Vows of Gold and Laughter (The Immortal Beings Book 1)

by Edith Pawlicki

  Her first choice would be to break it, of course, and scatter the pieces, because although she didn’t object to alcohol generally, she didn’t see any good coming from the possession of a limitless supply of cheap wine. The jug’s purpose was clear – to feed an addiction.

  Nanami knew a little about addiction, having struggled with her own kleptomania, and the very existence of the jug offended her. The fact that Xiao’s father – if he really was the Night God, and given Xiao’s powerful illusion, Nanami supposed he must be – had created such a thing for his son made her mad on Xiao’s behalf. It also made her unsure if she could destroy the jug.

  The Nine Colors were hundreds of times more powerful than other immortals and even Nanami, the daughter of one Color, couldn’t match them. She’d tried to destroy one of their artifacts before and had failed miserably. Really, she wished that they’d give a little more thought to the long-term consequences before making immensely powerful objects that no one else could destroy. But perhaps miracles like the Great Willow and the Sanctuary Caves made up for abominations like the Sowon Gold and the Infinite Jug...

  Nanami selected a large piece of driftwood and swung it against the Infinite Jug. Wood splinters flew everywhere without even making a scratch. She tried a rock next. Despite being granite, it shattered against the coarse-looking clay.

  She shaped a water whip from Mos Lake and lashed the jug to no avail.

  She’d sink it then.

  Nanami made the water of the lake solid beneath her feet and dragged the jug behind her. When she reached the middle of the lake, she stopped supporting the cursed jug. It sank mostly down and then bobbed near the surface with just the crown of the jug showing.

  Fate was laughing at her today! The wine inside must be lighter than the water. Well, it wasn’t lighter than air. Nanami jumped on the jug, creating an air pocket around herself and the jug. By driving the water out of the way in front of her, the jug plummeted down to the bottom of the lake, Nanami with it.

  Soon the world was nothing but deep indigo and the temperature grew bitterly cold, but it exuded familiar comfort to Nanami. This was, in some ways, her natural state, at least on her father’s side. It reminded her a little bit of the Sea Palace, a thought that she pushed away.

  At the bottom, she pulled water over the top of the jug as if tying it to the ground. She changed the water to stone, a massive sapphire slab holding down the jug.

  She almost wished her father could see her now – it was magic worthy of his daughter.

  No, magic worthy of me, she corrected. Who cared if the Sea Dragon acknowledged her or not?

  She stared at the slab for a moment, reluctant to go back to the God of Pleasure when she had used so much of her power already but...

  She remembered his eyes when she said she was leaving. Despite his later claim to have been messing with her, Nanami was pretty sure that he was scared to be alone. He found being constrained deeply upsetting, and Nanami regretted her impulsive kidnapping. She rubbed her face. She’d feel a bigger fool if she just released him after all that pontificating she’d done about grooms being sober.

  Just two more days, then she’d free him and never see him again, most likely.

  Nanami moved between to return.

  WHEN Nanami reappeared at the campground, Xiao had finished his preparations.

  Using the charred chestnut shells and a bit of water, he had made a rough ink and written on one of the blankets she’d given him – a love story of the greatest thief in the world and the useless god she stole. When she returned him to full size, he just had to make sure the blanket changed with him, and he’d have the perfect binding for her.

  In the meantime, it was carefully folded and hidden.

  Nanami glanced at him when she returned to campground, and immediately flushed, her eyes lingering on his exposed chest. Xiao resumed his post at the bars, clad in nothing but his still damp underwear.

  She started to turn her head away, but then she swung it back at him.

  “Earlier, you called me Nanami.”

  Xiao grinned. It was amazing how much better he felt now that he had gotten under her skin. “And you responded.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Yes, you’re right, I am Nanami the Thief.”

  Xiao rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “It was pretty obvious when I thought about it. The tattoo on your back, the water magic, the stealing, and oh, your desperation for affection. Who else could you be but the Sea Dragon’s disowned daughter?”

  Her face went totally stiff and Xiao knew he’d struck a nerve. “You aren’t so wanted yourself, the useless God of Pleasure. I feel sorry for the Moon and Night deities – after such a disappointment as yourself, no wonder they didn’t have more children.”

  Xiao laughed. “That’s the best you can do, really? How trite.” He had all of her attention now. “I’m curious though, what gives you the gall to steal whatever you want?”

  “Because I can,” she said. “Isn’t power the only law in this world? Haven’t your parents taught you that yet? Besides, it isn’t what I want – it’s what my clients want. I don’t steal for myself.”

  “Really? I thought you stole me for yourself.”

  Nanami’s mouth dropped, and Xiao gave himself a mental high five. “I didn’t,” she sputtered. “Your father-in-law asked me to make sure you were sober this fifth day. I simply realized stealing the jug was not enough to complete my commission.”

  Xiao wanted to poke that – did she believe her lie? – but there was something more pressing. “Did you say my father-in-law? As in, the father of my betrothed?”

  “Yes,” she said with the confidence of belief.

  Xiao didn’t know who had hired the thief, but he was sure it had not been the Sun Emperor, despite her claim that Jin’s father was her employer. If Aka had wanted him sober, he would have just burned all the toxins from Xiao’s bloodstream. He’d done it once before, when Xiao had puked on his foot at a party.

  Did Nanami not know who he was marrying? Well, he wasn’t going to enlighten her – she’d find out when he brought her to the Sun Palace, and he would savor the surprise.

  THE next two days passed both too quickly and too slowly.

  Nanami was aware that Xiao had gotten the better of her when she revealed the identity of her client, so she refused to tell him any more about the job. This seemed to amuse him more than anything, but Nanami kept mute all the same.

  When he wasn’t trying to irritate her, Xiao made outrageous propositions. Nanami had been closer to accepting them than she liked to admit. And that irritated her more than his obvious teasing because she was pretty sure he knew how much he tempted her. So it was a relief when the day of his betrothal finally arrived.

  Xiao asked to go in the morning, with the excuse that he needed to bathe and dress. She believed him, but she didn’t trust him to follow through.

  “I let you go now, you’ll be drunk by evening.”

  He winked. “I’m reformed, Nanami. You’ve so moved me that I want to be a better man.”

  She’d snorted, though she wondered. He hadn’t asked for wine since she’d hidden the jug, and the side effects from withdrawal seemed to have abated. There was something driving him, something that had at least temporarily replaced his cravings.

  “I’ll return you to your original size, if you don’t teleport as soon as you’re able,” Nanami offered when the sky turned orange.

  “Why would I leave your side a moment before I must?”

  Fate, she pitied his betrothed. That mouth! Of course, kissing it might compensate for listening to it...

  She lifted the bamboo cage and sprinkled some nishikai powder. He quickly regained his full size.

  Xiao smiled at her, and Nanami waited for him to leave first, loathe to lose the smile that promised her everything.

  She didn’t expect Xiao to sweep a dirty blanket around her shoulders and snag her close. Nanami tri
ed to teleport then, but she couldn’t. He had bound her to him.

  “I’d like to formally invite you to my betrothal ceremony,” he told her with a chuck under the chin. Those lavender eyes sparkled with satisfaction. “There’s someone you need to point out to me.”

  Chapter 2: The Useless Betrothal

  JIN paused on the crown of the vermilion bridge that arched high over a pond to the pavilion at its center. The day was fine, as it always was at the Sun Palace, the water glistening silver in the bright light. The circular pavilion had a series of slender vermilion columns supporting its gold roof, all set on black stone that rose out of the pond. It had two bridges leading to shore, and Jin stood on the apex of one. From her vantage point, she could see the tea things were set on the round table, but instead of waiting on his stool, as he usually was, Aka stood next to a balustrade, his back to her. His dark red hair hung loose, reaching his waist, just a few shades deeper than his red silk robes. They were unusually plain, devoid of embroidery. She couldn’t see his face, but with the certainty she sometimes had regarding others, Jin knew he was pensive, caught in the past.

  It unsettled Jin to see Aka this way, not so much because of the darkness of his mood, albeit unusual, but because for the first time ever, she felt keenly aware of his age. Oh, she knew he was the oldest immortal, older even than her grandmother Neela, but while Neela’s hair was gray and her face lined, Aka didn’t even look old enough to be Jin’s father.

  After a moment, Jin continued down the bridge, though she began playing with the pink quartz beads hanging from her waist to wake her father from his reverie.

  He turned to face her and smiled, though his dark red eyes remained melancholy.

  “Ah, Sunlight Turns Petals Gold, you make my garden more beautiful every time you enter it.”

  Jin blushed at her full name and his compliment – a rosiness that was highly visible on her pale cheeks. Jin was the Goddess of Beauty, so she ought to be accustomed to such excessive compliments, but she had never heard them from her grandmother growing up. Her grandmother always said that Jin lacked her mother’s vivacity and that it was unfortunate she hadn’t inherited her coloring. Most people disagreed though – Jin’s brother Karana claimed she had looked perfectly adorable and elegant at every age.

  Jin’s hair was a warm chestnut, with hints of fire. Like her father, she wore it loose at present, with just two clips behind her ears as ornamentation so that it hung to her ankles. Her eyes were a gold so brilliant that no less than five famous poets had lyricized them, to Jin’s secret gratification. Secret because both her best friend, Xiao, and her grandmother had told her how ridiculous and embarrassing it was. She had delicate features in a heart-shaped face, and a delicate build with an hour-glass body. She just reached her father’s shoulder.

  Aka took her hands in his, and he kissed her lightly on the forehead. Then he led her to her stool and waited for her to arrange herself before sitting.

  Jin waited patiently as Aka heated the tea with his hand, added the bright green powder to the bowl, and whisked it to a froth. He filled two small cups with a ladle and handed one to Jin. She rotated it carefully in her hands, admiring the painted red horses that raced on its sides. She met her father’s eyes and smiled – she had given him this cup herself, when she had returned to the Sun Palace to live. They drank in silence; the tea was the perfect temperature, just hot enough to lend itself to small sips. It tasted of summer. Jin pictured the tea plant, growing on a mountainside, its vibrant leaves collecting sunlight so that Jin could taste it now.

  When she had swallowed her last sip, Jin placed her cup on the lacquer tray that held the serving bowl.

  “Tonight is your betrothal ceremony,” Aka noted. “Xiao has long been your closest friend. Will you be happy to marry him, Jin?”

  Jin was surprised by the question. Instead of answering, she asked, “Is that what was weighing on you earlier? You seemed so sad, Papa. Please, tell me what you were thinking about?”

  His dark red brows arched; his ruby-red eyes widened. Then he nodded slowly. “Yes, I was thinking of your betrothal – and another betrothal, a long time ago.”

  Jin waited patiently for him to find his thoughts.

  “The first time I saw your mother, she was attending a mortal festival. She was on a float pulled by two plain horses, and she was wearing simple mortal clothes, but she was the most riveting thing I had ever seen. She was playing a flute and dancing, you know – but it wasn’t just that which caught my attention. And it wasn’t just her beauty – there was something else, something intangible... power, perhaps. I asked a man, a mortal man, who she was, and he said, ‘Don’t you know the Goddess of Thought?’” Aka laughed. “I was wearing my glamour ring, you know, so as not to be recognized as the Sun Emperor.”

  Jin sat very still, hardly daring to breathe, afraid that he might change his mind and stop telling the story at any moment. Her father had never spoken to her of her mother before; no one had. Jin had asked Neela about her a few times, and Neela had shaken her head, unwilling to speak.

  “Aashchary,” her father murmured, then smiled, sad and far away. “She was willing to become my lover for a night, but she had no interest in joining my court, in marrying me.” He grew very quiet then, regret palpable, but Jin said nothing, hoping he would go on. Finally, her patience was rewarded.

  “I did something... I did something I will always regret. I used my power to make sure a baby came of our single union. She came here, heavily pregnant, and said she had changed her mind. I married her without delay, triumphant, thinking only of myself. And then...” he laid a hand over Jin’s. Their eyes met, and his were sadder than ever. “Well, you know your brother died in infancy.”

  Jin, afraid to touch his confession, asked only, “How did he die?”

  His hand tightened convulsively on hers. “Fever, from an insect bite. Haraa was summoned, but... After that, I spelled the entire palace to keep such pests out.”

  Jin frowned. “But it’s so rare that an immortal–”

  “Yes, it is. And your mother – it broke her heart. For a while, I thought she’d never recover.”

  Jin wanted to ask more questions, but with Aka’s pain so pronounced, she sat frozen with indecision.

  After a moment, Aka said, “She was so happy when you were born, Jin. Zi visited with Xiao – still a baby himself – and Aashchary joked that perhaps you’d fall in love and get married.” He smiled, his eyes still far away.

  “After your mother died, Neela suggested that we make a contract. Zi, Hei, and I were all agreeable – it was easy to see how close the two of you were. And yet...

  “You love him, but you never fell in love, have you?”

  Jin turned her hand under his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It is rare to find true love in a marriage. I can settle for a deep friendship.”

  Aka smiled, clearly pleased with her answer. Although her father could read most people’s feelings, he always accepted her words at face value. They went on to speak of trivialities – the beauty of the water lilies on the pond, the shapes of the clouds overhead. Jin treasured this time all the same. Neela had taken Jin from the Sun Palace when she was still a toddler, just a millennium old, and had not let her return until Jin reached adulthood and Aka had insisted it was time for Jin to take her rightful place as his daughter. She had seen Aka only a handful of times outside the Sun Palace – twice at New Moon Manor, and twice when he had visited Neela’s caravan.

  Aka again took her hands and kissed her forehead. “I love you, dear heart. I so want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy, Papa.”

  He smiled. "I want to preserve it then. That happiness is a gift to me – someday you will have children, and you will understand.” He handed her a red silk pouch, embroidered with dayflowers in brilliantly blue thread.

  “I had this made for your mother, for when your baby brother was born, but of course...any way, I held on to it, a
nd I thought you might like it.”

  Jin opened the pouch and pulled out a golden chain. A pendant half-turned twice before settling so she could study it.

  It was peacock, with sapphire feathers and carnelian “eyes” in its tail, all set in gold. No, not true gold, she realized after a moment, but that even more precious golden metal that could be made only by the God of War – she had a seemingly indestructible tessen made of the same material.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  She met Aka’s eyes and picked up that she reminded him of someone. Her mother, she supposed.

  Aka said, “The peacock was your mother’s symbol. She was very fond of those colors.” He kissed her forehead. “May fate smile on you, Jin.”

  Jin smiled and kissed his cheek. “And you also, Papa.”

  Then she left the imperial presence, walking back over the high arched bridge to the dark gravel path. The stones crunched pleasantly under her feet as she wove her way through the fanciful garden, a little brook gurgling happily out of sight. The red maples were blossoming, their flowers like tiny maroon fireworks clustered on dark branches. The path led her around her stepmother’s hall – she could see her youngest brother, Guleum, and his mother having tea inside – to the wall, a bulwark of stone and red plaster that was more than twice her height and nearly as thick.

  Two guardsmen opened the round wooden gates to allow Jin through. The wall had always bothered Jin – it was a thing of war, of danger. Just who did Aka think he was keeping out? Only the Sun Emperor himself could teleport anywhere within the Sun Palace, with the notable exception of each child’s own residence – there they had dominion over who could come and go. It wasn’t far from the gate to her residence, enclosed by its own walls, which Jin had painted with animals and plants in bright colors, inspired by stories from Jeevanti. Her own wooden gate, also richly painted, opened at her touch, and the sweet sound of two flutes in duet met her ears.