The slum-dwellers swamped Floridiana. They tugged on her arms, yanked on her tunic, nearly overwhelmed her with the stench of sweat and rotting teeth.
"Take me!"
"No, take me!"
"I'll go!"
She fought to back up, to get space to breathe, but they were behind her too. When she tripped over someone's cane, only the press of bodies held her upright. "Wait, please, calm down – "
"Here's my son!"
"How much for my daughter?"
"Same bounty as usual, right?"
"Wait, please wait a moment," Floridiana pleaded, "there's been a misunderstanding – "
A mouth that was missing too many teeth, and surrounded by tufts of crazy white hair, shoved right into her face. "I'll fight fer Queen an' country!"
Floridiana was starting to feel faint. She'd forgotten how bad slums were. She'd gotten out, and then she'd done whatever she had to in order to stay out, and she'd never, ever gone back. Had this really been what her childhood was like...?
A long, angry neigh and a clomping of hooves on the muck-covered ground. Dusty's head appeared, followed by his neck and chest, as he forced his way through the mob. The horse spirit planted himself at her side and stamped and blew at the slum-dwellers, and at last they backed away.
Gasping for air, Floridiana ran a hand through her hair and smoothed her tunic, more to buy time to calm herself than because she cared about looking presentable.
"You okay?" asked Dusty.
She nodded, then pitched her voice to carry. "I'm not here to recruit for the army!"
Murmurs. The flood of people from the buildings and spaces between buildings slowed. Bright, hopeful faces hardened back into habitual suspicion of outsiders.
"Then what're ye here for?" shouted a youngish man who was leaning out a broken window.
Ah, perfect dramatic timing! He couldn't have set her up better if she had planted him there to ask that very question. Thanking him inside her head, Floridiana maintained a composed, dignified expression. "I'm here on behalf of the Temple to the Kitchen God!" (She didn't mention Lady Anthea. These people had probably never heard of the raccoon dog spirit and wouldn't care if they had, her existence being far less important than their empty bellies.) "In his infinite love and compassion for those who dwell on Earth, the Kitchen God has commanded the Good Queen Jullia to set up a temple to him – "
"Who cares?" shouted the same man. "What's the Kitchen God done fer us? When's any of the gods cared about us!"
That was a bold statement – but a true one. If you believed Piri's explanation, which Floridiana did, the gods rewarded those who enriched them with offerings. South Serica's poorest residents certainly couldn't compete with the likes of Lady Anthea and the Earl of Black Crag.
Although it was far too dangerous to explain how the Heavenly karma system worked, maybe she could give these people a hint. She fixed the man with her sternest, headmistress stare. "What have you ever done for the gods? Even the Kitchen God, who safeguards the home? Did you think that you deserve Heavenly love and compassion just because you were born onto this Earth?" She paused for the perfect dramatic interval, just long enough to sow confusion in her audience. Then she shouted, "No! That is wrong! You must work for Heavenly love and compassion! You must earn them!"
YOU ARE READING
The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox
FantasyAfter Piri the nine-tailed fox follows an order from Heaven to destroy a dynasty, she finds herself on trial in Heaven for that very act. Executed by the gods for the "crime," she is cast into the cycle of reincarnation, starting at the very bottom...
