Rinko Higata had returned to Gedda several months before Lillian. She had been in the Niori peninsula, staying with her father’s family for the duration of Ospie rule. Now that she was back in the country, she still hadn’t established a private practice. Instead, she had been working off and on as an independent consultant to the provisional government and spending much of her spare time at the Yotoi temple mission on Porter Street, offering pro bono legal assistance to Niori immigrant families.

“Penance,” she had called it, looking rueful.

Lillian hadn’t spoken to her since their meeting before Solstice, about the prospect of recovering DePaul money from the abyss. She was loath to ask another favor, but at least this one was firmly in Rinko’s line.

Devotees in simple clothes welcomed her to the temple with kind smiles and soft words. She wondered if that would change if, for instance, her photo started running in the papers. Or if she ended up in front of a tribunal.

Rinko, the mission director said, was with a client just then, but would be done in half an hour. Would she take some barley tea?

She would, and did, and sat in the pleasant silence of the mission’s administrative office, listening to the echoes of chanted litanies from the small adjoining temple. The director left her alone, returning to his typewriter. The half hour she passed there, kneeling in her stockings on a quilted cotton pad, drinking toasty, steaming tea, was the calmest scrap of time she’d had since Jinadh handed her his page of ciphers and asked for help. She was almost disappointed when Rinko appeared, opening the door for a wan-faced woman whose eyes sat deep in dark circles. She sent the woman on her way with a few last words in Niorese—what little of that language Lillian had learned only served to translate goodbye—and then turned to face her next task.

“DePaul,” she said, hands on hips.

“Higata.” Lillian set her teacup aside, hands kept steady by concentration.

“I imagine you aren’t here about debate club reunion.”

“Astute as always.” Lillian rose from her cushion and smoothed her skirt.

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen on times hard enough you need a free legal consultation.”

“I’ll pay you,” said Lillian. “Though given you’ve had a look through my finances, you know exactly how much you can bleed from me before I faint.”

At that, Rinko laughed. Too loudly, for the mission director’s taste: He shot a dirty look in their direction.

“Come into my office,” said Rinko, holding out an arm to Lillian. “I can guess what you’re here for, and you’ll want something stronger than that tea.”