Bai considered this. “I can believe such of Aka, but,” Bai shook his head, “surely Gang would not help with such an endeavor?”
“What, because you were his teacher? Or because Noran was his mother?” Neela shook her head. “You don’t know him as well as you think.
“Early this morning, while you were still butchering mortals, Aka locked Phoenix in the Underworld. He was the last of them – the last of the immortal creatures.”
“Are you certain?” Worry and disbelief sharpened his voice. “How could he have done that without our noticing?”
“Some of us have noticed – Cheng, Haraa, and I. And so have Zi and Hei for that matter – they’ve been helping him in exchange for a position at court.”
“Court? What court?”
Neela smiled humorlessly. “The Court of the Heavens. You are now an imperial subject of the Sun Emperor. As are all who live in the upper realms.”
Bai snorted. “I’d like to see Aka try to command me.”
“Hmm. I wouldn’t mind seeing that myself.” Then she sighed. “Regardless of how much personal power you have, most are now subject to Aka’s rule. Which isn’t all bad–”
Bai cut her off. “But what are you proposing? You want me to fight him? That’s why you sought me out?”
Neela suddenly looked old and tired, her tens of millennia showing in her eyes. “No. I want you to stop fighting. I sought you out so you wouldn’t fight him. Can you imagine the destruction of an immortal war? You against Aka and Zi and Hei? All those little deities they’ve gathered around themselves?” Neela shuddered.
“I consider it done,” she continued. “Aka is the Sun Emperor. I want you to accept it. That’s why I found you.”
Bai looked at Neela closely – about as closely as she was studying him. For the second time that day, he wondered just what she thought she could do to him. She clearly had some idea – but he was hardly going to provoke a pregnant woman nearing labor. He didn’t want to fight Aka anyway.
Casting about for a different subject, Bai tried, “Who’s the father?”
“I don’t know.”
Perhaps, all things considered, that was not surprising. “I could find him for you,” Bai offered.
Neela laughed. “Not even you could find him – he must be eight hundred years dead. He was a mortal – I made sure of that.”
“Ah – you thought you could have the child all to yourself.”
Neela scowled. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s good for children to have two parents – it brings balance. She’ll look to others for guidance whether you like it or not.”
Neela turned to him in excitement. “She?”
“Yes. It’ll be a girl.”
“Good. Then I’ll name her Aashchary.” Neela smiled to herself, dismissing his warning as pontificating. Bai shrugged – there was nothing he could say to convince her. Neela was as stubborn as they came.
“She’ll be born soon – less than a week, I should think. Do you have a midwife?”
Neela tossed her head. “What do I need one for?”
Bai smiled. “It’s easier to have a baby with support.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll stay nearby until the babe comes, if you like. I’ve caught a few.”
“You? When?”
“When soldiers go to war, wives and other women follow. And inevitably...”
“So mortal babes then.”
Bai shrugged. “The process is the same for us as it is for them, if longer.”
Neela looked down, chewing her full bottom lip. “Well, if you want.”
Bai smiled slightly. “I’ll stay then. I need to think through all you’ve told me, anyway.”
TWO weeks after little Aashchary entered the world, Bai teleported to the Gate to the Underworld.
Aka had built it in the Land of Winter, a lone structure on top of barren Mount Korikami. Despite being summer, a bitter wind mourned the Korikami, the fearsome creature that Aka had trapped in the Underworld a few millennia ago. The wind chilled Bai through his dove petal clothes.
Black gravel crunched beneath his feet as he circled the vermilion torii gate that now was the only way to enter the Underworld. So fervently red that it almost glowed, the gate consisted of two thick columns on either side, two bars across the top, with a flaring roof above the upper. He had walked through it several times, but each time he had simply passed through to the other side – in fact, if not for his insight into the true nature of things, he might have believed it was nothing but a beautiful monument.
It needed a key to enter. An object that triggered the gate so that the other side was the Underworld. Aka must have the key. The same narcissism that had led the immortal to declare himself a god and now an emperor would surely compel him to keep such a powerful artifact for himself.
Bai had no intention of starting a war to free the creatures, but the gate was not fully closed and that troubled him. Energy was streaming through it, flowing most likely to the key. Without being able to examine the key, Bai could not identify that energy, but he suspected that Aka was draining power from the creatures he had defeated.
Even if only the foulest of the monsters were trapped there, Bai could not abide such an arrangement. To steal another’s power was wrong. Each being had a right to itself; he had learned that the hard way when Aka came to be.
It had been over fifty millennia since that day, and Bai had decided that it was not only futile to control other beings, but it was wrong. Everyone was entitled to their own self, to make their own choices poorly or wisely, to regulate their own bodies, minds, and powers – so long as they respected those rights in others.
The possibility that Aka might be violating that essential truth in regard to the immortal creatures filled Bai with a cold anger.
He needed to see the key for himself.
Bai transformed into a white egret, hiding the Starlight Sword and the Water Shield in his feathers, and took to the skies. He teleported midflight to the air above the Sun Palace.
When Aka claimed his divinity, he had rather pretentiously gathered the red rays of a rising sun and created a floating residence. Bai had visited it before, a guest of Noran and then later Gang, but he was surprised to see just how much it had changed.
The original residence’s walls were still in place, creating what must still be Aka and his wife’s personal living compound. Central was a nine-storied pagoda with red clay roofs and gold-leaf sides. On either side of the pagoda were pavilions centered in two large ponds with arching bridges granting access to them. Grand halls stood at both the north and south points of the enclosure, and several smaller buildings were set among the gardens. This was familiar.
But there was now an outer wall encapsulating as much space as the inner. There were new gardens being landscaped and a variety of colorful buildings – the residences of his court, perhaps. Three smaller circular compounds were also present – it was easy enough to see that each was for one of Aka’s children. Bai briefly considered going to Gang’s, near the north gate, but Bai no longer trusted his student as he always had. To see him and know Gang had changed – or worse, that he was the same, but Bai had never known him at all – well, Bai would simply find the key himself.
Bai opened his senses, looking for it. He knew it would have the same essence as the gate he had just studied.
Aka was having tea in one of the pavilions with two concubines. Dangling from a red ribbon around his neck was a wooden pendant carved into a sun with a hundred rays, painted deep vermilion like the gate – the key. Kunjee, it told Bai its name.
Bai’s suspicions were correct; Kunjee was siphoning magical power from the creatures trapped in the Underworld.
Bai immediately decided to take it.
He flew to the Southern Gate, circling once before landing lightly on the polished pink marble slab before it. Two guards, clad in red leather with embossed suns on their chest
s, eyed him curiously. As Bai transformed, they both lowered their spears nervously. When he was once again himself – clad in the white dove petal clothes he had made by the Kuanbai River, the Starlight Sword and the Watershield on his back – Bai smiled at the Guards and bowed respectfully.
“I have come to see the Sun Emperor.”
The guard to the left frowned and began, “The Sun Emperor–” but his fellow raised a hand, having noted Bai’s pure white warrior’s knot and the gleaming handle over his shoulder.
“Bai the Warrior, bearer of the Starlight Sword,” he said and bowed. “Please wait while we send a messenger to his Imperial Majesty.”
Bai nodded graciously. If he had to fight his way in, he would, but let them see if Aka would welcome him.
As he waited, he amused himself by studying the elaborate illusion of water that filled the circular gate, intended to conceal the palace grounds. With little effort, Bai looked through it to see a broad flagstone path edged with cherry trees – their leaves were a vibrant green with bright red clusters of fruit hiding amongst them. At the end of the path was Aka’s Reception Hall, a massive wooden building with vermilion pillars as thick as a man was tall and a flaring red-clay roof. Very quickly, a large retinue arrived at the hall, Aka at the center and wearing Kunjee. Some minutes later, an official wearing rose robes heavily embroidered with silver peonies made his way down the flagstone path and through the gate. He bowed to Bai repeatedly, inviting him to enter the palace. Passing through the high arch of Southern Gate immediately brought the rich, sweet smell of ripe cherries and a noticeable warming of the air.
As they approached the large hall, Bai saw it was not entirely red after all – golden lattices decorated the top and bottom of the pillars and gold chrysanthemums were on the end of every row of roof tiles. Bai recognized Noran’s designs immediately, and his heart, even after all these years, lurched sadly. They walked up a wide set of stone steps, and Bai’s escort immediately genuflected on a marble floor that was as pure a white as Bai’s robes. At the far end of the hall, Aka sat on a massive red lacquer throne carved with immortal creatures. To his right sat his Empress, the Goddess of Lightning, whom Bai had known before her marriage. She kept her eyes on her hands and her expression blank. To Aka’s left was a young woman with eyes just a bit deeper red than Aka’s – his daughter. She returned Bai’s gaze with frank curiosity, and her ambition scorched him. He abruptly returned his focus to her father.
Aka’s hands clenched his armrests when he realized that Bai had no intention of genuflecting, but he said nothing. The official glanced at Bai nervously – because of his master’s anger and because he realized how powerful Bai must be to ignore Aka’s rules. As he rose, he trembled like a leaf in the wind.
They halted twenty paces before Aka where a red-lacquered table had been set with refreshments.
The official indicated that Bai should be seated then backed away from the imperial presence on his knees, until he reached the pillars where other members of the court sat. Bai eyed them. “Perhaps a private discussion would be preferable?” he said dryly.
Bai could see hesitation, doubt, deep under Aka’s façade, but the other man simply replied, “These are the record keepers of the Sun Court. They watch all my meetings.”
Bai arched a brow but shrugged.
“I’ve come for Kunjee.”
Aka stiffened. Before he could make a reply, Bai continued, “You’ve sealed the immortal creatures, and made yourself emperor, but the power it channels does not belong to you. You have no right to harvest it.”
Aka scowled now. “And you do?”
“No. No one does. I will keep it safe so that no being can siphon the power of the immortal creatures.”
Aka stroked the red sun pendant. “Did you really go to Cheolmun Pass?”
“I did. I killed three hundred mortals for your cause. I will accept Kunjee as payment.”
Red fire danced over Aka’s fingers before disappearing. “You would find me a more difficult target than those mortals.”
Bai again arched a brow. “I am sure I would. And your death would reverberate throughout the realms more heavily than theirs.”
Sweat beaded on Aka’s forehead.
“I think we must let fate tell us if you or I should be the keeper of Kunjee,” he suggested.
“A duel?” asked Bai, somewhat surprised.
“Not with weapons,” answered Aka. “Let us play Jieqi.”
The world game. Bai nodded his consent.
Aka waved his hand, and there was a flurry of activity as court officials set up the game. Brown ribbons were stretched across the floor to create a grid, with four blue ribbons crossing diagonally for rivers. The court officials donned masks – monkey, elephant, goat, peacock, deer, elephant, tiger, and dragon. They took their places as pieces, and Bai had to suppress a laugh at the sheer pretension. It seemed they were well-acquainted to this job though, as they elegantly and efficiently followed the instructions that Bai and Aka called out.
At last Bai prevailed. He watched Aka carefully as he captured the emperor’s dragon to win the game.
Aka seethed beneath the surface as he removed Kunjee from his neck. He then blasted it toward Bai on a ray of pure sunshine that could easily have been deathly, but Bai froze the water vapor that hung in its path and used it to whirl away the heat before he caught the key.
“Thank you,” Bai responded and almost teleported. But he sensed Aka’s satisfaction and studied the pendant intently. Aka had woven an intricate protection that prevented any but himself from teleporting with it – anyone else who did so would leave the pendant behind. Bai thought he could break the protection, but he immediately saw the folly of doing so – such a protection would make it difficult for a thief to steal it. So, after a moment’s thought, he slipped the ribbon over his head, gave a nod to the court, and walked out of the palace.
He summoned a wispy cirrus cloud at the gate and harnessed it as mount.
The men gaped as the cloud drifted away.
He sighed. He had never felt so old, as if all the millennia of his life were bearing down on him. He touched the sun pendant around his neck. Kunjee.
First, I must put you somewhere safe. Then... then I can lay down my burdens.
He steered the cloud to the White Mountain. It is time to go home. To leave this world behind.
Chapter 1: How Nanami Stole a God
Present Day
IT was before dawn when the tugging of summoning woke Nanami the Thief. Disoriented in the dark, she tried to sit up but was caught by bands around her waist and chest. Nanami remembered that she tied herself in the crotch of a tree for the night. She was still fully dressed, so it was but a minute’s work to untie the bindings and teleport in response to the summons.
About half an hour later, Nanami arrived in a small circle of light cast by a fire burning on coarse sand. A thickset man sat by it, though he stood at her appearance. She took a moment to orient herself – the bitterly cold air told Nanami she was in the north, and she recognized Mos Lake, just a stone’s throw from the fire. Mos Lake sat in a valley in the Cold Peaks, and those mountains surrounded her, outlined in a rosy glow. The man – her summoner – was bundled against the cold with thick furs. It was hard to determine his expression in the flickering firelight, but Nanami had the impression of great patience and control.
“A moment, please.” She walked to the lakeshore and pulled up a thick rope of water which she shook out into a cloak. Once it settled on her shoulders, it was warm and dry, bearing no resemblance to its origins.
She returned to the man and exchanged bows with him before settling herself in the fire’s circle across from him.
“I see the rumor is true–” he began but stopped as Nanami tossed a small blue sphere into the flames. The flames turned bright blue and the smoke sweet.
“I insist on honesty from my clients,” Nanami explained at his cocked eyebrow.
“What is your name?” Nanami asked.
The man shook his head. “I wish to be anonymous. Is that acceptable?”
“Perhaps,” Nanami hedged, “but it will make delivery more difficult.”
“That’s alright – I want you to steal something so the owner doesn’t have it, not so that I do. Keep it, throw it away, sell it, whatever you wish.”
The flames stayed true blue. Surprised, Nanami studied the man more carefully.
Between recognizing her as the Sea Dragon’s daughter and having cast the summoning so well, he must be an immortal. His beard and hair were thick and reminded Nanami of rusty iron, with patches of gray and orange. He wore his hair in a simple top knot with no ornamentation; his beard was perhaps six inches long and flared out at the tips like the roofs on her father’s palace. Deep lines marked his forehead, as if his brow was usually furrowed, and there were puffy bags under his eyes. Life had been hard on this man.
He had no visible weapons (personally, Nanami had five weapons concealed on her body), but he moved as if there was a sword at his right hip – his hand had moved there automatically when she had added the truth detector to the flames. He was very broad, but not fat, and Nanami suspected that weapons or no, this man would do well in a fight. He met her gaze boldly, giving Nanami a sense of directness and honesty – not common in the clients of a thief. She had to admit, she was curious about this job.
“So who’s the owner?” she asked.
When his expression objected, she added, “I don’t need a name, but at least their relation to you or...” She waved to indicate the variety of options.
He nodded once. “My daughter’s future betrothed. The man’s a drunkard. He has an earthenware jug that dispenses limitless alcohol. I want you to steal it so that when he comes to the betrothal ceremony in seven days, he’s sober – or at least less intoxicated than usual.”
Vows of Gold and Laughter (The Immortal Beings Book 1) Page 2
