“Perhaps they were demons,” he said kindly.

She rocked side to side. “Are there demons? Or is it just a story we tell?”

“Eiya! Certainly there are demons in this world. Some are human, and some are not.”

She jumped to her feet. “I am a demon! Everyone said so!”

“You are not a demon, lass. You never were. You are a Guardian.”

“What is a Guardian?”

“Heh.” His Rat’s mind was pleased at this small victory. “A difficult question, one that in the end must be answered by what you do, not by what I tell you. The Guardians were placed in the Hundred by the gods to bring justice to the land. To preside at the assizes, the local courts, so that those who commit crimes are punished properly and those who are innocent are not wrongly charged.”

“I want justice.”

“Of course. We become Guardians because we sought justice—indeed, gave our life in seeking justice on behalf of others. As you did for your brother and the other children.”

She looked away.

“What is your name?” he asked gently.

She turned back. “I want the offering bowl, and the lantern.”

Her bold demand pleased him. Something of the self-sufficient girl he had glimpsed in her tale sparked in her expression as she regarded him with hand outstretched.

So be it.

“Here, the bowl.” He handed it over. “There’s a loop to fasten it on your belt. I will place a stone in your palm. I can’t predict how it will affect you. I fainted for days, but Mist—who came before you—told me she merely felt a sting.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said, by which he suspected she meant: I’m not afraid of that kind of pain, having endured something much worse.

He fished in his sleeve and drew out the black stone, as smooth as a river pebble and smaller than a warbler’s egg. “Which is your strong hand?”

“My right.”

“Hold out your left, then. Palm up.” She watched him. Those demon-blue eyes were unnerving, if you stopped to think about their watery pallor. But that did not matter. She was part of the Hundred now, and if he did not teach her properly the others would find her and corrupt her, and he would be the last one left.

He placed the stone in her palm.

Light flared, so bright he shut his eyes.

When he opened them, she was still sitting there, hand clenched in a fist. The fire crackled as if nothing had happened.

“Ouch.” With beads of sweat on her upper lip, she cautiously opened her hand. Light pierced the darkness, and she giggled unexpectedly, sounding like a girl.

Of course, she was just a girl.

“Do you know in what year you were born?” he asked her, not sure if demons counted the years as humans did.

“I’m a Hawk!” She grinned, fisting her hand and opening it to see no light, and then fisting and opening to bring light.

“There is no Year of the Hawk.”