“You can sit if you want, while We write you a voucher for your Shop,” Sol said, grinning at him. He laid the slip flat on the table and held his fingertip to it, holding it in place with the other hand. A tiny, brilliant spark, like the world’s itty-bittiest welding arc, hissed into existence at the point of contact, and Sol began burning logograms into the slip’s surface. “This won’t take Us long though. The Contract usually handles it, but you’ve managed to work It into both a fine frothing lather of rage and an incredibly tight corner at the same time.”
“He’s – ah, It’s – not in any trouble, is It? Or,” Justin reflected, “not in too much trouble, anyway.”
“No, just angrier than a sewer rat in a festival flood and busier than a one-armed man in a rowboat race,” Sol said. “It’s all good. Been needing to have Its chain jerked for a while now. Knock some of the conceit off Its shoulders. And in the medium to long term, the City will benefit more.”
“Um. I appreciate hearing so,” Justin said.
“Our pleasure,” Sol said. “And We mean exactly that. You Agnostites are always such a refreshing change from the norm, and you yourself are a signally egregious example. Taiko is laughing himself nearly sick in here.”
“Poor Tomu’s loss then, I guess,” Justin said, feeling more than a little off-footed. He found the idea of casual memory removal deeply disturbing, celestially caused or not.
“He’ll live,” Sol said, shrugging the one shoulder of the arm holding the slip in place. “Not like he needs your sympathy, that one.” He paused in his work to look up at Justin. “Might-be does deserve it, though. Up to you.”
He burned a sun disc into the bottom of the jade slip and pushed it across the table. “There you go, one non-transferable blank check for your Shop property. You should be able to find something acceptable in Tzo’s stack; don’t abuse the voucher with personal item additions; touch the vessel and wish for its investiture. What else. . .ah, yes. Cleverly done with the raw seeds, Prominence. We’ll see what We can do about backing that play. Moon’s particularly excited at the prospect. Don’t say ‘honestly.”
“Thank you. Hon-” he caught himself in time and gave Sol a pressed-lip stare. “I put it at less than even odds of – wait, if you already know what I’m going to -”
“Secret of comedy,” Sol interrupted. “See you around, monkey boy.” The fiery orbs shrank back in, fading away to reveal the black eyes of Kyoku Taiko. The senior monk’s features wrinkled up into a squashed rictus of involuntary glee and he toppled over onto his side, curling into a fetal position and wheezing helplessly.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Justin sulked. He was still feeling massively stupid. Not only over failing to put Dawn and Sun together and come up with a four-by-clue, but also for not stopping to take a mere five minutes and brainstorm some countermeasures for his theistic blinders the first time he noticed them!
Idiot! You had a personal guard and sufficient privacy and the time! There was no need to rush, and good reason not too!
And dammit, I’m still not – he stiffened, just as Tomu had, before breathing a sigh of relief. No; I didn’t call on Sol. Or anyone else. 'Dammit' is only a secular exclamation. I think. Good. Right. Okay. But avoid it anyways.
Focus.
Now I stop and take those five minutes, while – he glanced over at Taiko - Monsignor Giggles over there gets it out of his system.
So. What do I know, or at least sufficiently believe?
At least one god is real and actively involved with the world. I have been Blessed by him. His Blessing bestows at least one title, ‘Prominence’ -
Justin paused, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply through his nose. And what is a solar prominence? A filament of plasma thrown off the sun’s surface. Holding its power, but no longer a part of it. Right, he said he didn’t own me.
He opened his eyes again, looking around the Kokyu’s office. It reminded him of the apothecary sets he’d seen in Kung Fu and similar films – lots of drawers set into the walls, most of them small; a low side table with a porcelain tea service, a glowing yellow orb overhead, hanging from the ceiling. No wall art, no personal touches.
What else? He can read my mind. He can predict – prophesize? - my actions. Thinking and probably saying ‘God’ might attract his attention. Treating him like a regular person utterly horrifies Tomu, but sends Laughing Altar Boy over there on a PTO vacay to the Funny Farm.
He associates with the Contract. Remarks suggest his status is higher than Its is. ‘Upper management’? Possibly. He co-operates with the Contract to help fulfill Its duties.
Odds are he really can wipe memories, which is epistemologically terrifying. Uses colloquialisms. Local ones? Likes my seeds scheme and intends to support it, if possible. Claims ‘Moon’, probably another Celestial Court member, is particularly excited about it.
Anything else? Oh, right - willing to tease me. Almost certainly intended me to notice him wanting me to notice noticing how well he can predict – or foresee - my actions. He might as well have underlined it. Wait, what did he say beforehand?
Justin closed his eyes again and searched his short-term memory.
“And in the medium to long term, the City will benefit more.” Was that prophecy? It’s phrased as a flat assertion, not a hope or an estimate. Maybe. Too soon to tell.
The colloquialisms. Keep those in mind. Could be tools for later use. Or hints. Angry sewer rat, festival flood, one-armed man, rowboat race. Contract chain jerked, conceit off shoulders. Tomu doesn’t need my sympathy, up to me. Check.
I should be able to find something acceptable in Tzo’s stack – oh, that’s got be a hint. Ask to see everything he brought. I. . .yeah, without the warning, I might have tried to attach some personal property riders to the purchase. Touch and wish for investiture. . .let’s arrange to have some privacy when we do that.
Hrm. If Sol’s involvement hastens the closing process – bet that slip is some kind of venerable icon now; can I get a document from Taiko certifying it? – then I might ‘invest’ the Shop today. And if the first Supplies drop is either already there, or happens soon afterwards, I need to have the next steps for that lined up and waiting. Ask Taiko about plant magicians. Or clergy. Clergy first.
Okay. . . ?
Nothing else coming to mind.
Countermeasures.
Ah. Celestial Court. Probably in the regal sense, but I can apply the legal one. Treat this place as though it is a courtroom. A foreign one, without enough time to fully prepare; watch out for assumptions. And I’m always in front of the judge. No consults, no recesses. Yes. Good! That will work. It’ll be counterproductively stressful past the short term, but the default mindset should do the job until I fix some new habits.
Good enough for now?
He envisioned Professor Yule from his law degree days, his go-to model of experience for double-checking his case planning. She pored over his imagined outline, squinting through her cherished antique bifocals. Her prissy, creaky old-lady voice echoed in his head: ‘Adequate, Mister Carse’.
He looked at the still incapacitated Taiko.
“Are you going to be done anytime soon?” he asked, exasperated. He gave Tomu a glance; the guardsman was still frozen in place, head turned to the left, eyes glassy. “Poor Tomu here can’t be comfortable like that, and I have other tasks to complete before a business lunch for which I really don’t want to be late. One your god showed up to facilitate, if I may remind you?”
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why would Dawn think Justin is a clown(Buggy)?
Because he knows better than Taiko, who thinks Justin is an absolute unit. See you in chapter 10!
Thanks for reading, and commenting!