Piri? Why do you think my name is “Piri”? I’m Pip. My lady, I added very, very tardily.

If I were a mere messenger – which I really was! – then I should have been addressing her with all the proper courtesies from the start.

But it was Anthea.

And speaking of Anthea being Anthea, the raccoon dog spirit gave a little bounce on the bed, which had the effect of launching me into the air.

“Because that’s exactly how you used to talk, you silly thing! Didja really think I’d forget? We were, like, Best Friends Forever!”

The slang made me wince. Not least because it was several centuries out of date. I hadn’t heard any modern Sericans using it.

Also, Anthea must have done some serious memory revision if that were how she remembered us. The period of time during which any neutral observer would have termed us “BFFs” had been very, very brief, over almost as soon as it started. But if that were how she preferred to remember us, so much the better.

Fluttering down, I landed on her shoulder and nestled up against her neck. The position conveyed a sense of emotional closeness, and had the added perk of giving me an unflattering view of the side of her face from the bottom up, which made me feel better.

Yeah, you’re right, I cooed. It’s me. But you can’t tell anyone. We’ll all be in a loooot of trouble with Heaven if you do.

At that, she giggled. She actually giggled. “Oh, you silly thing, you don’t have to worry about that! You won’t get me in trouble with Heaven! Have you forgotten who my patron is?”

(I was pretty sure she’d never actually told me.)

Have you forgotten who mine was?

“No, but the Kitchen God isn’t like that. He isn’t nearly powerful enough to mess around with Earthly politics in such a major way as You Know Who. Let alone Heavenly politics!”

That doesn’t mean politics won’t mess around with him! You’re being too naïve about this! You’re going to get eaten alive!

As I lectured her, I felt as if we were back in the City of Dawn Song, just after she arrived, newly awakened, from the countryside. She’d been another baby spirit gawking with wide-eyed innocence at the sights and at me – the thousand-year-old nine-tailed fox spirit who had deigned to take her under my (at-the-time-metaphorical) wing – with awe and worship.

Until court politics had turned her head. Until Aurelia had turned her head.

“Me – naïve? I’m six hundred and six years old, I’ll have you know! Stop treating me like a baby!”

Anthea’s lips pushed out into a fake, cutesy pout that was entirely at odds with our life-and-death-and-reincarnation-as-a-tapeworm situation. She looked more ready to simper at a rich old geezer until he petted her on the head and handed her a really big hunk of jade.

Keep your voice down!

“I am!”

Am not! (Wait, that grammar wasn’t right, was it?) You are not! Keeping your voice down, I mean.

“Well, neither are you! And if you’re here to scold me, then I’m going back to sleep.” And she flopped over onto her side (the opposite side from me – good, she didn’t want to crush me) and closed her eyes.

Ah, the epitome of maturity, our Anthea.

I pecked her ear, not hard enough to draw blood. Cut that out. I’ll stop treating you like a baby when you stop acting like one.

Her response was to pull a pillow over her head, again slowly, to give me time to get out of the way.

Look. Annie. I forced myself to use her silly nickname, the one she liked so much. This isn’t a social call. We don’t have much time. The Earl of Black Crag brought an army to surround Lychee Grove, and the Lady of the Lychee Tree is preparing a counterattack.

That shocked Anthea out of her childish melodramatics. She shot up. “What?!”

There was no helping it. I was going to have to flatter her.

We’re hoping to persuade the queen to recall him and stop the battle. Since you’re the closest to her, we’re hoping that you can speak to her. You’re the only one who save everyone in Lychee Grove. You’re our last, best hope!

Once I got going, the old lies flowed easily from my lips. Beak. Whatever.

Since Anthea was still busy gaping, I kept going. Would you happen to know if it were the queen herself who sent the Earl of Black Crag to attack Lychee Grove? Or if he acted of his own accord? Because it makes a crucial difference to how we approach the situation.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“Uh-uh, I haven’t heard anything. Jullie never said a word about attacking – oh. Huh.” Anthea scratched her head (such a vulgar gesture). “No, uh-uh, no. She wouldn’t. But she’s been frustrated with the Lady of the Lychee Tree. Would he have taken that to mean that she wanted him to – ? No, no, he wouldn’t. He’s smarter than that….”

Patiently, I nudged her train of thought along. So the most likely conclusion is that he is acting of his own accord and against the queen’s wishes?

“Yeah, yeah, I think so. Well, no. Not necessarily against her wishes…. It’s just that she never ordered him to do it.”

Would she make up her mind as to which one it was already?

But did she imply to him that he should “resolve” the Lychee Grove problem for her? I made air quotes with my wingtips.

“Ummmm….”

I could practically see a question mark pop up over her head. Stars and demons, she was just as useless as ever. No wonder the Lady of the Lychee Tree, Ancemus, Missa, Rohanus, and the others never considered begging her for help. Because they’d known it was a lost cause. The battle would be over and Lychee Grove razed to the ground before Anthea grasped what was at stake.

On behalf of all the innocent people who are going to get caught in the crossfire – including little Loddie who embroidered that beautiful mirror cover – will you intercede with the queen? You are the only one who can save them.

“Oh…I don’t know…. I make it a rule not to get involved in politics….”

She didn’t? Then what was the point of getting close to the queen?!

Will you make an exception in this case? It would be a tragedy if South Serica broke apart in a civil war….

“Oh, you think?” An unwelcome, steely light came into Anthea’s eyes. I’d seen it before, back when we clashed in Cassius’ court.

Yes. The Empire has already fragmented into four pieces, so I do think it would be a tragedy if it fragmented even further –

“And whose fault was that?” she exploded. “I loved the City of Dawn Song! It was my home! It was so beautiful! Life was so good! Why’d you do it? Why’d you destroy it all?”

Why do you think I did it?!

“I don’t care! The point is that you did! You ruined everything, and then you were dragged up to Heaven and executed by the Jade Emperor!”

That was just dumb politics! I miscalculated, okay?

“So why do you think I’m staying out of politics? Serica is messed up enough! I don’t want to mess it up even more, and either live in a messed-up world or get dragged up to Heaven and executed too!”

Whirling, she flung herself across the bed facedown. Muffled sniffling came from the sheets.

After a long moment, I sighed. Are you homesick? I asked in a gentler tone.

“Of course I’m homesick. I’m homesick for a place – no, a world – that no longer exists. I can’t ever go home again. Because it’s gone forever.”

I had to look away from her heaving shoulders. I’d anticipated an awkward conversation when I came here – but this was turning out to be awkward on a whole different level and in a completely different way.

While she sobbed herself back into calmness, I hopped around inspecting her furniture and trinkets. I hadn’t spent much time in her bedchamber in Cassius’ palace, but I thought that this one, like the rest of her miniature palace, resembled her room back then.

Or maybe I was just twisting my memories to fit the narrative. The narrative she wanted to tell.

Beaks couldn’t curl, but mine made a good effort at it.

Let’s stop dancing around each other. We’ve known each other way too long for that, and I have neither the time nor the inclination at the moment. What will it take to convince you to intercede with the queen on behalf of Lychee Grove?

She sat right up, traces of tears on her cheeks still, but with that hardness in her eyes. “The Kitchen God ordered me to get Jullie to increase the offerings to him. The problem is, there’s no money.”

Ah. And she feared that if the Kitchen God turned on her, or just failed to intercede on her behalf the next time she got in trouble, then she, too, would find herself dragged up to Heaven and executed.

You just need to increase the offerings to him? Not to any of the other gods?

Her sarcastically elaborate shrug summed up her opinion of that question. Fair enough. Whoever heard of an altruistic god?

I want your oath. Save my friends and Lychee Grove, and I’ll tell you how to get the Kitchen God his offerings.

That hard light was still in her eyes as she faced me. “I’ll get the incense.”

----------------------------------------

Where’s Rosssie? Bobo wondered for the ten-thousandth time. Is ssshe all right? Did ssshe get caught? Hurt? Ssshould I ssstay and watch over Floridiana and Dusssty, or ssshould I go look for her?

Yet even if she did go off in search of Rosie, where would she start? This forest was so big! Bobo had never seen such a big forest before. She’d heard Stripey and other whistling ducks reminisce over ale about how all of Claymouth used to be a vast, ancient forest, but that had been long before her time. Now all that remained was the wood where the Baron and his friends went hunting, and in which Lord Magnissimus’ pigs liked to forage. It was much, much smaller than this southern forest, and its undergrowth wasn’t so thick, and its leaves weren’t so ginormous, and, in general, you could just see much better when you were inside it.

Bobo dangled from her branch again, poking her head through the leaves to check on Floridiana and Dusty. No change there. The mage was still sitting patiently on a root, sketching by moonlight. Dusty was still fretting and stamping, but he kept his whining to a minimum, because every time he neighed too loudly, one of the pangolins would thump him with a club-like tail. Rosie hadn’t been kidding about those tails!

Just when Bobo had about convinced herself to go look for Rosie, an owl spirit glided into view, calling “Hoo! Hoo-hoo-hoo!”

“Hoo! Hoo-hoo-hoo!” one of the humans called back, raising his arm for the bird to land on. “What news? Is it time?”

“They attacked first! In the west! His Grace orders all squads to advance! Watch out for anything with roots or leaves!” And the owl took off again to spread the word.

“Watch out for anything with roots or leaves”? Although Bobo had no idea what he’d meant, the soldiers below were hastily packing up, starting with the equipment closest to the trees.

Floridiana poked the root she was sitting on with the end of her brush, but nothing happened.

Bobo cocked her head at the trunk of her tree, double-checking that it wasn’t awakened. Nope. Like she’d thought, it was just a normal tree. Still, to play it safe, she whispered, “There, there, niccce tree, niccce tree. I’m a friend. I’m a fr– ”

Something started to creak and rustle nearby. The branches of the tree next to Bobo’s were waving like in a winter storm – except there was no wind.

Huh?

“Take cover!” bellowed the pangolin leader.

In the next instant, roots ripped out of the ground, blinding everyone with dirt and rocks, and then lashing at them.