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

by Edith Pawlicki

“And Guleum, God of Wind,” added Jin, “but he’s not a threat. I suppose we should hope he is the curser, except that would be too upsetting.”

  “Mmm,” agreed Xiao.

  “Why are you sure it’s not Gang?” asked Bai.

  “He told me so. Truth has an intrinsic beauty; it chimes sweetly to my ear. When someone is lying or misdirecting, it sounds dissonant. He swore to me that he did not cast the spell.”

  Nanami thought that over slowly. “Even if he didn’t cast the spell, he might still know who did.”

  Jin’s eyes widened, and she bit her lower lip.

  “But Gang also promised to protect Jin,” added Xiao.

  “If he intends on moving against us, it cannot be immediately,” Jin added.

  “Unless you already have what he wants – the key to the Underworld,” suggested Nanami. “Maybe he needs it and knew you would be able to fetch it. After all, you were the only one of us who could enter the garden – well, at first.”

  “The key to entering the garden was simply clarity of purpose. Gang could enter himself, if he wanted. But only Cheng should have been able to find that passage. And you don’t even know who he is...”

  “They’re too young,” Nanami said. “Cheng disappeared – oh, a little after you did. I’ve never heard a reason why nor rumor of his whereabouts.”

  Bai looked away from the group, and Nanami thought he must be worried for his old friend.

  “To get back to our plans,” Jin interjected, “if you are both willing to proceed despite the risk, we need to figure out how we’ll pay for our passage.”

  “Well, if we are trying to pass as mortals, gold is good,” said Nanami. “Just about anything the traders can sell, but we’ll want small items of high value if we’re persuading them to prioritize speed.”

  “I didn’t bring much we can use,” Jin admitted. “Xiao -?” He shook his head.

  “Surely you could go home to get something,” said Nanami.

  “Ah, no, I won’t be returning home any time soon.”

  To Nanami’s surprise, it was Bai who nodded knowingly, not Jin.

  “Could you steal something?” Jin asked Nanami.

  “I never steal from mortals,” said Nanami, a little more harshly than she intended. Jin cocked her head, and Nanami knew her claim hadn’t passed Jin’s truth test. “Not anymore, anyway,” she amended. She cleared her throat. “But I know a way we can make a lot of money quickly. There’s an inn not far from us that caters to Zhongtuese nobles in exile. It has some of the highest stakes gambling around, and we’ll be able to find passage there as well.”

  “I know it,” said Xiao. “The White Tiger, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” agreed Nanami. “It’s been around about fifty years. You’ve been there?”

  “Mmm, I have a temple nearby.”

  “But we don’t have money,” Jin said. “How can we participate in high stakes gambling?”

  Nanami grinned. “We don’t need to gamble – you and I will be luck-bringers.”

  “That could work,” said Xiao.

  Sensing Jin’s puzzlement, Nanami explained how gamblers, particularly those who played high stakes, liked to have pretty women on their arm to bring them luck. “It’s customary for them to split their winnings with you, a percentage agreed on beforehand. With your beauty, you’ll be in high demand.”

  Jin’s smile looked nervous.

  AFTER five days of travel, the four companions reached Bailaohu Village on the southern slope of the White Mountain, nestled in a curve of the Kuanbai River. The village had less than four hundred locals; it had sprung up to support a temple – Xiao’s apparently – and then later, the White Tiger Inn. Even if Nanami and Xiao had not been there as guides, Bai would have immediately gone to the inn. It was by far the largest building. It was quite sparse, made of rough-cut wood with no ornamentation – a typical mortal dwelling, Bai believed. He had asked Jin if she was itching to tweak its appearance. To his surprise, she had replied, “No, I like it very much. Its rusticity is appealing.”

  She had turned to face Bai fully and smiled at him. “Actually, there is beauty in most things, and it is the infinite variety that allows us to see it.”

  Bai had been thinking about that since, but he wasn’t sure he saw the beauty here. The inn’s one story sprawled lazily, haphazardly from its sizable common room with no clear thought of aesthetic or function. The windows were small and high and covered with animal skins, making it necessary to burn lamps nearly all day.

  One side of the common room led to the courtyard kitchen, where large iron kettles swung over smoky fires. The common room was filled with low tables, perhaps originally intended for food, but the exiles had found a different purpose: gambling. Most tables were covered by hand carved tiles, their rapid clicking standing in for conversation. A few had carved boards with small balls where players went heads-up, though they attracted crowds of spectators. Bai had thought he had a good grasp of mortal gambling from knowing generations of fighters, and he was fairly sure the tile game was a descendant of one he had known, but the play here had little in common with the casual games of the battlefield.

  In addition to the exiles, who were mostly men, there were many luck-bringers of the type Nanami had described. Bai suspected “luck” was not all they were selling. He hoped, although it was hardly his business, that Jin would not join them in offering more.

  When they had introduced themselves to the innkeeper, he had been pleased to see both Bai’s guzheng and the two ladies.

  “Music makes the nobles less surly,” he’d told Bai, “And there are always more men than women,” he told the ladies. He’d frowned at Xiao. “What do you do?”

  Xiao had grinned. “Drink.”

  Nanami had laughed, “Always a joker, our Bhuti. He’s our guard.” The innkeeper had shrugged in reply.

  Then they had split three ways: Jin and Nanami disappeared into a room to wash, Xiao – actually, Bai wasn’t sure where he’d gone – and Bai began setting up in the common room.

  Bai had a good view of the proceedings from a raised wooden stage in the corner. He sat, tuning his guzheng. It seemed almost obscene to be coaxing its strings to perfect harmony for this lot, tipsy mortals more interested in the tiles before them than music. So he bent his head over it, ignoring the room. He could always play for himself, and the innkeeper had agreed to pay him a silver piece on top of whatever tips he earned. Bai was willing to contribute that money to the hiring of a boat, even though he had silently withheld other aid from his travelling companions – for example, they didn’t need to know that they could reach Mount Korikami (or the Korikami’s Tomb, as Jin had called it) by cloud in a mere week. After all, this wasn’t his quest and he wasn’t worried about Kunjee anymore, not now that Jin had “fixed” it. If anyone somehow seized it and travelled into the Underworld – well, the Underworld was a far bigger threat to them than vice-versa. He was really travelling with them because he wanted to understand Jin.

  A commotion broke his focus, and Bai looked up from the guzheng and saw that Nanami and Jin had entered the common room. Both had availed themselves of wash water to scrub away the grime of travel and wore relatively simple robes that Bai and Nanami had created and Jin had altered. There the similarities ended. Nanami wore extravagant makeup and a knowing smile. She immediately garnered attention and was quickly drawn away from Jin and into negotiations as a luck-bringer.

  Jin looked beautiful, of course, her face free of makeup and her expression shy. But for the first time, Bai didn’t think she looked alluring. Instead, he found himself comparing her to a frozen waterfall – nice to look at, not to touch.

  Bai frowned – that thought did not originate with him. A frozen waterfall? He wasn’t sure he had even seen one. Jin was manipulating perceptions again – she didn’t want the gamblers to find her appealing. The minutes wore on, and it became very clear that no one intended to ask her to
be their luck.

  Bai began to play his first song, and the din quieted. He had been wrong – these exiles appreciated the music more than the tiles after all. When he looked up from the strings, it was to find Jin watching him, her joy in his play making her seem more approachable. Almost before he realized what he intended, Bai stood, got off the stage and walked to her.

  “You must sing or dance – or perhaps play the flute? Why don’t you join me?” he suggested.

  Jin’s lips parted before blooming into a smile. “I would love to. I am a better dancer than musician, although I have some skill in both.”

  “What do you like to dance to?”

  Jin glanced over the crowd. “Do you know ‘Lost Sands’?”

  Bai shook his head. “I’ve never heard of it – I don’t suppose you know any old music?”

  Jin blinked. “But ‘Lost Sands’ is old. It’s popular in the Sun Court, and I think it was written more than thirty millennia ago.”

  “Hum it for me.”

  The sweet, fast melody caught Bai off guard. He had written it himself, or at least the antecedent. He had called it, “Noran’s Song.” Lost sand, indeed, he thought sadly. “I know it after all,” he told her.

  “Oh, wonderful! It’s my favorite song,” she told him, and Bai was absurdly pleased.

  Soon he was glad that he could play this particular tune effortlessly, for it allowed him to watch Jin.

  At first she exhibited the same control and power as a martial artist, slow movements, full of nuance and intention. Her silk scarf became an extension of her – no, more like it took on a life of its own, dancing at the end of her arm as if in duet. As the melody shifted, and Bai’s fingers danced over the guzheng strings at an almost frenetic pace, her movements sped up as well. Still subtle, still controlled, but with a rawness, a passion that Bai would have frowned on in a soldier. Some of the audience began to throw coins at the stage in appreciation – that was why Bai did not notice the throwing star until after it sliced Jin’s cheek just below her left eye.

  Chapter 6: A Drink, a Diviner, and a Decision

  NANAMI was enjoying the White Tiger Inn. A rather handsome, slightly intoxicated mortal had agreed to give her a fourth of his winnings in exchange for setting his arm about her waist and her tapping his tiles for good luck. She had never been a good luck charm before, but she was embracing her attraction as a woman, and she rather liked it. She had felt bad when no one had invited Jin to be theirs, and she couldn’t understand why. Jin looked so perfectly beautiful that Nanami hadn’t even been able to bring herself to apply makeup to her face. Anything she added would have simply detracted.

  But then Bai had invited Jin to dance, which she did well, and several members of the crowd were throwing coins to them. So Nanami leaned a little into the mortal, enjoying his warm, strong arm and the fact he so clearly found her appealing.

  Suddenly Bai stopped playing, mid-song if Nanami wasn’t mistaken. She glanced to the stage and saw Jin holding her golden tessen, its ribs spread. The hairs on the back of Nanami’s neck stood up, and she scanned the crowd. What had they seen?

  Bai resumed playing with a different song, and Nanami supposed Jin was dancing again as the people began to throw more coins. A young man of delicate build who certainly looked like a Zhongtuese noble caught Nanami’s attention – his face was bored, but his body was ready for action. As she watched, he also threw something at the stage – a shuriken, not a coin.

  Nanami pulled away from her patron, but he caught her back.

  “Hey, you can’t leave,” he said. “I’m in the middle of a game.”

  “Oh, I just need...” she hesitated. If she said to relieve herself, why would she walk deeper into the crowd? “I want to talk to my friend...”

  “The dancer? She’s busy. You can talk when the game ends, and I don’t need you anymore.” He hauled her roughly back into his lap, and Nanami found those arms a lot less appealing. She looked back to the young man, but he was gone. Teleported? Or just disappeared into the crowd?

  Nanami shoved at the arm. “I need to talk to my friend. It’ll just be a moment.” She had a dagger up her sleeve, but she was loath to escalate the matter.

  Suddenly, though the music continued, Jin was there. “Is everything alright?”

  Nanami looked up at Jin and noted the tiny cut across her left cheekbone.

  The mortal scowled at Jin, no more inclined to listen to her than Nanami. “It’s fine. Don’t tell me you ladies would break a deal?”

  Jin’s hand tightened on her tessen. Nanami decided to switch gears. She giggled. “Oh, that’s alright. Jin, I just wanted to tell you that I saw that young noble who kissed your cheek in the crowd – he was wearing blue and gray. If you hurry, you might catch him. There, see that’s all I wanted to tell her – I am happy to be your luck, sir.”

  Jin frowned; Nanami knew her lie must have sounded flat.

  “I saw him leave – very quickly when he saw me,” Jin told Nanami, “He’s not worth my time – I’d rather keep dancing.” She turned her focus on the man. “Good luck, sir.” And then she returned to the stage.

  Very quickly, was it? Nanami supposed that meant he had teleported. She looked around the room for Xiao, but he had still not appeared. Where had he gone anyway? He was supposed to be protecting Jin. If he’d been here, maybe they could have caught the immortal.

  Nanami made herself sit patiently on the man’s lap, but he lost his game, so when he finally released her an hour or so later, it was without any payment. “Good riddance,” he muttered as she walked away.

  Jin was no longer dancing. Instead, Bai had produced a wooden dizi flute and Jin was playing with him. Nanami was impressed that Jin had handled the attack so calmly; she doubted any of the mortals here had noticed anything amiss. And Bai and Jin were doing far better earning money than she – she would look for Xiao.

  She strode through the inn for some time, checking the kitchen courtyard and each wing, but there was no sign of him. She finally went out, circled around, and checked the stables. A boy was working in the latter, currying horses.

  “Can I help you, lady?”

  “I’m looking for a member of my party – a young man wearing blue robes and two swords, with his hair in a very long plait.”

  The boy thought for a moment. “Does he like to drink, lady?”

  Nanami’s gut immediately knotted. “He does. Do you think you’ve seen him?”

  “I saw a man like that take two wine jugs down to the river, probably three hours ago.” The boy hesitated. “Lady, the master’s wine is brewed at the temple. It is very strong.”

  “Thank you,” Nanami said, before making her way to the river.

  XIAO came awake suddenly, sputtering and wiping cold water from his face. When he could finally see clearly, he found Nanami standing over him, having used one of the empty wine jugs to pour half the river on him.

  “What are you doing?” Nanami demanded, showing an unwarranted degree of emotion.

  “Shouldn’t that be my line?” Xiao asked as he struggled to sit up. “Why did you dump water on me? And why are you so angry?”

  Nanami sputtered, then said, “This isn’t the way to impress her.”

  “Her? Jin?” Xiao snorted. “Why should I impress her? Besides, she has eyes only for Bai.”

  Nanami bit her lip, and Xiao thought she must agree with him. She said, “You’ve been sober a week and a half – are you really going to throw that away? You could win her. She cares about you. You’re extremely handsome. How can you concede to him without a fight?”

  Xiao reached for his second jug – he had only finished one before taking a nap. Nanami knocked the jug away from him, spilling the wine into the dirt. Xiao glared at her – she was still presuming too much. He knew she felt connected to him, a sort of problem child bond, but that didn’t mean he had to choose the same path she had. He reached for the jug again. She snatched it up and be
gan pouring it out.

  Xiao roared and lunged at her, but Nanami was fleet-footed. Xiao ended up slamming into the ground. “Who do you think you are?” he demanded.

  Nanami hesitated. “I’d like to be your friend.”

  Xiao paused. He could feel, beneath her neutral words, a keen vulnerability, the same yearning that had alerted him to her attention in the Wood Pavilion. His eyes darted to the jug in her hand, still pouring wine but surely close to empty.

  Xiao let his lids half-close and his dimples show. “Nanami, of course you are my friend. Can’t we be reasonable about this?”

  Nanami glared at him. “Your addiction has never been clearer than in this moment. Only desperation would allow you to change from raging bull to charming monkey so quickly.”

  Xiao’s smile, just a thin veneer to begin with, cracked. “It’s my addiction. Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

  Nanami lowered the jug – it was empty. “I’ll help you earn Jin’s affections,” she suggested.

  “Because you think that’s the only thing I want more than alcohol?” he returned bitterly.

  “Because you deserve them,” she countered.

  He shook his head. “You’re wrong. I don’t deserve them.” Xiao saw the pity in her eyes, but he continued before she could reply. “No one deserves another being’s affection – that’s not how love works. You don’t earn love. Love is a gift, and gifts aren’t earned.

  “The best thing for me,” he added, “would be to give away my love. To love another being wholly and without conditions. But I can’t.”

  “Why?” asked Nanami, her curiosity genuine.

  “Because I don’t love myself. Until I do, I can’t sustain a love like that.”

  Nanami’s face showed shock, and she turned away from him. Xiao started to rise, intending to get another jug. But then Nanami whirled around. “How about I help you love yourself then?”

  Xiao met her dark, fierce eyes and knew some of the fire there burned for him. He really didn’t understand why; maybe Nanami didn’t either. Even though her words moved him, he leered at her and said, “If you want to sleep with me, just say so.”