Page 53 of The Cinders
‘What time?’
‘I am to finish just before midnight.’
‘Excellent.In that case, let your wish be granted when the clock strikes midnight.’
‘What shall happen then?’
‘Opportunity, my handsome vulpine.’William adjusted the black lace at his cuffs, looking all too pleased with himself.‘At the strike of midnight, I shall offer a little fox the chance to run.You shall know when the time comes, I assure you.’
He dipped into an exaggerated bow, head so low his hanging curls nearly touched the floor.
‘William, what are your intentions?’
The English devil rose and turned away.‘To grant your wish.Do with my offer what you will, run to your shoemaker if it pleases you, or find those of your kind who can show you what it means to be huli jing.I know of a place in England that will offer you shelter.’
‘England?’Xian said, aghast.‘That is thousands of miles away.I cannot run that far.’
‘There’s the fighting spirit that will serve you well.’William slid open the door, flicking his slender fingers at Xian, as though dismissing an irritating attendant.‘Those are your decisions to make, but never let me hear you say I did not give this fairy godmother bullshit my best shot.Good night to you, my fox prince.’
He stepped into the corridor, the sway of his hips blatantly seductive, the lazy shift of his aura worn like an elaborate cloak.Xian stared after him, uncertain if this had been the most intriguing encounter of his life, or the single most regrettable.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SONG LIMreached Manhao on New Year’s Eve; the sun high in the sky but giving little warmth.His legs ached from a punishing six-day ride.He’d carved almost an entire day from the journey in refusing to rest longer than a few hours each evening and bargaining quickly to exchange his horses for fresher animals agreeable to his frantic pace.Lim considered himself a talented negotiator, but the extra coin he carried with him certainly smoothed his way.Longma, the gelding he rode now, had proved to be a fortuitous purchase; eager to step into a gallop at the slightest urging.
Lim dismounted with a grunt caught between clenched teeth.He shook out his legs, willing the numbness away; trying to ignore the travel stains on the trousers of his dark brownshanku.He’d been wearing the same simple jacket and trousers for two days, and likely stank as badly as some rooms he’d rested in.
Lim asked a passerby where he might find accommodations and stabling for his horse.
‘This night?’The man chortled, the folds of skin beneath his chin wobbling with his amusement.‘You’ll not find a single room available in town with New Year upon us, good man.Nor a decent stall for the horse.But there may be a place at Master Ren’s, he’s a ways out of town though, so be ready for a walk back in if you’re coming for the fireworks.’
Lim had no interest in fireworks, nor even a bed at Master Ren’s.He was too eager to set eyes on Feng’s residence, but the horse deserved a decent place to bed down.
Following the directions given, Lim led his horse away from the heart of the town, down a road where fewer and fewer huts stood with their stoves spilling smoke and their occupants eyeing him from where they gathered for a noon meal.He travelled past a field where goats were tied with long ropes beneath several thriving trees of heaven; the animals lifted their heads briefly to watch him make his way past.The road took him up over a rise, where a magnificent view of the Red River spread before him; the waters churned the red-brown of clay, the strong current like a hidden serpent slithering its way through the Middle Kingdom and onto the lands beyond.Lim had to bow and nod to several passersby, the road well-trodden, but with most travelling opposite to him; back towards the town where there was no end of decorated houses; groaning beneath the weight of ribbons and flags,chunlianand colourful lanterns.The people’s excitement at the upcoming celebrations had been as tangible as the scent of cooking pots and livestock.
Lim tugged his mount away from where it eyed a patch of grass.The sensible brown gelding still moved with energy in its stride, despite how hard he’d been worked since Lim bought him two days hence.He patted the animal’s wide neck; damp with sweat.
‘A good thing you are a sturdy creature, Longma.’With the horse’s owner offering no name at the sale, Lim had chosen that of the legendary horse with wings and dragon scales.‘I’ve been too hard on you, I’m ashamed to admit.But I’ll make things right with a warm stable, some fresh barely, and alfalfa if we’re lucky.What do you say?’
He’d taken to talking to his horses on the long, lonely journey.As much to ease the silence as his nerves.He’d even chatted to the slipper once, cradling it in his lap as he rode.
‘I’m not a man who believes in charms,’ he’d said to the gleaming shoe.‘We make our own good fortunes, but if you hold any luck at all, then grant it to the prince.He’s deserving of good-fortune.’
Lim touched the saddlebag where the slipper lay now.Wondering yet again if this were a fool’s mission.If by some miracle he found his way to the prince, then what?Hand over the shoe, wish Xian good luck, and ride off again?He’d only doubted when he’d reached the outskirts of Manhao.Until then, nothing but intent drove him on;go to him.
Lim pressed his growing doubts to the back of his mind as the road took him down towards the river; the dirt slope slippery beneath his sandals and needing his attention if he didn’t wish to end up on his arse.
At the bottom of the slope were two diverging paths, just as the man giving instructions had said.Lim was not to take the left path to where some dilapidated merchant houses lay; he was to turn right, towards where a farmhouse sprawled a ways up ahead, set amongst a dense swathe of towering hackberry and cedar trees.
The residence was simple in layout, but decent in size; with two jutting wings on either side of the main section.A stone path, fenced on both sides with bamboo, led Lim up toward the front of the cedar wood building.The black terracotta roof tiles were being attacked by moss, the eaves and pointed corners showing a hint of grasses seeding amongst the crevices.But this was certainly no abandoned building.Bright red lanterns with golden tassels, round and bulging as the bellies of fattened sows, hung in precise rows along the front of the abode.Around the frame of the main double doors, Chunlian were pasted in their horizontal and vertical strips; the Spring Festival couplets, poetic odes to better luck for the new year, written in black ink upon vibrant red backgrounds.
Smoke snaked from the back of the residence, where the corner of a large barn was visible from where Lim stood with his horse; Longma with his head between the bamboo fencing, crunching upon overgrown verdant grass.
A side door of the wooden barn swung open, and a man stepped out.His arms were full of fuchsia lotus blooms, with their wide leaves and long stems still attached.
‘Master Ren?’Lim called.
The man turned, his long queue thick as the rope used to tether a sampan boat to the dock.