Page 78 of The Cinders

Find him before the clock strikes midnight, or you may miss your chance.

Lim scowled at the Englishman’s cryptic talk, then scowled harder at Chen, who set the slipper down on a cluttered workbench, among the nails and awls and knives, strips of leather and cuts of discarded fabric.The shoemaker picked up a small pair of pincers.

‘Now, where to begin,’ he said, making a show of tilting the slipper back and forth, setting off its marvellous shine.

Lim sighed.‘Don’t be ridiculous.No shoemaker worth his weight in dan would ever consider ruining perfection.’

‘But this is not my perfection, Master Song.’Chen brought the pincers nearer the slipper’s heel, where the largest of the seams ran.

That he’d actually make good on his threat was highly dubious, but Lim saw a stubbornness in the man that he recognised in himself.

‘Fine,’ he growled.‘A cup of water, and I’ll tell you.’

Chen could move quickly when it pleased him.He handed Lim a cup, less than half full, but the water was cool and fresh.After draining the cup, Lim continued.‘I met a pedlar on my travels, in Shaanxi.I’d hoped to gain trade from the Silk Road.’

Chen did not move the pincers from where they hovered near the slipper.‘What town did you meet him in?’

‘There was no town, I was somewhere between Yulin and Yan’An, if I recall.His cart had overturned.I was given the fabric as thanks for my help.’Lim didn’t bother with a lie; because the truth would infuriate the man well enough.

Sure enough, Master Chen scowled.‘How convenient for you, to have been in the middle of nowhere like that.Do you have a name?Tell me more of this supposed man.’

‘He claimed to be from Bhutan, and gave me no name.’

‘Bhutan?I’m not sure I’ve heard of it.You’d best not be inventing places at your leisure.’

‘I assure you it exists, a neighbour to the west.A mystic place, I’m told.And I would believe it for how odd the man was.’

Surprisingly, that caught Chen’s attention.He set down the pincers, picking up a piece of red velvet and wrapping it around the slipper with a care he’d not displayed a moment ago with the pincers.He turned to look at Lim.

‘And how odd was that?’

‘His ears were peculiar,’ Lim waved his hand at his own ears, forgetting the cut on his arm, and remembering rather painfully.‘Long and pointed at their tips, and his teeth were much too sharp.’

The truth.But one so wild he half expected Chen to call for Captain Duan then and there; tired of a shoemaker’s belligerence.

Master Chen gasped, touching his fingers to the base of his throat.‘Could you have met Shunfeng Er?’

Lim blinked, stunned by the question.‘Met the god of Fair-Wind Ears?’

Chen nodded eagerly.‘Yes, yes.Do you not believe in the gods, Master Song?’

‘That a god had a broken cart he could not fix himself?No.’

‘Short-sighted man, but it is just like the gods to work through disbelievers.’He turned back to the slipper.‘How can you look on this fabric and not see the touch of the divine?I have a sensitivity to the spirits, you understand, I feel their presence.Luck guides my hands because I believe in the deities with all my heart.They have sent you to me, Master Song Lim.I am sure of it.’

Lim stared at him.Master Chen was raving mad.

A god?

The man from Bhutan was odd, no doubt, but many people were born with disfigurements; not so many were born godly.But Lim decided too much protest would not benefit him.Riling and ridiculing would not get the shackles off him faster.

‘I suppose it may have been Shunfeng Er,’ he said slowly.‘If he is a generous god.’

‘He is a guardian.And those magnificent ears you saw enable him to hear over immense distances.’Chen pulled his braid over his shoulder and twiddled with the grey hair at its tip.‘He can hear the prayers of the faithful.’He looked up, with a wild hunger in his grin.‘I am faithful, and here you are.An answer to my prayers.Falling at my feet with your talent and god-given fabric.Enough to take me to the Forbidden City, and be immortalised for my work.’

Lim clenched the ceramic cup.Chen was not just mad…he was a mad zealot.This was a bad dream, surely?Or a frightening delusion…maybe those lotus seeds had turned Lim’s mind to porridge?

‘Master Chen,’ Lim said carefully.‘I am in the service of the Governor of Kunming, and only here to see to the needs of Prince Xian…at the marquess’s request.’He added the lie for good measure.