Near the stage, the bystanders were seated. More money and status meant more convenience and comfort. As Meilin approached, even the dignitaries and merchants and government officials arose and applauded.

Meilin forced the most natural smile she could manage. She gave small nods to faces she recognized. Everything felt brittle, fake. She wondered if the onlookers could see through her facade.

A boy at one side of the aisle yelled her name. It was Yenni, from her school. His father was a provincial official. He had made no secret of his affection for her, even though he was almost three years older. She gave him the shy smile. His face turned red and he grinned from ear to ear.

Meilin had never kissed a boy, although plenty had shown interest. She hated feeling like a trophy. Not only was her father rich, not only was he a popular general, but she was also attractive and refined. None of the boys actually knew her. She was just a prize, and there was no way of telling which aspect of the prize they wanted most.

She wondered how they would react if they knew her secret. Underneath the facial paint, beneath the expensive silks, she was not the dainty flower they imagined. She knew her manners. She could paint, she could serve tea, she could garden, she could recite poetry, she could sing. But her favorite pastime was hand-to-hand combat.

It had started innocently at age five. Her father was a general and a practical man. He had access to the best warriors in Zhong, and he’d wanted his daughter to learn the basics of defending herself. He had no idea how much aptitude she would demonstrate, nor how much she would enjoy it.

The training had gotten more serious each year. All in secret, she became the son her father never had. She could fight with knives, staves, and spears. She could use longbows, crossbows, and slings. But her favorite discipline involved combat using her hands and feet. A scant six weeks past her eleventh birthday, she could outmaneuver all but the greatest masters. She was slender, but strong. After she reached her adult size, she would be very formidable.

Meilin hoped that her spirit animal would augment her fighting skills. She knew that all sorts of powers could be derived from a strong relationship with a spirit animal. With the help of the right beast, good warriors became great, and great warriors became legends.

What species would benefit her most? Her father called her the Tiny Tiger. A tiger would be nice, or maybe a snow leopard. An ox could grant great strength. She tried not to set her heart on something too specific.

The crowd watched her enthusiastically. Only the top officials among them knew that war was coming. Soon they would all have much more than Nectar ceremonies to demand their attention.

When she reached the stage, Meilin folded her parasol and passed it to a handmaiden. She saw her father in the front of the crowd, dashing in his uniform, and gave a polite nod. She saw approval in his eyes. He was admiring her poise.

Many caged beasts were positioned on and around the stage, a royal menagerie including orangutans, tigers, pandas, foxes, alligators, cranes, baboons, pythons, ostriches, oxen, water buffalo, and even a pair of young elephants. Their province usually furnished a broad assortment, but this Bonding Day boasted the most variety she had seen. Her father had made sure of it.

On the stage awaited Sheyu, the leader of the local Greencloaks. He was dressed simply, and since his clouded leopard was not in sight, it was probably in its passive state. If she recalled correctly, he wore the tattoo on his chest.

Her father had mixed feelings about the Greencloaks. He respected them, but thought they had too much power and too many foreign ties. He didn’t like their monopoly on the Nectar and how they used it to remain involved in everyone’s affairs around the world.

Meilin was privately impressed by them. Her reasons were simple. The armies of Zhong did not invite women into their ranks, but the Greencloaks didn’t fuss about such things. They measured people by their ability.

Meilin noticed a stranger on the stage. She had a foreign air about her, in both her dress and her features. Her feet were bare. She was short and thin, with that fragile look some men preferred. The feathers in her hair gave her away as an Amayan. An exotic multicolored bird stood on the stage beside her.

Sheyu beckoned Meilin. She went to him, remembering to face the crowd. It always looked amateurish when candidates turned their backs on the audience.

In a strident voice he proclaimed the ceremonial words — the same words he always said. Meilin told herself that if her father was wrong and no spirit animal appeared, she would keep composed. Her father had made his way in the world without one — she could as well.

Sheyu held a jade decanter to her lips. Meilin took a sip. The warm fluid was a bitter shock to her tongue — it took some effort to avoid gagging. Instead she forced herself to smile as she swallowed. For an unsteady moment Meilin was afraid she would choke on the taste, and then a fiery heat filled her belly. As the warmth radiated outward, her ears started ringing.

The sky was clear, but the sun dimmed. There was a brilliant flash and she was joined onstage by a black-and-white panda. It was large for the species, with disturbing silver eyes, just like Jhi on the Great Seal of Zhong.

The panda trundled over to Meilin and reared up to place its paws against her ribs. The fiery heat instantly drained away.

For a moment, Meilin felt profoundly relaxed. She was no longer playing a role in front of a crowd. She was simply herself. She basked in the warmth of the sun, and rejoiced in the gentle currents of the air around her.

Then the moment slipped away.

Meilin stared at her new spirit animal in bewilderment. A giant panda? Nobody called giant pandas, because Jhi had been a giant panda, and Jhi was a Great Beast, one of the Fallen. A large statue of Jhi stood in the far corner of the parade ground, huge and somewhat ridiculous. A panda was basically the opposite of a tiger. More silly and cute than impressive or threatening. What skills would it bestow on a fighter? The ability to eat bamboo?

The audience made no sound. Meilin found her father’s eyes. He looked shocked.

The Amayan woman had come to her side. “I’m Lenori,” she said quietly. “I’m here to help you.”

“Are you a Greencloak?”

“I’m not wearing it, but yes. Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“I’m not supposed to be able to summon a panda.”

“Exactly.” Lenori took her hand and raised it high. “Meilin has fulfilled a prophecy that most have forgotten! Jhi the Fallen has returned to Erdas! Let us all —”

Lenori never finished her sentence, because the alarm bells started to ring, a gonging clamor reserved for emergencies. Meilin scanned the parade ground, alert. Was this connected to the invasion? That made no sense. Shar Liwao was far away, beyond the Wall of Zhong. Just as Meilin remembered to guard her expression, the great horns on the city wall sounded three times — long, low notes that warned of immediate danger.