The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 144: Ungrateful Monarchs

To quote Floridiana, all that was left to do after that was housekeeping. Thoroughly scripted housekeeping, of course.

Still on his stage, Katu gave the prostrate demons his sternest stare and demanded if they repented of their deeds and deserved the forgiveness of the Divine Intercessor. For their part, the demons groveled deeper into the dirt and replied in unison that they did not but hoped he would grant them his divine grace anyway.

I'd wondered if the foxling might balk at this public humiliation, but having committed to my plan, she followed through with passion. She must have viewed it as an act of subservience to me rather than to Heaven, because you rarely saw such a dramatic genuflection.

There was a slightly hairy (haha) moment when she vowed in a high, clear voice, "I shall eat no human flesh ever again, however many more millennia I shall live."

At that, the wolf chieftain's head jerked up. But the foxling turned her head just far enough to stare at him, and he gulped, ducked his shaggy head, and repeated the oath.

The sight of such a vast horde of demons swearing off human flesh for the rest of their existences made quite an impression on the residents of Goldhill. To be more precise, they went wild. With joy, this time.

Out came their festival clothing, their drums, their firecrackers. The bears shouldered Katu's platform, and we marched the foxling and her chieftains into the city, where the crowd engulfed us. People screamed and cheered and belted out our modified hymn, "Praise to the Mighty Kitchen God." Dragon dancers made their dragon undulate ahead of us, clearing our way. Lion dancers bounded in and out of our procession, nearly tripping Dusty a couple times until he snorted at them, blowing off half of one lion's mane. After that, they kept a respectful distance.

Instead of taking the shortest path to the Temple, we paraded around Goldhill, passing as many of its residents – even the slum dwellers – as possible. After all, everyone was equal in the eyes of the Kitchen God (or so Katu claimed), which meant that everyone should get an equal chance to grab their offerings and fall in behind us.

The palace was our last stop. As we sang and danced towards the main gate, I felt a twinge of unease. Would Anthea do her part and bring the queen outside to pay her respects to the Kitchen God, as represented by the Voice of the Divine Intercessor? Or would Jullia dig in her embroidered slipper heels and refuse to acknowledge him?

She couldn't shut us down now, any more than the Earl of Black Crag could retake his mansion. But if she used her power to harass us, she could make our lives – especially Katu's and the priests' lives – very unpleasant.

Splitting off from Stripey, I dipped down to ask Bobo, Do you see them? Are they coming out?

Bobo raised her long neck and swiveled it around. "Uh-huh! Yep! I sssee a palanquin coming out!"

Whew. Anthea had followed through with her part.

The dragon dancers were the first to catch sight of the red-and-gold palanquin. They danced their dragon off to a side, knelt, and made it bow its head. The rest of us non-priests followed suit. When the priests forgot their orders and began to bend their knees, I signaled them to stay upright.

Katu, with his flair for the theatrical, needed no such reminder. He simply folded his hands together inside the sleeves of his robes and gazed down at the palanquin.

From behind the heavy folds of silk came the queen's cool voice. "Well met, High Priest of the Kitchen God."

Katu inclined his head. "It is thanks to the grace of the Divine Intercessor, Your Majesty. I am but a conduit for his everlasting love."