When they were ushered into the Huangdi's presence by Zhong, the Huangdi was seated on the Vermillion Throne. There were perhaps three or four dozen other people in the long Hall of the Throne, gathered near the doors: aristocrats, cousins, diplomats, supplicants, courtiers; all waiting for their tightly scheduled moments with the Huangdi, to be seen in her company, to ask for favors or promote their pet causes. Their various conversations—Lishi overheard a circle of young women talking about what they would wear to the Prom, the False World Ball that would take place in the coming week—died momentarily as she followed the Guji into the hall and they all turned to look. The Huangdi herself was separated from the wan'-and-shu' by several strides, with a painter daubing his brush on a canvas before her, though none of the courtiers were close enough to see the painting well. There was an odd black box on a table next to the painter.
"That will be all for now, Mister wei'Rang," the Huangdi said, her voice sounding sleepy and tired as Zhong closed the doors behind Lishi and the Guji. Everyone stared at the newcomers. Lishi felt herself being examined, weighed and measured in their gazes. "If you would leave us..." the Huangdi said to the room, and the courtiers bowed and murmured and left the room in a fluttering of bright finery. "Guji Shiren," they said, nodding politely to the dwarf as they passed. "Good evening, Ei'Torii. So pleased to meet you, Ei'Torii," they said to Lishi, and they also smiled to her. She could see annoyance behind some of the expressions despite the careful social masks—irritation at the schedule and routine being disrupted, at their own appointments being set back or perhaps lost entirely. But Lishi smiled back, as was expected, and her smile meant as much as theirs.
The painter had spread a linen sheet over the canvas so that the work was hidden. Then he, too, turned, and his gaze went to the Guji and then to Lishi. He held Ana too long in his regard for her comfort, as if she were a scene he was considering sketching, before he began bustling about cleaning up his pigments and brushes. As he did so, the Huangdi pushed herself up from the chair and gestured to them as she walked to the balcony of the room. She moved like an ancient, Lishi noticed, with her back bowed much like the Guji's. She took small, careful, shuffling steps.
"You're not feeling well, Huangdi?" the Guji asked with obvious concern in his voice as they went out into the sunshine. Below them, in the courtyard, the gardens were bright with colors set in orderly squares and rows.
"My joints are all a bother today, Shiren; I suspect it will be raining tomorrow, the way they're aching. And I've been sitting too long and talking to too many sycophants." She grimaced, taking a cushioned seat on the balcony. Inside, they could hear the painter gathering up his case and leaving, the sound of his boot soles loud on the tile. "Please, Shiren, I know your aches and pains are easily as bad as mine. Please sit."
She gestured to another chair, and the Guji sat. The Huangdi made no such offer to Lishi. She remained standing, trying to appear composed and calm as the Huangdi gazed openly at her, with lips pressed together into an appraising moue. Lishi kept her eyes properly lowered but glanced at the Huangdi's face through her lashes, a face she'd glimpsed only from a great distance on those occasions when the Huangdi appeared in public. She wore a gown of dark blue silk liberally embroidered with pearls, an emerald set at the center of the high bodice; her hands, arthritic in appearance and pale, lay unmoving in her lap. Her throat was covered by lace, but underneath the thin fabric Lishi could see loose skin hanging under the chin. Her pure white hair was trapped in a comb inlaid with abalone and more pearls. Her mouth, puckered in reflection, was set in a spiderweb of wrinkles, but the eyes—a thin, watery, and delicate blue—were gentler than Lishi had expected, lending mute credence to the Huangdi's popular title as "Peacemeaker." For the last three decades the delicate fabric of alliances she'd spun had kept the various provinces and factions within the Oribis from erupting into open hostilities. There'd been the inevitable skirmishes and attacks, but open warfare had been avoided. To Lishi, the Huangdi seemed impossibly regal, and Lishi kept her hands clasped together in front of her to stop their nervous trembling at being in her presence.
"How has your sleep been, Shiren?"
"As it is always, Huangdi. I'm too often... visited during the night. That hasn't changed. The herbs from the healer you sent me helped for a bit, but lately..." He shrugged.
"I'm sorry to hear that." Then the Huangdi's gaze was on Lishi again. "She's so young, Shiren."
Lishi saw the Guji shrug in the corner of her vision. "We forget, Huangdi. They all look too young to us now. But when I was her age, I was also already a torii. When you were her age, you took the throne and married. She's adept with Misogi, that's what matters. A natural talent, as strong as I was at her age."
"I understand her mamaqin was..." The Huangdi hesitated, and she lifted her chin, still staring at Lishi. "...blessed by Inari when you anointed her."
The Guji smiled at that. "Your sources are very good, Huangdi."
"They're also concerned."
"I know which of the an'torii to watch, Huangdi."
A nod. "You know, of course, that the Guji's life was never in real danger, not from that fool Mategician."
Lishi started, realizing belatedly that the Huangdi was addressing her, not the Guji. She cleared her throat, bringing her hands to her forehead. "I didn't think about it at all, Huangdi," she said. "There wasn't time to think."
"The Guji has given you a great honor, making you an ei'torii. I hope you prove worthy of it."