“So I got up early today.”
He grinned. Jing-mei grinned. I felt my ears go hot.
“So what’s your favor?” Jing-mei said.
I pulled the packet from my tunic and tossed it to her. “For Yún. Something I can’t trust to the post. But don’t hand it over for three more days.”
She accepted the packet gingerly. “What’s inside?”
“A love letter,” I growled. “Look, it’s important. That’s all I can say. Just promise to do exactly what I ask.”
Jing-mei glanced at Gan. “Well, okay.”
I stayed to share a cup of tea, no longer. It was hard to sit with my friends when we had so many secrets between us. Gan and Jing-mei had made those scary steps from flirts to something more serious. And Danzu . . . It was hard to say what Danzu was up to. Knowing Goat Boy, he had probably turned smuggler or worse. Whatever it was, I could see plain as a dumpling that this new game involved Jing-mei, and Gan didn’t like it.
Back home, I set to work, packing my new clothes and gear for the journey. The temple bells were ringing midnight before I finished.
Only then did I sit down and pull out a sheet of cheap paper from my desk.
Dear Yún. I’m sorry. I had to—
No, that wasn’t right. There wasn’t anything I could tell her, not unless I wanted Yún to come haring after me. (And I didn’t want that. Right? Right?)
Scowling, I crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the corner.
THE SKIES WERE still dark when I dragged myself from my lumpy bed. Breakfast consisted of leftover rice and a tin of salted fish from the pantry. Chen showed up to nag me about washing dishes and taking care of the cats’ morning feeding. After that, I scribbled another note for Yún, telling her about the griffin and asking her to feed and water the beast, along with the cats, until I got back.
Knowing she might not show up until much later, I set out a dish of beef kibble and whistled. “Beastie,” I called. “Here, beastie, beastie—”
It’s not here.
Chen appeared as a semi-visible apparition, in the darkest corner of the kitchen.
How do you know? I asked. Have you seen it?
Not since you scared it yesterday.
I winced at the memory. Probably for the best.
I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder. Checked the knives in my boots and belt and at my wrists. Locked the doors and set the alarm. A few of Old Man Kang’s chickens clucked at me as I left the courtyard and set off through the gray-lit city. The air felt damp and cool; the paved streets were slick beneath my feet. I breathed in the scents of wood smoke and stale garbage. A few wisps of fog swirled through the alleyways. Ghosts or demons? The spawn of watch-dragons?
By the time I reached the main gates, the sun had jumped above the horizon. I took my place in line among the traders, freight wagons, and others waiting to depart. As the gates swung open, I glanced over my shoulder at the city leaping up the mountain in a gold and gray jumble of towers, walls, and winding stairs. This was the first time I’d left Lóng City—truly left it—and my heart was dancing to a strange fast rhythm. An old man, a trapper from his looks, prodded my back with his staff. I hurried through the gates and onto the open highway.
At the first fork of highways, I took the smaller branch leading south. An hour later, I came to the first of the monster suspension bridges hanging between Lóng City’s mountain and its neighbor. I glanced back and took in the great green and gray expanse of the mountain, the dark sprawl of Lóng City itself. For a moment, I thought I saw the outline of a great translucent dragon hovering above the mountainside.
I turned back to the bridge and the road. That’s when it started to rain.
5
THE FIRST TWO OR THREE DAYS ON THE ROAD weren’t so bad. The winds were still warm and mild, and the rain showers were more like a dog shaking water from its coat than a real storm. Now and then, the sun poked through, making the wet grass glitter and shine.
But as the drizzle turned into real rain, the crowds of travelers thinned, then disappeared. I trudged on, alone except for a set of blisters and Chen’s occasional rude comment. Every once in a while, I passed a clump of miserable goats. Once a shape-changer galloped past, making my heart jump into my throat. Luckily, watch-demons didn’t live outside cities, and the bigger monsters kept to their tunnels and caverns. In the wild parts of the mountains, though, I expected to come across stranger, more dangerous creatures. Maybe even a wild ghost dragon.
Right now, all I cared about was the mud and rain. Rain dripped into my eyes. Rain trickled between my collar and hat, running down my back. It rained so much my special wet-proof clothes gave up and soaked up the water, making my pack ten times heavier. And every step was like a battle, as I yanked one foot free of the mud and staggered sideways, regained my footing, then struggled to work the other foot free.
Squelch. Squoosh. Splat.
Danzu would love all this mud, I thought sourly, as I slithered down a particularly steep section. It was my tenth day on the road. Stupid Goat Boy. Stupid . . .