Page 23 of Between Ghosts and Gods

“I’m not.” Anger was a failing, a sign of one’s lack of self-discipline and control. The Celestial Empress has infinite patience for you. Therefore, you must show infinite patience when dealing with those who have wronged you.

“I wouldn’t have lost. The palace cook used to let me play kirit with him and the other servants. I know how to play and I know how to cheat,” he said with an infuriating sense of self-confidence, as if every statement he made was not an opinion but a declaration of fact. Kasu was so annoyed she hardly noticed that he had admitted to cheating. Another mark against the Heavenly Principles.

“I have a job to do. I’ll talk to you later.” She seized his tiles and dropped his sword onto the counter.

Arun grabbed his weapon and fastened it to his waist with a scowl. “You don’t have to talk to me at all. You don’t have to help me. I got all the information I need.”

Hanyu had said that there was a lady from the heavens with a reincarnation wheel in the theatre district. A lady offering ghosts the chance to be reborn in exchange for payment. Something didn’t sit right with Kasu, though. If that was true, surely the gods knew about the missing wheel. So why had the heavens not taken action?

Kasu squared her shoulders like a fighter about to enter the ring. “If you want to find the truth, you need to be smart about it. Smart and safe. Just because you’re disguised as a ghost doesn’t mean nothing will hurt you. The streets change every day and there are plenty of demons who eat ghosts for fun. You need a guide.”

“Eat.” Arun met her unflinching gaze, his dark eyes flickering over her as if he could take her apart like a clockwork mechanism. “You mean like what happened to that ghost … to Hanyu? I didn’t realize that he was suffering. I wouldn’t have antagonized him so much if I had…” His expression turned contrite. Was he actually feeling guilty about what had happened?

Kasu could only imagine the kind of anguish one had to endure before becoming a hungry ghost. For a regular ghost to turn like that, they had to feel an intense and sustained hatred, a seething despair that lasted months, years. Had Hanyu really been suffering that much? Who had he hated with such burning intensity? Or perhaps it was not a matter of who but what. Maybe it was his situation, his entire un-life, that he despised.

The doors to Camellia House blew open.

“Kasu! Miss Kasu, you’ve got to help me. I beg you!”

A ghost woman in ragged robes ran straight for her exchange desk, almost colliding with the hard edge of the counter.

“What have you brought me?” Kasu took a step back and waited for the woman to recover her breath.

The ghost stretched her hands behind her neck and unfastened a simple gold necklace. Kasu held it up to her face, inspecting the delicate metal links, searching for a goldsmith’s mark stamped into the clasp.

The value of each trade came down to a simple equation of knowing how much the item was worth to the patron and how much it might be worth to everyone else. There were no hard and fast rules; it was something Kasu had learned how to intuit over the years. Whenever ghosts came to her, wanting a handful of tiles in exchange for bolts of silk, a memory of a beloved pet or a locket from a lover, she could always feel how much each item meant to them. It was in their eyes. She could always see it in their eyes.

Kasu placed the chain on one side of the counter and a handful of tiles on the other.

“I can give you ten for it.”

“That’s it?” The ghost gaped at her.

“That’s all it’s worth.” It did not feel good, but it was the truth. The only reason she was offering ten tiles was for the sentimental value it held – the necklace was not real gold, merely gold-plated – likely something the woman had been buried or cremated with if it had made its way down to the under-realm with her. She must have treasured it while she was still alive.

“Can’t you give me a little more? Five – no, just two more tiles is all I’m asking!” Tears welled up in the ghost’s large, dark eyes.

“Ten’s all you’re getting.” Kasu eyed the spot where the ghost’s hands clasped the edge of the counter.

“You can’t do this to me!”

“If you’re going to make a fuss, I’ll throw you out.” Kasu reached a hand beneath her counter where she kept a jade bell. Banse and Manzu would come to her aid at the first ring. Over the long years the three of them had worked together, standing in the same position day after day, Kasu had learned that she could rely on them. Despite the bribes they took, they were probably the only demons she could ever trust.

“Is your heart made of stone?” the ghost wailed. “I have been in the under-realm for five centuries. I can’t take it any more! I just want to move on!”

“You and everyone else who comes here,” Kasu muttered. No matter how desperately the ghosts at her exchange desk begged, she could not give one customer more than they deserved. It was unfair to the others.

But Arun—

Arun had been a mistake. She had given him those tiles because she’d thought it was the right thing to do, what the heavens would want her to do, and he had used them against her wishes. She would not be so generous again.

“Please! Ever since Lord Onyx disappeared, they’ve closed down the fighting pits. I can’t make money selling ointments if there ain’t no one whacking each other!”

Kasu sucked in a long, steadying breath. One must be firm in one’s convictions. Hold strong to the Righteous Way and never waver – Heavenly Principle six hundred and fifty-two. Kasu was strong. The eyes of the heavens looked down upon her at all times, judging her every action. She would not waver. “You have two choices; take the trade I’m offering or leave.”

“Just two more tiles!”

Kasu turned to Arun. “Can you throw her out?”