The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

“What do you want now?” Anthea demanded of me and Lodia.

Well, mostly of me, but I nudged Lodia’s neck with my wing, prompting her to speak up. Wonder of wonders, she actually did.

“Um, Lady Anthea, Your Ladyship, might I – would you – might Your Ladyship have a moment…?”

Ask to speak in private, I whispered. Anthea wasn’t going to want to bargain with one member of her staff in front of the others.

“In – in private, if it pleases Your Ladyship…?”

For some reason, Lodia phrased the simple request as if it were the final imposition that would convince the raccoon dog to turn her out of the mansion.

But of course Anthea didn’t. Her eyes moved from me to Lodia’s trembling form and then down to the bundle of fabric in the girl’s arms. With a curt nod, she headed for a side parlor, where she arranged herself in a cushioned rosewood chair. Like the rest of her furniture, it had been carved in imitation of the style of the City of Dawn Song, five centuries earlier.

“All right, speak,” she commanded. Then, since Lodia was too overcome to utter a word, Anthea nodded at the bundle of fabric. “Is that a mock-up for a new dress?”

“Yes, Your Ladyship.” Before I could remind her not to get distracted from the purpose of this meeting, Lodia was shaking out the gown. She swished it to show Anthea how the layers of embroidered silk gauze drifted over one another and created an impression of a princess-of-the-night garden.

At the sight, Anthea’s eyes lit up. “Is that why you asked for the dress? Because you wanted to try out that?”

“Yes, Your Ladyship. I thought – I thought it might work with other designs too. Um, to go with the seasons. Like maple leaves in the fall, and – ”

“I love it.”

Although Lodia twitched with shock at the praise, Anthea took no notice. Her eyes were tracking the sway of the embroidered leaves and flowers.

“Yes. Maple leaves will do nicely, if you can finish by the middle of fall at the latest. Otherwise, a winter theme would be best,” Anthea told her, proving that she knew how fast – or, rather, slowly – her Junior Wardrobe Mistress worked.

“Yes, Your Ladyship. I was thinking, for winter, maybe plum blossoms and bamboo? I can show you a design I’ve been sketching…?”

“No need for that. Do you have everything you need?”

This time, it was I who reared back in shock. Anthea was never so generous when it came to the Temple!

Before I could recollect myself, Lodia was bobbing her head. “Yes, Your Ladyship, I do.”

No, she didn’t!

“Very good, then.” Assuming that approval for the new dress design was the purpose of this meeting, Anthea was on the verge of dismissing Lodia.

I poked the side of the girl’s neck with my pointiest feathers. Ask her.

If Lodia could hear me, then of course Anthea could too. “What was that?” she asked sharply. “What are you getting my Junior Wardrobe Mistress to ask for this time?”

Nothing for the Temple, I retorted. If I needed something for the Temple, I’d tell you myself.

“No, you’d go out and order it and tell the tradespeople to send the bills to me.”

My point exactly.

Lodia’s head was swiveling between me and Anthea.

Ask her. This is the best time to ask.

Maybe my tone was a little too ferocious to match those words. Lodia’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t seem to get out any words.

Anthea sighed. “Just say it, Lodia. I assume if Piri got herself involved, it’s probably something important. Or at least something I’ll regret not knowing about.” Unspoken was the: “So I can foil her if necessary.”

I rolled my eyes.

Lodia clutched the dress like a rag doll and squeaked, “Um…the lighting in my room…it’s maybe a little dark.... But it’s all right, I’m sure I can make it work! I can just sew outdoors! It’s nothing to trouble Your Ladyship over!” And she bobbled a bow, ready to flee.

Oh no, she wasn’t running away from this. It is absolutely something you should trouble her over, I informed her at the same time that Anthea asked, “Do you need more lanterns?”

“More” lanterns? She doesn’t have a single lantern! She’s been getting by with the little bit of sunlight that comes through the window and two measly candles that she doesn’t even dare light because she’s afraid she can’t get any more when they’re gone! Have you seen how much more she squints these days?

Anthea blinked. Obviously, she hadn’t. “Well, why didn’t you say something earlier?” she asked Lodia, who just squeezed the dress harder and mumbled something unintelligible. Anthea considered the girl for a moment. “Well. I can’t have such a promising young fashion designer going blind on me. Camphorus Septimus!”

Her steward, who looked almost exactly like his older brother, my steward Camphorus Unus, progressed into the parlor with the same stately tread. “Yes, my lady?”

“Make sure Lodia gets however many lanterns she needs for her workroom. The spelled lanterns, mind.” She considered the mute girl for another moment. “And do check on them regularly to make sure the spells haven’t run down,” she instructed, proving how well she knew her Junior Wardrobe Mistress.

“Yes, my lady.” The steward turned to Lodia. “If you would like to accompany me to select the lanterns yourself, Miss? We have an assortment of different shapes, sizes, and brightnesses.”

“Um, yes, that would be good, sir, if it’s not too much of a hassle….” She managed to gabble out some thanks to Anthea.

As we followed Camphorus Septimus out of the parlor, I glanced back at the raccoon dog, surprised by how easily she’d caved. Given how much of a fight she put up over Temple bills, I’d expected to have to puppet, er, coach Lodia through hideously complex negotiations. I hadn’t expected Anthea to offer up a constant supply of lanterns spelled to cast bright, even light all on her own. Was she feeling unwell?

The raccoon dog was staring off into space, chewing on her lower lip as she mulled over something. My last glimpse, before the doorframe cut off my line of sight, was the triumphant smile that curved up her lips.

That smile bothered me the whole flight back to the Temple. However, as soon as I arrived, more pressing concerns outweighed it. As I attempted to hunt down Floridiana to update her on the Lodia situation, Temple staff kept stopping me to consult me on festival preparations.

There was the latest iteration of the menu, vastly expanded since we were expecting many more attendees, including a whole passel of demons who would want flesh, er, meat. “Check with Sphaera if we should serve raw meat,” I instructed the chef, who winced but bowed his assent.

Then there were the samples of incense sticks to sniff before we ordered in bulk, as well as the extra offering tables and porcelain and bronze dishware that we needed for the flood of worshippers who were already pouring through our doors. “Check the quality of each one,” I warned. “Don’t let the merchants slip in inferior goods.”

Every couple feet that I flew down the hallway, someone would stop me with another urgent question. Thank goodness Camphorus Unus was there to deal with the mundane issues, such as hiring more cleaning staff!

At last, I shook off the landscape designer, who wanted to know the precise shade of grey gravel to use for the smaller paths in the gardens, flapped into the workroom, and dropped onto Floridiana’s desk.

Phew, that was exhausting!

The mage snatched up the sheet of paper she was writing on before I smudged the wet ink.

“What was ssso exhausssting?” asked Bobo.

I waved a wing at the door. All of that. Also, getting Lodia to ask Anthea for lanterns.

Floridiana’s head jerked up. “Did she?”

Yes. They’ll help, but not enough. How’s progress on your end?

FLoridiana scowled, which was an answer in itself. “I already told you I don’t specialize in healing. The only magical solution I could think of would be to stamp a farseeing spell on her forehead every time she embroiders, which is very much not practical. Also, seal paste contains cinnabar, which is toxic to humans, so that would be a very bad idea.”

Yes, that did indeed sound like a surpassingly poor idea.

What if you stamped it onto a piece of cloth that she could tie over her forehead? suggested Stripey.

Floridiana’s eyebrows pinched together harder. “The spell would need regular re-stamping. Which I would not be here to do. If you think Lady Anthea would be willing to pay for regular mage services…?”

She might, actually. Given how much she spent on her wardrobe every year, the added cost of occasional re-stampings would be trivial. But the image of Lodia tying a piece of cloth around her head like a common working girl made me cringe. It would be such a waste of a nicely shaped forehead and well-formed hairline.

“The non-magical alternatives would be a magnifying glass that she can mount on her desk, or quartz lenses that she can wear over her eyes,” Floridiana went on.

Quartz?

The image that popped into my mind was rose quartz beads. I could not imagine how blocking the eyes with solid pieces of pink rock would improve anyone’s vision.

“It’s clear quartz that they grind into concave lenses – well, never mind the details. They work. That’s the important part.” Floridiana dropped the technical explanation, proving that she knew me as well as Anthea knew Lodia. “The main issue is that no one’s figured out a good way of getting them to stay on your face. Most scholars hold them with one hand while reading, but Lodia needs both hands to embroider. I’ve read that some people use ribbons to secure the frame to the ears.”

Ribbons? I asked, my interest piqued. I’m sure Lodia can do something to make the ribbons look good.

If she’s going to be wearing ribbons on her head anyway, she could just tie one around her temples and have the seal stamped on it, Stripey put in.

That was true. Both the magical and non-magical solutions were going to involve some change to Lodia’s personal style. But which would look better?

“We can asssk her,” Bobo suggested. “Ssshe can pick, sssince ssshe’s the one who’s going to be wearing it.”

That was an excellent idea that I hadn’t even thought of.

“The lenses,” said Lodia without hesitation when Floridiana laid out the options. “Oh…well, I mean, if they’re not too expensive…?”

I myself had been leaning towards the spell. In my mind, the headband had morphed from a silk ribbon into a delicate chain with gold links and gemstones and an elegant disk of mother-of-pearl hanging in the center of the forehead with the seal stamped on it.

Why the lenses? I asked.

I was mostly curious as to her reasoning, but Lodia took it as an interrogation. She squirmed.

“Well, I was thinking…if the spell has to be re-stamped often…what if Her Ladyship….” She trailed off, clearly unwilling to say out loud that Anthea might run out of money or patience for the expense. “If they’re lenses, they’ll just work all the time.”

That’s very practical, Stripey said approvingly. Yes, I think we should definitely go with the lenses.

Oh. Well, when you put it that way. Yes. Reluctantly, I relinquished my visions of a jeweled diadem. Floridiana, please make the arrangements, since you know all about these quartz lenses.

Floridiana threw up her hands, as if to say, “Why is it always me?!” At Lodia’s stricken expression, though, she hastily reassured the girl, “Not you. Pip. That was meant for Pip.”

For some reason, everyone in the room gave knowing nods, even Lodia.