The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

They sent me off alone, without so much as a flock of decoy sparrows to confuse the enemy. Perhaps I should have been offended at how expendable they seemed to deem me – okay, I was offended by how expendable they did deem me – but mostly I was relieved.

Because I had a stop to make before I left the city.

And it was far, far better to make it alone, out of sight of anyone who reported to the Earth Court.

Lodia! Lodia! Quick, I need your help!

“Pip? What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

The girl was still up, sitting at the dining table with her sewing box open before her. She wasn’t embroidering anything, though, just staring blankly at a skein of coral-pink floss.

Which was for the best, because that candle failed to illuminate the space anywhere near enough for fine work. Honestly, if I could have gotten her through the forest safely, I’d have dragged her along just to get her outdoors. Unfortunately, that was not an option – but she was going to travel with me in a metaphorical sense.

No time to explain. Quick, I need that mirror cover!

“The mirror cover? Which mirror cover?”

The one with the princess-of-the-night blossoms. I need it now.

“’Tisn’t done! I haven’t finished all the petals – ”

Even as she protested, she lifted the top tray of her sewing box to reveal a familiar piece of fabric. Unfolding the pouch, she showed me the front. The design still had a pair of white flowers illuminated from behind by a full moon, but she’d reworked the curves of the petals so that they seemed to flutter in a night breeze.

That looks great! Roll it up and tie it to my back.

“I beg your pardon?! Why do you want it? What do you need it for? ‘Tis not done!”

I didn’t know what she was fretting over. The mirror cover looked perfectly done to me. It’s good enough. It’s beautiful, I added – which, coming from me, was powerful praise indeed.

However, Lodia’s mouth set into those stubborn lines I’d seen just before she cut up her work last time. “No, no, that one needs to be redone. ‘Tis too stiff, see?” With a fingertip, she traced the edge of one of the outermost, long, spiky petals.

I literally flung myself across the embroidery, spreading my wings to shield as much of it as I could. Lodia, I’m serious. We don’t have time for your perfectionism. I need to leave for the royal court right now, and I need to take that mirror cover with me.

Unfortunately, that explanation failed to extract the speed and decisiveness with which she’d acted earlier.

“The royal court? What’s going on? No one’s telling me anything! All I know is that you rushed here saying the Earl of Black Crag brought his army – and Father went to the Earth Court and hasn’t returned – and Grandmother went to the forest and hasn’t returned – and I don’t even know if they’re all right – and no one will tell me anything!”

For the first time since I arrived, I took a good look at her face. In the light of the candle flame, the tip of her nose was red, as if she’d been sniffling.

Oh. She was as worried about her family as I was about my friends, wasn’t she?

Even though I wanted to hop up and down and scream at her to hand over the mirror cover, I forced myself to summarize events for her. Everyone’s all right, Rohanus and Missa are at the Earth Court, the Lady decided to launch a surprise attack, and I’m going to the royal court to get the queen to stop her uncle.

“They’re going to fight?!”

Yeah, that had been my reaction too. They certainly intend to. But I am going to stop it as soon as I can, which means I need that mirror cover right now.

I got to my claws and started dragging the pouch along the table, but Lodia put a palm on it to stop me. “Wait, Pip, what does the mirror cover have to do with anything?”

I really did screech then. It’s going to be a bribe! How else do you think you get people to listen to you?

“A bribe?” She gulped hard. “That’s not going to work – ‘tis not good enough – no one’s going to want it – ”

By this point, I had really, truly hit the end of my patience. Then do you have something that is good enough that is ready right now? Because I can assure you that the longer you dither, the worse it’s going to be. What’s it going to be: your city’s literal existence – or your artistic pride?

She stared at me, stricken, for one scream-inducing minute longer. Then, without a word, she folded and rolled the mirror cover until it was small enough to strap to my back. Her fingers trembled, but less from fear and more from nervous tension, I judged.

Stars and demons, if the girl could pull herself together and act in a crisis, why hadn’t she done it faster? Why couldn’t she do it in her everyday life?

Well, that was a problem for later. Right now, I had a queen to hunt down.

Although Goldhill was the nominal capital of South Serica, that wasn’t where I headed. No, the court was peripatetic, traveling from royal estate to noble host’s estate to royal estate, staying in one place for only as long as local resources could support it. At the moment, the Lady of the Lychee Tree had told me, the queen was availing herself of Anthea’s hospitality. Apparently, the raccoon dog had wrangled a parcel of land for herself and styled herself the “Countess of Brightwater.”

I supposed it could have been worse. She could be going around demanding that everyone call her the “Countess of Cute.”

I would hope that lavish entertainments for the Crown would bankrupt her – except that in that case, she would simply induce some idiot noble to bequeath his lands to her, rendering said bankruptcy useless.

Anyway, getting through the forest was child’s play (sparrow’s play?), and Brightwater was easy enough to find, what with a whole entourage camped on the common land. They’d pitched colorful tents and were flying banners embroidered with a dragon chasing a pearl.

A five-clawed dragon, which only Sons and Daughters of Heaven were permitted to use. If that queen didn’t have a pet chimera sent to her by Heaven, then she was no Daughter of Heaven. Still, that was the Jade Emperor’s problem, not mine, even if modern-day perversions drove me insane.

In the distance rose oddly familiar vermillion walls. On the south-facing side, they jutted out to form two wings around a courtyard before the main gate. It was the middle of the night so the courtyard was empty, but I could picture the throng of attention-seekers, favor-seekers, supplicants, messengers, tradesmen, and peddlers who would mob it come dawn.

Because – surprise, surprise – Anthea’s seat of power was a miniature version of Cassius’ palace.

Because of course it was.

But I supposed I shouldn’t complain too much. Her vanity meant that I knew exactly where to find her.

Over the outer wall I flew, across a large square bordered by white marble terraces. White marble stairs and ramps for sedan chairs led up to a miniature version of the Hall of Harmony where Cassius used to hold court. Or rather, where Marcius, with his boring insistence on governing the empire instead of just letting it run itself, would hold court on Cassius’ behalf.

Ah, Marcius. I wondered what he was up to now, and whether he were just as stodgy as an animal as he had been as a human.

I was actually getting just the tiniest bit misty eyed when I passed the upturned roofs and saw the garden beyond it. An ornamental lake, arched bridges, willow trees, lotuses. And, soaring above them, silhouetted against the moon and the silver clouds – a pagoda.

My heart stopped, and then starting pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

That design….

I shot across the garden and zipped in wild circles around the pagoda. I counted the number of floors, squinted at the carvings on the railings, landed on the gold-tiled roof.

It was my pagoda.

Incredibly – miraculously – Anthea had resurrected my pagoda.

My heart was full. A tear ran down my cheek and splashed onto a tile. Truly, I had come home.

Sadly, however, I couldn’t linger in my pagoda for long, no matter how much I yearned to. I was here for a reason. I’d deal with all that time-sensitive stuff, and then I’d come back here with Bobo. I’d show her all of this, regale her with tales of life in the City of Dawn Song. She would love it. Yes. That was what I’d do. And Floridiana, too, would love to see the palace she’d only read about up until now. And, as a baby spirit, Dusty should learn about Serica’s past glory.

But all that would come later. I shook myself, resettled my feathers, and took off.

Presumably for budgetary reasons, Anthea hadn’t created a full replica of the Back Palace. She’d slashed the number of halls, building only the most important ones. She would have surrendered the grandest one (the one where Aurelia had lived until I ousted her) to the queen, so I checked the second-nicest.

And indeed, as I flew around the outside of the building and peered through the latticed windows, Anthea’s bedchamber was just where I expected. The raccoon dog spirit had reverted to animal form in her sleep and was curled up in the center of an oversized bed. Bristly sides rising and falling in a slow rhythm, she resembled a mutt that had snuck onto the bed for a nap while her master was out.

Landing on the sheets next to her, I pitched my voice lower and called in that mysterious voice I’d used on Lodia, Anthea, Anthea. Wake, Anthea.

Unlike Lodia, she was a light sleeper. Her head jerked up, giving me a most unflattering view of the black, mask-like markings around her eyes and snout. Her wet nose twitched.

I hopped back a step to put some distance between us. I hated to have to say this, but – Anthea, you are needed.

“Huh? Who are – wait. Wait. Piri? Is that you?”

What? I hopped back a few more steps, shaking my head frantically.

What? Who? Piri? Of course not! Who’s Piri?

“Oh, just someone I used to know.” (Seriously?! That was how she described me?!) “For a moment, I thought you sounded like – never mind.” Sitting up on her haunches, she snuffled at me. “So who are you? Why’re you in my bedchamber in the middle of the night?”

Shouldn’t that have been the first question she asked?

Actually, no, the first question she should have asked was: “Guards, where are you?” but I was glad she hadn’t. Even if the omission smacked of overconfidence that she could handle an intruder herself.

I flipped my wings importantly and declared, I am here on behalf of the Lady of the Lychee Tree.

I had to bow here, I knew, but I couldn’t do it. Bow – to Anthea? To that silly, naïve, countrified raccoon dog who couldn’t stop gawking at every last object in Cassius’ palace, down to the courtyard flagstones themselves? (“They’re so straight! How’d they cut them all the exact same size?” she’d marveled.)

You’re the one asking her for a favor, whispered the voice at the back of my head that always sounded like Stripey’s. Do you want to save Bobo and the others or not?

Oh, the things I did for Bobo. At least I wasn’t Piri here, I consoled myself. I was pretending to be a sparrow messenger sent by the Lychee Grove Earth Court. It was just a role. I was just play-acting. I could play-act.

She doesn’t know who I am, I reminded myself one last time. Then I clenched my beak, tensed every muscle in my body, and carefully curved my neck down. The unfamiliar weight of the rolled-up mirror cover on my back nearly bowled me over.

Anthea giggled.

I caught myself before I fell flat on my face, but then I didn’t have the muscles to straighten my back again. That mirror cover was just too cursed heavy.

I come bearing a token of the Lady’s esteem. She humbly prays that you will accept it.

She had said no such thing, of course, but I needed Anthea to take the hint and untie the wretched thing.

“Ooooh! She sent me a present? What is it? What is it?!”

In a flash, Anthea transformed into her human form. She picked apart the knots that Lodia had tied, held up the roll of fabric, and flapped it to unfurl it.

It is a mirror cover, embroidered by a particularly talented young woman who lives in Lychee Grove. See how she has captured the swaying of the blossoms. Can you not feel the breath of breeze that stirs the petals?

“Yes, yes, it’s quite good, isn’t it?” Anthea hunched over it, scrutinizing Lodia’s tiny stitches. Her nose bumped into the fabric, and she jerked back. “Beautiful work. What’s the name of the seamstress?”

Ha! Got her!

She’s no seamstress, in fact. Her name is Koh Lodia. She is the granddaughter of –

“Oooooh! You mean little Loddie made this? Little Loddie – all grown up and sewing things! I thought she was still a baby! Last time I saw her, she was this big!”

Anthea held her palms about a foot apart. I assumed she was indicating the length of a human newborn rather than the width of a girl’s torso.

They do grow fast, don’t they? I agreed politely. But I’m afraid I’m here on a matter of some urgency –

“Piri!” Anthea stabbed a pointy fingernail at me, making me jump. “I knew it! It is you!”