Fox and Phoenix (Lóng City 1)

“Nothing. I swear it. Ask the princess.”

Jing-mei drew a deep breath. Her expression reminded me of a watch-demon momentarily denied its prey. Except that watch demons had no faces, nor eyes that glittered with rage. She muttered something that sounded very much like “I’lltalktoyoulateryoumiserabletoad,” then turned to Lian. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

“The apologies are mine,” Lian said smoothly. “I ordered Danzu to convey me into Lóng City in the most discreet fashion he knew.”

“Smuggling,” I murmured.

Danzu and Yún glared at me. Quan shook his head. Only Jing-mei offered me a tight smile.

“I understand completely,” she said to Lian. “Come inside so we might discuss the matter. Let Danzu manage the horses and his shipment.”

She and Danzu exchanged angry smiles. Jing-mei apparently won, because Danzu shriveled inside his elegant cloak and turned back to the wagons and his crew.

Jing-mei smiled more sweetly (was this really the same bubble-headed girl from my gang?) and led us into a cavern of a room. She brushed her hand over a gray mesh panel by the door. With a hiss, light poured from shaded lamps overhead. I blinked at the sight of row upon row of crates, stacked almost to the ceiling. The air here was much warmer than I expected. Then I remembered Jing-mei scolding Danzu about delicate electronics. This was her warehouse for her special consignments. She kept the goods safe with magically warmed air.

She must be richer than I thought.

Not rich. Clever, Chen said quietly. There are magic flux wells underneath these warehouses. She’s tapping into them.

Was that legal? I wondered.

Lian too had obviously noticed. Her eyes narrowed at the pipes and vents, the flicker and twitch of magic flux currents. Normally, a person paid fees to the royal wizards for regular access to the magical flux within our kingdom. I’d seen the bills when I first explored my mother’s papers. The wizards might not care about one-time, sometimes, once-in-a-while access. This setup, however, was a lot more than once-in-a-while. Lian sent a questioning glance toward Jing-mei, who smiled nervously. Heh. Probably not legal. This could prove interesting.

At the opposite side of the warehouse, a winding staircase brought us up two flights to a small landing. Very plain, except for a complicated set of locks on one door. Jing-mei used a series of keys, then laid her palm against the latch. The lock clicked open, and she gestured for us to come inside.

It was the same apartment I remembered from two months ago, but with a few differences. A broad desk crowded the tiny back room, its surface covered with accounting books, a shiny new calculor in the middle. All the trinkets and gadgets had disappeared from the hallway and nearby rooms. She must have moved them into that enormous warehouse.

“Come with me to the kitchen,” Jing-mei said. “I can brew some tea. And we can talk.”

Jing-mei managed to seat us all around the table, but barely. Lian and Quan tucked themselves into a corner, closer than absolutely necessary. Yún hesitated, then did the same next to me. Yao-guài paced the tabletop, chittering with excitement and pleasure that we’d left the cold, dark wagons behind. I’d expected Jing-mei to chitter back, but she merely patted him on the head absent-mindedly in between whisking cups onto the table, setting a kettle of water to boil, and sending curious glances toward Lian and Quan.

“So who are you?” she asked Quan, as she measured tea from a canister into an elegant teapot.

“My

friend,” Lian said firmly. “We studied at the university together.”

“Our rescuer,” Yún said even more firmly.

I rolled my eyes, which brought a laugh from Jing-mei. “Very well. None of my business. But you came to me for help. Tell me everything that happened.”

Lian exchanged a glance with Quan. “Everything will take some time.”

“Better to arm your warriors, than to fall victim to excess caution,” he murmured.

She smiled. “Very true. Here is what you must know,” she said to Jing-mei.

She told Jing-mei about the Phoenix emperor’s plans to force her into marriage with his youngest son, and about the treaties the emperor used to drain other mountain kingdoms of their magic flux. How Quan arranged for our escape, how the emperor’s soldiers nearly captured us, and our unexpected rescue by Nuó.

By the time she finished, the water had boiled, and the tea had steeped.

“I suspect there are those who would prevent me from reuniting with my father and answering the Guild’s accusations,” Lian said at last.

“I believe you are right,” Jing-mei said as she poured tea for all of us. “It’s true the Guild fears you’ve deserted your responsibilities. I happen to think certain factions within the court are feeding those rumors for their own advancement. Which means you cannot simply announce yourself to any guard safely. Let me call someone who knows more about the palace security than I do....”

She plucked a silver disc from behind her ear, tapped it with her thumb, and spoke Gan’s name. Magic blossomed in the air. A pale circle of light appeared in front of Jing-mei’s face.

“Gan,” she said, “we need you here right away.”