ROZ WAS AT least a foot taller, maybe two, and much broader. Her flowing, ankle-length gown fell to her knees, and her skin looked like granite: rough and stony, a pale peach color with black specks and glittering flecks. Her chin was squarer and her nose broader. Oh, and a horn the size of a pinecone curved upward from her forehead.
Her eyes were the same, though, so Ji didn’t freak. Not even a little.
“I look hideous,” she whispered, tears glinting.
“You look strong,” he told her.
“I sound like a goblin.”
“Who’s your favorite scholar?”
“What?”
“Just answer the question!”
“Ti-Lin-Su,” Roz said. “You know that.”
“And, uh, what’s her ‘outstanding question’?”
“Why do dragons hoard treasure?”
“You don’t sound like a goblin,” Ji told her. “You sound like Roz.”
“He’s right!” Sally called.
“And at least you’re not a magical fish. You’re part ogre, right? They’re not so bad. You saw Nin. He’s a—a friend.”
“Cub’s not a he,” Roz reminded Ji. “Ogre children aren’t boys or girls. They don’t choose which until they grow up.”
“Yeah, yeah. Well, cub’s a friend, then. And—oh!” Ji scratched the scales on his forearm. “So, um, if you’re an ogre, are you, um . . .”
“I’m still a girl!” Roz said, sounding like her old self. “Just . . . a, a monster girl.”
“Least you don’t have a tail,” Sally growled.
“At least you haven’t a horn,” Roz told her.
Ji kicked a bar. “At least neither of you are mermaids.”
“You’re not a mermaid,” Roz told him. “You’re a merman.”
He snorted. “I hope Nin’s okay.”
“Maybe he turned into a person,” Sally said.
“Yeah, but where is he?” Ji asked.
“Cub’s not a he,” Roz repeated.
“Who knows what cub is now?” Ji said, then told them about meeting Nin in the Oilpress, and again at the town house.
“Spying?” Roz asked.
“I guess the ogres wanted to know when the rite was happening.”
“Because the queen is weak after the rite?” Sally asked.
Ji didn’t want to think about that. “I suppose. So why’s Chibo in a sack?”
“The same reason you’re half trout.”
“I mean, is he okay?”
“I think so.” Sally peered with her big adorable eyes into the darkness of Chibo’s cage. “At least he’s breathing.”
“Perhaps the sack is a cocoon,” Roz rumbled.
“You think he’s turning into a butterfly?” Ji asked.
Roz sighed. “I’ve no idea. Ti-Lin-Su would know. She’s the leading authority in zozology, the study of nonhuman creatures.”
“Beasts like us,” Sally said, and her tail drooped.
A sad twang came from Roz’s cage, and Ji ducked his head, watching the water hole burble up from some underground source. Nonhuman, beastly, monstrous. He was a creature from the depths. He picked at the fish scales on his arm. His mom had wanted him to be a footman and he’d wanted to be free. Instead, he’d become a freakish half-human merman, locked in a cage.
“Speaking of Ti-Lin-Su,” Roz suddenly said. “I actually, um, did something the other day . . .”
Ji looked toward her cage. “Did what?”
“Well, erm . . .” Roz’s rumbly voice thickened with embarrassment. “Remember when you two were locked away?”
“You mean, do I remember all the way back to this morning?” Ji asked.
“Er, well, Proctor caught me trying to visit you,” Roz said. “So he banished me from the house during the days. And I called on Ti-Lin-Su. I’d hoped that she would speak with me, although I know how presumptuous that sounds.”
“It doesn’t sound presumptuous,” Ji said.
“‘Presumptuous’ barely sounds like a word,” Sally growled, still looking toward Chibo’s cage.
Roz cleared her throat. “Well, Ti-Lin-Su lives on the north side of the mountain, between a bell tower and a canal. Her home is like a fortress. It’s surrounded by high walls, with big bronze-banded doors.”
“That’s weird,” Ji said. “Why would a scholar live in a fortress?”
“If you’ll listen for a moment, I’ll tell you!” Roz scolded, like a trollish governess. “I arrived without an introduction, which you’d rightly say is the height of rudeness—”
“Not as bad as slipping through an open window,” Ji said.
“—and Ti-Lin-Su was perfectly within the bounds of polite behavior to refuse to greet me.”
“Wait, you didn’t even see her?” Sally asked. “She didn’t come to the door?”
Roz looked at the nighttime sky, a mournful expression on her granite-flecked face. “A guard at the bell tower told me that she’s a recluse. That’s why she lives in a fortress. She doesn’t see anyone, not ever. She doesn’t leave the estate. She stays in her water garden.”
Ji rubbed his neck. “Stupid recluse.”
“She’s anything but stupid, Ji.”
“You’re anything but stupid!” he said. “And what’s a water garden, anyway? Just a stupid pond, I bet. Besides, it’s her books that matter, not her. I mean, why talk to a writer? Talking to a writer is like sniffing a blacksmith or, or—”
“Singing to a potter,” Sally suggested.
“Exactly!”
A faint smile spread across Roz’s broad face. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I still have her books. That’s all that truly matters.”
“Of course I’m right,” Ji told her. “Meeting An-Hank Cordwainer wouldn’t make his boots more comfortable. So what happened when she didn’t come to the door? You just went away?”
Roz ducked her head. “Yes.”
“Hey!” Sally yipped. “Chibo’s moving!”
“Thank summer!” Ji rushed to the other side of his cage. “I can’t see—is he out of the sack?”
“No,” she said. “But he’s wriggling around.”
“That’s good,” Ji said. “Right?”
“Definitely,” Roz said. “Definitely good.”
“Chibo!” Sally yelled. “Can you hear me?”
Ji held his breath, but no answer came. Sally called Chibo’s name a few more times. Then her tufted ears slumped in adorable dismay. “At least we’re together,” she muttered. “I mean, you promised to rescue him, and you did.”
“I rescued him right into a zoo,” Ji said. “Into a sack.”
“That’s better than the tapestry weavers.”
Ji swallowed. “I still think about those other kids. All the time. The ones I left behind.”
“You didn’t have a choice,” Roz rumbled.
“I didn’t even try.” Ji’s eyes felt swollen and hot. “And they’ve been there this whole time, woven into the looms. Without help. Without hope.”
A breeze rustled the bushes, and then silence fell. Ji squatted beside the water hole. He splashed cool water on his prickly face, then cupped his hands and drank. The water tasted pure and fresh.
Ji inspected his reflection. At least his face looked the same as always. Except, no—a hint of overlapping scales was visible on his cheek, like he’d fallen asleep on a pair of snakeskin boots and woken with indentations on his skin. He traced the faint marks with a fingertip as the sound of soldiers marching echoed in the streets beyond the menagerie.
“You really think they’ll fix us?” Sally asked.
“Sure they will,” Ji said, more confidently than he felt.
“So we just wait here?”
“Yeah.”
“At least I brought a book,” Roz said.
Ji gave a surprised laugh. “You did not!”
She patted the beaded handbag strapped across her broad shoulders. “One never knows when one might find oneself locked in the Royal Menagerie after being transformed into a half ogre by a—”
You’re not half ogre! a dozen tiny voices called out. You sillybeet!
“Nin!” Ji called, leaping to his feet. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
We’re happy as a button in a head!
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Ji said. “That’s not even nonsense.”
We’re okay now, Nin’s voice said. We didn’t waste an hour weepcrying like a hundred soggy seagulls. We don’t know why you think that.
“What do you mean, we? Where are you?”
We’re here and there, Nin’s voices said. There’s more of us now, in bitty pieces. It took us longforever to find you.
“Can you hear that, Roz?” Ji asked. “Please tell me you can hear that.”
“Of course I can hear it!”
“He’s talking into our heads,” Sally said. “We’re hearing his thoughts.”
“Oh, this is all I need,” Ji said. “Nin thinking inside my head.”
We can do that now! Nin told him. And we peek you there in the stonycage, miss—you’re not half ogre, you’re half troll!
“Half troll?” Roz rumbled. “Aren’t trolls simply the eldest ogres?”
No, no, not at all, Nin scoffed, possibly from behind a big ceramic urn at Ji’s feet. Though a little yes.
Ji stared at the urn. It stood as high as his knees, and a few leafy stalks rose from the dirt—but he didn’t see a hint of ogre.
But mostly no, Nin continued. We will explain you the whole story, except first we need to tell Sneakyji something. Badnews.
“More bad news?” Ji asked the urn.
Bad badnews! Troublebig for us, and—
“Roz! Ji!” Sally yowled from the crocodile enclosure. “The sack split! Chibo is coming out!”
Ji turned away from the urn. “Finally!”
“Hey, Chibo?” Sally called. “Chibo!”
“Can you see him?” Ji peered past Sally’s cage. “Is he a butterfly?”
Troublebad bignews, Nin’s voices said.
“I am not a butterfly!” Chibo called in a piping voice.
“Okay, Chibo,” Sally growled. “Don’t freak out. Things are weird right now, but—”
“I know that,” Chibo said, his voice sweet and fluttery. “I heard everything! I’ve been awake for hours, I just couldn’t talk. Let me get out of this sack and—”
BADNEWS! all of Nin’s tiny voices shouted. LISTEN TO US, SNEAKYJI!
“Fine!” Ji said, glaring at the urn. “What? What’s so important that it can’t wait two seconds?”
They’re coming to kill you.