"You're beginning to recover?" the Guji asked, and Lishi nodded. The Guji had said nothing to her for several minutes, allowing her to gather herself. The fatigue was receding and she no longer felt as if she needed to sleep, though a deep ache still lingered in her muscles.
"I'm feeling much better now," she told him. "Thank you."
"So tell me, Miss shu'Ling, do you know why I wanted to speak with you?"
Lishi shook her head vigorously at the Guji's question. "Certainly not, Guji. In fact, I thought..." She shook her head again.
The sound of the wind-horns faded as they moved away from the temple, but the crowds still hailed the Guji as they passed, their clasped hands tight against their foreheads. The acolytes were still singing, another of Huxian's compositions. The Guji nodded to the people lining the Boulevard as they approached the Stonecutters Bridge. He raised his hand in greeting even as he spoke with Lishi, not looking at her though she had the impression that he knew the expressions that twisted her lips and lowered her eyebrows. "Go on," he said quietly.
"I thought that, if anything, I would hear only from Hu'Torii shu'Chang," Lishi continued. "As often as he corrected me or told me that I wasn't trying hard enough or wasn't paying close enough attention in his classes, I thought that he would give me a Note of Dispense. I knew all the Sign had already been signed..." The Guji had turned completely away from her, and she wondered whether she'd offended him. "I'm sorry, Guji. I'm chattering on and I shouldn't speak so about Hu'Torii shu'Chang, who was entirely correct in his attitude toward me. I wasn't a good enough student for him, I'm afraid."
"I have indeed signed the Sign that the Torii's Council gave me," the Guji said. He waved to the crowds. He smiled. The sun danced on the silken field over his head. He didn't look at her at all. "Your name wasn't on any of them."
Lishi nodded in acceptance, not able to speak. Despite having steeled herself for the inevitability of her failure, the intensity of the disappointment that washed over her then told her how stubbornly she'd been grasping to hope that she was wrong. Three years... three years and all the fortune that my family paid to Inarian for the privilege, money Papaqin really didn't have, money they'd begged and borrowed... Three years, and now Papaqin will be angry, and that will be worst of all...
She'd told herself that she wouldn't cry, though she'd done so many nights in private since she'd heard about the Sign, but until the note she dreaded came from Hu'Torii shu'Chang she could dry the tears and pretend that she had confidence, at least during the day. The Guji's words made her eyes burn and caused the boulevard around them to waver before her as if it were under the waters of the Yellow River. She could feel the moisture on her cheeks and dabbed at it with her sleeve angrily, hating that she would cry before the Guji, that her pride was so overweening that she couldn't accept the fate Inari had set before her with due humility, that her faith was so fragile and her fear so great.
She hoped that the Guji didn't know about what she'd done with her mamaqin. If so, she was entirely lost.
Lishi realized that the Guji was looking at her, and she wiped at her eyes again. "You should know that it was Hu'Torii shu'Chang who came to me after I was given this year's Sign," the Guji said softly. "He wanted to talk to me privately. About you, Miss shu'Ling. Do you have an idea of what he said?"
Lishi shook her head, mute. Hope lifted its head again, battered and bloodied, but fear caught it in a stranglehold and bore it down. "I won't tell you all," the Guji continued. "It's enough for you to know that Hu'Torii shu'Chang insisted that the Torii's Council had made a mistake, that they'd looked too much at the family names and too little at the students themselves and Hu'Torii shu'Chang's evaluations. He told me that he had a student who sometimes created her own spells with the Misogi rather than those of her instructor's. A student who used the Misogi for fire or earth or air or water, when most students found a strength in only one of those. A student who could quote the Statements and seemed a devout follower of the Confessions, even though there were whispers among her fellow students regarding Mategician tendencies. A student with a natural talent who didn't quite know how to harness or control it—who started a terrible fire, he said, in the Torii' Dining Hall one night, then put it out before the fire-torii could come."
"It was an accident—" Lishi began, but the Guji glanced at her, his hand raised.
"I was impressed by the force of the hu'torii's argument, especially after he reminded me that sometimes Inari manifests even in the most common of frames. As the Statements says—"
" 'Even the humblest can be raised, even the lowest exalted.' " She provided the quote without thinking.
He laughed then, indicating his own stunted body with a hand. "Even the lowest," he repeated. "Miss shu'Ling, do you still desire to accept a Sign? Are you willing to join the Order of Torii if asked?"
"Oh, yes!" she answered in a rush. The affirmation burst from her in a near shout and a laugh that shook tears again from her eyes. She thought the carriage must be shaking with the surge of joy the words had unleashed. "Certainly, Guji."
"Good," the Guji said. He chuckled at her unrestrained joy. "Then I'll have your Sign prepared and signed. You'll no longer be Miss; you'll be Ei'Torii Lishi shu'Ling."
He spoke the title slowly and clearly. He was still looking at her, his head—too large for the small body—tilted to one side as if waiting for the question she wanted to ask. His silence gave her the courage to speak. "I must have misheard you, Guji. I thought... thought you said ei'torii."
"Do I speak so poorly?" he said with a chuckle. "Hu'Torii shu'Chang was... well, he was quite persuasive, and after what I witnessed... I think that we have more than enough in'toriis already. Hu'Torii shu'Chang believed you were already well past the ability expected from an in'torii, and I would agree with him. In fact, you will be attached to my personal staff, Ei'Torii. Is that acceptable to you?"
She had no words. She could only nod, a helpless grin on her face.
"I'll take that as acceptance, then," the Guji said. He sighed, turning away from her to raise his hands again to the crowds. "Ei'Torii, look behind the carriage. Look at the faces you see there."
Lishi glanced down and behind. The an'torii immediately behind the carriage stared back at her, nearly all their gazes lifted toward the carriage. One face in particular snagged her attention. She knew him: Qi wan'Kang, An'Torii of Haixi, Head of the Protectors, and the man who had arrested dozens of Mategician last Inari's Day in Haixi, tried them for forbidden use of the Misogi, then had the prisoners executed in the shrine square before cheering throngs—his face was turned to her, and his stare was intense and appraising.
"You see them?" the Guji said softly. "They're all wondering why you're standing up here with me, wondering what they've missed and how critical it will be to their own power. They're wondering how it is that an inexperienced acolyte could manage a counter-spell that quickly and remain standing afterward. They're wondering, honestly, if they could have done the same. They're trying to figure out how to turn this to their advantage, and whether they should make an overture to you as soon as they can, just in case. When they're dismissed at the Old Shrine, they'll be scattering to their offices and apartments, whispering hurried instructions to their own underlings, trying to find out everything they can about you, hoping to uncover something they can use. One thing you should understand is that in the world you're entering, 'trust,' 'loyalty,' and 'friendship' are all concepts that are liquid and mutable. But then, that's something I suspect you already know."
Lishi shivered. Except for An'Torii wan'Kang's stern and dour face, most of the faces of the an'torii smiled blandly up at her, as if they were pleased with what they saw; one or two even nodded as they made eye contact, their smiles widening. A few of them, looking away, were frowning as if lost in thought. Lishi turned quickly back to the Guji, and his face was also appraising. She wondered how much he knew. If Zoushi or Ahui have whispered to the torii, or if Papaqin has said something...
But the Archigos chuckled again. "As soon as we finish this tiresome routine, I'll sign your Sign in the Old Shrine," he said. "Tonight, after the Lighting of the Boulevard, you'll be anointed before your family, in Inari's Chapel in the Guji's Shrine." Pudgy, splayed fingers touched her shoulder softly and she forced herself not to flinch away from his touch, a touch that reminded her too much of her papaqin's hand. "Shh, Lishi... You know how much I love you. Don't pull away, my little bird..."
"You've been gifted by Inari Himself, Lishi," the Guji said so softly that she could barely hear him over the crowd. "It's rare, that blessing, and sometimes the hardest thing is realizing everything that Inari demands of us in return for the gift." His fingers tightened on her shoulder, and she frowned as the lines deepened in his face. He leaned in closely, so that she could see herself in the dark pupils of his eyes. "The greater the gift, the greater the cost," he whispered. "You will learn that, Ei'Torii. I'm afraid you will learn that well."