Shadow Pavilion by Liz Williams Page B

in return, of course. She was seated on a throne at the far end of the room, beneath a gleaming canopy. Sky-blue robes, embroidered with clouds, pooled around her feet. She held a peacock feather fan, half-concealing her beautiful face. “I am glad that you came so promptly.”
    â€œThe gladness is mine,” Seijin replied. “Between is sometimes … tricky.”
    â€œI’m sure. You experienced no difficulties? You were not followed?”
    â€œNo.” This said with a degree of some confidence: Seijin had experience of many tricks. “Might I confirm that you have not discussed our arrangement with anyone else, however?”
    â€œNo one. Not even my most trusted advisers. I find that my son has become inexplicably popular. My husband was on the throne for over a thousand years, you see. Spirits are like children, they crave novelty, and now they have it.”
    Seijin gave a thin smile. “A honeymoon period, I am sure.”
    The silence behind him was suddenly very noticeable, with even the hushed and reverent sounds of the temple abruptly cut off. Seijin knew, without needing to look, that turning around would not reveal the door; the chamber had been entirely sealed.
    â€œIndeed. Thank you, Seijin, for your tact.” The Dowager Empress’ smile was equally thin. “But then again, if you perform correctly the task for which you have been contracted, the honeymoon will not be followed by a marriage.”
    â€œWell,” Seijin remarked philosophically, “certainly not a happy one.”
    â€œWhen we last spoke, it was of necessity a brief meeting. My son had not yet been crowned, and I was not sure—I felt that this regrettable procedure might be necessary, but I had to make certain.” The Dowager Empress spoke earnestly and Seijin granted her the weight of full attention. Difficult not to, in any case: Seijin might be beyond most of the rules which governed the three worlds, but this was, after all, Heaven’s own Empress and she commanded a degree of concentration. It was hard to look anywhere other than her lovely face: no wonder she had held so much power for so long, even with an Imperial husband and the sheeplike nature of the inhabitants of Heaven.
    â€œI understand,” Seijin murmured. The Empress rose in a rustle of sky-blue and cloud—not simply the color, Seijin saw, but actual fragments of sky and wisps of mist—and came down the steps of the throne to stand beside her latest employee. She put a hand on Seijin’s arm and the coolness of her fingers penetrated the armor.
    â€œI have heard a great deal about you, Lord Lady Seijin. A child of Heaven and Hell, born on Earth. Male and female, in one body. Light and darkness. Some people call you an abomination.”
    â€œSome people,” Seijin said, smiling, “are not wrong.”
    â€œThey tell me you began your—career—in the Khan’s armies. That you were trained by one of the monks he had captured. That you were responsible for massacres at Samarkand.”
    Seijin said, deprecatingly, “This, too, is true. All except the massacre, although I was involved. But I prefer subtlety. One on one, as they say nowadays.”
    â€œThey say you have not had a commission for some years. Perhaps, for half a century.” The coolness of her hand was deepening into frost; Seijin had to struggle not to pull the arm away.
    â€œAh,” Seijin said. “But did they also tell you that this is because I turned many offers down?”
    â€œNo,” the Dowager Empress said, considering. “They did not tell me that.”
    â€œI had proposals from kings and dictators and presidents. From Führers and gangsters. Nothing interested me sufficiently to accept it. Some foolish folk attempted to coerce me, and were taught the nature of their error. Some attempted to bribe, which is a little more intelligent. But my current place of residence is