Fox and Phoenix (Lóng City 1)

I bowed low before him. “I will leave tomorrow, Your Majesty.”

4

EXCEPT I DIDN’T.

Oh, sure, the ghost dragon king had promised to look after Ma mi, but he never said anything about her tutoring shop. I didn’t want to travel nine hundred li and back, just to have Ma mi feed me to the watch-dragons because I let her shop go to ruin—or to the tax collectors which, according to her, was the same thing.

I crouched in front of my mother’s safe, where she kept her most important papers. Chen hovered off to one side, like a massive brown shadow. The griffin perched on the counter above my head, watching with a curious expression on its narrow, feathered face.

Are you sure this is a good idea? Chen asked.

Of course not. What a stupid question.

I squinted at the combination lock, then double-checked my conjuration workbook. If only I had taken Chen’s advice and practiced my handwriting, this would be easier. Maybe.

After another double-check, I recited the simplest open-me spell on the page. Right away the air fizzed with magic flux. The room turned dark and ugly yellow lines squirmed over the safe. From behind me came the sound of someone chuckling to himself.

Chen . . .

Chen snorted. Not my fault. That was your mother’s protection spell.

Right. I could believe that. I checked the next entry on the page. Another simple spell, one I’d learned on my own before I turned ten. Not one I expected my mother to use, but you could never tell. She always taught us the trickiest magic was the easiest to guess.

Two syllables into the spell, my ears popped and a thousand invisible fire ants swarmed over me, biting and nipping and stinging. I yelped and beat my clothes. The griffin screeched and vanished. Somewhere, an invisible Chen wheezed with laughter. I wanted to beat him, too, but I was too busy with the cursed ants.

The swarm vanished. I fell to my knees, like a string puppet dropped by its master.

Chen nosed me with his giant snout. I swatted at him, still angry. I’m fine. Go away.

She knows good magic, your ma mi. Do you want my help?

I eyed the safe and shuddered. I think we’d better check the other papers first.

There were a lot of them—lists of students, special tutoring schedules, lecture notes for her more advanced students, including Yún and me. (Wait, I was advanced?) Most important of all, a scribbled list of expected expenses for the next quarter. As I read through that last one, my eyebrows climbed up into my hair. I’d had no idea there were so many fees required by Lóng City’s bureaucrats. Taxes, garbage collection and composting fees, sewage fees, teaching license renewal, import fees, something called a magic containment surcharge, the usual monthly bill for magic flux . . .

I wrote down a few sums, got the items mixed up, started over, then lost track of what I’d been looking at. I was about to cram all the papers back in their slots, when I felt a gentle nudge at my shoulder, a whisper of warm piggy breath at my ear.

We can do this together, Chen said softly.

He materialized next to me, once more wearing those foolish spectacles, with a brush tucked in the crook of one foreleg. I wanted to laugh, but my head hurt too much. Do what? I asked. Catalog a mountain?

His bristles quivered with amusement. Something like that. Here, you take a look at each of these papers. Tell me what kind they are. Then you put it in a pile. One for each kind. After that we can decide what comes next.

We settled down to a good routine. I’d read a few columns from each scroll. Chen recorded what kind of thing it was. Then we’d argue which pile it belonged in. We’d sorted half the papers, including all the taxes and fees, and were thinking of taking a break for tea, when the front door opened and Yún walked inside.

Chen winked from sight. I swept my notes and list under a pile of scrolls.

“Good morning,” I croaked.

Yún shook droplets of early-morning rain from her hair, scanned the shop. “Good morning, Kai. Where is your mother?”

“Out and about,” I said airily.

Her gaze traveled down to my hands, lying atop the messy pile of scrolls. “What about our classes?”

“We don’t have any today. Ma mi’s orders.”

Yún’s eyes narrowed. “Two days in a row? What about the supplies she bought yesterday?”