Year of the Rabbit

      “Happy Lunar New Year,” said Kitoypoy to Sable over breakfast.   Sable looked up from her rice toast and lactose-free yogurt with a smile. “Oh yeah, that’s right, too. Happy New Year, Kit.” Did they celebrate the Lunar New Year in Filipino culture? She didn’t know for sure, but she imagined they must. The Philippines had a significant Chinese population, after all. “Are there traditions we ought to be observing at the Warren today? Aside from the fireworks tonight, of course.” She had Hong Bao she’d been saving for today, in fact. She figured that regardless of cultural heritage, she couldn’t go wrong with monetary gifts in lucky red envelopes.   “We should have had the fireworks last night at midnight,” Kit explained with a smile. “But that’s okay. We know you’re trying.”   Sable shook her head. “You’d think I’d have thought of that. Jewish culture celebrates a lunar calendar, too, and their — our — day starts at sundown on the previous evening. It should have occurred to me to ask. But I guess better late than never, eh?”   Wait, what time was it? Sable glanced at her phone, and realized with a familiar sinking feeling she had to be in Vancouver in 45 minutes for the annual Lunar New Year parade. She’d promised last year when the Vancouver mayor had specifically asked, because this was the Year of the Rabbit.   “Dammit, I’m late again.” She wolfed down the rest of her breakfast – not much food, really, but the best she could manage this early in the morning, and she really didn’t need Flubb narrowing those icy blue cat eyes in her direction at this hour. She downed a few glugs of her Void coffee and poured the rest into her trusty no-leak travel mug, then topped it up and splashed in some oat milk. “Is what I’m wearing okay, or am I going to need to change?”   Kitoypoy shrugged. “There isn’t really a dress code. You might want to consider wearing something red. It’s considered auspicious.”   Well, at least it wouldn’t have to be some kind of formal gown or something then. She supposed her usual T-shirt and jeans wouldn’t do, though. That might be thought of as disrespectful. “I think I still have that really pretty satin blouse…” It was a thrift store acquisition from before she was a real Queen, and it was so out of fashion it was cool again. Still, not much protection against the elements. “Will the red jacket I wore at Tomesmas do, do you think?” She considered it. “Or would it be better if I wore Lapin pink?”   Now Kitoypoy laughed. “I dunno, Sable-rah. Pink is appropriate for spring. It’ll probably work.”   “Better grab Tempest. We’re going to have to Tang Portal if we’re going to make it on time. I’ll get changed.” Sable rushed to her office chamber and quickly buttoned up the blouse. She’d forgotten how pretty its mother-of-pearl buttons were, but they were slippery and hard to fasten.   She selected a necklace of freshwater pearls because she vaguely remembered pearls were supposed to be auspicious, too. She shoved her arms into her Lapin pink long coat while she stuffed her feet into her favourite weatherproofed leather boots with the good rubber treads — winter often meant rain in Vancouver. Last, she donned the white fuzzy half-gloves and bunny ears that had become her trademark, and the simple silver and moonstone moon crown she preferred when a crown must be worn.   Tempest came to the door, dressed in their usual “fire-casual” style — flame orange T-shirt, jeans, orange Crocs. Sable was to blame for the Crocs. They were Sable’s preferred footwear around the Warren, and she’d sung the praises of how they were both shoes and slippers and really comfy, and Tempest was hooked. Their scarred orange rabbit ears were sticking out, but they’d managed short brown hair instead of a torrent of flame. Mostly awake, then, even though they were yawning and scratching their butt. “Sis, I wish you’d told me I had to be up for this,” they grumbled. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”   “Sorry, I forgot. Here, have some of mine. We can grab some more on the way.” She handed over her travel mug.   Tempest was just tipping it back when Flubb appeared, making a beeline for them with a determined gleam in her glittering, slitted eyes. Her calico dwarven beard braids were streaming behind her.   “Oh no, you don’t,” she tisked, fixing both of them with a death glare. She reached into a sack slung over one arm and handed another travel mug to Tempest, along with a coil of salami. “You have to eat something. And you are not going anywhere without lunch and your prescription!” She shoved the sack and a sports bottle into Sable’s hands, almost forcing her to drop her phone.   Oh, right. Sable had almost managed to forget. The bottle sloshed with a now familiar sound. Probably Crocoade rather than the much-preferred “rabbit crack” a mix of carrot and banana juices. Well, she supposed it kept better.   She pinned it awkwardly to her belt loop with the carabiner without protest. She was still under strict doctor’s orders to keep her caloric intake and electrolyte levels up, since being hospitalized for magic drain after the war. Her protests that she’d been the recipient of both a Heal spell and a Greater Restoration right out of roleplaying games had fallen on deaf ears.   Tempest handed Sable back her coffee and took a gulp of their own. Even with the spout cracked open for just a moment, Sable could see the steam pouring out. Tempest, of course, was unharmed.   She shook her head, marveling at her sibling’s power. She wished she had the guts to put that to the test herself. Wouldn’t it be so useful, if she, too, were immune to heat and flame! She supposed she’d better try risking it before the next war, though. It would be a good thing to know. But for now, it just seemed to be Tempest’s flames she was immune to.   Tempest’s flames, and the Overflow. Most of the time.   Well, that was already a miracle, and she wasn’t ungrateful. Somebody had to be able to hold Tempest when they cried. Even Buddha couldn’t do it.   “We can get food at the festival,” Sable said to Flubb, bringing her mind back to the present. “There’s going to be a million food vendors there. Vancouver turns it into a kind of Pan-Asian community event. Pho and salad rolls! Maybe satay beef!” She knew those were gluten free for a fact, and they were among her favourite foods anyway.   Flubb was undeterred. “If you remember to get food, that’s fine! But this way, you won’t have to remember.” She took the bag and hooked the handle firmly over Sable’s shoulder. “Spam sandwiches on rice bread. Nothing fancy. So if it ends up back in the Warren fridge tomorrow, I don’t care.”   Sable knew better than to argue. She grinned. Engaging Flubb as the Royal Cook was one of the best decisions she’d ever made. She and Tempest now had their own personal Self Care Mafioso ready to hand, and damned if she didn’t actually make both of them listen, which even Sunny could not do. It’s because we know she’d be genuinely hurt and upset if we didn’t. And Frith knew they needed the babysitting.   “Okay, we’ll take the food. Thank you.” She reached into a jar of amethyst on one of the bookshelves and shoved a few into her coat pocket. “There. Now I’m prepared for anything.”   “Have a good time, don’t forget to hydrate, take frequent rests,” Flubb chattered goodnaturedly.   “I’ll do my best,” Sable promised. She doubted there would be much resting. She’d been a child the last time she’d been to the Vancouver Lunar New Year festival, but she remembered a lot of noise and colour and people and smells. She also remembered sore feet. “We ready?”   Kitoypoy ran through a manual check of his various weaponry. “Ready,” he said after a minute or so.   “I suppose,” said Tempest with another yawn.   “Do you have your weapons, Sable-rah?” Kitoypoy reminded her.   Right. Sable sighed. “No, I’d almost managed to successfully dodge that, thank you, Kit.” There was more than a little sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Are you going to insist I carry the .44, or can I get away with my falchion or maybe just a dagger? We’re not currently at war.”   “Carry something, sis, or I’m going to insist you wear the combat vest,” Tempest growled.   “I hate the combat vest. It’s hot. And bulky.” Sable looped her weapons belt through her jeans and slid the falchion over so it rested gently on her hip. “There. Can we go now?” Goddamn mother hens, she thought, but her irritation faded almost immediately. They all just want to take care of me. I’m lucky to have so many people who do. And they’re doing it for me, not just the Protectorate, and I know it.   “Ready when you are,” Kitoypoy said brightly.   “All right, where are we going?” Tempest muttered, taking another long swallow of their coffee.   Sable unlocked her phone and ran a quick search. “Here,” she said, showing Tempest a beautifully colourful Asian gate with three portals standing over a bustling city street. “The Millennium Gate, on Pender Street.”   “Oh, that’s pretty.” Tempest shook their hands out and cracked their knuckles.   “Oh shit, wait! I almost forgot the Hong Bao!” Sable reached into her closet and removed the panel that concealed her safe. Until late last year, it had been sealed with an old-fashioned combination lock, but now there was a retinal scanner. She stood in place until the light had passed over her eyes, amused by the fact that anyone trying to fake it would have to squat awkwardly, since the scanner was at her eye level.   The safe popped open with a flash of green light and a friendly beep. She took out a leather fanny pack and strapped it on over the weapon belt. It wasn’t terribly impressive to look at, but it had been charmed with the same enchantment that gave Rowean’s backpack seemingly unlimited storage space.   “Okay, finally ready,” said Sable. The safe door made a simple snick! noise as the airlock re-sealed itself. She replaced the panel, too.   “Stand clear,” said Tempest. They thrust their hands forth and summoned the swirling tunnel of fire from the Overflow that formed their unique teleportation portal. Few knew how much effort that took, but the flicker of fiery sweat on Tempest’s brow was enough to tell Sable the truth of it, even if she hadn’t shared a direct empathic link a couple of times.   Sable didn’t delay. She slammed up the electromagnetic force field bubble that could protect other people from the Tang portal’s deadly heat and radiation, and stepped in to fill the portal with that field.     Bright, churning orange liquid whooshed around her. This stuff might look like a glass of Tang being stirred up really, really fast, but it was actually raw plasma. It should incinerate her instantly. The fact that it didn’t was still a wonder she hadn’t quite gotten over.   On the other side of the tunnel was a grey, overcast sky, just as she’d expected. She hoped it wasn’t raining. On the other hand, Sable mused, it would probably be warm rain.   Kitoypoy stepped through the portal. “Good morning,” he said in a cheery tone, which sounded like it was coming from a great distance from inside the portal. “Gong hay fat choy! Sable-rah will be following shortly. Please stand clear.”   Sable gave it a moment more, to allow people to step back to a sufficient distance for Kit to feel comfortable, and then she stepped through the portal, dropping the force field as she did so. “Xīn nián hǎo!” she greeted whomever was on the other side, having carefully practiced the Mandarin New Year salutation over the past week or so. She was still having trouble seeing more than vague shapes and outlines as she blinked away the brightness of the portal, but thankfully, no, it was not raining.   Moments later, Tempest was behind her, and the portal closed with an audible reverberating pop.   “Your Majesty,” said one of the shapes, a masculine voice, and he came forward to shake her hand, even as he offered the more traditional neck bow. His golden brown hand was small, only barely covering her furry glove. “Welcome back to Vancouver. Is this your first time in Chinatown, ma’am?”   His face came into focus. Ah yes, this was the mayor. She remembered that he was Chinese Canadian, and had vowed to revitalize Vancouver’s Chinatown, an idea she supported. “Mr. Sim. Good to meet you in person at last. No, not my first time, but I admit, I was a child when my cousins brought me here and I barely remember it.”   Her maternal cousins were from Burnaby. They’d visited the Lower Mainland a lot when Sable was small, riding down overnight on the Greyhound. That had stopped as tensions rose between Sable’s mother and uncle.   She had fond memories, though. It was too bad that only Sonja had made it through the First Word War. She couldn’t say she grieved, exactly; the distance through the lens of time was too great. But she was sad all of a sudden. You really ought to introduce Sonja and Tempest while you’re here, she chided herself.   Suddenly, for the first time in a while, she missed her brother. That was real grief, not just the shadow of it. She sighed.   The mayor frowned. Can’t keep your emotions off your face, even now, can you? Sable grumbled at herself. Better keep talking; you don’t want him to think you’re displeased with him somehow. “Sorry, I was woolgathering,” she explained. “Remembering family who are no longer with us. You’ve already met Commander Kitoypoy, I see—” Kit shook his hand— “and this is my sibling, Prinx Tempest.”   “Your Royal Highness,” Mayor Sim said politely, offering his hand to Tempest too.   Tempest shook it, blinking. “Hi,” they blurted awkwardly.   Sable tried not to grin. Yes, that’s the proper form of address, Torch, she thought affectionately. Maybe she ought to get people at the Warren to call them that more often. Clearly, they needed to get used to it.   She turned to take in the rest of the politicians and their entourage, and smiled when she saw a face she recognized. “Mr. Eby. Good to see you again.” She shook hands with the current BC Premier. She liked him, despite the fact that he was a lawyer. A bit stuffy, but he was a dedicated New Democrat, and she couldn’t help but appreciate someone who’d taken on election corruption, money laundering in casinos, Big Pharma in the opioid crisis, and reintroduced no fault driving insurance in the province during his career as Attorney General. She had personal reasons to care about all of those things.   And he’d also written a book on rights for people who were arrested in Canada. He’d confided he was working on a new one for the Lapin Protectorate when they’d chatted at the last function they’d both been at. She seemed to recall it had been some benefit for the BC Cancer Society.   “Your Majesty,” he said, returning her genuine smile with one of his own.   “How’s that book coming?”   He laughed. “Slowly,” he admitted. “Maybe you could give me some pointers on increasing writing speed, ma’am. You’re a Defender of the Realm, after all.”   Sable grinned. “Write on your phone during your lunch break and commute,” she said immediately. “I wrote about half of my first novel that way.”   “I never even thought of that,” he said. “I tend to use that time to weed my email, but… yes, that’s a great idea, ma’am, thank you.”   She was distracted by a gaggle of young girls, all in pink traditional Chinese costume, running away from the Millennium Gate, ahead of an irritated middle-aged woman who shouted at them in Cantonese. Sable spoke neither of the major Chinese dialects, but it was plain to see that she was exhorting them to hurry.   “Aren’t we supposed to be starting soon?” Sable asked, fighting her excitement and impatience. “I know we didn’t have much time when we arrived.”   “Aren’t you going to sit in the observation station, Your Majesty?” asked one of the various politicians in the entourage. “We’ve set one up for you on the corner of Quebec Street and Keefer Street, at the tennis courts there.”   Sable grinned impishly. “I thought I would march in the parade with you, if you don’t mind.”   Kitoypoy levelled a long-suffering look in Sable’s direction. This had not been part of his plan.   Nor had it been part of Tempest’s. “I knew I should have made you wear the vest,” they hissed quietly in Sable’s ear.   But Sable had been betting that Tempest’s natural enthusiasm and sense of fun would turn the tide in her favour. She saw the resistance collapse in her sibling’s face, proving she had not been wrong. “It’s been years since I’ve been in a parade, though,” they murmured wistfully.   Seeing he had lost the battle, Kitoypoy improvised. “Isn’t it about time we brought in the Headhunters, Sable-rah?”   Kit had made his counteroffer: Okay, I’ll compromise, but you’re accepting a full guard compliment. Well, that was fair enough. And since part of their training and practice was traditional Filipino dancing, long used as a cover for martial training under Colonial rule, they would fit right in.   “Yes, I believe you’re right, Commander,” Sable said amiably.   “Right, second Tang portal coming up,” Tempest said, now only slightly grumpy. Sable figured the temptation of being in a parade would soothe their sibling’s ruffled fur. Besides, she could tell that Tempest’s natural inclination to be contradictory for the sake of it was amused by Kit’s frustration.   Eyes were drawn by the appearance of the second Tang portal. Sable hadn’t yet seen the destination end, except for the brief moments when Tempest occasionally stepped through it, but she guessed it wasn’t nearly as bright as the entry point. Sable could see a Sikh family pointing over in their direction, while a few more people on the street around them laid an awning over their eyes with a hand to see more clearly.   Sable moved into the Tang tunnel. “See you in a minute, Kit.”   Kitoypoy hopped through, casting Sable a stern glare as he did so. “Give me ten minutes and then you can reopen the portal. Tempest, you’ve got the watch.”   “You got it, Commander,” Tempest said, this time with no hint of resistance in their voice.   The Premier and the Mayor introduced the rest of the faces around them. Sable filed their names firmly into the “short term focus” folder in her brain, and made sure to repeat each name as it was given, so it would stick in her brain as long as it needed to. She knew by tomorrow she’d have flushed the works. She’d never been the best at remembering names, although this was a skill she’d been practicing, complete with mnemonic tricks, since the Protectorate’s founding.   She saw the Premier speak to someone out of the corner of her eye, and a few minutes later, a unit of British Columbia Dragoons had rolled up behind them with a tactical armoured vehicle, replacing the marching band that had been there before.   Sable couldn’t help but smile. Clearly, the Premier was concerned for her safety, too. Had he asked for volunteers to guard the Queen from the military units in the parade?   After the Battle of Kin Beach, she had won absolute loyalty from the Dragoons. She didn’t feel she deserved it. Destroying a couple of battalions of zombies with a massive "Turn Undead" explosion had been the result of her emotional reaction, and a set of magical circumstances she was sure was unique. Honestly, she didn’t even remember doing it, although she remembered Monkey's death readily enough. She shuddered at the recollection, so vivid she could even smell the blood.   But since then, the Dragoons would probably literally march on the gates of Hell if she asked them to. They were calling her by the title she’d picked up from the Second Word War now, the “Holy Queen of Buns.” Frankly, the whole thing made her acutely uncomfortable. “Holy” was something she was definitely not. She had to dissuade them of this somehow.   When ten minutes had passed, Tempest reopened the portal, and Kitoypoy and his elite “dance troupe” moved past Sable to come through. Although they were dressed in Yakan dance costume — basically, black shalwar kamiz with bright red corsairish sashes and bandanas — the spears they carried were functional. And most of them had been blooded at least once, now. The Headhunters took up a position in front of the dignitaries, shields at the ready.   Surprisingly, Flubb pushed through behind them. As she passed Sable in the portal, she waved a camp-sized frying pan at her threateningly. “Nice stunt, Sable-rah. I do believe I’ll be joining them to keep an eye on you.” She continued muttering to herself as she passed by. “If they burn the charlotte, I’ll kill them.”   She was followed by Gwenefre and James in his tiger form. Neither one of them said a word, but they both gave her a long look. The full complement of Owsla were now on the scene.   Well, not the full complement. She bit her lip as she thought about Commander Stretch, still in recovery. Poor bastard’s been through hell, she thought, and ground her teeth and curled her hands unconsciously into fists as she remembered, once again, the evils of the Company.   You should just go to the observation station, Sable chided herself. All these people, willing to get shot for you. You’re being a bit of an asshole.   She opened her mouth to tell them she had changed her mind, but someone in a yellow safety vest came by at that moment, shouting through a bullhorn. “Get ready! We start in two minutes!”   Filk, too late now. Sable cast a sunny smile at the other dignitaries. “So how do you typically choose who you’ll give your Hong Bao to?” She’d watched some footage of previous years’ parades so she would know what to expect and not make too big of an idiot out of herself and the Protectorate. The politicians always handed red envelopes to people in the crowd.   “I don’t know. It’s my first year, too,” Premier Eby said with a smile.   Sable laughed. “Right, of course it is.”   The Mayor smiled at her. “I intend to pick older people in the community. Or people who look like they’re excited.”   Sable nodded. She would hand them to people who looked like they needed it, then.   A raised flatbed pulled up behind them. This was as close as the Lunar New Year parade got to a “float.” It was all done up in Lapin colours, that unique reddish pink, white, and some black trim. The Lapin banner was fluttering above a podium, about a third of the way down.   AttorraRu was at the head of the flatbed in full dragon-bunny form. The gems embedded in her purple scales gleamed, and Sable was sure she’d done something to highlight the red ones. Her ears and nose twitched. “Sable-rah!” she called, waving cheerfully. “Are you going to join us on the Lapin float?”   Again, Sable couldn’t help but laugh. Of course Ru would have set something up for this. She should have known. And damned if that Scottish dragon-bunny hadn’t recruited a highlander infantry unit to march behind them. Sable approved. She loved bagpipes too. Maybe they called to the Scottish in her own genes.   “I’d rather walk, if that’s okay,” Sable called back. “Makes it easier to hand out the red envelopes.”   Ru nodded and held up a red envelope of her own. “I’m handing out some of my coins!”   Oh dear. Sable put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. That would create some chaos. If Ru was sharing some of her hoard… there were some ancient coins in there. Fortunes might change forever today.   Did Ru know that? She wasn’t sure. When you were a several centuries-old dragon, and most of the people you knew were literomancers, what would you actually know about modern economic systems?   I don’t understand modern economic systems, Sable admitted to herself.   “Do you mind if I walk beside you, Sable-rah?” Flubb asked her.   Sable looked over at Flubb, and suddenly realized she was wearing an especially well-made set of smoke-grey rabbit ears over her cat ears. They had been fitted so perfectly that they twitched when Flubb’s own ears did. “Of course not,” she said to Flubb immediately. “You’re my friend. I’d enjoy your company.”   It continued to surprise her how Tome Knights never seemed to realize their own significance. Well, maybe not all of them. Ru obviously didn’t have that problem. But she supposed that Flubb had a right to feel a little off-base, after the complete disapperance of her House.   “Good,” said Flubb, “because I’m going to make you eat!” The frying pan was now pinned on to her belt with a carabiner, but her hand flexed in its direction.   “Fair enough,” Sable agreed.   “And you as well,” she added, glaring at Tempest and shaking a finger.   Tempest looked elsewhere, pretending they hadn’t heard in the noise of the crowd. Sable snorted.   “All right, wait for my signal to start,” said the man in the safety vest. “Are you all lined up?”   It was like a time lapse of a black hole sucking in planets, watching the Owsla take up a diamond of protection around them, the Headhunters take up a V in the front, and the Dragoons and the Highlanders surging around and behind. The driver of the flatbed fired up the engine again. Sable realized with a grin that the man — or, should she say, the wereleopard — behind the wheel was Cheetya, Ru’s husband. She waved and he waved back.   “Let’s go!” said the parade director.   A unit of Vancouver police on police bikes briefly fired up their sirens as a signal to clear the street, and they rolled forward. The Headhunters began to dance as they stepped up behind, but in such a way that Sable could see that someone’s eyes were scanning the crowd at all angles the whole time.   The rattling Highlander snares started up. The pipers began to inflate their pipes, and a low drone rumbled to life. It seemed incongruent with the energetic dance the Yakan dance troupe was doing, but somehow they made it work.   Here we go, Sable thought. Let’s hope no one tries to kill me today.   She stepped forward with the rest of the dignitaries as the full swell of the Highlander march began. Behind them, a moment later, the float lurched into motion.     The lead vehicle of the parade started popping off firecrackers behind it as it passed through the gate. Behind them, people in touques and safety vests followed with fire extinguishers, just in case.   Sable cracked open the sports bottle and pulled an amethyst out of her pocket. She focused on it for a moment to activate its innate powers of poison-cleansing — just in case — and it flashed with twinkling, gold magic. She dropped it into the bottle and replaced the cap, before swallowing a few good pulls. Then she handed the bottle over to Tempest.   Tempest looked at her blankly for a moment. “Oh, right. This is the one without the dye?”   Sable nodded.   Tempest tipped it back and drank, then returned it. Sable popped the lid closed with an encouraging smile. No, nobody was going to collapse from magic drain today.   “Good job, Sable-rah.” Flubb was beaming. “Don’t worry, I brought plenty more!” She pulled at the strap of a backpack she had slung across her shoulder.   Oh, goody. Sable had drunk so much of the shit that the old adage “it only tastes good when you actually need it” no longer held true. It was just medicine now, an evil necessity. This was the white stuff, and it was supposed to be cherry, but it tasted to her like sugar, salt, and cough syrup. White cough syrup flavour. Truth in advertising. She snickered.   They marched through the Millennium Gate. Sable looked up under the terra-cotta-tiled, angled roofs, and took a moment to appreciate the alternating green and red slats under the awnings, the three red and black mazelike patterns in the panels of the frame, and the surrounding borders in their plethora of geometric rainbow colours with their bright Buddhist panels between cement pillars. They walked through the tallest gate, the one in the center. Passing beneath it felt like passing into a different world, like a portal. New year, new beginning? Sable’s heart lifted with much-needed hope. It is the Year of the Rabbit, after all.   Why on earth this thought would cross her mind after the disaster of The Third Word War, she couldn’t imagine. By all external measures, they were definitely on a downswing. Last year at this time, their economy had been booming and they’d held the Iron Tome. But they’d been ganked in the war, there was no pretending otherwise. Gala's theft of the Tome had nearly cost them everything.   Enough with the gloomy thoughts. All five of her undead children had been resurrected. Their alliance with Meles and Ailurus was stronger than any alliance they’d ever held. Penwall was under construction, Ailurus was getting firmly established in the chunk of land she’d originally ceded to the Missing House, and all the preparations she’d spent so much time and money on prior to the war had proven worthy. The Protectorate was recovering.   Maybe I just feel hopeful because for the first time ever, my family is united.   Tears of relief came to Sable’s eyes at the thought. She blinked them away.   “You okay?” Tempest asked quietly. Glancing over at them, Sable noticed one of the two guardian lion statues that framed the Millennium Gate out of the corner of her eye, just over Tempest’s shoulder. Inexplicably, she was reminded of James.   Sable nodded. “Hard to explain, but yeah, I’m good.”   Speaking of James, he was padding along in front of them, still in tiger form. Sable smiled. The Captain of the Owsla only took his tiger form when he wanted to sleep, to run places in a hurry, or to make an… impression. How she’d ended up with so many big cats in a House of rabbits, she still had no clue, but she was grateful. James was a gift from El-Ahrairah.   She gave the base of his tail an affectionate scritch. “Sorry to take you from your breakfast,” she said. His tail twitched.   Unlike in other parades, the crowd was not roped off. She recalled from her childhood experience that people just moved in and out in front of the parade. It wasn’t the farthest distance for a parade to travel in Vancouver, but it was one of the longest for this reason. About two hours, she was given to understand from her research.   They were giving the dignitaries a wide berth, though. The giant tiger and all the armed soldiers were probably an excellent deterrent. Sable sighed. She was not the sort of monarch who wanted to wave from balconies. She was the Chief Rabbit. She’d always promised herself that if she were ever the one in charge, she wouldn’t be unapproachable.   The assassination attempts had made a liar out of her. She hated it.   “It’s the Queen!” she heard somebody cry, and she did her best to compensate by trying to meet their eyes and waving enthusiastically. Her attempt to make a connection was thwarted by a camera flash going off right in her eyes. She tried to blink the spots away.   The Mayor went over to where the shout had come from and handed out some red envelopes, shaking hands while he did so. The Premier took the other side. Sable glanced around at her escort and wondered if she’d be allowed to get close enough to the crowd to hand hers out at all. She pulled one out of her fanny pack and turned it around in her fingers.   Her attention was diverted by lion dancers moving along the street behind them. She grinned. Here was one of the things she’d come specifically to see!   She suddenly remembered a lion dancer at the last parade she’d seen, when she was a small child. The puppeteer manipulating that giant head had come right up to her, winked, and then cocked the head from side to side, those big lion eyes peering at her one at a time as it did so.   She had been a bit frightened of these strange creatures, but when the lion had done that, she’d realized it was a big muppet, and she’d laughed. The dancer had even let her reach out and touch the fluff on its face before whirling away to carry on down the street.   These lion dancers were putting on a big stomping show for a bunch of mostly-Asian schoolchildren. The dancer in behind was waving the cape that formed the lion’s body. They giggled and cheered. Sable felt the grin on her face stretch to the point that it was beginning to hurt.   After a minute or so of this, they continued past, and the head dancer lifted up that giant, shiny gold lion head two or three times, reaching towards a cabbage dangling from a Chinese street sign. The crowd raised its voice like a single creature crying, “Ooooohhhhh!” and “Aaaahhhhhh!” with each ascent.   On the third rise, the lion’s mouth opened and closed up around the cabbage, just like Cookie Monster eating a giant cookie. It pulled the cabbage down from the sign, and they continued on their way.   “What’s with the cabbage?” Tempest asked. “Or… do you know?”   Sable turned to her sibling with a smile. “In this case, I actually do know. At least, sort of. It goes back to the days of the tongs. Tongs weren’t really criminal gangs, by the way, or at least, most of them weren’t. Many still exist, actually. They call them 'benevolent societies' now. They’re fraternal orders, like the Elks and the Eagles. And they looked after their members because most of them weren’t allowed to bring their families over, which was essential for social support in China. In fact, Canada’s immigration policy at the time only let Chinese men come over — so they could work on the railroad, you see.” Her mouth twisted in response to this old racist bullshit as she explained it.   “Anyway, I saw a tong boarding house when I was in Barkerville. It was a Canadian National Historic site. They had this enormous wok in the communal kitchen on the lower floor… never mind, I guess that’s a tangent. But anyway, the cabbages used to contain money for the tongs, because different tongs would sponsor different lion dancer troupes. And that was how they got paid. Sometimes it was protection money, yes, but mostly, it was just to make sure the money went to the community, where it was supposed to, instead of being bled off by greedy white power structures. Nowadays, most of these lion puppets are operated by kung fu schools and the like, and the cabbages still contain donations.”   “Huh,” Tempest said thoughtfully. “Wow, that’s neat! Really interesting, actually.”   “I should take you up to Barkerville sometime. It was great inspiration for the Wyrd West books. We could explore together and then maybe sit down and write.” She thought of the tiny Chinatown section of Barkerville then; the beautifully preserved gold rush era buildings, and how it, too, was separated from the white half of the town by a similar, if much less elaborate, gate.   “Sounds like fun,” Tempest agreed.   “It’s the Bunny Queen!” cried one of the schoolchildren, pointing at her. Her classmates started bouncing up and down excitedly. Oh, they can’t be any older than eight, and they’re probably even younger than that, she realized, and she was grinning again. She waved at them, and this time, no sudden flash prevented her from seeing them wave back.   Now’s my chance. She headed towards them with a red envelope in hand. The Owsla took a second to realize what she was doing and they followed her, but that gave her a moment to pass the envelope into the hands of the child who’d pointed her out.   She reached into the fanny pack and pulled out a few more to hand out randomly. Most of them ended up in the hands of smiling parents. They bowed, many of them responding in Chinese that Sable didn’t understand. She smiled back.   “Can I touch your ears?” a little boy asked quietly.   Sable looked down. He was an adorable child of maybe six or seven, and he had the biggest black eyes, wide with wonder.   Kitoypoy stretched an arm out in their direction to put some distance between them, ever the diligent bodyguard.   “Kim, that’s rude,” the teacher admonished him. “This is the Queen. You can’t just touch her ears.”   “Mommy says it’s good luck,” he insisted.   Sable grinned. “These are just costume ears,” she explained. “Did you mean these, or the real ones?”   “The real ones,” he said immediately.   “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” the teacher said hastily. “He’s just very curious, he means no—”   “Sure,” said Sable. “One moment.” She took off the cheap costume shop rabbit ears that had somehow, through some weird twist of fate, become part of her official regalia.   “Oh, bless you,” Flubb said, beaming. “I can take those for you if you like, Sable-rah.”   “Thanks, Flubb.” Sable handed her the ears, with their checkered pink interiors and fake fur and plastic headband. Flubb took them with all the solemnity of receiving the Crown Jewels.   Well, in a way, I suppose that’s exactly what they are, now.   Kitoypoy’s mouth moved, but no sound came out, and he stood at parade rest, somewhat at a loss.   I haven’t done this since I was a teenager, Sable realized. Hoping she still remembered how, she focused inward for a moment and shifted only her ears.   There was a tickling sensation that migrated from the sides of her head to the top of it. She almost giggled as her hair rearranged itself to make way for the long lagomorph ears that budded from either side of the place where she parted her long, brown hair.   For a fraction of a second, she was completely deaf. Then the timbre and volume of the sound around her changed. The ambience of the crowd sounded like it was coming from a lower point than before, but of course, that was just because her ears were now higher up. Everything also got a lot louder.   “Oooooh,” the children breathed.   Sable smiled. Yes, I really am a wererabbit. Yes, it’s true. She felt one of her foot-long hare’s ears twitch automatically towards a loud drummer further ahead in the parade, while the other tried to listen to the nearby crowd and the bagpipes. Her hair was probably all over the place by now. She combed her fingers through it around the crown of her head to smooth it out.   “That’s soooo cool,” a girl in Kim’s class opined.   Sable bent down and let her ears flop down over the sides of her head. The fur on the ear tips brushed the epaulets of her Lapin pink trenchcoat. “That ought to put those in reach,” she said.   Kim reached out and stroked the length of her ear, from almost the base to the ear-tip. “They’re soft,” he breathed.   “Bunny fur is pretty soft,” Sable agreed.   The kids needed no more encouragement. Soon, every single one of them had to pet her ears. She tried to keep them still, and she tried not to giggle, but those little hands were very tickly! A few times, she just couldn’t help it, and the children laughed.   Sable closed her eyes. Her ears were so rarely touched. She didn’t even have any memories of her mother licking her ears, as many wererabbits did, because her parents had not been wererabbits.   Oh, how frightened she’d been with her first shapeshift! She’d been— what? Ten, eleven, maybe? Dabbling with one of the literomancy books her grandmother had left her, which she had been expressly forbidden to do at that age, and then all of a sudden — poof! She was a little black jackrabbit, and she had no idea how to shift back!   She’d hidden under her bed, deep in the darkest shadow, knowing she could never let her parents know, and it was most of the day gone before she’d calmed down enough to make the shift back. She’d whacked her head pretty good on her white oak bed frame, too, when the change had finally come, and it was loud enough that her mother came in to see what had happened.   Why, she’d been fully an adult the first time those ears were ever touched, hadn’t she? Erin had been the first one to stroke them. They were in that basement suite up by the Safeway, after they’d moved out of the condo to get away from the pettiness of her ex, and she’d wanted a nap after work, but she wanted to hear when Erin came home from training.   But either she’d been more tired than she’d thought, or she’d felt truly safe for the first time she could remember — maybe both — and she hadn’t heard him come in. She woke with hands gently running over those long, sensitive ears, drawing them back behind her head.   Some instinct in her responded to it in her half-awake state, the ultimate ASMR experience, and shivers of delight ran through her whole body — all six pounds of it — from the tips of those almost ridiculously-long, now snow-white hare’s ears, to the tip of her cottontail.   Then she’d thought, Wait, who’s touching my ears? And before she knew it, she was under their thrift-store-special couch with its hideous orange flowered upholstery, shivering in a different way.   But it wasn’t as though she didn’t know Erin was a Meles, and Erin knew she was a Lapin, and they both knew what that meant. He’d coaxed her out from under the couch, and from then on, whenever he came home from training or from a posting, he would spend several minutes, maybe even a few hours, holding her in his lap and stroking the length of her ears.   Mostly, she would sleep.   The only other time anyone had ever touched her ears had been when her babies were still small enough to nurse. Sometimes they would lick them, almost by accident, as they made their earliest attempts at social grooming.   Oh yes, and Tempest had licked them once, when she’d first been introduced to the Beach Reality.   This was… new.   “We have to continue on, ma’am,” said the Premier to her discretely, hovering just above her head. He either sensed, or had discerned, that she didn’t need it to be terribly loud, either. “The parade is moving on without us.” He spoke louder then, this time to the children. “Who wants a piece of candy? Just one now.”   This distracted the kids enough that she was able to extricate herself, reluctantly, she had to admit. She waved again and started to move on.   “Thank you, Your Royal Majesty!” chorused the children in a singsong voice, obviously coached by the teacher. Her grin was hurting her face again.   Tempest was grinning at her. “That looks like it was fun.”   “It really was,” Sable sighed. “You should have let them pet your ears, too.”   “Nah.” Tempest’s grin disappeared, and they closed up like a fan. “My ears are covered in scars. Nobody wants to feel that.”   Sable’s heart twinged in sympathy for her sibling. “You might be surprised,” she said in a gentle voice. “Kids sometimes react strangely to Erin’s arm and leg at first, but they think both are pretty cool if they get a chance to check them out. If you let them investigate, it normalizes it for them. And then maybe someone else with scars doesn’t get an odd reaction later.”   Tempest chewed on that. “You might be right, sis,” they said at last. “But what do I tell them if they ask what happened?”   “The truth,” Sable shrugged. “Tell them you were in a horrible accident when you were a teenager.” She put a hand on her sibling’s strong arm and gave it an encouraging squeeze.   Okay, it was a bit more complicated than that, and Sable knew it. But that was good enough for a seven- or eight-year-old. I asked the Void to destroy me because I felt I’d gotten the only person who’d ever shown me kindness killed was something that could wait until they were much older.   If they ever chose to share that information with the public.   Sable had been chewing on that, too. The International Criminal Court was firm about protecting the identities of victims — victims, how she hated that word, they were survivors — but that was mostly to prevent people from being harmed by those who had power over them.   Their family’s position was somewhat different. Perhaps they should be using their position and their privilege to advocate for other survivors of torture and genocide elsewhere in the world. Perhaps they had a duty.   On the other hand, so little of their lives was private, now. Surely they had a right to privacy in their pain?   Again with the gloomy thoughts, Sable. This is not the time. You made a bunch of children really happy just now. Velma says you need to let yourself enjoy happy moments, and you need to work on being in the present. Take what you can get.   “There were stars in them!” Kim’s voice rang out indignantly as they carried on. “I saw them!”   Sable chuckled.     Flubb handed Sable back the costume ears.   “Oh, did you want to hang on to those for a while?” Sable cast her a warm smile. “I think I might keep the real ears going for a time. Someone else might want some good luck.”   Flubb chuckled now too. “No problem, ma’am.” The royal “ma’am” sounded awkward on her lips; they’d moved well beyond that in the privacy of the Warren, but here they had an audience. “I’ll just put them in my backpack then, shall I?”   “They’re pretty durable. Just don’t overwash them.” Sable laughed.   Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She unlocked it and searched for the source. Ah, it was a text message from Senna:   <Just saw you on the news. I’m in town. Want to meet up after the parade?>   Sable was smiling again. Senna, another gift from El-Ahrairah, at least, for her. She was so proud of her newly-found daughters! It hurt to think about the upbringing she and Myko must have had, as Company experiments... not unlike Tempest, but at least they’d had each other.   She was so glad they had all found each other now, though. It had broken her heart to hear of the devil’s bargain Senna had made in the last war... and it had filled her so full of pride she could hardly speak the words when she’d handed Senna the Lapin Star of Valour for that same bargain.   “Senna’s here somewhere,” she told Tempest with a grin.   “Oh, cool. Where is she?”   “Good question.” This crowd was definitely not for Senna. Too noisy, too people-y. To handle it for more than a few minutes, she’d have to have her noise-cancelling headphones. A lot of not-fun.   <Of course!> Sable texted back. <Where are you? Or where do you want to meet?>   She could almost hear the shrug in Senna’s response: <I don’t know the area. Why don’t you pick a place?>   Sable didn’t really know the area that well either, but she’d at least heard of places to go. <Why don’t we explore the vendors at the park and take in the performances there for a bit? And then after, we can go to the Yat Sen Gardens. World famous! Really peaceful, I hear.>   They were on her “Protectorate bucket list,” actually. Sable was making it a goal to visit major tourist attractions and cultural centres in the Protectorate so that she could speak about them intelligently to “foreign dignitaries” like the other House Leaders. Besides, she liked learning about cultures she didn't come from, and this just struck her as something a Queen ought to do.   <Okies,> Senna replied.   Sable sent a happy face back and pocketed her phone. “We’re gonna meet for the performances after,” she told Tempest. “I don’t know where she is right now. Doing her own thing, I guess.”   “She’s probably afraid you’ll draft her into the parade,” Flubb said with a teasing smile.   “I would never do that to Senna,” Sable said, a bit defensively. “She’d hate it.”   But she did it to Jean, didn’t she? Well, that was different. What House Ailurus expected of their Heir was their own concern. Jean was the Lapin Crown Prince. Being seen was, sadly, part of the job description.   Once again, she wondered if making Jean the Heir to the House was fair to him. He was doing the job, but so much of it took so many spoons for him. He was assumed to be her Heir as her eldest (living, she thought in a dark corner of her brain before squashing it) child, but he didn’t have to be. House tradition was pretty adaptable about that.   She supposed it had to be.   Enough! Sable told herself firmly. You are here to have FUN.   Her ears twitched backwards when she heard some impressive drumming starting up. The Highlanders were taking a bit of a break, doing that low-key drumming thing they did between songs, probably because she’d held them all up with the schoolkids. And why shouldn’t I? she told the voice of her mother in her brain that was complaining about how she always had to be the centre of attention and didn’t pay attention to the needs of other people. I’m the Queen, dammit! It's my job.   This was different. It sounded distinctly Asian. Was there a dragon dance going on?   “I want to see what that is,” Sable told her companions. “Who wants to join me on the Lapin float?”   “Is that an open invitation, ma’am?” the Premier asked her with a smile.   “Why not?” Sable cast him her trademark wry smirk, the one that made the Owsla worry. If the Premier could get up on the raised flatbed, with his somewhat soft, lawyerly physique, and his business suit and patent leather shoes, he deserved to ride alongside. And if he can handle our weirdness. “Want to take a walk in our world, Premier Eby? I have to warn you, you might as well be taking a tour of Diagon Alley.”   He smiled back. “Bring it on,” he said.   “Actually, I can’t wait to meet more of the Tome Knights we’ve all heard so much about,” Mayor Sim put in, smoothly joining the party. “That’s Dame AttorraRu there, right? It’s gotta be.”   “Yes, that’s Ru.” Sable said. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced you around yet, have I? This is Dame Flubb, on my left is Dame Gwenefre, and the tiger, as you might have guessed, is Captain Woodwright.”   James transformed into his human form; not in Lapin uniform, as he typically wore during public appearances, but rather, a Lapin pink “jumper” as her former UK subjects insisted on calling it, and wool dress slacks. She really had interrupted his breakfast, hadn’t she? “How d’you do?” he said, extending his hand.   The Mayor covered his flinch well. It was only a momentary startle reaction, more of a twitch, really. Sable was impressed. He clasped her Owsla Captain’s hand. “How do you do, sir?”   “Good to see you again, Captain,” said the Premier, also shaking hands. “I’m sorry, I suppose I should have said hello when you were in tiger form. I was pretty sure it was you. It just feels… awkward… speaking to… a tiger, I guess.”   “It takes some getting used to, I think,” Flubb put in. “How d’you do, Premier, Mr. Sim?” They shook her furry, cat-clawed and gloved hand with a minimum of double takes. The Premier didn’t even bat an eye. Sable was doubly impressed. How often did one meet an anthropomorphic calico cat with dwarven beard braids in a pretty skirt and blouse — and with bunny ears on her head, no less?   About as often as people meet a half-dragon, half-bunny with gems for scales, I suppose. My life continues to be extremely weird. “Ru, would you help us up?”   “Of course, Sable-rah,” said AttorraRu cheerfully. “Here, give us a hand, there, Premier.”   The Premier extended his hand to Ru, and she hauled him up by one arm. This surprised even him, and his patent leather shoes scrabbled against the sides of the float as he was lifted.   “Right, you’re a dragon, I should have expected that,” he said, a little breathlessly. “Good to meet you, Dame AttorraRu.” He shook her clawed and scaled hand.   Ru laughed. “It’s good to meet you too, sir. Mr. Mayor, care for a lift?”   “I’d be honoured.” Ru hauled him up the same way, which he handled with considerably more dignity.   “Well, let’s get on with it, then, Auntie,” Flubb said with a wry grin at AttorraRu, and then she was up on the float as well.   Sable grinned at Tempest mischievously. “Race you?”   “Race?” Tempest echoed, mystified; and then they understood. “Oh!” They returned the grin. “Filk, yes.”   “Three, two, one…” The two siblings changed into their hare forms — one a glowing star-bunny, the other orange, with flames on the tips of its ears — and they scampered towards the float and leaped before Flubb could cry out in alarm.   Sable made a hop, skip and a jump onto the platform, and the crowd cheered… but it quickly turned into a cry of dismay as Tempest got their feet too far in front of them, missed their cue for the leap, and ended up splatting directly into the side of the float before bouncing off. When they hit the ground, they let off a small flare of flames in alarm.   “Oh no!” cried Flubb, reaching down and almost toppling off the end of the float herself.   Sable scurried over to the edge of the float and looked down. “Tempest! Are you okay?”   “Oh no, you don’t,” said Flubb, seizing Sable firmly by the scruff. “You’re not going anywhere, ma’am. I think that’s quite enough adventure for one day.”   Tempest shook themself off, extinguishing their gust of flame almost as soon as they’d ignited it. “I’m fine,” they said crossly. “Nothing hurt but my pride.”   Sable twitched her ear in Flubb’s direction. “Flubb, please put me down. This is very undignified.”   “Dignity?” she snorted. “You have employed me to see to your well-being, Your Majesty, and I am not going to have you getting your fool self killed on my watch!”   “You feel our pain,” James said ruefully.   “Want a hand?” Kit asked Tempest, leaning down.   “That’s probably a good idea. Clearly I need more jumping drills.” They rubbed their nose and ears impatiently. “Who’d have thunk I’d ever say I needed more drills, hey Kit?”   Kitoypoy picked them up and lifted them onto the float. He and Gwen continued to walk beside.   “Can you please at least let go of my scruff?” Sable pleaded. “You’re actually not supposed to pick rabbits up by the scruff. We’re not designed for it like cats are. It kinda hurts.”   “Oh dear, I’m sorry!” She cradled Sable in her arms, but it was a firm grip, and clearly, she had no intentions of letting go.   The crowd was laughing and applauding now, so Sable supposed it wasn’t a complete loss. Anything that mitigates fear of us, she thought. I suppose it doesn’t hurt us to look goofy every once in a while. Besides, that was fun — as long as Tempest is okay. She extended her body as far down as it would go and sniffed in Tempest’s direction.   They didn’t look like they were moving with any difficulty as they hopped away from anything flammable and began to wash their face with their paws, little sparks flowing over their body in place of a normal hare’s saliva. No worse for wear, then. All good. She’d check them over for bruises later.   In all the chaos, the drums she’d been curious about had stopped. She would have to wait for them to start up again before she figured out what they were about.     Sable's eyes were drawn by their sister Rowean wandering over. She was suppressing a smirk, no doubt at Sable’s predicament. She was wearing a spectacular green velvet dress and cape, with a nod to Lapin colours in the silk pink cape lining. The gems on the dress pectoral might have been water-clear Gaia stone or actual emeralds; she wasn’t sure. “You made it, da woman,” Rowean said with a smile.   “You drew parade detail today? And that dress is amazing, by the way.”   “Ru recruited me this morning because you slept in. I don’t mind, though. This is fun.” Sable was not surprised that Rowean was enjoying herself. She’d always had an appreciation of Asian cultures.   “Your Royal Highness,” Premier Eby and the Mayor greeted her respectfully. “I hope it’s not too forward of me to say,” Mayor Sim added, “but I can’t help but agree with Her Royal Majesty. That dress is spectacular.”   “Thank you, Your Honour,” said Rowean, smiling coquettishly at him. Sable was glad her sigh of consternated amusement was almost inaudible in her hare form. If Rowean could stop flirting with everything under the sun, that would probably reflect better on House Lapin and the Monarchy. But then, she wouldn’t be her.   “Well, Dame Flubb, if you’re going to insist on carrying me, you could do me the kindness of giving me a look around.”   “Of course, Sable-rah.” Flubb turned to face the back of the float. She saw the Mayor grinning and the Premier doing his best to hide a smile. She decided to ignore them.   Looking around, Sable could appreciate the old fashioned construction that remained here and there throughout Chinatown. Many of the buildings were still of rusty brick, and there were still several vintage neon signs, of the kind that Vancouver used to be known for. It was full of colour and life. These were standing right next to sleek, modern shops in the style that Vancouver was currently known for. Chinese restaurants and knickknack shops that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the 70s stood next to modern art galleries, insurance firms, and haute couture.   Sable scanned along the parade and saw wushu performers moving along and doing a routine. She would have called it a kata, but that was a Japanese word. She wasn’t sure what they called it in either major Chinese dialect. Wushu was a beautiful art, but it was far too aerobic for her asthma to take. She always thought elven swordwork would look a lot like that.   They were followed by a women’s dance troupe in beautiful green satin costumes, covered with aprons that had peacock feather patterns on them. They were making sweeping gestures with giant green, gold, and pink feathered fans.   Behind them, there was a Chinese opera troupe, also on a raised flatbed. In the lull between the Highlanders and their piping, she could hear snippets of the performance coming through some enormous speakers that were built into the set. The actor who seemed to be the lead was doing something almost mudra-like with his hands. She was fascinated by their brightly coloured costumes and painted smiles, and the athletic dancers, but she had no cultural context whatsoever, and therefore had not the slightest idea what was going on. It was still beautiful to watch, though.   “Is that an erhu?” she said wistfully as both ears turned their satellite reception towards the sound of a stringed instrument. She loved its simultaneous richness and purity, and how it could switch from tension hovering on a razor’s edge, to ring out with the purity and sweetness of a silver bell. To call it a “Chinese cello” was demeaning. It was a completely different instrument and it was exquisite.   “You’re familiar, ma’am?” Mayor Sim asked.   “I can’t really say that, no,” Sable admitted. “I love classical Chinese music but I know nothing at all about it. I just knew I had to find out what that instrument was called when I heard it, so I did some research.”   “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” The Mayor cast her a smile, which Sable would have returned if she’d been in human form. But that always looked really awkward on a hare. It was all teeth.   Mostly, however, the parade really was a community event. Broken up by more dance troupes, military units, fire and police departments, and a bunch of Sikh men on motorcycles whose group name Sable could not read from this distance, the parade was mostly local groups, martial arts schools, and benevolent societies, all waving brightly-coloured flags with Chinese characters; mostly red and gold, but also blue, pink, orange and green.   Flubb turned around so she could see ahead of them. The streets were packed from one end to the other with people milling about in droves, and the sidewalks were lined with community organizers, vendors, and local shops, out to get attention. A phone accessories booth displaying cute chibi rabbit products stood next to a bright red banner from a local kung fu club, which was right next to a vendor selling giant smiling rabbit helium balloons.   “Hey, Sable,” Tempest said with amusement in their voice, “look who’s got a booth set up down the street.”   “Who?” Sable squinted into the brightness of the clearing overcast sky. It took her a few moments, but then she saw it; there was a big sign for the Center for Filking Control up ahead.   “No!” She laughed out loud. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”   “Probably,” admitted Tempest with a snicker.   “Flubb, please put me down now. I have to change into my human form.”   “Not on your life, Your Majesty!” she said sternly. “Not until you tell me what you’re going to do.”   “I promise I’m not leaving the float,” Sable said primly. “And I have no intention of further athletic feats.”   “That doesn’t answer—” Flubb began; but then she noticed that Tempest had shifted back to their human form and made their way over to the podium. And its microphone.   The light of realization dawned in Flubb’s eyes. “Oooooohhhhh,” she said. “I see. Well, I suppose I can make some allowances for a noble cause.” She placed Sable down gently on her paws. “Go on, then.”   Tempest was tapping the mic when Sable reached their side. She left her ears shapeshifted, rather than making Flubb search out the costume ears again. She could hear the erhu more clearly this way, besides the point.   Not that she would hear it at all in a few minutes.   “It’s not a vocal mic, but it’ll do.”   Sable nodded. “Improv, right? It’s what we do best.”   “What are they doing?” Sable’s sensitive ears picked up the Mayor asking the Premier under his breath.   Ru smiled and knocked on the roof of the truck. “Cheetya! Lapin playlist, no vocals!”   He waved back and yelled out, “Aye, gi’ me my cue!”   “Wayward Bun?” Tempest said.   “Absolutely,” Sable agreed. “Ready?” They leaned into the mic and Sable counted backwards with her fingers; three, two, one.   Their harmonized voices rang through the speakers:   “Carry on, my wayward buuuuun!
“There’ll be words when you are dooooone!
“Lay your weary paws to reeeeest,
“Don’t you write no more…”   “Are they always like this?” the Mayor asked the Premier underneath the sound of the rocking guitars.   The Premier shrugged. “Well, Her Royal Majesty did start singing in the bathroom at the last function we were at. It carried into the meeting room through the vents…”   That explained a lot. Sable burst out laughing.   Gwen hopped up on the flatbed and they made room so she could join in. She was so tall in her currently red-and-pink dyed half-bunny form, she almost bent double to reach the mic. They had finished “Carry On, Wayward Bun,” and were well into “Some Bunny to Love” when they finally passed close enough to the CFC booth that Sable could hear Dr. Mamby-Pamby screaming.   That stopped when Kitoypoy came over and had a quiet word with him.   Oof. “Last one,” said Sable to Tempest quietly, pointing out the scene.   Tempest raised their hand to their mouth. “Yeah,” they murmured off-mic.   Sable opened her mouth to ad-lib something, but with perfect timing — maybe intentionally — the Highlanders started up again immediately after. Sable knew better than to take the cheers seriously. They’re fascinated that the Queen is acting like a regular person. It ain’t your musicianship. She was just a filker, after all. But she grinned and waved anyway.   “I didn’t intend to cause the doc trouble with Kit,” Sable said to Tempest in a low voice.   “Yeaaahhh,” Tempest agreed.   “Isn’t he the one that called you both a ‘public menace,’ House Leader?” James asked.   “Now that you mention it,” Sable said, finding anything to look at besides their faces.   “Isn’t that… sedition?” Premier Eby asked, his face a mask of confusion.   Sable shifted her feet. “Well, you see…”   “He might be right?” Rowean supplied helpfully. Sable cast her a warning look.   “Hey, King Bob says filking is an ancient magic that accesses some of the Tome’s power, not a plague at all,” Tempest piped up defensively. “Dr. Mamby-Pamby can…”   Sable cleared her throat pointedly.   “Yeah, yeah, okay,” Tempest grumbled.   “The doctor is doing what he feels is necessary,” Sable said generously. “Just because I don’t agree with him doesn’t mean his work isn’t important. He’s not wrong in that filking appears to be highly contagious. And the earworms can be…”   The drumming and cymbals started up again. Sable looked to the back of the flatbed. “Ah, there we go.”   Behind them, about a quarter of the parade along, a gold and red dragon was dancing. Sable couldn’t see which community group was doing it, but the beauty of its shimmering cloth scales drew the eye.   One of the dancers twirled a shifting red and gold ball on a stick in front of the dragon’s head. “What’s the ball about?” Tempest asked. “Well,” they amended, “aside from that it’s clearly leading the team. They can’t see too well in that getup, can they?”   “I researched it, because I didn’t know either,” Sable admitted. “It represents the Pearl of Wisdom, which the dragon always seeks.”.   The dragon’s head followed the pearl, first back and forth, and then up and around; and for every move the head made, the loops in the body, formed by puppeteers in dragon-scale trousers, holding long poles, followed. The dragon swirled around in a tight coil, then in a circle, then in and out of a spiral. It moved like something sinewy and serpentine. It was a spectacular effect. Sable’s smile widened again. She applauded.   Ru hopped down off the flatbed and handed them a red envelope. “Happy New Year!” she said cheerfully.   One of the dancers who was taking a rest from being part of the dragon — you could tell by their shiny silken-scaled trousers — took the envelope and nearly dropped it. An excited conversation ensued as they poured the gleaming golden coins into their hands. Sable was not at all surprised when they let her join in at the rear of the dragon dance, even when it made the dragon lope along like it had a broken hip.   Laughing, Sable jumped back off the flatbed while Flubb was distracted and started handing out more red envelopes of her own. “Happy New Year!” she said to one and all, having already forgotten the carefully-practiced Mandarin and not wanting to offend anyone by using the old-fashioned Cantonese, since she knew it was out of vogue. Tempest, Sable was glad to see, reached right into the fanny pack without asking permission and started doing the same. That made Sable beam a radiant smile. They’re getting more comfortable, she realized. They’re starting to trust me.   James was right behind her, and Sable wondered if that really was a good omen. They were just coming out of the Year of the Tiger, after all.   Yeah, it was a Tiger of a year, all right.   And that’s enough of that. This is FUN. Stop being a killjoy. It’s the Year of the Rabbit now, dammit. Just look at Tempest’s smile! When was the last time you saw that? If ever?     Sable could see the park ahead now. The parade was starting to wind to its close. She smelled something delicious. There was meat and spice and anise. “I smell lunch,” she said to Tempest. “Should we grab something for Senna too? She probably can’t have the satay beef because there might be ginger in it, but she can probably have the pho.”   “I’ll ask,” said Tempest, “but you know you’re going to have to send one of us for it anyway because nobody’s letting you get in line.” They got out their phone and started texting.   Too true. It was probably inappropriate for the Queen, anyway. Who was going to make her wait? “Kit, can you please find me the source of that delicious beef smell and get me some?”   “I’ll go with him,” Flubb said, jumping down before Kitoypoy could say a word. “He probably won’t remember all your dietary requirements properly.”   Kitoypoy opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it. “Probably true,” he admitted with a smile.   “Senna says sure she’ll have the pho,” Tempest interrupted. “Myko’s coming too, so should we get something for her?”   “Oh, probably.” Her voice trailed off as she noticed a display at the entrance to the park. “Hey. Wait. Hold on. Kit, James, come with me.”   Sable made a beeline for the park entrance, with James quickly moving out in front of her, and Kitoypoy protectively at her side. Tempest fell in on the other side as well, temporarily diverted from the quest for food. Tempest soon saw what she had seen. “Oh,” they said, a little grim, and Sable wondered if the phantoms of memory were clawing at the back of their mind.   A golden-furred hare was being displayed in a cage. It had a black, spiralling unicorn’s horn. Its ears were flattened and it was cringing from all the attention. Sable’s ears drooped in sympathy.   "Oh, you poor thing," Sable crooned. She figured the creature had to be a leveret, not even a year old. She turned to the smiling proprietors, who were standing under a sign that read, "Pet Horn Bunny Good Luck! $5." "Why do you have an endangered animal in a cage in a public park?" she demanded.   The proprietors said something back to her in a language she didn't understand. It didn't sound like either Chinese dialect to her, though. It might have been Korean. "The bunny," she repeated, pointing to the cage. "You're not allowed to keep it as a pet."   The young woman that was smiling at her just cocked her head in incomprehension. She said something back that might have been a question.   Sable started shaking her head and making an X sign with her arms. "You're not allowed... dammit." She looked helplessly at Kitoypoy. "Kit, I'm sorry, could you please find me a translator? I don't even know where to look."   Kitoypoy nodded. "I'll see what I can do, Sable-rah." He disappeared into the gathering crowd.   Her companion, a man about Sable's own age, looked at Sable for a long moment, and his eyes widened. He tapped the girl on the shoulder and then bowed deeply. She blinked in surprise, and she began bowing too.   They must have recognized that I'm the Queen, she realized. Sable came forward and took the older man's hands. "I'm pleased to meet you," she said with a smile, hoping her tone would convey her meaning, "but you can't keep an al-miraj as a pet. They're endangered." Well, to be fair, they were probably only endangered because they were new to the world again, though they might have existed before literomancy weakened and fell into obscurity. They were no doubt making a comeback, and they were lagomorphs, so it probably wouldn't take long, but until they did...   "Maybe..." Sable held up a finger and pulled out her phone. "Gobble Translate exists for a reason," she muttered under her breath, navigating to the page. There she typed into the English box, <No pets. Endangered species,> so as to not confuse the grammar, and held it up for the man to see.   That seemed to break the language barrier. His face fell and he started talking quickly, a dismayed scowl on his face. "I don't understand," Sable said. The gist of his dialogue was pretty clear — he was objecting — but she could not decipher the specifics of his objections.   After a moment, another idea hit her, and she laid a gentle hand on his arm to stop him. Then she pointed to her phone, and then to his.   Comprehension sparked in his eyes. He took out his phone, navigated to Gobble Translate, and typed in a sentence. He held it up to Sable and she read, <Bunny An’s pet's. We have more.>   "Yes, I understand that," said Sable, "but you're not..." She gave up and typed on her own phone, <Pets are not allowed because they are an endangered species.>   Now the girl started protesting too. "It's the law," Sable said stubbornly. She stole a glance at the al-miraj. It was looking increasingly distressed by the commotion. Its ears were flattened and it was crouched down in the cage. She thought it might be shivering. She wished she could shift to bunny form so she could smell if it was a buck or a doe. There would be different strategies for calming it down, in either case.   "I don't even know how you got the little guy through Customs," she muttered. "Clearly I need to have a word with the Port Authority." She was irritated now. She should not be having this conversation in the first place. Was somebody that unobservant, or was someone taking a bribe? She thought she'd managed to clean out most of the corruption that had worked its way into the system between the collapse of the Canadian and American governments and the establishment of the Protectorate, but she knew there were those she'd missed; especially with her necessarily-lax immigration policies.   Which she was getting heat for in Parliament right now. Maybe they had a point.   Kitoypoy returned with a steel-haired Korean woman in tow. "Sable-rah? This is Kun Bo-Kyung. She'll translate for you."   Sable turned a warm smile on her. "Thank you for your help! I'm trying to explain to these folks that al-miraj are an endangered species and they're not allowed to keep them as pets in the Protectorate. It's against the law. I don't want to arrest them because I'm sure they didn't know—" she wasn't sure, but why create more trouble than she had to? They were already upset, and if the little guys were the girl's pets, she could definitely understand that. No need to add insult to injury. "—but I'm afraid they'll have to surrender them, or return to a country where they're not protected."   The woman nodded along as she was speaking. "Absolutely, Your Majesty, I'll tell them." She spoke to them in Korean. A rapid-fire conversation that Sable couldn't follow ensued.   After a couple of minutes, the woman turned back to Sable. "They have a small group of them who are family pets, and apparently they've been pets for about a year now? They just came to the Lapin Protectorate so An, the young woman, could go to school. She's going for a biology degree at UBC. She's intending to write a paper on them for her graduate study. It would be devastating to them, both personally and for her education, if they had to surrender them."   Sable scraped her thumbnail between her bottom teeth, a leftover habit from chewing her nails as a kid. She could definitely understand the dilemma. She glanced over at the Premier, who'd been standing quietly by this whole time. "Don't we have some kind of special allowance for academic studies?"   He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure, ma'am," he said, "but I can find out. Hold on just a moment." He dialed someone on his phone. "Get me the Minister of Education and the Minister of the Environment, please."   Sable wanted to slap her forehead. She should have thought of that. Well, she could smooth ruffled feathers in the meantime. "Let them know that we might have a special allowance for academic studies," she told the woman who had volunteered, or been voluntold by Kitoypoy, to translate. "We're looking into it now."   The woman smiled with obvious approval, and turned back to the al-miraj's owners to relay the information. An said something to her and bowed, and then turned to Sable and repeated it and the gesture.   "Don't thank me yet," Sable said, but she smiled back. "We're working on it, but we don't know yet what we can do."   The Premier walked off away from the group and the crowd and began talking with the people on the other end. Sable followed him. "Would you mind patching me into the call, or maybe putting it on speaker?"   Premier Eby blinked in surprise. "Oh, uh... of course, Your Majesty! One moment." He held the call and switched over to his secretary, asking him to patch Her Majesty in.   Sable's phone rang. "Hello," she said cheerfully.   "Your Majesty... forgive the intrusion," began the secretary awkwardly, "but I have a request from the Premier..."   "Yes please, go ahead, patch me in."   "Right away, Your Majesty." The secretary awkwardly set up the call.   "Welcome to the call, Your Rabbitness," said one of the Ministers smoothly.   Sable grinned. "Your Rabbitness" was a thing that only literomancers tended to use with ease, but it was a perfectly valid regnal title. "Thank you, Ministers. Yes, so I'm sure Premier Eby hasn't even had a chance to fill you in yet?   "I was just getting started, ma'am."   Sable nodded. "Well, we're at the Lunar New Year celebration in Vancouver and we have a Korean biology student who wants to study the al-miraj she's been keeping as pets back home. Unfortunately, here they're on the endangered list, so it's illegal. I'm hoping we have some kind of special dispensation for students."   "What's an al-miraj?" the other Minister asked.   "They're one of the protected species we fund with the Lagomorph Trust. They're hares with a unicorn horn. Native to the Middle East, so I'm not sure how they got them, but they've got one on display in the park here and they're charging $5 a pat."   "Oh, well, that's definitely not allowed," the first Minister chuffed.   "Yes, and I'm glad of it, because the poor thing looks distressed by all the people and handling. They tend to be pretty reclusive in the wild." Sable knew more about lagomorphs now than just about anybody else she knew. Everything from the more familiar rabbits, hares, and pikas, to the cryptids that had begun reappearing in some numbers; skvaders, wolpertingers, jackalopes or horned hares, as they were known in Europe, and al-miraj. Lovely little beasties.   The first Minister cleared her throat. "We do have special dispensations for universities, but generally not for individuals... we don't have anything in place for keeping endangered species as pets."   The Premier jumped in. "What can we come up with? I think Her Rabbitness—" this flowed off the tongue, now that he had heard it once— "is concerned about separating them because she doesn't think the bunnies would do well in the wild, now. Correct me if I'm wrong, ma'am?"   "You're not wrong," she agreed.   "I... suppose we could allow a special dispensation if you're willing to sign it, Your Majesty," said the second Minister reluctantly. "On a personal level, I wish we knew more about the situation. We don't know anything about the endangered cryptids. We can't make sufficient judgments as to their well-being and safety because we lack the necessary data."   Sable considered that. "Good point. Well, I can offer some personal insights on jackalopes now..." She remembered when she'd adopted Jean, and all the work it had taken to determine his needs, then. She'd had no idea that jackalopes were omnivores. "There may also be something in the Lapin archives. I can look it up. I'd probably better anyway," she added, thinking aloud, "because I'm not willing to put my personal seal on anything unless I'm sure the well-being of the animals is being sufficiently met. Do we have any experts on lagomorphs we can assign to oversee this? I'm sure they'd appreciate the opportunity to have a look at some al-miraj, anyway."   "Hmm..." the second Minister murmured. "There was a study on jackalopes out of Berkeley from just last year. Maybe they could send someone?"   "Great, please look into that. I'm going to get these folks to take their bunny home, then, and get their contact information so we can continue to monitor the situation. Do you have this?" she asked Premier Eby.   "Of course, ma'am," he said.   "All right then, I'll leave you to it. I'm going to give conditional permission for their maintenance of the al-miraj, and depending on the conditions, I'll give permission for the study, too; as long as we have someone who's qualified keeping an eye on things. Maybe we can also recruit a vet who works with bunnies to make regular check-ups and whatnot."   "Good idea, ma'am," agreed the Environment Minister.   "Okay, I'll leave the arrangements in your capable hands, then," she said. "Thank you, all." She hung up on the call and made her way back over to the Korean pair and the translator. They all looked at her expectantly.   "So I'm afraid we're going to get a bunch of red tape involved," she explained. "I'm going to grant a personal, conditional dispensation to keep the al-miraj and conduct the study. But, we're going to regularly monitor them and the study through an expert on cryptid lagomorphs from Berkeley, and we're going to have a bunny vet do regular check-ups. If they agree, it won't go any farther than this."   The Korean woman nodded and started speaking to the al-miraj's owners. They nodded and asked a couple of questions. They must have been pretty straightforward, because their translator didn't ask her for any clarification. "They understand," said the woman at last, "and they agree. And they want to thank you for not fining or arresting them."   Sable smiled and nodded. "They can't keep showing off the al-miraj in the park, though. I can tell the poor thing is deeply upset. They'll have to take it home."   The woman explained that, too, and they nodded and bowed. The man started taking down the sign, while the girl picked up the cage by its handle.   Sable reached into her fanny pack and pulled out her official ink and stationary, marked with her Royal Cypher. James came over and shifted back to human form to provide his back for a writing desk so that she could pen the writ. The Korean family watched the transformation with wide eyes.   Carefully, she laid out the conditions of the special dispensation so there could be no confusion, and fixed it with her seal. It took a minute or so for the ink and wax to dry properly. "There you are," she said, handing it to the girl. "Keep that on you so that you can show any officials who might ask about it. I'll need their contact information — names, emails, addresses, phone numbers, the works. James, can I get you to make a note of all that for me?"   "Of course, House Leader," he said, and he began copying down what the woman who was translating was saying.   "Thank you, Majesty," said the girl in halting English, bowing again.   Sable smiled. "You're welcome. Take good care of my little friend here, okay?"   Her eye caught movement just past the girl's shoulder, and her gaze focused on Senna, who was coming this way. Myko was with her, and someone else she didn't know.   "Oh, did we get something for their friend?" Tempest asked Gwen. "I wasn't expecting anyone else." They sounded like they really wanted any excuse to change the subject. Caged bunnies, yes. I imagine they do.   "I got us all lunch, actually," Gwen said with a rabbity smile. "I figured we'd probably need extra." Sable's senses were overwhelmed with the delicious scent of satay beef and the sweet anise aroma of pho.   "Double score, Gwen," she said approvingly. "Good thinking. That smells amazing."   "Well, I'm glad you're going to eat, at least," Flubb chuffed with satisfaction.   Sable nodded to the girl with a smile, and moved away so she could wave down Senna and Myko.   They waved back and they all found each other when the crowd cleared to make way for the Bunny Queen and her family.   "Hey Mom!" Myko trilled. There were hugs all around, even cursory ones for Senna, who often didn't like being touched.   "Hey guys!" Sable grinned. "We brought lunch. I hope you're hungry."