"You cannot spend the rest of your life blind drunk," said Fengzi, looking down on him. "Alright, you could. But it would be a very brief rest of your life." She shaded her forehead so she could look him in the (bloodshot, he assumed) eye. "Why don't you just perform the rituals? It's not really so much to ask."
"Yes it is." Wen tried to sit up, subsiding to the bed-mat when his head and stomach threatened him with the Five Purges. "Because it's not just the rituals. It's what they represent: the ancestors want to run your life. Everything you want to do, you have to ask yourself first if the ancestors approve. When Chin Gwai decided that you needed to be murdered rather than ransomed, it was evidently because his ancestors wanted it done that way. And if something goes wrong, you spend hours trying to work out which ancestor is mad at you. They think your life is theirs by right, just because they founded the family or kept it in rice from one dynasty to the next. I might have considered it if it would keep my father alive. But he's dead now, and this is no way for a pirate to live."
"But plenty of our sailors venerate their ancestors."
"They venerate them," Wen said. "They aren't forced to entertain them all the time. And they follow my orders, not the dictates of old ghosts—and not because I think they should, but because I have proven they should. These grandfathers of mine have proven nothing, almost from the moment they appeared. Except a profound nuisance."
"Seems to me they are trying to prove that you should do what they say," she said. He could hear the smile even without being able to see it.
"Which is why I will no longer do what they say. My life is for me to decide."
"Do you know what your problem is?" Fengzi turned and walked away; Wen found himself staring at the way she moved. At the beach she turned and said, over her shoulder, "You worry too much about a bunch of invisible old men." She slipped off her slippers and began walking into the water. "I'm going for a swim," she said. "I might permit you to join me, if that's what I have to do to ensure that you distract yourself in a way that doesn't involve swallowing dangerous amounts of Pocapetl's cactus piss."
"It's not a cactus," Wen said, but now the distinction didn't seem to matter so much. He struggled to get to his feet.
"That's disgusting," said Number One Grandfather. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
"No, no, no," said Wen. "Not now."
"What did you say?" Fengzi stopped; she was scarcely into the water, but her silk trousers were wet and clinging to her in a way that ordinarily would be very interesting. "You don't want to come swimming?"
"Not that. Not you." Wen threw his arms out and began beating the grass. "They've come back."
"Of course we've come back," said Number One Grandfather. "You were about to bring disgrace on the family with this, this person. Do you think we want your son born of her? She is most unsuitable."
"Just look at those ankles," said another grandfather.
"And why is she still dressed? In my day —"
"Shut up, you," said Number One Grandfather.
"That's it." Wen crawled until he could stand, then remained, wobbling a bit, until he was sure he wasn't going to throw up.
"This," he said, "means war."
No comments:
Post a Comment