名副其實
Míng fù qí shí
The name matches the reality.
Be something in truth as well as in name; be worthy of the name.

*~*~*~*~*~*

A few days later, I woke in the men's tent.

I found myself pressed to Sanli's chest, as usual. It was warm in the tent, not just beneath the furs and blankets, but the air as well. The tent was small, and low. I had only to reach my hand up to touch the tarp ceiling, so there was not much air to heat. Our four bodies were more than enough to keep it warm.

It was still dark outside, but I could tell from the stillness that it was that hour just before dawn, when the world holds its breath. Soon Kageyama would rise, and check on the horses, and then Zakhar would follow to prepare our morning meal, usually tea and whatever gruel he could make up. Last the Little Prince beside me would rise, and I, not wanting to get cold left on my own, would follow.

I snuggled closer against Sanli's chest, determined to fall back asleep in the remaining time left to me before day broke.

Suddenly, behind me, where Zakhar lay, I heard a rustle, and the sound of Zakhar stirring in his sleep, and turning. I thought nothing of it, until something hard was pressed against my lower back.

Millennia of experience froze me, instinct tensed my muscles, and my mind rapidly sifted through my complex knowledge to try and identify what kind of weapon it was. It felt long, and hard, but not sharp. A club? Or a blunt short sword? And wait, that did not make sense, Zakhar lay behind me. I could hear his breathing close, felt his beard tickling my neck. There was no room for someone else to sneak in and hold a—

Suddenly I realized what was pressed to my back. I laughed in surprise, my laughter breaking from me in a guttural shout.

Immediately Kageyama woke, and sat bolt upright, a knife appearing in his hand.

"What? What is it?" he asked, voice urgent.

Zakhar sat up as well followed by a bleary eyed Sanli. "What's wrong Ao...?"

I remained where I was. "Nothing. Everything is fine. I just understand now why Liang'yi calls Zakhar 'Big Boy'...." I gestured in the dim light of the tent towards Zakhar's lower parts.

In horror, Zakhar looked down. With animal like reflexes he snatched his blanket up and draped it over the bulge in his pants, trying to conceal it.

"So this is why all the flowers are always so happy to see you! Well, a part of you, at least. But my, you must make them work hard for their money," I laughed.

Even in the dark of the tent, I could see Zakhar's face flush crimson, like a red lantern on a celebratory day.

He buried his face in his hands to hide his embarrassment.

"That's it, I want her out of here now. Her sinful flaunting has gone on long enough," said Kageyama, trying to reach over Sanli to grab at me.

"It's alright, I'll go," said Zakhar, hurriedly rising and crawling sideways from the tent, his back to us to hide his front. He tugged the tent ties loose, and then slipped out into the pre-dawn night, a slap of cold air entering the tent as he raised the flap.

"Hmmm..." I pondered, as the tent flaps swung back into place behind him. "I've never known a man to get embarrassed for being too big before..."

"Your lack of conscience is abhorrent," said Kageyama in disgust. The kitsune rose as well and followed Zakhar out of the tent. I heard the sounds of both men moving around to get ready for the day.

"What was it I said?" I asked the prince beside me.

Sanli lay back, and pulled me with him, and then the bear skin on top of us. I was grateful, as I did not want to go out into the cold just yet.

"Ao, you do realize that Zakhar... has interest in you, don't you? As a man takes interest in a woman?"

I snorted. "Of course he does. Most men have interest in me. You and the kitsune are rare exceptions."

Sanli cleared his throat. "Well, have you considered that sometimes... given Zakhar's feelings towards you... your actions may not be kind?"

"Men enjoy being mistreated."

Sanli sighed, and pulled me against him. I heard the sound of pans outside, and our bronze kettle being set on stone, as Zakhar and Kageyama prepared breakfast.

"Nevermind," said the prince.

*~*~*~*~*~*

That evening we camped within a small ridge made by black stone jutting up through the landscape. Shards of the dark rock rose around our camp like dark sentinels, dwarfing our horses.

After we had eaten, a small, dull meal of dried vegetable soup and hard bread, I went for a short walk, exploring among the crevices and cracks between the giant stones.

While doing so, I made a glorious discovery.

"There are hot springs!" I cried out, waving my hands like a mad woman as I scrambled down the rocks and back into camp.

"Why do you think we stopped here?" asked Kageyama irritably.

"At last," I said, voice desperate. "At last I will be clean." I hurried to where the piebald... where In'yii's saddle lay, and dug out a thin cotton towel from the saddle bag as well as clean under garments.

"Ao..." Sanli cautioned. "It will soon be dark, and my boundary doesn't extend that far. You should wait till morning, when it's safer."

"Not a chance," I said. "If you are so worried, join me." I gave a wink and walked away, towel over one shoulder.

The hot spring was small, not big enough for more than two men, and wedged amongst the jagged black rocks. I stripped off my clothes and slipped in in one breath.

Thankfully the wind had died with evening. I sank down up to my shoulders, then neck, the warm water loosing tied muscles that had been clenched tight with riding and cold. The mineral smells of sulfur and stone and deep dark places rose strongly from the water, but I was willing to endure them for the warmth.

I lay back, and watched the sky turn from vibrant pink to dark purple, and at last the deep navy of night.

The stars started to come out, and as one my breath and the steam of the hot spring rose to greet them.

It got later, the sky darker, and I knew I should head back to camp. I heard the distant sounds of the men setting up tents, the clack of the hollow bamboo poles, the thud of hammers as they drove the tent pegs into the fast freezing earth.

I knew I should get back and return to camp while the fire was still high so I could dry, but I could not bring myself to leave the warmth of the hot spring.

Presently the sounds from the camp grew quiet. Had the men turned in without me? I was a little dismayed. Sanli had expressed concern for my safety. To go and sleep while I was out here—

"How's the water?" Sanli asked, face suddenly above my own.

I gave a gasp and jumped, steaming water splashing everywhere.

Sanli laughed and stepped back. "Better come out of there now. You'll cook soon. And you look much tastier than the soup we had earlier. I might be tempted," Sanli winked down at me.

I smiled my most sultry smile up at him. "Why don't you have a taste then?"

He laughed and turned back. "I'm already full. I put a hot stone from the fire beneath your bedroll to warm it. Hurry back before it gets cold."

Knowing that I would not be returning to a cold bedroll helped me to slip from the hot spring into the freezing night, and back into my clothes. Cursing the cold, I hurried back across the sharp rocks, my sheepskin boots catching on their points.

When I returned to camp, the fire had already been stirred to embers, and the horses hobbled for the night. The camp looked as it should, yet something was off...

...I realized two tents had been set up instead of one.

"What is this?" I exclaimed, angry. I realized now why the men had not protested more at my going to the hot spring at night. They had planned this.

Sanli stood waiting beside my tent. "I'm not sleeping alone," I said angrily.

"I know," the prince said. "I'm sleeping with you. Quick, I'm freezing." And he ducked into my tent.

I followed. Inside the air was warm. I saw that several stones from the fire had been placed inside.

I slipped beneath the bearskin, feeling the warmth radiating up from the stone placed by our feet.

Sanli tied the tent flaps together tight. He kicked off his boots, then slid beneath the bearskin, pulling me to him. "See, this is plenty warm enough, even with only two of us."

"Why are we in here and they're over there? It would be even warmer with two more bodies."

"I couldn't stand seeing Zakhar suffer anymore," said Sanli.

"I will not tease him again," I promised.

"It's not just that. Can't you tell he hasn't been sleeping?" Sanli asked.

I thought. I had noticed Zakhar had looked tired as of late, with dark patches under his eyes. I had assumed he was tired from the journey. I didn't realize having me sleep near him was keeping him awake.

Was he really so enamored with me? That he could not stand to sleep by my side?

How troublesome, to be a man.

"It is not my fault, the longings of others," I said. "I do not see why I should be punished for it."

"You're not being punished. You get me beside you!" Sanli said, with false enthusiasm.

I snorted, then thought. "Prince. Finish your tale. Of your childhood. I want to know why you alone were adopted into the family, when so many of your late father's other bastard children were not."

There was a pause, and then Sanli said close to my ear: "How about I tell you how I first came to hear of the Sixth God instead?"

I nodded, and Sanli began his tale.
*~*~*~*~*~*

It was early spring. My mother and I were traveling in the plains of the Central Kingdom, north of the Golden City. They look not unlike here, low open hills rolling as far as the eye can see, but the weather there is less severe, and the landscape less barren of people. Traders, herders, and the occasional farming town; we passed them all as we wandered.

It had been a long, weary day of travel. My mother's face was worried as we stopped for the night, and I knew that we would have nothing to eat again.

We camped away from the road, near a small spring that sprang from some rocks that had grown mossy with the water. I was young, no more than five years of age, but even I knew why we camped out of sight of the road, hidden behind a hillock.

A woman and a young boy traveling alone were not safe, even within the empire, even so close to the capital.

As we made camp, my mother grew more worried. I knew she was pondering out what we would eat, for there was nothing to scavenge in this barren landscape. No berries, or plants, or roots.

In the end, we chewed on stems of grass, and made a tea from them.

"Here," said my mother, pouring me a cup from our small tin pot. It was what we cooked and served all our meals in. One side of the pan had a strange shaped dent that looked somewhere between a horse and a dog.

"The spring water makes it taste sweet, doesn't it?" my mother said.

I took a sip of the liquid. It was bitter. "Yes," I lied.

When we had filled our bellies with warm, bitter liquid, we lay down for sleep, pulling our thin blanket tight against the chill spring night.

But neither of us could sleep. I heard my mother's breathing close behind me, and felt her breath on my neck. Her breathing was too soft, too quiet for sleep. I heard her stomach growl. Then my own.

We both lay awake, side by side, pretending to sleep, our stomachs growling at one another in the darkness like dogs snarling over the same bone.

It was around midnight we heard the voices.

"I think there's a spring round about 'ere," a rough voice said. Male.

"Aye. Should be," another voice, also a man.

"It's jus round the hill," said a third. The voice was slurred.

At the first voice my mother had tensed, drawing me toward her. By the time the third man spoke, she was standing, our pack on her back, pulling me to my feet with one hand and rolling up our bed roll with the other.

In the shadows of the night, I saw her raise one pale finger to her mouth. A gesture for silence.

She took my hand, and led me away.

We circled the hill, the opposite direction from where the voices had come from. When we returned to the road, my mother looked both ways, then struck out, pulling me quickly after her into the night.

"Hurry, Sol'i," she breathed.

Above us, the sky was full of stars, but there was no moon and the night was dark.

We had only gone a short distance when my mother pulled me off the main road, onto a track so narrow it could only have been used by animals.

I stumbled several times, missing my footing on the narrow path. My mother dragged me back up roughly by my hand.

Her strength was great from carrying all our possessions on her back. Lifting me was small work. It hurt, when she pulled me up, and I remember resenting her for it, even though my young mind knew her roughness was only out of her fear and her desire to keep me safe.

Children really are terribly selfish creatures.

We followed the track around one hill, and over the next, and then round another. Even I, used to travel, was growing tired of the forced, fast march through the dark. I was about to throw myself down like the child I was and demand we stop and sleep where we were, when my mother froze so suddenly I stepped into her back.

"Here," she said. "We'll sleep here."

I turned to look. In the near dark of the night, I saw a darker hole opening into the hillside.

I clutched at my mother's clothing.

"I don't want to go in there," I said.

"We will be safe in there, Sol'i'yah, and warmer than we would out here," my mother said. She gathered up a handful of dry grass, then took my hand and led me through the opening.

As we entered my mother had to duck her head. A stone lintel had been pushed into the hillside, and on it characters had been carved, and then carved out once more with vicious hacks.

I could not read what was written, but I recognized the character for 'rain' as it resembled the thing it described. Four drops falling from a clouded sky.

And then we were in darkness.

My mother's hand was the only warm thing as we travelled deeper into the dark earth. I stumbled on the uneven floor, and put out a hand to catch myself. I felt cold, damp earth, and withdrew my hand quickly, as though it was something dangerous, something obscene.

My mother stopped, and let my hand go.

I cried out. "Mother? Mother?!"

"Shhh. It's alright, I'm just making a light."

A second later I heard tinder struck to flint, and sparks jumped in the darkness. Again. And again.

Finally the sparks caught the dry grass my mother had placed on the tunnel floor. Quickly my mother fed more grass into the flame. Light spread around the space, showing that we were in a small hollowed out cave in the earth, little better than an animal's den. Perhaps it had been such at one time, and humans had simply raised the roof so as to be able to stand.

I looked behind me and gasped.

A figure stood just beside me and my mother. A figure with six arms, and a ferocious mouth. The arms waved, the mouth gaped, and the eyes were wide and wild.

I shrieked and stepped back. My foot slipped on some shale, and I fell to the floor.

My mother turned to me and laughed, helping me up. "It is just a statue. Nothing to be afraid of. Come see."

She took my hand and led me closer.

It was indeed a statue, made of dark rock, grown darker with age. It was a woman, lean and slender, who wore nothing but a carved gown about her waist. Her abdomen was bare, exposing her round breasts and allowing the six arms that sprouted from her sides to roam freely.

In the flickering light of my mother's fire, the arms seemed to twine and wave with their own shadows, as though the statue were elegantly dancing.

Something, time or a violent hand, had broken the statue's chin off. A too-large hole yawned where the mouth should be, giving her the fearful visage of a woman wailing.

The statue's eyes were blank. Like a dead animal.

I did not like it. I did not like that place. I wanted to leave.

I told my mother so. "Come now. We are not leaving," my mother chided. "We will be warm here, and safe for tonight. No one will venture in here. This is the fallen god."

My mother raised her hand, tracing along the folds of the statue's gown. "She is the god of wanderers, of the forsaken. She is our god."

My mother returned to the fire, to settle it so it burned low and hot and would not die in the night.

I stayed beside the statue, daring myself to touch it. The stone was cool beneath my small hand. I ran my hand down the statue's leg to its foot, tracing the five toes carved there. I imagined the statue laughing as I tickled the stone feet.

"She is our god," my mother had said, eyes fond.

Suddenly, the statue before me was no longer a frightening stranger, but a welcoming friend.

When my mother had settled the fire, and spread our bedroll, and pulled me to her chest once more for sleep, I asked her to tell me the story of the god who stood beside us.

"Well," said my mother. "I don't know it well. I believe she was a beautiful woman, so beautiful that men would go to war for her, would die for a touch of her hand. But she fell in love with the wrong man, and in doing so incurred the wrath of another. And so she was cast out, and cursed, and forced to roam the earth, always without a home."

"Like us," I said, eager.

"Yes. A bit like us," my mother agreed. "But condemned to a more terrible fate, for she wanders alone."

I thought, what my life would be like without my mother, and suddenly an empty void yawned in my mind where she had been. It terrified me, the thought of being without her.

I wriggled closer, my small hands gripping the worn wool of her clothes so tight it near ripped. My mother pulled my head toward her, and kissed the top.

"Don't worry Sol'iyah. I am here."

I told her I wanted more stories of the wandering goddess. My mother, having already told me all she knew of the sixth god, paused a moment to think, and then began a tale that, even at five years of age, I knew she was making up as she went along.

"Once there was a woman who lived alone in the forest. She was very beautiful, but she did not know it, for as I said, she lived alone, and had never met another soul..."

I fell asleep, stomach empty, but warm, my mother's voice soft in my ear, and the forgotten woman standing guard like a sentinel.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"That was the first night my mother spoke of you. I demanded more stories, the next night, and the night after, and she would tell them to me," said Sanli, his own voice at my ear.

I had stayed silent throughout his story. I was not sure what captivated me more, the soft rhythm of Sanli's voice, or the simple tale he told.

Either way, I did not want his words to end.

"I realize now," Sanli continued. "That a lot of what she told me she had made up. Some of it came from stories of other gods. After we came to the valley, and I learned how to read, I began to search for everything I could find of you, every scrap of fact or fiction in any book or scroll I could get my hands on."

I continued to lie still, beside him. When I did not move, Sanli asked:

"Ao? Are you awake?"

I did not say anything.

"Ao?"

I briefly thought to feign sleep, but changed my mind. "I am sorry to disappoint, but I have never, in any of my forms, had six arms Little Prince."

Sanli laughed. "I never thought you did. Or else how could you have been the most beautiful woman imaginable?"

We lay in silence, but it was a silence poised on the edge of unsaid things.

"What was it your mother called you?" I asked finally.

"Sol'i. Or 'Sol'iyah'. It is my mother's language. From Samhan."

"Was that your name, before?"

"Yes. Well, at least, I think it was my name. It was all my mother ever called me."

"What does it mean?" I spoke the languages of Wa and the Inner Empire, but the words of Samhan had always eluded me save for a few phrases.

"It means 'Little Pine Needle'," said Sanli. "Bit strange really. I'm not sure why she called me that."

"It is because of your eyes, I suppose."

"Oh, yes. They are green, aren't they?" He laughed at himself. "I forget, since I can't see them."

I could not keep from laughing as well. "Of course you can't."

We lay silent a long time. The warmth from the rocks had faded, and I found myself edging closer to Sanli, for his warmth.

"Good night, Ao," Sanli said finally, his breath by my ear.

"Good night, Little Prince," I replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*