“Mooncloud, look,” whispered the dragon, “there’s the Palace of the Hundred Stars. That’s where all the star gods live. And that’s the Palace of the Moon, for Lady Chang and the Jade Rabbit and the Cassia Tree Spirit, and those are the Heavenly Gardens for all the gods and goddesses to enjoy, and that’s the Palace of the North Star!” Near the end, his voice rose, earning him a scathing look from Nagi.

I couldn’t (entirely) blame him, though. As part of the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea’s retinue, we were allowed to parade through the main entrance instead of slinking in the side door for prisoners and lesser gods. From the front, Heaven was a more impressive sight by far.

As we passed under the main gate, with its cloud-white columns and nine sapphire roofs, we could see down a broad avenue lined with palaces, pavilions, and pagodas. Elegant gardens were arrayed on either side, their jade-green lakes dotted with lily pads and reflecting the willows. In the distance, surrounded by a white wall, lay an orchard of peach trees that drooped with fruit. And behind that, on the far side, where all paths ended, loomed the complex known as the Palace of the North Star, the seat of the Jade Emperor. That was where you’d find the Hall of Purple Mists.

And the execution plaza.

But we weren’t headed there today. The Dragon King of the Eastern Sea led our procession halfway down the avenue before turning off towards the Sky Breeze Pavilion. Contrary to its peaceful name, we entered to find a hive of activity as star sprite clerks checked off new arrivals’ names on floor-length scrolls, directed dragons and their ministers and their servants to the appropriate suites, and called for imp bellhops to record and deliver all the luggage. The Sky Breeze Pavilion had four wings, and we were assigned to – what else? – the east wing.

“Aaaah,” sighed my dragon once we’d settled in and he was relaxing by the window. “Aaaaaah.”

I expected him to follow up with some comment about how utterly amazing the view was, but he didn’t. He just nodded for Nagi to move a lacquered side table next to him for my cage. When we’d first risen from the Eastern Sea in the parade of dragons, I’d wondered whether I were going to suffocate and see Flicker again that way – but I hadn’t. Apparently Heaven’s awesome might extended to enabling mortal fish to swim through and breathe air.

Now, if I could just figure out how to unlatch my cage door….

“Your Majesty, we should review Your schedule for this evening and tomorrow.” Nagi slithered over the carpet, looking ill at ease. She started to coil up on a chair, then winced when her scales snagged the cushion’s silk embroidery. Holding herself absolutely still, she rattled off the events planned for the welcome banquet tonight (speeches, performances, and more speeches), and the keynote speaker and sessions for the conference tomorrow.

The dragon barely heard her. He was moping, staring moodily out the window into a tiny side garden. Its pocket-sized pond was overgrown with lotus leaves, but none of the buds had opened yet. It was too early in the year for lotus blossoms, even up here in Heaven. Perhaps especially up here in Heaven, with all its rules and regulations. I’d bet even the plants followed a rigid timetable.

“I wonder how the rolling droughts will affect us,” muttered the dragon. “We got assigned decent rainfall last year…but that probably means we’re due for a drought this year.”

Rolling droughts?

Nagi bobbed her head, making sure not to move any part of her body in contact with the cushion. “That’s why You must speak to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea!” she exhorted him. “Make him remember us so he’ll advocate for us!”

At the mention of his liege lord, the dragon slunk down in his chair, his scales leaving scratches across the varnish. Nagi cringed.

“I suppose I should,” he agreed, sounding unhappy. “He wasn’t impressed by the pearls we brought, though.”

The first part of this conference had involved traveling to the crystal palace at the bottom of the sea, where all the minor dragons congregated to pay homage to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea before following him up to Heaven. Lounging on his coral throne, he’d barely glanced at the pouch of slightly-larger-than-seed pearls that my dragon had presented.

Remembering the same thing, Nagi went silent for a moment. Then her eyes slid in my direction.

“No!” My dragon shot upright. “I’m not giving him Mooncloud! We talked about this.”

“Indeed we did,” she agreed, looking as if the two had come away from that discussion with very different conclusions. “It may be our only chance of winning his favor.”

The dragon shook his head, his greasy mane flapping against his snout. He blew a strand out of his eyes. “No,” he repeated. “Absolutely not. He has too many pets. He’d never treasure her the way we do.”

Nagi’s tongue flicked a couple times, but she dropped the topic.

I went back to studying the latch on my cage.

Although the dragon would have loved to sneak me into the welcome banquet, etiquette (and Nagi) prevailed, and he left me in our suite along with strict instructions to the crabs to “take as good care of her as We Ourselves would.” Given that they were the ones who fed me and cleaned my cage every day, I wasn’t sure how much weight that injunction carried. At any rate, they were too busy dangling out the window to gawk at the pond. Unobserved, I stuck a fin out of my cage and niggled at the latch until it clicked open. Success!

With a glance at the crabs’ backs, I edged the door open, glided out, nudged the door shut, and dove under a chair. Annoyingly, all the furniture here was rosewood carved with open latticework – attractive, yes, luxurious, yes, but not great for hiding. Hovering just beneath the seat, I peeked around a chair leg and waited for someone to open the hallway door. Eventually, a crab noticed that I was missing, and all of them panicked. Three started clambering up side tables and searching vases, while three more scuttled into the hallway to question the imps. While the crabs were hauling one another up a particularly tall vase, I darted out from under my chair, ducked around a potted plant, slipped behind a screen, and shot out the door.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Part One of Operation Find Flicker was proceeding smoothly. Now for Part Two: locating the Hall of Vermilion Clouds. Was it too much to hope that the conference organizers had set up a directory?

Down the hall I swam, hugging the walls to blend into the shadows. At last, an advantage to being an ugly, dull-grey catfish: None of the star sprites or imps noticed me as they scurried around, finishing up last-minute preparations for tomorrow morning’s opening ceremony.

But as I slunk into the atrium, a clerk glanced in my direction. “Excuse me,” she called, “may I help you?”

Caught before I could even get out of the building! I froze, scrambling for excuses. I’d tell her I was a servant – I’d tell her that my dragon king had sent me for – for –

Before I could figure out what a dragon might send a fish to fetch, she strode right past me and bowed to a pair of brownish-grey dragons with pale yellow bellies. They were no bigger than rice paddy snakes and had the same coloration.

“How may I be of assistance to Your Highnesses?” asked the clerk.

One of the little dragons stood up on his hind legs and stretched to his full two feet. Arching his neck the way Nagi liked to, he showed off the seed pearl at his throat. “We are the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond,” he announced in a thin, piping voice.

“And We are the Dragon King of Sweet Lily Pond,” proclaimed the other.

Bowing again, the clerk amended, “My apologies. How may I be of assistance to Your Majesties?”

“We are looking for the Welcome Banquet,” Caltrop Pond said, thrusting out his chest.

“We understand that it is to be held in this building,” added Sweet Lily Pond.

The clerk smiled, gently. “The banquet is currently going on in the Main Hall,” she answered, to the dragons’ dismay. Stepping aside, she gestured at the staircase. “It is down these stairs and to your right. I don’t believe it has been going on for very long, so if you hurry, you can still find seats.”

Still find seats? What happened to the seating chart?

The two little dragons held a whispered conference, at the end of which Caltrop Pond lifted his chin and pronounced, “We thank you for your assistance.” Then they hurried across the atrium, at a pace that was not quite a run but was definitely too fast for dignity.

Still smiling, the clerk returned to her colleagues.

“Nice to see they’re growing,” one commented.

“Did you notice that Sweet Lily Pond’s horns are starting to branch at the tips?” asked another.

“Will they really get as big as the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas?” chirped a star child who’d just trotted out of the servants’ stairwell.

The older clerks all shook their heads. “No,” said the first. “They’re pond dragons. Their growth is limited by the size of their ponds.”

“Oooh. Poor things.”

“Never let a dragon hear you say that,” snapped a familiar voice. Out of the stairwell stomped Flicker, glaring at the star child and then the other clerks for good measure. “Never insult a dragon’s pride.”

“Oh, hi, Flicker,” she greeted him, unfazed. “I have a message for you.” Rummaging around in her satchel, she handed him a scroll.

With a final scowl, he cracked the seal, skimmed its contents – and gulped. “She’s coming tonight? In person?”

The other clerks were crowding around him to read it for themselves.

“But that’s not in the schedule,” one protested.

“She’s not supposed to come until tomorrow.”

“We’re not ready yet.”

“Why didn’t her secretary tell us earlier?”

Flicker shook his head, looking resigned to their boss’ spontaneity. “She wants to reward us by coming in person to express her gratitude for our hard work.”

From the expressions on the clerks’ faces, far from acknowledging their efforts, she’d just created more stress and work for them. They started running around the atrium, straightening paintings, shoving paperwork, brushes, and inkstones behind screens, and shooing the messenger child back into the stairwell.

Before they could finish, a fresh, crisp scent like a mountain breeze wafted into the space. A pair of crane maidens danced in and positioned themselves on either side of the main staircase, their black waist skirts and crimson sashes floating around their filmy white gowns (ah, proper clothing at last!). At the sight, all the clerks dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the floor. Light footsteps tapped up the stairs, advancing in clear, regular pattern I recognized.

Oh dear.

I ducked behind a screen. A heartbeat later, the Star of Reflected Brightness entered the atrium.

Aurelia, Cassius’ ex-empress and ex-wife (at least, I assumed that having your spouse tortured to death was tantamount to divorcing her), looked much as she had in life. Wide mouth, broad cheeks, ebony eyes that were just a little too small and a tad too close to each other. Deification had smoothed her skin and added a faint, pearly glow, but she couldn’t begin to compare to the Goddess of Life. Then again, Cassius’ advisers hadn’t selected her for her looks, but for her pedigree, political connections, and ability to run the palace behind the scenes. (This was before my time, otherwise I’d have installed a decorative airhead.)

She turned her head deliberately, scanning the atrium and noting that it wasn’t fully set up yet. Her gaze settled on Flicker, prostrate in the first row of clerks. “Flicker. You may raise your head.”

Flicker obeyed at once, straightening his back until it looked like someone had shoved a walking stick down his spine.

“How are preparations for the conference proceeding?”

“They are proceeding smoothly, my lady.” He delivered a concise, precise summary in just the style she favored.

At the end, she smiled down at the backs of the clerks’ heads. “Thank you all for your hard work,” she told them in the practiced, warm voice she’d used for addressing palace servants. “I know that you have been assigned conference management on top of your regular duties.”

For all their grumbling about her surprise visit, the clerks glowed with pride, filling the atrium with golden light.

“Please keep up your hard work.”

And, with a nod that only Flicker could see, she turned and disappeared down the stairs, the crane maidens gliding behind her.

Once their breeze had died away, the clerks leaped to their feet and attacked their work with enthusiasm, even though she hadn’t promised any rewards or even time off after the conference. Her thanks, it seemed, was sufficient inspiration.

She’d been like that in life, too. The devotion of her ladies-in-waiting and the palace staff, combined with the political influence of her relatives, meant that it had taken me ages to convince Cassius to move against her.

I couldn’t help but wonder how they were getting along in Heaven. After all, even if they lived at opposite ends of the Palace of the Hundred Stars – which was by no means guaranteed – they were still neighbors. And while Aurelia was a competent-enough leader, she was no saint. And Cassius was, well, Cassius.

Smirking, I waited until the clerks finished setting up and vanished into the servants’ stairwell. Flicker, who seemed to be in charge of operations here, was the last to leave. As he surveyed the atrium one last time, I swam out from behind my screen.

He glimpsed my form and started to frown. “May I help you – ”

I didn’t let him finish. Hey, Flicker! It’s me! I flapped a fin at him, the click-click-click bouncing off the walls.

His jaw dropped. “Piri?”