The Wandering God

18 In Sight But Out Of Reach 1/4

可望而不可即
kě wàng ér bùkě jí
Can see but can not approach.
Within sight but beyond reach-unattainable.

It was sometime around the end of the ox hour when Zakhar awoke in a familiar room that was not his own. He knew the hour by the fact that it was still and quiet, a rare thing in Zhanghai's pleasure district. The sound of flutes and the strum of three string guitars was absent. The voices of the girls calling out to draw customers to their establishments had stopped. There were no sounds at all except for the distant laughter of one lone reveler still awake, and the trickle of water from an ornamental stream in a courtyard somewhere below.

Rising, Zakhar went to the window. Looking out across the ornately carved roofs of the tea houses and brothels he saw that the eastern sky was still dark. He turned and absently surveyed the room, uninterested in the elegant contents, the sofas and the portraits of beautiful women on the walls, the vases filled with silk and real flowers. The huge bed piled with cushions and silk sheets from which he had just risen.

He found his clothes folded and stacked neatly for him upon one of the sofas. He dressed quickly and then went to the door. "I'll see you, Mei," he said. A pale arm rose from the silk sheets of the bed and a mumbled reply came from beneath the pillows.

Zakhar made his way down the stairs to the courtyard. It had been roofed over above with tarp, and the area below was filled with woven wicker sofas where patrons could relax while being served by the women of Tianshi Sheng. No one was there now, but empty cups on tables and a few scattered items of clothing showed it had been busy earlier.

As Zakhar walked past the rooms, he felt the lines of his tattoos swirl and change. Although the girls of Tian Shi Sheng were human, the clientele were often not. Zakhar barely needed to glance at his arms to know. A Dama in one room, and Dayang in another. A horse and sheep. Probably traders visiting Zhanghai for business, who had decided spending their night in the arms of a pretty girl was the best way to avoid homesickness.

Zakhar could not condemn them. After all, the reason he came to the brothel was no better.

The sound of a broom caused Zakhar to pause. From behind a column, a young girl emerged, no older than fourteen years, slowly sweeping the stones in front of her with a long brush broom. Zakhar knew the girl. Ying. She had lost both her parents during a raid by Northern soldiers on her village. When Mei had found the girl, she had been skin and bones, begging on the streets of Zhanghai. Mei had brought her in, and, not wanting to force her into the profession of the other women at Tianshi  Sheng, had put her to work cleaning.

Ying had taken to her job with relish, and often helped out with other tasks around the brothel as well. Inherently shy, the girl avoided most of the brothels customers, but Zakhar knew that often times the girl would play go with Kageyama in the kitchen while the kitsune was waiting on Sanli.

As Zakhar approached, Ying looked up, fearfully. Her eyes fixed on his tattoos, running from the collar of his shirt up his neck, and her hands tightened on the broom. Zakhar felt his gut clench. Of course she was afraid of him. Northern men with tattoos like his had killed her family.

Zakhar smiled gently at her as he approached, and moved to the side so as to give the girl a wide berth and not scare her. He felt her eyes follow him.

Then the girl's voice, soft and shy, reached him. "Tell Lord Kageyama I've been practicing. He doesn't need to let me win anymore."

Zakhar laughed softly, turning back to the girl. "Hah, I doubt that fox would willingly lose to anyone. If you won, you won. You must be very skilled. Kageyama's been playing a long time." The girl blushed, twisting her hands around the broom handle in her embarrassment. "Have a good night," Zakhar said, bowing slightly, before departing.