The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

“Dusty and I will need to leave after the festival.”

Floridiana sprang this announcement on me as we made a final tour of the Temple, inspecting it from front door to back altar to make sure it was pristine before the Festival of the Kitchen God.

Well, I supposed I couldn’t really accuse her of springing it on me, since she’d already made noises about returning to her students in the Claymouth Barony. I’d convinced her to stay only by helping her concoct a lesson plan.

Also, the Festival hadn’t even started yet, so we had some time before we had to say our final goodbyes.

Our final goodbyes. That sounded so…final.

But unless she made this trek south again in the next couple years, she wouldn’t return to South Serica in my lifetime, and Flicker had warned me that I was banned from traveling to Claymouth. It had been Aurelia’s decree, apparently, to keep my toxic influence away from her daughter’s soul’s reincarnation. Personally, I thought Taila was growing up into a fine young girl, slingshot and all, thank you very much.

I could probably appeal to the Kitchen God to override Aurelia’s decree – but was it worth expending the very large favor he owed me on that? No. Better to save it and call on him in the direst circumstance.

“Piri? Did you hear what I said?” Floridiana waved a hand in front of my beak.

Oh, right. I hadn’t actually answered her out loud. And she couldn’t read minds, which was definitely for the best. Otherwise she might get it into her head that I’d miss her or something after she left.

Yes, I heard you. And then, since my long silence seemed to require an explanation, I added, I was just thinking that we should do something about Lodia’s vision before you go.

Floridiana raised her eyebrows. “And you waited until now to tell me this?”

I raised my wings in an echo of her brows. What? Do you need more than a couple days to come up with a cure?

“A cure? Do you really think I can cure myopia, just like that – ” Here she cut herself off and cleared her throat before she could let slip that no, actually, she really wasn’t that good of a mage, and two centuries wouldn’t be long enough for her to come up with a cure, much less two days. “An excellent idea. I have noticed that she’s been squinting more and more lately. Too much embroidery.” And she shot me a glare, as if it were my fault for commissioning so many priest robes.

I shrugged my wings. Lodia would find things to embroider and ways to ruin her vision on her very own. She didn’t need me for that.

Although – I supposed the tight deadlines we’d been working under probably hadn’t helped. And from what I’d seen, the lighting in her workroom at Anthea’s mansion wasn’t great either. The Junior Wardrobe Mistress didn’t rank high enough in the pecking order to get a room with large windows, or a lot of candles, and of course Lodia hadn’t requested anything better. It would never have occurred to her to leverage her talents or play on Anthea’s ego to obtain anything better.

That would have to change.

I was only a mortal sparrow, with a lifespan of three-ish years, according to Floridiana. I wasn’t going to be around as Pip for the rest of Lodia’s life to fight her battles for her, and who knew where I would reincarnate the next time? For all I knew, the Kitchen God might banish me to the other side of the Jade Mountain Wilds to start a Temple there.

I’ll talk to her and Anthea, I promised. You work on doing something about her vision.

When I flew through Lodia’s window in Anthea’s mansion, I found her – what else? – sewing. Hemming a gown, to be precise. Floridiana was right: The girl really did squint harder than she had when I first met her in Lychee Grove. I’d thought this position was a great opportunity for her, but maybe I hadn’t taken very good care of her after all.

Not that I’d promised anyone I would, but still.

What are you working on? I asked, perching on the edge of the sewing basket.

Lodia was so absorbed in her work that she jumped. “Oh! Oh, Pip! How are you doing? Did you need something for the Temple?”

Did I really only visit her when I needed something? I felt a twinge of…something odd in the vicinity of my chest. I must have pulled a muscle on my flight over.

Not today. I just came to see how you’re doing. Is that one of Anthea’s gowns?

I already knew it was, because it certainly wasn’t one of the priest robes.

Lodia bobbled her head. “Yes, it’s the one she was wearing on the day of the battle. She was escorting the Queen across the courtyard, so the hem was ruined, see? I had to cut it off.” She fished around on her worktable until she found an even strip of silk. She lifted it to show me how the fabric was dirty and frayed from getting dragged over the paving stones.

So what’s the plan? Is Anthea going to set a new fashion where she shows off her ankles?

I was only half joking. I could see the raccoon dog scandalizing the court like that.

Lodia, however, gasped. “Her ankles? Oh, no! Never! It’s just – I had an idea for a new design, so I asked if I could have this to try it out on, since she was just going to throw it away anyway.”

This was just an experimental piece? I swallowed a sigh. It was just so Lodia to take so much care in trimming off a perfectly straight strip from a worn-out dress that Anthea planned to throw out.

So what’s your new idea?

In answer, Lodia stood and held up the formerly-ruined gown. She’d basted countless layers of new skirts to the waist – all translucent silk gauze embroidered with the blossoms and leaves of the princess-of-the-night plant. She swished the gown, making the filmy layers waft to and fro.

“I was thinking, if I use lots of layers of gauze, it will look sort of three dimensional. Sort of like you’re looking at a garden. And I can do different plants for different seasons – willows and lotuses for the summer, maple leaves for the fall, plum blossoms and bamboo for the winter, cherry blossoms for the spring….”

Her list went on, but I was watching the dress, mesmerized. For a moment, I imagined that I was back in that ruined village outside Lychee Grove to which Katu had taken me, only this time the flowers were in bloom. The layer upon layer of translucent silk lent depth to the embroidered scene, and the gentle sway of the gauze made it seem as if the plants were drifting back and forth on a peaceful nighttime breeze.

“…do you think?”

Hmm? I beg your pardon?

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

Oh yes. Definitely. I didn’t need to think twice. I wanted those dresses, and I couldn’t even wear them. Lodia, you need to ask for better working conditions.

“Better working conditions?” I couldn’t tell if she were frowning because of what I’d said, or because she was squinting to see my body language.

Yes.

I wasn’t expecting her to agree right away, and she didn’t disappoint.

“Oh, but she’s already so generous to me. I get a stipend every month – and she gives me free room and board – and this workroom is so big.” Lodia gestured around the room, which was twice as big as her family’s common space back home in Lychee Grove.

I shook my head, exaggerating the movement to make sure she caught it. To someone like Anthea, this isn’t generosity. This is the bare minimum.

“The bare minimum?!”

Have you seen the Senior Wardrobe Mistress’ rooms?

This was a guess on my part, since I hadn’t seen them myself, but I suspected they were larger in both size and number. And I was correct, because Lodia immediately protested, “Oh, but that’s different. She’s worked for Lady Anthea for so much longer, and she has so much more experience, she even advises Her Ladyship on what to wear – I could never do that….”

“Never” was a strong statement.

You’ll get there too someday. Look, it’s not just about what you think you can make do with. You need to get other people to appreciate you too. People value things – and people – more, if they have to pay more.

Lodia fell silent, sat back down, and fiddled with the strip of dirty silk. I recognized the mulish set of her mouth. Having decided that she was over-blessed simply to have this job, she had no intention of bargaining for better working conditions.

I tried a different tack. At least ask her for a spelled lantern, to cast bright, even light. You’re ruining your eyesight.

“Oh, but she already gives me so many candles. I couldn’t possibly ask for more!” And she pointed to a whole two tapers tucked in a corner. “Besides, I can always work in the garden when it’s sunny.”

Yeah, but what about when it’s not sunny? When it’s evening or night, or when it’s raining? Look at it this way – if you can work for longer periods, and for many more years to come, that benefits Anthea. The cost of a lantern is nothing compared to finding a talented Wardrobe Mistress. And if she doesn’t pay for lanterns, she’s just going to be paying for lenses or spells to correct your vision, which is going to be even more expensive in the long run. So really, if you’re worried about your employer, you should request better working conditions.

Lodia had a stricken expression on her face. I thought she was going to come up with more excuses to refuse to negotiate with Anthea, but instead she mumbled, “But Pip, how do I even…ask for so much…? Where do I even start…?” And she cast me a pleading look, hoping that if she looked pathetic enough, I would do it for her.

Nope. Not this time. She wasn’t getting out of talking to Anthea.

I’ll talk you through it, we’ll practice it here in private, and I’ll go with you when you meet with her, I promised. Look, Lodia, you faced a mob. You faced the queen. You faced a whole demon army! What do you have to fear from someone who actually likes you?

She muttered something that might have been, “But that only makes it worse,” but since she sighed and nodded, I didn’t press the issue.

Anthea left the palace in a foul mood.

No, in an anxious mood, if she were being honest with herself. She should be. It was safer that way. But she really didn’t want to admit to herself that the Temple project’s success had set her on a collision course with her friend.

Jullie felt threatened by the Temple to the Kitchen God. She couldn’t shut it down, not with its wild popularity among her subjects, but she could and did want to bring it under Crown control.

“You have nothing to fear from Len Katullus,” Anthea had protested, but Jullie had raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing to fear from that malcontent? I read the reports from Lychee Grove. He was frequently seen ranting against my policies in the marketplace.”

“Yes, but – ” Anthea had had to stop, because she couldn’t for the life of her remember why Piri had put such a man – a commoner, a political malcontent – in charge of the Temple. “He’s very charismatic. Even if he’s a bit on the fiery side, he’s an asset.”

“To me – or to you?”

Jullie had dropped it after that final retort, but Anthea had no doubt that the Queen was mulling over her options. She couldn’t shut down the Temple without setting off a fresh bout of riots. She also couldn’t afford to remove the miracle-working High Priest who had supposedly called upon the might of the Divine Intercessor to quell the demons and save the kingdom. However, she obviously no longer trusted Anthea to shape the direction of the Temple. Her next move was going to be installing some means of royal control.

Anthea didn’t care who ran the Temple so long as her patron god got his offerings, but what if the royal government tried to limit those? Or hinder the Temple’s spread to other cities? Piri envisioned a network of Temples throughout Serica, all devoted to the Kitchen God. He was going to love that.

Jullie, on the other hand – Jullie was not.

What to do about that?

Trapped between her patron god on one side, and her friend and liege on the other, Anthea fretted throughout the ride back from the palace. When her bearers set down her palanquin, she stepped out to the usual chorus of greetings and bowing from her staff – and to two unusual faces in the assembly. One was her extremely shy Junior Wardrobe Mistress.

The other was Piri.

Anthea groaned. Her mood was about to get a whole lot fouler. She already knew it.