She flexed her fingers and toes to see if she had a full complement, and that they would move to her will. To her relief, the digits obeyed. Sometimes a vessel sustained injuries, and sometimes the rebirth was not a complete success. Pari had heard stories of Deathless that only had partial control of their bodies, where the soul was misaligned, allowing a demon to slip into the cracks, gaining power over a hand, an elbow, or worse, the jaw.

The Bringers watched her closely. It occurred to her that she still hadn’t answered their question.

‘I am Lady,’ she began, then stopped. The voice that issued from her throat was unfamiliar. High, girlish.

Seven masked faces leaned closer at her hesitation, no doubt searching for signs of possession. If she made a mistake, innocent or otherwise, they would assume the worst, declare her abomination, and end her.

She cleared her throat. ‘I am Lady Pari Tanzanite.’

‘Lady Pari Tanzanite is welcome,’ replied one of the Bringers. ‘If you are she.’

‘If,’ hissed the others.

‘If you are she,’ continued the first Bringer, ‘you will prove your humanity. Look at yourself and tell us what you are.’

Her body was more petite than her usual preferences, however there was some tone to the muscles, suggesting a reasonable level of fitness. Golden tattoos glittered against her sky-born skin, one for each significant death she had experienced. The nature of the tattoos and their frequency were decided by the High Lord of House Tanzanite at the end of Pari’s lifecycles. This was unfortunate as Pari’s relationship with High Lord Tanzanite was cordial at best.

She did not need to look to know that there was gold ink on her shoulder, just as she knew there were gold spots on the pads of her fingers and a single mark on her lower lip. She looked anyway. It was not above the Bringers to place false marks to confuse, or her High Lord to have added a new one to make a statement about Pari’s previous life.

But there was nothing obvious. If there were any new tattoos, they were tucked somewhere out of sight.

‘I feel the marks on my fingers and remember my first life, where I had touched a lie and refused to let it go, even though it burned me.’

The Bringers did not react, watching her with a searing intensity.

‘I see the mark on my shoulder and remember my fourth life –’ she frowned ‘– and the poor fortune that ended it.’

Again, the Bringers remained quiet, though she suspected they had shared some look at her expense.

‘I feel the mark on my lip and remember my fifth life, and the power of an expressive face.’ Which was a polite way of saying that when she needed to, she could pout people to death. It was still up for debate whether High Lord Tanzanite thought this was a good thing.