Fox and Phoenix (Lóng City 1)

A narrow ledge ran alongside the stream. I held my nose and set off at a trot, watching where I set my feet.

Once, I hadn’t cared.

Once, I was a street rat.

Maybe not anymore.

On I jogged, my thoughts jumping between the old days and the new, how Jing-mei and Gan had changed, how Danzu hadn’t, how I had been sent to younger and younger guards, in smaller and smaller rooms, as though they were trying to wear me out, or maybe they were distracted by all the plots and schemes inside the palace. Lian had told me that every glance meant six or ten or even a hundred different things. There were probably a gajillion hints I’d missed during those tedious interviews....

A hiss, like a teakettle starting to boil, yanked me away from my thoughts. I stopped. My throat squeezed shut, as I remembered the last time I’d heard this same noise.

An enormous ghost dragon materialized in the tunnel. Its length coiled above and around and to either side, making the sewer walls appear wrapped in fog—a silvery fog patterned in scales, from the huge ones for belly and tail to thumb-size ones that lapped the dragon’s narrow snout.

It wasn’t just any ghost dragon. This was the king of ghost dragons, who ruled over his own subjects in a realm that existed alongside our human one of Lóng City. I had met him a year ago, when Lian and Yún and I were running from watch-demons and palace guards. He had granted me free passage throughout the Hundred Sewers, a rare favor, but seeing his great head a few feet from mine made my mouth paper dry.

“Your Majesty?” My voice came out in a whisper. I licked my lips and tried again. “Your Majesty?”

My friend is ill. He needs his daughter.

“Friend?” I croaked.

The ghost dragon’s eyes narrowed to slits as he regarded me coldly. Have you forgotten your king so quickly?

My skin crawled at his otherworldly voice. I opened my mouth, but my voice refused more than a squeak.

Still glaring at me with those cold silvery eyes, the king ghost dragon uncurled one forepaw, pad upward. A seemingly innocuous gesture, but the ghost dragon’s claws were longer than any executioner’s sword. In terror, I flinched and started to babble like an idiot. “No, sir. Your Majesty. I haven’t—I didn’t—”

The ghost dragon huffed, cutting off my gibbering in a second. See your king.

He spoke a word in some strange harsh language. A strong metallic smell filled the air, and a bubble of light gathered between those terrible claws.

Still terrified, but curious now, I bent closer. Specks whirled over the bubble’s surface. Gradually, it cleared, showing an image inside. Small figures darted about—palace servants in their liveries, the royal physicians and their attendants—everyone hurried in and out and around a richly appointed chamber. Everyone, that is, except one thin old man, who lay in the center of a vast bed. His hands rested limply on his chest, which rose and fell in slow shallow breaths. His eyes were like bruised plums in a pale sweating face.

My friend is dying, the ghost dragon whispered. The image faded. He folded his claws into a fist and breathed out a rattling sigh.

“Can you save him with magic?” I asked. Any ghost dragon could work magic, and surely, the king of them all—

I have tried. I cannot. There is a blank, a void, where the sickness eats at him.

The anguish in his voice made my chest ache in sympathy. “I’m sorry. I wish I could—”

He brushed away my concern with a gesture. You must go to Phoenix City. You must find Princess Lian and tell her of her father’s illness.

“Me?” I squeaked.

He nodded. You. The king is my friend, the princess is yours. You are the only one I can trust. Even the best of the king’s ministers are taken up with plots and their own security. You must go. Find out what is wrong.

I gulped, tried not to think about the ghost dragon’s deadly whiskers, his terrible claws, his breath that could poison any human with excess magic, or so the legends claimed. “I can’t go,” I said. Then louder, “I’m sorry, I can’t. Not with Ma mi missing.”

Another faint wheezing, as though the dragon were laughing at my plight. He set both front paws upon the ground and leaned closer. Though it made me go stiff with terror, I did not flinch back.

You are stubborn, he observed, still wheezing. Like your friend the princess.

True enough, though I privately thought that Lian could win any contest if it came to stubbornness. Her and Yún.

The ghost dragon nodded, his whiskers swaying in counterpoint with his great head. I shall look after your ma mi. I promise. Now go. Find the princess. Return as quickly as you may, if not sooner.

Whenever had a ghost dragon needed a human’s aid? I wondered, gazing upward into those luminescent eyes. Especially the king of ghost dragons? I nearly asked him that same question, then snapped my mouth shut. Lian was my friend. Besides, you didn’t argue with ghost dragons, however large or small.