Whaaaaat? Fox demons? There were fox demons around?! Hadn’t Master Gravitas told the Jeks that all the foxes had been hunted out?

If there were still foxes around, I had to go find them! I couldn’t tell them who I was, of course, but I still wanted to meet them. Or at least see who they were, how they lived, what they did…. It had been so long since I’d seen another fox!

But if my first reaction were ecstasy, confusion soon clouded it.

That girl had claimed that fox demons had been stealing people’s bodies. Whose bodies? And why? It was possible in theory, but vanishingly rare. After all, any fox demon who was powerful enough to suck out and devour a human’s soul was also powerful enough to transform into a human in the first place. Why bother to hunt down the perfect body to steal when you could just tailor your own form? It didn’t make sense.

“Really??? Why? How can she tell?” gasped the shortest sister, a girl with messy pigtails, echoing my thoughts exactly.

In response, the first sister raised her bushy eyebrows. “Cuz they’re bein’ so weird. Haven’t you seen how they walk and talk?”

“Clio’s little sister’s husband says he was passin’ by and saw ‘em through the window,” put in the last girl with relish, her beady eyes glinting under droopy eyelids. “They din’t think anyone could see, so their fox tails were all hangin’ out under their clothing!”

That made even less sense! True, if a fox demon transformed into a human and got distracted or tired, they might slip up and let their tails re-form. But if they’d stolen the human body in the first place, there wouldn’t be any tails at all!

Obviously, these humans knew nothing about foxes. Or were inventing tales to scare Messy Pigtails. She looked like the gullible sort.

And indeed, Bushy Eyebrows waggled them at her sister. “Better be careful, or they’ll jump bodies and steal yours!”

Messy Pigtails squeaked and nearly dropped the crock.

I nearly squeaked too – from shock that she’d believe any fox spirit would want her body.

Leaning in close, Droopy Eyelids hissed, “Just like how Piri stole Lady Laelia’s!”

Messy Pigtails and I jumped at the same time.

That girl had said my name.

She’d said my name.

No one on Earth had said my name in centuries.

An unbearable mix of yearning and loss roiled through me as I remembered the very last time anyone on Earth had addressed me by my true name.

It was five hundred years ago, the night the palace fell.

I’d known the end was coming for weeks, ever since the rebel dukes defeated the last general still loyal to Cassius and marched their army to the gates of the capital. Cassius had believed – or claimed to believe – that his Golden Bird Guards would hold the walls. Hold out just a little longer and salvation would come, he’d declared to his dwindling court. After all, wasn’t he the Son of Heaven? Hadn’t the Jade Emperor sent a chimera to his side as a sign of his divine right to rule? Didn’t the chimera remain by his side even now?

Maybe the nobles had bought it, but I’d known better. Chimera or no chimera, Heaven would not save a man whom Lady Fate had decreed would die.

I was fairly certain Cassius had known better, too.

The night the rebels breached the palace, I was hurrying down a hallway, face and tails muffled in a thick cloak, dressed for travel. Perhaps Cassius expected his Prime Minister to die by his side, but I owed him nothing. My task here was done. The dynasty was finished. I was getting out.

The hallway was darker than it should have been, most of the oil lamps empty and unlit. In all the chaos, too many servants had seized their chance and slipped away, and without Aurelia, no one had tried to reorganize the remaining staff.

“Piri.”

A voice from the shadows. A hand on my arm. Cassius.

I considered running: No human can keep pace with a spirit. But instead I lowered my hood and turned, waiting to see how he would ask me to stay. Would he accuse me? Command me? Plead with me?

He said: “It’s over, then?”

No anger or recriminations, only a bone-deep knowledge of what my answer would be.

“Yes,” I replied. I did owe him that much: the truth that his dynasty, his world, his life were all over. There was nothing left. He and I – we’d destroyed it all.

I expected him to ask, to order me to stay then, to see it through to the end with him. But again he surprised me.

“I see. You should go before they break down the gates.”

The generosity of that gesture caught me off guard. For a second, I glimpsed the ruler he might have been, if Fate had foretold differently.

Then the moment passed. His face hardened into its habitual sneer. “I’m going to burn down the palace around them. See how they like that.”

I smiled up at him, the coquettish smile that always worked on him. “Have fun, Your Imperial Majesty.”

And with that, I continued down the hall, out a back door, over the palace wall, fleeing for the Wilds where Heaven’s soldiers would eventually catch up and arrest me for high crimes against the Son of Heaven and, by extension, Heaven itself.

I’d never been Piri on Earth again since that night.

“Piri?” breathed Messy Pigtails, in the same tone that the Jeks might use to whisper “Lord Silurus.”

Her fear was gratifying, but I had to wonder, who was this Lady Laelia whose body I was supposed to have stolen? There had been no one by that name in Cassius’ court.

“Doncha remember?” Droopy Eyelids pressed, looming over her little sister until Messy Pigtails cringed back. “Gran told us the story. ‘Member?” Her voice took on the singsong-y cadence of a storyteller. “Once upon a time, there was a fox demon named Piri who lived in the Wilds. This was back in the Empire, when the fair and just Emperor Cassius and his beautiful Empress Aurelia ruled the land.”

I had to suppress a snort. The “fair and just” Emperor Cassius? The beautiful Aurelia? No one – not even her parents, I’d bet my next reincarnation on it! – had ever called Aurelia “beautiful.” Intelligent, yes. Graceful, yes. Gracious, yes. But not beautiful.

Somehow, I didn’t think Aurelia would appreciate her relegation to court ornament in the tale either. I hoped she was listening.

“Serica was a happy land. Everyone had a house to live in and warm clothing to wear and enough food to eat every day. But then Piri killed Lady Laelia and stole her body, took over the government from Emperor Cassius and Empress Aurelia, and messed ev’rythin’ up.”

That idyllic description of the Empire left a lot – well, everything – to be desired, but I was more concerned with this supposed “Lady Laelia.” I had never known a Lady Laelia, much less stolen her body! Seriously, why were humans inventing random historical personages?

“Why?” croaked Messy Pigtails, who seemed to have a knack for asking the right questions. “Why’d she do it?”

“So ev’rythin’ would be a mess and she could eat more humans. Duh,” said Bushy Eyebrows. “What else would a demon want?”

Plenty. For starters, an accurate recounting of historical events.

But still, it was flattering that even these uneducated, backwater mortals remembered my name after five hundred years. And feared it too. Maybe the children’s tale had gotten all the details wrong, but the thing that rang true was my power. I had brought down an empire. I was a force to be reckoned with.

While I gloated over my undying fame, Bushy Eyebrows was saying, “And now the fox demons are back. They’re stealin’ human bodies again!” She snapped her teeth in what she thought was an imitation of a fox demon eating a soul, I supposed. “Those aren’t really the Jeks!”

Wait – the Jeks? She thought fox demons had eaten the Jeks? Who in their right mind would eat the Jeks?!

“So what’re we gonna do about ‘em?” asked Droopy Eyelids breathlessly. “What’re we gonna do about the fox demons?”

With a shrug, Bushy Eyebrows took the crock from Messy Pigtails. “Give ‘em cabbage soup. Cuz Ma said to.”

Well, that was a little anticlimactic.

“Oh. Okay.”

“C’mon! Let’s see if we can see their tails!” cried Bushy Eyebrows.

And the three girls pattered up to the cottage in a state of giggly anticipation.

Dejected, I trudged after them. Master Gravitas had been right after all. There were no foxes in the Claymouth Barony, only bored peasants spreading nasty rumors about their neighbors. If I were the baron, I’d keep them working all year round. None of this time-off-for-the-holidays nonsense.

The girls knocked and called through the door, “Auntie Vanny! Auntie Vanny! We’re heee-ere!”

For a change, it was Master Jek who greeted the visitors. “Mornin’, girls. It’s great to see you! Come in, come in.”

Giggling and craning their heads to peek around his legs, the girls tiptoed into the cottage.

In a crestfallen voice, Messy Pigtails whispered to her sisters, “But there’s no tail.”

If I heard her, Master Jek must have as well, but I couldn’t see his face, and he didn’t say anything.

As time crawled towards the New Year, the number of visitors to Honeysuckle Croft only increased. Friends and relatives came bearing gifts, and peddlers showed up with long bamboo poles balanced on their shoulders, their wares and little scales dangling in baskets on the ends. Although all of them looked askance at the Jeks’ improved manners and improved home, no one was so crass as to mention the fox demon rumors.

On the twenty-third day of the Bitter Moon, the Jeks ceremonially set a bowl of rice and another of cabbage soup in front of their effigy of the Kitchen God. For them, it was a greasy square of red paper with his name written in clumsy calligraphy. (Which they could now read! Thanks to me.) Kneeling before it, they thanked him for his protection all year, prayed for him to have a safe trip to Heaven, and begged that his report to the Jade Emperor be sweet. In case he needed extra convincing, Mistress Jek smeared a line of honey across the characters.

Then Master Jek ripped the paper off the wall, carried it into the yard, and burned it to send the god on his way. As the oldest child, Ailus got to toss a handful of straw onto the flames for the Kitchen God’s horse, and as the second oldest, Cailus got to pour a cup of tea on the ground for it to drink. Too young to participate, Nailus and Taila looked on with envy.

Warm and snug in Taila’s hands, I watched as the paper curled up and burned to ashes. I wondered what the Kitchen God would report on the Jek family this year – and what he would find when he finally returned to the Bureau of Reincarnation.

Once the Kitchen God was gone, we entered the Little New Year, the holiday season proper. Now there were so many visits to and from family and friends that I had to stop Taila’s lessons altogether. There was no point in starting to explain a grammar point when she was just going to spot another group coming up Persimmon Tree Lane and run off to greet them, or in trying to teach her a dance variation when Mistress Jek was just going to pull her out of class to visit another aunt.

Instead, I entrusted her survival to her parents and took my own vacation in Caltrop Pond, hanging out with Bobo and Stripey when the latter was free. It wasn’t as fun as it might have been, though, because the bamboo viper was depressed over getting fired.

“Missstress Ssshay sssaid ssshe doesssn’t need me anymore. I dunno what happened.”

The loss of that job was a disaster for me too, because Mistress Shay brewed the horrendous ale that the Dragon King of Caltrop Pond so loved.

Well, what reason did she give? I asked. You’ve worked for her for years. Surely she gave some reason.

Bobo dipped her tail into the pond and flicked water drops across the surface. Together, we watched the ripples. “Ssshe just sssaid ssshe doesssn’t need my help after the New Year. I don’t know how I’ll pay rent next year.”

Bobo lived in that stand of bamboo near Honeysuckle Croft, where I’d revealed that I was a secret agent of the gods. It was literally just a cluster of bamboo stalks, but she still had to pay Baron Claymouth to sleep there. Although the rent was low, she didn’t make much from her odd jobs and needed every single one.

If he evicted her, I’d lose my companion and source of alcohol for the Caltrop Pond parties, Mistress Jek would lose her hired help, and Taila would lose her backup babysitter. It would be inconvenient all around.

Hmmmm, let me think about it. We’ll think of something, I promised.

But that wasn’t the only piece of bad news in the dying days of the year. One evening, Master Jek returned from town looking more exhausted than usual. He barely registered Taila’s happy, “Father! You’re back! Welcome home!” and hug.

Patting the top of her head in an absent way, he sighed to Mistress Jek, “It’s no good. Master Gian said no.”

“Oh no!” she cried. “But why? I thought it was all set! At harvest-time, he said Cailus could start after the New Year! He even took the first part of the fees!”

From his pocket, Master Jek produced a long string of coppers, tied together by the square holes in their centers. “He returned it. Says he’s sorry, but he has too many apprentices.”

Cailus stared at the coins, eyes huge.

“Oh, oh,” fretted Mistress Jek. “Well…we’ll just have to find something else. If not a basket maker…maybe a carpenter? Go ask Master Gravitas! He was impressed by the chicken coop!”

Master Jek nodded. “I’ll ask next time I see ‘im.”

And on that happy note, we reached New Year’s Eve.