While Floridiana and Dusty had been off recruiting priests in the slum, I’d been having a much less pleasant afternoon. The cause, as you probably guessed, was Anthea. Specifically, with a summons from that raccoon dog. A summons. As if she were my superior, and I a mere underling at her beck and call!

I ignored it, of course. I had more important things to do. Such as inspecting and critiquing Lodia’s embroidery, lest she waste too much time on a robe I would ultimately have to reject. (And it was a good thing I checked too, because the shade of red thread she’d selected was waaaay too subtle. I mean, it bordered on coral. I knew from all the time I’d spent in Heaven that the gods favored a florid vermillion.)

Also, Katu required supervision. Any time Lodia came over on any kind of business, Temple or otherwise, he’d drop his brush to play bodyguard. Something about how there were too many strange workmen here, as if they might be more interested in harassing one young woman than in renovating my Temple. As I told Katu over and over, keeping the builders in line was the steward’s job, not his. His job was to produce that gods-cursed song cycle honoring the Kitchen God – of which he had yet to finish a single song. Something about how nothing he composed was suitable to dedicate to a god.

Every time the steward spotted another basket of crumpled papers covered in blacked-out scribbles, Camphorus Unus’ brows would knit in a worried frown. I was glad someone shared my concern that the poet would never finish.

Speaking of the renovations, they, too, required much attention. I’d commissioned the foremost carpentry workshop in Goldhill to create the altar and the carvings for the walls and pillars. However, just because these carpenters made furniture for the royal household didn’t mean that their craftsmanship was up to my standards, and more often than not, the materials they sourced were simply subpar. Every couple days, Bobo and I went through our ventriloquism routine as we inspected their handiwork in what would be the Main Hall of the Temple.

This was, in fact, what we were doing when the first “summons” from Anthea arrived.

That portion needs to be covered in gold leaf, I was informing the master carpenter through Bobo. Gold leaf, hear. No ssslapping sssome yellow paint on it and calling it a day. Remember, this is a HOLY BUILDING dedicated to the god who lives among us.

Unfortunately, the carpenters had heard it so many times that they’d desensitized to the divine.

“Yes, spirit, I know,” replied the head carpenter with exasperation, “but the goldsmith is behind on his delivery, so we simply do not have enough gold leaf to finish right now.”

A whiff of camphor preceded the arrival of the steward. Keeping my intelligence a secret from Camphorus Unus would have been impossible, so I hadn’t bothered to try. Shortly after we moved in, I’d told him that I was a mind trapped in the body of a mortal animal, and the old tree had accepted it at once. Unless you were threatening to burn down their trees, tree spirits were hard to ruffle.

Now he advanced towards us, and, keeping up the charade, bowed to Bobo. “Spirit, a message from Lady Anthea.” And he stepped aside to reveal a young boy in Anthea’s livery.

The messenger boy, too, bowed to Bobo. “Respectful greetings, spirit. Lady Anthea requests the pleasure of your company for tea.”

I waited for him to state the date and time.

And then I waited some more.

I waited so long that Bobo twisted her neck to look at me for instructions.

Through her, I prompted, And on what day does ssshe anticipate the pleasssure of my company?

At my sarcastic tone, the boy blanched, but Anthea had trained him adequately. He bowed again. “Begging your pardon, spirit, but she requests the pleasure of your company right now.”

Right now, you say.

“Yes, noble spirit. That was what she said.”

The nerve of that raccoon dog! No one invited a guest to drop everything they were doing and rush over on the same day! It smacked of the grossest contempt.

In my most saccharine voice, I gave my reply: Pleassse convey my thanks for the invitation to your missstress, along with my deepessst regrets that I sssimply cannot essscape my duties at the moment.

This annoyance disposed of, I went back to inspecting the carvings.

But Anthea was raccoon-doggedly persistent.

Fifteen minutes later, the messenger boy was back. By this time, I’d resolved the matter of the tardy gold leaf delivery (by having the head carpenter place a rush order with the goldsmith) and had moved on to selecting the shade of vermillion paint that best matched the one favored in Heaven. Alas, no paint on Earth could match that vibrancy.

“Begging your pardon, spirit, but her ladyship strongly requests the pleasure of your company at tea right now.”

Presssent my regrets to her, but I sssimply cannot get away.

And another fifteen minutes later, while I was struggling to decide between the last two candidates for the vermillion paint: “Begging your pardon most profoundly, spirit, but her ladyship strenuously requests the pleasure of your company at tea. Right now.”

I didn’t bother to look up from the test swatches. Regrettably, my cirumssstances have not changed. My anssswer remains the sssame.

Only ten minutes later this time, in some desperation: “I beg you to forgive me, spirit, but her ladyship demands your presence right this instant.”

Demanded my presence? Demanded my presence? Who was that raccoon dog to demand anything of me? When I was the one doing her the biggest favor in existence, saving her furry neck from the same punishment that I’d suffered?

Tell her: No.

This time, fifteen minutes, then half an hour, and then a full hour elapsed without further interruption. Entirely unsurprisingly, Anthea had already forgotten whatever she’d wanted to harass me over. I wrapped up my discussion with the carpenters and returned to the study to check on Katu and Floridiana’s progress.

And that was where the gods-cursed raccoon dog herself tracked me down.

The two of you need to coordinate better, I was lecturing Katu and Floridiana. Look, you’re not using the same terminology. See? Here Katu calls the Kitchen God “the Divine Intercessor,” but Floridiana always refers to him as “the Stove God.”

“That’s because you called him ‘the Divine Intercessor’,” Katu protested, winning my eternal fondness.

“That’s because ‘the Stove God’ is the most common epithet for him in the source materials,” Floridiana objected, most assuredly not winning my eternal fondness.

Blah, don’t be so pedantic.

“I am a teacher. I am by definition pedantic. You’re the one who made me into a teacher in the first place.”

That doesn’t mean you have to –

A commotion in the hallway caught my attention. “Please at least wait for me to announce you,” protested Camphorus Unus’ voice, and then the steward rushed in like a wind shaking the branches of a great tree, calling, “Lady Anthea, here to see – ”

A screech cut him off. “Everyone out except for Pip!” And the raccoon dog came stomping in with as much grace as Taila throwing a tantrum.

Her peanut gallery poured through the doorway after her, blocking anyone inside the room from getting out, and hence rendering their mistress’ command moot.

Katu swept Anthea an extravagant bow. Floridiana executed a more precise one, while Bobo bobbled her head happily. The bamboo viper really did like everyone.

As for me, I didn’t bother to do a thing. Hey, I was supposed to be playing normal sparrow, wasn’t I? Would a normal sparrow bow?

“All of you, out! That includes you too,” Anthea ordered, sweeping an arm at her peanut gallery.

“Aww, my lady!” they protested, but they turned around and started traipsing back into the hallway.

“My lady!” cried Katu, still holding his dramatic bow. “What brings you to grace our humble assemblage with your magnificent, intoxicating presence?”

Humble?

Her face softened as her gaze landed on him. “I need to speak to her. In private. Now.”

Floridiana looked between the raccoon dog and me. Then she snatched a stack of papers off her desk. “Of course, my lady. I shall be in the bookroom if you need me.”

Coward, I muttered, loud enough that everyone in the room could hear me, but not so loud that the hangers-on in the hallway could.

The ex-traveling mage looked down her nose at me. “I have never aspired to feats of heroism and derring-do. I would assume you prefer that to be the case in your headmistress.”

Without giving me a chance to retort, she bowed once more to Anthea and exited the room. Katu bounced after her, but when Bobo made to follow, I stopped her.

I need you to keep up the pretense, I reminded her.

Anthea’s peanut gallery didn’t know about me. At least, they’d better not.

The door shut firmly behind Katu, leaving me confronting my old nemesis. I flew up to the top of a heap of books so I could stare her in the face.

Well, what is it? I’m very busy, you know. I can’t drop everything at a split second’s notice to cater to your whims.

“Cater to my whims – !”

Even Taila was more articulate. Yes, little spirit. Your whims and caprices might amuse the royal court, such as it is, but you can’t fool me.

In the past, Anthea would have flown into a rage and stamped her feet and screeched, making an utter fool of herself in front of important personages. Perhaps she had learned some self-control in the intervening centuries, because she merely gnashed her teeth and clenched her fists.

“Piri. We need to talk about your spending.”

Oh, not that again.

Indeed we do, I agreed, catching her off guard. I heard how much trouble you have been giving Lodia about the materials for the priest robes. I’m disappointed. I would have thought that, by now, you would have learned the importance of outward appearance.

I gave her outfit a deliberate up-and-down scan. It was a shame beaks couldn’t curl, but I settled for shaking my head sadly.

Sometime in the past five hundred years, Anthea had learned to keep her train of thought on track. A shame, that. “Piri. You are spending money like you still have access to the Imperial Treasury. Money does not grow in rice paddies.”

Oh, is that the case? I heard that it literally does, here. I must be woefully misinformed as to the South Serican financial system.

“You’re always willfully misinformed as to anything that doesn’t suit your purposes! Always! Always always always! The Imperial Builder told you, the Imperial Treasurer told you, Her Imperial Majesty herself told you, and I told you, over and over and over, that the money was running out! All you had to do was walk to the Treasury, open the doors, and look. But no, you had to get dressed for a ball. You had to look over the menu for a banquet. You had to feed treats to the chimera. You had to inspect the garden to see if the gardeners sourced the precise shade of yellow chrysanthemums you wanted. You had to ‘babysit’ Cassia Quarta – and who was the one who had to get her back to her mother after you let her go diving in the lake – ”

I’d like to see you do better with that girl, I retorted. Have you tried to make her do anything she doesn’t want to do?

“Present tense, Piri? You really are living in the past, aren’t you?”

I puffed up all my feathers – but I couldn’t defend myself. I couldn’t let Anthea know about Cassia Quarta’s latest reincarnation. Who knew how the raccoon dog would exploit that knowledge?

“Get real, Piri! We’re not living in the Empire anymore! It’s over! It’s gone! It’s never coming back! It’s time to move on!”

Says the spirit who built herself a miniature model of the Imperial Palace.

That stopped her short. She couldn’t think of a good comeback – because none existed.

She stamped her slippered foot. Ah, the memories.

“And stop stealing my staff! You always steal my staff! Every time I hire someone promising, you snatch them! Well, not this time! Koh Lodia and Len Katullus are mine! Don’t forget, you were the one who manipulated me into hiring Lodia in the first place!”

I had hoped she’d forgotten that. Her memory could be most inconvenient at times.

“Well, no more! We’re not in the City of Dawn Song or in the Imperial Court anymore! This time, we’re in Goldhill and in Jullie’s court. This time, we’re doing things my way! And I refuse to pay another GRAIN OF RICE for your extravagant follies!”