“If everyone would please quiet down, His Majesty has an announcement to make. If everyone would please quiet down, His Majesty has an announcement to make.”

I could barely make out the crab servant’s clackety voice above the hubbub. For New Year’s Eve, a bigger crowd of partyers had showed up at Caltrop Pond than usual, bringing a lot more alcohol than usual – and believe me, everyone there knew what to do with it! Although I’d shown up expecting another sorry “banquet” like the one on the Eighth, the dance floor was still a dance floor, and the musicians were playing cheery tunes onstage. About half the guests were dancing while the rest drank, chatted, shouted greetings to newcomers, and speculated on the program for the evening.

The poor crab scuttled side-to-side in front of the stage, waved his pincers to stop the musicians, and made another valiant effort to get our attention. “If everyone would please quiet down, His Majesty has an announcement to make – ”

“SHUT UP EVERYBODY!” bellowed His Most Dignified Majesty.

That worked.

The room went silent, leaving only Bobo to shrill at her normal volume, “And then ssshe sssaid – ”

“Shut up!” hissed the people around us. “His Majesty’s making an announcement!”

Mortified, Bobo snapped her jaws shut and curled into a ball, while I cringed into my shell. Stripey looked entirely unconcerned.

With a glare in our direction, the Dragon King declared, “Listen up, y’all! We’re invited to Black Sand Creek for dinner! So we’re gonna head over right now, eat until our bellies explode, and then come back. For. Some. DANCING!”

The room erupted into whoops and chanting. “Din-ner. Din-NER. DIN-NER!”

Forgetting her embarrassment, Bobo bounced up. “Ooh! I remember going to Black Sssand Creek! When was it – the year before lassst? Ssstripey, d’you remember?”

The duck demon cocked his head to a side. “Longer, I think. It was the year the drought broke. They invited us over to celebrate.”

“Ooh! Yeah! I remember now! It was the year the mage came!”

As for me, I’d barely heard anything after the Dragon King uttered those fatal words: “Black Sand Creek.”

I couldn’t go.

Drunk or not, the Caltrop Pond spirits must have figured out by now that I wasn’t a real spirit, but such was the nature of this group that no one cared. As long as I could keep up with their partying, I could be the Jade Emperor Himself and no one would bat an eye.

Well, apart from asking, “Hey, how’s the booze in Heaven?”

The Black Sand Creek spirits, on the other hand…. The Black Sand Creek spirits were uptight and persnickety and convinced of their own undemonstrated superiority. They’d realize I wasn’t a spirit and goggle until Nagi noticed. One look at me, and she’d be badgering Yulus to demand that the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond hand me over so she could send me off to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea for vivisection.

Once upon a time, that had been an attractive option. But not anymore.

A scaley coil nudged me, jolting me from my thoughts. “Hey, Rosssie, you’re from Black Sssand Creek, right?”

Mmm, I answered, confirming it in the vaguest way possible.

Most unfortunately, I’d been born on the banks of Black Sand Creek, which meant that Yulus wouldn’t even have to demand that the lower-ranked dragon hand me over. I already belonged to him.

“This is ssso ex-sssiting! You can ssshow us around your home!”

I pulled myself together enough to joke, Weeell, I would think Stripey would be better at that.

“True,” replied the bandit with fake soberness. “I can give you a tour of the pearl farm, if you wish.”

“The pearl farm???” Bobo’s eyes lit up.

“EVERYBODY SET?” roared the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond. Without waiting for the answering cheers, he shouted, “Off we go!”

As the spirits trooped after him (with varying degrees of enthusiasm depending on how much they loved food versus hated court etiquette), Bobo kept up a steady stream of questions. “What’s the pearl farm look like? Is it like a wheat field? Oh no, but it’s underwater, so maybe it’s more like a rissse paddy?”

Hanging back, I let several people come between us, then several more. If I kept to the fringes of the crowd, I could “fall behind,” hide, and then hang out here for a few hours until everyone returned for the dancing.

I was about to vanish into the feathery caltrop stems when Bobo realized I was missing. “Hey, where’s Rosssie?” She contorted her top half into a knot so she could look for me and swim forward at the same time.

Stripey glanced back too, in a much more perfunctory manner. “She’ll catch up.”

His tone irked me, although not enough to spite him by actually catching up.

But it didn’t matter, because Bobo didn’t give either of us a choice. Breaking off from the main column, she swam back, calling, “Rosssie! Rosssie! Where are you?”

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A couple other stragglers joined in the search, poking their heads around rocks and through the curtain of stems. “Rosie! Rosie! Where are you?”

A frog glimpsed my shell out of the corner of his eye. With a kick of his hind legs, he whooshed over. “There she is! Didja get tired already? C’mon!” Holding one of my front feet, he tugged me over to Bobo and Stripey. “Found her!”

“I got worried we lossst you!” cried Bobo, while Stripey and I struggled to maintain neutral expressions. “C’mon! It’s gonna be fun! The Water Court of Black Sssand Creek is ssso big and fan-sssy, and they always ssserve the mossst amazing food….”

I let her ramble on while I ran through the geography of the river in my head. Where could I lose her? What was the best hiding spot? Or should I summon Flicker and have him claim that he was escorting me to the New Year’s Eve banquet in Heaven?

Stripey’s sharp voice cut through her chatter and my thoughts. “Hey, Bobo, mind if I talk to Rosie about something?”

She gave a start. “Oh! Yes, of courssse. I – uh, I’ll jussst go ahead?”

“It won’t be long,” he promised. “We’ll catch right up.”

“Okie!”

On the muddy ground around the pond, Stripey and I slowed even more to let the last stragglers pass. While we waited for them to move out of earshot, I calculated what he wanted. He knew that I wasn’t a spirit, of course. Had he figured out that I worked for Heaven? Had Bobo let it slip? The bandit was going to blackmail me, wasn’t he?

Well, if he tried, I was going to summon Flicker and have him play god. The clerk could swear the duck demon to secrecy. I’d intended to bring Stripey into Aurelia’s conspiracy eventually anyway –

“I don’t like how you treat Bobo.”

Wait, what did he just say? I beg your pardon?

Planting his webbed feet, the duck glared at me. “I said, I don’t like how you treat Bobo.”

That was…not the opening I’d expected. I let my bewilderment show. I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean…?

“You know exactly what I mean. You don’t see her as a friend. You don’t appreciate her. You don’t even like her. In fact, you look down on her. The only reason you hang out with her is that she gives you the alcohol you need to offer to the Dragon King so you can keep attending his parties. That stops now.”

Well, given that the bamboo viper had gotten fired by her ale-brewing employer, it kind of would stop now, whether we wanted it to or not.

The old Piri – the better Piri, the Piri whose skills hadn’t been eroded by centuries in dumb, ugly White- and Green-Tier bodies – would have known exactly what to do here. She’d have known exactly what to say to disarm Stripey. That Piri might have tossed her head to make her hair ornaments tinkle, or wrapped a tail around him to pull him close, before she whispered something that was clever and charming and utterly devastating. And afterwards, he’d totter off wondering how he could possibly have misinterpreted her actions so badly and agonizing over ways to apologize.

I groped for the words that would twist Stripey to my side, convince him that I was a true friend to Bobo, that I was just a well-meaning, if occasionally flawed, mortal turtle. But I couldn’t push past the morass in my head to find them.

I sighed, feeling very weary. You’re right.

The duck rocked back on his webbed feet, stunned that I’d actually admitted it.

I hid a smile. Maybe I still knew how to weaponize honesty. Bobo isn’t the type of person I’m used to interacting with. She’s so incredibly – ditzy and dense that she couldn’t tell someone was using her if they bit her in the tail – naïve and earnest.

“That she is,” Stripey agreed, less hostile now that he believed I’d complimented his friend. “She’s good-natured and goodhearted. Which is why I can’t let you take advantage of her.”

Hanging my head, I fed him a little more honesty. I know. I know. And she’s lucky to have someone like you looking out for her. It’s just that – I made a show of scanning our surroundings for eavesdroppers, before continuing in a hushed tone, I come from a very different world, Stripey.

The duck didn’t have eyebrows, but if he did, he’d have raised them.

My world – it’s not like this one at all. It’s very…political. No one does anything for anyone else unless it serves them, now or down the line. There’s no such thing as true friendship. Just alliances. Temporary alliances, until politics changes.

How I missed the world of Cassius’ court! How I missed dancing through it, toying with it, testing how far I could push its denizens before they broke or betrayed me! Cassius’ courtiers were the opposites of these modern-day Sericans, who said what they meant and meant what they said and were just so ploddingly predictable. For Heaven’s sake, the most exciting part of my day here was guessing what would trigger Taila’s next rampage!

But at my words, Stripey’s eyes softened, and he bobbed his neck a couple times. “I see. I see. Yes, I can see how it might be difficult for you to accept Bobo’s friendship for what it is.”

Well, strictly speaking, that wasn’t true. I accepted her friendship for precisely what it was: slavish, one-sided hero worship. But I murmured, Yes. I haven’t been fair to her. Then I lifted my chin and met his eyes. I have been trying to figure out what to do about her employment situation. I know Mistress Shay fired her without any explanations –

“Oh, I can tell you why Mistress Shay fired her,” Stripey snapped, losing his temper again. “It’s because Bobo refused to stop working for Mistress Jek.”

I – what? That doesn’t make any sense!

“Doesn’t it?” The duck stared at me, challenging me to confess that I did know why.

Which I did. Of course I did.

Eyes pressed shut, I heaved a long, resigned sigh. She’s jealous of the Jeks, isn’t she?

The duck’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Jealous? You think Mistress Shay is jealous of the Jeks? Stars and demons, you really have no idea what you’ve done, do you!”

Uh, educated the Jeks? Set them above their neighbors?

But even if I’d wanted to improve every peasant in this godsforsaken barony – which I didn’t – I’d have had to start somewhere! I couldn’t teach everyone all at once. As Master and Mistress Jek had pointed out ad nauseam, there was plowing to be done. There was always plowing to be done.

“Everybody thinks the Jeks have gone mad! They’re like – like – the town drunks! Or lepers! No one wants anything to do with them!”

What? I cried. But why?

“Why do you think! Just listen to how they talk! Do you think normal people talk that way? Everybody thinks they’re either crazy or possessed! We’re all waiting to see what the Baron decides to do! Nobody’s gonna touch a family that the Baron might imprison, evict, or execute for being a threat to the peace!”

A threat to the peace! I’ve been teaching them proper etiquette and grammar! Is the Baron jealous? Should I have taught him first?

Stripey threw up his wings. Feathers shook loose and flew around him. “What d’you mean, proper grammar! Nobody talks like that. Except nobles in plays! And not modern-day nobles, either – Empire nobles. The Jeks sound like they’re either pretending to be nobles or mocking them!”

No they don’t! That’s how people are supposed to talk! I can’t help it if everyone in this barony is wrong! You should be glad that there is one single family in this whole cursed barony who can talk without butchering the Serican language!

Stripey was so frustrated that he flapped a couple feet off the ground. “I can’t believe you – ”

“Actually,” interrupted a familiar voice, in an exhausted tone that was also very familiar, “language does shift over time.”

Stripey and I whirled.

Shimmering over the dark water of the pond was Flicker.