Chapter 7 – Thanksgiving

The interior of the house was larger than Yang would have assumed, but it was crowded with furniture, people and food. Most of the occupants were adult men, burly and strong-shouldered like The Other. However, these men were flesh and blood… and sweat, Yang realized, resisting the urge to hold his nose. Additionally, some of these men looked sick, slouching lethargically on their stools and gazing into their cups lovingly. Yang stored all this information for later analysis and focused on the task at hand. Things were a little easier now that he didn't need to worry about Tyaga detecting his ulterior motives for being here.

"You won't believe who I found, Papa!" Chen cried, bounding across the floor into the arms of one of the rowdy, dirty men at the table. Her father had the same light hair (though shot through with dirty grey) and brown eyes, but his features were more angular, radiating masculinity.

However, even his stern face lit up with shock when he realized who he was staring at. This 'Papa' deposited his daughter carefully on her feet before rising to his own.

"The spirits bless us tonight, my friends!" His deep voice bellowed. His breath smelled sharp, from the mysterious drink, Yang supposed. Conversation along the table ground to a halt, all of them sharing the same look of surprise Chen had worn at first, bringing the ghost of a smile to Yang's lips.

Before he knew it, Yang was being hoisted onto Papa's shoulder and paraded around the small room as the men all bellowed some song in his honor. Not a few times, Yang had to duck out of the way of some hanging lantern or other as the singing went on and on.

At long last the bellowing subsided and Yang was placed in a seat of honor, with a plate of steamed marsh-roots and a mug of that same sharp drink placed before him, like some sort of king-spirit, he thought. The whole table was staring at him expectantly, as if for some great wisdom he might impart.

The silence was as absolute in that moment as it had been absent a few moments ago. With an internal shock, Yang realized this might be his chance to set his plan in motion. He thought about backing out, running while he still could, hiding like Tyaga in the belly of some tree until he aged and died.

No. He would not let his mother down, despite having had no say in the promising of this Wish. He knew she would not ask for this if there were not a good reason.

"I take it that you recognize me." Yang said, a charismatic smile splitting his face. He felt dirty.

This was greeted with a chorus of cheers which took a few moments to subside.

"Of course we do, young Hero." Said Papa, his weathered face still mirthful. Yang tried his best to return the smile and felt the result was at least satisfactory.

"But I do not recognize you, as your faces were hidden from me by masks." Yang continued, forcing himself to take a sip from his mug. The stuff was vile, which he had expected and so it did not ruffle his manners.

"Well," said Papa, "I am Fei, Chief of the Chiyohs you see before you." This sparked another round of cheers and drinking, which Yang forced himself to participate in. Then, Fei grew serious in the lull of noise.

"You saved my life that night, and those of many others when you let the rivers loose, though some here might not believe it." Fei continued, casting his gaze around the table. Some men averted their eyes, a pair at the back discreetly exchanged coins.

"It is my honor, then." Yang said, though he suspected there were still those who doubted his legitimacy, and his head was feeling fuzzy. Another round of cheers, another forced gulp of drink.

"But how did you know where to send the river, to destroy only the Siiwahs?" Came a cry from near the back of the room. Yang's smile slipped, the dizziness creeping up on him.

"How could I control the river?" Yang asked, not realizing his slip.

Silence.

Yang's mind reeled for a moment, half expecting another rousing applause to his words. The expressions around the room ranged from confusion to murder. Chen reverted to her previous, befuddled expression.

"That is of course because," Yang corrected in a flash of lucidity, "the River already knew it was the Chiyohs who must win this war!" He bellowed, letting the men hear what they wanted to in his words. It was a narrow save, as men once again cheered in favor of their Savior. Yang thought he might throw up.