Insultingly, the Star of Heavenly Joy arrived barely on time, which meant that he was late. Not a good look for someone begging a favor from her.
The Goddess of Life had not, of course, been waiting in the entry hall for him – way too many documents required stamping for that, plus whoever heard of a Bureau Director waiting for an Assistant Director? She had, however, been rehearsing variations of their conversation, and by the time her head clerk announced her guest’s arrival, she was already sick of both it and him.
Make that “them,” she decided as the star sprite prostrated himself before her desk.
“Don’t grovel,” she snapped. “Show him to the west balcony. Tell him I am held up by matters of critical import but will be there shortly.”
While the clerk bowed himself out, she picked up the next scroll and skimmed it. One of the Commissioners of Pestilence was applying for permission to unleash a plague on North Serica.
Offerings from the north have dwindled as humans have forgotten their respect for us, he wrote. We request permission to remind them what they owe the Bureau of Human Lives and the great Lady who leads us.
About to stamp the bottom and toss it onto the “approved” heap, she paused. A plague in North Serica. A pesky soul who was even now re-coalescing in the Bureau of Reincarnation. She rolled the scroll back up and tucked it into her sleeve. Accompanied by only two attendants (this Bureau really did need more funding!), she swept onto the west balcony in a cloud of sweet lotus fragrance.
Most rudely, the Star of Heavenly Joy had his back to the doorway when she arrived. Relying on his horde of attendants to alert him to any backstabbing, he was sipping tea from a crude cup. He held it in the tips of his fingers, as if the clay might flake off and soil his smooth, white skin. It was a far cry from the porcelain tea sets that the other Bureaus brought out for formal events.
“Why did you use that set?” she hissed at her head clerk.
“Forgive me, Heavenly Lady, but I thought you would want us to use our most precious set,” he babbled back. “These vessels were shaped by the hands of the earliest humans. They are treasures of the Bureau, so I thought – “
“You’re not hired to think. Next time, use the modern porcelain.”
“Yes, yes, I see now, these are far too fragile for everyday use. I do humbly beg forgiveness for – “
She swept across the balcony to join the Star of Heavenly Joy at the railing. The height afforded them a fine view across the rolling sea of clouds, dyed vermilion and scarlet and lotus pink by the Weaver Maidens.
“Assistant Director,” she said in her most serene voice, “what a pleasure it is to speak with my successor in person. Welcome to the Bureau of Human Lives.”
He bowed gracefully. “Director, thank you for making time in your impossibly busy schedule to mentor me.” When his head came up again, a smile lit his eyes and softened his lips, the very picture of a schoolboy contemplating the object of his adoration.
Oh yes, she could see how this man had charmed the committee into approving his promotion to Assistant Director, how he had charmed those three Peaches of Immortality out of whoever was supposed to be guarding the orchard. She felt an answering smile lift her own lips and flattened their corners.
“Please, shall we sit?” She gestured at the table that had been re-set with modern porcelain while they conversed. After the obligatory remarks about the deliciousness of the teacakes and the skill of her pastry chef (singular), she brought the conversation around to business. “You mentioned that you are troubled by a case at the Bureau of Reincarnation?”
The Star of Heavenly Joy’s face set into stern lines. It was a sudden and breathtaking change from the affectionate manner he had affected earlier. This man you could imagine as emperor.
“Yes. Soul Number 11270 has been abusing its special permission to retain its memories on Earth.”
Special permission that I was forced to grant because you broke the regulations and meddled with its Tier.
The Superintendent of Reincarnation and all the Accountants had been livid. Individually, they were mere star sprites and could accomplish nothing, but together, they had the power to gum up the functioning of the Bureau. A delay here, “lost” paperwork there, one clerk going home on time instead of staying late to finish a case, another staying resolutely asleep instead of rushing into the office to resolve an emergency – it all added up to catastrophe.
The Goddess of Life sighed lightly. “Has this soul been abusing the gift I granted it in recompense for an error in judgement made by one of my employees? How fortunate, then, that that employee is still at the Bureau and can take steps to rectify the situation.”
The Star of Heavenly Joy leaned forward, his sudden intensity washing over her. “Do you have any advice on how the situation should be rectified?”
Her heartrate had gone up. She trailed a bored hand across her armrest to hide it. “Goodness, there are so many options that it is difficult to list them all. Simplest, of course, would be to revoke the special permission in light of the soul’s recent transgressions.”
“Ah, yes.” From his satisfied tone, she could tell that was what he’d been hoping to obtain – her express permission to revoke her decree. He neglected to thank her for it. “There is a related, delicate matter on which I wished to consult you.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The Goddess of Life felt the scroll inside her sleeve. She arched her eyebrows, inviting him to continue.
“Soul Number 11270 has abused its understanding of the karma system to accumulate positive karma at a rate that is unfair to others. Worse, she has been spreading that understanding to others. If the way the system works becomes common knowledge, it will no longer function to reward true virtue. Instead, it will reward those who are most talented at feigning virtue.”
Still bitter at the fox demon who brought down your empire, are you, Cassius?
The Goddess of Life picked up another teacake and pretended to admire its golden-brown crust. “Well, if the soul has transgressed so badly, surely the Accountants will take that into account when calculating her total karma.”
“But that is the problem! They tell me that she has accumulated so much positive karma that, under their model, she is due for a promotion!”
My heart bleeds for you, who have such a crafty soul working to enrich your Bureau with offerings.
Aloud, she said, “A promotion in Tier?”
“No, nothing quite so extreme. But a promotion within her current Tier, from feathered to furred creature.”
“With such a plethora of furred creatures to select from, I fail to see the problem.” The scroll in her sleeve crinkled as she popped the teacake into her mouth. “Although, I do have it on good authority that the Commissioners of Pestilence are concerned that humans in North Serica have forgotten them.”
The Star of Heavenly Joy’s eyes burned. “Why, then, a good plague might remind them of the respect due the gods.”
“Indeed.”
They smiled at each other over the teacups. He broke their stare first and inclined his head.
“Thank you for your most generous advice, gracious lady. If I might ever be of service to you....”
You already have. “I will be sure to let you know.”
After the Star of Heavenly Joy had left, the Goddess of Life took the scroll out of her sleeve. Her head clerk leaped forward with a brush and inkstone, and she wrote across the bottom, Implement the plague no sooner than one moon hence. Fiat.
Let it be done.
With great satisfaction, she stamped it with her official seal.
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I awoke in darkness in an archival box. Whew! That meant I was still Black Tier. It would have been terrible if founding the Temple to the Kitchen God had earned me so much positive karma that I’d overshot and landed in Red Tier with the monkeys or, worse, in Yellow Tier with the humans! Flicker had once hinted that the amount of karma required to advance from Tier to Tier grew exponentially (and then had had to draw a picture to explain what “exponential growth” was, i.e. some Accountant’s evil dream). To drop myself from Yellow Tier to Black, who knew what I’d have to do? Destroy another empire?
Bobo’s face filled my mind, eyes wide and shocked. “But we jussst re-founded this one!” she’d protest.
Stripey’s face – his whistling duck face – superimposed itself over hers. “Oh, Piri. Really?”
Their imagined disappointment was hard to bear.
No, I said out loud. Not really. It was just a joke.
And now I was talking to figments of my imagination. Lovely.
For the remainder of the forty-nine days, I fretted over all the trouble that my friends would get into without me. The foxling was as dangerously erratic as, well, me, if I were being honest. Steelfang and his wolves wouldn’t lift a paw to restrain her. Floridiana, meanwhile, would leap on Dusty’s back and go galloping off at the first hint of adventure, with Den flying after them. Even Lodia had begun to display a worrisome tendency towards impulsiveness. I had to get back as fast as I could.
Let’s see. If I reincarnated again as a sparrow outside Lychee Grove, how long would it take to fly to Flying Fish Village?
Too long.
In that case, could I convince Lodia’s grandmother or father, or maybe even the Lady of the Lychee Tree, to help me?
Unlikely. All of them distrusted me too much.
However, if I waited until my wings were strong enough to carry me to Goldhill, I could seek out Anthea. She’d wail about the expense and her emptying treasury, but that was all right. I merely needed to remind her that the Temple benefitted her more than anyone else.
All right. I had a plan.
“And if you aren’t reincarnated as a sparrow outside Lychee Grove this time?” Stripey asked inside my mind. “What then?”
But without knowing what I reincarnated as or where, the possibilities were infinite. So, in the end, I settled down to wait.
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“Congratulations,” Flicker said, sounding anything but congratulatory. “You have accumulated so much positive karma that you have been promoted from feathered creature to furred.”
My reaction matched his tone. My plan depended on having wings. Now how was I supposed to return to Flying Fish Village?
Are you sure about that? I pressed, before the implication of his final word hit me. Wait! Did you say “furred”? As in, an animal with fur? As in – a fox?!
Flicker sucked his cheeks in as he searched for a way to let me down gently. “Well, you see, you’re only going to be an entry-level furred creature....”
The door banged open behind me, then slammed shut behind a tall figure draped in the midnight-blue robes of a star god. Cassius. Surveying the silk with distaste, I thought that Lodia could have done such a better job on the embroidery. None of these utilitarian, five-pointed stars – she could have made you feel as if you were falling into the night when you looked at the constellations.
Flicker scrambled to prostrate himself. “Assistant Director! How may I be of service?”
Uh…. Assistant Director?
I swung from side to side, as if the motion could negate the reality. Cassius had become the Assistant Director of Reincarnation? But that meant – with the Kitchen God away all the time – Cassius was effectively in charge of the Bureau! Cassius, who hated me! Cassius, who had already interfered in my reincarnation once before, so blatantly that the Goddess of Life had been forced to redress it –
Oh, no. No no no.
Cassius was Assistant Director now. That meant – that meant – if he wanted to, he had the authority to –
I dipped all the way to the floor in a soul’s approximation of a genuflection. Heavenly Lord, might I congratulate you on your promotion?
I thought I’d injected the perfect amount of awe into my murmur, but the hard lines of his face didn’t relax. Instead, he strode forward. Too late, I realized where his path would take him and glided sideways –
Splat.
He crushed me underfoot, leaving me a smear of black on the floorboards.
Flicker gasped. I cried out, more from shock than pain. Being smashed and ground into the floorboards under his heel didn’t actually hurt. I was strong. I was resilient. I was a squishy ball of light. Chanting this over and over, I peeled myself off the slats and popped back into a sphere.
Level with me was Flicker’s horrified face.
A screech of chair legs told us that Cassius had just commandeered the only seat in the office. Papers rustled.
The last time he’d come in here, I’d flattered him, snuggled up to him, stroked his ego. It had failed, but I’d had nothing to lose by angering him either. This time – this time –
Staying put on the floor, I breathed, Heavenly Lord, your interest in my case honors me. Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit?
A sharp rap on the table above me.
“As Assistant Director of Reincarnation, I hereby revoke the permission granted by my predecessor for you to keep your memories when you reincarnate.”