Fox and Phoenix (Lóng City 1)

We didn’t have enough money for the tram, so we set off on foot. Our trip across the city took five long miserable hours. Sure, the magical map was clever and handy. More than once, the ink lines blinked at us if we took a wrong turn. But it couldn’t conjure us from point A to point B in two sneezes. We trudged through the crowded streets, while the sun blazed down on our backs. Electric trams glided past. Bicycles clanged bells in warning as their riders wove in and around slow-moving pedestrians. Once a parade of monks strode by, clanging cymbals and bells, and waving bundles of burning incense. I saw a few carts drawn by mules or ponies. I saw a lot more carts drawn by people. One stopped next to us. “Want a ride?” the man said. He was a massive man with thick arms and legs. Sweat gleamed from his face, as though he’d been working hard all day.

“How much?” Yún said.

The man glanced at our paper and named a price so high, I squeaked.

Yún shook her head. The man spat on the ground and lumbered on.

The sun was slanting down toward the rooftops by the time we reached a pair of iron gates set into square stone pillars. Tall buildings built from smooth golden stonework loomed over the gate. Inside, dozens of young men and women dressed in scruffy trousers and tunics hurried back and forth with books under their arms. When we checked our map, the arrow vanished and we read the words, Destination Reached. Then the sheet went blank on both sides.

We tried the gates, but they proved to be locked. I called out to a student inside. He only stared at me and kept going.

“Maybe we need to summon her,” Yún said.

She pointed to the stone pillar on our right. It had a small metal plaque pierced by dozens of holes, just like the speakers in the train’s vid-screen.

I coughed and cleared my throat.

“Identity, please,” said a man’s gruff voice.

“My name is Kai Zou and I—”

“Identity, please,” the voice repeated.

Yún motioned for me to let her try. “We are here to see Princess Lian Song Li.”

The metal speaker clicked and buzzed a few moments. Then, “Invalid response. You have one more attempt. Thank you.”

One more attempt? I opened my mouth to give my name, when Yún dragged me away. “What’s wrong?” I hissed.

“I’m not sure, but I think if we make too many mistakes, they’ll send the watch after us.”

“But we have to find Lian.”

“I know. But we can’t find her if they arrest us.”

I scowled. Inside my shirt, the griffin was poking me with his claws, clearly upset by our argument. I rubbed its head and tried to think. We had money—some—but no rooms. And the sun was setting. It occurred to me that we hadn’t needed to think about watch-demons since Lóng City. Who knew what kind of horrible patrols the emperor of the Phoenix Empire loosed to guard the streets of his capitol?

Chen? I whispered, wondering if my spirit companion had returned.

No reply.

All of a sudden, the gates swung open and a crowd of students streamed out. Most of these were scruffy, too, but a few were dressed in elegant silks or woolen tunics and trousers, some of them with magic flux woven into the threads. One of them glanced at us, then whispered something to the girl next to him. They laughed.

“Excuse me,” Yún said. “Excuse me, could you tell us where—”

“Beggars’ Quarter is three districts over,” the first student said.

My hand curled into a fist. Yún gripped my arm and yanked me behind her. “We’re looking for Princess Lian Song Li,” she said to the student. “Could you please help us find her?”

He stared at her. His mouth twitched in amusement. Yún stared back. His glance slid away. “Come on,” he said to his friends. “Let’s get away from these slugs before we get slime on ourselves.”

He and the girl minced away. Most of his companions followed, with only a few curious glances in our direction, but one young man remained behind. “You go on,” he said to the others. “I’ll walk home tonight.”

The crowd drifted off. Our new friend (if you could call him that) studied us silently. I could tell he wasn’t impressed. We were scruffier than the scruffiest students, our clothes dusty and stained from camping in the mountains, and if we’d taken three baths each in that fancy wind-and-magic train, you sure couldn’t tell now.

“You’re looking for Princess Lian from Lóng City,” he said finally. “Why?”

“Why should you care?” I said.