Nanami frowned. “If you don’t want your daughter to marry a sot, why don’t you just stop the betrothal?”
“There’s nothing I can do.” The flames lost their brilliant blue, and Nanami arched a brow in challenge.
“Very well,” amended the man, “there is nothing I am willing to do. The betrothal was arranged by my father, to strengthen the ties between our family and the drunk’s. It would be worse for my daughter if I intervened directly.”
The flames turned blue again, showing he believed his words.
“Very well, I can accept that. What are you willing to pay for this undertaking?”
“The means to complete it.” He offered her a yellow leather pouch, tooled with flowers. Nanami manipulated the bag for a moment – it was some sort of powder – and opened it gingerly. Although he could not have summoned her with malicious intent, anything valuable enough for her to accept as payment might be very volatile. The powder shimmered white in the firelight and smelled of the ocean.
Nanami’s eyes widened despite herself. “Nishikai powder? I haven’t had any of this in quite some time...”
“I would imagine not, given how angry your father must be with your vocation.”
Nanami’s lips thinned. “His loss is your gain.”
“Indeed,” replied her client lightly. “You’ll need to shrink the Infinite Jug to carry it away – it’s as high as your hip and must be at least twice your weight. But there is plenty of powder – what’s left is your payment. And the Jug itself, of course.”
Nanami nodded. “You are generous – which makes me wonder, what power does this sot have?”
“Nothing you need be concerned about.”
The flames stayed blue, but Nanami pursued it further. “This isn’t some petty squabble among minor immortals, not if you’re paying with nishikai powder.”
The man glared at her. She waited.
“He’s a god,” he conceded, “but only because he was born one. He is useless. He has been trained with a sword, but he is no warrior. He has no skills worth mentioning.” Still blue.
Nanami considered. There were at least a thousand gods, most of whom had far smaller spring of power than Nanami. And she could sympathize with this man and his daughter; she could well imagine the humiliation of a drunk groom, especially in an arranged marriage. That had been the silver lining of her estrangement, that she no longer need dread such a fate.
To her client, she nodded and said, “I’ll take the job. Describe the Infinite Jug in detail, please.”
XIAO dragged the Infinite Jug across the wrap-around porch of his favorite guest house. The massive black jug scratched the wide wooden planks, but his hostess wouldn’t care, and the jug was murder to lift. When the spigot overhung the edge of the porch, Xiao grabbed an earthenware cup that had been discarded in the shrubbery the day before. He rinsed it with the rice wine from the jug and dumped the cloudy yellow liquid and a decent amount of dirt on the ground. He then refilled his cup and took a swig.
Xiao’s father had made the Infinite Jug, and since he rarely drank himself, it was perhaps not surprising that the wine it dispensed wasn’t particularly good or strong alcohol. However, over the past millennium, Xiao had grown accustomed to it. Its comfortable taste eased the knots of Xiao’s stomach and helped him greet each morning.
Xiao woke up feeling anxious most days, which was stupid. There was nothing about which he needed to worry. He had relatively few worshippers and their prayers were usually easily answered. No one dared threaten him or give him a hard time about anything since his parents were second only to the Sun Emperor himself in power. He spent most of his days on Earth, frittering away the time. Sometimes he’d visit Jin at the Sun Palace, but she always grew tired of his company in less than a month.
Well, so, perhaps this morning his anxiety actually had an excuse. The formal betrothal ceremony for Jin and him was exactly a week from today. Xiao sighed and drained his cup.
He sat down on the wide wooden steps leading up to the pavilion, refilled his cup, and rested his back against the jug. He didn’t drink right away, instead looking up at the dawn sky through the branches overhead. They were only sparsely leafed this early in the spring, and the branches were silhouetted against the pink and blue sky. He knew they’d inspire Jin to write poetry or paint a picture or create some entirely new art form to record their beauty.
Xiao sipped at his drink again.
The first person who’d ever drunk with him was Jin. They’d both been adolescents, though Jin had already reached her full height and Xiao had been noticing for some time that other parts of her had been growing instead. Xiao, while taller than Jin, had been inches shorter than he was now and skinny as a reed. But after two cups, they’d both been rather giggly, and he’d decided to kiss her.
She’d turned her head at the last moment, so his lips had met her ear instead of her mouth.
“Don’t!” Jin had said very sternly, almost angrily, before getting up and walking away. The weird thing was, he’d never wanted to kiss her again after that day. Their relationship had never transitioned past friendship... or rather kinship because although they weren’t lovers, they were closer than friends.
Once the betrothal ceremony was held, that was it. They would have to get married or they’d lose both their magic and their immortality. If Xiao tried to kiss Jin now, would she still turn her face and order him not to?
He was more than half-convinced that she was asexual – as far he knew, she’d never even experienced sexual attraction. And if that was the case, maybe it was better that she marry him rather than anyone else because he’d love her anyway, but...
But that wasn’t what he wanted.
A hand fell on his shoulder, startling Xiao out of his reverie.
It was a male immortal with a youthful face. He grinned at Xiao and said, “You do start early, don’t you?”
Xiao smirked back, but the words hurt a little. Unlike the revelers who joined him wherever he went, he wasn’t drinking for fun. He was drinking because he couldn’t seem to stop. And yes, even though he pretended to be in control, to be indulging because he could, the little remarks that pointed to the truth were stings that only alcohol soothed.
“Want some?”
“Sure.” And the other man leaned forward and kissed Xiao slowly. He leaned back and said, rather smugly, “That’s enough for me.”
Xiao laughed, even though he didn’t really find it funny or charming. This man had a deep insecurity and craved Xiao’s approval. Just like last night, Xiao couldn’t deny him. For most of his life, he had been keenly aware of others’ wishes and desires, and he found it almost impossible not to appease them if he could. He was, after all, the God of Pleasure.
BY the time Nanami’s client left, dawn had stretched across the sky and the small fire had nearly burnt out. Although it was still chilly, she decided to change her clothes before leaving herself.
She transformed her dark blue cloak from Mos Lake into a simple woman’s kimono of the same color. She made it hang unusually low in back to reveal her dragon claw tattoo. That was a bit dishonest, since she was disowned and her father would not avenge her death, but enough people had them that it wouldn’t identify her, and her father was scary enough that it would protect her from casual violence. Besides, even though she didn’t like being lied to, Nanami wasn't above bending the truth if it made her own work easier.
She walked to the lake and scattered a handful of water on the kimono. Silver blossoming plum branch embroidery appeared where the drops fell. Nanami removed her outer clothes, streaky gray trousers and wraparound shirt that were excellent for cat-burglary but ill-suited for socializing. She released her mid-length navy hair from her usual half-up twist and combed it out with her fingers. From the pockets in her knee-length underpants, she took out a hair stick with a small, green-enameled waterlily on the end and used it to pin her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. She
drew the kimono over her underclothes and checked the lay to make sure her forearm sheaths and the throwing stars wrapped on her stomach were not immediately obvious. Being too blatant with one’s weapons brought the wrong kind of attention. Nanami tied her spare clothes into a neat bundle on the end of a long stick.
With a grin, Nanami teleported.
Her excitement lent her strength – she spent only twenty or so minutes between before she reappeared on a dirt road surrounded by trees with budding leaves. A few hundred miles south of Mos Lake, the air was warmer and smelled of spring. It would take her about three hours to walk to the Wood Pavilions, where her client was sure his prospective son-in-law was squandering his time. Enjoying the weather and the scenery, Nanami whistled an old bawdy song as she walked.
After a half an hour, she heard a cart approaching behind her, and Nanami moved to the side.
“Hello, Lady,” called the mortal driver, a farmer by the looks of him. He slowed the donkey as they came abreast of her. “Headed to the Pavilion?”
“You have a keen eye, Uncle,” Nanami said, acknowledging that she was indeed an immortal. The Wood Pavilions belonged to Haraa the Warden. Like Nanami’s father, Haraa was one of the Nine Colors and very powerful. Unlike Nanami’s father, Haraa had no ambition and no formality – the Wood Pavilions were where immortals and gods congregated on Earth for an endless celebration. There was only one rule: Don’t damage the flora. It was not without its dangers, but Nanami enjoyed it.
“If you’d like, Lady, you could ride next to me.”
Nanami smiled broadly. “Blessings on your house, Uncle, for your kindness.” Like most immortal blessings, Nanami’s wasn’t worth much, but some mortals liked to collect them just the same. She was happy to offer it in exchange for a ride. The farmer stopped the cart and Nanami climbed on the back.
“I thought I recognized the tune you were whistling,” said the farmer as the donkey resumed pulling. “Was it the Moon and Night’s Monks?”
“Uncle has a good ear!”
He laughed. “I used to know all thirty verses! Let me see, how does the chorus go...
A silly lady’s vow, a foolish man’s word
No more would they plow, to please their Lords.
But were their Lords pleased? No, not a bit.
Not a bit, not a bit.
For what pleases the Moon, and what pleases the Night,
But two souls in a swoon, a tup in moonlight?”
Nanami laughed. “Well sung!”
The farmer grinned widely. “I always loved that story.”
“What man doesn’t?” asked Nanami dryly, and the farmer laughed.
“No, no, it’s not the earthiness – I mean, maybe when I was a youth, but not now. I like how the monks are so sure they have to sacrifice their pleasure, but then the Moon and Night deities want the opposite. People always think they have to punish themselves – to suffer – to be worthy, but to my thinking the world is better when we’re happy and loved.”
Nanami smiled faintly. “A romantic, Uncle?”
He laughed again. “You’ve caught me! Been married twenty-six years, and still think my wife’s the prettiest woman on Earth.”
Nanami was envious. She was nearly twenty-six thousand years old, and she had never felt that way about anyone. “Then maybe I should pray to the Moon Goddess, too.”
The man shook his head. “Actually, I prayed to her son.”
“The God of Pleasure?” Nanami asked in disbelief.
“Yup – I was still just looking for a good time, rather than marriage and love, but I swear he brought me to my wife. I still thank him every prayer day – I say a good dose of pleasure is what any marriage needs.”
“Hmm.” The God of Pleasure was all about sex. It made an odd sort of sense, she supposed, since his parents, the Moon Goddess and the Night God, were the patrons of romantic love. They had invented marriage, oh, almost fifty thousand years ago. But Nanami didn’t like sex. She had gotten rid of her virginity after being disowned – an immature attempt to spite her father – and she had never seen fit to repeat the experience. “Thanks for the tip,” she told the farmer, even as she thought she’d never pray to such a god.
They continued to talk about nothing and everything – the farmer was quite the philosopher – and it wasn’t long before they reached the Wood Pavilions. Nanami could see the famous curved green roofs above the trees, but raucous laughter and joyful music would have told her just as clearly.
“Thank you, again, Uncle,” she told the farmer as he stopped the cart. “Blessings on you and your wife.” He waved and left.
Nanami left the road to follow a gravel path that wound beneath the trees. The air smelled green, it was so overwhelmingly lush here. Up ahead, she could hear the happy gurgling of a brook, which the path soon met at a bench with several long-handled drinking cups. The water ran fast and clear, so Nanami took one and reached down to fill it in the brook. The water tasted of spring and metal. She found herself smiling as she set the cup back on the bench.
Not much further along the path, Nanami met her first group of partygoers. The three immortal women were scantily dressed and smelled of alcohol, so she asked them where to get a cup of rice wine on the chance it would lead to the Infinite Jug. One of them shoved a clay cup at her with a giggle. “Here, have mine – I can get more from Xiao.”
“Xiao?” asked Nanami.
“Xiao is the best!” said another. “He always gives wine to everyone! And he’s so handsome. I hope he’ll take us to bed soon.”
Nanami deliberately spilled all the wine she had been offered as she accepted it from the woman’s hand. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll refill it, if you’ll just point me in the right direction.”
“We’ll take you ourselves! We need more anyway,” said the woman.
The Wood Pavilions were a maze. There were about thirty of them, spread out over fifty wooded acres, linked by gravel paths and stone bridges. There were streams and ponds and large boulders throughout the wild gardens, and the whole thing was laid out in a haphazard manner, Haraa adding pavilions whenever her guests filled the current ones. The pavilions themselves ranged from one to four stories, and their styles varied widely, though they all featured the green copper roofs that Nanami had seen from the road.
Winding along these paths with three silly women stretched Nanami’s patience. They were very tipsy and took several loops, but she was playing the role of someone with nowhere better to be. Finally the four of them reached a three-story pavilion with a massive earthenware jar on the porch. It was an ugly thing, unglazed and dirty, remarkable only for the clever spigot near its base, that could be stoppered and unstoppered by the twist of a handle. It matched the description she’d received. People were helping themselves to the wine while watching two men wrestle in a small pond. They were topless and their wet trousers clung to their legs. They were both laughing as they splashed about and generally made a mess. Nanami almost called out to them to mind the waterlilies, for it would bring Haraa’s wrath down on all of them if they ripped a flower, but one of them seemed particularly mindful of this, and kept his rival from doing any harm.
Nanami watched that man for a long time; she was a little embarrassed to admit she found him excessively appealing. He was well-muscled, and his hair was long and deepest black. He had a rich, merry laugh that made her laugh too – everyone seemed to find it equally engaging, as most of the crowd joined in. And when he laughed, two deep dimples appeared in his full cheeks as his eyes were lost beneath fat lids. With a high, pointed nose and expressive, full lips, every one of his features was almost a caricature of itself, and yet they balanced each other into a face of unparalleled charm and good will. Nanami could not imagine anyone disliking this man.
“Who is that?” she asked one of her tipsy guides.
“Oh, that’s Xiao! It’s his wine jug,” the girl trilled. “We’re all in love with him. But don’t worry, he spread
s his favors quite generously among anyone who wants them.”
Although it wasn’t totally confirmed, Nanami was sure that Xiao was going to be betrothed to her client’s daughter in a week’s time. The thought upset her, almost as much as the idea of him “spreading his favors” annoyed her. Swift on the heels of those emotions came irritation for feeling them.
Nanami decided to fade back, to observe rather than engage. But just then, Xiao succeeded in dunking his opponent. He stepped out of the pond, and several admirers rushed him. It should have been easy to slip away in the excitement, but Xiao looked directly at her and smiled.
Nanami was familiar with social smiles and children’s smiles; smiles of amusement and self-deprecating smiles. This smile though... this smile was just for her. It snatched her breath and made her heartbeat faster. It was utterly ridiculous; it was embarrassing. She couldn’t move. This smile promised love, unconditional, life-changing love, the type Nanami craved so badly that she had denied all interest in it.
Beneath those lazy fat lids, his lavender eyes never left her own as he made his way effortlessly through the crowd to her.
“Hello,” he said, and his voice reminded Nanami of lying under the stars while sweet potatoes roasted in the coals. “Please, call me Xiao. Who might you be?”
“I’m–” Nanami just caught herself from making a proper introduction. “I’m not interested,” she barked, and immediately regretted the words. His thick black brows climbed his forehead.
“Not Interested?” he repeated. “An unusual name.”
The crowd at his back laughed merrily, and Nanami’s face burned. She almost teleported away right then. Thankfully she caught herself – Nanami knew she wouldn’t have enough power to return today.
“Please,” he said, waving to a path, “won’t you walk with me a way? Perhaps you can explain what you aren’t interested in?” His smile was gone, but his solemn gaze was no less appealing.
Vows of Gold and Laughter (The Immortal Beings Book 1) Page 3