Chapter Forty-One Kasu
In the MORNING, Kasu and the others assembled inside the dining hall for breakfast. Another lavish spread had been prepared for them.
This time, the table was set with rice porridge and various soups.
An array of fruit lay piled up in a large golden bowl in the middle, though Kasu was disappointed that there were no more mangosteens.
General Shusa and his two guards sat at one end of the unnecessarily long table. The general ate very little for a person of his size. He sipped at his tea and picked at a piece of fruit while his guards stuffed themselves with steamed buns and pork rib soup.
“I heard from General Shusa that both Lady Camellia and the Pale Lady are no more,” Orro said as he poured her a cup of freshly brewed tea.
Kasu stared at the stern-faced servant. Every time he was near, she couldn’t help but feel slightly unsettled. Despite how absolutely unremarkable he was in appearance, there was just an … aura about him that made her squirm.
“That’s right.” She smiled, trying to be polite. Some people were just weird. It wasn’t their fault.
Orro did a grand job of not rolling his eyes. “So Lord Cobalt is the only demon lord left. I’m sure that little worm is having a grand time.” Kasu had come to recognize the disdain the heavens held for all things under-realm.
“There’s still Lord Onyx.”
“Really?”
It looked like there was more the servant wished to ask, but he didn’t get the chance, as just then General Shusa cleared his throat.
With a bow, Orro retreated from the table.
“I have spoken with the Celestial Empress about the events that brought you here,” said Shusa.
“Regarding the deaths of two of the four demon lords, no doubt there will be some turmoil, but it is not the heavens’ place to control what demons do.
As long as they keep their evil deeds contained to Ghost City, that is. ”
“In other words, as long as only the people in the under-realm suffer, it’s fine.” Arun frowned.
General Shusa lifted his teacup to his lips, but his eyes never left Arun’s face. “Those ‘people’ are demons who have committed crimes, or ghosts who have made deals with demons. They end up there through nobody’s fault but their own.”
Kasu’s cheeks burned with shame. Of course.
How could she have forgotten? Being part of the under-realm was a punishment.
If she had not sold her soul to Lady Camellia, she would not have ended up in Ghost City.
If she had just died quietly she would not have fallen out of the cycle of souls.
She had to take responsibility for her own decisions, as did all other ghosts.
“But there are ghosts that wind up in the under-realm because they suffer great misfortune. People who die in such misery they become ghosts because they can’t move on,” said Arun.
“You mean the hungry ghosts? Tell me, do you think everyone who suffers in life becomes a ghost? They might not be able to control the misfortune that strikes them, but they can control how they react to it. Whether they mire themselves in hatred or rise above it like a lotus flower is a matter of willpower. Whose fault is it, then, that they cannot move on?”
Kasu kept her head bowed. The Heavenly Principles were full of advice about how to maintain your composure when things went wrong, how to refrain from anger and hatred, but General Shusa’s judgement felt too harsh. It felt … wrong.
No, a god can’t be wrong. The Heavenly Principles can’t…
Arun stared back at the general, quietly furious.
General Shusa frowned. A moment later, he smoothed it over with a smile. “I understand your frustration, but that is just how things are. By decree of the Celestial Empress, the under-realm and the ghosts that dwell there are to be left to their own devices. And to their own suffering.”
Kasu wished she could disappear into her soup. “If I may…” She swallowed past her hesitation. “What about the elixir Lady Camellia made?”
“Of course, the elixir is too dangerous to leave alone. We will send someone to the under-realm to retrieve it and lock it up here in the heavenly vaults where it cannot fall into the wrong hands.”
“You can do that? Won’t it be dangerous to venture into the under-realm?” Kasu didn’t realize how far she was leaning over the table until she felt her hair brush against her bowl of congee.
General Shusa chuckled, flattered by her interest. “Worry not. We have a mask that we use to disguise ourselves.”
Kasu jerked back and brushed a few stray grains of rice from her hair.
As she did, Arun caught her eye. She was sure they were both thinking of the aura mask.
The Sage had said that he sold his masks to gods too.
Kasu had not wanted to believe it at the time, but that was only because the Sage made it sound like the gods were using the mask to indulge in the pleasures of the under-realm, not for official business.
“That’s convenient.” Arun’s tone strained at the bars of politeness.
“And the reincarnation wheel?” Kasu asked.
“Is with me for the time being. Before it can be returned to the Hall of Fates, my servants will check to make sure it’s in full working order.”
“I would love to see the hall.” Kasu sighed. What a sight it must be: all those wheels turning and turning. Souls heading to their next lives.
General Shusa set down his chopsticks. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Heroes though you may be, two of you are ghosts and the other is a curse. To let you out into the hall would cause a stir.”
The maids giggled behind their sleeves, silenced only when General Shusa looked their way.
“You mean the sight of ghosts and a curse would offend the gods’ delicate sensibilities,” said Arun, tightly.
“Not at all.” General Shusa leaned across the table towards them. “The Celestial Empress was impressed by your exploits. In fact, that brings me to the announcement I wished to make. A banquet will be held in your honour, and then the three of you will be sent home.”
“Home?”
“Back to the under-realm.”
Arun stood up so suddenly his chair toppled to the floor behind him. “Kasu has worked hard all her life; she’s lived in accordance with the Heavenly Principles even though it’s damn hard to do in the under-realm. Would you please consider allowing her to reincarnate?”
The maids and the guards – even General Shusa – stared openly at him.
Kasu gawked at him too. She had planned to ask General Shusa the same thing.
She had thought she would be excited at the prospect of being reborn, but after hearing Arun say the words aloud she realized she was less thrilled about it than she had believed.
Being reborn meant leaving Ruo and Arun. It meant forgetting all about them.
Everyone leaves. She did not want to be like Arun’s brothers, like his mother, just another person who had once been in his life.
“I’m surprised you dream of returning to the mortal realm. Wouldn’t you rather ascend to the heavens?” General Shusa smiled at her.
“Oh no!” cried Kasu. “It would be arrogant of me, a mere ghost, to assume I could have a place here! I would never dare to hold such impudent ambitions!”
“Not so impudent now. You’re a hero,” said the general, warmly.
“So are you. I–I mean, you’re the greatest hero in the heavens.” Kasu blushed.
The general laughed. “I thank you for your praise, though I’m sure my fellow guardian gods would have something to say about that.
” He turned to Arun, who was still frowning.
“You make a heartfelt argument on behalf of your friend. I will raise the matter with the Celestial Empress. For now, however…”
Ruo jumped on top of the table. “A party!”
For the rest of the day, General Shusa’s household was abuzz with preparations for the night’s celebration. Servants scurried through the estate with decorations, the kitchen fires blazed, and scribes hurriedly penned invitations in golden ink.
Kasu tried to help, but General Shusa’s servants furiously shooed her away.
A pair of maids practically frogmarched her back to her room, where she was forced to try on dress after dress.
Kasu had never known that the act of putting on clothes could be a topic of such heated debate.
Silhouette, style, material, colour, embellishments, stitching – her maids argued and deliberated over every aspect of Kasu’s gown like two generals discussing war tactics.
By the time the servants had settled on a dress of pink silk, it was already evening and the celebrations were about to begin.
In the central courtyard of General Shusa’s estate, orchids and peonies grew in abundance around every bend in the path.
Plum trees in full bloom shook their pink petals onto the grass.
Kasu wondered if the flowers in the heavenly realm ever withered.
The maids had set up several large tables along the grass, each covered with dishes from across the many mortal kingdoms in General Shusa’s territory. Attendants walked around handing out wine in coloured crystal glasses – red for Shusa’s guests, blue for the household staff.
After their bountiful breakfast that morning, Kasu had seen more food in the space of two days than her entire mortal life. She dearly hoped there were enough people to eat it all; she hated the idea that any of it would be thrown away.
As Kasu searched for Arun and Ruo, she noticed Orro standing near the pond, watching her. The servant was just as stern-faced as ever, despite the festivities around him. When their eyes met, he gave her an unimpressed look and turned away.
Kasu decided not to waste her time on what a single servant thought about her. She filled her plate with pieces of fruit and quickly walked away.
A large stage stood between a pair of red pavilions where several musicians were playing a variety of string instruments.
The sound of music mingled with the low murmur of conversation.
Most of General Shusa’s household were here – scribes and handmaidens, guards and soldiers in his army.
Even the boy who tended to his celestial horses was in attendance.
There were gods from other households too.
Military gods of warfare and protection.
Civil gods who oversaw the administration of the heavens.
There were gods of weather, gods of wealth, divine protectors of doors and deities responsible for recording the deeds of humanity.
Kasu spied the other three guardian gods – all dressed in silver and gold armour – milling about the crowd.
She tried not to gawk at them. She was sure such old, important gods had better things to do than talk to some ghost. Kasu did her best to stay out of their way – unlike Ruo, who she spotted cornering one of General Shusa’s scribes.
“So are you gods too?” the cat asked.
“T–technically we are humans who have been granted immortality and a place in the heavens. We have no temples of our own. Instead, we are assigned to a particular god and serve their household, and then, if we accomplish great things, we may eventually earn the title of god.” The scribe eyed Ruo as if he feared the cat would eat him if he answered wrongly.
“Then what makes a god?”
For a moment, the man’s academic interest was enough to overpower his fear. He replied with gusto. “Worship. If humans worship you, you’re a god.”
“Some humans worship demons: does that make them gods?”
The man’s face turned the colour of bruised plums. “Certainly not!”
“But why?”
The scribe had no answer, though that was likely because he was too busy choking on his own outrage.
Kasu searched the garden for Arun, but all she could find were other officials. She grabbed an empty plate and headed towards a woman at the food table.
“Hi.” She smiled at the woman, taking note of the blue glass in her hand. That meant she was from Shusa’s household.
The woman jumped as if she had been stung. Glancing at Kasu, she covered her nose and mouth with the sleeve of her dress and hurried away.
Well, that was rather unfriendly. In fact, though perhaps it was just Kasu’s imagination, it felt as though people were looking at her.
She’d noticed several attendants whispering behind their sleeves.
Every time Kasu caught someone’s eye, they quickly turned away as if they hadn’t been staring just moments ago.
Was she doing something wrong? Did she have food on her face?
Kasu knew she wasn’t as beautiful or graceful as the people from the heavens, but did she really look that odd?
Her throat suddenly felt awfully dry, but all the drinks were handled by General Shusa’s staff, and trying to flag down a server was proving impossible.
Before she could muster up the courage to hunt down a servant, Ruo barrelled into the back of her legs.
“Kasu! I hate it here! Everyone is so stiff and boring. When can we go back to the under-realm?” they moaned loudly. Too loudly. Everyone within a ten-foot radius probably overheard them.
“Ruo!” Kasu hissed, mortified.
“What? I’m right. Even Arun wants to leave. He told me so himself.”
“Where is he?” Kasu’s grip on her plate tightened.
Ruo grinned. “Poking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Kasu stiffened. What in the three realms was Arun doing now?
“Ah, the guest of honour! How are you enjoying yourself?” General Shusa strode towards them, planting himself in the middle of their conversation.
It was hard to look at the general without feeling overwhelmed. Every time the god stood close, Kasu was reminded of how impressive he was – his long list of accomplishments, his virtues, his dedication to the Heavenly Principles.
The god cleared his throat, and Kasu realized she had been staring at him without answering.
“G–great. It’s great.” Her cheeks burned.
“I’m glad to hear it. I have a special request for you, in fact.” The god smiled.
Kasu snapped to attention. “Really?”
“The Celestial Empress has promised to grace us with her presence. She said she wished to thank you personally for the work you have done. When she arrives, I’d like you to attend to her.”
Kasu’s head was spinning. Just one week ago, she could never have dreamed of ending up here, in the heavens, speaking with General Shusa of all people, and now she would meet the Celestial Empress, ruler of the heavens? Could such amazing things happen to a ghost?
“Yes! I mean, it would be an honour!”
General Shusa clapped her on the back, his eyes twinkling with a boyish excitement. Kasu swore she had seen that look on his face somewhere before, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on where.
No, she remembered now. It was the same look he had worn in the portrait that had once adorned Lady Camellia’s chambers.