"...and they actually listened to me!" Enkaku exulted.

Uriya nodded solemnly. Enkaku had already told him at least three times that they actually listened to him, but Uriya gathered that this was something that happened seldom enough that it was worth repeating.

"They'll be gone by tomorrow," Enkaku continued. "That was a great idea you had, the bit about the license. How did you think of it?"

"Oh, well, I've been keeping an eye on things over there," said Uriya uneasily. He had been keeping a very close eye, in fact. Close enough to know that there were two gods in residence, and that both of them had their high priests with them now. Close enough to know that their wealthy friend was actually nobility, and could probably overrule any order the mayor decided to issue if it came down to that. Close enough to know that Aurite's messengers had been coming and going a great deal, sending out pleas for help to who knew how many people. None of these were details that Uriya had felt like sharing with his new companion.

Maybe I ought to tell him? he thought, as Enkaku continued to ramble on. The two of them were alone for the time being, Uriya perched on the edge of his well while Enkaku relaxed against a tree nearby. He was so excited that he was picking up fallen leaves and shredding them without apparently realizing what he was doing. He might be safer if he knew... but he's already committed now. Will it make any difference if he knows what he's up against? Maybe it will be okay if I just keep advising him. Or maybe there's still another option? It isn't against the rules to ask for a different price. But if I change my mind now, Aurite is still just going to take whatever he wants...

"I have an idea," said Enkaku, bouncing to his feet. He shed little bits of torn leaf everywhere. "Let's go get drinks!"

Uriya's worries immediately switched onto a new path. On the one hand, he hadn't had anyone give him a mortal drink in years, not since the days when he had been worshiped as the local protector god. He'd have liked to have a beer or two. It wasn't like he could actually get drunk unless he wanted to. On the other hand, it would mean letting himself be seen in public. He'd have to pretend to be mortal. What if he did it wrong and people started gossiping? What if word got back to Aurite? What if Aurite actually saw him and recognized him? What if Enkaku was so exhilarated by his perceived victory that he insisted on dragging Uriya by the Cloverleaf to admire it? What if...

Too late. Enkaku had already grabbed him and started pulling him to his feet.

"Hold on, hold on!" Uriya protested. "Let me put on a human disguise first. You don't want people to see you talking to air."

Enkaku admitted that this was probably a good idea. Even with his newfound confidence, there were obviously limits to what he wanted to attempt in public. Uriya hastily pulled a human disguise around himself, discarding his green robes for the loose shirt and embroidered vest that the locals favored. No one would mistake him for a local - not in a town so small that everyone knew everyone down to how often they turned over in their beds at night - but they would at least not immediately peg him as an outsider and worthy of suspicion.

"If anyone asks," said Uriya, "I'm a nephew of the mayor of one of the neighboring towns, and your father invited me to visit you."

"Got it," said Enkaku. "You sure wouldn't be the worst person he's tried to set me up with."

They went to the Mountain's Arms. It was particularly quiet that night - nearly everyone who wanted a drink had heard there was free beer at the Cloverleaf - so Enkaku and Uriya had no trouble finding a place to sit. Enkaku swaggered up to the bar and ordered drinks for both of them, in such a loud and over-cheerful manner that Uriya wondered if Enkaku had ever actually ordered drinks in his life.

His father probably would tell him it's setting a bad example, Uriya mused. He had seen enough of the way the town worked to have a pretty good handle on how Mayor Sousa operated. Alcohol, he had no doubt, was considered a vice, a contributor to sloth and slovenliness. The fact that the mayor himself liked a couple of glasses of wine with dinner and frequently a nip of something stronger afterwards would be brushed aside.

Still, it was nice to sit down with someone who was almost a friend and share a drink. Enkaku was in the mood to talk, fantasizing about what he would do when his debt was paid and he could finally leave town. He wanted to see the world, he said - the great University, the markets of the Golden City, the legendary Seven Pillars, the bridges of Cerulean Bay... Uriya could sympathize. He hadn't been outside Binan in years. He barely knew what lay outside his borders. As a god, he could ascend to the Heavenly City whenever he wanted to, or descend to the various underworlds if he were invited, but he couldn't travel horizontally through the earthly realms without special permission from a greater god. Needless to say, that didn't happen often.

"I didn't used to be stuck here," he mumbled into his mug. "I used to be a nature spirit, you know that? Had a nice little spring all my own. Then some guy came up here hunting and got lost, and I was the guy who decided to show him where to find water and food. He built a home here. He founded this town, and it was all to thank me. Now where am I? Nobody even remembers I'm here..."

He trailed off, realizing that perhaps no one was listening to him. It also occurred to him that while at first his companion had been growing steadily louder and more expansive with every drink he downed, he had now gone rather quiet.

"Hey," said Uriya, looking at Enkaku with concern. "You still there?"

Enkaku gave him a long slow look.

"Where's the cups?" he asked.

"What?"

Enkaku waved his arm vaguely. "The cups. There used to be cups. On the wall."

For a moment, Uriya wondered if there was something he had missed - possibly something strange in the beer. Then realization clicked.

"This isn't the Cloverleaf," he said patiently. "We're at the Mountain's Arms."

He waved an arm to indicate the rest of the room, as if Enkaku might have missed it. The wall behind the bar at the Cloverleaf was adorned with shelves full of mugs, plus a few bottles of wine and more exotic spirits for the discriminating customer. The Mountain's Arms, on the other hand, had a rather inexpertly painted mural of a bear standing in front of a mountain with its paws outstretched. Enkaku kept staring at it like it was some kind of trick.

"I never unnerstood why they called it the Mountain's Arms," he said, slightly slurred. "It's a bear. Oughta call it Bear's Arms. Paws. Feet?"

Uriya gently pried the half-empty mug out of Enkaku's hand. "I think you've had enough for one night."

"Enough of what?" asked Enkaku.

"Just pay the nice man so we can go home," said Uriya.

Between the two of them, they managed to get Enkaku's purse open and count out enough coins to pay their tab. Then Uriya helped Enkaku lean against him and stagger out of the bar into the cool night.

"The irony," said Uriya, as they picked their way through the empty street, "is that I technically could have you sober in an instant, if you were willing to pay me for it. But I'm not actually allowed to make bargains with someone too drunk to know what he's offering, so that's off the table. Maybe one of us should have thought of that before we started drinking."

Enkaku tried to twist himself around so that he could look at Uriya's face. The movement nearly made him overbalance and fall, but he didn't seem to notice.

"You have really pretty eyes," he said. "Can I pet your hair?"

"Maybe later," said Uriya with a sigh.

Enkaku leaned against him and closed his eyes. "You're so nice. You're my best friend. You're so nice to me..."

He trailed off into indistinct mumbling. Uriya sighed again. It occurred to him to wonder just how honest this man was being. Yes, drunken men did occasionally turn sentimental and over-friendly, but that didn't mean this particular one wasn't telling the truth. Surely anyone who had actual friends would want to go celebrate with them, rather than someone he'd only just met, wouldn't he? What did it mean that the only person he could find to brag about his victories to was Uriya? And while he was asking himself questions, how long had it been since anyone considered Uriya his friend? He got on reasonably well with his fellow minor gods, but none of them were particularly close to him. He had always contented himself with simply being near the inhabitants of Binan, even if he didn't interact with them. Maybe it was time he changed that policy...

In a tight voice, Enkaku said, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Uriya had just enough time to haul Enkaku to the side of the road before suspicion became certainty. Uriya stood by patiently, holding Enkaku steady while he aired his grievances.

Best friend, huh? Uriya thought. Oh, well. I suppose I could do worse.

Eventually, Enkaku straightened up and wiped his mouth clumsily on one sleeve.

"Ugh," he said. "Can we go home now?"

"Yeah, we can," Uriya assured him. "Just a little further. I'll get you there."

As they stumbled away again, Uriya waved a hand and made the mess by the side of the road vanish. His bag of tricks might be severely limited, but what was the point of being a town guardian if you couldn't look after your town a little?

Soon they were drawing near to Enkaku's home, and Uriya found himself with a whole new problem: namely, how to actually get Enkaku inside. He could just drop him off on the doorstep and trust him to get himself to his room, but that was risky. In the state the young man was in now, Uriya didn't trust him not to wander off in a daze, or just collapse on the doorstep to be found and ridiculed in the morning. They could try to sneak in, but that would almost inevitably lead to them getting caught, and Uriya didn't care to be treated like a burglar or any of the other things he might be called if they saw him trying to get into an incapacitated young man's room. He could knock on the door and get someone else to take Enkaku in hand, but that would lead to Enkaku getting lectured and probably confined to his room until he was fifty, not to mention subjecting Uriya to questions he probably couldn't answer.

It fleetingly occurred to him that maybe he should have just taken Enkaku to the Cloverleaf. Whatever else was going on, Uriya was sure that Atsushi would make sure he was safely tucked into bed and watched over, and that there was someone to explain to his father in the morning.

And that would be a rotten way to treat a friend.

Seized by an impulse that he was certain he was going to regret, Uriya hauled Enkaku the last few yards up to the front of the mayor's house, deposited him on the foot of the stairs, and pounded on the door. He'd just had time to ask himself why he'd done such a stupid thing when the door was jerked open by a large frowning man.

"What is that infernal noise?" Mayor Sousa demanded.

Enkaku, swaying gently on the bottom step, looked up at his father.

"Hi, Dad," he said. "Boy, you're tall."

Mayor Sousa turned his attention to Uriya. "What is the meaning of this?"

"He's had too much to drink," said Uriya. "I'm sorry. It was my fault. I was buying the drinks, and I didn't realize he'd gotten this far. I thought it only right to make sure he got home safely."

"That was extremely irresponsible behavior," the mayor boomed. "I should..."

"Yes, I agree," said Uriya, talking over him, "but in the meantime, I really think your son should be inside."

Both of them turned to look at Enkaku. He had lost interest in the conversation and was now sitting on the steps, looking up at the sky and singing to himself. Uriya was a bit surprised. Enkaku had seemed rather sheltered to have learned lyrics like that.

"We'll take care of him," said Mayor Sousa.

He seized his son by one arm and more or less carried him into the house. He slammed the door behind him. Uriya waited a moment, just in case anyone looked out to say a final word to him. When no one did, he went invisible and walked straight through the wall. He knew his way around the mayoral household reasonably well. This particular building had been home to generations of mayors, and Uriya had explored it more than once. Now he walked confidently up the stairs towards the main living quarters. From there, it was easy enough to follow the sound of voices to Enkaku's room.

From the sound of things, a servant was trying to get Enkaku out of his day clothes and into his nightgown with minimal cooperation from him, while Mayor Sousa attempted to lecture someone who wouldn't gratify him by listening. Under other circumstances, it might have been funny. As it was, Uriya just found a wall to lean against and waited for it all to be over. Eventually, the mayor stalked out in a huff, the servant departed with an armload of beer-scented clothes, and everything became quiet. Uriya slipped through the closed door and let himself phase back into view again. Enkaku was lying in his bed, apparently already out cold.

"They didn't even set anyone to watch you," said Uriya indignantly. "That's not safe."

Enkaku mumbled something unintelligible. Uriya decided to take it as agreement.

"It's okay," he said, pulling up a chair. "I'll watch you tonight. It's the least I can do after getting you into all this trouble."

Enkaku mumbled something else, and this time Uriya thought he caught his name somewhere in the gibberish. Enkaku's hand waved vaguely above the blankets.

"Hey, simmer down!" Uriya warned him. "You're going to have your dad back in here if you make noise."

He grabbed Enkaku's hand and tried to settle him. Immediately, Enkaku became calm and still. Uriya sighed with relief, but when he tried to pull away, the hand gripping his tightened, and Enkaku made a distressed little noise.

"Well, all right," said Uriya. He settled back in his chair and tried to make himself comfortable. "But I want you to know this is beneath my dignity as a god. You're lucky I'm giving you this as a freebie. I'd be within my rights to make you pay for it."

Enkaku gave a contented little murmur and settled into a deeper sleep. Uriya sighed again. He beckoned to a book on the nearby shelf, and it jumped obediently into his hand. He settled it in his lap and used his free hand to open it to the first page, and resigned himself to a long night.


The next morning was a busy one. Everyone had awakened early, even Kurotori, although he had been dispatched almost immediately after breakfast, sent off to the Kurotama to get him out from underfoot. Everyone else had occupied themselves with cleaning and making repairs since sunrise. Even Kinshiro pitched in with the scrubbing and polishing. Atsushi had kept himself out of sight most of the morning, either working in the kitchen or moving invisibly among his flock of helpers, easing the work and quietly soothing tempers. Everyone was in a hurry, wanting to get as much done as possible.

At the moment, the front door was open, and Arima was busy with a broom, sweeping the dust and debris that the carpenters had generated out into the street. He was humming contentedly, happy with his lot, when he heard a familiar voice in his mind tell him, Brace yourself - company's coming.

It was, he reflected, very convenient at times to have a direct connection to a god. He arranged himself a bit more squarely in front of the door to block any unwelcome guests.

His caution proved valuable when Mayor Sousa swaggered up. He glared at Arima, who smiled his usual vague smile in return.

"Good morning," he said. "May I help you?"

"You can explain why you're still here," the mayor snapped. "My son assured me that you'd be out of here by this morning."

"I'm afraid not," said Arima pleasantly.

"If you aren't out of here before noon," Sousa replied, "I'll be back here with the town watch to haul you to jail."

Arima feigned surprise. "Really? On what grounds? I wasn't aware I was breaking any laws."

"The law against operating an inn without a license!" Sousa snapped. "My son assured me that he'd informed you..."

"Ahh," said Arima, nodding sagely, "I think I see the source of the misunderstanding. I was under the impression that I would have to leave by this morning only if I were operating an inn without a license, as you say. I did not take it to mean that I was to be gone by this morning regardless of the circumstances."

"That is entirely irrelevant," said Sousa, his ruddy face growing redder. "There are no other circumstances. You're operating an inn, and you don't have a license. Therefore, it's my duty to the town to have you arrested."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," said Arima pleasantly. "I'm not operating an inn."

Sousa blinked at him. "What?"

"Technically, I'm not operating anything at all," Arima continued. "I'm here simply to help. If you want the man in charge, you'll have to speak to someone else. Also, this isn't an inn."

Now the mayor was gaping at him. "I beg your pardon?"

In reply, Arima pointed above their heads, to where the signboard was swinging gently in the breeze. It had just been re-hung that morning, and its fresh paint glistened in the sun. The four-leaf clover that had originally been there had been touched up by Kurotori's delicate hand, but now the text was different. Where the sign had once read "Cloverleaf Inn" across the top and "Beer - Food - Rooms" across the bottom, the sign now read "Temple of Epinard: All Are Welcome". The mayor stared at it.

"What is this all about?" he demanded.

"I told you once before," said Arima, in his most reasonable tones. "This site is sacred to the god Epinard. Now, I may be unfamiliar with local regulations, but I have never yet heard of a place where one needed a license to worship the gods."

"Yes... but... this isn't a real temple!" Sousa shouted. "It's just the Cloverleaf Inn with a new sign."

"Yes," said Arima. "We had to change the sign. It would be misleading otherwise, letting people think that this was still an inn when it's not. Everyone was so fond of the place."

"You were serving food," Sousa pointed out. "Everyone saw you."

Aurite shrugged. "Epinard is the god of mercy. If he sees fit to assuage the hunger of his people, who are we to argue? It wasn't as if we charged money for any of it."

"But this can't be a temple!" Sousa insisted. "To be a temple you need priests and altars and services and things! And don't tell me you're a priest," he added, shaking a finger at Arima. "You may or may not be a priest of Aurite, but you can't be that and a priest of this other person."

"Goodness, no," said Arima, in his most scandalized tones. "I am unwavering in my devotion to Aurite. As I said, I don't pretend to be in charge here. It's Priest Endou who is the authority. Would you like to speak to him?"

"Endou?" Sousa repeated. "That old drunk? Look, if you're going to lie, make it convincing. He can't be a priest. He can barely stand up."

"I think you'll find that the gods can work incredible changes in a man," said Arima. "His becoming Epinard's high priest has endowed him with certain blessings, sobriety apparently being one of them. Also, we've been converting him to the appreciation of good tea. Did you know," he went on conversationally, "that before he came here, he'd never had a decent cup of tea? That sister he lives with only buys last year's stale fannings, and then she tries to make them last longer by using half as much as she should and making up for it by steeping them twice as long, and the gods only know what temperature she was heating the water to. As soon as Epinard explained that to me, I fixed the poor man a nice strong cup of good quality black tea with a dash of cream and honey, and he didn't even recognize it as the same drink."

Sousa took in this stream of gossipy chatter with a slightly stunned expression. Arima continued to smile. He hadn't known that particular scrap of gossip until last night, when Atsushi had told him. Being an innkeeper was nearly as good as being a god when it came to finding out everything about people, at least on a local level. Apparently Sousa didn't think someone he still classified as a stranger should know so much about local goings-on.

"I don't believe a word of this," Sousa said at last.

Arima shook his head sadly. "The ways of the gods are often mysterious. You must have faith. Perhaps you'd like to attend services later?"

"Services?" Sousa repeated, eyes popping.

"Oh, yes," said Arima. "We're going to have a service at seven bells this evening, with litanies and music and everything. I'm sure it will be enlightening."

"A service," said Sousa again, his tone tinged with doubt.

"I'm looking forward to it," said Arima pleasantly. "It's been some time since I've simply been able to listen to a service without having to participate."

"You," said Sousa, "are all crazy. I don't know what kind of stunt you're trying to pull, but when I figure it out, you're going to regret it."

"Should I take it, then, that for the moment, I am not under arrest?" Arima asked.

"Oh... go to the Abyss!" Sousa snapped, and turned to stomp away.

Arima only smiled. "That, I believe, is for Aurite to decide."

Sousa only harrumphed and walked faster. Arima watched him go, feeling accomplished.

A warm puff of air scented with green tea and incense swirled around him, announcing Aruite's presence. Arima turned to face him.

"You aren't planning on sending me to the Abyss any time soon, are you?" he asked.

"Not hardly," said Aurite with fervor. "I plan on keeping you close at hand for a long, long time - in part because I enjoy watching how you handle windbags like him."

"It is one of the more satisfying parts of the job," Arima agreed. "I'm glad you approve."

"You're doing a flawless job," said Aurite. "Keep up the good work. In the meantime," he continued, "I'm going to the back yard to help with the carpentry."

He vanished in a swirl of golden light. Arima set back to his work with a sense of contentment. He could hardly feel put-upon doing such a humble task as sweeping the floor when he knew Aurite was in the back yard helping haul lumber and move wheelbarrows of earth. And while he was working, he could amuse himself of thoughts of what might happen if anyone from the mayor's office came to tonight's service.


The sun was far brighter than it should have been. Enkaku's window was north-facing, and screened by thick curtains. There was no possible way that the sun should have been doing what it was, which was blazing into his face as if it were pressed against his window.

"Ngh," he said, and tried to raise an arm to shield his face. His head hurt. His stomach wasn't feeling so great either. Even with his eyes mercifully free from the sunbeams that had been stabbing into them, they still ached. At the moment, he wasn't sure there was any part of him that didn't ache.

"Let me guess," said a detached voice, near enough to make him wince with fresh pain, "you have a hangover."

"Argh," he agreed.

"See, this is why I don't usually go around giving humans the power to get anything they ask for. They usually ask for things that are bad for them."

"Eurgh."

"And I suppose you want it to go away."

"Ugh," said Enkaku, and tried to bury himself under the blankets.

"I can make it stop if you promise me something to eat in exchange."

The thought of even someone else eating anything made Enkaku's insides twist. He whimpered slightly and hoped that would be enough.

"All right, then," said the voice. "Brace yourself."

Someone took his hand and squeezed it, and Enkaku felt a sensation as if something was being forcefully drawn out of him, starting at the crown of his head and soles of his feet, gathering in his middle, and then passing out through his palm. His stomach gave such a violent heave that he thought for certain that he was about to be sick. Then, just as suddenly, everything settled. His headache dissipated as if it had never been there at all. Cautiously, he lowered his arm and opened his eyes. The sun, it seemed, had retreated to its proper place, and his room was pleasantly dim as usual.

"Feeling better now?" asked the voice next to him.

Enkaku rolled onto his side and saw with some surprise that Uriya was sitting in his desk chair. A little end table was pulled up next to him, and a stack of Enkaku's favorite books was resting on it. Another book sat open in Uriya's lap, with his finger resting in the crease to mark his place. Enkaku blinked.

"Were you sitting there all night?" he asked.

Uriya blushed. "Well, you'd passed out. Someone had to keep an eye on you."

"How come you didn't just fix me then?" Enkaku asked.

"Because I can't give you anything like that without you asking for it," Uriya explained. "Or at least, without you agreeing to pay for it. Nothing that takes magic, I mean. There's nothing in the rules that says I can't stay the night in someone's room if I feel like it, but actually sobering you up again takes power, and you'd have had to pay me. I don't think it's allowed for me to make bargains with people who aren't sober enough to know what they're asking for. I mean, I guess I could have done it first and arranged payment after, but I'm not sure that would be very fair either. I guess I could argue that obviously you'd want to be healed, but maybe you wouldn't have wanted it enough to want to pay for it. Even if I don't ask for very much for something small like that..."

"It's okay, really," said Enkaku, heading off the flow of confused chatter. "I don't mind if you want to fix me when I'm sick or hurt. I can afford to pay things."

Uriya looked uncomfortable. "It's not always that easy. Look, how about I get us both something to eat, and we can talk about it after that?"

Enkaku agreed that this was a good idea, so Uriya vanished, leaving the book he'd been reading to drop into his vacated seat. Enkaku set about pulling himself into a seated position. He wondered if he ought to change his clothes. Someone, he saw, had gotten him out of yesterday's clothes and into his nightgown. He truly hoped it hadn't been Uriya. He didn't mind being looked after a little bit, but some things were just too much. Just being seen in his nightclothes was bad enough. Uriya always looked so polished with his sleek hair and elegant green robes.

What was I saying last night, anyway? Was I flirting with him? Vesta help me, I think I was...

He shook his head vigorously, trying to get that thought out of his mind. He'd been drunk, after all. Surely someone who had been around as long as Uriya had would have heard people saying all sorts of things while under the influence. He probably wouldn't attach much importance to anything Enkaku had said.

He is awfully good-looking, though. Too bad.

Uriya reappeared, carrying two trays of food. Enkaku was gratified to see that he'd remembered the mushrooms.

"Don't worry," said Uriya. "I put it into the mind of the maid that she already brought you up a tray. Nobody will think to come in and bother us for a while. They might wonder where the extra food went, though. Maybe I should make the cook think there was an accident and they had to make up a second tray..."

"Don't worry about it," said Enkaku, before Uriya could start twisting himself into mental knots again. "A lot goes to waste around here anyway. They probably won't notice."

"Ahh," said Uriya. "Someone should put that right. It's not good for anyone to waste things. Maybe I ought to do something about it. Or drop a line to Sulfur and let him deal with it."

"So what were you saying about paying for things?" asked Enkaku, to get Uriya back on track. He forked up some eggs and mushrooms and began eating with a will. He sighed with contentment.

"Oh, right," said Uriya. He set the book he'd been reading aside, carefully juggling his own tray of food, and settled back into his seat. "Well, it has to do with the way gods work. Have you ever thought about what gods really are?"

"Not really," said Enkaku. "I guess I always thought they were like really powerful wizards - like people, but with a lot of extra magic."

"Well, it's not quite like that," said Uriya. "It's more like we're the embodiments of ideas. Some of us embody big ideas, like the idea of rain or justice or springtime. Those are the really big important gods, the ones with a lot of worshipers. They get power from their followers' prayers and offerings. Even people who don't actually worship them still think about the things they represent, and that gives them power too. Gods like me, though, the crossroads gods and nature spirits, we're just small ideas. Most of us don't have a lot of power or any worshipers, so we have to make do with what we've got. That's why we make bargains instead."

"They say," said Enkaku slowly, "that a crossroad god could give you the whole world if you gave them something as valuable as the world in return."

Uriya nodded. "That's it - an equal exchange. And it has to be something we consider worth it. You wouldn't believe the number of people who come to a crossroads god and say 'hey, I'll give you this beautiful virgin if you'll give me the kingdom' only to get told 'I'll only do that if you bring me five pounds of emeralds, a flask of water from Pearlite's sacred spring, and a tooth from a still-living dragon'. People are always looking for ways to cheat us, but what they don't understand is that it will never work because we only have as much power as they give us. We couldn't cheat the system even if we wanted to, not unless we get important enough to have worshipers of our own."

"Is that why you wanted the inn?" Enkaku asked. "So you could have a temple of your own?"

"Something like that," said Uriya.

"Well, I don't think that's such a bad thing," said Enkaku. "I hate it when everyone ignores me. It's got to be tough, being all alone with no one to notice you."

"It's not the best," Uriya admitted. "I don't even have any attendants to keep me company."

"I guess not many people want to spend the rest of eternity being a servant," said Enkaku.

"It isn't always like that," said Uriya. "It really kind of depends on what sort of god you're working for. Aurite's attendants mostly act as clerks and errand runners, but his people generally like hard work so I guess that's okay. But Pearlite treats his like family - they spend most of their time sitting around gossiping and doing embroidery and braiding each other's hair. To tell the truth, attendants to crossroads gods don't usually do a lot of work because we really don't have anything we need them to do. Mostly, when we have attendants, it's because they were someone we were friends with when they were alive. Sometimes they even get married - the gods to the attendants, I mean."

"Oh," said Enkaku. He tried not to blush. He had been working under the assumption that gods and mortals didn't really mix - not to that extent, anyway. "I didn't know that was, um, allowed."

Uriya shrugged. "It doesn't happen often, but it happens. I mean, Vesta used to do some serious running around before he got married and settled down. Even Aurite..." he trailed off. Enkaku sat up a little straighter, suddenly interested.

"What about him?" he asked. The last he'd heard, Aurite was still abiding by his own strict no-sex-before-marriage rules.

"I don't know if I ought to tell you this," said Uriya, squirming in his seat, "but I guess it's going to come out eventually anyway. Aurite got married a couple of weeks ago, to someone who started out as human before he ascended to godhood. I think they're keeping it quiet for now because they don't want a lot of people pestering them while they're on their honeymoon."

"Wow," said Enkaku, impressed. He wondered what sort of a person would have attracted someone as notoriously aloof as Aurite.

Uriya nodded. "Anyway, a lot of people seem to prefer being attendants to being in one of the underworlds. Even in the Land of the Blessed Dead, nothing ever really happens. Every day is pretty much like every other day. At least in the Heavenly City, we're in touch with the mortal world still. It's more interesting, and people seem to like being able to work to make the world better even after they've left it."

"I can understand that," said Enkaku. "I might like that better, too."

Uriya gave a half-smile. "Are you saying you want to be my attendant?"

"Maybe," said Enkaku. He smiled back. "Tell you what - how's this for a bargain? If gods really do get stronger from being worshiped, then I promise that if I ever manage to get out of this town and away from my parents, I'll make sure to thank you for it every day and leave an offering at every shrine I come to, and I'll tell people it was thanks to you that I got out."

"If you do that," said Uriya seriously, "then I promise I'll be the one to claim you when your time comes."

They shook on it, very solemnly. Then Enkaku smiled.

"You know," he said, "I really believe this is going to work. I really am going to get out of here soon."

Uriya didn't smile. His expression was very serious as he said, "You're right. You are going to make it. I'll see to it, no matter what it takes."