兵貴神速
bīng guì shénsù
To soldiers speed is godlike.
In war it's speed that counts.
*~*~*~*~*~*
At first the pain was too raw. I woke at night, trapped in my new strange form, and remembered what I had lost. It felt as if the grief left in its wake would drown me, or tear me apart. My power, my freedom, my pride, taken from me, and in the empty shell left behind, nothing.
Hand in hand with the pain came anger, hot and fierce. I was angry, not just at that golden bastard Yan and the other four, but at every living creature that moved and breathed and lived their lives, oblivious to the fact that a fallen god walked among them.
Why I hated, I wasn't sure. When I had been a god I had rejoiced in the ability to assume human shape and walk among them. The irony of it had amused me, knowing as I milled through crowded markets and lively tea houses, I could destroy any one of the weak creatures that jostled against me with a twitch of my fingers. Now, trapped as one of them, I felt furious, indignant, insulted. I started to forget how it felt to be me.
For many years my fury continued to consume me, as if it was an instinctive reaction, an attempt by my mind to fill the hole left by my loss. Of course, I didn't rage aimlessly. I tried to channel my anger to purpose. I schemed, inciting rebellions, subverting officials, and causing general chaos as was my specialty. But all of my small rebellions were swiftly quashed out by one of The Five. Baihu continued to howl for my death, but the other four were indifferent. As I was now, I was no longer a threat. They treated my attempts at revenge like the tantrums of an angry child, which cut deeper than the worst of punishments could. They knew there was nothing I could do.
After a few decades I gave up on revenge and left the central regions. I had never much cared for the north, being too dry and barren as well as landlocked. To the south, rain and greenery and a beautiful blue ocean beckoned me, but to be honest, despite Baihu's constant death threats, Zhu, or the Red Duke as he was know to his devoted followers, had always unnerved me the most of The Five. His cunning and skill at intrigue was legendary. There was a reason he had survived so many dynasties.
Obviously I couldn't go west. I could almost imagine Baihu pacing along the borders of her territory, waiting for me to stray within her lands so she could finally sink her teeth into my soft fleshy form. My enforced immortality would only facilitate her revenge. She could torture me for all eternity, and in my weak yet indestructible human body I could do little but endure.
So I went east, into Lu's lands.
I had always loved the east. Its misty mountains and constant rains had soothed the fire in my soul for millennia. As a human, it was no different. However, they soothed a bit too much perhaps. With my emigration to the east came a numbness, a dull lethargy, that lasted a hundred years or more.
I remember that time most of all. My life seemed an inescapable dark depression, each day waking to know it would be the same as the day before it. Those years haunt more than all the early years combined. When I was first made human, at least I had the pain of betrayal and thirst for revenge to give meaning to my existence. Once those were gone, I started to wonder why I bothered living on at all. I contemplated, and attempted, a sickening array of methods to end my immortal existence, all of which failed. Even now looking back I cannot think of those days without a shadow falling over my soul.
And then after one attempt I woke to a soft rain falling, knocking petals from the trees. The birds were singing deep in the wood, the rain tapping out the rhythm on the wooden roof of the simple shack I called home at that point. The cool smells, of water, of spring and fresh vegetation, of fallen blossoms, cleansed me. I decided to take advantage of the life I had been given, weak human though I was. I would not give Yan and the others the satisfaction of pining myself away into insanity. I would live well, if only to spite them and their godly arrogance.
With new purpose, I learned about the world around me, everything about it. My knowledge of the natural world was already vast, after having spent so much time as a nomad, wandering among the forests and hills of the world. So I moved on to the human world.
In order to fully understand the humans I had to infiltrate their society, to live as one of them. It was difficult at first, and many times I gave up and returned to a life alone. But eventually, I started to assimilate, to notice patterns in behavior and emulate them to make myself more like them. I made acquaintances, enemies, friends.
I even married, perhaps my boldest experiment, to a fisher I met by chance while wandering the foggy eastern coasts. He had broad shoulders, dark eyes and a soft voice. He would call me his treasure late at night when he thought I was asleep, and kiss my forehead goodbye in the early hours before he left for the sea. To this day I find it ironic that I managed to betroth myself to such a gentle man, considering my own ferocious nature and all the less than gentle men who would have met their match in me.
There really is no justice in the world.
I stayed with the man longer than I thought I would, till illness took him in his forty first year. Having no children, I buried him and moved on.
Now, when I looked back over my life as a human, I felt a small sense of accomplishment. I thought of it as an adventure completed, a successful foray into the whirl of humanity. I had done many things, and I had come to understand the desperate, brief passion that drove the mortals to do what they did. I wasn't happy, but I wasn't unhappy either. Surprisingly, I was content with my life.
At least that was how I felt most of the time. But sometimes, when the rain fell, softly in the morning or loudly at night, and thunder rumbled the dark, I felt an old fire burning in my blood, and I wondered again and again if we really change, or if we only pretend to.
Somewhere around my 600th year as a human, I settled into another lethargy, this one a sort of languid, bored indifference. Aimless, I wandered the valleys and hills of the eastern kingdom, which over the years had become as familiar to me as the lines of my own palm. I took to playing the lute to pass the time and make a small income. I wandered and wondered and strummed away my immortal days.
That was how I came to be in the small town of Nan'ye the night I met the young prince and his two companions.
*~*~*~*~*~*
I had long ago learned that not all battles were fought with weapons between warriors. In fact, the most complex battles were those fought between men and women.
A woman's weapons are the curve of her lips, the arch of her brow, the sway of her hips. The smiles and laughter she gives out like prizes.
Above all, a woman's weapon is confidence, and I was well armed.
I entered the bar like an empress enters her throne room, my instrument on my back, and the eyes of every man and boy present snapped to me. They were drawn to me as fish to a whirlpool, and I saw a few wives and mothers slap arms and scold the men next to them. My smile broadened.
I quickly found the giant tattoo foreigner sitting alone at a table across the bar. I caught his eyes as I entered, and he smiled at me again, this smile much more suggestive than his first. He didn't recognize me as the scruffy looking peasant boy he had passed earlier on the stairs.
I scanned the room, but my prince and his dark-eyed friend were nowhere to be found. I assumed they would join their blonde friend eventually, so I settled down on a stool near the bar to play.
I took my lute from its protective bag and tuned it. It was a beautiful instrument, and had been my wandering companion for decades now. When I first had it made, the wood had been pale, almost white, but age and use had varnished it to a fine honey color, and made the carved birds and butterflies seem more distinguished.
I began with a slow, easy song, watching the bar as I did. It was a large room, lit by flickering candles placed in glass jars at each of table. People who had come to town for the night market filtered in and settled at the dozen or so scarred tables. Once those filled, they made for the bar or to the multiple niches and corners where more tables were tucked.
The patrons were mainly traders and farmers, dressed in homespun cloth of browns and blacks. The bar was rich with their rough country accents as they talked over the days events with a pot of tea or a bottle of rice wine between them.
Scattered among the farmers were a handful of minor level officials, clerks or messengers or rice couriers. Most of them were also clothed in ordinary black or brown material, but over the top they wore robes or overcoats of the same leaf green cloth that was issued to all those in the service of the Green Throne.
I began to play another song, my eyes roving from the door to the blonde man and back again. As my second song came to a cadencing close, my prince entered the bar.
He and the dark-eyed man entered from the side door, the one that led to the stables, with straw clinging to their boots. They stomped their shoes and the straw fell to join the dropped food and dirt on the slate floor.
"Two men walk into a bar......how does the joke go again?" I muttered, fingers still picking out the song without falter. Spending so many years alone one develops certain unshakable habits. Such as talking to oneself.
I smiled sweetly as the men approached where I sat. They walked by me without a sideways glance.
"I worry about Little Light turning a hoof on the mountain roads," the dark-eyed man said as they passed. Sho, if my earlier eavesdropping was correct.
"You worry too much," the Prince replied, then caught sight of his blonde friend. "There's Zakhar."
"Let's hope he hasn't already drunk the bar dry," the dark-eyed man said. He did seem a worrier.
The two joined their large companion at his table. All three men were handsome. I considered myself something of a connoisseur of beauty, and idly I wondered whether the dark-eyed man would be the prince's equal without his shadows, or what the blonde man would look like if he were to curtail his unruly beard.
As I was observing him, the blonde man, Zakhar, caught my eye and winked. I winked back conspiratorially and he guffawed. He said something to the other two men and they stopped, then glanced at me. I smiled seductively and waited for them to approach, but they resumed their conversation.
I was taken aback by their lack of interest. Men could rarely resist my charms when I put on my seductive skin. The battle was not proceeding at all as I had expected. And I wasn't the only one on the battlefield.
The barmaid grinned and swung her hips as she approached the table. Delivering another tankard to Zakhar, she took the other two men's orders. She gave a pig like squeal of laughter at something my Prince said and then swayed away to get their drinks.
I caught her eye as she sashayed past and scowled. Back off, little girl. She only smirked back, cheeks dimpling like an ugly baby.
Time to change tactics. I started to play again, this time a slow, seductive song. In a soft, husky voice, I sang the lyrics. The song was called 'The Water Maid and The Fisher Lad'. It was about a handsome young man who goes to the river to fish and meets a bewitching water spirit. The spirit entices the lad into her watery embrace with her song, and he doesn't find time to do much fishing. He also drowns.
Ha, that's what you get for falling for a water spirit. Idiot.
My fingers lingered on the strings, drawing the chords out. My pretty prince sat with his back to me, and I kept my gaze on the back of his head. As if I could burn my way into his notice with just my eyes.
He must have felt my gaze, for he turned. Or perhaps one of his friends had told him I was staring at him. Our eyes met for brief second, and I froze, my fingers stopping mid-note.
Closer, I was able to see what I had missed before. The handsome man had eyes of a unusual, dark green, like pine trees under dark cloud. The color was faint, just a shade lighter than black. Almost imperceptible. But definitely there.
I smiled at him slowly. He smiled back, then returned to his companions.
I began a new song, not discouraged. I was no water maid, confined to a river and forced to lure men to me. I had many methods of attack.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Despite my array of weapons, five songs later I had yet to approach victory.
I decided to change my strategy. I went to the bar man and asked for my dinner.
"What dinner?" he said, still polishing a mug with a rag. The mug looked immaculate, and I suspected he was polishing out of habit rather than necessity.
"You said I could play for my dinner." He did a double take at my changed appearance.
"You're the boy in number 19?"
"I'm the girl in number 19."
"I was wondering why you suddenly started playing in the middle of my bar.... alright then, wait there an' I'll get yah something. Mind yourself, just songs, no OTHER services for my customers. I don't have a license for that."
"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean."
The man snorted, disappeared, and then reappeared a minute later with a huge plate piled high with fluffy baozi, the delicious steamed meat buns that were popular in the east. Why they weren't popular everywhere, I don't know, because their taste was heavenly. The smell of the pork and leek seeping from the soft fluffy clouds of steamed dough made my mouth water.
I carried my plate across the room and set it down with a clatter at the men's table. They all looked up at me, surprise on their faces, though it quickly turned to curiosity on the prince's face and suspicion on Sho's. The man named Zakhar just grinned at me through his beard, eyes twinkling.
"Good evening, my lords. Care for some baozi?"
They recovered quickly, the dark-eyed man tugging a corner of the map they had been studying out from under my plate of baozi and rolling it up quickly. Zakhar reached to the table behind him and swiped an unused stool, ignoring the looks from the table's occupants. He placed the stool beside his own and patted it. I smiled gratefully as I sat.
"The barman kindly gave me these in exchange for my songs. I was hoping to find someone to help me eat them, as there are far too many for me." A lie. I could eat them all and another plate besides.
"That's very kind of you, Lady-" my prince began, waiting for me to fill in my name.
"They call me the Lady of the Four strings," I finished with a smile. The first rule of battle, always leave them wanting more. Never give definite answers or names. "And what may I call my lords?"
The blond man went first. He gave an half bow, awkward as he was seated. "I am named Strannik Zakharovich Obeshchaniye, but call me Zakhar," his speech was accented but grammatically perfect. He captured one of my hands in his own giant, tattooed paw and planted a kiss on it in a manner I knew was common in the western lands. His breath smelt of ale and was wet on the back of my hand.
I turned to the next man at the table, but he stared blankly at me with his dark, haunted eyes and said nothing. He looked more than a little displeased at my presence.
It was my prince introduced his companion. "This is Kageyama Sho," my eyes flicked to the dark-eyed man, by his name confirmed a native of the Eastern Isles. "And you can call me Sanli," he bowed his head in my direction, and I noticed that he didn't give a family name.
Sanli. At last I had a name for him. I smiled. "Sanli, what a nice name... how do you write it?" There were at least 10 homonyms for san, and more for li.
He dipped one finger into his drink and used it to quickly write the characters out on the dark wood of the table. I pretended to be unable to read what he had written, and held out my hand instead. "Here, write it on my palm."
Zakhar chucked at my brazenness, and Kageyama snorted in disgust.
Sanli gently took my hand in his own. "You have so many rings," he commented conversationally as he turned my hand palm up. Then he took his forefinger and traced the characters for 'three' and 'plum tree' on the soft skin of my palm. It was a common name, especially here, in the eastern regions.
"Three... plum tree... you are someone's third child, perhaps?" I asked. He nodded and smiled, pine eyes bright, and I took my hand back.
"Well, Sir Sanli, do you care for baozi?" I pushed the plate toward him, but was intercepted by Kageyama. He scowled at me as he picked up a baozi and sniffed it before taking a small, careful bite.
"It's not poisoned, at least not by me," I chuckled. Zakhar and Sanli chuckled along, but their smiles were tight. Kageyama chewed for another moment before nodding, and the other two reached for the plate.
"What brings you fine gentlemen to Nan'ye," I feigned disinterest in my own question by focusing my attention on the bun I was picking apart and putting delicately piece by piece into my mouth.
Sanli laughed. "We are hardly fine gentlemen," he gestured to his simple linen clothing. "My friend Zakhar is an antiquarian," I eyed the mans giant biceps and worn knuckles and doubted they came from collecting antiquities. "I am a trader and Sho is a teacher."
"Oh?" I said. "And what do you teach, Lord Kageyama? Or is it Kageyama Sensei?" The man in question folded his arms and snapped his teeth together in displeasure.
I found the degree to which my presence displeased him highly amusing, and wasn't about to leave.
"Literature," the dark-eyed man finally ground out after my attention didn't waver, and said no more. I looked at the hundreds of small nicks and scars on his hands and lower arms. He followed my gaze and rolled down his tunic sleeves.
I noticed they had successfully avoided my question about their reason for coming to Nan'ye. No matter. I knew where they were going.
"You are planning to visit the old shrine on the mountain, yes?" I nodded to the now rolled map, on which I had seen their circled destination before Kageyama had hidden it.
The men shifted and glanced at one another. Then Zakhar spoke. "I am interested in seeing the architecture. I hear it's a very ancient shrine."
"It is," I answered. I idly traced the grooves of a character some less scrupulous patron had carved into the table. Kiss my hairy pink- oh. Charming. I looked up. "I've visited this shrine many times. I could guide you there."
"That is kind of you, my lady, but I would hate to take you from your own plans-" Sanli began as Kageyama glared at me.
"Oh I have no fixed plans. I am nothing if not spontaneous," I interrupted him.
Kageyama finally spoke. "The roads south of here are dangerous, and we cannot guarantee your safety." From the way he was glaring at me, it seemed the danger he spoke of would most likely come from him.
"Eh?! But you all look so strong! I'm sure I would be safe traveling with you," I said, batting my eyelashes at them. I casually laid a hand on Zakhar's giant arm. Zakhar grinned at me, and Sanli looked like he was struggling to contain his smile, his green eyes bright.
He knew I was playing a part. It made me like him all the more.
The man called Kageyama Sho continued glaring, his dark eyes hot. "Thank you for your offer, but as you have already observed, we have a map. We need no guide."
I ran a finger along the edge of the plate and reached for another baozi. "Hmmmm, you do, but does your map tell you that the bridge on the eastern route washed out with last summer's rains? Or perhaps it was the western route... I do forget."
Zakhar guffawed, Sanli's smile widened, and Kageyama snapped, "There are plenty of others in this town with sharper memories we can ask."
I sighed in mock hurt, and decided that with a man like Kageyama, a straightforward approach was best. "You don't like me, do you Lord Kageyama?" I leaned toward him across the table, smiling my most seductive smile. "May I ask why? We've just met. Surely I've not wronged you in the short time since our acquaintance?"
The other two looked surprised at my boldness, but excited at the potential for confrontation.
Kageyama just crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. Ah, ignoring me, huh?
My fingers rapped the table. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. I was unable to provoke this man, Kageyama Sho, to anything other than wary dislike. It seemed as if he held some authority with this group, and without his approval, I would most likely find it difficult to accompany them beyond Nan'ye.
I could say goodbye to my green eyed prince, the first distraction from my mandated boredom I had stumbled upon in a while.
As if sensing my frustration, Kageyama's lip tipped up a fraction into what was undoubtedly a smirk.
My temper spiked, my smile sharpened and the next words I spoke would have been better left unsaid, for they did not help me at all.
"Let me attempt a guess: a woman wronged you once and you've decided all women are evil?" I had unconsciously leaned further across the table toward him. My body language was now threatening instead of seductive.
Fire sparked in Kageyama's dark eyes and I caught a glimpse something hiding there. A furious silent sorrow that hounded his every waking moment.
It was a familiar expression, and I wondered where I had seen it before.
The men at the table had all become tense, even more so than when I had made the poison comment. It seemed my guess had been correct.
I had gotten a reaction at last from the stoic Kageyama, but the mood had shifted. By my own misplaced words I had gone from intriguing guest to unwelcome belligerent.
The battle was turning, if not already lost. Retreat seemed the best option now.
But just as I prepared to stand, inwardly cursing my temper, Sanli, my prince, spoke, his easy smile seeming to alleviate the tension.
"I'll tell you what, Lady Four Strings," he said, smiling as he leaned toward me. But something in his smile had shifted, and I felt caution tingle along my spine. "I heard your playing earlier, you're very talented."
Of course I was, I had been playing for his life time and more.
He gestured to himself, one hand at his chest. "I'm something of a music enthusiast myself. Let's have a competition. You win, my friends and I will accompany you to the shrine. But I win, you have to give me your real name and apologize to Sho Sensei." Sho grunted and shrugged as though it mattered little to him.
I narrowed my eyes as I thought. It seemed an odd gamble, but one I didn't have reason to refuse. I would win, undoubtedly. And even if I didn't, I didn't have a name anymore for him to take.
"You don't have an instrument," I pointed out.
"Does anyone have an erhu I can borrow?" Sanli stood, raising his voice to ask the bar. Conversations stopped and gazes that had already been flicking occasionally to our table sharpened. "This lovely lady has challenged me to a race and I cannot say no."
A red-faced farmer two tables over volunteered his late uncle's instrument and raced off to get it. The Prince began to roll up his sleeves and I studied him, his fine unworn hands a sharp contrast to his two companions and everyone in the bar, my own beringed hands included. I wondered why on earth he had asked for an erhu. It was an instrument of peasants and farmers.
"I can't help but wonder at my lord's motivation in proposing such a competition," I said, watching him. He smiled at me and shrugged.
"Not afraid to accept, are you?" said Sho Sensei from across the table, looking smug. It seemed we had agreed to move on to open hostilities."You're nothing if not spontaneous, right?" He added.
"I never turn down a challenge," I all but snarled back.
"Well, competition calls for betting," said Zakhar, digging in his loose shirt and slamming some coins on the table. "Three rounds on the lady. What do you say, Kageyama?" I looked at the three round golden coins shining faintly in the candlelight. That was a lot of money. Even I could eat well for a week on one of those.
Silently, Kageyama placed his own coins on the table, watching me all the while. Around the bar, those who were watching our table also started calling out bets.
It was clear by now Sanli and Kageyama had allied against me, so I appreciated the giant's small show of support. I tipped my head slightly to thank Zakhar for his bet. He winked at me. "You look like someone who doesn't like to lose," he said. He was right.
At this moment the farmer came huffing back into the bar with his dear departed uncle's eighty year old erhu. Sanli took it from him with a beaming smile and a thank you that made even the gnarled farmer blush. He started to tune the instrument with minuscule twists of the two tuning pegs.
My instrument already tuned, I waited, the varied rings on each of my fingers clinking gently as I flexed my hands in preparation.
'Er hu' in the old language meant 'two strings'. The name of the instrument implied its simplicity. Between the two strings a horse hair bow was permanently threaded. The bow could be drawn between the strings to produce long, haunting sounds, altered in pitch by placing fingers at varying heights on the strings along the instruments unmarked bow. It could also be plucked to create a percussion like sound.
It was thought the instrument had originally come from the savage horse tribes to the north, but had been adapted by the lower classes of all regions. It was an instrument that brought to mind field hands dancing in celebration of a good harvest, or barbarians celebrating the sacking of an enemy encampment. Not an elegant gentleman racing a fallen god in a bar. Then again, these were hardly typical circumstances.
Sanli sat again on his chair and propped the base of the erhu on one knee. In one hand he held the neck and strings of the erhu and in the other the bow, now perpendicular to the neck in preparation for playing. It was a sad looking, worn instrument, free of any carving or adornment. The horse hair bow was frayed and the leather of the sounding board was stained. The leather did not even seem to be from a snake as was traditional. I sniffed. It smelled like... pig leather.
"Let's start off with something slow to warm up," he said. "Do you know 'Butterflies in Spring'?" A slow paced, happy piece.
"I do," I said, pulling up a chair and holding my own exquisitely carved lute. Butterflies and birds frolicked around the frets and my strings were oiled and in perfect condition. If we were competing on instrument quality then there was no contest.
"After you," Sanli said, bowing politely, but the gesture seemed mocking. The bar around us quieted somewhat in anticipation. Others had taken bets and shifted seats to see us better. The bar man had moved around the bar for a better view, still swiping at the mug in his hand with a bit of cloth.
I began. We played his butterfly song before moving on to a similarly paced piece. I was careful not to show off, saving my real skills for the competition. I realized after our third sappy song, "Birds in the Blossoms" that while his taste in music was decidedly lacking, my prince was actually very talented.
As if reading my mind, Sanli finished his flowery bird song and asked. "Would it be alright to begin, Lady Four Strings?"
"Of course my lord. This humble soul will do her best to keep up," I answered as graciously as possible, but really I was hungering to crush his confidence. There's something particularly gratifying about beating a confident, handsome man at his own game.
Around us the bar had gone quiet. Chairs stopped shifting and whispers stopped hissing. Even the bar man had stopped polishing, rag in one hand and mug in the other. A candle guttered in the silence.
The prince began, drawing a long, low chord with the bow. The sound fizzled with anticipation and sent shivers of excitement along my spine. I knew this song. It was a piece called 'Racing Horses', designed so that two instruments played matching parts mimicking the sounds of galloping horses. It was extremely complex and required great skill. It was also incidentally one of my favorite songs.
This competition was mine. With glee I leapt into accompaniment, like a horse leaping into the race.
With his bow, the prince had the advantage of speed, but my fingers were nimble and I was sure of my skill, plucking out the accompaniment with accuracy born from decades of playing. Together we raced, the sounds interweaving, two horses galloping and braying, hooves flying.
Sanli was skilled, incredibly so. I had played this piece in competition countless times in the past, but had not yet found someone who could match my pace. Not only could Sanli keep up, he seemed to be enjoying our competition as much as I was, smile broad, green eyes laughing as he bent his head and sawed away with his bow.
Our music filled my soul with an excitement I had not felt in a long time. I felt gratitude.
I closed my eyes, imagining our notes transformed into horses, stampeding round the bar, over tables, knocking china and mugs to the floor. Gracefully they circled the worn wooden pillars, weaving around patrons, to a latticed window, where they escaped to the night sky beyond, to gallop across the moon to the cosmos, stars flying beneath their hooves l-
I snapped back to the bar. Something was wrong. My fingers struggled to speed up, to pluck out the necessary phrases in answer without making an error, but Sanli was already a few notes ahead, his bow sawing away at the phrases as his fingers plucked at the two strings.
He should have been at a disadvantage, having only two strings on which to create the difficult melody at this point, but he certainly didn't seem at a disadvantage. As if sensing my shock, he raised his bowed head, smiling at me, fingers dancing.
I was losing to a human.
The thought hit me like a ten foot wave. I struggled to keep up, to put on more speed, and my fingers flashed in response, notes slurring into one another-
I made a mistake.
The misplayed note jarred through me. I doubt anyone in the bar had even noticed, I was playing so fast. My prince continued playing without indicating he had picked up on my error, but I knew he had. I slowed and stopped playing.
Sanli, watching me, did the same. He was still smiling, but his smile looked disappointed.
Muttering started around us, most of the drinkers confused as to why we had stopped playing. All eyes went to Sanli or myself.
"I concede," I said stiffly.
Usually such a competition would last several songs, best of three or five, but I had lost the motivation to continue.
The blond haired giant stood, clapping Sanli on the shoulder. "Bloody hell Sanli, you couldn't have gone easy on the lass?"
"You're just mad you lost your coin to Sho Sensei," Sanli said, now ignoring me. Gone were the gracious manners and smiles. He stood and returned the erhu to its owner, flipping him one of the round golden coins he had won in thanks. Men who had won money from betting on Sanli were gathering around him, congratulating him, thanking him, or offering to buy him a drink.
No one approached me, not even Zakhar, who seemed to have also forgotten my existence.
Kageyama himself still sat at the table, his won money untouched. He watched me carefully, as though waiting for my reaction. I stood from my stool and left the bar.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Later in my room, I sat again before the mirror, staring at a face that wasn't mine.
I looked down at the lute in my lap, tracing a finger along the carved leaves of the bowl. Then I curled both hands around the neck of the instrument, ignoring the way the strings cut into my palm, and started to twist, fully intending to snap the instruments long, delicate neck.
I stopped. What I was doing wasn't helpful. I may need the lute again in the future, to earn money or procure my dinner.
I sighed, put the lute aside, and reached for the linen cloth that hung from the lip of the wash basin. With downward strokes I wiped the powder from my face. Then I ran a corner of the cloth around my eyes, removing the dark kohl lining my lids. I did the same with the pencil at my brows and the rouge at my lips. I felt disgusted. What was I doing? Making up, pretending to be something I wasn't. When I was already something I'm not.
After removing the makeup, I looked down at my hands and the rings there on each finger. Slowly, I slipped the rings off one by one and placed them on the dresser. I went to the bed, lay down, and in the soft red light from the lanterns hanging outside my window, I held my hands up and studied them.
I had six fingers on each hand.
Each hand had a thumb and five fingers, the final finger extending from its own knuckle beside my little finger. It was smaller than my little finger, but fully formed and functional. I flexed it in the red light coming in my window.
A perfect imperfection.
I stared at the twelve fingers on my hands for a long time. My strange, wonderful hands. Yan had intended them as a curse, but for me they were a badge of pride. A link to something lost.
Six was an unholy number... I was unholy. My lips twisted in smug satisfaction. An unholy six fingered imperfection.
I lowered my hands to the bed beside me and lay that way for a long time. I listened to the sounds of festivity in the night market outside my window, and after the market ended the laughter from the bar. One by one guests came back to their rooms, the wood of the hall creaking under their weight, their voices muffled. I heard distinctly loud creaking as Zakhar returned to his own room. Not long after, two sets of footsteps stopped outside the door of the room next to me.
I thought it was Sanli and Kageyama until I heard a distinctly feminine giggle.
"My lord's arms are so strong," the bar maid tittered. That pig whore. I had lost twice over tonight it seemed.
Sanli replied in a low voice, and then the door open and shut behind them. I heard the sound of conversation, but was unable to distinguish words.
I doubted I was their topic of conversation, but I could not keep myself from imagining them laughing together about my utter defeat.
Soon the sounds that came through the wall did not resemble human noises at all. I rolled over and glared at the red lanterns outside my window. They had started to burn out, one by one, so now instead of strings of lanterns marching back and forth across the alley, a few lone stragglers hung, dying red stars hovering all alone in a darkening universe.
I heard a set of soft footsteps, so slight I almost missed them, come to stop outside Sanli's door. A moment later Kageyama sighed under his breath, and, grumbling, made his way back down the hall, to spend the night where, I didn't know.
I chuckled softly. Despite my humiliation, and my lack of success, I didn't regret tonight. It had been different from the dull monotony of my usual roaming. I wondered what time the three men would set out tomorrow, and whether it was better to depart the village with them or corner them at the old shrine.
After all, I had bet my name and an apology. I needed to keep my side of the bet.
The lanterns outside my window had all burnt out except for one, and finally it too went, leaving my room dark. Sound had ceased except for the chirping of crickets in the eaves and a distant shouted string of song as the last drunken patron found his way home. I gradually drifted off to sleep, contemplating which of my many names I would give my green eyed prince tomorrow, and how I could seem to apologize to Kageyama without actually doing so.
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Cover made by Sserendipity98 ❤️