Atsushi walked slowly down the hallway, trailing his hand along the wall. It was, he thought, good to be home. The Heavenly City might be filled with wonders, but this was where he had grown up. He'd been born in one of the upstairs rooms and spent his childhood playing in the back garden. Some part of him would always feel like this was home.

At the same time, he had never been away from the Cloverleaf before, except for a few hectic days helping his sister get married. His world began and ended in Binan. Now he had experienced a vastly different standard of living, and the old inn didn't fare well by comparison. He'd always thought he'd run a good establishment. He'd kept it clean and in good repair. The roof didn't leak, the furniture was sound, the beds were free of pests, the windows didn't let in any drafts. Atsushi had always believed that all that plus a few homey touches and good food and beer was all any of his guests should need to feel at home. Now he picked his way slowly down the stairs, noticing the way the treads creaked gently, the way some of the boards were splintering, how everything looked just a bit worn and faded.

Maybe I should just let it go...

He finished descending the stairs and found Arima already pottering around in the kitchen. He smiled brilliantly at Atsushi when he saw him.

"Ah, good morning," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

Atsushi blushed slightly. When Kinshiro had first come to the Cloverleaf, he'd been given his own room, several doors down from Atsushi's. Even when they'd started courting each other in earnest, the fact that Arima was also living at the Cloverleaf at the time tended to put a damper on their after hours activities, even if they'd had any energy left at the end of a hard day's work. Now they were married, and even Aurite's strict code of ethics didn't forbid them from sharing a bed. Not a lot of sleeping had been getting done lately.

"Gods don't really need to sleep," Atsushi said, "but we were very comfortable anyway."

"That's good," said Arima pleasantly. If he had any guesses as to why his visitors hadn't been sleeping, he wasn't letting it show on his face. "Tea is almost ready. Do you think Kinshiro will want any?"

Atsushi smiled. "I'm sure he will. He's up on the roof now, going through his morning meditations. He likes to watch the sun rise."

Arima nodded, as if this was exactly the behavior he would have expected from his god.

"I'll make sure there's tea waiting for him when he gets here, then," he said. "Do you think he'll be long?"

"Not long," said Atsushi. "I can start breakfast in the meantime."

"Are gods allowed to make breakfast for people?" Arima asked, looking dubious.

"I do," said Atsushi decisively. "That's part of being a god, isn't it? I get to make my own rules."

"Fair enough," Arima said. "Although I'm afraid I can't offer you much. I wasn't expecting guests, and I haven't been going out much in case someone slips in while I'm gone. The neighbors have been bringing things to the back door, but..."

A shimmer of golden light and a waft of green tea and incense announced Kinshiro's arrival.

"Good morning, Arima," he said. "Hello, Atsushi. Did I miss anything?"

"I was just about to make breakfast," said Atsushi. "How do you feel about pancakes this morning?"

Kinshiro nodded solemnly. "That would be excellent."

"I don't know if we have..." Arima began, but Atsushi was already reaching into a cupboard and pulling out flour and eggs and milk. Arima blinked.

"Now, I know that wasn't there before," he said. He picked up the bottle of maple syrup. "I don't even know what this is."

"They don't grow it around here," said Atsushi. "It's good, though. You'll like it." Arima still looked mildly confused, but he shrugged agreeably and said, "I'll set the table, then."

Within minutes, Atsushi was flipping perfect golden pancakes onto a platter, and the air was full of the scent of sizzling butter and frying sausages. Arima and Kinshiro were sipping tea and conversing about various priestly matters when Atsushi brought the meal out to them.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting," he said, as he settled into his own seat.

"You were faster than I would have been," said Arima. He flashed Atsushi a grateful smile. "That really does smell wonderful. I think divinity has actually improved your cooking, hard as that is to believe."

Atsushi laughed. "I'd be worried if it got worse."

The three of them were still chuckling and trading banter when there came a knock on the door. Arima frowned.

"Now, who could that be?" he wondered, as he reluctantly abandoned his breakfast.

Kinshiro shot a piercing look towards the front door. "I believe it's Mayor Sousa."

Arima sighed. "So much for breakfast."

Atsushi and Kinshiro glanced at each other. Without needing to ask, they both faded out of sight. Kinshiro, more experienced in hiding his presence from mortals, made their share of the breakfast invisible as well. With that taken care of, they followed Arima to the front of the building to watch the show.

Arima opened the door and smiled at his visitor.

"Good morning, Mr. Sousa," he said pleasantly.

Sousa grimaced. As a high priest, Arima was considered the earthly representative of his god, and was therefore outside of any of the usual social structures. Etiquette said that he wasn't required to use formal titles for anyone, even a king, if he didn't want to. Even so, the fact that he was refusing to call his guest "Mayor Sousa" was a put-down and everyone knew it.

"Good morning, holiness," said Sousa, forcing a smile. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Not at all. I was just beginning breakfast," said Arima.

"Ah," said Sousa, recovering himself. "I hope it's not too inadequate. I imagine you must be running a bit low on provisions by now."

Arima smiled his most pious smile. "As a priest of Aurite, I've taken a vow of austerity. I have forsworn all forms of sloth, gluttony, and general wantonness."

"I... see," said Sousa. Judging by his own waistline, it was doubtful that he had taken any such vows. "At any rate, I wanted to talk to you personally about the future of this inn. I think we can both agree that a prominent man like yourself can't stay here forever, and I want to be sure it's properly taken care of before you leave. After all, we can't have this place standing empty and drawing vandals and looters."

"Oh, I quite agree," said Arima. "That's why I won't be leaving until I know for certain that the inn is in good hands."

"I'm glad we see eye to eye about that," said Sousa. "Now, I have a son who is of an age to strike out on his own, and I had thought that he'd be the perfect person to take over the management..."

"No," said Arima.

"No?" Sousa repeated, blinking.

"No," Arima agreed. He said it very politely, and with absolutely no room for argument.

Sousa tried anyway. "I understand being sentimentally attached to the place, given that the proprietor was a friend of yours, but as things stand..."

"It isn't sentimentality," Arima explained. "As I told your son, this place is hallowed ground. It had been declared sacred to the god Epinard, and I can't possibly go against that."

Sousa gave him a long blank look. "There is no such god."

"I assure you there is," said Arima. "It's just that he was recently married to Aurite, which moved him up from being relatively obscure to a power in his own right. He's still getting settled in."

"That," said Sousa, "is the most implausible story I've ever heard."

A steely glint came into Arima's eyes, though his smile never wavered. "I hope you aren't accusing me of lying, Mr. Sousa."

"You can't just make these kinds of claims without backing them up," said the mayor. "For all I know, you could be some sort of charlatan. I've never been to Seven Pillars or seen the priest there. How can I be sure you're the real high priest - much less be sure you're serving an actual god?"

"And how, precisely, would you expect me to prove that?" Arima asked. "I can't simply demand that the gods come down and show themselves."

"I'll tell you what," said Sousa. "I'll give you a week. You prove to me that you are who you say you are, and that this god of yours is important enough to merit giving him a whole building of his own. If you can't do that, I'll have no choice but to forcibly eject you from the premises."

"I see," said Arima slowly. "Well, then. I suppose I had better hurry and finish my breakfast. Good day, Mr. Sousa."

He shut the door firmly in the mayor's face.

"Well," he said to the room in general, "I think that went very well, don't you?"

Atsushi flickered back into view again. "Went well how?"

"I didn't hit him," said Arima.

"He deserved to be hit," said Kinshiro darkly.

Arima turned to look at him. "Do you want me to go after him then?"

Kinshiro shook his head. "As satisfying as that might be, no. we have other matters on our plate at the moment."

"We need to figure out how to prove I'm a god," said Atsushi.

"Not just that you're a god," said Arima. "We have to prove that you're notable enough to be allowed to keep the building."

"So the 'appearing in a blaze of glory' trick is off the table," Kinshiro mused. "After all, the little nature spirit who guards a bed of clover is technically a god, but not many people would be willing to build a temple for her."

"So how do I prove I'm important?" Atsushi asked. "Nobody's ever heard of me."

"We'll just have to change that," said Kinshiro. "Not to mention proving Arima is actually my priest."

"That part wouldn't be so hard," said Arima, sitting back down at the table. "There are plenty of people willing to vouch for me. The problem is that most of them live far enough away from here that any message I sent couldn't possibly get a reply back within the allotted time."

"You leave that to me," said Kinshiro. "Write your messages. I'll give them to some of my attendants, and they'll deliver them directly and return with replies. You can have your proofs within hours."

"I hate to put you to the trouble," Arima murmured.

Kinshiro waved a hand. "That's what I have attendants for. I'm more concerned about making sure Atsushi doesn't lose his inn."

Atsushi looked at him uncertainly. Kinshiro looked so determined, and seeing his expression warmed Atsushi even as it made him wonder if this was really the right thing to do.

"Are you sure it's all right?" he asked. "I mean, it's just a building... I can't even live here anymore."

Kinshiro gave him a long stare.

"Do you want to give it up?" he asked.

"No!" Atsushi blurted.

"All right," said Kinshiro calmly. "Then we keep it. This was your home. It's important to all three of us."

Arima nodded. "I get the impression Enkaku doesn't even want the job. He'd be delighted if we found some way of getting around the whole situation."

Atsushi smiled a little. It made him feel better to have so much solid support.

"All right," he said. "So how do we get people to take me seriously?"

"It would help if you had a priest of your own," said Arima. "I'm happy to do whatever you ask of me, but..."

"You have your own work," Atsushi concluded. He considered. "And I can pick anyone I want?"

"Anyone," Kinshiro agreed. "They don't have to be special or important, so long as they're someone you're comfortable working with." He favored Arima with a smile. "No one thought Arima would amount to anything before I chose him, but he's the finest priest I've ever had."

Arima positively glowed. Atsushi smiled at the reaction.

"Anyway," Kinshiro continued, "there's a kind of instinct we all seem to have when it comes to priests. You'll know when you've found the right one."

"All right. I'll find someone to be my priest, then," said Atsushi. The idea was still slightly intimidating, but if his priest was someone like Arima, he imagined he could get used to it. "What else?"

"Well," said Arima thoughtfully, "you should probably choose some sacred symbols, write up a few rules for your followers, all that sort of clerical thing."

"I can help with that," said Kinshiro. "I talked Akoya through it when it was his turn."

"Some actual followers to tell your rules to wouldn't hurt," Arima added. "And a temple."

"A temple might take some work," Atsushi observed.

"No, it won't," said Kinshiro. "That will be the easy part."

Atsushi looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Look around you," said Kinshiro patiently. "Here we have an empty building, one with plenty of room in it for a sanctuary downstairs and some rooms for priests and initiates upstairs, one Arima is already telling people has been claimed as holy ground. What else were you going to do with an unused inn?"

Atsushi just stared at him. It had never once crossed his mind that this could be an option. After all, temples were supposed to be lofty places, the earthly dwelling places of gods. This was just the Cloverleaf.

Then again, come to think of it, the Cloverleaf had been the dwelling place of gods. Atsushi knew of at least four that had stood under its roof at various times, not counting himself. Maybe that was enough to make it holy.

"If it's that or lose the place," he said at last, "then I say we do it." He looked around at the worn floorboards and sagging shelves. "Maybe we could get someone to fix it up a little?"

"We can hire some workers," said Arima. "Even if I have to go soliciting donations."

"You won't need to," said Kinshiro. "If it comes to that, all money offered at my temples is technically mine. I can use it at my discretion." He gave Atsushi a reassuring smile. "We'll get this place sparkling, one way or another, even if I have to borrow the funds from Sulphur himself."

Atsushi laughed at that. "We'll hope things don't get quite that desperate."

"I'll leave that to you, then," said Arima. "I'll start writing letters, and see about putting out the word to get a repair crew."

"I think I'll start looking for a priest," said Atsushi thoughtfully.

Kinshiro gave him a sidelong look. "You have someone in mind already?"

"I might," Atsushi agreed. "I don't know if he'll do, but..."

"If you feel like he's the right choice, he probably is," said Kinshiro. "Don't choose someone you don't feel good about just because they seem 'priestly'."

Atsushi laughed. "I'm probably on the right track, then. Okay, let's split up for a while and reconvene in a couple of hours."

Everyone agreed to this plan and split up. Arima headed upstairs to start writing his letters, Kinshiro went to start gathering some resources, and Atsushi... well, he hadn't been completely forthcoming about what he was going to do next. He was going to choose a priest, yes, but first he wanted to go back to the Heavenly City for a little while. Not to enjoy himself, though.

No, he was going to ask for a favor.


Uriya sat perched on the roof of the candle-maker's house and wondered if he had just done something stupid. He had wondered that a lot during his long lifetime, but never with such good reason as he had right now. From where he sat, he could see the building that was at the root of his anxiety: the Cloverleaf Inn. He'd actually been sorry when its owner had died and left it standing vacant. Since the death had happened outside the boundaries of his town, he hadn't actually known all the dramatic details for a few hours, and for those hours he'd genuinely grieved. Atsushi had been a good man, and had done good for the community in his small way. The Cloverleaf was a respectable inn and drew tradesmen who might not have visited Binan otherwise. To a city guardian like Uriya, those things were important. If Atsushi's death had been a normal one, Uriya would have done everything in his power to make sure the inn fell to someone who would take proper care of it.

But it hadn't been a normal death, and that was what was making him feel so conflicted. After spending a few miserable hours wondering how he was supposed to deal with the violent death of one of his citizens, he'd gotten a messenger telling him that he needed to come to the Heavenly City at once because Aurite was getting married. Uriya had wanted to shout at him. What did he care if Aurite was getting married? Uriya had his own problems to deal with. But he'd gone anyway, because Aurite was in charge and little gods like Uriya didn't disobey him. He'd gone to the Heavenly City and learned the truth: that the person Aurite was marrying was Atsushi.

What's so special about him? Uriya wondered, picking restlessly at the thatched roof. Atsushi was just a human. He'd been a nice human, as humans went, but the world was full of nice humans. Why one of them should be elevated to the rank of god and then made Aurite's consort into the bargain was a complete mystery. If Aurite wanted to get married, there were plenty of perfectly good gods already in existence. Why did Fate need to make another one? And why did it have to be such an ordinary sort of human who had never in his life done anything interesting?

It isn't that I want the job for myself, Uriya thought. But there are hundreds, maybe thousands, of us crossroads gods and we never get noticed. I've taken care of this city since the day it was founded and he never even noticed I was here. I suppose I could have gone up and introduced myself, but what difference would that have made? He'd have forgotten me as soon as he turned his back on me.

But he had favored Atsushi. He'd made him immortal, married him, entrusted him with the fates of mankind. Well, fine. That was Aurite's prerogative. But Binan was Uriya's town, and Uriya had prior claim on it. It had just been good luck that someone had remembered the existence of a crossroads god at this convenient moment, and better that he had some slender claim on the building as well. Now that Uriya had fulfilled the terms of that bargain, even Aurite would have to admit that the Cloverleaf belonged by rights to Uriya.

If I can't have respect, Uriya told himself, at least I'll have something the great gods want. That will have to be good enough.


Old man Endou sat on the back porch of his sister's house and wondered if he'd lived too long. It was a sad world, he thought, where a burnt-out old codger like him could linger on while a bright young man like Atsushi could be cut off in his prime. Endou missed the Cloverleaf, and not just because the beer at the Mountain's Arms tasted like water. He was almost certain that the bartender there had been adulterating the drinks to stop him from getting drunk so fast. Endou had finally left in disgust, muttering imprecations.

And now... what? He had nowhere to go and nothing to do. His hip and shoulder ached, tokens of the mining accident that had cost him everything. He lived now on his family's sufferance, and he could tell they were getting more than a little tired of dealing with him. If he didn't shape up soon, no doubt they would try to find something else to do with him. He didn't like to think too hard about what that would be.

Nothing but a burden, he told himself. Everyone would be happier if I just fell in the creek and got it over with. The only person who had never treated him like a burden was gone, probably off to a happier afterlife than Endou would ever get. Atsushi had always treated him like a valued customer, even when he was drunk and rowdy and probably not very pleasant company. If I had anything, I'd give it up just to see him again...

He didn't turn around when he heard footsteps approaching. He did, however, look up when someone sat down on the stoop beside him.

"Room for one more?" a familiar voice asked.

Endou sat up and started. "You... you're dead!"

Atsushi smiled. "Well, yes. But that doesn't mean I'm gone."

"Am I dreaming?" Endou asked.

"Who knows?" Atsushi replied with a shrug. "Even if you are, we can still have a nice chat, can't we?"

Endou stared at him for a few seconds more before settling down again.

"Wouldn't be the worst dream I've ever had," he admitted.

"So how have you been doing?" Atsushi asked.

"Terrible," said Endou bluntly. "What did you have to go and die for, anyway? We need you here."

"I know, and I'm sorry," said Atsushi. "It was Fate."

"Fate gives us a raw deal," Endou muttered. "If I ever meet him, I'll punch him in the nose."

Atsushi smiled. "I've met him. If you do happen to meet him, you might change your mind. His nose is a bit high off the ground, for one thing."

"Met Fate, huh? Huh," Endou muttered. He looked at Atsushi thoughtfully. He didn't look particularly like a dream. Dreams tended to have a certain blurriness about them, but Endou could see every individual hair on Atsushi's head, every stitch of embroidery, as clearly as he could see anything else. "So what's it like being dead, then?"

"I think it varies from person to person," Atsushi demurred. "But I'm all right, anyway."

"I'll probably be joining you soon," Endou muttered. "Or at least giving an account of myself to Aurite. Doubt I'll find much favor with him."

"You might be surprised," Atsushi said. He was quiet for a moment, and Endou waited for him to fade away - back into a dream, or into the afterlife, wherever he belonged. Instead, after a while, he said, "You know, it doesn't have to be like that."

Endou turned to stare at him. "Like what?"

"The way you think," Atsushi replied. "You could begin again, have a fresh start. You could still do things with your life that would earn Aurite's approval instead of blame."

"Not bloody likely," Endou muttered. "What am I supposed to do? I can't even walk without a blasted stick to lean on."

"That could change too," said Atsushi quietly.

"Not unless you've turned into a healer after you died," Endou retorted.

"Not exactly, no," said Atsushi, "but there still might be something I can do to help you."

"That'd be something to see," said Endou.

Atsushi didn't reply directly. Instead, he reached beneath his robes - really, what in the world was he wearing? Surely that must be part of a dream - and pulled out a small round bottle. There was some sort of liquid sloshing around inside. Atsushi held it out.

"Share a drink?" he offered.

Endou eyed the bottle dubiously. Whatever was inside, it didn't look like any beer he'd ever seen, nor did it seem to be wine or liquor. It reminded him more of honey than anything else, with an odd, almost metallic shimmer glinting in its depths.

"I've probably had worse stuff," he remarked, and accepted the bottle. The glass felt warm against his palm. With stiff fingers, he managed to pry the stopper out and took a sniff. It smelled like honey, too... and like fresh-baked bread, like good soft earth, like clean sheets that had been drying out in the sun, like ripening apples, like the warm skin of a girl he'd known back when he was hale and strong and felt like he would never die. His eyes widened.

"Are you sure I'm supposed to drink this?" he asked.

Atsushi smiled reassuringly. "Go ahead. It'll do you good."

Endou looked warily down at the bottle. Well, if this really was a dream, drinking it would do him no harm, and if it wasn't a dream... well, if he couldn't trust Atsushi, who could he trust? He took a deep breath, raised the bottle to his lips, and drank.

From his position on the stoop, Atsushi had a perfect vantage point to see what happened next. He watched as the old man's face took on an expression of astonishment. Endou gasped. The bottle slipped from his fingers and rolled across the ground, but Atsushi could see that the liquid inside was gone. That was good. Atsushi had bargained strenuously with the goddess of healing to get that elixir, but when he'd explained what he wanted it for, she'd finally relented. He'd have to pay her back in the future, but for now, it was clear that the potion was doing its job. A drink from that bottle would have brought a man back from the brink of death. It was more than up to the job of repairing a few badly-set bones and cleaning up the damage done by too much alcohol and not enough real food and exercise. Atsushi could see the lines of pain and weariness fade away from his old friend's face.

"Fate's axe," Endou swore reverently. "What was in that stuff?"

Atsushi just smiled. "Try standing up."

The old man gave Atsushi a doubtful look, but he slowly stood up, still leaning heavily on his cane. He wasn't such an old man, Atsushi realized - probably not much more than fifty-five or sixty. Years of hard living had lined his face and whitened his hair, but he'd probably live another twenty or thirty years, provided he didn't do anything to undo the work of that elixir. Now Atsushi watched with genuine pleasure as Endou let his cane fall to the ground. He stamped the ground a few times with his bad leg. He jumped up and down, raised his arms above his head, tried running a few yards. He stared at Atsushi in utter astonishment.

"There's no pain," he said.

"No, and there won't be, unless you injure yourself again," said Atsushi.

"And this is real," said Endou slowly. "I'm not just drunk, or dreaming, or having some sort of fever hallucination?"

"It's all real," Atsushi assured him.

Endou regarded him with narrowed eyes. "How?"

"Sit down and I'll tell you," Atsushi replied.

Endou did not look like he wanted to sit down - not that Atsushi could blame him, since he hadn't been able to stand properly in years - but in the end, he settled himself beside Atsushi on the step.

"You see," Atsushi began, "it all started when I was on my way home from doing the shopping. There was that big storm - do you remember? - and I was looking for someplace to get out of the rain for a minute..."

He went on explaining - somewhat circumspectly at first, but getting more detailed as Endou plied him with questions. He was especially interested in the part where Atsushi explained his own death and subsequent resurrection.

"So you're a god now?" Endou asked.

Atsushi nodded. "That's the long and short of it."

"Good," said Endou. "It's about time they got someone with some sense in charge."

Atsushi laughed. "I don't know about that, but I'm doing my best."

"Well, you've done me a world of good," said Endou. "Just look at me! I'm walking better than I did even before the collapse. I could get a job again. I can live on my own again. Vesta's candles, I might even be able to find myself a wife."

"I'm sure if I ask him, he'll look for one for you," said Atsushi. "But right now, there's something I want you to do for me."

Endou looked at him seriously. "You saved my life. I owe you more than I can pay. Name it, and I'll make it happen."

"Well, I'm still pretty new at this god stuff," said Atsushi. "I don't have a temple or any worshipers or anything. I need a priest to start telling people things for me. I want you to be my new high priest, and help other people find second chances just like you have."

"I don't know about that," said Endou, frowning. "I'm just an old miner. I don't know anything about this priest business."

"It's okay. I don't know very much about my job yet, either," said Atsushi. "Don't worry about it. Mostly I'll be telling you what needs doing, so you won't have to think about it too much. Anyway, Kinshiro - Aurite to you - and his high priest are back at the inn right now. We'll all help you until you get the hang of it."

Endou seemed to think about it.

"Are priests allowed to get married?" he asked.

"Mine are," said Atsushi decisively.

"Good enough for me," said Endou, rising briskly to his feet. "Just let me tell my sister. She'll swallow her teeth when she hears about this."

"Don't tell her who I am," said Atsushi. "You were summoned by the god Epinard. That's all anyone else needs to know."

"That's probably all the surprise she can handle anyway," Endou agreed. "Even if she doesn't believe me, she'll be glad to have me out of the house."

"You can promise her that much," said Atsushi. "You have a home waiting for you at the Cloverleaf."

And this, Atsushi thought with satisfaction, is the first step in making sure you can stay there.