The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 163: Lodia's First Speech

It was Lodia. She had already donned the bright, colorful robes of the Matriarch that she had designed and embroidered herself.

Coming from her, it was an awe-inspiring display of initiative, but she was already wilting under everyone's gazes. Before she could droop too far, mumble apologies, and retreat, I zipped over to her.

That's a great idea! But why didn't you tell us ahead of time so we could go over your speech together? I added in a lower voice.

I knew it was the wrong thing to say when she winced. "Sorry, I just – I wasn't planning to – but then I saw everyone here, having fun, and I thought maybe it would be a good time...."

Impulsiveness – no, let's call it spontaneity – seemed to be contagious. I shot Floridiana a dark glare, tallying up all the times she'd served as a poor role model. She'd abandoned her students in the Claymouth Barony so many times that they'd had to prepare a replacement headmistress. She'd dragged Den away from his post in Caltrop Pond twice already, and at some point Heaven was bound to notice that one of its dragon kings had gone absent without leave.

That was, if they hadn't already.

He'd missed that annual draconic conference in Heaven, hadn't he? The one to which Yulus had taken me, where I'd seen Den for the first time, attempting to impress some star sprites? I added "enticing a dragon king into criminal neglect of his duties" to Floridiana's list of trouble-generating actions.

Then I finished it off with her and Dusty's wild gallop into Flying Fish Village, utterly spoiling the grand triumphal entrance I had planned. Yep. A bad influence on the young, for sure.

Lodia's face was growing increasingly stricken as she waited for me to scold her, so I hastened to reassure her. It's a great idea! When people are in a good mood, they're more inclined to listen, more receptive to new ideas. You should keep that in mind for the future too. (On her litter, the foxling perked up and whispered something to a handmaiden. Two rosefinches brought over her notebook and writing utensils so she could record these words of wisdom too.) Anyway, off you go, Lodia!

Flying around behind her, I pushed her forward (with her cooperation, of course).

Everyone! I called. Your attention, please! The Matriarch of the Temple to the Kitchen God would like to lead a prayer of thanksgiving to the Divine Intercessor!

Perhaps Lodia had laid more groundwork for this speech than I'd realized, because there were no puzzled questions as to what a Matriarch did, or who the Divine Intercessor was, or why anyone would bother to give thanks to him. Instead, an expectant hush fell over the villagers as they all faced her.

Lodia's shoulders twitched. At first I wondered if she were quaking with nerves at addressing her first large-scale audience, but no, she was making an aborted attempt to raise her arms the way Katu did. High drama really wasn't her style, though, and she must have realized it too, because she folded her hands in front of her neatly.

"Good people of – of Flying Fish Village, we are gathered here today to give thanks for the harvest." Her chin bobbed as she gulped. "And for peace throughout the land."

Here she broke off as if she hadn't planned what to say beyond this point, or as if she had but the words had vanished from her mind as thoroughly as if Flicker had dunked her into the Tea of Forgetfulness. Still, the villagers waited patiently for her to collect her thoughts.

"It is all thanks to the Divine Intercessor, who dwells in our kitchens and watches over all that we do."

If I hadn't been scrutinizing her audience, I might have missed the slight downturn of the elders' lips. They knew their gods. They knew the Kitchen God watched over us not so much to shield us from harm, but to report our doings to the Jade Emperor.