A band. We definitely need a band. Oh! And dance performances. Good thing the Green Frog is right across the river. We’ll hire…hmm, let’s hire the same musicians who perform at the Caltrop Pond Water Court. They’re reasonable. And that’ll flatter the baron, make him feel like he’s on the same level as a dragon king. Wait! No! We should hire musicians and dancers from the capital! Yeah. Yeah. Any of you know which duke sponsors the best company? No? Fine, we’ll look into it later. We need to make a list of everything we have to do. Clerk, write it dow–

Oh. Oh. Wait. I didn’t have a clerk.

I didn’t even have paper.

What I did have was a single sheet of worn parchment; a chipped inkstick that made pale, runny ink; and an event planning committee that consisted of two farmers, a bamboo viper spirit, a whistling duck demon, a cat spirit, and a rat spirit – only two of whom knew how to write.

At the moment, all of them were wearing stunned expressions. They gaped as I paced back and forth across the Jeks’ lone table, planning a gala to celebrate the completion of our schoolhouse.

Well, that was to be expected. They’d seen Piri the turtle-shaped partyer; Piri the tutor; Piri the local community leader; Piri the emissary from Heaven, summoner of star sprites. What they hadn’t seen yet was Piri the hostess of the Imperial Court.

Stripey, write it all down, I instructed one of the other two literate people at the table.

The duck demon eyeballed me until I sighed, (mentally) rolled my eyes, and added, Please. Only then did he reach for the brush.

Cassius’ clerks had never required pleases or thank-yous.

“What am I writing down, precisely?”

Cassius’ clerks had never required me to repeat myself either. Say what you would about the man, he’d gotten some things right.

Write down a to-do list. Please. Number one: Hire the best playing company in the capital. Oh, right, someone’ll have to arrange transportation for them out here too.

Actually, come to think of it, I wasn’t even sure what the capital of East Serica was. The City of Dawn Song, Cassius’ capital, perhaps? I hadn’t bothered to check on Floridiana’s map, not that I trusted it anyway. Where was the border between East and North Serica on the map that Flicker had shown me? I mostly remembered that it was in a state of constant flux – but did it wobble back and forth to the west of the City of Dawn Song?

Eh, not my problem. I’d delegate the details to someone with an understanding of logistics, the way I always had. Stripey was pretty good at it. He could handle getting the performers from wherever the capital was to the Claymouth Barony.

Number two: Hire chefs. You can’t have a gala without a banquet. Well, if we’re already bringing in musicians and dancers from the capital, we might as well hire chefs there too. They’ll be better than anyone out here. What else do we need food-wise? A menu. We have to draw up a menu. Ten courses or twelve?

“Ten!” Bobo broke in. Swept up in my excitement, she was waving her tail. “We ssshould have ten! ‘Cause ten’s a lucky number!”

I’d been leaning towards twelve myself, but I wanted her to feel that her contributions were valued, so I agreed, That’s a good idea. Let’s go with ten. Any thoughts on specific dishes?

Naturally, we’d have the standard soup, noodle, and fish courses.

Fancy fish. Not catfish.

“Cheese and nuts!” Master Rattus’ voice lifted up in a squeak. “We gotta serve cheese and nuts!”

Cheese and nuts?

Those hadn’t been banquet staples in Cassius’ court even when rat lords and ladies were in attendance, but sure. Why not? We could have serving boys and girls circulate with platters before everyone sat down for the main meal.

It was only then that I realized Stripey hadn’t written down a single word. Stripey? Do you need me to show you how to write some of the characters? It’s fine if you don’t use my exact wording. I’ll know what you mean.

The duck sighed and waddled towards the center of the table. Confused, I moved aside for him.

“Rosie. How are you planning to pay for all of this?”

I blinked. Pay?

“Yes. Hiring top-notch performers and chefs, buying top-notch ingredients, transporting all of them here – how much will it cost? Where were you planning to get the coins? Because we’re not talking a matter of coppers or even silvers. This is going to cost golds.”

A gasp escaped Mistress Jek. Master Jek gave a short whistle. He caught himself, but she kicked him anyway.

Oh…. Oh…. Caught off guard, I floundered. I looked from face to face around the table, searching for inspiration.

Bobo and Master Rattus were blinking too, as they tumbled out of a fantasy of luxury foods and thudded back down in, well, the Claymouth Barony. Master Gravitas was regarding us all with his usual silence, recording every word, gesture, and facial expression in his memory so he could report them to Boot. Master Jek was also regarding me in silence, but less because he was memorizing the scene and more because he had nothing to say. Or perhaps nothing he dared to say. Finally, his wife was opening and shutting her mouth, looking as if she very much had very many things she wanted to say and was only barely containing herself.

Golds, golds…. How did people get golds around here?

We’ll just borrow the money from you and pay you back later. After the school opens and we start collecting fees from the students. Three percent interest, right?

I thought that settled the financial aspect, but Stripey stayed in the center of the table and continued to stare at me. He was starting to make me uncomfortable.

Yeeees, Stripey? Did you have another concern?

“I’m starting to see why – ” He swallowed the rest of the sentence, further confusing me. “Okay. Rosie. I hate to break it to you, but my treasury isn’t bottomless. I have no idea how much money you will need for this party you’re planning, but I really don’t think I have that much. And even if I did, I wouldn’t lend it to you. Because I don’t see how you can ever pay it back.”

Certainly none of Cassius’ clerks had ever said that to me!

I beg your pardon?

“It means ‘no’.”

No?!

“No.”

But you’re my treasurer! I sputtered. Your whole job is to provide funding for my projects!

Stripey muttered to himself, “Now I really see why…,” before informing me, “I am not your treasurer. You don’t have a treasury. I am your banker, and as your banker, I am telling you that you won’t be able to repay the loan. So I’m not making it. And that’s final.”

I was crestfallen, but as I didn’t exactly have an army with which to take the money from my banker (or, if I were being honest, the inclination to send an army against my friend), that was that.

In the end, our “We Built a Schoolhouse!” celebration turned out to be a simple affair. The only resemblance it bore to the gala I’d envisioned was that there was food, and there were people.

Basically, we organized a village fair on the patch of common wasteland that was our future playground. A bunch of vendors and shopkeepers moved their operations there for the day, dotting the field with stalls, tables, and carts. They sold toys, savory and sweet buns, candied fruits, and, to the delight of Master Rattus and his vassals, nuts and cheese.

In his infinite magnanimity (to quote Anasius), the baron waived the permit for holding a public gathering. However, at Mistress Jek’s suggestion, we charged the vendors a fee anyway. When they grumbled, Master Gravitas explained that all proceeds were going to the school, and as most of them had children and grandchildren they planned to send to us, they grumbled less.

Naturally, the star event was the arrival of the baron and his entourage. By the time they showed up, the fair was in full swing. Children were shrieking and chasing one another, clutching animals braided from long grasses. Their parents, grandparents, aunties, uncles, and older cousins were gossiping and munching skewers of sticky rice balls drizzled with sweet syrup. I watched it all from the thatched roof of the school, where Stripey and I had been sitting side by side before baron approached and the bandit beat a hasty retreat.

I wasn’t planning to introduce myself either. Walking to the edge of the roof, I warned a rat spirit who was waiting in the wall for just this news: He’s coming. Then I buried myself in the straw.

The rat spirit scuttled down to warn Master Rattus, who then alerted the rest of the taskforce. The merriment died as the elder Jeks, Master Gravitas, Bobo, and Master Rattus arranged themselves before the door of the schoolhouse. Other adults collected the better-behaved and cleaner children and lined them up in front of the taskforce with orders to “Smile!” and “Don’t forget to bow!” Standing a little ahead of them, Taila waited with a posy of wildflowers. (The floral design was mine, of course.)

“Make way! Make way for the Right Honorable Baron Claymouth!”

The voice, louder than a trumpet, boomed out across the field, and everyone bowed as the baron escorted his wife onto the school grounds. Behind him marched his sons and daughters, attendants, squire, and pageboys and girls. Even his old wetnurse trundled along in a rickshaw, squinting at the schoolhouse through milky eyes. All of them were wearing their best, just as they had for the Dragon Boat Festival.

The Claymouth nobles still weren’t that impressive, but I was gratified that they were taking my project so seriously.

When the procession entered the schoolyard, Taila stepped forward with her posy. She bowed and recited in her high, girlish voice, “Thank you for honoring us with your visit, my lord. These flowers are for her ladyship, if she will do us the honor of accepting them.”

The baroness returned a warm smile, bent so she was nearly at eye level with Taila, and took the posy. “Why, what lovely flowers! And what a pretty young lady you are!” she exclaimed, seemingly sincerely. “Thank you very much.”

Her memorized lines over, Taila went off script to inform her, “Your necklace is pretty. Isn’t it heavy?”

There was a collective wince from all the adults as they mentally inserted “my lady” and tried to will the honorific out of Taila.

No such luck.

But the baroness missed or ignored the rudeness. With another smile, she straightened, and the baron chuckled and patted Taila on the head.

Claymouth people were just plain weird. None of Cassius’ nobles would have touched a peasant girl’s hair. Who knew if it had lice?

Since Taila didn’t seem to have any intention of ceding the floor, at last Master Gravitas, as the most respectable member of the taskforce, stepped forward to welcome Baron Claymouth properly. He led the nobles on a “tour” of the one-room schoolhouse that was all the baron’s clerks had allowed us to build. After that, the nobles stayed at the fair for a half hour longer, buying snacks and mingling with the farmers and townsfolk until the Dragon Moon heat overwhelmed them and they retreated to their castle.

Once they were gone, everyone relaxed. The children started racing and screaming at the tops of their lungs, while the adults overanalyzed everything about each of the nobles. Stripey flew back from wherever he’d been hiding, and I crawled out of the straw. Together, we watched the festivities until the sun set, the vendors dismantled their stalls, and the parents dragged their children home.

The fair had been simple, but I had to admit that it possessed a certain rustic charm.

Afterwards, the taskforce gathered in the schoolroom to celebrate our very first official school event. For the occasion, Master Gravitas even donated a wooden coffer in which to store our earnings. After we had counted up the coppers and stacked them in the box, Stripey looked at me.

“Now you have a treasury.”

And a treasurer too? I asked, not entirely sarcastically.

He gave his trademark wing shrug. “Sure.”

As I regarded the little stacks of coppers, an unexpected wave of contentment swept through me. On the whole, I would have preferred a lavish gala, but the fair hadn’t been bad, and for the first time in any of my many, many lives, I had my own treasury.

I had my own treasury.

That felt good.