Page 39 of The Cinders
‘Go where, Master Lim?I don’t understand what is going on.’
‘It is simple.’He held up the slipper, dull now but no less beautiful.‘This slipper belongs to Xian, and is pointless on its own.I will return to him what he has lost.That is what I must do.’
Fish scales aside, shoes were intended as pairs.
Daiyu glanced between him and the slipper several times before she finally nodded.‘Do you have a horse?’
Lim scowled at his predicament.‘No.I sold it when I arrived as I needed the coin for lodgings.’
‘Never mind, I can arrange a fast horse, and provisions.My father and I have many favours we can call in.The roads are muddy because of the storm.Don’t push your horse too hard where it is treacherous, or you will not make it to Manhao.’
Lim made a dismissive sound.‘This is not my first time upon the roads, girl.I will make it to Manhao.’
‘Yes, of course.Sorry, I am anxious, that is all.His Highness will not have listened to our warnings about the tincture.It effected him greatly but he would not let my father adjust the dosage.I fear what state you will find him in.’
The cold water had already covered Lim with gooseflesh; now it prickled down his arms anew.
‘Then make sure the horse you find me is the fastest in the Middle Kingdom.Quickly now, Daiyu.I’ve already delayed too long.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
XIAN BOWEDlow to the small audience gathered to watch his dance, his chest rising in the quickened pace of exertion, his body warm and supple beneath his light-green ruqun, the high neck damp from his sweat.He enjoyed the breathlessness; the dance as soothing as the tincture he relied on.
‘Enchanting.’A man in a rich brown changsan declared, whilst the woman with him, resplendent in an overcoat of peach, embroidered with magnolia and white butterflies, nodded enthusiastically.
‘Like the sway of reeds in the wind.I could not look away,’ she declared.‘I feel quite bewitched.’She laughed gaily at the dangerous notion, and a thread of unease weaved its way through Xian.
With the hour so late, almost midnight, the group was truly inebriated.Huangjiu flowed, and an opium pipe was being shared about.The woman who giggled at talk of magick, passed the pipe on to a chestnut-haired Englishwoman, who thanked her in rough Mandarin before nodding at Xian.
‘Brava, brava,’ she said.He supposed it was a compliment, but the words were foreign, so he couldn’t be sure.
She closed her kohl-lined eyes and sighed as she took a long drag from the slender pipe, slumping amongst the mountain of silk cushions assembled for the guests.She’d slackened the laces on her corset, that formidable piece of clothing Lady Tian had begged her father to have brought to her from London, and it now slackened around her midriff, leaving her breasts in danger of being more exposed than she had intended.But no one seemed to have a care.
Xian longed to join them in such mindless carelessness; he hungered for another sip of the tincture.He’d been due another dose hours ago, but the evening had run on, with the Mandarin begging this dance from him after claiming another set of guests had arrived; those who were his dearest of friends.
Mandarin Feng had an inordinate number of dear friends; from the Middle Kingdom and beyond.All expected to be entertained and enthralled in thePalace of Endless Prosperity; Feng’s audacious name for his sprawling residence.
The past week — or was it two?— since his arrival had been a blur for Xian.He knew he should be exhausted, with all the long days spent at temple fairs, banquets and lantern shows, gift exchanges with neighbouring towns, and of course, the performances of Xian’s dance; always for the select few, rather than gathered crowds, always held privately, rather than in the Reception Hall whose expansive wooden floors were polished to perfection, and would have given him the extra ease of movement that the smaller chambers Mandarin Feng arranged, did not.
Xian’s days were spent being led around by the indomitable Mandarin Feng, like he were one of the many exotic creatures Manhao’s ruler had on display in his sprawling residence.
Xian was a dazed, and somewhat numb, exotic creature.
Time had taken on a cloaked appearance, with his blissfully fuddled mind only gathering itself on those occasions when he was too busy to retake the tincture quickly enough.If he did not sip at the bitter blue water, morning and night, he would shudder with chills, and his eyes would sting with thoughts that gathered in his mind like a teetering avalanche; ready to bombard him should he weaken.
So long as he danced, and drank of Master Liang’s precious liquid, Xian could pretend himself happy here.
Certainly more so than in that nest of daemons in Kunming.
Xian still drew stares, as he had in the Governor’s Manor, but here those stares were filled with gawking curiosity, intrigue, even an odd type of reverence, rather than contempt.There was another look too, something he could not name in his drowsy state; one that had the men and women trailing their gaze over his body.
But the mandarin kept his mind free of worries, mostly.Xian was an honoured guest.Feng had said it many times.
‘My home is your home, your highness.In Manhao you are under my protection.Anything you want, ask for it, and it shall be yours.’
Soon, Xian may ask that more tincture be made in order to keep his mind quiet and his nights free of terrible dreams.But for now he was as near to content as life would allow.
Raising his head, Xian gazed out over the small gathering of people.The chamber, with half its wooden floor covered in a swathe of richly coloured satin cushions, was one of many such private rooms the Mandarin had built into the sprawl of his impressive siheyuan.The residence was large; the front courtyard was twice as large as that in Kunming, while the Central Hall could have housed the marquess’s Reception Hall five times over.Xian dared not move about the various wings without a guide, for fear of being lost.