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bits of blanket all over the room. It circled twice around, just missing my head, then soared out the open door.
    I swiped the feathers and dirt from my face. My head felt thick, and my mouth tasted like old vinegar. My room smelled musty. I couldn’t tell if that was the griffin or the clothes I’d dropped on the floor yesterday, before dropping myself into bed.
    You look awful, Chen remarked.
    Yeah, and I feel awful. I stumbled from the bed to my washbasin and splashed water over my head. Rinsed my mouth and spat out dust and feathers. I wondered if the griffin had been swimming in my washbasin. On second thought, I didn’t want to know.
    Is she back? I whispered to Chen.
    No.
    What about—
    Gone. Then he added, I checked everywhere. Nuó is gone, too.
    Nuó was Mā mī’s companion spirit, a smoke-gray mountain cat. Nuó scared me even more than Mā mÄ« did. She scared Chen, too. That Chen had deliberately gone looking for her meant he was truly worried by Mā mī’s disappearance.
    I pulled on last night’s shirt and trousers and pounded down to Mā mī’s bedroom. It was empty, of course. I’d known it would be, but scanning the room, swept clean just yesterday, and the blankets neatly tucked around the bed, I felt a pain tugging at my gut.
    I told you she wasn’t back. Yet.
    I know. I just—
    I swallowed hard. Chen made soft snuffling noises in my ear, as though I were a baby piglet that needed comforting.
    Go away, I said. I’m fine.
    I checked the workroom again. No change there either.
    I hate nightmares that don’t stop when you wake up.
    In the kitchen, the sight of last night’s dirty dishes (one plate, one teacup, not two) checked me harder than my mother’s deserted workroom or bedroom. I spun around, ready to run and run until fright and anger bled away.
    Chen blocked my path.
    Eat first, he said. Then we make plans.
    I’m not hungry.
    He lowered his head and presented his tusks. You will be.
    With Chen prodding and poking me along, I stacked the dirty dishes in the wash basin and filled the teakettle from the courtyard well. While I waited for that to boil, I fed the shop cats and cleaned out their sandboxes. The sun was well up before I finished. I brewed a full pot of tea and chewed on some leftover dried fish cakes from the pantry. There wasn’t much else. Other than a few more packets of salted fish, our pantry was nearly empty. I’d have to visit the farmer’s markets soon, however, or I’d be eating dust.
    (Only if my mother doesn’t come back.)
    (She will.)
    (But when?)
    A small hard skull butted my hand. The griffin.
    The flat stone eyes gleamed black, and its metallic feathers glittered in the thin yellow light. When it saw it had my attention, it opened its beak and keened. All the cats scattered at the noise.
    â€œYou can’t be hungry,” I said.
    With a quick dart, it nipped my thumb.
    â€œOw!” I sucked at the bite and tasted blood. Were there such things as vampire griffins?
    The griffin keened again. I tossed a spare fish cake in its direction. It pounced and tore the cake into bits with its beak. Being dead and stuffed didn’t seem to stop it from wanting meals. Or attention or comfort, I mentally added, when it butted my hand again, demanding a scratch behind its feathered ears. I wondered what kind of magic Mā mÄ« had worked upon it.
    Thinking of my mother made my stomach churn. I tossed the griffin my last fish cake and bolted up the stairs to my room. There I picked up the leather scroll case with my special certificate, proclaiming me to be a prince of the streets. On second thought, I stopped long enough to scribble down a note for Yún, explaining that Mā mÄ« had cancelled our classes for the day. She and I would be at the special import markets to order the exotic goods from Yún’s list. Yún was to spend her free hours alone in the nearest