Xiao clapped a hand on Guleum’s shoulder. His servants stiffened, though the young god seemed unperturbed by the contact.
“Little Gu! Are you old enough to drink yet? Why don’t you join me, and I’ll tell you all about it?” Xiao might not want to believe Guleum had cursed the Sun Emperor, but he was still a possibility.
Guleum grinned. “I’ve got something stronger in mind than spirits – mortal dreams! Why don’t you join me?”
Xiao didn’t have to fake his stumble, he was so surprised. “Mortal dreams, you say? You already have worshippers on Earth?”
Guleum shook his head. “Don’t need ‘em. You can buy your pick of dreams at the Godsmarket for next to nothing.”
Xiao couldn’t completely keep his disgust from his face, but Guleum, with the self-absorption of adolescence, didn’t notice.
When a worshipper had a dream that was pertinent to their god, it came to the god’s house just like a prayer. However, while prayers tended to be deliberate and limited to words, dreams were an immersive experience that often revealed subconscious desires. Xiao personally had ignored mortal dreams for almost five hundred years – he believed that some things should not be shared, even with a god.
That some gods sold their follower’s dreams offended him deeply.
Xiao dredged up a lazy smile and said, “Lead on, Gu.”
The Godsmarket was arrayed between the West and North Gates. Its canopied stalls lined either side of a broad brick avenue. The stalls themselves were of gold and silver, the silk awnings vibrantly and expertly dyed. There was no shouting, no hawking goods, instead just the plaintive song of several stringed instruments. Everyone seemed to know exactly what was sold where – Guleum certainly did. He walked boldly to a stall of silver with a multi-colored canopy. The symbol for dream was etched into the metal and colored candles of various shapes stood in neat rows. The seller was a grim-faced woman dressed in all black – Xiao supposed she must be a disciple of his father, who took a percentage from the sale of dreams, as the God of Night.
Guleum clapped his hands in delight. “I’ll take four of the white-threaded-red. The wolf, the two swords, and the snake.”
There were many white-threaded-red, almost a quarter of the table. “What do the colors mean?” Xiao asked.
“It indicates the type of dream,” Guleum told him. “These ones are adventure – lots of fighting. The shape of the candle is a kind of preview.” The seller made no comment, though the question had been intended for her. She wrapped the four candles that Guleum had chosen in thin rice paper and placed them in a bag. She then held out a glass vial and a needle.
“Two drops each.”
Guleum frowned. “It was only one drop last time.”
“If you don’t want them...”
Guleum stabbed his thumb and squeezed eight drops of blood into the vial. Xiao stiffened. Only a young idiot like Guleum would think their blood “next to nothing.” Xiao wasn’t sure exactly what could be done with it, but his father had once lectured him about never letting another immortal have any blood, hair, or spit from his body saying they could use it to gain influence over him. Xiao watched Guleum hand the vial back to the merchant and considered snatching it or knocking it to the ground.
Guleum blithely wiped his thumb, still bleeding sluggishly, on his robe’s collar, probably ruining the complex geometric embroidery.
“Do you want anything, Xiao?” asked Guleum. He started explaining the genres of the different colors – an olive green with yellow specks for food, a pearlescent pink for flying, purple for falling in love, purple-and-black for sex -
Xiao lost his struggle to maintain his tipsy-and-relaxed facade. He grabbed a purple-and-black candle shaped like a man’s torso, ignoring the merchant’s protest.
“Where did you get this?” he demanded.
The merchant crossed her arms. “That’s privileged information. If you aren’t paying, give it back.”
Xiao leaned forward. “I am the God of Pleasure, and this belongs to me. You will tell me where you got it now.”
Sweat beaded on the woman’s brow. “I will not answer–”
Xiao crushed the wax torso in his hand. “You will answer.”
“What is going on here?” demanded a new voice, calm and sure. Xiao half-turned and found five Sun Guards surrounding them, their gold armor gleaming over red tunics.
“Nothing, nothing,” Guleum put in, his face pale. “It’s the God of Pleasure, he’s just a bit drunk.”
The Sun Guards relaxed slightly as they recognized Guleum and Xiao. “Divinity, if you’d please–”
Belligerent drunk? So be it. Xiao let his chin jut and swept his hands out, knocking over the candles that were so carefully aligned on the table. “These candles are made of my worshippers’ dreams. They belong to me. You should be hasslin’ her, not me! Find out how she got ‘em!”
The guards looked doubtfully at each other. The merchant shifted her weight from foot to foot, her lips folded uneasily.
The lieutenant turned back to Xiao, his hands raised placatingly. “Divinity, we will confiscate the goods in question and open an inquiry. Would that – satisfy you?”
Xiao could hear the words he reconsidered – would that calm you down? “You’re takin’ ‘em? How can I trust you?”
“Divinity,” the lieutenant said, clearly shocked. “We are the Imperial Sun Guards.”
“Oh, so you never have a little extra fun with the goods you seize?” Xiao sneered.
The lieutenant’s expression hardened. “If you prefer, we can take you and the goods together.”
“Oh, no, no, surely that isn’t necessary,” put in Guleum. He was sweating like he’d run a mile. “C’mon, Xiao, let the guards do their job. You can talk to my brother later if you aren’t happy with the outcome.”
“He can talk to me now,” came Gang’s deep rumble. The God of War was flanked by two more of his men – this little section of the market had become impassable. Despite Gang’s offer, he looked toward his lieutenant, not Xiao. “What’s all this?”
“The God of Pleasure believes this woman to illegally be selling his worshippers’ dreams.”
“Then confiscate the dreams in question and begin an inquiry.”
The lieutenant flushed. “I was trying, divinity, but the God of Pleasure–”
Gang waved a hand, cutting the man off. “I will deal with him.” And one of Gang’s over-sized hands closed on Xiao’s forearm.
As angry as he was, Xiao made no objection beyond a scowl.
“See you later,” he told Guleum as Gang towed him away.
Xiao was hauled into a spartan office, featuring only a plain desk made of a dark wood. There were no windows, but several glowing yellow sconces were mounted on the walls. Gang dismissed his disciples and watched Xiao through narrow eyes until the sounds of the guards’ footsteps had faded away.
“You’re drunk?” Gang demanded.
It was probably unwise, but Xiao was sick of everyone treating him like a fool. “How could I be, when you hired a thief to steal the Infinite Jug?”
Gang’s nostrils flared at “hired a thief,” but otherwise his face remained impassive. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Of course Gang wouldn’t admit it readily. “I captured the thief and consulted a diviner,” he drawled.
A vein popped by Gang’s left eye.
Xiao swallowed but persevered. “I can’t believe you didn’t bother with a disguise – even if the diviner hadn’t confirmed your identity, I could have just from Nanami’s description. Who knows you cuckolded–”
Gang slammed Xiao against the wall, one hand grasping the front of his robes, the other covering his mouth.
Gang closed his eyes. Xiao would have thought he was praying except – well, to whom would he pray?
After a few moments, Gang released him. Xiao nearly fell but caught himself on the wall.
�
��We may speak freely now. You said,” Gang rumbled, “that you were going to help Jin on her quest. Why are you here?”
“Jin doesn’t need me for a bodyguard, not with Bai following her like a lost puppy. I’m here to identify her enemy, make a proactive strike.”
Gang looked surprised, his bushy eyebrows lifted, his mouth an O in his fierce beard. If he weren’t still so scared, Xiao would have laughed at the expression.
“Bai – what nonsense are you spouting?”
Xiao shrugged. “You know,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “your old teacher. White-hair, likes to go around shirtless.”
Gang took a seat behind the desk. After a moment, a red patch on the floor rose up, creating a stool, and he waved Xiao to it.
“If you talk about your suspicions to anyone, I will take your tongue,” Gang announced, as he lowered his hands.
“If you won’t admit to being her father, are you going to confess to attacking her?”
Gang’s massive hands immediately became fists, and Xiao felt more confident he had the right brother. “What attack? Describe it clearly.”
“An immortal chucked two throwing stars at Jin. Cut her cheek. Luckily, it wasn’t too bad.”
Gang released his breath; he must really care about Jin. “I promised that I would protect Jin to the best of my ability. I meant it.”
Xiao nodded slowly. Then, “Protecting Jin doesn’t mean you aren’t working with whoever cursed the Sun Emperor.”
Gang snorted. “I am not working with my siblings – indeed, I am preparing for the civil war that will surely come when he dies.”
Xiao stiffened. “That’s why you didn’t suspect Jin – not that load about her beautiful soul. You said, the more blood the curser shares, the stronger the curse. And so you knew the curse hadn’t been cast by a grandchild. But that means... even if she gets the black peony, could she lift the curse?”
Something flickered in Gang’s gold eyes – for the first time Xiao was struck by how similar they were to Jin’s and yet how little their expressions had in common. “Magic is unpredictable.”
Xiao sneered. “So you don’t think so.” He rubbed his face. “Jin will be devastated.”
“Don’t tell her,” Gang ordered. “She’s far from court. It is safer than here, where she will surely return if she knows the quest is fruitless.”
“So everything you said, how she is more powerful than she knows...”
“If I were lying, she would have known. There were simply other factors I chose not to mention.”
Xiao stared at Gang’s stony expression and felt suddenly afraid. “What are you going to do to me?”
Gang watched him silently.
“It’s not a good idea to kill me.”
A small humorless smile twisted Gang’s lips. “Isn’t it though? I don’t think your parents would mind.”
“Jin would,” Xiao asserted.
“But she doesn’t want to marry you,” Gang pointed out.
“No, but I’m her best friend.” Xiao’s hands fisted in his lap. He remembered how quickly Bai had disarmed him. Did he stand a chance against Gang if it came to a fight right now?
Gang sighed, and his whole face drooped. “I’m not going to kill you, Xiao. Believe it or not, I hate killing. I only use it as a last resort. You’re here to glean information on my siblings; fine, that suits me, as long as you share what you learn. That being said, I need some insurance.”
“Insurance?”
“I will accept a pledge of obedience.”
Xiao stiffened. His immortality, his powers, gone if he ever went against Gang’s orders? He had no thought of thwarting the God of War, but if civil war were coming, how could he subjugate himself to another man?
And yet, did he have any other choice? Did death or imprisonment await him if he refused? Xiao remembered the long hours of his childhood, locked in his room. And yet, even then, he was still an autonomous being, not a puppet.
And I would rather be physically chained than have my free will overruled. And if Gang plans my death... well, I will fight until the end.
“No. I already have one vow hanging over my head that I want to break – I’m not making another.”
Gang laughed bitterly. “You’re wiser than I was at your age.”
Then his hand darted out and seized Xiao’s wrist. Quicker than the eye could follow, he pricked Xiao’s thumb with a dagger and squeezed three drops of blood from it. They fell on a white sheet of paper below it. Gang released his hand.
“I will accept these instead of a vow. You may go.”
Xiao rubbed his thumb uneasily, but he stayed seated. Gang cocked his head. “I would have thought you’d scurry from my office.”
Xiao grit his teeth at Gang’s disdain, but managed, “I have other business with you. You said your men will investigate the dreams. I’m supposed to just leave it there?”
Gang’s gold eyes bored into him. “Do you really not know who’s selling them?”
Xiao flushed – Gang acted like he was an idiot or a child or both. “How would I?”
“Affinity. Not just anyone could collect those and distill them for sale. In fact, given what you are, there are only two people, working together, who could manage it.”
Xiao’s heart was in his throat. “I see.” I suppose I knew it was them, didn’t I – that’s why I was so angry. “It still violates the Sun Emperor’s second edict – no god may pretend to be another.”
Gang arched one of his bushy brows, in a way that reminded Xiao of Bai. “So you want me to arrest your parents?”
Xiao squeezed his hands together. “Could you?”
Gang’s barking laugh made Xiao twitch. “Possibly. But not without great risk.”
“I’ll deal with it myself,” Xiao said, not sure if he was lying.
“RISE, faithful one, and meet your seniors.”
Nanami did not immediately process the words. She was too uncomfortable for true sleep, but she had entered a trance-like state where her hunger, thirst, and discomfort could be held at a distance. However, a foot nudged her elbow, and she abruptly realized her petition had been accepted.
She attempted to rise, only to discover her limbs were stiff and painful. She felt needles all over. Two sets of hands grasped her by the shoulders, and she was brought to her feet.
There were three disciples present, all women, though she wouldn’t have noted it if not for Xiao’s comments. They were dressed in the uniform of justice, white saris edged in with crimson and bodices of the same color. Between that, their identical expressions, and neatly bound dark hair, it was difficult to distinguish them, even though their faces and builds really weren’t that similar.
The disciple who wasn’t helping her stand offered Nanami a white porcelain cup, which Nanami accepted gratefully. It held warm water, slightly sweetened with honey. Nanami forced herself to drink it slowly.
“I am Aarti, the third disciple of her divinity, the Goddess of Justice. This is Nika, the forty-second disciple,” the woman to Nanami’s right inclined her head, “and Eun-ji, the forty-eighth disciple,” the woman to Nanami’s left bowed. Aarti retrieved the cup. “What are you called?”
Nanami had to cough once to summon her voice. “Nana.”
“Are you able to walk?”
Hesitantly, Nanami let her weight settle on her feet and took a few steps.
“Good,” Aarti smiled in approval. “Welcome to the Sun Court, Nana.”
The disciples moved slowly out of consideration for her, giving Nanami plenty of time to absorb the sights of the Sun Palace. Passing through the East Gate’s water illusion, they entered a grassy park cut by broad, straight paths and neatly trimmed boxwoods. Despite it being spring, Nanami saw no flowers. Directly ahead was a rusty red building, and behind it was an immense vermillion wall.
“Those are the kitchens,” murmured Eun-ji. “The wall encloses the imperial residence. She pointed
to the left, where Nanami could just make out colorful roofs past rolling hills. “Those are where guests stay, if they are not invited into the main residence of their host.”
The four of them went the opposite direction. The path passed a wall painted with wild swirls of red and white, evoking flames.
“The God of Destruction’s residence.”
When they came even with another wall of red and white, this one painted with mandalas of recursive squares, the ladies paused. “This is our lady’s residence. Her first twenty disciples, including Aarti, live within. You, Nika, and I live in the servants’ quarters just ahead.” Nanami could see more rust-red buildings.
“Usually you will eat with us there, but your first meal will be in our lady’s home. Nika and I will wait for you here.”
Nanami looked to Aarti, who waited a few steps ahead – impatient, Nanami thought. Nanami stumbled a little as she hurried to catch up. In front of a large white door featuring red starburst medallions, Aarti bowed from the waist, so Nanami did the same, stifling a groan as she did so. The door swung open.
The inside of Salaana’s residence was austere and almost frightening. If it took any aesthetic from Jeevanti, it was the Shubra Desert, which Nanami had seen only once, briefly, by her own preference. Carefully raked sand filled the open spaces, accented by gray stepping stones and carved benches, several of which were occupied by more of the uniformed disciples. Nanami had to fight the impulse to run through the neat lines of sand and spray it on the focused disciples.
Aarti led the way over the stones to the largest structure, a rather humble building of untreated wood, and indicated they should remove their shoes. When they entered, Nanami gasped in surprised pleasure. Contrary to her expectations, the interior was simple and homey. The floor was tatami mats and there were blue and white zabuton cushions stacked in the corner. Like any wealthy Jeevanti home, there was an inner courtyard but this one featured a large koi pond with a bamboo fountain. The fish themselves were the only red Nanami saw. They were rather small, but all were splotched with red and white.
Aarti cocked her head. “You are from the Crescent Moon, aren’t you? What do you think of the space?”
Vows of Gold and Laughter (The Immortal Beings Book 1) Page 18
