That was not fun! That was really, really not fun! Flicker, why did you tell me to kill Lord Silurus?

After forty-nine days in the archives, I was back to glowy ball form, but I still felt…goopy. Like a floating puddle of digested goop and stomach acids. I kept dipping down to brush Flicker’s desk, just to reassure myself that I couldn’t dissolve wood. The odd behavior wasn’t improving his mood.

“As I recall,” he snapped, “I did no such thing. I merely suggested that killing Lord Silurus was an option when you demanded to know how you could earn positive karma as a softshell turtle.”

I meant realistic options!

“Then wait two years until you’re big enough for the stewpot.”

No! That’s too slow!

Flicker shrugged, fed up. “Stop complaining. You received positive karma for injuring the demon.”

I did?

Brightening, I bounced off his desk. (The wood was fine. Scarred and pitted, yes, but no more scarred and pitted than it had been when I entered the office.)

“Yes. You inflicted some minor scratches in his throat, plus a stomach lesion.”

The spear had worked then! And here I was, feeling all depressed because I thought I hadn’t done any damage. Yay! All right! Does that mean I’ll advance to Black Tier soon?

“Probably not.”

Figured. Nothing good ever happened to me. I sagged back onto his desk. So what are you going to make me reincarnate as next time?

“You’ll be a – ” he began, but a tap on the grate interrupted him. Through the bars, I could make out part of a star child’s face.

With a sigh worthy of his most passive-aggressive colleague, Flicker tipped his chair back and leaned all the way over to shove the grate sideways with his fingertips. It creaked and stuck.

I followed his motions with breathless anticipation, waiting for him to topple over – but he didn’t.

“Message for you, Flicker!” chirped the messenger, shoving a small scroll through the part of the grate he had managed to open.

“Thank you.”

Flicker took it, scraped the grate shut, and thumped his chair legs back onto the floor.

You should oil that or something, I advised.

He ignored me. Unrolling the scroll, he held it up to read. Even backlit by his glow, the paper was too thick for the writing to show through, which was annoying – but not insurmountable. I was edging to the side to peek around it when he groaned and laid it flat on the desk.

“Here. You can read it.”

I didn’t hesitate before dropping down and hovering over the note. There wasn’t much to read, though. All it said was:

        Meet by lotus pond behind Sky Br. Pav. Bring it. Destroy this note.

It was unsigned, but I knew the handwriting. Interestingly, the “it” was a little wobbly, as if the author had wavered over how to phrase her request and decided only after starting to write a different character to leave it as ambiguous as possible.

What a shame Aurelia hadn’t been part of the Imperial secret police. I could have used agents like her.

While I was savoring the image of bumbling double agents mocked behind their backs by traitorous conspirators, Flicker snapped his fingers. A little spark of starlight leaped up, and he used it to burn the note. Then he spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “We’d better be off, Piri.”

Maybe. He’d be better off answering a star goddess’ summons promptly, but how about me?

Tipping to a side, I projected confusion. What could the Star of Reflected Brightness possibly want from me?

“Shh!” he hissed, eyes darting to the grate. Hunching over, he mouthed, “She did say she wanted to hear more about her former daughter’s life, didn’t she?”

Hmmm. She had indeed. It looked like my little charade at the tea party, feigning obedience to the Bureau of Reincarnation, had paid off. As hoped, Aurelia had realized that she wouldn’t receive any more information through official channels and, in her maternal desperation, had decided to circumvent them.

Now, what could I extract from her in exchange? Mulling over my options, I rose and followed Flicker towards the door – and nearly smashed into his back when he stopped all of a sudden.

“Wait, a soul can’t be seen outside this building. Um.”

Helplessly, he scanned his tiny office and even looked up and down his own person, trying to figure out how to hide me.

Wasn’t it obvious?

I zipped into his sleeve and buried myself within its folds. A shudder convulsed his body, and on instinct he lifted his arm to shake me out, then forced himself to lower it again. With him holding his arm away from his body at an awkward angle, and me nestled in the cloth (not even touching his skin, so I didn’t know why he was so squeamish), we left the Bureau of Reincarnation.

Flicker chose a footpath that ran parallel to the service canal, so through the sleeve’s opening, I caught glimpses of imp boatmen and rafts loaded with potted peonies. It was nighttime, but as we approached the Sky Breeze Pavilion, I saw that the garden next to it was ablaze with lanterns. Gardeners swarmed through it, arranging peonies in brilliant rows against a backdrop of twisted grey rocks, sleek bamboo, and gnarled pines.

Peony viewing coming up? I whispered.

“Shh!” Flicker waited until we were on the other side of the Sky Breeze Pavilion before he answered. “Yes. The Star of Reflected Brightness is overseeing preparations,” he added before I asked.

The stark contrast with the colors and activity in the garden made the pocket-sized pond behind the conference center feel even more neglected. Lotus leaves rustled forlornly above the dark water. A mass of willow branches drooped listlessly to the grass, curtaining off the tree trunk and mostly blocking the telltale white glow next to it.

Flicker pushed through the willow leaves and fell to the ground, prostrating himself – and squishing me in the process.

With an indignant squeak, I squirmed out from under his forearm. Hey! Watch it!

I could feel his full-body cringe.

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From above us came a cool voice. “You may raise your head.”

Flicker straightened into a kneeling position at once. I shook myself, un-squashing myself back into a ball. Then I peeked out of his sleeve.

In front of the trunk stood Aurelia, hands clasped in front of herself in an attempt at serenity. There was no sign of her crane maiden attendants. How had she managed to lose them?

“Soul, come out. I don’t have much time,” she said, dispensing with her usual graceful speech. Even as I obeyed, she was already continuing, “I understand that you will be reincarnated in Black Sand Creek. Protect a human child for me, and I will speak to the Accountants on your behalf.”

That was not the request I’d been expecting. Or, from the way Flicker stiffened, that he had been expecting. After all his talk of incorruptible Accountants, too! Ha. I knew it!

My lady, I beg your pardon, but I will be reincarnated as a lowly, unintelligent creature. How can I protect a human child?

She pursed her lips, displeased at the waste of time. “No need for the pretense.”

If I’d had a heart, it would have stopped.

But she continued without uttering the fatal name. “I learned that you were granted special dispensation to keep your mind when you reincarnate, soul.”

She hadn’t learned who I’d been, then. I dipped a little, with relief. She seemed to interpret it as an apology.

I would be happy to obey my lady, of course, but I would like a better assurance than simply that you will speak to the Accountants. Also, please define what you mean by “protect.”

“Keep her from drowning, getting eaten by demons, or otherwise dying.”

That was direct enough. How will I recognize this child? Does she have a name?

“Jek Taila. She reincarnated as the younger sister of the little girl who – ” a slight wince – “died in the same demon attack as you.”

Any identifying features?

“She is currently four years old. Round face, big brown eyes, straight black hair braided into two pigtails.”

Apart from the age, that described pretty much every single underage female human in the Claymouth Barony. And I’d always been terrible at estimating children’s ages. They all looked the same to me.

I was about to point that out (albeit more diplomatically), when Aurelia added with a small, fond smile, “She will be the one with streaks of food on her cheeks.”

Ah. Better. That should help narrow it down. I found myself remembering Taila’s predecessor gobbling a red bean paste sticky rice dumpling at the Dragon Boat Festival and making a mess of it.

And what is the time frame of this protection? Surely there must be an end date?

“When you die or she moves away from Black Sand Creek, whichever happens first.”

That was reasonable. The effectiveness of my protection will depend heavily on the type of creature I reincarnate as, I pointed out. If, for example, I am a catfish, I will be very limited in my range of motion and abilities.

Aurelia looked down at Flicker. “What is her next assignment?”

“Softshell turtle, my lady.”

Aurelia apparently had about as much experience with softshell turtles as I’d had prior to turning into one. She lifted one inquiring eyebrow.

I shook myself side-to-side. Softshell turtles spend most of their time in the water, my lady. I would not be able to spend much time on land guarding – I nearly blurted out “your daughter” but caught myself – a human child.

“I see. Flicker, can you reincarnate her as a land creature?”

He cringed and ducked his head. “I’m sorry, my lady, but that would be extremely difficult. The Superintendent has assigned her to the Black Sand Creek fief. Reincarnating her as a land creature would require transferring her to the Claymouth Barony, which would require significant modifications to the paperwork….”

He didn’t need to explain further. “How about a...frog then?” she asked. “How difficult would it be to reincarnate her as a frog instead of a turtle?”

Mutely, he extended my file and showed her the cover, reminding her that the rune for “frog” looked nothing like the one for “turtle.”

“It would be difficult to ascribe that change to clerical error,” she realized.

Flicker gulped, probably picturing Glitter’s wrath if she discovered that he had “misread” his instructions.

Aurelia exhaled, a soft, frustrated sound. “We’ll just have to make do with some sort of turtle then. Softshell turtle…softshell turtle – oh! Make her an oracle-shell turtle!”

That was the type of turtle whose belly shells the humans had used for divination millennia ago, before their mages figured out how to do real magic. I didn’t know much more than that because I had no interest in ancient history, but I did have a vague sense that the diviners carved their questions into the shells, heated them until they cracked (the shells, not the humans, although that would have been pretty entertaining), and then somehow interpreted the pattern of the cracks. Some of Cassius’ more academically-inclined mages, the kind that had to be hauled away from their research to attend court gatherings, had spent said gatherings droning on and on about historical magical practices, always concluding smugly that ancient magic had been pure superstition. Even though they’d bored me to tears, I’d still thrown funding at them, because if they were sequestered in their labs, then they weren’t out fighting demons or otherwise being useful to the empire.

Regardless, I didn’t know how the whole oracle-shell turtle looked, because I’d only ever seen their cracked, petrified belly shells.

Are they – “cute,” I wanted to ask, but restrained myself. Do they spend more time on land than softshell turtles?

“I believe so,” she replied. “Is that a small-enough change that your Bureau won’t notice, Flicker?”

His shoulders slumped. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this unscathed. “Yes, my lady,” he forced out. “It should not be noticed unless someone specifically audits this soul’s file.”

“Good. Make it happen then,” she ordered the clerk, who bowed his head further.

“Yes, my lady.”

Wait, I interrupted before she could dismiss us. My lady, this is going to pose a significant risk to me. As I understand it, the Bureau does not wish for it to become general knowledge that I was granted special dispensation to keep my mind, and my seeking out and protecting this human child will look extremely suspicious. I would like a greater assurance than that you will “speak to” the Accountants afterwards.

She regarded me steadily. “What manner of assurance do you seek?”

I want a guarantee that at the end of this life, I will receive enough positive karma to advance to Black Tier.

I wasn’t expecting that to work, so I wasn’t surprised when she raised both eyebrows at Flicker, who shook his head in a mute “No, she’s nowhere close enough to claim clerical error.” To me, she replied in a crisp voice, “That won’t be possible.”

Then I wish a guarantee of positive karma for my efforts.

“That is also impossible, as the system awards karma based on results, not effort.”

I’d known that, but with enough determination (and moral decrepitude), you could change anything. Aurelia, however, wasn’t Cassius.

“I will endeavor to shield you from any consequences in the Bureau of Reincarnation should your actions as a turtle expose your intelligence.”

Not good enough.

I would greatly appreciate that, my lady. But I do not anticipate such exposure earning me negative karma.

Just Glitter’s wrath, which would manifest as assignments as hideous animals. (The Goddess of Life had already moved on to her own department, so unless it hurt her new position, she wouldn’t care what happened in the Bureau of Reincarnation.)

I will do my utmost to protect this human child, but in doing so, I may need to take actions that might cause other humans to come to harm, or to allow them come to harm through my inaction.

Like if Lord Silurus were about to eat Taila and I thrust a different human at him, or if a group of humans got attacked by Lord Silurus and I focused on herding Taila away.

I wish for an assurance that should that happen, I won’t receive any negative karma.

Aurelia thought for a moment, running through her list of contacts and perhaps weighing how many favors she could call in. At last, she said, “That is fair.”

She withdrew a stick of incense from one sleeve and held it out to Flicker, and I realized that she wanted us to swear a formal oath. Darting anxious glances over his shoulders, terrified that someone would smell it and come investigate, Flicker lit the stick. Aurelia extended both hands towards me. Since I had no hands to place between hers, I floated forward and nestled there.

To the Jade Emperor in Heaven and all His gods, I, the lowly Soul Number 11270, do so solemnly swear that I will do what I can to protect the human child Jek Taila. If there is a hint of treachery in my heart, let me come to a bad end.

Tradition held that I should have sworn that I would do “all that was within my power” to protect Taila, but I gambled that Aurelia wouldn’t quibble over the wriggle room, and she didn’t.

“To the Jade Emperor in Heaven and all His gods, I, the humble Star of Reflected Brightness, do so solemnly swear that I will do all that is within my power to ensure that you will not receive any negative karma for actions or inaction undertaken while you are protecting Jek Taila, and that I will endeavor to convince the Accountants to award you positive karma. If there is a hint of treachery in my heart, let Heaven strike me with thunder and ten thousand arrows pierce my flesh.”

I couldn’t help but feel a thrill at the imagery.

Warmth rose where my sides touched her skin and spread through both of us, sealing the oath.

After that, Flicker pinched out the incense stick and returned it to Aurelia, I ducked back into his sleeve, and the two of us got out of there as fast as we could.

But just before we exited the curtain of willow leaves, I flattened myself, zoomed up Flicker’s robe to peek over the back of his collar, and blurted out, She liked red bean paste sticky rice dumplings. I saw her eating one at the Dragon Boat Festival. Got it all over her face.

Aurelia nodded and smiled her serene smile, but after the willow branches swept shut behind us, I thought I heard a sniffle.