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Shit. Did I do anything last time? I couldn’t remember if I got into a fight or broke a bed or something.

“Croygen.” He broke my name apart in English. “You have returned.”

“I have.” I glanced around, but not one table was free.

“You do not remember me. I was a boy when you came last.”

A good reason I didn’t recognize him.

“My father, Baihu, ran it. I’m Fang.”

Baihu. Now I remembered. And I recalled the four-year-old little boy he had. That boy was now in his sixties, at least.

“Yes.” I bowed my head in respect. “Your father was always kind.”

He bowed back.

“Have room for four and a meal?”

“No rooms left.” He shook his head. “No rooms left in this town. Very busy.”

It wasmuchbusier here than I had ever seen it, even in its prime, which seemed odd to me.

“Oh. Okay.” I bowed my head, about to turn away. Maybe we could find a horse stall to hunker down for the night.

“Except.” His words stopped me. “My room and girls’ room.” He nodded to his kids running around the place, only in their early preteens. “You pay price. You can have.”

“What’s the price?” I wasn’t even going to pretend to talk him out of giving up his own rooms. He wouldn’t offer if he didn’t mean it. Most people in these parts didn’t do “nice” for politeness’s sake, putting themselves out for strangers. This was a trade.

“Six hundred yen.”

“Six hundred yen?” I coughed. My eyes widened at the price tag. Equivalent to $80 in the West. At one time, that might have seemed like nothing, but things had changed. Money was a lot harder to come by. “That’s extortion!”

“That is the price.” He shrugged.

“How about three hundred yen?”

“Good luck finding someplace else.” He twisted to leave, my gut twinging at the thought of AB not getting a good night’s sleep. I recalled how fatigued she looked, her illness hanging over me like a hatchet.

“Fine.” I huffed, pulling out the money pouch hidden under my shirt, grumbling as I forked over the bills, cutting into our funds.

“Always good doing business, Croygen.”

“And they say I’m the thief,” I mumbled.

“Come.” He headed for a table of four, shooing them out before they could even finish.

“There. Sit.”

Retrieving the group, I slipped into the tight space, the tables practically on top of each other.

“Oh, my gods, I am starving.” Sprig’s voice hissed from Annabeth’s bag, his head popping out just enough to see him. “Do they have honey chicken? Or maybe honey fried rice? Honey-duck skewers? Honey drizzled pork?”

“Shut up,” I hissed. “Or I’ll be frying you up in honey and skewering a stick upyour-ass.”

“But you’re saying I would die in a bubbling bath of honey?”

“That’s not really a threat to him.” Cooper snorted, pushing Sprig’s head down into the bag.