Forty-One: You’re Breaking the Law
Lia’s home sat in a corner of the South Market. Led by the little werewolf, Lilith found a privately carved hidden door wedged between a few stalls and two shops. Lia jabbed the panel—clang, clang—then shoved the door and brought the Little White Dragon inside.
Heat met Lilith the moment she crossed the threshold—an eager welcome, but not from Ma or a cluster of foster kids. It was a smell, thick as tar and older than rain.
It was the strangest reek: like fermented mandarin fish left out for days, mixed with a pile of socks from a northern construction worker, stewing for a week. The stench surged in one swell, almost knocking Lilith out.
“Ugh, what in the nine winds is that stink?” Lilith clamped her nose, complaining. The Little White Dragon flapped her tiny hand in front of her face. The air didn’t thin; it thickened, pressing like damp wool. Lilith gave up trying to chase it away, quickened her steps, and aimed to finish this fast.
“We’ve got a lot of kids at home. Little ones fall sick often. The rooms hardly breathe. So the smell stacks up by itself.” Lia scratched her head, embarrassed. “Sorry. I’ll take you to Ma now. We’ll settle it quick.”
Annoyance pricked first, then words. “Do you even get what I’m here to do?” Ever since the Little White Dragon slipped and called her the mother of two, Lia’s attitude had flipped a full 180—no more snapping at the Little White Dragon, no more caring what Lilith actually wanted. She kept steering the Little White Dragon toward her Ma.
“You’re here to see Ma,” Lia answered, simple as a pup.
“And after I see Ma, then what?” Lilith’s tone soured.
“I don’t know. I’m not you.” Lia said it like gravity. “Whatever you want from Ma is your business. I just bring you to her. Also… please don’t let Ma dock my food. My third sister caught a cold. I want her to eat more and get her strength back.”
“I’ll try.” Confusion, then resignation. The Little White Dragon was used to minds sharper than hers—riddle-makers who toyed with her, and rivals like Abaddon who at least matched her. Facing someone whose head worked worse than the dragon’s tiny one, Lilith was at a loss. After a beat, she offered, “I’ll see if I can get your third sister some food and medicine, alright?”
“Yay!” Lia did a happy hop, threw Lilith a quick hug, then led her at a trot toward Ma.
Lilith sighed inside, a willow bending in wind. Get their Ma to the City Lord’s mansion fast, then send these little ones to the orphanage and the hospital.
As Lia guided her through the house, Lilith noticed more than one child even smaller than Lia peeking with round, curious eyes. She couldn’t place Lia’s age—the werewolf race blurred it—but the girl felt early teens.
The others were younger still. A few around Abaddon’s size looked just past ten. More were beansprouts barely taller than a soup bowl, three or four at most.
Lilith also saw two werewolf girls about Lia’s age. One held bowl and chopsticks, doling out food to the littles. The other, pale and spent, leaned in a cleaner corner, fingers weaving clothes like rain threading reeds.
They passed the pair, Lia calling greetings in a sing-song. Lilith was sure they were the little werewolf’s sisters. She barely had time to look before Lia tugged her deeper into the house.
“Ma! I’m back!” Lia stopped before a room tucked at the far end. It wasn’t like the rest. The house elsewhere wore wet stains and peeled plaster, as if floodwater had chewed it. Only this door shone, scrubbed to a quiet brightness, like a different world cast in soap.
The little werewolf called out, pushed the door, and slipped in.
Lilith followed and paused.
Surprise pricked—not at any lavish finery.
Quite the opposite. The room was plain as a winter courtyard. Familiar, mass-market furniture; Lilith had seen the brand while shopping today. The cash in the Little White Dragon’s purse could buy several sets.
The person inside wasn’t the rough market aunt Lilith had pictured, either. She was an elf—beautiful, mature, with a breeze of charm.
She sat on the sofa, cradling a book as thick as a brick. Glasses framed her eyes, and her gaze was deep in print. Hearing footsteps not Lia’s, she looked up at once. By chance, her eyes met Lilith’s—sparks, then calm.
“Oh? A rare guest. I didn’t expect Lia to bring a friend home.” The elf rose, set her book on the sofa, and offered Lilith a hand. “And you are?”
“You don’t recognize me?” Lilith took her hand. The Little White Dragon wasn’t bragging, but she’d danced at the Coining Festival as an outsider. Even if Lamter locals didn’t know her name, they shouldn’t forget this face. How could someone not recognize her?
“Forgive me. I burrow in the South Market. I seldom go out, and hardly meet tourists from beyond the city. I’m sorry I haven’t heard your name.” Ma dipped her head, regret shading her tone like dusk.
“Really? Don’t tell me you even skipped the Coining Festival?” The Little White Dragon bristled. She’d burned days preparing for it. How could someone in Lamter not remember her face? Lilith felt her temper spark.
“The Coining Festival? Of course I went.” Ma frowned, thinking. Then she brightened and tapped her temple. “I remember now. So it’s the outsider lady gracing our humble home. What an honor… Only, what does the outsider lady need from me?”
“Cut the salon patter. Flowery lines go over my head.” Lilith narrowed her eyes at Ma. Her voice went hard, like steel in rain. “I suspect you of trafficking children and forcing them into robbery. That’s illegal. You’re coming with me.”
