“How long has this ritual been going on for?” I ask.
“No one knows for sure. But if you’re the one hundredth bride, it stands to reason for as long as that. Things get a bit hazy in the Sea God’s realm, where spirits and gods can live indefinitely. One day is much like the next. One century, too, for that matter.
“Shin has always protected the Sea God. He’s the head of Lotus House, and his duty is to serve him. Nothing drives Shin like his sense of duty.”
If he protects the Sea God, then should he not help the brides in breaking the curse? But I swallow my question for now.
Shin leads us across the unlit eastern bridge I saw earlier with Nari, toward the pavilion on the lake. The bright interior is filled with people reclining on silk cushions as they pick from tables laden with fruit and colorful rice cakes. I spot what must be the lords of Tiger and Crane Houses, judging by the miniature courts they’ve set up on either side of the pavilion.
The music stops at our arrival. Kirin approaches, his light, enigmatic eyes sweeping over me before settling on Shin.
“They’re here,” he says.
At first I think he means the lords of Tiger and Crane Houses, but then I notice that every person in the pavilion has their gaze trained on the sky over the lake.
A storm appears to be rolling in, bringing with it that sul-furic stench from before, but now it’s more pronounced. Inside the pavilion, guests lift silken cloths to their mouths. The heat grows unbearable, dry and thick. A scalding wind sweeps low across the ground, and the Red String of Fate whips to the side. Above, the sky begins to writhe, swelling and pulsating as if a great heart beats within the darkness.
At first, I can’t discern what I see, but then I start to make out shapes in the tumult. Snakelike creatures, as large as dragons, but without horns or limbs. They blend with the sky in colors of deep red, indigo, and black.
“Imugi,” Kirin growls.
My grandmother’s stories never spoke of creatures such as these, as large as rivers, and so many in number they appear to swallow the night.
I feel a pressure on my shoulder. “Stay here,” Shin says, pushing me lightly toward Kirin. “Namgi, with me.” As Shin turns away, Kirin frowns, though his eyes never land on the bright ribbon. Like Namgi, he can’t see it.
Together Shin and Namgi move to the opening of the pavilion that faces the well-lit western bridge, the crowd stepping back to give them space.
One by one, the creatures in the sky descend into the lake outside the pavilion. As they plunge downward, gusts of wind from their bodies blow out the lanterns on the bridge, leaving only the pavilion in light. There’s a resounding boom, and water from the lake splashes onto the smooth wooden floorboards. Several guests scream, hushed quickly by their neighbors. In the ensuing silence, all eyes turn to where the end of the bridge meets the pavilion. In my imagination, I conjure up the gruesome face of a snakelike dragon stretching its neck through the opening, eyes burning like fire.
The blackness undulates. Those standing nearest scatter in fear. I hold my breath.
A man steps off the bridge, followed closely by two others. They have tall, wiry bodies, dark hair, and black eyes, though something about their appearances seems familiar. They enter the pavilion, moving swiftly and silently through the crowd. Behind them, the lake is empty. No sign of the snake creatures. And yet, as I watch these men prowl nearer, I have the distinct impression that the great beasts haven’t vanished. They walk among us.
The first of them reaches Shin, giving a short, succinct bow. “Lord Shin.”
“Ryugi.”
“We’ve come to bear witness for the Goddess of Moon and Memory. Where is the soul of the Sea God’s bride?”
Shin hesitates for a brief moment, then speaks, his voice carrying across the pavilion. “I don’t have it.”
Murmurings break out in the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the tall lord of Crane House lean over to whisper something into the stout lord of Tiger’s ear.
Ryugi frowns. “I don’t believe you. You’ve never shown up without it.” His hooded gaze sweeps the assembled people. “You must have the bride. Where is she?”
Shin’s eyes flit briefly to the Red String of Fate. By now it’s clear the string is invisible to everyone but us. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
Ryugi steps forward with a growl. “What is this? Do you defy the goddess?”
I try to remember if I know anything about the Goddess of Moon and Memory, but though I’m familiar with most of the gods and goddesses of the realm, I have no knowledge of her.