Seijin came back to Earth on a golden day in October, stepping out of the still airs of between into a brisk, leaf-whipping wind. A temple stood before him—not Seijin's own, for no one builds temples to half-breeds, or assassins, no matter how elevated their origins might be. This place—a rambling, ornate structure covered with gold leaf and red lacquer—had been erected several hundred years ago to the Emperor of Heaven. Former Emperor, female self reminded Seijin reproachfully: it would not do to forget the very purpose of returning here. Seijin considered the temple to be somewhat vulgar and overdone; female self thought that they had always been ahead of their time when it came to internal décor. But that was irrelevant. There was business here.
Seijin skirted the carp pool that lay in front of the temple, mirroring it to perfection when the wind died and the ripples across the water stilled. There were glimpses of the reflected curls of the temple roof in between the sodden yellow leaves—before the Emperor's downfall, these would have been assiduously raked out of the pool every hour by the temple servants, but now that the Emperor was gone, the leaves formed a glossy carpet across the water, with the bright shapes of goldfish and carp flickering beneath them. Seijin raised the hem of the robe and stepped out onto a leaf. Visibility from the temple precinct was good: the staff would by now be aware that they were about to have a visitor. Seijin walked lightly across the path of leaves that covered the pool, scattering shoals of fish. You'd think they'd be used to magic, Seijin thought, but then, the short-term memory of fish is nothing to write home about.
Nor, sometimes, is the memory of gods.
By the time Seijin stepped onto the once glassy surface of the marble steps at the far end of the pool, the temple servants were waiting. Their normally bland faces wore, Seijin was not displeased to see, the same expression as that adopted by the Gatekeeper of the Shadow Pavilion: an agitation overlying fear.
"Honorable Lord Lady Seijin!"
"I need," Seijin said, bending down to the ear of one of the servants, "just to check the date." The genteel dilapidation of the temple might betray its former master's absence, but one never knew: problems had arisen before when moving from between and the worlds: betrayals, traps. One must always remain vigilant.
The servant confirmed the date and Seijin gave a gentle smile. "That's good. Thank you. Now. I understand someone is waiting to see me."
Preceded by much bowing and scraping, which Seijin ignored (always such a fuss with these people), the way to the temple's current occupant was shown. The interior of the temple had been cared for rather better than its grounds; Seijin walked past glittering tapestries, on marble floors inlaid with golden flowers, beneath a host of floating candles, to the inner sanctum, a windowless room redolent of jasmine.
Seijin did make a bow, but only a very little one.
"Madam. You wanted to see me?"
"I did." There was no bow in return, of course. She was seated on a throne at the far end of the room, beneath a gleaming canopy. Sky-blue robes, embroidered with clouds, pooled around her feet. She held a peacock feather fan, half-concealing her beautiful face. "I am glad that you came so promptly."
"The gladness is mine," Seijin replied. "Between is sometimes . . . tricky."
"I'm sure. You experienced no difficulties? You were not followed?"
"No." This said with a degree of some confidence: Seijin had experience of many tricks. "Might I confirm that you have not discussed our arrangement with anyone else, however?"
"No one. Not even my most trusted advisers. I find that my son has become inexplicably popular. My husband was on the throne for over a thousand years, you see. Spirits are like children, they crave novelty, and now they have it."
Seijin gave a thin smile. "A honeymoon period, I am sure."
The silence behind him was suddenly very noticeable, with even the hushed and reverent sounds of the temple abruptly cut off. Seijin knew, without needing to look, that turning around would not reveal the door; the chamber had been entirely sealed.
"Indeed. Thank you, Seijin, for your tact." The Dowager Empress' smile was equally thin. "But then again, if you perform correctly the task for which you have been contracted, the honeymoon will not be followed by a marriage."
"Well," Seijin remarked philosophically, "certainly not a happy one."
"When we last spoke, it was of necessity a brief meeting. My son had not yet been crowned, and I was not sure—I felt that this regrettable procedure might be necessary, but I had to make certain." The Dowager Empress spoke earnestly and Seijin granted her the weight of full attention. Difficult not to, in any case: Seijin might be beyond most of the rules which governed the three worlds, but this was, after all, Heaven's own Empress and she commanded a degree of concentration. It was hard to look anywhere other than her lovely face: no wonder she had held so much power for so long, even with an Imperial husband and the sheeplike nature of the inhabitants of Heaven.
"I understand," Seijin murmured. The Empress rose in a rustle of sky-blue and cloud—not simply the color, Seijin saw, but actual fragments of sky and wisps of mist—and came down the steps of the throne to stand beside her latest employee. She put a hand on Seijin's arm and the coolness of her fingers penetrated the armor.
"I have heard a great deal about you, Lord Lady Seijin. A child of Heaven and Hell, born on Earth. Male and female, in one body. Light and darkness. Some people call you an abomination."
"Some people," Seijin said, smiling, "are not wrong."
"They tell me you began your—career—in the Khan's armies. That you were trained by one of the monks he had captured. That you were responsible for massacres at Samarkand."
Seijin said, deprecatingly, "This, too, is true. All except the massacre, although I was involved. But I prefer subtlety. One on one, as they say nowadays."
"They say you have not had a commission for some years. Perhaps, for half a century." The coolness of her hand was deepening into frost; Seijin had to struggle not to pull the arm away.
"Ah," Seijin said. "But did they also tell you that this is because I turned many offers down?"
"No," the Dowager Empress said, considering. "They did not tell me that."
"I had proposals from kings and dictators and presidents. From Führers and gangsters. Nothing interested me sufficiently to accept it. Some foolish folk attempted to coerce me, and were taught the nature of their error. Some attempted to bribe, which is a little more intelligent. But my current place of residence is between, you see, and there I have no need of wealth."
"You are sometimes called the Lord Lady of Shadow Pavilion," the Dowager Empress said.
"I have all I need in the Twilight Lands. But that is not to say that I have retired." Here, female self made a small, mute protest, which Seijin ignored. "Your proposition was most interesting. I did not hesitate to sign your contract. To kill the Emperor, your own son?"
The touch on Seijin's arm burned like ice. "Do you judge me, Lord Lady Assassin?"
Seijin turned to her full-on, and said, "I don't judge. I just kill."