10 Lishi shu'Ling (1/2)

As they approached the shrine, the crowds became more dense and the acolyte's bell ringing was a constant din too near Lishi's ear for comfort. For the month of the Huangdi's Jubilee, the population of Orbis swelled with tourists and visitors hoping to meet the Huangdi and mingle with the wan'-and-shu'. Every day, the Guji emerged from the shrine to bless the crowds promptly at Second Ring, then proceeded along the Main Boulevard and over the Yellow River via the Stonecutters Bridge. There, at the Old Shrine on the Isle Huan, he offered up prayers of thanksgiving for the Huangdi's continued health.

Near the temple plaza, a line of Huangd Patrol, the city guards, held back the crowds from the doors through which the Guji would appear. The patrol's brass-tipped staffs jutted above the heads of the onlookers like the posts of a fence, and Lishi could glimpse the midnight blue of their uniforms through the less somber colors of those waiting for the Guji to appear. The acolyte standing at the door to Lishi's carriage produced a whistle from under his robes and blew a piercing note. The patrol responded, opening a gap in the crowd for the carriage to pass through. They rode into the plaza, the wheels of the carriage chattering against the marble flags set there, the torii-driver's chant ending as the carriage came to a halt to the east of the main doors. The acolyte hopped down from his perch and opened the door, assisting Lishi to the ground.

"Who am I supposed to see?" she asked the acolyte, glancing around. She saw no one obviously waiting for them. "Hu'Torii shu'Chang?"

"Wait here," the acolyte answered. "That's all I was told. After the Guji's blessing..."

The great wind-horns, one in each of the six domes of the shrine, sounded at that moment: low, sonorous notes that throbbed and moaned like giants in distress, the wail clawing at the stones of the buildings bordering the plaza and driving clouds of pigeons up from the rooftops. The crowd went silent under the assault, pressing clasped hands to foreheads as the huge temple doors—carved into intertwined trees—swung open. Lishi made the same gesture of obeisance alongside the carriage. A phalanx of acolyte celebrants in simple white robes emerged first, each with an incense brazier clanking and swaying on the end of brass chains, the fragrant smoke curling and drifting in the slight breeze. As they entered the sunlight they began to sing, their melodious, youthful voices dancing with the intricate harmonies of Huxian's well-known hymn Inari Eternal. A dozen purple-robed an'torii of the Guji's Council followed them—the highest of the torii, elderly men and women blinking at the assault of daylight after the dimness within the shrine's basilica. Then, finally, came the Guji's open carriage, wrought in the shape of Inari's fractured globe, the blue of the seas a pure lapis lazuli, the green and gold of the continents a matrix of emeralds and gold, the crack that rent the world bright with tiny blood-red rubies. A téni chanted alongside each of the four wheels of the carriage and the wheels turned in response, while the purple-robed Guji himself stood atop the globe, pressing his own clasped hands to forehead as if he were no more than any of the people in the crowd. Four acolytes in white robes carried long poles, over which was draped an awning of gold-and-purple silk, sheltering the Guji from the elements.

Guji Shiren wan'Tsung, despite his standing as head of the Inarian Faith, hardly cut a magnificent figure. The dwarf was old—nearly as old as the Huangdi herself. His liver-spotted scalp was bordered by a short hedge of white hair just above the ears and low around the back of his skull. His already-shrunken stature was further diminished by the bowing of his spine, which forced his chin down onto his chest, and the arms which emerged from the short, wide sleeves of his stately robes were thin, wobbling with loose, wrinkled skin. Yet the eyes were alert and bright, and the mouth smiled.

Lishi smiled in return, just seeing him; she had never been this close to the Gushi before, not even in the Shrine during ceremonies. It was probably just coincidence, but he seemed to notice her as well, nodding once in her direction before turning back to the crowds. He lifted his hands, his voice—no doubt strengthened by his mastery of the Misogi—beginning to call the traditional blessing of Inari on the throngs.

Lishi heard the disturbance before she saw it: another voice striving against that of the Guji. Turning her head from the Guji toward the crowd, she caught a glimpse of someone standing in the midst of the kneeling throngs. The patrol saw the man at the same moment and began to move toward him, but they were already too late. The stranger—she saw a ruddy complexion and hair the color of summer straw—moved his hands in a pushing motion and the patrol between him and the Guji went down as if struck by an invisible fist, as well as those in a circle around him.

The acolyte next to Lishi sucked in his breath; the torii in the driver's seat of her carriage grunted in alarm. The crowd was shouting now: "A Mategician...! The Guji...!" Lishi couldn't hear the magicchanting of the man, but his mouth still moved and a blue-white, sputtering glow had swallowed his right hand. Lishi had seen similar effects, had performed them imperfectly herself, for that matter. She knew the set of words that could conjure up the heat of the air, could concentrate it into a ball—but the Mategician performed the spell faster than any torii, with just a few words....

The patrol the man had struck down were starting to stagger up, but she knew none of them could reach him quickly enough to prevent the attack. Lishi knew that the Guji had seen the disturbance as well, but when she glanced at him he was still smiling, his hands still raised in blessing even though he'd stopped speaking. Otherwise, he had not reacted.

The Mategician—he had to be one of that shadowy group; who else would dare to do something like this?—swung his arm in a throwing motion and the spitting glare in his hand arced toward the Guji.