Page 13 of The Cinders

A soft sigh came from the shoemaker.‘What a terrible burden for a child, to carry such a memory.’He sat back on his heels, and did not blink as he regarded Xian.‘But do not tell me you burden yourself more greatly by thinking her loss your fault.A child cannot be blamed for such things.Nor would your mother ever wish such a fate for you, I’m sure.What happened was the rule of the gods, not a young boy’s fear.’

There were rumours on that, of course.That jealousy had begun the blaze long before it ignited with the roll of an ember onto a rug.But the years and rumours had never dwindled Xian’s guilt; he should have run when the smoke billowed.

Still, Song Lim’s words shifted some of the weight upon Xian’s back.

Not a single soul had spoken to him so plainly.

‘I should have run,’ he whispered so softly Song Lim stretched closer to hear him.‘I should have run.’

‘Fear makes us turn to stone, Xian.We are all the same in that.’

The sting behind Xian’s eyes threatened to march tears forward; tears he’d not shed in many years.He barely registered the shoemaker calling him by name.

‘Not my mother…’ If Xian were her fox, she was his wolf.Fierce and protective till the very end.‘They called her a sorceress, a concubine witch, intent on reaching the throne, but they were wrong.She was a daughter of heaven already, talented and beautiful.’His memories, though dimmed, rushed forth.He’d not allowed them to swim in his mind for years; now their presence had him aching.‘Her voice, it was so lovely.She truly sang like a nightingale.I recall her singing me to sleep most nights, but I tried so hard to stay awake because I wished to listen to her.’

Song Lim grinned, his eyes warm.‘And she danced?You must have taken your talent from her.I’m told your dance is a sight to behold.’

Xian’s smile spread so wide he felt the tug of reluctant skin at his cheek.‘I could not claim to be even half as good as my mother.She was a wonderful dancer.The very best in the Forbidden City, in all of China.’He laughed at his grandiose words.‘I can only dream to become so talented as her.Though of course, it was said that magic moved her, nothing else.No one could believe a single person held so many gifts.But she did.’

‘Bah, jealous fools, all of them.They probably danced as well as me, and that is to say like sacks shifting about on the back of a cart.’

Xian’s laughter burst from him.‘I’m sure you are not so terrible.’

‘I wouldn’t torture you with finding out.Tell me more of your mother, did she teach you?’

‘Yes.’Xian’s mind flooded with those moments.He was breathless with their freedom.Oblivious to the drums that still marked the time.‘Many hours in the garden…beneath weeping willow trees so we were hidden.I was frightened I’d be seen, and laughed at for being so flat-footed.Likely that was why she called me her little fox, I was always sneaking off to find somewhere to practice what she’d taught me.’

The childish worries of a boy who’d been living his best moments, and did not realise it.

‘Well, it seems all that practice did you very well.And it is a terrible pity that your mother does not live to see it.’Song Lim set down the damp cloth and rose to his feet.He was shorter than Xian by half a head, a slight difference somehow negated by the bold presence of the man.‘One day, perhaps, you’d do me the honour of allowing me to make some shoes for you, your highness.A pair perfect for dancing.’

Xian played his teeth at his lip, wondering how a few sips of huangjiu could loosen his tongue so well.He’d said so much more than he’d intended.Song Lim was a stranger, but speaking with him came as easily as the dance.The sense of foreboding Xian had experienced earlier had not vanished, but was so well buried, he’d almost forgotten it.

‘I would like that,’ he said.‘How long do you think you shall stay in Kunming?’

‘Until the New Year is my plan.But I am a restless creature.’Song Lim replied.‘I may be gone before the week is out.’

‘Oh.’Xian’s lifted mood dipped; the drum beats seeming louder.‘There may not be time for a fitting, then.The New Year Celebrations are a busy time at the manor.’

‘But surely you are not called upon every hour of every day?’Song Lim regarded him with a frown.

And like he’d been snapped from a dream, Xian’s mood returned to that of earlier; low and tense.Fear ran its claws over his heart.‘Never mind.I have enough shoes.Save your materials for another.’

‘But I don’t—’

‘Master Song, have you finished with my gown?’He set down his cup hard against the wood.

Song Lim pressed his lips and nodded.‘Yes, yes, it is all done.But that bruise on your leg will need covering.’

The mention of the injury put out the sparks that had risen with thoughts of pleasant childhood days.‘Your ash water will not fix that, Master Song.I will tend to it.’

‘Very well.’He threw down the sodden cloth with as much willfulness as Xian had with the glass.‘We are done here then.’He regarded Xian with a carefully guarded look, then turned his head.‘Heng, we need those slippers, right now.’

‘They’re not yet dry around the heel, a few moments more,’ she called.

But before Song Lim could reply, a young man burst through the door; face reddened, hair dishevelled.Xian knew him at once.A trusted messenger of Daiyu.But Song Lim quickly placed himself between Xian and the newcomer.

‘Come no closer.’His voice rumbled with authority.