AS THE MOONS shone down from a cloudless sky, the steam from the vaporized tree covered the city in a dense fog.
Soldiers ransacked every room of Ti-Lin-Su’s estate, and elite squads ventured into the long, reeking tunnel toward the coast. In the Forbidden Palace, bucket crews poured water on the smoldering fires. Work crews returned sleeping terra-cotta warriors to their pedestals. And a young goblin peeked from a canal drain and daydreamed about combs.
Lower on the mountainside, Ji limped toward a neighborhood packed with canals and waterwheels. Roz walked beside him, her face hidden in her hood, holding Nin’s urn under one arm. Chibo held her other hand—then stopped suddenly.
“This is the Oilpress!” he fluted. “We’re a stone’s throw from the tapestry weavers.”
“And this time,” Ji said, “we’re not leaving anyone in chains.”
Sally bounded down from a nearby wall. “The coast is clear.”
“You—” Chibo beamed at Ji, his green eyes glowing. “I told them we’d come back! I knew you’d save them!”
Sally prowled closer. “What happens when we get there?”
“We tear down the looms,” Ji told her, a savage note in his voice. “We release the kids. And we stomp anyone who gets in our way.”
“Then we’ll sneak out of the city?” Sally asked.
“Yeah, we need to hide for a while. Until it’s safe to search for Ti-Lin-Su.”
“Hiding won’t be easy,” Roz rumbled. “We’re not exactly human anymore.”
“That’s true,” Ji told her. “But we are exactly free.”
Chibo fluted a laugh, Sally growled in triumph—and Roz’s smile still looked like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.
Ji kicked his tattered sandals off his clawed feet. He didn’t know if they could escape the realm; he didn’t know if they could break the spell. But he knew one thing: he’d never be a servant again.
And deep in his heart, a dragon roared.