Floridiana and Dusty were leaving. At long last, they were actually leaving.
Early in the morning, before the sun rose above the roofline of Goldhill, the two of them inspected their wagon one last time. We (well, Temple servants) had packed it with bolts of silk for bribing Baron Claymouth when he got unreasonable, pouches of dried lychees to share with the Jeks and Den and all our other friends, the finest colored inksticks that Camphorus Unus could find – and paper.
So much paper. Stacks and stacks of different types of paper, ranging from thick and creamy to fragile and translucent. They were wrapped in oilcloth and stamped with spells to keep out the humidity.
Floridiana tested the ropes that tied down the packages, while Dusty snuffled at them uselessly.
Your saliva is going to soak through the wrapping and ruin the paper, I warned from the wagon seat.
He flared his nostrils and blew at me, but not hard enough to knock me off. I supposed he was going to miss me too.
Floridiana lingered over the last rope longer than she needed to. None of us rushed her.
"Look what Lady Anthea sssent!" called Bobo from the door. She slithered down the steps, a heaping platter of white sugar rice cakes balanced on her coils. Stripey hovered, ready to catch the plate if it slid off. "Ssshe sssays to eat them fassst becaussse they'll ssspoil in this heat."
Floridiana picked one up but didn't seem to see it. "You're sure you don't want a ride home, Bobo?"
"Uh-uh. Thanks, but I'm sssure. Ssstripey's here, and Rosssie too! Sssay hi to everybody!"
"Will do." Floridiana nodded without surprise, then scanned the courtyard as if she were memorizing it. She'd already sketched the Temple thoroughly, from all angles, using her new colored inks, and written down copious notes about everything, so she didn't need to trust her fallible human memory. But I opted not to point that out.
Footsteps pattered up the street and through the front gates: Lodia, out of breath, clutching a parcel, with Katu in tow.
"Oh, thank goodness, you're still here! I thought I missed you!" She thrust the parcel at Floridiana, suddenly shy again. "I made something for you. As a thank-you present. For, um...." She gestured at the spectacles on her nose.
"Why, thank you, Lodia. Or, should I say, Matriarch?"
"Oh, well, I...." Lodia lifted her hands, as if to twist them together, but then deliberately straightened all ten fingers and dropped her arms again.
Floridiana gave her an encouraging smile. "You'll do just fine. You'll make a fine Matriarch, Lodia."
She unwrapped the parcel to reveal a silk purse, embroidered with lotuses and – a playful sparrow that looked very much like me. The mage's lips twitched when she saw it. In amusement, I thought.
"It is beautiful, Lodia. I will treasure it forever."
Mumbling that she was glad Floridiana liked it, Lodia backed up until she bumped into Katu. He put his hands on her arms to steady her, then kept them on her shoulders as he, too, said his farewells.
"Thank you, Mage Floridiana, for everything you have done for the Temple. Please accept this as a token of my gratitude." And he proffered a small book – containing the collected hymns and sermons to the Kitchen God that he had composed. "We intend to distribute this throughout Serica, but this is the very first copy. I hope you will share it with those in the Claymouth Barony and use it to teach them the proper mode of worship of the Divine Intercessor."
YOU ARE READING
The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox
FantasyAfter Piri the nine-tailed fox follows an order from Heaven to destroy a dynasty, she finds herself on trial in Heaven for that very act. Executed by the gods for the "crime," she is cast into the cycle of reincarnation, starting at the very bottom...
