Page 40 of The Cinders
The guests who’d watched his performance—four couples and a man who appeared to be in his own company—lay about on their cushions, sipping on always-full cups, glassy-eyed in the late hour.They had watched him with mirroring looks of satisfaction, the man on his own winking at Xian when his gown had brushed near to him in the confined space.
The same man, with sharp features and keen hazel eyes, got to his feet, his baijiu sloshing from his cup.‘A remarkable performance, your highness.’His queue was so long the tip of his braid touched at the back of his knees; swaying like a black snake from a tree.‘I did not know a man could move so well…those hips of yours…are something to behold.’
He took a step towards Xian, but the Mandarin was suddenly there, waggling a long finger and chiding the man with a crooked smile that tilted his thick black moustache.
‘Come now, Magistrate He, that is quite close enough.You’d not wish to sully the prince’s fine reputation now, would you?’Mandarin Feng had something of the tiger about him; a smoothness that overlay a dangerous fortitude.‘You know the rules.He is to be admired from afar, as an esteemed guest of our province.’
The magistrate chuckled.‘You are a tormentor, Feng.Waving this fine specimen beneath my nose and telling me to keep my hands to myself.What if I wish to explore beneath those layers, and ensure it is not a woman there that you claim to be the prince?’
‘The price of such exploration would be too high for you to pay, He.’The Mandarin stroked the short length of his chin beard; finely shaped and black as coal.He was not an imposingly built man, like his bullish captain, but the Mandarin took up more space in a room than anyone else, and though his looks were plain, he drew the eye.
‘Never presume I cannot find extra coin, if the deal is worth my time.’
‘I would never presume that, my friend.’
Both men laughed, and the sound held an unpleasant note that sought to claw its way into Xian’s muffled world.
‘Now, everyone.Go along and enjoy all the other entertainments that are on offer this evening.’
The magistrate leaned in towards the Mandarin, but he did not whisper quietly.‘None shall have the feet of this boy, though, shall they Feng?Keep me top of your list when the time is right.I’d be very glad to entertain him in Wantian.’
Xian’s chest tightened, and he swallowed hard.The dance had rushed the tincture from his body sooner than he’d hoped.
‘I am to return to Kunming in the new year.’Xian startled himself by speaking up.
Feng and the magistrate exchanged a glance, one that caused Xian’s breath to quicken beneath his veil.
‘There, you have your answer, from the mouth of the prince himself.’Feng clapped his hands, the noise shocking in the room’s hush.‘I’m afraid his time here is short, and far too busy for the likes of you, Magistrate He.’
Xian shifted his feet.The cotton filling his head made it difficult to catch the nuances of the conversation, but instinct made him wary.
The magistrate released a grandiose sigh.‘What a dreadful shame.Then I shall just have to appease myself with watching you perform for us over the coming week, before you hurry away back to Kunming where I am sure you are sorely missed.’
Xian flinched, certain now there was mockery in the man’s tone.
‘The hour is late, Mandarin Feng,’ he said.‘I should like to retire to my room now, if I may?I know you said you have yet more important guests arriving tomorrow—’
‘Yangrenfrom the Kingdom of Spain, no less.’Mandarin Feng’s smooth face lit up with talk of Westerners.The moment Xian arrived in Manhao, he’d noted how many foreigners were accommodated in Feng’s expansive residence; several Frenchmen, many members of a trading party from India, and of course, numerous Britons.But so far he’d not yet met one yangren who could speak more than a few badly managed words of Mandarin.And as Xian’s English was thankfully poor, he’d been able to avoid conversing with a single Westerner.Not that his silence stopped them bombarding him with looks and questions; a Frenchman being so bold as to lift his veil.It was the only time Xian had been grateful for Captain Duan’s interference, Feng’s man making it very clear, with no translation needed, that the yangren had overstepped the mark.
‘Foreign devils,’ the captain had growled as the alarmed guest hurried away.‘I’ll escort you from now on.’
‘No, no, that is unnecessary.’And unwelcome.
He knew from their time on the road that the captain’s hands wandered, and landed themselves too often at the small of Xian’s back, once sliding much lower, but Duan had made excuses; blaming the unwanted touch on the way Xian had alighted from the carriage.
Thankfully, that had been the only occasion where the man’s closeness had filled Xian with dread.At least, the only one he recalled.He’d taken too much of the tincture on that long ride and woken more than once to find himself asleep in an inn he did not recall arriving at.
Xian bowed his head to Feng and the magistrate.‘My lord, I look forward to meeting your visitors from Spain, but for now, please excuse me.I am quite tired.’
The Mandarin nodded.‘You are pale today.I hear you have not eaten well since arriving in Manhao.Perhaps our seafood does not agree with you?’
Xian’s suppressed grief scratched at the back of his skull, the gate-keeping tincture all but evaporated.He shook his head; too ill to speak.
‘Never mind.I’ll have the kitchen prepare you a ginseng and chicken broth to set you right.I’d not like to tell my guests you’ve grown too weak to perform.’
There was a reprimand there, Xian knew, but he was too preoccupied with holding back stinging-nettle tears.
‘Thank you, my lord.’Xian hurried away, clutching at the cross-collar of his jacket.He drew the folds in tight, reassuring himself he was not laid so bare as this so-called palace made him feel.