Zhang’s banquet hall at the palace was full of humans and vampires, most holding presents in beautifully wrapped packaging for the century-old man who had dedicated his life to serving the elders.
To Ben it felt strange, but he couldn’t place why. There was a small, rebellious part of him that wondered if Erdun thought over eighty years of servitude was worth more than a fancy birthday party, but Ben suspected that the thought never crossed Erdun’s mind.
Zhang sat on a wide wooden throne with a red silk cushion and intricately carved arms decorated with gold and jade. Zhang wasn’t wearing formal white but a sky-blue coat and yellow pants. With his hair down, he looked like he was ready to celebrate.
The guest of honor sat next to Zhang, on a lower seat with similarly carved wooden arms. The chair was tall enough to support an elderly man, but Erdun still sat with ramrod-straight posture. His face was sharply triangular with wide brown eyes and a tufted white beard decorating his narrow chin. He was dressed in his finest regalia—a purple-blue del robe trimmed with gold thread and a red sash—and fitted leather boots.
Humans from all the elders’ households and numerous vampires were attending the party. Tenzin had explained that the community of humans serving the elders directly was quite small, and most of them had known each other their entire lives.
Zhang’s two closest allies, Elder Lu Dongbin and Elder Xe Xiangu, the Immortal Woman, were also in attendance with their households.
“It’s a big party for a human,” Ben said. “I’m kind of surprised.”
“It’s not often that a human reached one hundred years of age,” Tenzin said. “Not even on the island. Most die in their nineties.” Her eyes flickered. “Nima didn’t reach one hundred.”
Ben knew that Nima had been a huge part of Tenzin’s life, but she rarely talked about her. “It was sooner than you were expecting.”
“Her life wasn’t easy like those who live here.” Tenzin’s eyes were fixed on Erdun. “She said she was ready.”
Tenzin’s casual words didn’t match the churn of emotion Ben sensed in her blood. Sadness. Anger. An aching loneliness that felt akin to nostalgia.
And guilt.
“You miss Nima.” It was all he could think so say.
“She was with me for nearly eighty years.” She glanced at him. “Of course I miss her.”
“Did you…?” He frowned. “She didn’t want to change.”
Tenzin looked up, and her eyes were flashing. “I don’t want to talk about Nima.”
If Ben hadn’t sensed it was important, he wouldn’t have pressed. “Why not?”
“This is not the time.”
Ben nodded at Erdun. “The guest of honor has dozens of visitors to get through before the banquet and even then, you and I both know we’re not really eating. Why don’t we go for a walk?”
“Do you think I don’t understand what you’re doing?”
“No. I think you understand perfectly.”
She looked at him, then abruptly marched out of the room.
Ben sighed. “Avoidance, thy name is Tenzin.”
He found her in the woods to the east of the palace, sitting high in a pine tree that overlooked a frozen pond. The air was still, and in the shelter of the dense pines, the snow swallowed even the sound of the ocean.
In the middle of the grey-frosted pond was an island with a pagoda statue made of deep red-brown clay; its interior flickered with a bright gold flame.
“I knew that at some point I would forget the color of her eyes,” Tenzin said. “So I made them find a clay that was as close as I could remember.”
“She must have been very beautiful.”
“She was stunning.” Tenzin’s voice was barely a whisper. “She was sunlight.” She glanced at him, then back to the pagoda. “Like the flame. They’re not supposed to let the lantern go out, but it happens sometimes. She would have told me not to be angry. Humans make mistakes.”
“Is this where she’s buried?”
“She was cremated by Elder He. Her ashes are here.”
Ben perched next to her, keeping his distance. “Why here?”
“It was the part of the gardens she loved the most. Nima loved wild places. Wild things. She made friends with the crows in the mountains. Have you noticed them at the house in Tibet?”
“The crows bring you presents,” Ben said. “I thought that was your thing.”
She shook her head. “It was Nima. She always left shiny things for them. She fed them and left little pieces of foil or coins. Any shiny thing that caught her eye, she’d leave for them by the house with corn.”
“So they bring her gifts even though she’s gone now.”
“Their children remember her. I told them when she passed, but I don’t know if they understood. She loved the gardens in the palace, but she loved wild things the best.”
That’s why she loved you.
Ben nodded. “This was a good place then. She’d be happy here in the forest.”
“She didn’t want to change.” She looked at Ben. “Like someone else I know.”
“Ah.” Ben nodded slowly.
“And then years later, there came a time when she changed her mind. But it was too late, she said. I told her it didn’t matter, but she…” Tenzin shook her head. “She said she didn’t want an aged body for eternity.” Her voice was bitter. “As if I would care about that.”
“You were angry.”
“I was very, very angry.” Tenzin took a deep breath and let it out. “I wasn’t as forgiving then. I refused to see her for almost ten years. She came here to work for Zhang because I didn’t want to see her.”
Ben closed his eyes. “Tenzin, ten years is a long time for a human.”
“I told you I wasn’t as forgiving then.” Tenzin stared at the lantern. “She loved me more than I deserved.”
“Tiny—”
“No.” She held up a hand. “Don’t say I deserved to be loved, because I didn’t deserve her. I was arrogant. I took her feelings for granted. I knew she feared me at times, and I used that to get what I wanted when she disagreed with me.” Tenzin looked at him. “I am not a good person, Benjamin.”
He put his arm around her anyway. “We all make mistakes and recognize things we should have done differently over time. That’s what shows us we’re growing.”
“Am I though?” She looked at him. “I was angry when she didn’t want to change. I was angry every time you said it too.”
So you didn’t take a chance with me, did you?
Ben’s arm dropped and he looked away. He’d been trying not to relate what had led to his own turning to what had happened between Tenzin and Nima, but it was difficult. Nima had been stubborn about her mortal life, and so had Ben.
They’d had very different fates in the end.
“I can’t apologize for it, my Benjamin.” She stared at him. “Would you have left me with another lantern to stare at for eternity?”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know what I would have done or said or regretted if I’d stayed human, Tenzin.” He stared at the flickering lantern that would forever remind him of the swiftness that was human life, so easily snuffed by the wind.