At the Mouth of the River of Bees: Stories Read Online Free Page B

would wait in her dark halls forever, with no one to break the dim monotony of her life. I wondered if I should just shed this maiden’s body and ease back into the ferns that fringed the path.
    But I am a fox, whatever else I have become: I steeled myself easily, and said aloud, “I would rather she were alone than me.”
    Perhaps he heard me, or saw the ladies-in-waiting, who were dressed in bright colors that glowed even in the gathering dark. At any rate, he walked toward us. My women squeaked and averted their faces, hiding behind their fans. They were magical so of course they did just as they ought; I, who was only mortal (and a fox), stared bare-faced, with no maidenly reticence. He met my eyes. I have given that hunting stare; I know it well. I responded as the animal I am. I turned to run.
    He was beside me before I could gather my skirts, and laid his hand on my sleeve. “Wait!”
    I felt trapped like a mouse in his killing gaze. My women fluttered up, making meaningless noises of concern. “Please let me go,” I said.
    “No. A pretty thing like you?” I remembered my fan and brought it up to hide my face. He caught my wrist to prevent me; the touch of his skin against mine made me dizzy. “Who are you?”
    “Nobody,” I stammered. Of all the things we had remembered, all the unfamiliar things we had been so clever about—the tea set, the stones in the gardens—we had given ourselves no names! But he seemed to accept this.
    “I am Kaya no Yoshifuji. Why are you walking in my woods with no men to protect you?”
    I groped, thinking desperately. “It is a—a contest. We write poems to the dusk, my women and I.” The ladies chirruped in agreement.
    “Do you live near here?” he asked.
    “Oh, yes. Just on the other side of the woods.”
    He nodded. Fox magic made him accept this, even though the woods are a day’s hard travel deep and he has made this journey himself. “Still, it is very unsafe, and it is really too dark for you to walk home. Would you and your ladies honor me by coming as guests to my house, to wait there until your relatives can be sent for?”
    I thought of those rooms, and thought suddenly of Shikibu drifting aimlessly, waiting as she so often did for Yoshifuji. She would be a ghost there even in her absence. I shrank back. “No, I couldn’t possibly!”
    He looked relieved. Perhaps he felt her, as well. “Then where do you live? I’ll escort you home.”
    “That would be very nice,” I said with relief. “I live just over there.”
    Maybe he would have seen the falseness that first time when he stepped from the true path onto the fox-path, but he was looking at me, his head bent to try to see past the fan I had managed to raise. It was hard walking in my many robes, but he mistook my inexperience for blindness in the dark and he was very solicitous.
    The fox-path was long and wandering. We walked along it until we saw lights. “Home,” I said, and took his hand and led him the last few steps. He was lost in the magic then and didn’t notice that he entered my beautiful house by lying belly-down in the dirt and wriggling under the storehouse. We stood on the veranda. Servants clustered around, shielding me from his gaze and exclaiming.
    “You are the daughter of this house?” Yoshifuji asked.
    “I am,” I said.
    He looked around at the many torches and stone lanterns that lit the garden, and the quality of the bamboo blinds edged with braid and tied up with red and black ribbons. “Your family must be a fine one.”
    He followed me into my reception room, where servants had set up a curtain-of-state; they would preserve my womanly modesty here, even after I had committed the solecism of allowing a man to see me walk and to see my face unshielded. I sank to the mat behind the panels of fabric.
    My lord still stood. “Perhaps I should go, having seen you home,” he said.
    “Oh, please wait! My family will wish to thank you for your kindness. Please sit.” I