The next morning, Enkaku did not get out of bed on time. Under normal circumstances, he would have been out of bed as soon as he heard the servants begin moving around downstairs, so he could be dressed and at the breakfast table in time to avoid a scolding. The "lazy young people of today" speech was one of his least favorites, possibly because it was usually delivered when he was legitimately tired out from something and trying desperately not to fall asleep in his food. Today, though, he had made up his mind to stay in bed for a while.

I was up half the night, after all, he assured himself. Even after he had parted company with Uriya and returned home, he'd been too excited to sleep. He'd sat awake for hours, thinking about all the things he was going to do now that no one could stop him from doing them. Gently, he stroked the warm metal of his new ring, reassuring himself that he really had been given a gift from a god and everything was about to change.

Eventually, a maid appeared in his doorway, looking at him with concern.

"Are you sick, Master Enkaku?" she asked.

"No," he assured her, "but I didn't sleep well. I'd like my breakfast in bed today."

She frowned. "Your father won't..."

Enkaku twisted the ring. "It doesn't matter what he wants. I am my own master, and I say I should get breakfast in bed today - scrambled eggs with mushrooms, bacon, and bread with jam, and tea with plenty of cream and honey."

"Of course, young master," said the maid obediently, and slipped out of the room.

With immense satisfaction, Enkaku settled back against his pillows, congratulating himself for his cleverness.

He was enjoying the best breakfast he'd had in years by the time he heard his father's heavy footsteps coming towards his door. Longstanding habit told him he needed to hide the tray and scramble into some clothes, now, and come up with a good excuse for why he hadn't been at the breakfast table. He squelched the impulse and focused his attentions on smearing jam onto his last piece of toast.

The door to his room flew open with a bang. Enkaku's father stormed in, stamping his feet hard enough to make the windows rattle.

"What are you doing lazing around in bed?" he demanded.

"I didn't sleep well," said Enkaku. "I just wanted to rest a little longer."

"That is unacceptable," his father boomed. "As my son, you have a duty to..."

"I am my own master," Enkaku interrupted, "and I decide what my duty is. I'm not getting up until I'm good and ready."

His father stared at him, face going first pale, then blotchy red.

"Just don't lie there all day," he snapped, and stormed out again.

Enkaku leaned back with a sigh of relief. Gradually, his heart stopped pounding, and his relief grew into a sense of exultation. It had worked! He had actually contradicted his father and his father hadn't shouted him down. That had never happened before.

Well, it's going to happen more often, he told himself. And pretty soon, I'll never have to deal with him again.

Still dwelling on that thought, he poured himself another cup of tea.


At the same moment Enkaku was enjoying his leisurely breakfast, the team at the Cloverleaf was washing up their own breakfast dishes and talking about what to do with the rest of their day. Most of the previous day had been spent bringing Atsushi's new priest up to speed. Fortunately, he caught on fast. Before his accident, Endou had been a foreman on his mining team, so he could read and write fairly well and was used to leading people. Atsushi thought that with Arima guiding him, he'd soon have the hang of his new job. It was taking longer for Atsushi to sort through all of the things that Kinshiro insisted were important for a god to decide. Deciding things like his sacred symbol and chosen colors were easy, but Atsushi had never been very good at setting rules for people more complicated than "Please do not spit on the floor". He had offered to help with the washing up, but the two priests had insisted that it was not necessary. Now he was hanging around the dining area, fidgeting while he waited for something to do. That was why he was the first one to realize that company was coming.

"Hey, Kinshiro," he called. "Come look at this!"

Kinshiro, who had been inspecting the notes he and Atsushi had made yesterday, stood up and joined Atsushi at the window, where he was just in time to see an unusual sight.

There were not any carriages in Binan. For one thing, the town was small enough that most people could walk from one end to the other and back with relative ease. Outside the town limits, the roads became too rough for anything but a sturdy farm wagon. For another thing, Binan was not a wealthy town, and not even the mayor cared to waste the money it would take to buy a carriage he couldn't ride anywhere but up and down the main street. The only carriages Atsushi had ever seen were the ones he'd glimpsed on the rare occasions when he'd ventured into larger cities.

This was definitely a carriage. It was painted deep sapphire blue, carved all over with swirls and curlicues everywhere one might conceivably fit, and those flourishes had been touched up with gilt trim. The metal fittings gleamed as richly as an altar to Sulfur. It was drawn by two perfect coal-black horses, each with a headpiece of blue feathers and ribbons to match the carriage. The whole scene was enough to dazzle Atsushi's eyes, but he wasn't so dazed that he didn't take in the coat of arms painted on the door, which depicted a black bird with a long neck and outstretched wings, silhouetted against a white and gold background.

"Ahh," said Kinshiro, sounding as amused as Atsushi had ever heard him. "Would you look who's here. I wondered if we might be seeing him." Raising his voice, he called, "Arima, get the door! We have a visitor."

Arima came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. He was wearing an apron over his usual black and gold robes.

"You may want to take that off," said Kinshiro, smirking slightly. "We have an important guest."

"Hm?" said Arima,turning towards the window. "Oh! Well, I'll be blessed. I wasn't expecting him to show up in person."

He stripped off the apron and flung it over the back of a chair before hurrying towards the door. Atsushi, curious, went invisible and followed him outside.

He was just in time to see the door to the carriage open, and a slim, foppishly dressed young man flung himself into the street.

"Arima, my dear friend!" the stranger gushed, throwing himself at the startled priest and embracing him enthusiastically. "How good it is to see you again!"

"It's a pleasure to see you too," said Arima. He returned the embrace with what looked like genuine affection, if not quite as much enthusiasm as his companion. "Truly, I didn't expect you to come here at all, much less so quickly."

"I paid a wizard for a swift-travel charm," said the newcomer. "When I knew you needed my help, I couldn't let anything stand in my way."

"We are very grateful for your assistance," said Arima. He managed to disentangle himself from the other man's grip just as Endou came out of the inn to see what all the fuss was about. "My lord, allow me to introduce Endou, high priest of Epinard. Holiness, permit me to introduce you to my old friend, Lord Moteo Kurotori."

Endou, puffed with pride at being addressed so formally, gave a respectful nod to the young lord, who responded with a sweeping bow. Atsushi watched this performance with interest. He noticed that there was no "mister" in sight today - Arima wasn't exercising his right to dispense with noble titles. That implied that this was indeed a friend, or at least someone he had a degree of respect for. Atsushi began to feel a little better about this project. Having a little noble blood on their side was no bad thing. Already, he could see the locals peeking out of their houses to have a look at this flamboyant stranger.

"I am honored to meet any associate of my old friend," said Kurotori to Endou. He turned back to Arima. "Now, what is it I can do for you? Do you need money? Do you want me to bully this mayor person into seeing sense? Just point him out to me, and I'll..."

"We aren't ready to take that step yet," said Arima, deftly cutting Kurotori off and steering him inside the building. "Actually, what you can do for us is a matter of talent. What we need most of all that we can't get in this town is someone with your sense of artistry." Kurotori looked interested. "Oh? Do tell."

"Well, you see this building?" said Arima, gesturing at the public room. "We plan to turn it into a temple. It will have to be enlarged and renovated to make it a fit place of worship for an important god, while still not losing its essential character. This is to be the temple of the god of mercy, so it has to be a place where even the humblest person can feel welcome."

"Ahh, I see, I see!" said Kurotori, eyes shining. "That will indeed be a challenge! You were right to send for me. Don't worry about a thing - I will design the perfect temple for you! Now, the first thing I'm going to need is some paper... and do you know where I could find a measuring tape? I don't suppose you already have a floor plan of the building? No? Well, I'll just have to do it myself..."

Arima dispatched Endou to fetch a tape measure, and then provided his guest with paper and writing implements. Aglow with artistic ecstasy, Kurotori wandered off to start sketching designs. Once he was out of earshot, Atsushi and Kinshiro allowed themselves to flicker back into view again.

"What was that all about?" Atsushi asked.

"That, as you may have gathered, was Lord Moteo Kurotori," said Arima. "He's something of a friend of mine. That is to say, I worked for him briefly, back before I became a priest."

Kinshiro smirked. "What he isn't saying is that Kurotori had a bit of an infatuation with him. I think he still wants to impress you, Arima."

Arima flushed. "I'm sure he's quite over it by now. Anyway, you know my first loyalty is always to you."

"I know," said Kinshiro, but he looked pleased all the same.

"So will he do a good job?" asked Atsushi. "I don't want my inn to end up looking like... you know..." He waved his hand vaguely.

"Like the inside of Akoya's sitting room?" Kinshiro suggested.

"His tastes do tend to be rather ornate," Arima admitted, "but I think I managed to impress on him the need for simplicity. He does have a good eye for design, actually. I've never seen anything to match his gardens, and I've been in the homes of many wealthy and titled people."

Kinshiro nodded. "He's vain and shallow, but he does have Pearlite's blessing. Anything he designs will be attractive, and if it's not appropriate, we'll find some way to talk him out of it."

"And money is no object with him," Arima chimed in. "He has the funds to pay for whatever he designs. I have no doubt he's going to want the very best for this place."

Atsushi looked around the room, feeling mixed emotions. He had been thinking not so very long ago that his old inn was looking somewhat the worse for wear. Part of him was encouraged by the thought that someone was here with the money and incentive to get it fixed up. On the other hand, the thought of changing his home in such a drastic and permanent way unsettled him.

Well, I've changed too. Maybe it's all right if the Cloverleaf changes with me.

That thought made him smile. Put like that, it felt less as if he'd left his home behind forever, and more as though he'd found a way to take it with him.

I guess turning an inn into a temple is the inn equivalent of a man becoming a god. He grinned at the idea.

"I can't wait to see what he comes up with," he said.


Kinshiro sat on a fence, eating an apple and watching the show.

He wouldn't have wanted to say that Arima had made the wrong choice in summoning Kurotori to his aid, but it remained a fact that the man was a bit of a nuisance. As soon as he'd gotten hold of the tape measure he wanted, he'd started going around the inn measuring things, wandering here, there, and everywhere, leaving a trail of sketched-out notes and disarranged furniture in his wake, talking to himself the entire time. The chaos soon became too much to bear. Arima had gone into town to start buying supplies, while Atsushi and his new priest had escaped to Endou's room to work on writing some litanies. Kinshiro, however, hadn't been able to stand being even that close to the whirlwind of activity inside, and had retreated to this more secluded vantage point. Even that hadn't saved him, however. It hadn't been very long before Kurotori had emerged and started making measurements of the grounds.

By now, Kinshiro wasn't the only one watching the show. Apparently, the sight of a magnificently dressed stranger wandering around in the weeds with a tape measure was enough of a spectacle to draw a crowd. Kurotori, never one to turn down an audience, had started recruiting. Now at least half a dozen people were scuttling around with more tape measures, plumb lines, ladders, stakes, and bits of string, taking measurements and marking out boundaries. Kinshiro had to admit, he had seen actual planned performances that weren't half so entertaining.

"They look like they're having fun," a voice above his head remarked.

Kinshiro emitted a highly undignified yelp of surprise. He dropped the remains of his apple, and might have fallen off the fence, if a pair of surprisingly strong arms hadn't clamped themselves around his middle, preventing him from going anywhere at all.

"Hi there!" chirped the owner of the arms. "Are you enjoying your vacation?"

"Um," said Kinshiro, trying to figure out if there was some way of escaping the grip he was in.

Fortunately for him, the person who had accosted him let go, and Kinshiro slid off the fence and onto his feet so he could turn around to face his visitors. Standing on the other side of the fence were Yumoto, still beaming at him, and Gora. Kinshiro backed away a step.

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

Gora raised an eyebrow. "You know, you don't have to apologize every time you see me. I may have punished you once, but that was for a serious reason. I'm not going to do it every time we meet."

"I know," said Kinshiro. "It's just... well..."

Yumoto leaned over the fence, balancing his weight on his hands while his feet waved free in the air.

"What, did you do something wrong or something?"

"No!" said Kinshiro, and then, "Maybe. Yes? I don't know."

Gora gave an amused smile. "Well, that does cover all the options, doesn't it?"

"Don't laugh at me. It isn't funny," Kinshiro snapped, turning away.

Yumoto flipped himself off the fence, rolling into a somersault and bouncing to his feet next to Kinshiro. He gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm.

"It's okay," he said. "You can tell us. I mean, Big Brother probably knows already, so you might as well get it off your chest, right?"

"It's nothing," said Kinshiro. Yumoto continued to regard him with wide, concerned eyes, and he found himself blurting, "It's just that I haven't been attending to my duties lately. I know I should, and I keep meaning to, but somehow..."

Gora burst out laughing. "You're on your honeymoon. No one expects you to be thinking about work right now."

"I know," Kinshiro mumbled. "That isn't it. I mean, it's more than just that."

He found himself groping for words, unable to express a feeling that he'd never had before and didn't know how to cope with. Kinshiro was one of the oldest of the gods, only a little bit younger than Chance and Fate themselves. During his entire existence, he had been devoted to one purpose and one purpose only: maintaining order in the universe, seeing to it that everything followed the laws that he and the rest of the gods had set down, and putting things back into place when they strayed. That was his job, his only reason for existing, and he'd always done it alone. He pre-dated the existence of romance. He had seen the way sexual desire could drive otherwise rational people to extremes, so he had given his followers stern guidelines as to how they were to conduct themselves. He had followed those laws himself. For thousands of years, he had watched the mortal world enjoy their love affairs, watched his own kind pair off with each other, and he had always remained aloof.

Then Gora had decided he needed to strip Kinshiro of all his power and dump him on Earth with nothing more than a few rags of clothing. It had been meant as a punishment, but it had come with a silver lining. Kinshiro had fallen head over heels for a kindhearted innkeeper and nothing had been the same since.

"I don't even know how much I want to do my job anymore," he admitted quietly. "Just look at what I'm doing now. We don't really need to go to all this trouble just for a building. Atsushi could have a temple anywhere - in one of the big cities, maybe, where people would notice him right away, instead of in a tiny little town no one has ever heard of. All I really need to do is punish Mayor Sousa for trying to steal something that isn't his, and that should be that. But I don't seem to care half as much about making sure justice is done as I care about making Atsushi happy. I don't know if I'm ever going to care about anything so much as I care about making Atsushi happy."

Gora began to laugh again. "And you think that's so bad?"

"Yes!" Kinshiro insisted. "I'm supposed to do my job! That's what I exist for."

"You think so, eh?" asked Gora, tilting his head thoughtfully. "That's a pretty big assumption, thinking you know what you exist for."

Kinshiro looked at him, puzzled. "But it is. You created me because you wanted someone to help you put the universe in order."

"Yes and no," said Gora vaguely. "That's one thing you're good for, and you do it pretty well most of the time. But we also made you a person, and people don't exist for just one reason. Well, look at that character." He jerked a thumb at Kurotori, who was busy measuring the distance between the fence and the side of the inn. "What do you suppose he exists for?"

"I don't know," said Kinshiro. It was on his tongue to say that Kurotori seemed pretty useless, as humans went, but he knew better than to say so.

"But you do know about yourself, hm?" Gora retorted. "Well, today, Kurotori exists to help Atsushi get his inn turned into a temple. Another time, he existed to teach Arima a lesson. Sometimes he exists to provide money to hardworking craftsmen, or to dance on a stage and give people a few minutes of enjoyment. Just at the moment, he's providing a little entertainment to the locals. Who knows what he'll exist for tomorrow? Maybe sometimes, what you exist for is to make Atsushi happy."

"I don't understand," Kinshiro admitted.

"That's okay. You don't have to," said Yumoto. "Sometimes it's more fun not to understand everything. Anyway, what did you think we let you have a husband for?"

"I, ah," Kinshiro began, thrown by the change in topic.

"We didn't let you marry him just so you could work all the time and ignore him," Yumoto continued. "What good would that do anybody?"

"I don't..." Kinshiro attempted.

"It would be bad," Yumoto insisted. "Don't you know? Gods aren't good at being unhappy."

Kinshiro made a face. "I don't know about that."

"What my little brother is trying to say," said Gora, "is that it's not healthy for a god to be too unhappy for too long. You've been around long enough to have seen that before, haven't you?"

Kinshiro nodded, sobering a bit at that idea. Yes, he'd seen it happen before. A god who was in too much pain, physical or emotional, might choose to dissolve back into their unconscious state, preferring to exist merely as an abstract concept rather than continue to endure their affliction. It hadn't happened often, and certainly not recently, but in the old days...

"Well, it's true the other way around," Gora went on. "When you're happy and enjoying yourself, it reminds you of why you want to go on existing and helps you hold yourself together. That's why we gave you people a whole city full of delights to help you keep your spirits up. Frankly, as abstemious as you are, I'm amazed you managed to stay sane as long as you did."

Kinshiro noticed the choice of tenses - "did" rather than "have". How close had he been to disaster when Gora had decided to shake up his reality? Too close, he reluctantly concluded. Denying himself all the usual avenues of pleasure, he'd learned to take pleasure in punishing people instead. If it was true what Gora said, that he needed some level of enjoyment just to stay alive, and the only enjoyment he was getting came from hurting people... well, small wonder the greater gods had felt the need to stage an intervention.

Yumoto nodded. "Atsushi loves you. If you ignore him, he'll be sad. If you want to cuddle him and be close to him, you should. It will make you both stronger."

"I think I begin to see," said Kinshiro. "It does make sense, when you put it like that..."

Gora smiled. "Glad to help. I'm just sorry we didn't have more time to talk about these things before your wedding. You did sort of cut out early during the party..."

Kinshiro couldn't help blushing a little. Quickly, he said, "So you think us turning the Cloverleaf into a temple is a good idea? I mean, is this something you planned for us to do?"

"Who knows?" came the unhelpful answer. "I plan a lot of things. Sometimes I plan for them and forget I did."

Kinshiro didn't believe that for a moment. Reluctantly, he accepted that he just wasn't going to get a straight answer about this.

"Anyway," Gora continued, "the bathhouse is still going to be in town for a few more days, in case any of you want to drop by for a soak. I'd like to watch how all this pans out."

Yumoto nodded. "Anyway, if that guy stays here long enough, he's probably going to want to dance, and I'd like to see the show."

"Don't worry," said Gora, affectionately ruffling his brother's hair. "We won't leave until all the fun is over." He glanced briefly at the inn, then back at Kinshiro. "And on that note, I believe your husband is wondering where you wandered off too. Maybe you had better go let him know."

"I'll do that," Kinshiro promised. "Thank you for the advice."

"That's what I'm here for," said Gora lazily. "That and running the baths. Coming with me, Yumoto?"

Yumoto shook his head. "I want to stay here and watch for a while longer."

"All right, then," his brother replied, turning to start back out of town. "Stay out of trouble. Bring us back something good for lunch."

"Yay, lunch!" Yumoto cheered, which Kinshiro took as a "yes". He smiled a little as he waved goodbye to the two of them and started back to the inn.

There's one who never has to worry about fading away from unhappiness, he mused, glancing over his shoulder to where Yumoto was still observing Kurotori's antics with evident amusement. Maybe I have been too hard on myself. If even the lords of the universe take time out to have fun once in a while...

He found Atsushi wandering around upstairs, looking mildly concerned. His expression cleared as he turned around and saw Kinshiro.

"There you went," he said. "Where have you been?"

"Just outside," said Kinshiro. "Gora and Yumoto came by to have a chat."

"Oh?" said Atsushi. "What did they have to say?"

Kinshiro smiled and reached to take his hand. "That I should stop worrying so much and pay more attention to you instead."

Atsushi laughed. "That sounds like good advice to me."

"I thought so too," said Kinshiro, tugging Atsushi to the room they'd been sharing. "So as long as no one needs us for anything..."


For an inn that wasn't open, the Cloverleaf was getting an awful lot of business.

Granted, most of the excitement was going on outside, but that hardly mattered to Atsushi. He was happily in his element, up to his elbows in cooking. When the crowds had started to arrive, he had taken up a station in the kitchen where no one could see him, and immediately set about making food for all the people who had turned up on his lawn. The ones who had initially turned up only to gawp at the flamboyant stranger had gotten roped into the measuring, and then into the staking out of the new temple's boundaries, and finally into doing some initial preparation and repairs. There was quite a crowd out there now, ranging from the curious children and gossipy old-timers to the crew of painters and carpenters who had been drawn in by the double lure of Kurotori's money and the genuine desire to preserve Atsushi's home.

Ordinarily, he would have had trouble keeping up with the tides of people, but it seemed whatever godly force had allowed him to pull ingredients that weren't there from his cupboard also helped in other ways. Everything turned out perfectly, neither burnt nor underdone, in half the time it usually took, and if he put a half dozen hand pies into the oven, a dozen came out. The beer kegs never seemed to run dry, no matter how many drinks were drawn from them. Even the dishes seemed to need only a dunk in the sink to come out clean and sparkling. It made what might have otherwise seemed like a chore actually feel like fun.

At intervals, Arima and Kinshiro dashed in and out of the kitchen to grab another tray of food. Unlike Atsushi, who didn't dare show his face in public at the moment, Kinshiro had been able to resume his mortal disguise as the Cloverleaf's busboy. He explained to anyone who asked that he'd been frightened by seeing his friend killed and had run away, but when he'd gotten the word that someone was trying to steal Atsushi's legacy, he'd come back to help protect it. That had earned him a certain amount of respect from the crowd. No one seemed to think it necessary to ask exactly where he'd gone or how he'd found out what was happening. He and Arima managed to give the impression, without coming out and saying as much, that it had been Arima himself who had tracked him down and given him the news.

Which is partly true, Atsushi mused, as he pulled a pan of fresh bread out of the oven. He set it on the rack to cool and contemplated what to do next. There was still a bit of roast venison left, plenty of small hand pies, two kinds of stew, some roast vegetables, and now bread. That ought, he thought, to be plenty even for this ravenous horde. He could afford to take a quick breather. Making sure that he was invisible to mortals, he slipped out the back door and went to have a look at the festivities.

People certainly did seem to be having a good time. Some of them had brought chairs over; others had brought out old blankets, as if this were a picnic. Nearly everyone had something to eat or drink in front of them, or had the remains of a meal scattered around them. Some of the local musicians had turned up with their instruments, and were making a lively sound. Most of the attention, however, was on Kurotori himself. The carpenters had obliged him by setting up a rough-and-ready stage, and now Kurotori was flitting around in time to the music. The good people of Binan were more accustomed to country dances than with this more rarified style, but it at least had the pleasure of novelty about it, and the audience was being reasonably accepting about the whole thing. A few people, in fact, had clearly never seen anything like him before, and were watching him with utter fascination. When the dancer paused to catch his breath between songs, several of the young women and even one or two of the burly carpenters competed to bring him a drink and compliment him on his performance. Kurotori was obviously loving the attention, and Atsushi thought that perhaps his new friend would get more out of this adventure than just the pleasure of knowing he'd done a good thing.

As Atsushi had that thought, he glanced around curiously, scanning the far edges of the crowd. He was entirely unsurprised to catch a glimpse of Ryuu and Akoya lurking in the shadows of the forest. Ryuu winked and waved at Atsushi before both of them disappeared again. Atsushi grinned.

I'm starting to be really glad I came here. Everything is going so well...

"And just what is going on here?"

The strident voice cut across the hum of conversation and the sound of tuning instruments. Everyone turned to see a young man watching them with an expression that might have been intimidating on a more imposing person. On this weedy young man, it only looked a bit petulant.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Sousa?" asked Arima, striding forward to intercept the threat.

Enkaku Sousa waved a hand at the crowd. "What are all these people doing here?"

"Eating dinner, listening to music, watching the show..." said Arima pleasantly. "You're welcome to join in, if you like."

"Are you feeding them?" Enkaku asked. He made it sound like an accusation.

"It seemed like the charitable thing to do," said Arima.

"Well, you need to stop," said Enkaku. "And for that matter, you need to get him..." He jerked a thumb at Kurotori. "...out of the building."

"I don't see why," said Arima. "He's an old friend of mine, and he isn't causing any trouble. Everyone seems to like having him here."

"Then he can stay with them," said Enkaku firmly. "I know you want to protect your friend's legacy, but the fact remains that in this town, any establishment that offers food or bedding has to have a proper license. You may be a priest, or you may not, but I know you don't have a business license."

"I'm afraid not," Arima admitted, "but..."

"No buts," said Enkaku firmly. "You get all of these people out of here by tomorrow morning, or my father will have you arrested!"

"I see," said Arima, expression going wooden. "I understand. Far be it from me to stray from the letter of the law."

"You had better see to it," said Enkaku, and stalked away with his chin held high. Arima watched him go, looking faintly worried.

"Are we going to have to leave?" someone in the audience asked.

"No, not yet," said Arima. "He gave us until tomorrow morning, so go on with what you're doing. I'm just going to have a talk with my friends inside..."

He started for the inn's back door, with Endou following him. Atsushi took that as his cue and began to follow as well, but Kinshiro pulled him aside.

"Wait," he said. "Over here."

The two of them slipped out of sight around the corner of the inn.

"What's up?" Atsushi asked.

Kinshiro was frowning in the direction Enkaku had gone.

"Doesn't what just happened strike you as awfully peculiar?" he asked.

Atsushi frowned. He had known Enkaku all his life. They had played together sometimes as boys. The Enkaku he knew had been a quiet, downtrodden type, easily shouted over by the other children. He and Atsushi had bonded over a mutual love of books, enforced by Atsushi's natural inclination to look after people who couldn't look after themselves.

"You're right," said Atsushi. "That really wasn't like him at all."

"I thought it seemed odd," said Kinshiro, "but I don't know him as well as you do. What can you tell me about him?"

"Not much," Atsushi admitted. "He's the mayor's only child. His mother is one of those recreational invalids - there's nothing really wrong with her, but she figured out it's easier to look pretty and fragile all the time than to actually do anything, and her husband has the money to indulge her. I get the feeling Enkaku gets pushed around a lot at home. He's always saying he'd like to do this or that, but his father won't let him. He tends to look like he's doing something he's not supposed to and hoping no one will notice, even if all he's doing is going to the store to buy ink."

"I know the type," Kinshiro agreed. "And normally, I would applaud his showing some spine, but this was too rapid a turnaround. The last time we saw him, I got the impression that he didn't even want us to give him the inn, and now he's talking about having poor Arima thrown in jail."

"Which is one threat that's likely to work," Atsushi murmured. Arima might be willing to push a few boundaries, but for a priest of law and order to start breaking laws... he wouldn't do it, no matter what incentive he had, and Kinshiro probably wouldn't either.

"We are in a bit of a bind," Kinshiro agreed. He tapped his chin thoughtfully with one forefinger. "Atsushi, has this friend of yours ever struck you as a particularly clever type?"

"Not really," Atsushi admitted. "He's not stupid, but he isn't what you'd call an innovator."

"And his father," Kinshiro continued. "Is he likely to have put his son up to this?"

Atsushi thought about it. "I don't know. I can imagine him egging his son on to stop us, but I can't imagine him coming up with that plan and not coming down here to carry it out himself. I mean, 'you're under arrest' sounds a lot more forceful coming from the actual mayor."

"You may be right there," Kinshiro agreed. "So the most logical conclusion is that someone else put him up to it."

"But that can't be right," said Atsushi. "Who else has a stake in this? There's just us and them."

"Maybe," said Kinshiro. "And yet I can't fight the sense that something strange is going on. Can't you smell it?"

Atsushi started to say something, realized it was a serious question, and stopped to take a deep breath. What did he smell? Food and beer from the picnickers, smoke from various chimneys, churned earth and trampled grass, the piney scent of the forest, a whiff of jasmine from Kurotori's cologne, and...

"Melons?" he said aloud. "That can't be right. There aren't any melons here. This isn't even the right season for melons."

"That's what I thought I smelled," said Kinshiro grimly. "Atsushi, have you ever noticed the way every god seems to have a certain scent?"

Atsushi nodded. He'd definitely noticed. You couldn't get as close to Kinshiro as he had recently without realizing he had his own distinct scent.

"Well, what you're really sensing is that god's unique power," said Kinshiro. "It isn't really a scent, exactly. You can detect it with any of your senses, if you're paying attention. Scent just seems to be the easiest. It's a very primal sense, scent. You can't detect your own, any more than you can see your own eyes, but..."

"So what's mine, then?" Atsushi asked.

"Fresh cut grass and baking bread," Kinshiro answered promptly.

"I like that," said Atsushi. "For the record, your magic looks and feels like sunlight, and smells like green tea and incense."

"Oh," said Kinshiro. His cheeks colored slightly. "Well, that sounds... rather nice, actually."

"I think it's wonderful," said Atsushi.

Kinshiro coughed. "Yes, well... as I was saying, I think what we're both picking up is the hallmark of another god."

"You think so?" Atsushi asked dubiously.

"It would explain why he's suddenly so confident," said Kinshiro. "Most people would be, if they knew they had a god on their side. If he doesn't know we're here, he'd have no reason to believe anyone here could oppose him."

"But the god would know," said Atsushi slowly. "And he would be smart enough to know you would never break a reasonable law. And obliging people who run inns and restaurants to be licensed is a good law. It means the mayor has the right to shut down a place that isn't clean or serves food that makes people sick."

"So we're up against someone clever and subtle, but probably not very powerful," said Kinshiro thoughtfully. "If it were a major god, I'd remember the scent, but I don't remember off hand who smells like melons. Probably the local crossroads god. I'll have someone look him up and see what I can find out. In the meantime..."

"In the meantime," said Atsushi, "we need to go talk to Arima and Endou and start talking about what we're going to do next."

Kinshiro nodded. "I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with some kind of solution."

"Don't worry," said Atsushi, smiling a little. "I think I already know that. The first thing we're going to need is some paint..."