To Cassius, with love from Piri
The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox
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Chapter 8: Catfish, Still
Chapter 8: Catfish, Still
My next life as a catfish, I swam until I passed a dark, curved object that my Piri-self recognized as a roof tile. Then I split off from my siblings, staked out that stretch of river as my territory, and measured myself every day. It took a few years, but when I reached one tile in length, I swam off in search of a fishing boat.
This time, Flicker informed me with some asperity, I did indeed grow big enough to provide sufficient monetary value to the fisherman who caught me, and nutritional value to the family that ate me. However – "Piri, you're defeating the point of the karma system. You're not supposed to gain positive karma unless you become a better person!"
I debated arguing that I was becoming a better person – but only for a second. Are you going to report me? I asked instead.
He hesitated for so long that I was about to start panicking when he answered, "No" in a defeated voice. He exhaled and his shoulders slumped. "No, I'm not."
I really appreciate that –
"It's not for your sake, Piri!" he burst out. "It's because there's no point! Yes, I could spend hours filling out paperwork to report that a soul is transgressing the rules, and then spend weeks filling out supplemental paperwork to document my observations, and responding to inquiries from my superiors as aforementioned paperwork makes its way up through the hierarchy…but I already know that in the end, Glitter will conclude that you haven't actually broken any rules and hence can't be punished – but by then she'll have wasted so many departmental resources on this investigation that she'll have to punish someone – and that someone will be me!" He broke off, breathing hard.
His skin flared and dimmed with his breathing rhythm, I noticed. Must be something star sprites did when they got upset. I gave him a moment to return to a steady glow.
Who's Glitter? Have I met her?
Dropping his head into his hands, he muttered something that sounded like "Self-centered as ever" before replying curtly, "Superintendent of Reincarnation. The one who oversees day-to-day operations here."
Oh.
"And you have met her. She was at the front desk in the audience chamber."
Her?! Her name was Glitter???
I remembered that doorwoman clerk – mostly because she'd been the one who revealed Flicker's name – and a less glittery personality I could not imagine. She'd been withered and white-haired, with thin lips and pinched cheeks and fierce eyes, the exact opposite of the Goddess of Life. But the clerks around Glitter had treated her like a queen. In fact, Flicker had addressed her as "honored one," while he saluted gods with a less-exalted-sounding "my lord" or "my lady." Honestly, I was surprised the gods weren't offended.
Most likely because they hadn't noticed yet.
Oh yeah, that reminds me. Your name is Flicker, hers is Glitter, and that clerk in the stairwell was Wink. How are star sprites named anyway?
"How are we named?" Flicker stared at me blankly, as if the question had never occurred to him. "We're not. We…just come into existence knowing our names. How do you know yours?"
Fair enough. Fox spirits all had elegant, poetic names, in keeping with our elegant, poetic natures. When I'd first awakened as a fox, even before I'd learned how to transform into a human, I'd done so with the full knowledge that I was Piri. Flos Piri, or Pear Blossom, to be precise, in reference to the image of a delicate, weeping maiden whose tears resembled the raindrops on the petals of a pure white pear blossom.
I would admit, it didn't exactly fit my personality. But it did conjure up all sorts of fantasies that I aspired to fulfill, which was the point.
Maybe star sprites were born cheerful, twinkling characters. Paperwork could, after all, crush the playfulness out of anyone.
Just look at Marcius.
Hey, how's Marcius anyway? What kind of animal did he reincarnate as? What's he up to on Earth?
I'd already seen the "Green" stamp on my document, so I knew that I'd reincarnate as an aquatic creature again. If Marcius happened to live near water, I could make my way to his river or lake and spy, er, check on him. Just to see how he was doing, of course. And maybe to mess with him. Messing with him would be entertaining. And free – since he wasn't human.
"Oh, no no no. I can't tell you that. That is absolutely forbidden."
But what if I run into him? I coaxed. I won't even know it's him.
"That's the reason we suppress your memories before reincarnation. So you can start fresh on Earth without all the baggage from your previous lives."
Oh. Since Flicker seemed determined to stick to this rule, I turned to a more immediate concern. Soooo, what am I going to be this time?
In answer, he slapped my file shut to show me the rune for "catfish" on the front.
Agaaaaain? I put a whine into my tone for Glitter's benefit, in case she monitored her underlings. She'd looked like the type who kept her beady eyes on everyone all the time so she could maintain constant control over her domain. Fliiiicker, why do you keep assigning me as a catfish?
He bought the pretense. "As I have told you over and over, I do not make decisions as to the details of reincarnation. I merely carry it out. You'd have to ask Glitter how she assigns souls – and I do not recommend doing that."
Okaaaaay, fiiiiine.
He studied me for a long moment, opened his mouth, and then shut it again, rather like a fish. I waited for him to ask if I were positive I didn't want to use the Tea of Forgetfulness this time, but all he said was, "Are you ready?"
Yep. Hit me.
And he did.
My third life as a catfish, I swam downstream as far as I could, mapping the riverbed and identifying the types of water spirits here. I saw catfish and loaches, gobies and mussels, softshell turtles and crabs, water snakes and shrimp, all of whom answered to the local dragon king.
Steering clear of them, I followed a school of silvery baby salmon who were migrating to the sea. They were so tiny and weak that they hid during the day and only came out at night, when they'd point their tails downstream and let the currents carry them along. At first, they eyeballed me warily and darted away if I got too close, but after a week, they grew used to my broad, dark form. The bolder ones even flashed forward to nibble my whiskers. They were pretty cute, I had to confess.
Even if I did occasionally get an urge to eat one.
My fish brain kept calling them food, while my Piri-self was curious about how a catfish's perception of flavor differed from a human's. Salmon had been served in the palace, after all. And I'd eaten it as a fox.
However, if I attacked even one baby salmon, the rest would never trust me again. So I amused myself by playing tag with them and refrained from eating any kind of fish in front of them, just in case. For the duration of our trip, I fed on insects, water snails, and plants, noting the change in species as the fresh river water gradually turned brackish. Eventually it grew too salty for me, and I waved a flipper at the baby salmon as they vanished into the sea.
See you next year, I called, even though they couldn't understand me.
Then I swam back upstream towards that roof tile.
"That was an encouraging life," Flicker praised the next time I saw him. For some reason, his lips were twitching towards an attempt at a smile. "You showed flashes of altruism, Piri."
I did?
I hadn't thought that leaping into a fishing net so I could gain karma so I could advance to a higher Tier counted as altruism, but hey, if that were how the Bureau of Reincarnation defined it, I wasn't going to argue.
I mean, of course I did! The cycle of reincarnation is helping me become a better person, just as it was designed to! I'm learning to view my past lives through fresh eyes – literally; one fresh set per life – and I am so, so ashamed of the person I used to be –
Flicker was groaning and massaging his temples again. "No need to lay it on so thick," he muttered. His eyes flicked towards a grate on the wall. His hands, I noted, hid his lips from anyone who might be spying through it.
At the image of Cassius hunched over on the other side with his ear pressed to the metal, I let out a happy chime.
Rearranging his face into sober lines, Flicker straightened. "I was referring to those salmon fry, Piri. You could have grown faster by eating them. Instead, you chose to shepherd them to the sea. I was…pleasantly surprised."
I, on the other hand, was appalled.
Of course I could have grown faster from devouring those baby salmon than from scrounging for bugs and plants on the river bottom. So why hadn't I done it? The reincarnation cycle wasn't erasing my personality, was it?
Did I get extra karma for it? I blurted out before remembering that a truly altruistic person wouldn't have asked that. Probably wouldn't even have dreamed of asking that.
Good. That meant I was still me.
"A token amount, for the extremely circuitously indirect benefit to humankind. Less than what you earned as an oyster for ecosystem engineering, I'm afraid. But don't focus on that," Flicker urged. "Focus on the sense of satisfaction you feel when you help others."
Mmmm, yes. I feel very satisfied when I help others. So how much did I help others by turning into their dinner this time?
The poor clerk sighed. "Why do I get the impression that telling you would be a mistake?"
Because it was one. But you're still going to tell me, riiiiiiight?
He sighed again. "I have no idea why…but yes."
I never made the baby salmon mistake again.
Instead, I spent my next dozen lives experimenting with my size at capture. Humans valued catfish primarily in terms of weight, i.e., the heavier, the better. Obviously, I had no way to weigh myself, but I could use length as a proxy. Since Glitter kept reincarnating me in the same river, probably to replenish its catfish population, I'd just swim until I found my roof tile ruler. As the lives passed, it broke apart and crumbled away, but by then I'd learned my growth rate.
After my seventh life, when I spent forty years growing to four feet, Flicker told me that the fisherwoman who caught me won special praise for hooking the largest catfish in local history. Accompanied by her fellow fisherfolk, she paraded up to the castle and presented me to the baron. That night, I was steamed and served whole in the great hall so everyone could admire my magnificence. The joy this banquet brought the baron and his vassals earned me a windfall of karma – but was it worth the decades I'd invested?
Since he was in a hurry, Flicker refused to tell me exact numbers. However, from the thickness of my curriculum vitae, I estimated that I'd gained more karma from that single life than what I could have earned from living two or three times in the same time span. Still, nobles didn't throw a party every time a peasant brought them a big fish, so after some thought, I opted for shorter lives. Humans seemed sufficiently happy with two-feet-long catfish, which also gave me more opportunities to experiment with where and how I was caught. Of course, every time Flicker showed me the "catfish" rune on my file, I wailed about how boring its life was, how intolerably ugly it was, and so on.
It worked. I continued to reincarnate as a catfish.
"You're accumulating karma very…efficiently," Flicker commented after my fourteenth life, his pause conveying deep irony.
I ignored it. I had the measure of him by now: a lonely, bitter, overworked clerk whose social circle consisted of the souls he processed and the colleagues he nodded at in passing in the stairwell. I probably counted as his best friend.
So, how close am I to Black Tier? I chimed, expecting him to confess after much hemming and hawing and hedging that even though he really shouldn't be telling me this, a couple more lives should suffice….
"Not even close." His answer came with no hesitation whatsoever.
What? I nearly tumbled out of the air in shock. Catching myself, I yelped, Wait! I didn't spend that long in White Tier, did I?
Admittedly, after a few centuries, the lives had begun to blur together, but I could swear that I'd already spent longer in Green Tier than I had in White. How could I possibly not be on the cusp of Black?
But Flicker was shaking his head. His chin lifted slightly and his gaze drifted past me to focus on nothing, telltale signs that he was about to start reciting some manual. "The Earth requires significantly larger populations of lower lifeforms than it does higher ones. Have you heard of apex predators?"
Let's pretend I have.
Miracle of miracles, he skipped the natural philosophy lecture and cut to the relevant bit. "Simply put, the amount of karma that you need to advance increases with each Tier."
Increases? That's not fair! Pulsing fiercely, I demanded, How many more lives before I reach Black?
"It's not that simple. There's a very complicated function with many parameters that the Accountants have developed in order to calculate karma per life."
There was one obvious follow-up question: And is that function constant over time, or do they change it whenever they feel like it?
The clerks, as I'd seen, harbored an awe for Accountants second only to their reverence for Glitter. Flicker fixed me with a hard stare. "The Accountants are selected for their personal integrity, Piri. Don't assume that they operate under the same principles – or lack thereof – as you."
Ouch.
I didn't really care, though. He'd revealed enough for me to realize that I had to stop living normal catfish lives.
I had to get creative.
Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
My next life as a catfish, I swam until I passed a dark, curved object that my Piri-self recognized as a roof tile. Then I split off from my siblings, staked out that stretch of river as my territory, and measured myself every day. It took a few years, but when I reached one tile in length, I swam off in search of a fishing boat.
This time, Flicker informed me with some asperity, I did indeed grow big enough to provide sufficient monetary value to the fisherman who caught me, and nutritional value to the family that ate me. However – "Piri, you're defeating the point of the karma system. You're not supposed to gain positive karma unless you become a better person!"
I debated arguing that I was becoming a better person – but only for a second. Are you going to report me? I asked instead.
He hesitated for so long that I was about to start panicking when he answered, "No" in a defeated voice. He exhaled and his shoulders slumped. "No, I'm not."
I really appreciate that –
"It's not for your sake, Piri!" he burst out. "It's because there's no point! Yes, I could spend hours filling out paperwork to report that a soul is transgressing the rules, and then spend weeks filling out supplemental paperwork to document my observations, and responding to inquiries from my superiors as aforementioned paperwork makes its way up through the hierarchy…but I already know that in the end, Glitter will conclude that you haven't actually broken any rules and hence can't be punished – but by then she'll have wasted so many departmental resources on this investigation that she'll have to punish someone – and that someone will be me!" He broke off, breathing hard.
His skin flared and dimmed with his breathing rhythm, I noticed. Must be something star sprites did when they got upset. I gave him a moment to return to a steady glow.
Who's Glitter? Have I met her?
Dropping his head into his hands, he muttered something that sounded like "Self-centered as ever" before replying curtly, "Superintendent of Reincarnation. The one who oversees day-to-day operations here."
Oh.
"And you have met her. She was at the front desk in the audience chamber."
Her?! Her name was Glitter???
I remembered that doorwoman clerk – mostly because she'd been the one who revealed Flicker's name – and a less glittery personality I could not imagine. She'd been withered and white-haired, with thin lips and pinched cheeks and fierce eyes, the exact opposite of the Goddess of Life. But the clerks around Glitter had treated her like a queen. In fact, Flicker had addressed her as "honored one," while he saluted gods with a less-exalted-sounding "my lord" or "my lady." Honestly, I was surprised the gods weren't offended.
Most likely because they hadn't noticed yet.
Oh yeah, that reminds me. Your name is Flicker, hers is Glitter, and that clerk in the stairwell was Wink. How are star sprites named anyway?
"How are we named?" Flicker stared at me blankly, as if the question had never occurred to him. "We're not. We…just come into existence knowing our names. How do you know yours?"
Fair enough. Fox spirits all had elegant, poetic names, in keeping with our elegant, poetic natures. When I'd first awakened as a fox, even before I'd learned how to transform into a human, I'd done so with the full knowledge that I was Piri. Flos Piri, or Pear Blossom, to be precise, in reference to the image of a delicate, weeping maiden whose tears resembled the raindrops on the petals of a pure white pear blossom.
I would admit, it didn't exactly fit my personality. But it did conjure up all sorts of fantasies that I aspired to fulfill, which was the point.
Maybe star sprites were born cheerful, twinkling characters. Paperwork could, after all, crush the playfulness out of anyone.
Just look at Marcius.
Hey, how's Marcius anyway? What kind of animal did he reincarnate as? What's he up to on Earth?
I'd already seen the "Green" stamp on my document, so I knew that I'd reincarnate as an aquatic creature again. If Marcius happened to live near water, I could make my way to his river or lake and spy, er, check on him. Just to see how he was doing, of course. And maybe to mess with him. Messing with him would be entertaining. And free – since he wasn't human.
"Oh, no no no. I can't tell you that. That is absolutely forbidden."
But what if I run into him? I coaxed. I won't even know it's him.
"That's the reason we suppress your memories before reincarnation. So you can start fresh on Earth without all the baggage from your previous lives."
Oh. Since Flicker seemed determined to stick to this rule, I turned to a more immediate concern. Soooo, what am I going to be this time?
In answer, he slapped my file shut to show me the rune for "catfish" on the front.
Agaaaaain? I put a whine into my tone for Glitter's benefit, in case she monitored her underlings. She'd looked like the type who kept her beady eyes on everyone all the time so she could maintain constant control over her domain. Fliiiicker, why do you keep assigning me as a catfish?
He bought the pretense. "As I have told you over and over, I do not make decisions as to the details of reincarnation. I merely carry it out. You'd have to ask Glitter how she assigns souls – and I do not recommend doing that."
Okaaaaay, fiiiiine.
He studied me for a long moment, opened his mouth, and then shut it again, rather like a fish. I waited for him to ask if I were positive I didn't want to use the Tea of Forgetfulness this time, but all he said was, "Are you ready?"
Yep. Hit me.
And he did.
My third life as a catfish, I swam downstream as far as I could, mapping the riverbed and identifying the types of water spirits here. I saw catfish and loaches, gobies and mussels, softshell turtles and crabs, water snakes and shrimp, all of whom answered to the local dragon king.
Steering clear of them, I followed a school of silvery baby salmon who were migrating to the sea. They were so tiny and weak that they hid during the day and only came out at night, when they'd point their tails downstream and let the currents carry them along. At first, they eyeballed me warily and darted away if I got too close, but after a week, they grew used to my broad, dark form. The bolder ones even flashed forward to nibble my whiskers. They were pretty cute, I had to confess.
Even if I did occasionally get an urge to eat one.
My fish brain kept calling them food, while my Piri-self was curious about how a catfish's perception of flavor differed from a human's. Salmon had been served in the palace, after all. And I'd eaten it as a fox.
However, if I attacked even one baby salmon, the rest would never trust me again. So I amused myself by playing tag with them and refrained from eating any kind of fish in front of them, just in case. For the duration of our trip, I fed on insects, water snails, and plants, noting the change in species as the fresh river water gradually turned brackish. Eventually it grew too salty for me, and I waved a flipper at the baby salmon as they vanished into the sea.
See you next year, I called, even though they couldn't understand me.
Then I swam back upstream towards that roof tile.
"That was an encouraging life," Flicker praised the next time I saw him. For some reason, his lips were twitching towards an attempt at a smile. "You showed flashes of altruism, Piri."
I did?
I hadn't thought that leaping into a fishing net so I could gain karma so I could advance to a higher Tier counted as altruism, but hey, if that were how the Bureau of Reincarnation defined it, I wasn't going to argue.
I mean, of course I did! The cycle of reincarnation is helping me become a better person, just as it was designed to! I'm learning to view my past lives through fresh eyes – literally; one fresh set per life – and I am so, so ashamed of the person I used to be –
Flicker was groaning and massaging his temples again. "No need to lay it on so thick," he muttered. His eyes flicked towards a grate on the wall. His hands, I noted, hid his lips from anyone who might be spying through it.
At the image of Cassius hunched over on the other side with his ear pressed to the metal, I let out a happy chime.
Rearranging his face into sober lines, Flicker straightened. "I was referring to those salmon fry, Piri. You could have grown faster by eating them. Instead, you chose to shepherd them to the sea. I was…pleasantly surprised."
I, on the other hand, was appalled.
Of course I could have grown faster from devouring those baby salmon than from scrounging for bugs and plants on the river bottom. So why hadn't I done it? The reincarnation cycle wasn't erasing my personality, was it?
Did I get extra karma for it? I blurted out before remembering that a truly altruistic person wouldn't have asked that. Probably wouldn't even have dreamed of asking that.
Good. That meant I was still me.
"A token amount, for the extremely circuitously indirect benefit to humankind. Less than what you earned as an oyster for ecosystem engineering, I'm afraid. But don't focus on that," Flicker urged. "Focus on the sense of satisfaction you feel when you help others."
Mmmm, yes. I feel very satisfied when I help others. So how much did I help others by turning into their dinner this time?
The poor clerk sighed. "Why do I get the impression that telling you would be a mistake?"
Because it was one. But you're still going to tell me, riiiiiiight?
He sighed again. "I have no idea why…but yes."
I never made the baby salmon mistake again.
Instead, I spent my next dozen lives experimenting with my size at capture. Humans valued catfish primarily in terms of weight, i.e., the heavier, the better. Obviously, I had no way to weigh myself, but I could use length as a proxy. Since Glitter kept reincarnating me in the same river, probably to replenish its catfish population, I'd just swim until I found my roof tile ruler. As the lives passed, it broke apart and crumbled away, but by then I'd learned my growth rate.
After my seventh life, when I spent forty years growing to four feet, Flicker told me that the fisherwoman who caught me won special praise for hooking the largest catfish in local history. Accompanied by her fellow fisherfolk, she paraded up to the castle and presented me to the baron. That night, I was steamed and served whole in the great hall so everyone could admire my magnificence. The joy this banquet brought the baron and his vassals earned me a windfall of karma – but was it worth the decades I'd invested?
Since he was in a hurry, Flicker refused to tell me exact numbers. However, from the thickness of my curriculum vitae, I estimated that I'd gained more karma from that single life than what I could have earned from living two or three times in the same time span. Still, nobles didn't throw a party every time a peasant brought them a big fish, so after some thought, I opted for shorter lives. Humans seemed sufficiently happy with two-feet-long catfish, which also gave me more opportunities to experiment with where and how I was caught. Of course, every time Flicker showed me the "catfish" rune on my file, I wailed about how boring its life was, how intolerably ugly it was, and so on.
It worked. I continued to reincarnate as a catfish.
"You're accumulating karma very…efficiently," Flicker commented after my fourteenth life, his pause conveying deep irony.
I ignored it. I had the measure of him by now: a lonely, bitter, overworked clerk whose social circle consisted of the souls he processed and the colleagues he nodded at in passing in the stairwell. I probably counted as his best friend.
So, how close am I to Black Tier? I chimed, expecting him to confess after much hemming and hawing and hedging that even though he really shouldn't be telling me this, a couple more lives should suffice….
"Not even close." His answer came with no hesitation whatsoever.
What? I nearly tumbled out of the air in shock. Catching myself, I yelped, Wait! I didn't spend that long in White Tier, did I?
Admittedly, after a few centuries, the lives had begun to blur together, but I could swear that I'd already spent longer in Green Tier than I had in White. How could I possibly not be on the cusp of Black?
But Flicker was shaking his head. His chin lifted slightly and his gaze drifted past me to focus on nothing, telltale signs that he was about to start reciting some manual. "The Earth requires significantly larger populations of lower lifeforms than it does higher ones. Have you heard of apex predators?"
Let's pretend I have.
Miracle of miracles, he skipped the natural philosophy lecture and cut to the relevant bit. "Simply put, the amount of karma that you need to advance increases with each Tier."
Increases? That's not fair! Pulsing fiercely, I demanded, How many more lives before I reach Black?
"It's not that simple. There's a very complicated function with many parameters that the Accountants have developed in order to calculate karma per life."
There was one obvious follow-up question: And is that function constant over time, or do they change it whenever they feel like it?
The clerks, as I'd seen, harbored an awe for Accountants second only to their reverence for Glitter. Flicker fixed me with a hard stare. "The Accountants are selected for their personal integrity, Piri. Don't assume that they operate under the same principles – or lack thereof – as you."
Ouch.
I didn't really care, though. He'd revealed enough for me to realize that I had to stop living normal catfish lives.
I had to get creative.
Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
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The kind of catfish Piri wants to look like
Presenting...the Piri-catfish! I still don't recommend trusting her, though.
Here is the direct link.
Here is the direct link.
Cassius does not like this painting by Jaertin
That's not the only thing that mocks you, Cass, but let's not split hairs.
Chapter 9: The Water Court of Black Sand Creek
Chapter 9: The Water Court of Black Sand Creek
Flicker, of course, had no intention of letting me brainstorm in his office before he shuffled me off to my new life. He, as he'd informed me so many times, was a busy clerk who had an actual schedule that he had to stick to unless he wanted to pull unpaid overtime, which he didn't. But did all the time anyway. Usually thanks to me.
Since I only saw him every twenty years or so, I considered that a gross exaggeration. Still, he seemed disinclined to help concoct ideas for catfish charity work, meaning that loitering was pointless.
Okay, okay, fine, fine, let's get this over with.
His expression said that we were in complete agreement for once – and he didn't like it nearly as much as he'd thought he would.
As soon as I woke in my egg, I started thinking furiously. How in the world could a regular old catfish perform services for humanity, apart from letting humans eat it? What did humans even do with catfish, besides eat them?
Keep them for pets? That seemed wildly unlikely. Anyone who had the spare change for a private fishpond would prefer koi, while anyone who lacked aforementioned spare change would rather steam me or stir-fry me than lounge on a bench under a willow gazing languidly in my general direction.
Did humans study catfish? Some eccentric scholar might happen to come across, capture, and keep me for research purposes…but that also seemed unlikely in the extreme. Serican rivers were packed with catfish. They weren't some rare, prized species like that butterfly I'd reincarnated as back in White Tier, after I kept pestering Flicker about what kind of caterpillar I was.
After I kept pestering Flicker…. Now I was positive that Glitter spied on her clerks. Knowledge to file away for later. Right now, I needed altruistic activities to pad out my curriculum vitae.
As I glared at the watery world around me, I finally admitted that the obvious place to start was the local Water Court, because dragons controlled the rain that was critical to human agriculture. The most important of them ruled from crystal palaces deep under the Four Seas, lakes, and major rivers, served by mermaids, fish, crabs, shrimp, and other aquatic creatures that had awakened. (Guess those spirits were never advancing past Green Tier, poor things.) Lesser dragons oversaw creeks, inlets, marshes, swamps, ponds, and so on. Although we called all of them "dragon kings," in most cases, the title "king" was about as appropriate for one of these glorified water snakes as it was for a human bandit-turned-warlord on the fringes of the Serican Empire. The dragon king of this particular river dwelled in a humble grotto that I'd seen many times in my many lives.
I'd always swum straight past it.
Whenever I thought of dragons, I saw the hard, unblinking stares of the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas as they watched my trial. Not a single one of them had spoken up for me.
I hated dragons. All dragons.
And now I was going to ask one for help? Go as a supplicant into his court, kneel and kowtow before him, and beseech him for meaningful work?
At the image, I recoiled so hard that I knocked my egg into my siblings'. All around me, their thin, silvery forms twitched and wiggled around their yolk sacs until dozens of pairs of eyes were glaring at me.
Those eyes, those blank, black eyes –
In a flash, I was back in the Hall of Purple Mists, watching as Lady Fate's Three Cadavers handed her the documents she needed to condemn me. They'd stared at me afterwards, knowing what would happen to me, not caring.
A shudder convulsed me all the way down the length of my body. Don't stare! I shrieked. Don't you dare stare at me!
The eyes continued to regard me with no emotion whatsoever. No pity, no mercy, no remorse.
I had to rip them out – rip all of them out! Now! I thrashed as hard as I could, and my egg bounced and jerked crazily, but I was trapped between my egg sac and my egg membrane and I couldn't break free. I couldn't break free!
Stop staring at me! Stop staring at me! Stop staring at me!
Eventually, as the eggs bobbed and rotated, the eyes turned away, and I came back to my senses. Curved around my yolk sac, I floated, limp and worn out.
This must have been what Flicker meant when he said that erasing souls' memories allowed us a fresh start. After all, these eyes belonged to tiny, harmless baby catfish that hadn't even hatched yet. Plus the dragon king of this river probably hadn't attended my trial. Probably hadn't even gotten invited to my trial. I should go talk to him, see if he needed an odd-job fish in the rain department. Maybe he'd be the reasonable, helpful, generous sort.
Yeah, and maybe the Goddess of Life would be content once she got her own department. Somehow, I doubted it.
Still, it couldn't hurt to scout out the Water Court. It wasn't like I had to go inside. All I had to do was hang around the entrance, observe the dragon's visitors and vassals, and extrapolate his personality and potential usefulness. I didn't even have to see him if I didn't want to.
Yes. I could do that. That was what I would do.
As soon as I hatched, I split off from my siblings and swam for the grotto.
"Are you looking for something? Are you lost?" asked a voice.
I pretended not to understand. I was drifting around the dragon king's front gate, acting like a normal catfish fry. The opening was flanked by two posts that I hoped were decorative – if they were required for structural support, then the grotto was in big trouble – and topped by a small, curved roof whose tiles might once have been not-mud-brown. Below it swayed a driftwood board that said in crooked characters, as if it weren't sure how much pride to take in the proclamation either, "Black Sand Creek Water Court."
A pair of shrimp spirits was patrolling this stretch of riverbed, but they'd ignored me since I wasn't a spirit. Not the sharpest of guards, those two. But it did mean that up until now, no one had harassed me –
Something cold and scaly nudged my side.
I jerked. Click click click flapped my fin. Danger danger danger!
Ugh, idiot fish brain. In dangerous situations, never show fear. True fear, anyway.
When I'd wrested back control of the fin and clamped it to my side, I turned. Two feet away floated an amused-looking water snake spirit, one that hadn't lived enough centuries to sprout legs and horns and a mane and transform into a dragon yet. Under her chin dangled a seed pearl, a sign that she held some sort of minor post in the Water Court. "Are you looking for something?" she repeated. "I'm sure you can understand me."
Oh great, a competent spirit who'd actually figured out that I wasn't a normal fish. Time for some flattery.
N-no, I stuttered, feigning shyness. I arched my body forward in a clumsy bow. I – I just hatched today and – I was wondering what the ruler of this river is like…. Are you…the ruler, by any chance…? I made a show of gawking at her seed pearl.
It was irregular. Lumpy. Off-white. Barely larger than a grain of sand. Back in my Prime Minister days, I wouldn't even have threaded it onto a string for a tassel.
The water snake preened, tossing her head to make the pearl gleam. (It didn't.) "No, I am the Prime Minister of the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek," she announced, making it sound like the highest honor achievable. Maybe it was, in this river. "He is served by two carp captains, a company of shrimp guards, and a company of frog guards."
That…didn't sound particularly impressive to me. In fact, it sounded as if she were the only minister in the Black Sand Creek Water Court, which meant that she was basically a glorified clerk.
Still, I nodded along and opened and shut my mouth like a goldfish. Wow! Prime Minister? Two captains? Two whole companies of guards? What a glorious court!
She arched her long, skinny neck even more. If she weren't careful, she was going to tie it into a knot. "Isn't it just? Come, let me take you on a tour."
On instinct, I recoiled. My answer was an immediate, curt, Oh no, that won't be necessary. When she looked taken aback, I hastily tacked on an insincere, I couldn't possibly take up so much of your time, my lady. I know that as Prime Minister, you must be so busy….
"Oh no, it's no trouble at all. Come, come," she insisted, from which I inferred that she appreciated the chance to show off. "If you're lucky, you might even catch a glimpse of His Majesty Himself."
Oh, yay. Just what I'd wanted. But at this point, what else could I say besides a weak, Uh, sure, if you're sure it's not too much trouble?
"Excellent. This way, please." And she curved her tail around me and swept me through the gate.
The further down the tunnel we swam, the darker it got, until my mortal eyes could no longer distinguish where the water ended and the walls began. In my newborn fish body, I couldn't keep pace with the water snake, and she didn't bother to slow down. Soon I was gasping and splashing weakly. Good thing catfish had good hearing, so at least I could swim after her swishing sounds.
After an eternity, a yellow glow began to light the tunnel, and the water snake finally stopped in front of a dull red door. Above the lintel bobbed a lotus-shaped lantern, similar to the votive lamps that humans floated down the rivers during the Moon of Hungry Ghosts. (Supposedly, their light guided the spirits of those who had drowned to reincarnation as humans. Pure superstition, as I now knew – reincarnating as a human depended partially on your curriculum vitae and entirely on the whims of the gods.) Was this dragon king so poor that he had to repurpose votive lamps as lighting fixtures?
"Behold, the audience chamber," announced the water snake when I caught up.
Audience…chamber? I wheezed. My muscles were floppy. My fins sagged. My whiskers drooped. Tired. So, so tired.
"Yes. Through this portal." She waved her tail at the door.
What a…beautiful door…. If I kept praising it, could we stay here longer? I could barely move. Love…the color…..
"Isn't it a resplendent shade of red? His Majesty selected it personally." She made a show of pressing the side of her head to the door and listening hard. Then she stage-whispered, "You're in luck. His Majesty isn't holding court right now. Let me show you the audience chamber." With a flick of her tail, she flung the door open – or tried to.
It stuck.
Bunching up her coils, she shoved it again (well, that explained the scratches on the paint). This time, the door creaked open. "Behold, the audience chamber of the Black Sand Creek Water Court!"
Across the room, a scraggly black dragon that was nodding off on a driftwood throne bolted upright. "What the – !"
"Your Majesty!" cried the water snake, throwing herself to the packed-earth floor so violently that the water currents tumbled me back out the door. As I fought to right myself, I heard her screech, "Forgive me! Your humble servant failed to realize that she was in Your August Presence!"
I swear, I could hear the capitalization.
"Oh, calm down, Nagi," groused the dragon, slouching back down. His scales made horrible scraping noises across the wood. "You're giving me a headache."
"A headache, Your Most August Majesty! Shall I send for the Royal Physician?"
"What royal physician? Nagi, I just got rid of Captain Carpio, and before you know it, Captain Carpa is going to be here, pestering me about which one of them outranks the other when she knows I couldn't care less. Also, it's irrelevant. So, unless you're here to tell me that you plan to sort out that mess, please let me have some peace and quiet."
Nagi the water snake hissed. "Your Majesty, we have a visitor," she scolded, sounding like a nanny or governess. "Do try to make an effort to act regal in front of outsiders."
"A visitor? I don't see anyone."
Straightening, she looked around, which I took as my cue to paddle back in. "Ah, here it is. Behold, Your Majesty! The rarest of rarities – an unawakened fish that can talk!"
"Oh? A talking fish?" Curiosity piqued, the dragon raised his head. His shaggy, stringy mane parted to reveal the pearl under his chin that granted him authority over Black Sand Creek. It wasn't a particularly impressive pearl. I'd worn much better.
I curved my body into a deep bow but didn't speak.
"Come closer," commanded the dragon. "Say something."
I was tempted to parrot "something" right back at him, but thought better of it. Instead, I swam forward until I was a few feet away and inquired, What would Your Majesty like this humble servant to say?
"You're right! It does talk!" he marveled, making Nagi arch her neck proudly. "But how?" Pig-like nostrils flaring, he scrutinized me from head to tail. "It looks like a normal catfish fry."
"That is what I thought too initially. It is why I brought it to Your Majesty, in hopes of providing some amusement that can lighten the burden of ruling Black Sand Creek."
Yeah. Sure. That was very much not the truth, and the dragon knew it too.
"Oh, drop the act, Nagi," he complained. "It's just a fish. You don't have to show off for it."
The water snake's long body tensed. "It may be 'just a fish,' but if you get into the habit of vulgar speech, it will be that much harder to remember to speak properly in front of your peers. Do you want to humiliate yourself again this year at the Meeting of the Dragon Host?"
Whatever happened last year must have been devastating, because the dragon slunk down in his chair, ears and even horns drooping. Fascinated, I watched their exchange. The dynamics reminded me of my own interactions with Cassius, even if I'd been a lot more subtle.
"No…," the dragon mumbled.
"Then practice!"
At that, he shot back up. "Silence! You go too far, vassal."
"Well, I never – !" began Nagi, indignant, before she realized that he was behaving precisely the way she'd badgered him to. She sank into a pile of coils on the floor. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, if in my zeal to serve you, I have overstepped."
Over-slithered? Over-swum?
"Just this once, in light of your many decades of devoted service, We will overlook it," proclaimed the dragon. "See that you do not forget yourself again."
That wasn't half-bad, actually.
Nagi's eyes gleamed with approval. "Your Majesty is ever gracious."
He accepted that with a slow, arrogant nod. "Now, as for this tribute that you have brought Us – "
Before I could react, his hands flashed forward. Four long claws closed around me, forming a cage.
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Flicker, of course, had no intention of letting me brainstorm in his office before he shuffled me off to my new life. He, as he'd informed me so many times, was a busy clerk who had an actual schedule that he had to stick to unless he wanted to pull unpaid overtime, which he didn't. But did all the time anyway. Usually thanks to me.
Since I only saw him every twenty years or so, I considered that a gross exaggeration. Still, he seemed disinclined to help concoct ideas for catfish charity work, meaning that loitering was pointless.
Okay, okay, fine, fine, let's get this over with.
His expression said that we were in complete agreement for once – and he didn't like it nearly as much as he'd thought he would.
As soon as I woke in my egg, I started thinking furiously. How in the world could a regular old catfish perform services for humanity, apart from letting humans eat it? What did humans even do with catfish, besides eat them?
Keep them for pets? That seemed wildly unlikely. Anyone who had the spare change for a private fishpond would prefer koi, while anyone who lacked aforementioned spare change would rather steam me or stir-fry me than lounge on a bench under a willow gazing languidly in my general direction.
Did humans study catfish? Some eccentric scholar might happen to come across, capture, and keep me for research purposes…but that also seemed unlikely in the extreme. Serican rivers were packed with catfish. They weren't some rare, prized species like that butterfly I'd reincarnated as back in White Tier, after I kept pestering Flicker about what kind of caterpillar I was.
After I kept pestering Flicker…. Now I was positive that Glitter spied on her clerks. Knowledge to file away for later. Right now, I needed altruistic activities to pad out my curriculum vitae.
As I glared at the watery world around me, I finally admitted that the obvious place to start was the local Water Court, because dragons controlled the rain that was critical to human agriculture. The most important of them ruled from crystal palaces deep under the Four Seas, lakes, and major rivers, served by mermaids, fish, crabs, shrimp, and other aquatic creatures that had awakened. (Guess those spirits were never advancing past Green Tier, poor things.) Lesser dragons oversaw creeks, inlets, marshes, swamps, ponds, and so on. Although we called all of them "dragon kings," in most cases, the title "king" was about as appropriate for one of these glorified water snakes as it was for a human bandit-turned-warlord on the fringes of the Serican Empire. The dragon king of this particular river dwelled in a humble grotto that I'd seen many times in my many lives.
I'd always swum straight past it.
Whenever I thought of dragons, I saw the hard, unblinking stares of the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas as they watched my trial. Not a single one of them had spoken up for me.
I hated dragons. All dragons.
And now I was going to ask one for help? Go as a supplicant into his court, kneel and kowtow before him, and beseech him for meaningful work?
At the image, I recoiled so hard that I knocked my egg into my siblings'. All around me, their thin, silvery forms twitched and wiggled around their yolk sacs until dozens of pairs of eyes were glaring at me.
Those eyes, those blank, black eyes –
In a flash, I was back in the Hall of Purple Mists, watching as Lady Fate's Three Cadavers handed her the documents she needed to condemn me. They'd stared at me afterwards, knowing what would happen to me, not caring.
A shudder convulsed me all the way down the length of my body. Don't stare! I shrieked. Don't you dare stare at me!
The eyes continued to regard me with no emotion whatsoever. No pity, no mercy, no remorse.
I had to rip them out – rip all of them out! Now! I thrashed as hard as I could, and my egg bounced and jerked crazily, but I was trapped between my egg sac and my egg membrane and I couldn't break free. I couldn't break free!
Stop staring at me! Stop staring at me! Stop staring at me!
Eventually, as the eggs bobbed and rotated, the eyes turned away, and I came back to my senses. Curved around my yolk sac, I floated, limp and worn out.
This must have been what Flicker meant when he said that erasing souls' memories allowed us a fresh start. After all, these eyes belonged to tiny, harmless baby catfish that hadn't even hatched yet. Plus the dragon king of this river probably hadn't attended my trial. Probably hadn't even gotten invited to my trial. I should go talk to him, see if he needed an odd-job fish in the rain department. Maybe he'd be the reasonable, helpful, generous sort.
Yeah, and maybe the Goddess of Life would be content once she got her own department. Somehow, I doubted it.
Still, it couldn't hurt to scout out the Water Court. It wasn't like I had to go inside. All I had to do was hang around the entrance, observe the dragon's visitors and vassals, and extrapolate his personality and potential usefulness. I didn't even have to see him if I didn't want to.
Yes. I could do that. That was what I would do.
As soon as I hatched, I split off from my siblings and swam for the grotto.
"Are you looking for something? Are you lost?" asked a voice.
I pretended not to understand. I was drifting around the dragon king's front gate, acting like a normal catfish fry. The opening was flanked by two posts that I hoped were decorative – if they were required for structural support, then the grotto was in big trouble – and topped by a small, curved roof whose tiles might once have been not-mud-brown. Below it swayed a driftwood board that said in crooked characters, as if it weren't sure how much pride to take in the proclamation either, "Black Sand Creek Water Court."
A pair of shrimp spirits was patrolling this stretch of riverbed, but they'd ignored me since I wasn't a spirit. Not the sharpest of guards, those two. But it did mean that up until now, no one had harassed me –
Something cold and scaly nudged my side.
I jerked. Click click click flapped my fin. Danger danger danger!
Ugh, idiot fish brain. In dangerous situations, never show fear. True fear, anyway.
When I'd wrested back control of the fin and clamped it to my side, I turned. Two feet away floated an amused-looking water snake spirit, one that hadn't lived enough centuries to sprout legs and horns and a mane and transform into a dragon yet. Under her chin dangled a seed pearl, a sign that she held some sort of minor post in the Water Court. "Are you looking for something?" she repeated. "I'm sure you can understand me."
Oh great, a competent spirit who'd actually figured out that I wasn't a normal fish. Time for some flattery.
N-no, I stuttered, feigning shyness. I arched my body forward in a clumsy bow. I – I just hatched today and – I was wondering what the ruler of this river is like…. Are you…the ruler, by any chance…? I made a show of gawking at her seed pearl.
It was irregular. Lumpy. Off-white. Barely larger than a grain of sand. Back in my Prime Minister days, I wouldn't even have threaded it onto a string for a tassel.
The water snake preened, tossing her head to make the pearl gleam. (It didn't.) "No, I am the Prime Minister of the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek," she announced, making it sound like the highest honor achievable. Maybe it was, in this river. "He is served by two carp captains, a company of shrimp guards, and a company of frog guards."
That…didn't sound particularly impressive to me. In fact, it sounded as if she were the only minister in the Black Sand Creek Water Court, which meant that she was basically a glorified clerk.
Still, I nodded along and opened and shut my mouth like a goldfish. Wow! Prime Minister? Two captains? Two whole companies of guards? What a glorious court!
She arched her long, skinny neck even more. If she weren't careful, she was going to tie it into a knot. "Isn't it just? Come, let me take you on a tour."
On instinct, I recoiled. My answer was an immediate, curt, Oh no, that won't be necessary. When she looked taken aback, I hastily tacked on an insincere, I couldn't possibly take up so much of your time, my lady. I know that as Prime Minister, you must be so busy….
"Oh no, it's no trouble at all. Come, come," she insisted, from which I inferred that she appreciated the chance to show off. "If you're lucky, you might even catch a glimpse of His Majesty Himself."
Oh, yay. Just what I'd wanted. But at this point, what else could I say besides a weak, Uh, sure, if you're sure it's not too much trouble?
"Excellent. This way, please." And she curved her tail around me and swept me through the gate.
The further down the tunnel we swam, the darker it got, until my mortal eyes could no longer distinguish where the water ended and the walls began. In my newborn fish body, I couldn't keep pace with the water snake, and she didn't bother to slow down. Soon I was gasping and splashing weakly. Good thing catfish had good hearing, so at least I could swim after her swishing sounds.
After an eternity, a yellow glow began to light the tunnel, and the water snake finally stopped in front of a dull red door. Above the lintel bobbed a lotus-shaped lantern, similar to the votive lamps that humans floated down the rivers during the Moon of Hungry Ghosts. (Supposedly, their light guided the spirits of those who had drowned to reincarnation as humans. Pure superstition, as I now knew – reincarnating as a human depended partially on your curriculum vitae and entirely on the whims of the gods.) Was this dragon king so poor that he had to repurpose votive lamps as lighting fixtures?
"Behold, the audience chamber," announced the water snake when I caught up.
Audience…chamber? I wheezed. My muscles were floppy. My fins sagged. My whiskers drooped. Tired. So, so tired.
"Yes. Through this portal." She waved her tail at the door.
What a…beautiful door…. If I kept praising it, could we stay here longer? I could barely move. Love…the color…..
"Isn't it a resplendent shade of red? His Majesty selected it personally." She made a show of pressing the side of her head to the door and listening hard. Then she stage-whispered, "You're in luck. His Majesty isn't holding court right now. Let me show you the audience chamber." With a flick of her tail, she flung the door open – or tried to.
It stuck.
Bunching up her coils, she shoved it again (well, that explained the scratches on the paint). This time, the door creaked open. "Behold, the audience chamber of the Black Sand Creek Water Court!"
Across the room, a scraggly black dragon that was nodding off on a driftwood throne bolted upright. "What the – !"
"Your Majesty!" cried the water snake, throwing herself to the packed-earth floor so violently that the water currents tumbled me back out the door. As I fought to right myself, I heard her screech, "Forgive me! Your humble servant failed to realize that she was in Your August Presence!"
I swear, I could hear the capitalization.
"Oh, calm down, Nagi," groused the dragon, slouching back down. His scales made horrible scraping noises across the wood. "You're giving me a headache."
"A headache, Your Most August Majesty! Shall I send for the Royal Physician?"
"What royal physician? Nagi, I just got rid of Captain Carpio, and before you know it, Captain Carpa is going to be here, pestering me about which one of them outranks the other when she knows I couldn't care less. Also, it's irrelevant. So, unless you're here to tell me that you plan to sort out that mess, please let me have some peace and quiet."
Nagi the water snake hissed. "Your Majesty, we have a visitor," she scolded, sounding like a nanny or governess. "Do try to make an effort to act regal in front of outsiders."
"A visitor? I don't see anyone."
Straightening, she looked around, which I took as my cue to paddle back in. "Ah, here it is. Behold, Your Majesty! The rarest of rarities – an unawakened fish that can talk!"
"Oh? A talking fish?" Curiosity piqued, the dragon raised his head. His shaggy, stringy mane parted to reveal the pearl under his chin that granted him authority over Black Sand Creek. It wasn't a particularly impressive pearl. I'd worn much better.
I curved my body into a deep bow but didn't speak.
"Come closer," commanded the dragon. "Say something."
I was tempted to parrot "something" right back at him, but thought better of it. Instead, I swam forward until I was a few feet away and inquired, What would Your Majesty like this humble servant to say?
"You're right! It does talk!" he marveled, making Nagi arch her neck proudly. "But how?" Pig-like nostrils flaring, he scrutinized me from head to tail. "It looks like a normal catfish fry."
"That is what I thought too initially. It is why I brought it to Your Majesty, in hopes of providing some amusement that can lighten the burden of ruling Black Sand Creek."
Yeah. Sure. That was very much not the truth, and the dragon knew it too.
"Oh, drop the act, Nagi," he complained. "It's just a fish. You don't have to show off for it."
The water snake's long body tensed. "It may be 'just a fish,' but if you get into the habit of vulgar speech, it will be that much harder to remember to speak properly in front of your peers. Do you want to humiliate yourself again this year at the Meeting of the Dragon Host?"
Whatever happened last year must have been devastating, because the dragon slunk down in his chair, ears and even horns drooping. Fascinated, I watched their exchange. The dynamics reminded me of my own interactions with Cassius, even if I'd been a lot more subtle.
"No…," the dragon mumbled.
"Then practice!"
At that, he shot back up. "Silence! You go too far, vassal."
"Well, I never – !" began Nagi, indignant, before she realized that he was behaving precisely the way she'd badgered him to. She sank into a pile of coils on the floor. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, if in my zeal to serve you, I have overstepped."
Over-slithered? Over-swum?
"Just this once, in light of your many decades of devoted service, We will overlook it," proclaimed the dragon. "See that you do not forget yourself again."
That wasn't half-bad, actually.
Nagi's eyes gleamed with approval. "Your Majesty is ever gracious."
He accepted that with a slow, arrogant nod. "Now, as for this tribute that you have brought Us – "
Before I could react, his hands flashed forward. Four long claws closed around me, forming a cage.
Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
Chapter 10: The Dragon King's Pet
Chapter 10: The Dragon King's Pet
I couldn't help it. I squeaked.
"It's all right, little fishy. Dooooon't worry. Everything's all right," singsonged the dragon. So much for his regal act. Raising me to eye level, he studied me through his claws. "Aren't you a pweedy weedle fish?"
No, no, I really wasn't. I was scrawny and had bulbous eyes and an oversized jaw, and on top of that, I was still stuck to a yolk sac. But then again, the dragon was on the weedy side himself, with bulging eyes and gnarled, yellowish horns like a hag's fingernails. His scales weren't the gleaming black of polished jade, either, but the dull, greasy shade of a peasant's unwashed hair.
"It really does look like a completely normal catfish fry," he mused. Still coiled up on the ground, Nagi practically quivered for him to solicit her opinion, but instead, he asked me, "Do you have a name, little fishy?"
Well, I certainly wasn't telling him "Piri." Even if the Goddess of Life hadn't banned me from discussing her boon, I couldn't see any advantage in letting other spirits know who I was. I was, after all, notorious. No, Your Majesty. It would be an honor if You were to bestow one upon me.
His eyes lit up. Up close, the rings of red and blue around the black pupils reminded me of archery targets. "Awww, who's a cute weedle fishy? Who's a cute weedle fishy? Yes you are!"
Great.
"Hmmmm, what should I name you? What's a good name for a fish?" He gazed across the audience chamber as he consulted his mental archives. "Fishy? No, no, that's too boring." (But appropriate. There was something odd about me.) "You're a catfish so…Cat? Catty? Kitty?"
Well, I supposed I had eaten my fair share of fish.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Nagi spoke up. "Perhaps a name that is more dignified, Your Majesty? A name that is worthy of the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek?"
The dragon blinked. "A dignified name. Uh…. Let's see…. Are there any good poems about Black Sand Creek?"
Poems, almost certainly. Good ones, most likely not. As I'd seen in Cassius' court, humans loved to attend garden-viewing parties where they would compose poems on the sunset over the mountains or the wind that rustled the willows or other such worn-out imagery. And then they'd recite them to one another. For hours.
I'd banned these parties on and off, mostly for the sake of my ears, but also because reform-minded scholars sometimes hid political protests in their verses. Inconsistent censorship kept them in a useful state of ferment.
Anyway, Flicker had mentioned a baron in a castle on the banks of Black Sand Creek, which meant that the local nobles would have generated their fair share of "poetry." I'd bet a lot of it centered on the moon's reflection in the river.
And indeed, the next sentence that came out of the dragon's mouth was: "Isn't there that one poem about the moon breaking through the clouds and reflecting on the river?" Clearing his throat and lifting his chin, he declaimed, "A strip of moonlight breaks through the clouds/And spreads across the surface of the water/Half the river is silver, the other half black/I love the fifteenth of the Harvest Moon."
Oh, this kept getting better. This wasn't just a bad poem – it was a bad plagiarism of one of Marcius' poems. The dragon, however, did not seem to be aware of that.
"Moonlight…clouds…. Got it! Mooncloud! Your name will be Mooncloud!"
Shockingly, that wasn't such a bad name. I bobbed my head before he could come up with something worse. I love it, Your Majesty.
"Mooncloud it is. Mooncloud the Talking Catfish. Nagi, make it a nametag and find a nice cage for it, will you?"
A cage? I recoiled, banging into his claws.
At my distress, the dragon brought me close to his face again. "Don't worry, little Mooncloud, it will be the nicest, prettiest, comfortable-est cage a fish could want. It will be so much better than living on your own in the wild. Here, you'll get as much food as you can eat – well, as long as you don't become overweight, because that's unhealthy – and you'll be safe from predators and fishermen. You'll like it here, won't you?" Without waiting for my response, he crooned, "Yes, you will."
I didn't.
Oh, it wasn't that I lacked for food or care or even entertainment. Delighted with his new pet, the dragon had his crab servants carry my cage everywhere he went. At night, he slept with it hanging from a stand by his bed. In the morning, he ate breakfast with it next to him on the table. While he sucked the spiritual essence from a bowl of seed pearls, I crunched through my own dish of plump water bugs. Afterwards, when he headed to the audience chamber, which apparently doubled as his study, the crabs set my cage on a little table next to his throne, so he could glance at me whenever he needed a break. And, of course, so he could show off this amazing, talking, unawakened fish to all his visitors. That was annoying, but once we got the obligatory oohing and aahing out of the way, I got to hear about Black Sand Creek politics, which was surprisingly dramatic. I didn't even mind being caged all the time, since as I grew, the crabs kept transferring me into bigger cages so I always had room to stretch my fins.
No, what I really couldn't stand was the way the dragon treated me as if I were an ignorant fox kit. Sometimes it reached truly humiliating proportions, such as the time the Black Sand Creek Pearl Farm's superintendent came to petition for relief from bandits.
"The duck demons are back," complained the freshwater pearl mussel spirit. "They keep diving down to dig out the mussels. We've confirmed that they're selling them to humans both for the pearls and as food. But every time the frog guards give chase, the ducks just flap across the border into Baron Claymouth's fief, and then we can't do anything!"
Donning a grave expression, the dragon intoned, "That is serious indeed, Nacre."
Coiled on his right, Nagi hissed. "This is an outrage! Your Majesty, we must act quickly and decisively. Shall I send for the captains?"
"Do so," ordered the dragon.
She waved her tail at a young crab messenger, who scuttled off down the tunnel.
By now, I'd learned that pearls played a critical role in the underwater economy. Not only did their essence provide food for water spirits, but, once drained, the larger pearls served as emblems of authority and the tiny ones as currency. That meant that the duck demons' actions were the equivalent of human bandits attacking gold mines. How would the dragon king deal with this situation? How would I deal with this situation? As I ran through options in my head, Captain Carpa arrived and made her bow.
The dragon frowned. "Where is Captain Carpio?" he asked the crab.
"Apologies, Your Majesty," she chirped, clicking her claws together. "I was unable to find him."
Straightening, Captain Carpa spoke up. "It is regrettable, Your Majesty, but my colleague is often difficult to locate when there are urgent matters at stake." Her tone insinuated that he spent his shifts frolicking on the surface or carousing in underwater pubs.
Nagi hissed again, and Captain Carpa's thick lips curved into a smug grin.
"Well," fretted the dragon. "Well, I suppose that can't be helped. Find him and tell him to come here at once," he ordered the crab. As it scurried off, he turned back to the carp. "Captain, the duck demons are robbing the pearl farm again. I thought I told you to double the guard. Why is it still happening?"
Hmm, yes, doubling the guard was a good first step. That's what I would do too, just for a few weeks. After that, I'd report to Cassius that our splendid show of force had driven off the bandits like the cowards they were, so now it was safe to decrease the guard. Paying them was so expensive, and we mustn't waste money, isn't that right, Imperial Treasurer…? The Imperial Treasurer would glare at me but swallow his counterarguments, Cassius would agree, we'd transfer the guards elsewhere, and then of course the bandits would return and we'd repeat the whole cycle. Fiscal uncertainty worked wonders for the economy.
Oh, wait. The goal here wasn't to destroy the Water Court. Right.
Captain Carpa was sweeping another bow. "Regrettably, recruitment has been down this moon. Perhaps if we offer additional inducements – a salary increase, for example – we might be able to make the position more attractive to young spirits."
Nagi reproved her, "That's what you said last moon too, when you requested extra funding. A request that we granted, may I remind you."
Captain Carpa waved her fin in a helpless gesture. "Alas, it appears that the inducements were insufficient."
I had my own suspicions about why that had been the case. Captain Carpa was exactly the sort of oily, corrupt creature that I used to employ.
Nagi was about to interrogate her further when loud, swooshing sounds from the tunnel interrupted. An agitated Captain Carpio burst into the audience chamber. Catching sight of his colleague, who looked as if she'd already been here for some time and was deeply involved in a very important conference, he blustered, "Your Majesty! I was escorting the courier down to the Eastern Sea. I came as soon as I heard!"
Him, I actually believed.
"Nacre informed us that the duck demons are robbing the pearl farm again," Nagi summarized for him. "Captain Carpa reports that she has had trouble with recruitment and hence cannot double the guard. What do you know of the matter?"
Captain Carpio spat a stream of bubbles at Captain Carpa. "Prime Minister, I've warned you over and over that Carpa is incompetent. Plus everyone and their unawakened cousins know that she embezzles."
"Says the bully who swaggers into pubs and expects free food and drink 'for his service'," she snorted. She even managed to make air quotes (water quotes?) with her fins.
"You – !" Captain Carpio flung himself at her, biting at her sides with his pointy teeth.
Whirling, she whacked him away with her tail, then lunged for his fins.
The dragon and Nagi didn't even look startled, although Nacre did burrow partway into the floor.
What kind of court was this? No matter how much Marcius and his allies had hated me, none of them would ever have punched me in the throne room. And I would never have bitten them either. Not in the throne room, anyway.
I found myself swimming around and around my cage in tight, agitated circles and forced myself to stop. How about mercenaries? I suggested.
No one heard. The dragon was rubbing his temples, Nagi was flicking her tongue in irritation, and each captain was trying to maim the other into retirement.
Thrusting my head through the bars, I yelled, How about hiring mercenaries!
A shocked silence fell over the audience chamber. The two carp broke apart, fins torn, teeth bared. Nacre stopped burrowing and poked the lip of his shell out of his hole. The dragon and Nagi gaped at me. Had these water spirits never heard of mercenaries?
Umm, you know, they're professional guards you can hire for money?
They kept staring.
Hmm, maybe it wasn't because they'd never heard of mercenaries. Maybe it was the opposite. Clearing my throat, I elaborated, It sounds like Black Sand Creek has a cash flow problem, but surely this expense is a good investment for preventing future raids. Even if the presence of mercenaries tends to cause other problems, I'd still say it's a reasonable stopgap measure, and I urge Your Majesty to – eek!
The dragon had swept up my cage. Cradling it in the crook of one foreleg, he stuck a claw through the bars and stroked my forehead. "Aren't you cute!" he cried. "Aren't you just the cutest, smartest, prettiest little catfish in the world!"
Uhhhh…. Did that mean he intended to implement my proposal?
He held up the cage so Nacre could get a good look at me. "Isn't she just the smartest?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," agreed the mussel obediently.
"Mercenaries are a terrible idea," Captain Carpio told the dragon without a glance in my direction. "They're overpriced to start with, and they always demand more and more pay. And then they raid you if you don't cave in."
Not always – I tried to defend my idea, but the dragon cut me off by thumping my cage back onto the table.
Ignoring me, he turned to Captain Carpa. "And you? What are your thoughts?"
She hesitated for so long that I thought she was genuinely considering it. At last, she squeezed out a reluctant, "I agree with my colleague."
Oh. She just didn't want to go on record as agreeing with her rival on anything.
Wait, Your Majesty, I think you should –
He talked right over me. "Nagi? Thoughts?"
I stuck my fins between the bars and flapped them, trying to catch her eye, but the snake didn't look at me either. "I agree with the captains. Mercenaries are too expensive and too risky. It would be more advisable to increase the recruitment budget for the next moon."
If they were going to funnel more money into Captain Carpa's metaphorical pockets anyway, then why not at least try to negotiate with a mercenary captain? It might be cheaper. And it definitely would be more effective. Your Majesty –
The dragon lifted his chin, letting the other spirits see his pearl. "Then it is decided. Thank you for bringing this matter to Our attention," he told Nacre. "We shall see to the better defense of Our pearl farm."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Crawling out of his hole, the mussel galumphed out of the audience chamber on his one foot.
"Come up with a recruitment plan and present it to us tomorrow," Nagi ordered the captains, who glared at each other. "You are dismissed."
On the way out, Captain Carpio shoved ahead of Captain Carpa, who made a show of wincing and clapping a fin to her side.
As soon as the door closed behind them, I threw myself against the bars of my cage. Look, Your Majesty, I still think you should consider at least contacting a mercenary captain and getting a sense of their rates –
Sticking out a claw, the dragon tickled me under the chin. "Isn't she so smart?" he marveled to Nagi. "How did she get so smart?"
She puffed up with pride. "I am glad that my humble gift is so pleasing to Your Majesty."
The dragon scooped up the cage again and admired me through the bars. "So pretty too. Such a pretty catfish. Aren't you the prettiest little catfish in the world? Yes you are!"
I gave up. At least I was earning karma for all the happiness I was bringing him, right?
A/N 1: If anyone is wondering about the poem, it's a bad adaption of this one by Bai Juyi.
A/N 2: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
I couldn't help it. I squeaked.
"It's all right, little fishy. Dooooon't worry. Everything's all right," singsonged the dragon. So much for his regal act. Raising me to eye level, he studied me through his claws. "Aren't you a pweedy weedle fish?"
No, no, I really wasn't. I was scrawny and had bulbous eyes and an oversized jaw, and on top of that, I was still stuck to a yolk sac. But then again, the dragon was on the weedy side himself, with bulging eyes and gnarled, yellowish horns like a hag's fingernails. His scales weren't the gleaming black of polished jade, either, but the dull, greasy shade of a peasant's unwashed hair.
"It really does look like a completely normal catfish fry," he mused. Still coiled up on the ground, Nagi practically quivered for him to solicit her opinion, but instead, he asked me, "Do you have a name, little fishy?"
Well, I certainly wasn't telling him "Piri." Even if the Goddess of Life hadn't banned me from discussing her boon, I couldn't see any advantage in letting other spirits know who I was. I was, after all, notorious. No, Your Majesty. It would be an honor if You were to bestow one upon me.
His eyes lit up. Up close, the rings of red and blue around the black pupils reminded me of archery targets. "Awww, who's a cute weedle fishy? Who's a cute weedle fishy? Yes you are!"
Great.
"Hmmmm, what should I name you? What's a good name for a fish?" He gazed across the audience chamber as he consulted his mental archives. "Fishy? No, no, that's too boring." (But appropriate. There was something odd about me.) "You're a catfish so…Cat? Catty? Kitty?"
Well, I supposed I had eaten my fair share of fish.
Unable to contain herself any longer, Nagi spoke up. "Perhaps a name that is more dignified, Your Majesty? A name that is worthy of the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek?"
The dragon blinked. "A dignified name. Uh…. Let's see…. Are there any good poems about Black Sand Creek?"
Poems, almost certainly. Good ones, most likely not. As I'd seen in Cassius' court, humans loved to attend garden-viewing parties where they would compose poems on the sunset over the mountains or the wind that rustled the willows or other such worn-out imagery. And then they'd recite them to one another. For hours.
I'd banned these parties on and off, mostly for the sake of my ears, but also because reform-minded scholars sometimes hid political protests in their verses. Inconsistent censorship kept them in a useful state of ferment.
Anyway, Flicker had mentioned a baron in a castle on the banks of Black Sand Creek, which meant that the local nobles would have generated their fair share of "poetry." I'd bet a lot of it centered on the moon's reflection in the river.
And indeed, the next sentence that came out of the dragon's mouth was: "Isn't there that one poem about the moon breaking through the clouds and reflecting on the river?" Clearing his throat and lifting his chin, he declaimed, "A strip of moonlight breaks through the clouds/And spreads across the surface of the water/Half the river is silver, the other half black/I love the fifteenth of the Harvest Moon."
Oh, this kept getting better. This wasn't just a bad poem – it was a bad plagiarism of one of Marcius' poems. The dragon, however, did not seem to be aware of that.
"Moonlight…clouds…. Got it! Mooncloud! Your name will be Mooncloud!"
Shockingly, that wasn't such a bad name. I bobbed my head before he could come up with something worse. I love it, Your Majesty.
"Mooncloud it is. Mooncloud the Talking Catfish. Nagi, make it a nametag and find a nice cage for it, will you?"
A cage? I recoiled, banging into his claws.
At my distress, the dragon brought me close to his face again. "Don't worry, little Mooncloud, it will be the nicest, prettiest, comfortable-est cage a fish could want. It will be so much better than living on your own in the wild. Here, you'll get as much food as you can eat – well, as long as you don't become overweight, because that's unhealthy – and you'll be safe from predators and fishermen. You'll like it here, won't you?" Without waiting for my response, he crooned, "Yes, you will."
I didn't.
Oh, it wasn't that I lacked for food or care or even entertainment. Delighted with his new pet, the dragon had his crab servants carry my cage everywhere he went. At night, he slept with it hanging from a stand by his bed. In the morning, he ate breakfast with it next to him on the table. While he sucked the spiritual essence from a bowl of seed pearls, I crunched through my own dish of plump water bugs. Afterwards, when he headed to the audience chamber, which apparently doubled as his study, the crabs set my cage on a little table next to his throne, so he could glance at me whenever he needed a break. And, of course, so he could show off this amazing, talking, unawakened fish to all his visitors. That was annoying, but once we got the obligatory oohing and aahing out of the way, I got to hear about Black Sand Creek politics, which was surprisingly dramatic. I didn't even mind being caged all the time, since as I grew, the crabs kept transferring me into bigger cages so I always had room to stretch my fins.
No, what I really couldn't stand was the way the dragon treated me as if I were an ignorant fox kit. Sometimes it reached truly humiliating proportions, such as the time the Black Sand Creek Pearl Farm's superintendent came to petition for relief from bandits.
"The duck demons are back," complained the freshwater pearl mussel spirit. "They keep diving down to dig out the mussels. We've confirmed that they're selling them to humans both for the pearls and as food. But every time the frog guards give chase, the ducks just flap across the border into Baron Claymouth's fief, and then we can't do anything!"
Donning a grave expression, the dragon intoned, "That is serious indeed, Nacre."
Coiled on his right, Nagi hissed. "This is an outrage! Your Majesty, we must act quickly and decisively. Shall I send for the captains?"
"Do so," ordered the dragon.
She waved her tail at a young crab messenger, who scuttled off down the tunnel.
By now, I'd learned that pearls played a critical role in the underwater economy. Not only did their essence provide food for water spirits, but, once drained, the larger pearls served as emblems of authority and the tiny ones as currency. That meant that the duck demons' actions were the equivalent of human bandits attacking gold mines. How would the dragon king deal with this situation? How would I deal with this situation? As I ran through options in my head, Captain Carpa arrived and made her bow.
The dragon frowned. "Where is Captain Carpio?" he asked the crab.
"Apologies, Your Majesty," she chirped, clicking her claws together. "I was unable to find him."
Straightening, Captain Carpa spoke up. "It is regrettable, Your Majesty, but my colleague is often difficult to locate when there are urgent matters at stake." Her tone insinuated that he spent his shifts frolicking on the surface or carousing in underwater pubs.
Nagi hissed again, and Captain Carpa's thick lips curved into a smug grin.
"Well," fretted the dragon. "Well, I suppose that can't be helped. Find him and tell him to come here at once," he ordered the crab. As it scurried off, he turned back to the carp. "Captain, the duck demons are robbing the pearl farm again. I thought I told you to double the guard. Why is it still happening?"
Hmm, yes, doubling the guard was a good first step. That's what I would do too, just for a few weeks. After that, I'd report to Cassius that our splendid show of force had driven off the bandits like the cowards they were, so now it was safe to decrease the guard. Paying them was so expensive, and we mustn't waste money, isn't that right, Imperial Treasurer…? The Imperial Treasurer would glare at me but swallow his counterarguments, Cassius would agree, we'd transfer the guards elsewhere, and then of course the bandits would return and we'd repeat the whole cycle. Fiscal uncertainty worked wonders for the economy.
Oh, wait. The goal here wasn't to destroy the Water Court. Right.
Captain Carpa was sweeping another bow. "Regrettably, recruitment has been down this moon. Perhaps if we offer additional inducements – a salary increase, for example – we might be able to make the position more attractive to young spirits."
Nagi reproved her, "That's what you said last moon too, when you requested extra funding. A request that we granted, may I remind you."
Captain Carpa waved her fin in a helpless gesture. "Alas, it appears that the inducements were insufficient."
I had my own suspicions about why that had been the case. Captain Carpa was exactly the sort of oily, corrupt creature that I used to employ.
Nagi was about to interrogate her further when loud, swooshing sounds from the tunnel interrupted. An agitated Captain Carpio burst into the audience chamber. Catching sight of his colleague, who looked as if she'd already been here for some time and was deeply involved in a very important conference, he blustered, "Your Majesty! I was escorting the courier down to the Eastern Sea. I came as soon as I heard!"
Him, I actually believed.
"Nacre informed us that the duck demons are robbing the pearl farm again," Nagi summarized for him. "Captain Carpa reports that she has had trouble with recruitment and hence cannot double the guard. What do you know of the matter?"
Captain Carpio spat a stream of bubbles at Captain Carpa. "Prime Minister, I've warned you over and over that Carpa is incompetent. Plus everyone and their unawakened cousins know that she embezzles."
"Says the bully who swaggers into pubs and expects free food and drink 'for his service'," she snorted. She even managed to make air quotes (water quotes?) with her fins.
"You – !" Captain Carpio flung himself at her, biting at her sides with his pointy teeth.
Whirling, she whacked him away with her tail, then lunged for his fins.
The dragon and Nagi didn't even look startled, although Nacre did burrow partway into the floor.
What kind of court was this? No matter how much Marcius and his allies had hated me, none of them would ever have punched me in the throne room. And I would never have bitten them either. Not in the throne room, anyway.
I found myself swimming around and around my cage in tight, agitated circles and forced myself to stop. How about mercenaries? I suggested.
No one heard. The dragon was rubbing his temples, Nagi was flicking her tongue in irritation, and each captain was trying to maim the other into retirement.
Thrusting my head through the bars, I yelled, How about hiring mercenaries!
A shocked silence fell over the audience chamber. The two carp broke apart, fins torn, teeth bared. Nacre stopped burrowing and poked the lip of his shell out of his hole. The dragon and Nagi gaped at me. Had these water spirits never heard of mercenaries?
Umm, you know, they're professional guards you can hire for money?
They kept staring.
Hmm, maybe it wasn't because they'd never heard of mercenaries. Maybe it was the opposite. Clearing my throat, I elaborated, It sounds like Black Sand Creek has a cash flow problem, but surely this expense is a good investment for preventing future raids. Even if the presence of mercenaries tends to cause other problems, I'd still say it's a reasonable stopgap measure, and I urge Your Majesty to – eek!
The dragon had swept up my cage. Cradling it in the crook of one foreleg, he stuck a claw through the bars and stroked my forehead. "Aren't you cute!" he cried. "Aren't you just the cutest, smartest, prettiest little catfish in the world!"
Uhhhh…. Did that mean he intended to implement my proposal?
He held up the cage so Nacre could get a good look at me. "Isn't she just the smartest?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," agreed the mussel obediently.
"Mercenaries are a terrible idea," Captain Carpio told the dragon without a glance in my direction. "They're overpriced to start with, and they always demand more and more pay. And then they raid you if you don't cave in."
Not always – I tried to defend my idea, but the dragon cut me off by thumping my cage back onto the table.
Ignoring me, he turned to Captain Carpa. "And you? What are your thoughts?"
She hesitated for so long that I thought she was genuinely considering it. At last, she squeezed out a reluctant, "I agree with my colleague."
Oh. She just didn't want to go on record as agreeing with her rival on anything.
Wait, Your Majesty, I think you should –
He talked right over me. "Nagi? Thoughts?"
I stuck my fins between the bars and flapped them, trying to catch her eye, but the snake didn't look at me either. "I agree with the captains. Mercenaries are too expensive and too risky. It would be more advisable to increase the recruitment budget for the next moon."
If they were going to funnel more money into Captain Carpa's metaphorical pockets anyway, then why not at least try to negotiate with a mercenary captain? It might be cheaper. And it definitely would be more effective. Your Majesty –
The dragon lifted his chin, letting the other spirits see his pearl. "Then it is decided. Thank you for bringing this matter to Our attention," he told Nacre. "We shall see to the better defense of Our pearl farm."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Crawling out of his hole, the mussel galumphed out of the audience chamber on his one foot.
"Come up with a recruitment plan and present it to us tomorrow," Nagi ordered the captains, who glared at each other. "You are dismissed."
On the way out, Captain Carpio shoved ahead of Captain Carpa, who made a show of wincing and clapping a fin to her side.
As soon as the door closed behind them, I threw myself against the bars of my cage. Look, Your Majesty, I still think you should consider at least contacting a mercenary captain and getting a sense of their rates –
Sticking out a claw, the dragon tickled me under the chin. "Isn't she so smart?" he marveled to Nagi. "How did she get so smart?"
She puffed up with pride. "I am glad that my humble gift is so pleasing to Your Majesty."
The dragon scooped up the cage again and admired me through the bars. "So pretty too. Such a pretty catfish. Aren't you the prettiest little catfish in the world? Yes you are!"
I gave up. At least I was earning karma for all the happiness I was bringing him, right?
A/N 1: If anyone is wondering about the poem, it's a bad adaption of this one by Bai Juyi.
A/N 2: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
Chapter 11: Dragon Boats and Duck Demons
Chapter 11: Dragon Boats and Duck Demons
And so the days passed, and I grew bigger and fatter in my cage, with no responsibilities besides making the dragon happy. Which was easy, since no matter what I did, he thought it was the cutest thing ever.
Mooncloud sweeps her tail from side to side as she swims? Ooooh, isn't that the sleekest, shiniest tail you ever saw?
Mooncloud balked at eating her water bugs this morning? Aww, look at that scrunched-up little face! Servants, go catch some fresh bugs at once.
Mooncloud got startled by a loud noise and clicked her fin? How rhythmic! When she awakens, she'll be a musician for sure. Should we get her started on drums or the flute or the lute or…?
Sometimes his endless (and endlessly extravagant) praise exhausted me, but overall, I resigned myself to it. Enduring his raptures seemed like a minor price to pay for all the karma I had to be earning. After all, my actions had utility for not just an ordinary human being, but a dragon king. That had to be worth more to Heaven's Accountants.
Now, if only the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek ranked high enough to report to the Ministry of Weather in person. If he had, I could have coaxed him into taking me along and then snuck off to the Bureau of Reincarnation to check my curriculum vitae. But sadly, he submitted monthly updates via crab messenger to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea, who was the one who actually flew up to Heaven.
I started to scheme how to get noticed by that dragon.
Before I could make much headway, though, Nagi announced at one morning audience, "It's the beginning of the Dragon Moon, Your Majesty. What are your wishes regarding the Meeting of the Dragon Host?"
At her words, I perked up and pushed my face between the bars, listening as hard as I could. Every year, the Dragon Commander held a conference in Heaven at the end of this moon and doled out rain assignments for the growing season. Here was my chance to see Flicker!
Frowning over a long, tedious report from Captain Carpa, the dragon started. "So soon? Yes, I suppose the water temperature has risen, hasn't it?" He thought for a moment, then shrugged. "See to the usual preparations."
"Yes, Your Majesty." He picked up the report again, but Nagi cleared her throat and continued, "Also, tomorrow is the Dragon Boat Festival in Your honor. I have already instructed the chefs to prepare the usual banquet and directed the crabs to bring the tables out of storage and to send invitations to Your vassals…but did you want to invite Lord Silurus?"
The dragon winced. "Absolutely not. He's a demon and a psychopath."
Nagi didn't speak for so long that the dragon realized he'd given the wrong answer.
"Look, Nagi, I know you don't want me to offend him, but he's as likely to eat the other guests as he is the banquet dishes. More likely, in fact."
Again, her silence conveyed deep disapproval, but the dragon met her gaze steadily. Who was Lord Silurus? Despite spending every day in the audience chamber with the dragon, I hadn't seen a Lord Silurus, although I'd heard grumbles about how he snapped at shrimp patrols who approached his cave. The dragon's response had been to pull them back rather than risk a confrontation.
"Is it wise to antagonize him?" Nagi prompted, nodding at the document in his claws. "You've read the captains' reports. If we can't even fight off a flock of ducks, how can we stand against Lord Silurus if he chooses to…express his displeasure?"
For once, the dragon refused to be prompted. He lifted his chin to display his pearl. "Be that as it may, I'm not having him at my banquet." As his final, clinching argument, he declared, "Anyway, catfish are cannibalistic. He might eat Mooncloud."
A flick of Nagi's tongue said that that very much did not factor into her calculations, but she dropped the topic.
And so, when water spirits began to pour into the Black Sand Creek Water Court to celebrate the Dragon Boat Festival, there was no catfish demon among them. Scores of other catfish came swooshing into the audience chamber, though, alongside plump carp and skinny loaches, pop-eyed gobies and softshell turtles. I counted six families of shrimp and crabs, as well as Nagi's water snake relatives, who got their own table. Apart from Lord Silurus and a handful of shrimp who were on duty (new recruits plus veterans who'd offended one or both of the captains), all of the dragon's vassals were here.
For the occasion, the audience chamber had been transformed into a banquet hall, seating chart courtesy of Nagi. Once all spirits had made their obeisance and sat down, the dragon touched his pearl and cast a vision of the riverbanks onto the walls. Music and chatter filled the water, and we were surrounded by farmers staking out shady spots where they could watch the dragon boat race; fisherfolk helping townspeople onto their sampans for the best view; and children running wild, clutching toys and sweets. It was a familiar scene, one that I'd witnessed hundreds of times as a fox – but something felt off.
Something that set my fins on edge. What was it?
The humans weren't acting any differently from their ancestors, and their musical instruments and foods looked similar too – wait. Wait, wait, wait. What was wrong with their legs?
Why were the men wearing crude, belted tunics that came down to their knees and left their calves naked?
During Cassius' reign, men, human and spirit alike, wore long robes belted with sashes. Only the poorest, hungriest beggars went bare-legged.
Wincing, I studied the women next. They were dressed in ankle-length versions of the tunic. Some had embroidered geometric patterns at the wrists, necklines, and hems, or sewn on bands of different colored fabric for decoration – but that was it.
Where were the filmy scarves and floating waist skirts? Where were the knotted silk cords and jade pendants? Assuming that these humans were decked out in their finest, had the standard of living really plummeted so far?
A wasteland dominated by thieves, demons, and petty warlords, Lady Fate had called Serica, and I was starting to see why.
But the humans didn't seem to notice their own poverty. They laughed and chatted and called out to friends as they unwrapped fist-sized bamboo-leaf packages. Peeking out from between the leaves were – sticky rice dumplings. Whew. Thank goodness that hadn't changed. As a spirit, I hadn't needed to eat human food, but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy it, and the palace chefs had stuffed the dumplings with pork belly, black mushrooms, tiny dried shrimp, peanuts, chestnuts, and salted duck eggs. At the memory, my stomach rumbled.
"Don't worry, Mooncloud," whispered the dragon out of the side of his mouth. "You'll get a dumpling too."
My eyes kept returning to a little girl with a flute tucked into one pocket. She was devouring a sweet dumpling so fast that she smeared red bean paste all over her nose. I'd liked red bean paste dumplings too. Back when I was –
Horrified, I cut myself off, but it was too late. I had the dragon's full attention.
"Yes, Mooncloud? Back when you were what?"
Frantic, I waggled my whole body, swinging it from side to side. Nothing, Your Majesty! Nothing! I don't know what I was saying!
"It didn't sound like nothing – "
It was Nagi who saved me. She chose that moment to signal to the crab servants, who scuttled in with trays of bamboo-leaf packages on their backs. The water spirits' applause drowned out their lord, and I cheered along as I got my own miniature version. Flashing me a grin, the dragon undid the twine and peeled back the bamboo leaves with a flourish, revealing a dumpling made from seed pearls. Holding up the plate so everyone could see, he took the first ceremonial whiff.
"Let the banquet begin!" he shouted.
All around us on the walls, the humans also broke into whoops. Two skinny boats, holding twelve people each, were parading down the river from the start of the course to the finish line. When they passed in front of the baron and his family, I noted that the nobles' clothing, at least, was silk. But their jewelry – ugh! It was just clunky gold brooches set with semiprecious stones, and not even well-cut stones at that. What was the point of wearing jewelry when it wasn't good jewelry?
Meanwhile, the dragon boat teams turned and paddled back upriver.
"They repainted that one," a softshell turtle at a nearby table commented. She stuck out her long neck and pointed her head at a red-and-yellow boat. "It looks more like a dragon now."
Given that the prow resembled a pig's head with horns and scales, I couldn't imagine how bad it had been before its makeover.
"They gilded it too," noted the frog sitting across from her. "The barony must be doing well."
Another frog, who sat with his spine as straight as a walking stick, grated out, "Probably from selling our pearl mussels."
His companions fell silent as they contemplated the gaudy boats.
"Well," said the softshell turtle at last, "at least it looks impressive. At least they used the money to pay homage to our king."
"Yes," agreed the others.
Far upriver, near the edges of the dragon's vision, a flock of whistling ducks was collecting on the banks. Wondering whether these were the duck demons, I looked around for Nacre. The mussel didn't have eyes, but the opening of his shell was pointed at the ducks and his whole body was quivering with rage.
As for the captains, they were presiding over tables on opposite sides of the dragon's. Captain Carpio was trumpeting reasons that one of the teams would win, while Captain Carpa was assuring her tablemates that preparations for security while the dragon king was away were well in hand. Neither of them noticed the ducks.
"Paddles up!" bellowed the steerers, and the teams both tensed. The drummers raised their sticks.
A gong rang out, and the dragon boats were off, dozens of paddles churning the water and throwing spray onto the sampans. Townsfolk shrieked and covered their heads, while fisherfolk hooted with laughter. Waving flags, the steerers shouted commands to the paddlers. The drums thudded like pounding hearts to keep them on time, and pairs of children banged gongs and crashed cymbals to throw off the other boat's rhythm. A lot of betting had been going on both above and below the water, and the dumplings sat forgotten as everyone cheered on their boat.
No one was paying any attention to the ducks now, not even Nacre, who was rocking back and forth on his chair and whooping. Only I noticed when the ducks waddled down the riverbank and dove into the water one by one. Should I warn the dragon?
I looked up at him, but he was leaning forward, digging his claws into his armrests, eyes fixed on the race unfolding along the walls. Nagi had half-risen from her seat, tongue licking out in excitement. Captain Carpio was roaring at his boat to "Go faster! Go faster!" while Captain Carpa watched him.
Halfway down the course, the dragon boats were neck to neck. One would pull about a foot ahead, then the other would catch up and pass it, and then the first would inch past it again. Children were jumping up and down, shrieking, while their parents pumped their fists and yelled at the teams.
The ducks resurfaced, a mussel in each one's beak. They deposited their loot in a basket hidden among the reeds and dove again.
About to call out to the dragon, I clamped my mouth shut. Nacre had reported that the ducks were selling the mussels to humans, both as food and for the pearls. From what the turtle and the frogs had just said, the trade in shellfish was enriching the barony. So the question was: What was worth more karma? Helping the dragon king or the human baron? Which one did Heaven value more?
It wasn't obvious. One was a dragon king – but of such low rank that he only got to visit Heaven once a year for a general conference. The other was a mere baron – but Flicker had said specifically that I got karma for acts that benefited humans.
As I argued back and forth with myself, the dragon boats approached the finish line. The baron and his sons watched with silent intensity, while his wife and daughters flapped handkerchiefs like signal flags. Next to them, their guest of honor, the Green Frog, hopped up and down on his chair, all dignity forgotten.
I was already earning karma for being the dragon's pet, I thought. Better to hedge my bets and help the humans here, albeit indirectly. That same indirectness would also shield me from (massive) repercussions if it turned out that Heaven valued the dragon much more highly. Decision made, I turned back to the race.
The paddlers were slick with water and sweat, jaws clenched, muscles straining, as they summoned one last burst of strength. One prow inched past the other, then the other pulled ahead, cymbals clashed, gongs banged, drums pounded, the steerers shook their flags and shouted themselves hoarse, their voices nearly drowned out by the splashing and the cymbals and the gongs and the screaming from the riverbanks – and then one prow glided across the finish line a dragon-head's length ahead of the other. Everyone exploded into cheers.
One duck picked up the basket in its beak, and the whole flock waddled back up the riverbank and out of sight.
"Whew!" cried the dragon, falling back into his chair. "That was close!"
"Indeed, Majesty," agreed the spirits around him. "We've never seen a closer race."
"At least neither boat capsized this year," a catfish was saying. She'd obviously bet on the losing team, because she finished inhaling the essence from her dumpling and pushed the plate at her neighbor, an oversized shrimp. Grinning, he swept the seed pearls into a pouch and tied the strings shut. That scene was repeated all over the audience chamber, accompanied by good-natured grumbling and ribbing.
Captain Carpio was crowing over his winnings and bragging about how he'd known which team to bet on from the steerer's facial structure. "I saw that wide forehead and those full lips, and I knew he'd win!"
Captain Carpa, on the other hand, was tucking away a bulging pouch, her own thick lips curved up in a smirk.
After the dragon boat race, our banquet continued, with performances by traveling carp and more dishes, a mix of seed pearls and seafood to provide both spiritual essence and variety of taste and texture. As dusk fell on the river, we watched the teams deck their boats with lanterns and slowly paddle them back to the boathouse. In their wake, the humans lit lanterns shaped like lotus flowers and set them afloat. They bobbed on the currents, yellow blossoms on black water, and the dragon expanded his vision so we could follow them as they drifted all the way down the river and out to sea.
As I watched them vanish into the bright, white moonlight that spilled across the waves, I thought of Cassius' court and our Dragon Boat Festival. Our version had been grander in scale, certainly, but the broad outlines were all here today, in this simple ceremony on a river no one in the capital had ever heard of. Nightfall erased the details of the humans' clothing, so different from the styles I was used to, and as the last lantern winked out of sight, I felt an indescribable mix of yearning for the world I'd known and relief that, in the end, traces of it still remained.
A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
And so the days passed, and I grew bigger and fatter in my cage, with no responsibilities besides making the dragon happy. Which was easy, since no matter what I did, he thought it was the cutest thing ever.
Mooncloud sweeps her tail from side to side as she swims? Ooooh, isn't that the sleekest, shiniest tail you ever saw?
Mooncloud balked at eating her water bugs this morning? Aww, look at that scrunched-up little face! Servants, go catch some fresh bugs at once.
Mooncloud got startled by a loud noise and clicked her fin? How rhythmic! When she awakens, she'll be a musician for sure. Should we get her started on drums or the flute or the lute or…?
Sometimes his endless (and endlessly extravagant) praise exhausted me, but overall, I resigned myself to it. Enduring his raptures seemed like a minor price to pay for all the karma I had to be earning. After all, my actions had utility for not just an ordinary human being, but a dragon king. That had to be worth more to Heaven's Accountants.
Now, if only the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek ranked high enough to report to the Ministry of Weather in person. If he had, I could have coaxed him into taking me along and then snuck off to the Bureau of Reincarnation to check my curriculum vitae. But sadly, he submitted monthly updates via crab messenger to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea, who was the one who actually flew up to Heaven.
I started to scheme how to get noticed by that dragon.
Before I could make much headway, though, Nagi announced at one morning audience, "It's the beginning of the Dragon Moon, Your Majesty. What are your wishes regarding the Meeting of the Dragon Host?"
At her words, I perked up and pushed my face between the bars, listening as hard as I could. Every year, the Dragon Commander held a conference in Heaven at the end of this moon and doled out rain assignments for the growing season. Here was my chance to see Flicker!
Frowning over a long, tedious report from Captain Carpa, the dragon started. "So soon? Yes, I suppose the water temperature has risen, hasn't it?" He thought for a moment, then shrugged. "See to the usual preparations."
"Yes, Your Majesty." He picked up the report again, but Nagi cleared her throat and continued, "Also, tomorrow is the Dragon Boat Festival in Your honor. I have already instructed the chefs to prepare the usual banquet and directed the crabs to bring the tables out of storage and to send invitations to Your vassals…but did you want to invite Lord Silurus?"
The dragon winced. "Absolutely not. He's a demon and a psychopath."
Nagi didn't speak for so long that the dragon realized he'd given the wrong answer.
"Look, Nagi, I know you don't want me to offend him, but he's as likely to eat the other guests as he is the banquet dishes. More likely, in fact."
Again, her silence conveyed deep disapproval, but the dragon met her gaze steadily. Who was Lord Silurus? Despite spending every day in the audience chamber with the dragon, I hadn't seen a Lord Silurus, although I'd heard grumbles about how he snapped at shrimp patrols who approached his cave. The dragon's response had been to pull them back rather than risk a confrontation.
"Is it wise to antagonize him?" Nagi prompted, nodding at the document in his claws. "You've read the captains' reports. If we can't even fight off a flock of ducks, how can we stand against Lord Silurus if he chooses to…express his displeasure?"
For once, the dragon refused to be prompted. He lifted his chin to display his pearl. "Be that as it may, I'm not having him at my banquet." As his final, clinching argument, he declared, "Anyway, catfish are cannibalistic. He might eat Mooncloud."
A flick of Nagi's tongue said that that very much did not factor into her calculations, but she dropped the topic.
And so, when water spirits began to pour into the Black Sand Creek Water Court to celebrate the Dragon Boat Festival, there was no catfish demon among them. Scores of other catfish came swooshing into the audience chamber, though, alongside plump carp and skinny loaches, pop-eyed gobies and softshell turtles. I counted six families of shrimp and crabs, as well as Nagi's water snake relatives, who got their own table. Apart from Lord Silurus and a handful of shrimp who were on duty (new recruits plus veterans who'd offended one or both of the captains), all of the dragon's vassals were here.
For the occasion, the audience chamber had been transformed into a banquet hall, seating chart courtesy of Nagi. Once all spirits had made their obeisance and sat down, the dragon touched his pearl and cast a vision of the riverbanks onto the walls. Music and chatter filled the water, and we were surrounded by farmers staking out shady spots where they could watch the dragon boat race; fisherfolk helping townspeople onto their sampans for the best view; and children running wild, clutching toys and sweets. It was a familiar scene, one that I'd witnessed hundreds of times as a fox – but something felt off.
Something that set my fins on edge. What was it?
The humans weren't acting any differently from their ancestors, and their musical instruments and foods looked similar too – wait. Wait, wait, wait. What was wrong with their legs?
Why were the men wearing crude, belted tunics that came down to their knees and left their calves naked?
During Cassius' reign, men, human and spirit alike, wore long robes belted with sashes. Only the poorest, hungriest beggars went bare-legged.
Wincing, I studied the women next. They were dressed in ankle-length versions of the tunic. Some had embroidered geometric patterns at the wrists, necklines, and hems, or sewn on bands of different colored fabric for decoration – but that was it.
Where were the filmy scarves and floating waist skirts? Where were the knotted silk cords and jade pendants? Assuming that these humans were decked out in their finest, had the standard of living really plummeted so far?
A wasteland dominated by thieves, demons, and petty warlords, Lady Fate had called Serica, and I was starting to see why.
But the humans didn't seem to notice their own poverty. They laughed and chatted and called out to friends as they unwrapped fist-sized bamboo-leaf packages. Peeking out from between the leaves were – sticky rice dumplings. Whew. Thank goodness that hadn't changed. As a spirit, I hadn't needed to eat human food, but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy it, and the palace chefs had stuffed the dumplings with pork belly, black mushrooms, tiny dried shrimp, peanuts, chestnuts, and salted duck eggs. At the memory, my stomach rumbled.
"Don't worry, Mooncloud," whispered the dragon out of the side of his mouth. "You'll get a dumpling too."
My eyes kept returning to a little girl with a flute tucked into one pocket. She was devouring a sweet dumpling so fast that she smeared red bean paste all over her nose. I'd liked red bean paste dumplings too. Back when I was –
Horrified, I cut myself off, but it was too late. I had the dragon's full attention.
"Yes, Mooncloud? Back when you were what?"
Frantic, I waggled my whole body, swinging it from side to side. Nothing, Your Majesty! Nothing! I don't know what I was saying!
"It didn't sound like nothing – "
It was Nagi who saved me. She chose that moment to signal to the crab servants, who scuttled in with trays of bamboo-leaf packages on their backs. The water spirits' applause drowned out their lord, and I cheered along as I got my own miniature version. Flashing me a grin, the dragon undid the twine and peeled back the bamboo leaves with a flourish, revealing a dumpling made from seed pearls. Holding up the plate so everyone could see, he took the first ceremonial whiff.
"Let the banquet begin!" he shouted.
All around us on the walls, the humans also broke into whoops. Two skinny boats, holding twelve people each, were parading down the river from the start of the course to the finish line. When they passed in front of the baron and his family, I noted that the nobles' clothing, at least, was silk. But their jewelry – ugh! It was just clunky gold brooches set with semiprecious stones, and not even well-cut stones at that. What was the point of wearing jewelry when it wasn't good jewelry?
Meanwhile, the dragon boat teams turned and paddled back upriver.
"They repainted that one," a softshell turtle at a nearby table commented. She stuck out her long neck and pointed her head at a red-and-yellow boat. "It looks more like a dragon now."
Given that the prow resembled a pig's head with horns and scales, I couldn't imagine how bad it had been before its makeover.
"They gilded it too," noted the frog sitting across from her. "The barony must be doing well."
Another frog, who sat with his spine as straight as a walking stick, grated out, "Probably from selling our pearl mussels."
His companions fell silent as they contemplated the gaudy boats.
"Well," said the softshell turtle at last, "at least it looks impressive. At least they used the money to pay homage to our king."
"Yes," agreed the others.
Far upriver, near the edges of the dragon's vision, a flock of whistling ducks was collecting on the banks. Wondering whether these were the duck demons, I looked around for Nacre. The mussel didn't have eyes, but the opening of his shell was pointed at the ducks and his whole body was quivering with rage.
As for the captains, they were presiding over tables on opposite sides of the dragon's. Captain Carpio was trumpeting reasons that one of the teams would win, while Captain Carpa was assuring her tablemates that preparations for security while the dragon king was away were well in hand. Neither of them noticed the ducks.
"Paddles up!" bellowed the steerers, and the teams both tensed. The drummers raised their sticks.
A gong rang out, and the dragon boats were off, dozens of paddles churning the water and throwing spray onto the sampans. Townsfolk shrieked and covered their heads, while fisherfolk hooted with laughter. Waving flags, the steerers shouted commands to the paddlers. The drums thudded like pounding hearts to keep them on time, and pairs of children banged gongs and crashed cymbals to throw off the other boat's rhythm. A lot of betting had been going on both above and below the water, and the dumplings sat forgotten as everyone cheered on their boat.
No one was paying any attention to the ducks now, not even Nacre, who was rocking back and forth on his chair and whooping. Only I noticed when the ducks waddled down the riverbank and dove into the water one by one. Should I warn the dragon?
I looked up at him, but he was leaning forward, digging his claws into his armrests, eyes fixed on the race unfolding along the walls. Nagi had half-risen from her seat, tongue licking out in excitement. Captain Carpio was roaring at his boat to "Go faster! Go faster!" while Captain Carpa watched him.
Halfway down the course, the dragon boats were neck to neck. One would pull about a foot ahead, then the other would catch up and pass it, and then the first would inch past it again. Children were jumping up and down, shrieking, while their parents pumped their fists and yelled at the teams.
The ducks resurfaced, a mussel in each one's beak. They deposited their loot in a basket hidden among the reeds and dove again.
About to call out to the dragon, I clamped my mouth shut. Nacre had reported that the ducks were selling the mussels to humans, both as food and for the pearls. From what the turtle and the frogs had just said, the trade in shellfish was enriching the barony. So the question was: What was worth more karma? Helping the dragon king or the human baron? Which one did Heaven value more?
It wasn't obvious. One was a dragon king – but of such low rank that he only got to visit Heaven once a year for a general conference. The other was a mere baron – but Flicker had said specifically that I got karma for acts that benefited humans.
As I argued back and forth with myself, the dragon boats approached the finish line. The baron and his sons watched with silent intensity, while his wife and daughters flapped handkerchiefs like signal flags. Next to them, their guest of honor, the Green Frog, hopped up and down on his chair, all dignity forgotten.
I was already earning karma for being the dragon's pet, I thought. Better to hedge my bets and help the humans here, albeit indirectly. That same indirectness would also shield me from (massive) repercussions if it turned out that Heaven valued the dragon much more highly. Decision made, I turned back to the race.
The paddlers were slick with water and sweat, jaws clenched, muscles straining, as they summoned one last burst of strength. One prow inched past the other, then the other pulled ahead, cymbals clashed, gongs banged, drums pounded, the steerers shook their flags and shouted themselves hoarse, their voices nearly drowned out by the splashing and the cymbals and the gongs and the screaming from the riverbanks – and then one prow glided across the finish line a dragon-head's length ahead of the other. Everyone exploded into cheers.
One duck picked up the basket in its beak, and the whole flock waddled back up the riverbank and out of sight.
"Whew!" cried the dragon, falling back into his chair. "That was close!"
"Indeed, Majesty," agreed the spirits around him. "We've never seen a closer race."
"At least neither boat capsized this year," a catfish was saying. She'd obviously bet on the losing team, because she finished inhaling the essence from her dumpling and pushed the plate at her neighbor, an oversized shrimp. Grinning, he swept the seed pearls into a pouch and tied the strings shut. That scene was repeated all over the audience chamber, accompanied by good-natured grumbling and ribbing.
Captain Carpio was crowing over his winnings and bragging about how he'd known which team to bet on from the steerer's facial structure. "I saw that wide forehead and those full lips, and I knew he'd win!"
Captain Carpa, on the other hand, was tucking away a bulging pouch, her own thick lips curved up in a smirk.
After the dragon boat race, our banquet continued, with performances by traveling carp and more dishes, a mix of seed pearls and seafood to provide both spiritual essence and variety of taste and texture. As dusk fell on the river, we watched the teams deck their boats with lanterns and slowly paddle them back to the boathouse. In their wake, the humans lit lanterns shaped like lotus flowers and set them afloat. They bobbed on the currents, yellow blossoms on black water, and the dragon expanded his vision so we could follow them as they drifted all the way down the river and out to sea.
As I watched them vanish into the bright, white moonlight that spilled across the waves, I thought of Cassius' court and our Dragon Boat Festival. Our version had been grander in scale, certainly, but the broad outlines were all here today, in this simple ceremony on a river no one in the capital had ever heard of. Nightfall erased the details of the humans' clothing, so different from the styles I was used to, and as the last lantern winked out of sight, I felt an indescribable mix of yearning for the world I'd known and relief that, in the end, traces of it still remained.
A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
Chapter 12: The Meeting of the Dragon Host
Chapter 12: The Meeting of the Dragon Host
"Mooncloud, look," whispered the dragon, "there's the Palace of the Hundred Stars. That's where all the star gods live. And that's the Palace of the Moon, for Lady Chang and the Jade Rabbit and the Cassia Tree Spirit, and those are the Heavenly Gardens for all the gods and goddesses to enjoy, and that's the Palace of the North Star!" Near the end, his voice rose, earning him a scathing look from Nagi.
I couldn't (entirely) blame him, though. As part of the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea's retinue, we were allowed to parade through the main entrance instead of slinking in the side door for prisoners and lesser gods. From the front, Heaven was a more impressive sight by far.
As we passed under the main gate, with its cloud-white columns and nine sapphire roofs, we could see down a broad avenue lined with palaces, pavilions, and pagodas. Elegant gardens were arrayed on either side, their jade-green lakes dotted with lily pads and reflecting the willows. In the distance, surrounded by a white wall, lay an orchard of peach trees that drooped with fruit. And behind that, on the far side, where all paths ended, loomed the complex known as the Palace of the North Star, the seat of the Jade Emperor. That was where you'd find the Hall of Purple Mists.
And the execution plaza.
But we weren't headed there today. The Dragon King of the Eastern Sea led our procession halfway down the avenue before turning off towards the Sky Breeze Pavilion. Contrary to its peaceful name, we entered to find a hive of activity as star sprite clerks checked off new arrivals' names on floor-length scrolls, directed dragons and their ministers and their servants to the appropriate suites, and called for imp bellhops to record and deliver all the luggage. The Sky Breeze Pavilion had four wings, and we were assigned to – what else? – the east wing.
"Aaaah," sighed my dragon once we'd settled in and he was relaxing by the window. "Aaaaaah."
I expected him to follow up with some comment about how utterly amazing the view was, but he didn't. He just nodded for Nagi to move a lacquered side table next to him for my cage. When we'd first risen from the Eastern Sea in the parade of dragons, I'd wondered whether I were going to suffocate and see Flicker again that way – but I hadn't. Apparently Heaven's awesome might extended to enabling mortal fish to swim through and breathe air.
Now, if I could just figure out how to unlatch my cage door….
"Your Majesty, we should review Your schedule for this evening and tomorrow." Nagi slithered over the carpet, looking ill at ease. She started to coil up on a chair, then winced when her scales snagged the cushion's silk embroidery. Holding herself absolutely still, she rattled off the events planned for the welcome banquet tonight (speeches, performances, and more speeches), and the keynote speaker and sessions for the conference tomorrow.
The dragon barely heard her. He was moping, staring moodily out the window into a tiny side garden. Its pocket-sized pond was overgrown with lotus leaves, but none of the buds had opened yet. It was too early in the year for lotus blossoms, even up here in Heaven. Perhaps especially up here in Heaven, with all its rules and regulations. I'd bet even the plants followed a rigid timetable.
"I wonder how the rolling droughts will affect us," muttered the dragon. "We got assigned decent rainfall last year…but that probably means we're due for a drought this year."
Rolling droughts?
Nagi bobbed her head, making sure not to move any part of her body in contact with the cushion. "That's why You must speak to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea!" she exhorted him. "Make him remember us so he'll advocate for us!"
At the mention of his liege lord, the dragon slunk down in his chair, his scales leaving scratches across the varnish. Nagi cringed.
"I suppose I should," he agreed, sounding unhappy. "He wasn't impressed by the pearls we brought, though."
The first part of this conference had involved traveling to the crystal palace at the bottom of the sea, where all the minor dragons congregated to pay homage to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea before following him up to Heaven. Lounging on his coral throne, he'd barely glanced at the pouch of slightly-larger-than-seed pearls that my dragon had presented.
Remembering the same thing, Nagi went silent for a moment. Then her eyes slid in my direction.
"No!" My dragon shot upright. "I'm not giving him Mooncloud! We talked about this."
"Indeed we did," she agreed, looking as if the two had come away from that discussion with very different conclusions. "It may be our only chance of winning his favor."
The dragon shook his head, his greasy mane flapping against his snout. He blew a strand out of his eyes. "No," he repeated. "Absolutely not. He has too many pets. He'd never treasure her the way we do."
Nagi's tongue flicked a couple times, but she dropped the topic.
I went back to studying the latch on my cage.
Although the dragon would have loved to sneak me into the welcome banquet, etiquette (and Nagi) prevailed, and he left me in our suite along with strict instructions to the crabs to "take as good care of her as We Ourselves would." Given that they were the ones who fed me and cleaned my cage every day, I wasn't sure how much weight that injunction carried. At any rate, they were too busy dangling out the window to gawk at the pond. Unobserved, I stuck a fin out of my cage and niggled at the latch until it clicked open. Success!
With a glance at the crabs' backs, I edged the door open, glided out, nudged the door shut, and dove under a chair. Annoyingly, all the furniture here was rosewood carved with open latticework – attractive, yes, luxurious, yes, but not great for hiding. Hovering just beneath the seat, I peeked around a chair leg and waited for someone to open the hallway door. Eventually, a crab noticed that I was missing, and all of them panicked. Three started clambering up side tables and searching vases, while three more scuttled into the hallway to question the imps. While the crabs were hauling one another up a particularly tall vase, I darted out from under my chair, ducked around a potted plant, slipped behind a screen, and shot out the door.
Part One of Operation Find Flicker was proceeding smoothly. Now for Part Two: locating the Hall of Vermilion Clouds. Was it too much to hope that the conference organizers had set up a directory?
Down the hall I swam, hugging the walls to blend into the shadows. At last, an advantage to being an ugly, dull-grey catfish: None of the star sprites or imps noticed me as they scurried around, finishing up last-minute preparations for tomorrow morning's opening ceremony.
But as I slunk into the atrium, a clerk glanced in my direction. "Excuse me," she called, "may I help you?"
Caught before I could even get out of the building! I froze, scrambling for excuses. I'd tell her I was a servant – I'd tell her that my dragon king had sent me for – for –
Before I could figure out what a dragon might send a fish to fetch, she strode right past me and bowed to a pair of brownish-grey dragons with pale yellow bellies. They were no bigger than rice paddy snakes and had the same coloration.
"How may I be of assistance to Your Highnesses?" asked the clerk.
One of the little dragons stood up on his hind legs and stretched to his full two feet. Arching his neck the way Nagi liked to, he showed off the seed pearl at his throat. "We are the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond," he announced in a thin, piping voice.
"And We are the Dragon King of Sweet Lily Pond," proclaimed the other.
Bowing again, the clerk amended, "My apologies. How may I be of assistance to Your Majesties?"
"We are looking for the Welcome Banquet," Caltrop Pond said, thrusting out his chest.
"We understand that it is to be held in this building," added Sweet Lily Pond.
The clerk smiled, gently. "The banquet is currently going on in the Main Hall," she answered, to the dragons' dismay. Stepping aside, she gestured at the staircase. "It is down these stairs and to your right. I don't believe it has been going on for very long, so if you hurry, you can still find seats."
Still find seats? What happened to the seating chart?
The two little dragons held a whispered conference, at the end of which Caltrop Pond lifted his chin and pronounced, "We thank you for your assistance." Then they hurried across the atrium, at a pace that was not quite a run but was definitely too fast for dignity.
Still smiling, the clerk returned to her colleagues.
"Nice to see they're growing," one commented.
"Did you notice that Sweet Lily Pond's horns are starting to branch at the tips?" asked another.
"Will they really get as big as the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas?" chirped a star child who'd just trotted out of the servants' stairwell.
The older clerks all shook their heads. "No," said the first. "They're pond dragons. Their growth is limited by the size of their ponds."
"Oooh. Poor things."
"Never let a dragon hear you say that," snapped a familiar voice. Out of the stairwell stomped Flicker, glaring at the star child and then the other clerks for good measure. "Never insult a dragon's pride."
"Oh, hi, Flicker," she greeted him, unfazed. "I have a message for you." Rummaging around in her satchel, she handed him a scroll.
With a final scowl, he cracked the seal, skimmed its contents – and gulped. "She's coming tonight? In person?"
The other clerks were crowding around him to read it for themselves.
"But that's not in the schedule," one protested.
"She's not supposed to come until tomorrow."
"We're not ready yet."
"Why didn't her secretary tell us earlier?"
Flicker shook his head, looking resigned to their boss' spontaneity. "She wants to reward us by coming in person to express her gratitude for our hard work."
From the expressions on the clerks' faces, far from acknowledging their efforts, she'd just created more stress and work for them. They started running around the atrium, straightening paintings, shoving paperwork, brushes, and inkstones behind screens, and shooing the messenger child back into the stairwell.
Before they could finish, a fresh, crisp scent like a mountain breeze wafted into the space. A pair of crane maidens danced in and positioned themselves on either side of the main staircase, their black waist skirts and crimson sashes floating around their filmy white gowns (ah, proper clothing at last!). At the sight, all the clerks dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the floor. Light footsteps tapped up the stairs, advancing in clear, regular pattern I recognized.
Oh dear.
I ducked behind a screen. A heartbeat later, the Star of Reflected Brightness entered the atrium.
Aurelia, Cassius' ex-empress and ex-wife (at least, I assumed that having your spouse tortured to death was tantamount to divorcing her), looked much as she had in life. Wide mouth, broad cheeks, ebony eyes that were just a little too small and a tad too close to each other. Deification had smoothed her skin and added a faint, pearly glow, but she couldn't begin to compare to the Goddess of Life. Then again, Cassius' advisers hadn't selected her for her looks, but for her pedigree, political connections, and ability to run the palace behind the scenes. (This was before my time, otherwise I'd have installed a decorative airhead.)
She turned her head deliberately, scanning the atrium and noting that it wasn't fully set up yet. Her gaze settled on Flicker, prostrate in the first row of clerks. "Flicker. You may raise your head."
Flicker obeyed at once, straightening his back until it looked like someone had shoved a walking stick down his spine.
"How are preparations for the conference proceeding?"
"They are proceeding smoothly, my lady." He delivered a concise, precise summary in just the style she favored.
At the end, she smiled down at the backs of the clerks' heads. "Thank you all for your hard work," she told them in the practiced, warm voice she'd used for addressing palace servants. "I know that you have been assigned conference management on top of your regular duties."
For all their grumbling about her surprise visit, the clerks glowed with pride, filling the atrium with golden light.
"Please keep up your hard work."
And, with a nod that only Flicker could see, she turned and disappeared down the stairs, the crane maidens gliding behind her.
Once their breeze had died away, the clerks leaped to their feet and attacked their work with enthusiasm, even though she hadn't promised any rewards or even time off after the conference. Her thanks, it seemed, was sufficient inspiration.
She'd been like that in life, too. The devotion of her ladies-in-waiting and the palace staff, combined with the political influence of her relatives, meant that it had taken me ages to convince Cassius to move against her.
I couldn't help but wonder how they were getting along in Heaven. After all, even if they lived at opposite ends of the Palace of the Hundred Stars – which was by no means guaranteed – they were still neighbors. And while Aurelia was a competent-enough leader, she was no saint. And Cassius was, well, Cassius.
Smirking, I waited until the clerks finished setting up and vanished into the servants' stairwell. Flicker, who seemed to be in charge of operations here, was the last to leave. As he surveyed the atrium one last time, I swam out from behind my screen.
He glimpsed my form and started to frown. "May I help you – "
I didn't let him finish. Hey, Flicker! It's me! I flapped a fin at him, the click-click-click bouncing off the walls.
His jaw dropped. "Piri?"
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"Mooncloud, look," whispered the dragon, "there's the Palace of the Hundred Stars. That's where all the star gods live. And that's the Palace of the Moon, for Lady Chang and the Jade Rabbit and the Cassia Tree Spirit, and those are the Heavenly Gardens for all the gods and goddesses to enjoy, and that's the Palace of the North Star!" Near the end, his voice rose, earning him a scathing look from Nagi.
I couldn't (entirely) blame him, though. As part of the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea's retinue, we were allowed to parade through the main entrance instead of slinking in the side door for prisoners and lesser gods. From the front, Heaven was a more impressive sight by far.
As we passed under the main gate, with its cloud-white columns and nine sapphire roofs, we could see down a broad avenue lined with palaces, pavilions, and pagodas. Elegant gardens were arrayed on either side, their jade-green lakes dotted with lily pads and reflecting the willows. In the distance, surrounded by a white wall, lay an orchard of peach trees that drooped with fruit. And behind that, on the far side, where all paths ended, loomed the complex known as the Palace of the North Star, the seat of the Jade Emperor. That was where you'd find the Hall of Purple Mists.
And the execution plaza.
But we weren't headed there today. The Dragon King of the Eastern Sea led our procession halfway down the avenue before turning off towards the Sky Breeze Pavilion. Contrary to its peaceful name, we entered to find a hive of activity as star sprite clerks checked off new arrivals' names on floor-length scrolls, directed dragons and their ministers and their servants to the appropriate suites, and called for imp bellhops to record and deliver all the luggage. The Sky Breeze Pavilion had four wings, and we were assigned to – what else? – the east wing.
"Aaaah," sighed my dragon once we'd settled in and he was relaxing by the window. "Aaaaaah."
I expected him to follow up with some comment about how utterly amazing the view was, but he didn't. He just nodded for Nagi to move a lacquered side table next to him for my cage. When we'd first risen from the Eastern Sea in the parade of dragons, I'd wondered whether I were going to suffocate and see Flicker again that way – but I hadn't. Apparently Heaven's awesome might extended to enabling mortal fish to swim through and breathe air.
Now, if I could just figure out how to unlatch my cage door….
"Your Majesty, we should review Your schedule for this evening and tomorrow." Nagi slithered over the carpet, looking ill at ease. She started to coil up on a chair, then winced when her scales snagged the cushion's silk embroidery. Holding herself absolutely still, she rattled off the events planned for the welcome banquet tonight (speeches, performances, and more speeches), and the keynote speaker and sessions for the conference tomorrow.
The dragon barely heard her. He was moping, staring moodily out the window into a tiny side garden. Its pocket-sized pond was overgrown with lotus leaves, but none of the buds had opened yet. It was too early in the year for lotus blossoms, even up here in Heaven. Perhaps especially up here in Heaven, with all its rules and regulations. I'd bet even the plants followed a rigid timetable.
"I wonder how the rolling droughts will affect us," muttered the dragon. "We got assigned decent rainfall last year…but that probably means we're due for a drought this year."
Rolling droughts?
Nagi bobbed her head, making sure not to move any part of her body in contact with the cushion. "That's why You must speak to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea!" she exhorted him. "Make him remember us so he'll advocate for us!"
At the mention of his liege lord, the dragon slunk down in his chair, his scales leaving scratches across the varnish. Nagi cringed.
"I suppose I should," he agreed, sounding unhappy. "He wasn't impressed by the pearls we brought, though."
The first part of this conference had involved traveling to the crystal palace at the bottom of the sea, where all the minor dragons congregated to pay homage to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea before following him up to Heaven. Lounging on his coral throne, he'd barely glanced at the pouch of slightly-larger-than-seed pearls that my dragon had presented.
Remembering the same thing, Nagi went silent for a moment. Then her eyes slid in my direction.
"No!" My dragon shot upright. "I'm not giving him Mooncloud! We talked about this."
"Indeed we did," she agreed, looking as if the two had come away from that discussion with very different conclusions. "It may be our only chance of winning his favor."
The dragon shook his head, his greasy mane flapping against his snout. He blew a strand out of his eyes. "No," he repeated. "Absolutely not. He has too many pets. He'd never treasure her the way we do."
Nagi's tongue flicked a couple times, but she dropped the topic.
I went back to studying the latch on my cage.
Although the dragon would have loved to sneak me into the welcome banquet, etiquette (and Nagi) prevailed, and he left me in our suite along with strict instructions to the crabs to "take as good care of her as We Ourselves would." Given that they were the ones who fed me and cleaned my cage every day, I wasn't sure how much weight that injunction carried. At any rate, they were too busy dangling out the window to gawk at the pond. Unobserved, I stuck a fin out of my cage and niggled at the latch until it clicked open. Success!
With a glance at the crabs' backs, I edged the door open, glided out, nudged the door shut, and dove under a chair. Annoyingly, all the furniture here was rosewood carved with open latticework – attractive, yes, luxurious, yes, but not great for hiding. Hovering just beneath the seat, I peeked around a chair leg and waited for someone to open the hallway door. Eventually, a crab noticed that I was missing, and all of them panicked. Three started clambering up side tables and searching vases, while three more scuttled into the hallway to question the imps. While the crabs were hauling one another up a particularly tall vase, I darted out from under my chair, ducked around a potted plant, slipped behind a screen, and shot out the door.
Part One of Operation Find Flicker was proceeding smoothly. Now for Part Two: locating the Hall of Vermilion Clouds. Was it too much to hope that the conference organizers had set up a directory?
Down the hall I swam, hugging the walls to blend into the shadows. At last, an advantage to being an ugly, dull-grey catfish: None of the star sprites or imps noticed me as they scurried around, finishing up last-minute preparations for tomorrow morning's opening ceremony.
But as I slunk into the atrium, a clerk glanced in my direction. "Excuse me," she called, "may I help you?"
Caught before I could even get out of the building! I froze, scrambling for excuses. I'd tell her I was a servant – I'd tell her that my dragon king had sent me for – for –
Before I could figure out what a dragon might send a fish to fetch, she strode right past me and bowed to a pair of brownish-grey dragons with pale yellow bellies. They were no bigger than rice paddy snakes and had the same coloration.
"How may I be of assistance to Your Highnesses?" asked the clerk.
One of the little dragons stood up on his hind legs and stretched to his full two feet. Arching his neck the way Nagi liked to, he showed off the seed pearl at his throat. "We are the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond," he announced in a thin, piping voice.
"And We are the Dragon King of Sweet Lily Pond," proclaimed the other.
Bowing again, the clerk amended, "My apologies. How may I be of assistance to Your Majesties?"
"We are looking for the Welcome Banquet," Caltrop Pond said, thrusting out his chest.
"We understand that it is to be held in this building," added Sweet Lily Pond.
The clerk smiled, gently. "The banquet is currently going on in the Main Hall," she answered, to the dragons' dismay. Stepping aside, she gestured at the staircase. "It is down these stairs and to your right. I don't believe it has been going on for very long, so if you hurry, you can still find seats."
Still find seats? What happened to the seating chart?
The two little dragons held a whispered conference, at the end of which Caltrop Pond lifted his chin and pronounced, "We thank you for your assistance." Then they hurried across the atrium, at a pace that was not quite a run but was definitely too fast for dignity.
Still smiling, the clerk returned to her colleagues.
"Nice to see they're growing," one commented.
"Did you notice that Sweet Lily Pond's horns are starting to branch at the tips?" asked another.
"Will they really get as big as the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas?" chirped a star child who'd just trotted out of the servants' stairwell.
The older clerks all shook their heads. "No," said the first. "They're pond dragons. Their growth is limited by the size of their ponds."
"Oooh. Poor things."
"Never let a dragon hear you say that," snapped a familiar voice. Out of the stairwell stomped Flicker, glaring at the star child and then the other clerks for good measure. "Never insult a dragon's pride."
"Oh, hi, Flicker," she greeted him, unfazed. "I have a message for you." Rummaging around in her satchel, she handed him a scroll.
With a final scowl, he cracked the seal, skimmed its contents – and gulped. "She's coming tonight? In person?"
The other clerks were crowding around him to read it for themselves.
"But that's not in the schedule," one protested.
"She's not supposed to come until tomorrow."
"We're not ready yet."
"Why didn't her secretary tell us earlier?"
Flicker shook his head, looking resigned to their boss' spontaneity. "She wants to reward us by coming in person to express her gratitude for our hard work."
From the expressions on the clerks' faces, far from acknowledging their efforts, she'd just created more stress and work for them. They started running around the atrium, straightening paintings, shoving paperwork, brushes, and inkstones behind screens, and shooing the messenger child back into the stairwell.
Before they could finish, a fresh, crisp scent like a mountain breeze wafted into the space. A pair of crane maidens danced in and positioned themselves on either side of the main staircase, their black waist skirts and crimson sashes floating around their filmy white gowns (ah, proper clothing at last!). At the sight, all the clerks dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the floor. Light footsteps tapped up the stairs, advancing in clear, regular pattern I recognized.
Oh dear.
I ducked behind a screen. A heartbeat later, the Star of Reflected Brightness entered the atrium.
Aurelia, Cassius' ex-empress and ex-wife (at least, I assumed that having your spouse tortured to death was tantamount to divorcing her), looked much as she had in life. Wide mouth, broad cheeks, ebony eyes that were just a little too small and a tad too close to each other. Deification had smoothed her skin and added a faint, pearly glow, but she couldn't begin to compare to the Goddess of Life. Then again, Cassius' advisers hadn't selected her for her looks, but for her pedigree, political connections, and ability to run the palace behind the scenes. (This was before my time, otherwise I'd have installed a decorative airhead.)
She turned her head deliberately, scanning the atrium and noting that it wasn't fully set up yet. Her gaze settled on Flicker, prostrate in the first row of clerks. "Flicker. You may raise your head."
Flicker obeyed at once, straightening his back until it looked like someone had shoved a walking stick down his spine.
"How are preparations for the conference proceeding?"
"They are proceeding smoothly, my lady." He delivered a concise, precise summary in just the style she favored.
At the end, she smiled down at the backs of the clerks' heads. "Thank you all for your hard work," she told them in the practiced, warm voice she'd used for addressing palace servants. "I know that you have been assigned conference management on top of your regular duties."
For all their grumbling about her surprise visit, the clerks glowed with pride, filling the atrium with golden light.
"Please keep up your hard work."
And, with a nod that only Flicker could see, she turned and disappeared down the stairs, the crane maidens gliding behind her.
Once their breeze had died away, the clerks leaped to their feet and attacked their work with enthusiasm, even though she hadn't promised any rewards or even time off after the conference. Her thanks, it seemed, was sufficient inspiration.
She'd been like that in life, too. The devotion of her ladies-in-waiting and the palace staff, combined with the political influence of her relatives, meant that it had taken me ages to convince Cassius to move against her.
I couldn't help but wonder how they were getting along in Heaven. After all, even if they lived at opposite ends of the Palace of the Hundred Stars – which was by no means guaranteed – they were still neighbors. And while Aurelia was a competent-enough leader, she was no saint. And Cassius was, well, Cassius.
Smirking, I waited until the clerks finished setting up and vanished into the servants' stairwell. Flicker, who seemed to be in charge of operations here, was the last to leave. As he surveyed the atrium one last time, I swam out from behind my screen.
He glimpsed my form and started to frown. "May I help you – "
I didn't let him finish. Hey, Flicker! It's me! I flapped a fin at him, the click-click-click bouncing off the walls.
His jaw dropped. "Piri?"
Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Michael, Voligne, and Anonymous!
Chapter 13: Meeting Flicker
Chapter 13: Meeting Flicker
Yep! Boy, am I happy to see you! I have a really important question to ask you, and I've been trying and trying to figure out how to find the Hall of Vermilion Clouds, but now I don't have to because you came here!
That was probably the most I'd ever said to Flicker at one time. Truly, I'd been starved for conversation that didn't go along the lines of, "Awwww! Aren't you so cuuuute!"
Flicker, on the other hand, didn't act nearly as happy to see a soul in his charge as he should have. In fact, he looked as frozen as a Northern Serican ice sculpture. Swimming up to him, I waved both fins in front of his eyes, sending clicks bouncing around the atrium. He blinked, but couldn't seem to sort his thoughts into a coherent sentence.
In my generosity, I allowed him time to recover by prattling on. Hey, Flicker, did you know that Heaven looks much better when you come in the main gate? This Sky Breeze Pavilion is pretty nice too. The crabs are fixated on that lotus pond out back, though, so don't be surprised if you see them swimming in it –
"But what are you doing here?" he burst out. "You are not on the attendee list! I would know!"
Oh. Was that what was bothering him? An extra, unregistered conference attendee whose presence might upset his precise scheduling and seating plans?
Oh, don't worry about that, I didn't sneak in or anything. The Dragon King of Black Sand Creek adopted me and brought me along. He couldn't bear to leave me behind. I gave a casual flip of my tail.
Flicker's eyes practically bulged out of his head. Too late, I realized that the clerk had leaped to the worst possible conclusion.
Don't worry, I repeated, toning down my chatter and hovering sedately before him. I'm not his adviser or anything. Just his pet. His adviser is –
"Nagi, a water snake spirit," supplied Flicker numbly.
It figured that he had all the attendees' names, natures, and job descriptions memorized.
Yes, I confirmed. Nagi. The Dragon King did want to take me to the banquet tonight, but she insisted that it would be a breach of protocol. I'm glad she did, because I needed to find you, and this was the perfect chance to look around.
"A pet," Flicker muttered to himself. He rubbed one temple, then massaged both for good measure. "Reincarnate Piri as a catfish and she finds a way to become a dragon king's pet."
Personally, I thought it was an impressive achievement given how common and how ugly catfish were, but his tone suggested otherwise.
"Glitter was against it from the start…."
Against what? Making me a catfish?
Unless some massive upheaval had happened in the Bureau of Reincarnation in the past few months, Glitter was the one who assigned souls to mortal forms. Well, except when Cassius meddled. But presumably the Goddess of Life had instituted a new oversight committee or something to prevent repeats.
"No, not that. I meant the Goddess of Life's – "
All of a sudden, Flicker remembered that we were chatting in the middle of an atrium above a banquet hall full of dragon kings, who might come back upstairs at any moment to overhear a clerk criticizing a goddess' decree. Snapping his mouth shut, he pointed his eyes at the servants' stairwell and stalked into it.
I swam after him, noting that it was even more cramped than the one in the Hall of Vermilion Clouds. It also lacked a window for serving tea to star sprites, suggesting that the clerks didn't spend nearly as much time in the Sky Breeze Pavilion. This must be a specialized conference facility.
At the bottom of the stairwell, a door opened onto a staging courtyard. Unlike the public side of Heaven, it was unadorned and utilitarian. Here, the plain, white walls were just plain, white walls, not feats of architectural imagination that conveyed elegance through their very simplicity. Along one wall stood a row of spare chairs; heaped in a corner were empty crates draped with limp vegetable bits. On the other side of the courtyard, a small canal flowed past the building's loading dock, where imp boatmen waited by their rafts.
Flicker led me behind the crates. "All right. You said you had something to ask me. Ask."
Offended by his flatness, I needled him, But you don't seem to want me to ask. If you don't really want to hear my question, I wouldn't dream of subjecting you to it….
His jaw clenched and his lips pursed into a line. He must be modeling himself after Glitter, although it would have been more effective if he'd added white hair, wrinkly skin, and maybe a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
Unobstructed by corrective lenses, his eyes were glaring at me.
Oh, fine. I made a show of surrendering to his stuffiness. I was wondering how much karma I'm earning for bringing joy into the life of a dragon king.
That question did not surprise Flicker in the slightest. "Still the same old self-centered Piri, I see. Well, I wouldn't know. I'm not an Accountant."
A convenient excuse. Someday, I was going to have to corner an Accountant, interrogate them, and check for myself whether they really were these omniscient beings. But for now, I was stuck with a clerk.
Surely you can make an educated guess, I coaxed. After all, you've been reincarnating souls for millennia now. I'm sure that even when you don't know precise figures, you can draw on all that experience to make very accurate estimates….
Flicker shook his head. "You're not the first to barge up to Heaven demanding answers, you know. So we have rules about revealing sensitive information to a being that is still in the cycle of reincarnation."
Unsurprising. Heaven had a rule banning everything I wanted.
Okay, I said, to Flicker's relief. Here's a more generic question then: If it's a choice between actions that benefit a dragon king versus a human noble, helping the dragon king is worth more positive karma, right?
The clerk sighed but accepted that he wasn't going to escape without answering one of my questions, and this one apparently was not prohibited by his handbook of Heavenly conduct. "It's not as straightforward as you think," he replied. "It depends on which dragon king and which human noble."
Really?
"Yes. Really. Now, I've answered your question, so if you will please return to your room before anyone comes looking – "
Why does it depend on which dragon king and which human noble? Why isn't one always worth more than the other?
"Because one is a member of the Heavenly hierarchy but not necessarily a high-ranking one, while the other makes offerings to Heaven, but not necessarily high-quality ones."
While I was still processing that breathtakingly mercenary assessment of individual worth, Flicker started to step out from behind the crates.
Wait! Darting forward, I bit down on his sleeve and demanded, The Dragon King of Black Sand Creek and Baron Claymouth. Between those two, which one is more valuable?
He tried to yank free, but I drove my teeth through the cotton. He'd have to rip his sleeve to break away, and I'd bet these robes didn't come cheap, at least not on a clerk's wages.
"I don't know, okay?" he snapped. "This isn't the sort of thing I know off the top of my head!"
Thank goodness I'd hedged my bets over the duck demons and the pearl farm. Can you look it up then? This is important. I need to know!
"No, this is precisely the sort of thing you don't need to know! Go back and live your life, Piri. All of your deeds will be tallied up after you die, so unless you're planning to live a hundred years and turn into a catfish spirit, you'll find out soon enough."
Heaven forbid that Flicker actually be helpful.
But it didn't look like I was going to get any more information out of him, so I unlocked my jaw and released his sleeve. Disgusted, he examined the damp cloth, tugged at it to hide the toothmarks, and hurried towards the dock. As for me, I swam back around the building to the east wing, hoping that the crabs had left the windows open.
Alas, the rest of the conference proved less exciting. Terrified that they'd lose me again, this time for good, the head crab assigned trustworthy minions to supervise my cage at all times. Every time I so much as approached the door, the nearest crab would scuttle over and clack its claws at me, shooing me off.
I'm not trying to run away, I tried to reason with them. I just want to explore.
Warning clacks.
I'll come back. I promise.
"What if you don't? What if you get lost, injured, eaten, captured, killed, kidnapped, or confiscated? How will we face His Majesty? Please, Miss Mooncloud, do us all a favor and be a good catfish."
Honestly, how the dragon punished his servants was none of my concern, but the crabs' determination prevented a second jailbreak.
I did, however, manage to cajole the dragon into taking me out for fresh air himself one night. He was exhausted after another tedious committee meeting where he'd served as note-taker, but he wordlessly picked up my cage and trudged to the nearest garden. This one had a wide lake crisscrossed with arched bridges and dotted with gazebos. Lost in thought, he meandered along a wooden gallery until it terminated in the Pine Sweep Pavilion. Finding himself surrounded by furniture all of a sudden, he dropped into a chair and stared blankly at the pines across the lake. Behind us, Nagi waved for the crab attendants to stay in the gallery while she stationed herself inside the doorway, eavesdropping.
After letting the dragon brood for a few minutes, I prodded, So, how's the conference going?
"Hmmm?" He shook himself, dog-like. "Oh. Meh. So-so." He sank back into silence, but this time it felt more like a thinking silence, as if he needed to talk to someone but wasn't quite sure where to start. At last, he said, "We come up every year at the end of Dragon Moon to give our reports on the past year to the Commander."
It was the longest sentence he'd ever spoken to me. Unfortunately, I knew its contents already, but it was still an improvement over babytalk. I squeezed my face through the bars, broadcasting as much rapt attention as a catfish could.
"We also hold committee meetings – do you know what a committee is?" I bobbed my head, urging him to keep going, but he paused to explain anyway, "It's where a group of people get together to talk about something important." (Well, that last part was debatable. In fact, I'd argue that most committees met to discuss unimportant topics.) "They analyze how the weather affected different regions of Serica, how the humans' crops fared, that sort of thing. At the same time, we project how the upcoming year's agriculture will go given different weather patterns. At the end, the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas review all the committees' findings in order to make a formal recommendation on rain allocations. Once the Dragon Commander approves it and stamps it, the Master of Rain will implement it."
I recalled Nagi mentioning 'rolling droughts' and stressing the importance of networking. So how much rain will we get this year? I asked, making sure to use the plural.
The dragon's head drooped. "They haven't finalized the recommendation yet, but…it's not looking good."
Oh no! My horror was genuine, if not quite for the same reason as his. Your Majesty, you have to tell them we need rain! For – What crops did humans plant near Black Sand Creek anyway? Rice? Wheat? Cabbages? For the farmers. The human farmers. They work so hard!
"I know!" snarled the dragon, making Nagi jump. "I know," he said more quietly. He laid an apologetic hand on my cage. "You're really growing up, aren't you, Mooncloud?"
Nothing about my mental capacity had changed – only his perception of it – but arguing would waste time. Go to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea! He's our liege lord. He'll help us, right?
But even as I spoke, I already knew the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea wouldn't bother. Not after the dismissive glance he'd flicked over our offering.
My dragon confirmed this in a defeated tone. "I tried already. He said he would do what he could."
Which meant he wouldn't. We needed another way to convince him. Although the strategies I'd deployed against Cassius wouldn't work here, I did remember how his courtiers sometimes got me to do favors for them.
You have to be persistent, I counseled my dragon. Polite – but persistent. Like a cricket chirping in the wall when you're trying to sleep. Make sure he remembers you. Then he's more likely to put in a word for you when the time comes.
Hope kindled in my dragon's eyes. "Polite but persistent," he mused. "That sounds doable."
It is! I know it is! And I meant it – he had hangdog earnestness down to an art.
"That should be doable," he repeated, sounding more confident. "Yes, I can do that."
Yes! I pumped my fins, cheering him on. Yes, you can! I believe in you! You'll get rain for us!
Caught up in the moment, he threw out his chest, making his pearl bounce, and declared, "Yes, I will!"
A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Michael, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
Yep! Boy, am I happy to see you! I have a really important question to ask you, and I've been trying and trying to figure out how to find the Hall of Vermilion Clouds, but now I don't have to because you came here!
That was probably the most I'd ever said to Flicker at one time. Truly, I'd been starved for conversation that didn't go along the lines of, "Awwww! Aren't you so cuuuute!"
Flicker, on the other hand, didn't act nearly as happy to see a soul in his charge as he should have. In fact, he looked as frozen as a Northern Serican ice sculpture. Swimming up to him, I waved both fins in front of his eyes, sending clicks bouncing around the atrium. He blinked, but couldn't seem to sort his thoughts into a coherent sentence.
In my generosity, I allowed him time to recover by prattling on. Hey, Flicker, did you know that Heaven looks much better when you come in the main gate? This Sky Breeze Pavilion is pretty nice too. The crabs are fixated on that lotus pond out back, though, so don't be surprised if you see them swimming in it –
"But what are you doing here?" he burst out. "You are not on the attendee list! I would know!"
Oh. Was that what was bothering him? An extra, unregistered conference attendee whose presence might upset his precise scheduling and seating plans?
Oh, don't worry about that, I didn't sneak in or anything. The Dragon King of Black Sand Creek adopted me and brought me along. He couldn't bear to leave me behind. I gave a casual flip of my tail.
Flicker's eyes practically bulged out of his head. Too late, I realized that the clerk had leaped to the worst possible conclusion.
Don't worry, I repeated, toning down my chatter and hovering sedately before him. I'm not his adviser or anything. Just his pet. His adviser is –
"Nagi, a water snake spirit," supplied Flicker numbly.
It figured that he had all the attendees' names, natures, and job descriptions memorized.
Yes, I confirmed. Nagi. The Dragon King did want to take me to the banquet tonight, but she insisted that it would be a breach of protocol. I'm glad she did, because I needed to find you, and this was the perfect chance to look around.
"A pet," Flicker muttered to himself. He rubbed one temple, then massaged both for good measure. "Reincarnate Piri as a catfish and she finds a way to become a dragon king's pet."
Personally, I thought it was an impressive achievement given how common and how ugly catfish were, but his tone suggested otherwise.
"Glitter was against it from the start…."
Against what? Making me a catfish?
Unless some massive upheaval had happened in the Bureau of Reincarnation in the past few months, Glitter was the one who assigned souls to mortal forms. Well, except when Cassius meddled. But presumably the Goddess of Life had instituted a new oversight committee or something to prevent repeats.
"No, not that. I meant the Goddess of Life's – "
All of a sudden, Flicker remembered that we were chatting in the middle of an atrium above a banquet hall full of dragon kings, who might come back upstairs at any moment to overhear a clerk criticizing a goddess' decree. Snapping his mouth shut, he pointed his eyes at the servants' stairwell and stalked into it.
I swam after him, noting that it was even more cramped than the one in the Hall of Vermilion Clouds. It also lacked a window for serving tea to star sprites, suggesting that the clerks didn't spend nearly as much time in the Sky Breeze Pavilion. This must be a specialized conference facility.
At the bottom of the stairwell, a door opened onto a staging courtyard. Unlike the public side of Heaven, it was unadorned and utilitarian. Here, the plain, white walls were just plain, white walls, not feats of architectural imagination that conveyed elegance through their very simplicity. Along one wall stood a row of spare chairs; heaped in a corner were empty crates draped with limp vegetable bits. On the other side of the courtyard, a small canal flowed past the building's loading dock, where imp boatmen waited by their rafts.
Flicker led me behind the crates. "All right. You said you had something to ask me. Ask."
Offended by his flatness, I needled him, But you don't seem to want me to ask. If you don't really want to hear my question, I wouldn't dream of subjecting you to it….
His jaw clenched and his lips pursed into a line. He must be modeling himself after Glitter, although it would have been more effective if he'd added white hair, wrinkly skin, and maybe a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
Unobstructed by corrective lenses, his eyes were glaring at me.
Oh, fine. I made a show of surrendering to his stuffiness. I was wondering how much karma I'm earning for bringing joy into the life of a dragon king.
That question did not surprise Flicker in the slightest. "Still the same old self-centered Piri, I see. Well, I wouldn't know. I'm not an Accountant."
A convenient excuse. Someday, I was going to have to corner an Accountant, interrogate them, and check for myself whether they really were these omniscient beings. But for now, I was stuck with a clerk.
Surely you can make an educated guess, I coaxed. After all, you've been reincarnating souls for millennia now. I'm sure that even when you don't know precise figures, you can draw on all that experience to make very accurate estimates….
Flicker shook his head. "You're not the first to barge up to Heaven demanding answers, you know. So we have rules about revealing sensitive information to a being that is still in the cycle of reincarnation."
Unsurprising. Heaven had a rule banning everything I wanted.
Okay, I said, to Flicker's relief. Here's a more generic question then: If it's a choice between actions that benefit a dragon king versus a human noble, helping the dragon king is worth more positive karma, right?
The clerk sighed but accepted that he wasn't going to escape without answering one of my questions, and this one apparently was not prohibited by his handbook of Heavenly conduct. "It's not as straightforward as you think," he replied. "It depends on which dragon king and which human noble."
Really?
"Yes. Really. Now, I've answered your question, so if you will please return to your room before anyone comes looking – "
Why does it depend on which dragon king and which human noble? Why isn't one always worth more than the other?
"Because one is a member of the Heavenly hierarchy but not necessarily a high-ranking one, while the other makes offerings to Heaven, but not necessarily high-quality ones."
While I was still processing that breathtakingly mercenary assessment of individual worth, Flicker started to step out from behind the crates.
Wait! Darting forward, I bit down on his sleeve and demanded, The Dragon King of Black Sand Creek and Baron Claymouth. Between those two, which one is more valuable?
He tried to yank free, but I drove my teeth through the cotton. He'd have to rip his sleeve to break away, and I'd bet these robes didn't come cheap, at least not on a clerk's wages.
"I don't know, okay?" he snapped. "This isn't the sort of thing I know off the top of my head!"
Thank goodness I'd hedged my bets over the duck demons and the pearl farm. Can you look it up then? This is important. I need to know!
"No, this is precisely the sort of thing you don't need to know! Go back and live your life, Piri. All of your deeds will be tallied up after you die, so unless you're planning to live a hundred years and turn into a catfish spirit, you'll find out soon enough."
Heaven forbid that Flicker actually be helpful.
But it didn't look like I was going to get any more information out of him, so I unlocked my jaw and released his sleeve. Disgusted, he examined the damp cloth, tugged at it to hide the toothmarks, and hurried towards the dock. As for me, I swam back around the building to the east wing, hoping that the crabs had left the windows open.
Alas, the rest of the conference proved less exciting. Terrified that they'd lose me again, this time for good, the head crab assigned trustworthy minions to supervise my cage at all times. Every time I so much as approached the door, the nearest crab would scuttle over and clack its claws at me, shooing me off.
I'm not trying to run away, I tried to reason with them. I just want to explore.
Warning clacks.
I'll come back. I promise.
"What if you don't? What if you get lost, injured, eaten, captured, killed, kidnapped, or confiscated? How will we face His Majesty? Please, Miss Mooncloud, do us all a favor and be a good catfish."
Honestly, how the dragon punished his servants was none of my concern, but the crabs' determination prevented a second jailbreak.
I did, however, manage to cajole the dragon into taking me out for fresh air himself one night. He was exhausted after another tedious committee meeting where he'd served as note-taker, but he wordlessly picked up my cage and trudged to the nearest garden. This one had a wide lake crisscrossed with arched bridges and dotted with gazebos. Lost in thought, he meandered along a wooden gallery until it terminated in the Pine Sweep Pavilion. Finding himself surrounded by furniture all of a sudden, he dropped into a chair and stared blankly at the pines across the lake. Behind us, Nagi waved for the crab attendants to stay in the gallery while she stationed herself inside the doorway, eavesdropping.
After letting the dragon brood for a few minutes, I prodded, So, how's the conference going?
"Hmmm?" He shook himself, dog-like. "Oh. Meh. So-so." He sank back into silence, but this time it felt more like a thinking silence, as if he needed to talk to someone but wasn't quite sure where to start. At last, he said, "We come up every year at the end of Dragon Moon to give our reports on the past year to the Commander."
It was the longest sentence he'd ever spoken to me. Unfortunately, I knew its contents already, but it was still an improvement over babytalk. I squeezed my face through the bars, broadcasting as much rapt attention as a catfish could.
"We also hold committee meetings – do you know what a committee is?" I bobbed my head, urging him to keep going, but he paused to explain anyway, "It's where a group of people get together to talk about something important." (Well, that last part was debatable. In fact, I'd argue that most committees met to discuss unimportant topics.) "They analyze how the weather affected different regions of Serica, how the humans' crops fared, that sort of thing. At the same time, we project how the upcoming year's agriculture will go given different weather patterns. At the end, the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas review all the committees' findings in order to make a formal recommendation on rain allocations. Once the Dragon Commander approves it and stamps it, the Master of Rain will implement it."
I recalled Nagi mentioning 'rolling droughts' and stressing the importance of networking. So how much rain will we get this year? I asked, making sure to use the plural.
The dragon's head drooped. "They haven't finalized the recommendation yet, but…it's not looking good."
Oh no! My horror was genuine, if not quite for the same reason as his. Your Majesty, you have to tell them we need rain! For – What crops did humans plant near Black Sand Creek anyway? Rice? Wheat? Cabbages? For the farmers. The human farmers. They work so hard!
"I know!" snarled the dragon, making Nagi jump. "I know," he said more quietly. He laid an apologetic hand on my cage. "You're really growing up, aren't you, Mooncloud?"
Nothing about my mental capacity had changed – only his perception of it – but arguing would waste time. Go to the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea! He's our liege lord. He'll help us, right?
But even as I spoke, I already knew the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea wouldn't bother. Not after the dismissive glance he'd flicked over our offering.
My dragon confirmed this in a defeated tone. "I tried already. He said he would do what he could."
Which meant he wouldn't. We needed another way to convince him. Although the strategies I'd deployed against Cassius wouldn't work here, I did remember how his courtiers sometimes got me to do favors for them.
You have to be persistent, I counseled my dragon. Polite – but persistent. Like a cricket chirping in the wall when you're trying to sleep. Make sure he remembers you. Then he's more likely to put in a word for you when the time comes.
Hope kindled in my dragon's eyes. "Polite but persistent," he mused. "That sounds doable."
It is! I know it is! And I meant it – he had hangdog earnestness down to an art.
"That should be doable," he repeated, sounding more confident. "Yes, I can do that."
Yes! I pumped my fins, cheering him on. Yes, you can! I believe in you! You'll get rain for us!
Caught up in the moment, he threw out his chest, making his pearl bounce, and declared, "Yes, I will!"
A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Michael, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
Chapter 14: Drought
Chapter 14: Drought
The next morning, the dragon woke early and rushed off to the conference, fired up with zeal and shadowed by a dour Nagi. The glare she shot at my cage on her way out screamed that she didn't want anyone else advising the dragon, not even the pet fish she'd personally presented to him. If I were still in Cassius' court, I'd start worrying about assassins – but here, I didn't care. Dying just gave me a fresh start and a different set of chances to earn karma.
All day, I swam in circles around my cage, waiting for the dragon to return. He did so after dinner, looking droopy and exhausted as always. When I waved my fins, he trudged over and shook his head. "He said he'll look into it."
Not a particularly promising start, but then again, I hadn't expected immediate results. I had counseled persistence, after all. That's okay! I chirped. He doesn't have to give us more rain right away. As long as he does eventually, it's fine!
Ignored off on the side, Nagi was shuffling through papers while eavesdropping. "When the stakes are this high, 'eventually' isn't 'fine,' little one," she reproved me. "Your Majesty, we just had a drought the year before last. The farmers have only just begun to recover. We cannot afford another drought this year. You must be proactive in convincing the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea to grant us rain."
Before the dragon could answer, I argued, He is being proactive. He's going to keep pesteri– I mean, reminding and reminding the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea.
"That's not enough!" Nagi lashed out. "You're just a fish! What do you know about politics and kings?"
More than this self-important adviser to an insignificant water spirit in an inconsequential creek. I could play this game better than she ever would. Keeping my voice sweet and respectful, I inquired, What do you think we should do, Prime Minister?
"All along, I've said that we must present His Majesty with gifts to raise his esteem for us! To prove that Black Sand Creek is full of loyal and valuable vassals!"
Yes, well, bribery worked much better when you offered a bribe worth taking. What sort of gifts would prove our loyalty and value?
She stared straight at me, challenging me to make the ultimate sacrifice.
Me? I gasped, feigning shock. For good measure, I clapped a fin to my mouth. Am I really that special?
Her air of superiority returned. "You're a talking fish, little one. You're unawakened, but you have a mind. I've never seen or heard of anything like you." (Of course not – she lived in Black Sand Creek. Although, to be honest, neither had I. After all, the Goddess of Life didn't grant special dispensation every day.) "You are the greatest treasure we have to offer."
Oh…. Oh…. I pretended to process this, calculating furiously all the while. I certainly brought more joy into my dragon's life than I would into the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea's – but how much more? What weighting factors did Accounting apply? If only I could sneak into their offices and read their ledgers! Well, I guess…if it's for the sake of Black Sand Creek…I would be happy to –
Up until this point, the dragon had watched in silence, but now he burst out, "No! Absolutely not!" Cradling my cage protectively, he glared at Nagi. "You heard the same thing I did – he's gotten obsessed with natural philosophy. He'll order his scholars to vivisect her to study how her mind works!"
Eeek!
I'd already gotten vivisected once, in soul form, by the Goddess of Life. How much worse would it be when I could feel both physical and spiritual pain?
Although…was it really that much worse than getting caught and cooked over and over and over? If the karma from furthering the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea's scientific endeavors could boost me up to the next Tier, the pain would be worth it.
I pretended to calm myself and reconsider. Well…if it helps all those poor farmers….
"No," repeated my dragon, glowering at Nagi. "I'm going with Mooncloud's plan. That's final."
Seething, Nagi thumped her tail on the carpet but bowed. "As Your Majesty wishes."
"That is as We wish," he proclaimed. "We will bring rain to Our lands."
But he didn't.
Oh, he tried. I knew he tried. He reported to me every night. When he had the energy, he took me out to the garden and updated me while strolling down the galleries, trailed by a resentful Nagi. When he was too tired, he mumbled an account while getting into bed. From what he'd heard, all of Eastern Serica was getting less rain than usual, so the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea was scrambling to divide it among his major vassals, of whom my dragon was most definitely not one.
On the final day of the Dragon Moon, the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas submitted their formal recommendation, their Commander held a closing banquet where he ceremonially stamped it and presented it to the Master of Rain, and the next morning we slunk back down to Earth. Captains Carpa and Carpio rushed out of the water court to meet us, jostling each other and the rickety gateway, but a hiss from Nagi subdued them, and after that, it was back to business as usual. Engrained habits took over, Nagi reclaimed her role as the dragon's sole adviser, and he reverted to communicating with me in babytalk.
And so the Lotus Moon began and wore on, with no sign of so much as a drizzle. Temperatures soared, human children splashed in the river whenever they could, and frog spirits came in a steady stream to report that the soil was as dry and cracked as old pottery.
"Tell the humans that it will be a dry year, but the rain will come," the dragon instructed them over and over. "Tell them to be patient. Heaven will provide."
But it didn't.
At last, the Green Frog, whose territory bordered ours on the opposite side of the river from the Claymouth fief, came in person to beg for intercession. "We can't go on like this. The Claymouth farmers are channeling too much water out of the rrrriver to their fields. The water level has been drrrropping. Have you noticed?"
"We have," replied the dragon, too distressed to take offense at the suggestion that he'd missed what was happening to his own home.
Nagi answered tartly, "Indeed, we've noticed that your farmers have been doing the same."
The Green Frog hopped up and down a few times, indignant. "I have much less farmland than Barrrron Claymouth. Most of my vassals are artists: actors, singers, dancers, painters – "
"Yes, we've noticed," Nagi repeated, even more tartly this time.
She nodded at the dragon, who touched his pearl and projected an image of the town of Claymouth onto the walls. The dusty main road was packed with humans banging gongs, setting off firecrackers, and burning heaps of paper money. Supported by a dozen dancers, a cloth-and-bamboo dragon was zigzagging up towards the castle. More dancers escorted it, waving flags painted with images of water and clouds, and a singer walked ahead, flinging up her arms every few steps and wailing, "O Rain, come to us! Come, come, O Rain!"
The Green Frog glanced down, cheeks pink. "Well," he mumbled. "The barrrron wanted a rrrrain prrrrocession. Crrrrops will be lean this year. I need to make money somehow."
"Yes, the drought does seem to be profitable for you," Nagi shot back.
The dragon tapped his pearl with a claw, and the vision shifted to show a series of small farming communities, where the Green Frog's actors were leading similar parades. In several open fields, his artists were hard at work painting images of the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek onto the baked earth, in a symbolic attempt to parch him into bringing rain.
Pointing her tail at the wall, Nagi accused, "You seem to be doing well enough for yourself. I daresay better than usual."
"That's untrrrrue!" harrumphed the Green Frog. "My vassals rrrrequire patrrrrons! Audiences! There will be no audiences if people starve to death this winter!"
Canceling the vision, the dragon spoke at last. "This year's rainfall has been set by the Dragon Commander. What do you expect me to do?"
"Appeal the decision! Beg for more rrrrain! Borrrrow it! Whatever you have to do to get it! I don't know, I'm not a drrrragon!"
"It's not that easy! It's not that easy, and you know it!" The dragon's voice took on a scathing edge I'd never heard from him before. "'Appeal the decision' – 'beg for more rain' – what do you think I did up in Heaven for the whole conference? 'Borrow rain' – all of Eastern Serica is screaming for rain! Just be glad your lands fall under my jurisdiction and not the Dragon Kings of Sweet Lily Pond's or Caltrop Pond's!"
This speech impressed the Green Frog not one whit. He scoffed. "Their jurrrrisdictions also don't cover any farmland. As long as their ponds don't drrrry up, they'll be fine."
The dragon straightened his back, raised his chin, and pronounced, "The decision was made by Heaven. I will carry it out, and that is final. If you have a problem with that, you can complain to the Commander in person."
There wasn't much the Green Frog could say to that, and he hopped out of the audience chamber in a foul mood. The dragon's temper wasn't much better.
Nagi tried to console him, "Well, at least the Baron hasn't splurged to hire a mage yet."
"Doesn't matter if he does," grumbled the dragon. "I still can't bring rain without permission. It's a capital offense."
What can a mage do to you? I asked, more curious than concerned.
"Did you see how the Green Frog's painters are drawing images of me out in the fields, to burn me with sunlight? Of course that can't hurt me – he's just exploiting superstition – but a mage could stamp them to create a spiritual link to me."
This must be a recent innovation. I didn't remember it from my Piri days – and believe me, I would have. How strong of a link?
He shrugged. "Depends on how competent the mage is and how powerful the spell is, which in turn depends on how much the baron is willing to spend."
Hmmmm. Recalling the freshly-gilded dragon boat, I turned towards Nagi. From the slow lick of her tongue, she was remembering the same thing.
The mage didn't come this moon but the next, fittingly at the start of the Moon of Hungry Ghosts. We found out when a frog spirit came bounding into the audience chamber, shouting, "Trrrrouble! Trrrrouble! Big trrrrouble!"
She bowled over Nacre, who was back to complain about the duck demons, and nearly banged into Captain Carpio, who was assuring the dragon and Nagi that he'd driven the ducks far, far away and they couldn't possibly be back already, while Nacre shrilled, "I sensed them with my own spiritual senses! Are you saying that I don't know what a duck feels like?"
Scuttling after the frog came a pair of shrimp guards, who waved their antennae and shouted, "Halt! Halt!" Behind them was the crab seneschal, who clacked urgently at all of them, "Stop! Stop! I have to announce you!"
"What is the meaning of this?" roared the dragon.
At Nagi's urging, he'd been practicing his act of regality in fits and starts, which meant that we never knew whether he was going to moan over his own helplessness – or bellow it out.
The frog dropped to the floor in front of him, sides heaving as she fought for breath. "Your Majesty! I'm sorrrry! But a mage came! A mage! A mage is here!"
The dragon shot upright. "What? Here? In the river?"
"No, no, up at the castle!"
"How do you know?" Nagi demanded. "Did you hear it? Did you see it with your own eyes?"
The frog's dewlap swelled with indignation. "I saw her with my own two eyes! I was swimming in the pond by the castle and I saw her come rrrriding up the rrrroad."
How had she recognized a mage from outward appearance alone? Last time I checked, mages looked like regular humans – at least, until they pulled out their seals and started stamping spells.
"She had a seal hanging from her belt!"
Oh, was that how mages dressed these days? Seemed like they were just begging to be robbed. True, no one else could use their personal name seal, but it could be melted down for the bronze. The loss would represent a major hassle for the mages: Sure, they could commission a replacement, but that would take days, maybe even weeks, depending on how busy the seal-maker was and whether he or she had the appropriate quality bronze. Mages tended to be finicky about their seals.
The dragon was already casting a vision of the Claymouth fief onto the walls. It skimmed over the cracked, painted fields and zoomed in on the castle courtyard, where a woman in coarse, travel-stained clothes was swinging off her horse. She looked more like a traveling merchant than anything else, with messy black hair and weather-beaten skin. Her age could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty. Her bronze seal, a plain square with a loop on top for threading a silk cord through, glinted in the sun as she bowed to the baron.
"Welcome, honored mage!" he cried, pitching his voice to carry throughout the courtyard. "I am pleased that you were able to come so quickly."
Straightening, she gave his tunic an appraising glance, as if gauging how much he could pay. "Thank you, my lord," she rasped. "I came as fast as I could."
The castle seneschal stepped forward from the rest of the baron's retinue. "Please allow me to show you to your room, honored mage."
She waved him off. "You can do that later. Take me to the river at once."
A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Michael, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!
The next morning, the dragon woke early and rushed off to the conference, fired up with zeal and shadowed by a dour Nagi. The glare she shot at my cage on her way out screamed that she didn't want anyone else advising the dragon, not even the pet fish she'd personally presented to him. If I were still in Cassius' court, I'd start worrying about assassins – but here, I didn't care. Dying just gave me a fresh start and a different set of chances to earn karma.
All day, I swam in circles around my cage, waiting for the dragon to return. He did so after dinner, looking droopy and exhausted as always. When I waved my fins, he trudged over and shook his head. "He said he'll look into it."
Not a particularly promising start, but then again, I hadn't expected immediate results. I had counseled persistence, after all. That's okay! I chirped. He doesn't have to give us more rain right away. As long as he does eventually, it's fine!
Ignored off on the side, Nagi was shuffling through papers while eavesdropping. "When the stakes are this high, 'eventually' isn't 'fine,' little one," she reproved me. "Your Majesty, we just had a drought the year before last. The farmers have only just begun to recover. We cannot afford another drought this year. You must be proactive in convincing the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea to grant us rain."
Before the dragon could answer, I argued, He is being proactive. He's going to keep pesteri– I mean, reminding and reminding the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea.
"That's not enough!" Nagi lashed out. "You're just a fish! What do you know about politics and kings?"
More than this self-important adviser to an insignificant water spirit in an inconsequential creek. I could play this game better than she ever would. Keeping my voice sweet and respectful, I inquired, What do you think we should do, Prime Minister?
"All along, I've said that we must present His Majesty with gifts to raise his esteem for us! To prove that Black Sand Creek is full of loyal and valuable vassals!"
Yes, well, bribery worked much better when you offered a bribe worth taking. What sort of gifts would prove our loyalty and value?
She stared straight at me, challenging me to make the ultimate sacrifice.
Me? I gasped, feigning shock. For good measure, I clapped a fin to my mouth. Am I really that special?
Her air of superiority returned. "You're a talking fish, little one. You're unawakened, but you have a mind. I've never seen or heard of anything like you." (Of course not – she lived in Black Sand Creek. Although, to be honest, neither had I. After all, the Goddess of Life didn't grant special dispensation every day.) "You are the greatest treasure we have to offer."
Oh…. Oh…. I pretended to process this, calculating furiously all the while. I certainly brought more joy into my dragon's life than I would into the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea's – but how much more? What weighting factors did Accounting apply? If only I could sneak into their offices and read their ledgers! Well, I guess…if it's for the sake of Black Sand Creek…I would be happy to –
Up until this point, the dragon had watched in silence, but now he burst out, "No! Absolutely not!" Cradling my cage protectively, he glared at Nagi. "You heard the same thing I did – he's gotten obsessed with natural philosophy. He'll order his scholars to vivisect her to study how her mind works!"
Eeek!
I'd already gotten vivisected once, in soul form, by the Goddess of Life. How much worse would it be when I could feel both physical and spiritual pain?
Although…was it really that much worse than getting caught and cooked over and over and over? If the karma from furthering the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea's scientific endeavors could boost me up to the next Tier, the pain would be worth it.
I pretended to calm myself and reconsider. Well…if it helps all those poor farmers….
"No," repeated my dragon, glowering at Nagi. "I'm going with Mooncloud's plan. That's final."
Seething, Nagi thumped her tail on the carpet but bowed. "As Your Majesty wishes."
"That is as We wish," he proclaimed. "We will bring rain to Our lands."
But he didn't.
Oh, he tried. I knew he tried. He reported to me every night. When he had the energy, he took me out to the garden and updated me while strolling down the galleries, trailed by a resentful Nagi. When he was too tired, he mumbled an account while getting into bed. From what he'd heard, all of Eastern Serica was getting less rain than usual, so the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea was scrambling to divide it among his major vassals, of whom my dragon was most definitely not one.
On the final day of the Dragon Moon, the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas submitted their formal recommendation, their Commander held a closing banquet where he ceremonially stamped it and presented it to the Master of Rain, and the next morning we slunk back down to Earth. Captains Carpa and Carpio rushed out of the water court to meet us, jostling each other and the rickety gateway, but a hiss from Nagi subdued them, and after that, it was back to business as usual. Engrained habits took over, Nagi reclaimed her role as the dragon's sole adviser, and he reverted to communicating with me in babytalk.
And so the Lotus Moon began and wore on, with no sign of so much as a drizzle. Temperatures soared, human children splashed in the river whenever they could, and frog spirits came in a steady stream to report that the soil was as dry and cracked as old pottery.
"Tell the humans that it will be a dry year, but the rain will come," the dragon instructed them over and over. "Tell them to be patient. Heaven will provide."
But it didn't.
At last, the Green Frog, whose territory bordered ours on the opposite side of the river from the Claymouth fief, came in person to beg for intercession. "We can't go on like this. The Claymouth farmers are channeling too much water out of the rrrriver to their fields. The water level has been drrrropping. Have you noticed?"
"We have," replied the dragon, too distressed to take offense at the suggestion that he'd missed what was happening to his own home.
Nagi answered tartly, "Indeed, we've noticed that your farmers have been doing the same."
The Green Frog hopped up and down a few times, indignant. "I have much less farmland than Barrrron Claymouth. Most of my vassals are artists: actors, singers, dancers, painters – "
"Yes, we've noticed," Nagi repeated, even more tartly this time.
She nodded at the dragon, who touched his pearl and projected an image of the town of Claymouth onto the walls. The dusty main road was packed with humans banging gongs, setting off firecrackers, and burning heaps of paper money. Supported by a dozen dancers, a cloth-and-bamboo dragon was zigzagging up towards the castle. More dancers escorted it, waving flags painted with images of water and clouds, and a singer walked ahead, flinging up her arms every few steps and wailing, "O Rain, come to us! Come, come, O Rain!"
The Green Frog glanced down, cheeks pink. "Well," he mumbled. "The barrrron wanted a rrrrain prrrrocession. Crrrrops will be lean this year. I need to make money somehow."
"Yes, the drought does seem to be profitable for you," Nagi shot back.
The dragon tapped his pearl with a claw, and the vision shifted to show a series of small farming communities, where the Green Frog's actors were leading similar parades. In several open fields, his artists were hard at work painting images of the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek onto the baked earth, in a symbolic attempt to parch him into bringing rain.
Pointing her tail at the wall, Nagi accused, "You seem to be doing well enough for yourself. I daresay better than usual."
"That's untrrrrue!" harrumphed the Green Frog. "My vassals rrrrequire patrrrrons! Audiences! There will be no audiences if people starve to death this winter!"
Canceling the vision, the dragon spoke at last. "This year's rainfall has been set by the Dragon Commander. What do you expect me to do?"
"Appeal the decision! Beg for more rrrrain! Borrrrow it! Whatever you have to do to get it! I don't know, I'm not a drrrragon!"
"It's not that easy! It's not that easy, and you know it!" The dragon's voice took on a scathing edge I'd never heard from him before. "'Appeal the decision' – 'beg for more rain' – what do you think I did up in Heaven for the whole conference? 'Borrow rain' – all of Eastern Serica is screaming for rain! Just be glad your lands fall under my jurisdiction and not the Dragon Kings of Sweet Lily Pond's or Caltrop Pond's!"
This speech impressed the Green Frog not one whit. He scoffed. "Their jurrrrisdictions also don't cover any farmland. As long as their ponds don't drrrry up, they'll be fine."
The dragon straightened his back, raised his chin, and pronounced, "The decision was made by Heaven. I will carry it out, and that is final. If you have a problem with that, you can complain to the Commander in person."
There wasn't much the Green Frog could say to that, and he hopped out of the audience chamber in a foul mood. The dragon's temper wasn't much better.
Nagi tried to console him, "Well, at least the Baron hasn't splurged to hire a mage yet."
"Doesn't matter if he does," grumbled the dragon. "I still can't bring rain without permission. It's a capital offense."
What can a mage do to you? I asked, more curious than concerned.
"Did you see how the Green Frog's painters are drawing images of me out in the fields, to burn me with sunlight? Of course that can't hurt me – he's just exploiting superstition – but a mage could stamp them to create a spiritual link to me."
This must be a recent innovation. I didn't remember it from my Piri days – and believe me, I would have. How strong of a link?
He shrugged. "Depends on how competent the mage is and how powerful the spell is, which in turn depends on how much the baron is willing to spend."
Hmmmm. Recalling the freshly-gilded dragon boat, I turned towards Nagi. From the slow lick of her tongue, she was remembering the same thing.
The mage didn't come this moon but the next, fittingly at the start of the Moon of Hungry Ghosts. We found out when a frog spirit came bounding into the audience chamber, shouting, "Trrrrouble! Trrrrouble! Big trrrrouble!"
She bowled over Nacre, who was back to complain about the duck demons, and nearly banged into Captain Carpio, who was assuring the dragon and Nagi that he'd driven the ducks far, far away and they couldn't possibly be back already, while Nacre shrilled, "I sensed them with my own spiritual senses! Are you saying that I don't know what a duck feels like?"
Scuttling after the frog came a pair of shrimp guards, who waved their antennae and shouted, "Halt! Halt!" Behind them was the crab seneschal, who clacked urgently at all of them, "Stop! Stop! I have to announce you!"
"What is the meaning of this?" roared the dragon.
At Nagi's urging, he'd been practicing his act of regality in fits and starts, which meant that we never knew whether he was going to moan over his own helplessness – or bellow it out.
The frog dropped to the floor in front of him, sides heaving as she fought for breath. "Your Majesty! I'm sorrrry! But a mage came! A mage! A mage is here!"
The dragon shot upright. "What? Here? In the river?"
"No, no, up at the castle!"
"How do you know?" Nagi demanded. "Did you hear it? Did you see it with your own eyes?"
The frog's dewlap swelled with indignation. "I saw her with my own two eyes! I was swimming in the pond by the castle and I saw her come rrrriding up the rrrroad."
How had she recognized a mage from outward appearance alone? Last time I checked, mages looked like regular humans – at least, until they pulled out their seals and started stamping spells.
"She had a seal hanging from her belt!"
Oh, was that how mages dressed these days? Seemed like they were just begging to be robbed. True, no one else could use their personal name seal, but it could be melted down for the bronze. The loss would represent a major hassle for the mages: Sure, they could commission a replacement, but that would take days, maybe even weeks, depending on how busy the seal-maker was and whether he or she had the appropriate quality bronze. Mages tended to be finicky about their seals.
The dragon was already casting a vision of the Claymouth fief onto the walls. It skimmed over the cracked, painted fields and zoomed in on the castle courtyard, where a woman in coarse, travel-stained clothes was swinging off her horse. She looked more like a traveling merchant than anything else, with messy black hair and weather-beaten skin. Her age could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty. Her bronze seal, a plain square with a loop on top for threading a silk cord through, glinted in the sun as she bowed to the baron.
"Welcome, honored mage!" he cried, pitching his voice to carry throughout the courtyard. "I am pleased that you were able to come so quickly."
Straightening, she gave his tunic an appraising glance, as if gauging how much he could pay. "Thank you, my lord," she rasped. "I came as fast as I could."
The castle seneschal stepped forward from the rest of the baron's retinue. "Please allow me to show you to your room, honored mage."
She waved him off. "You can do that later. Take me to the river at once."
A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Charlotte, Hookshyu, Michael, Voligne, and Anonymous! And thanks to everyone for reading!