Flicker knew he was in trouble when Glitter summoned him to her office. Work hours had officially ended for the day, but that just meant the halls were still crammed with not only clerks but also the cleaning staff. He circled around a grizzled imp with a bristling beard who looked more inclined to beat a hanging scroll to pieces than to dust it.

  That’s going to be me, Flicker thought gloomily. Demoted to the cleaning staff. If I get lucky and Glitter doesn’t rip me apart instead.

  He tapped softly on her office door. The Superintendent of Reincarnation always shut it precisely when working hours ended. No one knew why, given that she then proceeded to stay later than anyone else.

  “Enter,” her voice commanded.

  Taking a deep breath, Flicker turned the knob. To his surprise, she wasn’t sitting behind her desk like the un-tenured director of the bureau. She was planted in front of her bookcase, hands clasped behind her back.

  “Shut the door and come over here,” she ordered without turning around.

  Flicker eased the door into its frame with as little noise as possible and crept across the floor. He tried to guess what titles she was staring at, as if they might give some indication as to her mood and his fate. Glitter had a surprisingly large collection of classic poetry and natural philosophy texts, but the books before her were all on the law.

  Oh dear.

  “What does Law R.2 say?” She shot the question at him, still without looking at him.

  The “R” indicated that it related to reincarnation. The “2” indicated that it was the second law in that section of the legal code, meaning that it was extremely important.

  She knows.

  Shoulders sagging, Flicker recited, “Law R.2 states that Souls shall be dipped in the Tea of Forgetfulness before Reincarnation, so that they may go on to their next Lives without the Baggage and Encumbrances of their previous Memories.”

  What should he do now? Confess at once and throw himself on her mercy? Pull a Piri and brazen it out until he hit an immovable, impenetrable barrier?

  Before he could decide, Glitter spoke again. “And what do the Rules and Regulations of this Bureau have to say about clerks who break the law?”

  Flicker’s spine drooped under the weight of his shoulders. “They state that punishment is to be according to the magnitude of the offense and at the discretion of their superior.”

  No punishments were specified for various offenses, but that was mostly to give the higher-ups greater latitude in punishing wrongdoing.

  “Yes. Now let us suppose that there is a clerk who willfully breaks not only the decree of his Assistant Director but also the law itself. What do you imagine an appropriate punishment would be?”

  Execution was the word that leaped to mind. If Dragon Kings could be decapitated for summoning spontaneous rainfall that wasn’t on the Roll of Authorized Annual Precipitation, then how else could you possibly punish a clerk who defied his Assistant Director and broke the law of Heaven?

  I can’t die! I won’t die! There has to be some way to not die. Think: What would Piri do? How would she wiggle out of this situation?

  Glitter tapped a forefinger on the spine of The Laws of Heaven. She wasn’t going to wait forever. He had to speak, before she decreed a punishment and it was too late. His mouth was so dry that only a croak emerged.

  He licked his lips, gulped, and tried again. “Perhaps…perhaps the appropriate punishment would depend on…on the motivation of the clerk. Perhaps extenuating circumstances could be…taken into account.”

  It was as good as an admission of guilt. But it was also simultaneously a plea for leniency. Was it good enough to save him?

  An eternity passed while Glitter considered. “What extenuating circumstances could justify the breaking of Heaven’s law?”

  This might actually work! He might actually escape with his skin in one piece and his starlight fully contained inside it!

  “Hypothetically, there might be a clerk who is part of Fate’s greater design. His breaking the law might be predestined, in order to further that plan.” Piri would throw in a sweetener for Glitter here, wouldn’t she? What did Glitter personally want? “His actions might contribute towards the reunification of the Serican Empire – ” no, why would Glitter care about political structures on Earth? – “leading to greater prosperity both on Earth and in Heaven.”

  As Superintendent, she oversaw the finances of the Bureau. She had to care about the amount of offerings they received, didn’t she?

  Her face didn’t so much as twitch. No, a trickle-down benefit from greater financial stability making her job easier wasn’t enough to motivate her. Think! What did Glitter want? What did Glitter care about?

  Work. He had only ever seen her care about work, and about the smooth functioning of the Bureau of Reincarnation. How could his and Piri’s actions make the Bureau function more smoothly? How could the Bureau be made to function more smoothly?

  By placing someone competent in charge of day-to-day affairs. Someone – like Glitter.

  “Hypothetically, if a Bureau were on more sound financial footing, perhaps its employees would have the leeway to implement changes…even personnel changes…to improve its functioning….”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Flicker held his breath. If he had guessed wrong, if she went to the Assistant Director with this, if the Assistant Director were listening in on this conversation even now….

  Glitter’s chin dipped, just a tad, accepting his justification for why that hypothetical clerk might not deserve execution.

  “Very good. You may go.”

  Flicker released his breath in such a long sigh that some of his starlight flowed out too. He inhaled it back in while bowing deeply.

  “And Flicker, consider the situation where that hypothetical clerk and the hypothetical soul whose reincarnation he oversees exercised a little more discretion? So that their transgression of the law does not come to the attention of his superiors?”

  “Thank you, Superintendent. I will think on that hypothetical.”

  “Do so. Now go.”

  Flicker fled as fast as he could without tripping over his hem.

  In Flicker’s office:

  Let’s just say that Flicker did not have positive feedback for my acting.

  “Piri! What was that?!” he hissed as soon as his office door shut behind me. “You promised to act like a normal rat!”

  I did act like a normal rat! I scurried around and looked for food. I even got into an argument with another rat over her nest. At least, that was the way I’d decided to frame my interaction with the mother rat who taught me how to hiss.

  “You call that acting like a normal rat?! Maybe a rat with a parasite in its brain that drove it crazy!” He paused. “Hmm.”

  What do you mean, “Hmm”? Are you suggesting that I’m that parasite?!

  The corners of Flicker’s lips pulled down. “No. I’m saying that you were not acting like a ‘normal rat’ – ” he made air quotes – “by any interpretation of the word. Either word,” he specified before I asked.

  Hmph. I settled into a grumpy pancake on his desk. You know, Flicker, it’s really not that easy to fake being a mindless animal. So if you have any advice on how to improve my acting skills, I’m all ears.

  Just to emphasize my point, I raised round knobs that were vaguely reminiscent of rat ears all over my surface.

  Flicker shuddered. “Stop that. I don’t believe I can give any acting advice to a former nine-tailed fox demon. Aren’t there any skills from any of your previous lives that you can draw on? Preferably before you get us both caught?”

  He was right. He was an honest, obedient, law-abiding (well, formerly law-abiding) little clerk. I was the one with the experience in deception.

  Flicker shuffled my curriculum vitae without actually reading it. “Just so you know, I got called into Glitter’s office. She figured it out.”

  She did?! What did she say? What did she do? She didn’t punish you, did she?

  Flicker opened his mouth, seemed to change his mind, and shut it. “No, no, nothing like that. I, um, might have sort of implied that we’ll improve the functioning of the Bureau, so she’s going to expect that at some point in the future, but….”

  Oh, was that it? I’d assumed we were going to do that eventually anyway. Any workplace that overworked and underpaid and failed to recognize and promote someone like Flicker was sorely in need of improvement.

  That’s fine. We’ll take care of that. But just to double-check: You are reincarnating me with my mind, right?

  For some reason, he sighed. “Yes, yes, I am. Just try to act more like a normal rat?”

  I’ll try harder. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.

  “Uh….” Somehow, that extravagant promise did not reassure Flicker. “Maybe try less hard than that…?”

  An oil lamp wick leaped to life in my mind. Yes! That’s it! You’re exactly right! I’ll try less hard!

  Even though he was the one who’d just suggested it, he regarded me dubiously. “Uh…are you sure that’s the right attitude to take?”

  Yes! I’ve been trying so hard that I’m not listening to my rat instincts! I need to try less hard, let go, and let them come to the forefront of my mind.

  Flicker cocked his head to a side, considered it, then seemed to give up. “Well, so long as you know what you’re doing.”

  Yep! I’ve gotten the hang of it now. Reincarnate me!

  With insulting trepidation, he did.

  On Earth:

  Okay, maybe letting go with my Piri-mind and going with the flow of my rat-brain wasn’t so easy. Because, crucially, it required letting go. Normal rats didn’t trot into a room and scan it for dead, dying, or sick humans. Normal rats didn’t inventory the contents of kitchens or storerooms before nibbling on the stalest bread or the oldest, most bug-ridden rice that was already crumbling into powder. Normal rats didn’t scrutinize every cat they came across for signs that it was a spy colleague of Boot’s.

  Normal rats also didn’t fret about how their friends were doing, and all the ways in which they could be getting injured or sick or in trouble with local authorities or gods. How was Stripey’s mortal crane body faring as it aged? How was Lodia holding up under the pressure of setting policies for an entire Temple network? Were Floridiana and Dusty still with the others, or had they gone home to Claymouth? And if so, had Den returned with them? How would the others fare without the protection of a dragon king, albeit a minor one? What fresh schemes had that five-tailed foxling devised without me there to foil them?

  And was I causing trouble for Flicker up in Heaven? If I slept under this bush instead of inside that hollow, was that too un-rat-like? If I scuttled to the right instead of to the left, would that arouse suspicion? Was Cassius accusing Flicker at this very moment?

  The only person I didn’t worry about was Bobo. She was so resilient that she could survive anything with her bubbly good cheer.

  Yes. That was it. I needed to be more like Bobo. So what would Bobo do, if she were reincarnated in a rat’s body with her mind but needed to pretend to be a normal rat?

  Bobo wouldn’t plan. She wouldn’t scheme. She would let life take her where it would, and react to situations as they arose.

  Ugh, that felt so wrong! Just let go of all my plans and schemes and let what happened, happen? Without trying to control or direct events?

  I’ll try it for a day, I told myself. Just one day. And if it turns out to be a complete waste of time, well, losing one day isn’t so bad.

  Thus resolved, I picked a direction at random and scampered through tall grasses until I heard the creak of wagon wheels and the clip-clopping of mule hooves. Was it too directed for a rat to go investigate? No, it was probably all right. It wasn’t for any specific purpose. I was just curious. And I’d decide what to do after I saw what lay that way, instead of planning out all avenues of attack now.

  Letting rat-brain take over my legs, I scurried from tuft of grass to stand of wildflowers until I came to the edge of a dirt track. Deep ruts indicated that it was well traveled. Go right or go left? Before I could stop myself, I checked the position of the sun. It was still early morning. If another wagon came by, I could follow it, because it would probably be heading towards a larger population center, whatever that meant in this part of Serica.

  Wait, no. Too much thinking!

  I squeezed my eyes shut and leaped over a rock. I landed slightly to its left. All right. Left it was. I started trotting that way, and my random choice paid off, because the empty fields and stands of trees turned into farms and then vegetable patches and then buildings in the distance that had to be a town.

  Another road joined the one I was following, and before I could stop myself, I darted across the intersection to read the signs. “Roseberry Topping” read one of them, accompanied by an arrow. The name sounded familiar. Floridiana must have mentioned it at some point.

  Well, might as well go visit her old haunt. I could tell her how it was doing the next time I saw her.