses, all beige walls and ebony beams—except for the one in the center.

"We wanted to use the same style as the Temple in Goldhill," Lodia told me, which certainly explained a lot. "We hired local artisans to do the carving and painting, because that's what you did."

I...see.

I knew I should shut my jaw, but I couldn't quite muster the spare attention to coordinate those muscles.

"We tried to copy it as closely as we could! It's just—it's just—we couldn't find the same materials, and the carpenters had never made anything like it, and the painters didn't have the right colored paint, and the neighbors didn't want us nailing anything to their parts of the building, so we—so we—"

I tore my eyes off the Temple to look at Lodia. From my vantage point inside her collar, it was painfully obvious that she was wringing her hands.

Before I could calm her, a voice interrupted. "Good morning to you, Matriarch!" A human man in a plain, creased tunic bowed low. He had the same accent as Floridiana's.

"Good morning, Master Abner," replied Lodia, and even though her fingers were twisted together, her voice was steady.

The man went on his way, and Lodia whispered, "That's Master Abner. He's the one who carved the pillars and decorations around the door."

Ah. Excellent work, I said weakly.

"Mornin', Matriarch!" called a boy as he jogged past, pulling a cart of roofing shingles. A pair of fuzzy rabbit ears bounced behind his head.

"Good morning, Jesper," Lodia called after him. To me: "That's Jesper. He's the one who delivered the lumber."

The greetings continued as we crossed the square. Lodia was clearly known, liked, and, more than that, respected here in Blackberry Glen. No longer was she the Kohs' reclusive child, or Anthea's talented seamstress, or even the every-daughter she'd been to the people of Flying Fsh Village. Here, she was the face of the Temple that had provided aid in the time of plague and employment in the time of recovery. It was pretty good progress, if I did say so myself. I knew getting her out of Lychee Grove was the right idea! A shame the Accountants wouldn't award me positive karma for her recent personal development, but at least Floridiana and the others should get credit.

That thought cheered me as I blinked up at the Temple facade. And I did literally mean up, because the townhouse was three stories tall. On each level, a small, upturned, yellow-tiled, and purely decorative roof jutted out from the wall. The bottommost mini-roof was supported by a pair of dull red pillars with clunky flowers and leaves carved around the tops.

No, I told myself, not clunky. Call it "rustic." Charmingly rustic, in keeping with this picturesque little town on the edge of the Empire-to-be.

Thinner versions of these pillars had been stuck to the walls on the second and third floors under the mini-roofs. At least they looked secure, which meant they wouldn't fall off and crush any passersby. And hey, if you stood at the far end of the main street, and if you were sufficiently nearsighted, it probably almost resembled a pagoda!

"What do you think?" Lodia's voice shook, as if she'd repeated the question multiple times and now expected the worst. "It's not so bad, is it? We really did try our best!"

It's lovely, I assured her automatically. Then I considered the adjective and found that it wasn't a complete lie. It's the most creative, most unique temple I've seen. Everyone who sees it will remember it.

Her shoulders relaxed so suddenly that I nearly slid off. I squeaked, and she laughed and said, "Shall we go inside?" like a chatelaine of a castle.

Yes, let's. I took a final, assessing look at the facade. It's a shame there aren't any paper lanterns, but I guess it's too expensive to transport them from North Serica?

Lodia's shoulders hunched again. "Um, we did talk about it...but Flor— I mean, we decided that it would send the wrong message. If the Temple is decorated like it's for rich people, I mean. Then people might feel less comfortable coming in.... But we can get lanterns! If you think we should have them?"

Where had her quiet confidence in the town square gone? Why had she reverted to the trembling, diffident girl I'd met in Lychee Grove?

Oh no, no, I think you made the right choice. It was just a random thought.

We passed through a rustically carved and painted doorframe and practically crashed into an offering table. It bore three plates of strawberries, a bottle of what I assumed was fresh milk, and a crude—no, call it rustic!—jug with a spray of wildflowers. Behind the offering table was an altar draped with what looked like a shawl. Weighing it down were three wooden statues dressed in dyed wool robes.

"There's the Kitchen God." Lodia gestured at the fattest statue on the left. "That's the Goddess of Life." She nodded at the statue in the center, which bore no resemblance to the cold, beautiful goddess who had ripped me apart. "And that's the Star of Reflected Brightness." The final statue on the right actually bore a hint of resemblance to Aurelia.

How did you know what she looks li— never mind.

Of course they knew what she looked like. She'd come down in person to save Floridiana's and Cornelius' lives with treasure stolen from Heaven. On their own, my neck bent and my head dipped to Aurelia's image.

Ugh, what a ridiculous thing to do! I hastily straightened, glad that rats couldn't blush. If Aurelia had seen that spontaneous bow, I would die of embarrassment.

Including the Kitchen God as one of the deities to welcome people in is a nice diplomatic touch, I said. It also means that he continues to have a prominent presence in the Temple.

Lodia bobbled her head. "Yes, yes! That's what we were hoping. We kept the Temples in Goldhill, Lychee Grove, and Flying Fish Village as his personal temples too. Lady Anthea wrote that he deems that acceptable."

Whew. You had to love a god who didn't fuss over precedence, so long as he got his offerings. Speaking of gods—

Where are the images of the other gods?

This was, after all, the Temple to All Heaven. As far as I could tell, the first floor had no secondary altars.

"They're upstairs."

Gathering her skirts, Lodia stepped onto a narrow staircase right as two humans in priest robes came clattering down. As soon as they spotted her, they pressed their backs to the wall and bowed their heads deeply.

"Matriarch."

Lodia smiled down on the backs of their heads. "Good morning," she replied, and continued up the steps.

Peeking out around her hair bun—when had she stopped putting her hair in two braids?—I watched the priests. They didn't straighten until long after we had passed.

At the top of the stairs, we passed through a doorframe painted with little white flowers and clusters of blackberries.

"This is where we keep the images of the other gods," she explained.

We entered a room that resembled a warehouse of dolls.


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