Fox and Phoenix (12 page)

Yún stopped chewing her lips. “You're right.” She pointed to the next kingdom over, northwest of our own shelter. “Here. At least for starters.”

GOLDEN SNOWCLOUD, said the legend. According to the symbols, it had a
piaohao
and magic flux wells. “Looks small. And will it have a doctor?”

“It's tiny,” Yún said. “But it has some of the deepest magic flux wells in the whole Seventy Kingdoms.
They
won't have any droughts. With all that magic, they have to have doctors as well. We can fix up Yāo-guài, buy a few more supplies, and plan the rest of our route.”

Her voice was stronger. Her manner was matter-of-fact.

Nothing like yesterday evening.

(Or yesterday afternoon, when you kissed her.)

I chewed that thought into small bits and spat them aside. We didn't have time for me to play lovesick kid. We had to reach Golden Snowcloud before Yāo-guài died. Again.

We broke camp and doubled back to the fork in the roads. Our map said Golden Snowcloud was a three-plus-day march. We covered the distance in half the time. Up the goat-trail, over the hump-backed mountain, and along a gorge so deep, shadows covered its depths. By late afternoon of that second day, we reached the border stones of the next kingdom.

Here the road stopped at a cliff. Again we consulted the maps, and we didn't like what they told us. Golden Snowcloud lay at the bottom of an even deeper gorge, surrounded by walls of mountains. There were two ways to enter the kingdom—by wind-and-magic lift and goat path. The wind-and-magic lift—a big sturdy platform with ropes and winches that looked like they could haul a gargoyle—was closed. When I pounded my fist against the shuttered gates to the lift, a pre-recorded voice whined that the lifts had stopped running because of imminent storms.

Leaving us that impossible goat track.

Our pony, the poor creature, bleated just one protest at the top of our descent. We had to slither and slide our way down, gripping the handrails that some later kind soul had installed. (Most likely after all his near relatives had died trying to enter this thrice-damned city.)

The path dropped us and our trembling pony between two iron posts that marked the city's outer walls and the entrance to a wide market square surrounded by tall stone buildings. Twilight was falling, and the guards herded us through a carved gateway that led directly into the mountainside. “There's a monster blizzard coming,” said one, in answer to our questions. “Hail and sleet and ice, the wizards say.”

Inside the mountain, a vast cavern held another city, complete with its own market square, this one crowded with goats and sheep being herded into their winter pens. Shafts and vents cut into the mountainside let fresh air inside and carried the wood smoke away. Mirrors reflected the dimming sunlight. Even as I watched, a series of lamps flickered on, like stars against a stony sky.

That's when I noticed a difference in the air—a scent that tickled my nose and sent a rippling excitement over my skin. Magic. It was like drinking water after a long drought.

Yún plucked at my sleeve. “Over here.”

She elbowed her way between the goats and sheep and shepherds to the vendor stalls that lined the market square. One, tended by an old woman smoking a pipe, had a strange stone chimney beside it.

“How much?” Yún asked.

The old woman puffed out a mouthful of smoke and named a price.

It was so high I squeaked, but Yún didn't even hesitate. “Kai, let me have Yāo-guài, please.”

I drew the limp griffin from its pouch.

The griffin huffed. Its eyes were dull. Its feathers had turned a tarnished yellow. Several floated to the ground as I handed it over to Yún. The old woman watched us with narrowed eyes, especially the griffin. “Better hurry,” she wheezed. “It'll die more easily the second time.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

The woman shrugged. “How could I not know? Magic is my business. Take this for the flux,” she said to Yún, handing over a tall stone beaker. “Your tin cups won't do.”

Yún accepted the beaker and counted out the sum into the old woman's palm. Following the woman's directions, she held the beaker underneath a spout beside the well. The old woman tossed the coins into her moneybox. With her pipe still between her teeth, she leaned close to the chimney, muttering a series of words I recognized from our long-ago lessons. A mathematical sequence. A magical one.

Magic flux streamed into the beaker, filling it to the brim. Yún carefully brought the beaker around to the griffin's half-open beak. “Yāo-guài,” she whispered. “Drink.”

Magic flowed from the beaker over the griffin's beak, like a stream of concentrated mist. Yāo-guài panted, snapped at the silvery cloud, then opened its beak wide, drinking in the mist until the beaker ran dry.

Yún handed the empty beaker back to the woman. She cupped her hand over the griffin's head in a caress. With a weak squawk, it fastened its beak onto Yún's finger. Yún winced and smiled. I could see her joy in her face, and my heart danced around. Our griffin would live. And Yún had smiled.

 

 

 

THE WIZARDS WERE right—the storm roared over the mountains at nightfall. Safe inside the cavern, I saw nothing but I heard everything.
Ai-ya
, did I hear it. Those heavy iron doors shuddered with every blast of wind, and their massive hinges groaned and creaked, while from outside came a horrible grinding noise, as though a giant gnashed its teeth. The magic flux lamps burned steadily, but ordinary candles and lamps flickered. We spent most of our funds for supper and a double-sized stall in the cavern's stables.

The pony gave a great rattling sigh as soon as I unloaded our packs. One of the old market women sold me hot water and mash, which I gave to the long-suffering beast to munch on while Yún rubbed him down. I went off to fetch a bucket of water from the common well so we could drink and wash and make tea. Like everything else, the water tasted and smelled of magic.

But when I got back, I found Yún sitting on the ground. The pony stood over her, nuzzling her hair. As I hurried forward, it jerked up its head and gave a scolding whuff.

I dropped the bucket and fell to my knees next to Yún. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to stand up, fell back with a groan.

“It's your shoulder, isn't it?” I said bluntly. “You were so busy worrying about Yāo-guài, you forgot to worry about yourself.”

I unbuttoned Yún's shirt and pulled the bandage away. The wound had closed completely since I last examined her, but sure enough, the scar puckered angrily and the skin surrounding it had turned a bright red. I cupped my hand gently over her shoulder. Thank all the gods in heaven, her skin wasn't fever hot, just overly warm.

Oh but there were all kinds of warm in the world.

Yún turned her face toward mine, eyes wide and dark. Her lips were a few inches away, no more. Her breath feathered my cheek. Blood rushed into my face as the world dropped away from everything except the two of us, alone in the stall.
No ghost dragons,
I thought confusedly.
Nothing to interrupt us now.

Without me thinking, my hand strayed down even as I leaned forward to kiss her.

“No.” Yún jerked her face away. “No, Kai.”

All the warmth vanished in the sudden chill. Yún closed her eyes tight, and her face went deadly still. As if Yún herself had vanished deep inside.

I rocked back onto my heels and stood. Swung around so Yún couldn't see my flushed face.

“The water has magic,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “You should drink some.”

Whether she did or not, I had no idea. Yāo-guài chirped loudly, demanding attention. I gathered him into my arms and carried him to his nest of blankets. Still too weak from lack of magic, he squirmed and protested in soft complaining warbles, but he didn't do more than nip at my hands as I tucked the cloth around him. Chen said nothing. He didn't need to. By the time I finished, Yún had already curled up in her blanket, her back toward me. I did the same, ready to pretend sleep until it came for real.

I
WOKE TO THE SMOTHERING GRAY HALF-LIGHT OF morning. The air was chilly and close; it smelled of wood smoke and a hundred leftover meals.

Yún was still asleep. I resisted the impulse to touch her wrist, her cheek.
I'm sorry,
I thought.
I'm sorry I'm such a horrible, selfish friend.

A soft, snuffling piggy inside my head. Then,
You are too hard on yourself.

Chen snorted, but he didn't say anything else. I fed the pony and, picking up a sling basket from our gear, headed out to the indoor market to fetch something for breakfast.

Snow trickled down from the smoke vents. The magicians had extinguished the lamps, leaving only the pale, pale light from the openings, and a dank breeze drifted through the cavern. I bought a flask of hot tea from one vendor, a bowl of spiced noodles from another, and tucked them into my basket. Radios played in the market square. The flux ran strong here, I could tell, because there wasn't the usual crackle and sputter. A few even relayed news and vids from kingdoms as far away as the Khamsang provinces, way up north, but most were tuned to local weather stations. I listened as I poked around a few more stalls, looking for something the griffin might eat.

“. . . weather wizards predict five more days of heavy snowfall . . .”

“. . . bursts of dangerously high winds . . .”

“. . . all freight lifts closed and magic-locked by royal decree . . .”

Five days locked underground. I shuddered at the idea. Sure, we could eat well, but nothing in this underground city was cheap. As I counted out more and more coins, I thought we would have to visit a
piaohao
soon.

One of the vendors sold grilled lamb mixed with rice. I bought enough for one small but hungry griffin (recently dead), then headed back toward our stall. Yún would be awake by now. Whether she was talking to me was something else.

Golden Snowcloud's cavern was laid out like a checkerboard, with different squares for markets, others for warehouses, livestock pens, guard barracks, offices for the royal bureaucracy, and anything you could imagine, plus a lot more. There was even a palace of sorts. Small, but then the Golden Snowcloud outside was tiny as well. In the middle lay a wide open square with the city wells, which the royal wizards had dug into the rock centuries ago.

I was crossing the center square, when I heard an uproar—shouts, the clatter of boots, and then the shrill cry of some unnatural beast.

Trouble
, Chen grunted in my ear.

He didn't need to say more. I knew that screech. It was Yāo-guài. The crowds were already streaming toward the quadrant where the livestock and stables were located. I slung the basket of food over on shoulder and thrust myself into the middle of the swarming, milling mass of bodies. Another screech launched my heart into my throat. All kinds of explanations tumbled through my head, none of them happy ones.

Hands grabbed me by the shoulders. “Kai!”

Yún. I nearly fell over in relief. “Yún, what happened?”

“Where were you?” she demanded, ignoring my question. “You left. You didn't even—”

“You were asleep. I went to buy—”

“You should have said something. I thought you—”

A bone-rattling shriek interrupted her. Yāo-guài again. Yún threw an angry hiss at me and plunged into the mob. I shouted at her to stop, but she ignored me. Cursing, I shoved my way after her. There was a tense, panicked air to everyone we passed—tough old men, even tougher old women, stout men sweating in spite of the chill. Only as we got closer did I understand. The air was alight with a strange white glow, and a stream of electric sparks arced overhead.

Finally, one after the other, we staggered clear—and nearly turned around again.

A dozen royal soldiers stood before our stall, swords drawn. Their faces were stiff and blank, but the way they gripped their weapons, all white-knuckled and furious, plainly said they were scared.

What in the name of the heaven's king was going on?

A man shouted from inside. At once, a chorus of chants rolled through the air—voices timed precisely in pitch and strength. Magic workers, chanting a spell of exorcism and containment. Yún and I exchanged glances, our argument forgotten. Behind us, the crowd muttered.

Chen?
I whispered.

Your little monster lost its temper,
he said.

The stall door opened. The crowd went silent.

Two soldiers emerged from the stall, a limp body slung between them: A man, barely covered by his scorched and ragged clothing. His bloody head lolled to one side. His eyes were wide, rimmed with white, like a ghost's, and staring at nothing at all. Dead? My heart froze inside my chest. Then the man's eyelids slowly sank shut, and I found I could breathe again.

The men staggered away in the direction of the palace quadrant. They didn't have to say anything. The crowd opened a lane for their passage at once. An old woman made a warding sign. Others clutched their robes close, as if a mere touch could scorch them, too. The lane closed after the soldiers, and muttering welled up, louder than before.

“. . . magic blasting everywhere . . .”

“. . . guards and wizards . . .”

“. . . man almost dead . . .”

“. . . that monster savaged him . . .”