There was a shocked silence, then the sound of Lin Shang retching.
On the far side of the courtyard, Ji, who had been watching everything, began to cry.
"Be quiet, Lin Ji!" she barked, glaring at him, fighting her natural instinct to comfort him; knowing that, this once, it was necessary to be hard - for his sake. She knew how they thought; knew they were like sharks, scenting for blood, ready to prey upon the slightest weakness. For her to have been kind to Ji - to sympathise with him - was the worst thing she could have done.
She turned back.
The punk was watching her, his knife drawn, a self-satisfied smile on his narrow lips.
"You want to fight me, old woman?"
Behind him, Lin was on his knees, hunched into himself, looking up at her as he struggled for breath, his eyes reminding her of the promise she had made. Besides, there was still Chao to think of.
She let the tension drain from her. "No," she said quietly.
But the frustration she felt at that moment was unbearable. She wanted to punch the little bastard until his face was a bloodied mess, to break every last bone in his body for what he'd done.
He smiled at her, a nasty, hideous smile, then reached out and stroked her cheek. "You pay, old woman. Tomorrow, when we come back. Or else. You understand?"
"I understand."
"Good." He turned, looking to Lin. "And you, lao jen. You make sure you pay, neh? Or your wife, she fuck us all."
There was laughter; an awful, braying laughter at that. Emily turned, looking from face to face, imprinting them in memory, then looked down.
Ill fuck you all, all right, she thought, something hard -something she had almost forgotten until that moment -waking in her. Ill fuck you all good and proper, you can count on it!
The punk turned away, signalling to his fellows. From the corner of her eye she saw the one who'd been holding Chao lift the cleaver from his neck, then kick out, sending Chao sprawling.
There was laughter - mocking laughter - then they were gone.
From the open doorway a crowd of curious neighbours looked in, jostling with each other in their eagerness to see what had happened.
Emily glared at them, the anger in her threatening momentarily to spill over and find a release - a target - in them. Then, with a shudder, she turned away. There was mending to be done.
"Ji. . ." she said softly. "Lin Ji . . ."
Ji stiffened then turned his head away.
She went across to him and knelt, laying her hand gently on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ji. I never meant. . ."
He pulled himself away, his face hard, his whole body set against her. She felt a shadow fall across her. It was Chao.
"Ji?" Chao said gently, as though what had happened to him had been of no importance. "Mama Em wasn't angry with you, Ji. She was angry with the men. Mama Em. . . well, Mama Em loves you. You know that, don't you?"
Ji hesitated a moment, then gave a tiny nod.
"If she spoke harshly, it was only to protect you."
Again Ji nodded.
"Then you must forgive her, neh?"
Chao turned, looking up at Emily, then moving back, gestured that she should approach the infant.
"I'm sorry, Ji," she said, kneeling beside him again. "Chao was right. I was angry with the men, not you."
For a long moment he was silent, staring away from her, as if struggling with something inside him, then he turned, looking to her, tears welling in his eyes.
"Who were they, Mama Em? Who were they?"
She reached out, holding him tightly as his tiny body began to shake and the tears roll down his cheeks.
"Trouble," she said, hugging him fiercely, conscious that it was the second time she had answered him thus that day. "Nothing but trouble."
Pei K'ung stood at the balcony, one hand gripping the iron rail, the other shading her eyes as she looked out across the gardens at the centre of the San Chang, trying to make out what was happening in her husband's palace. Ten minutes back, a second unmarked craft had landed in the Eastern Palace hangar. Now she waited, impatient for news, as her spies sought to find out who had come.
"Mistress?"
She whirled about. I Ye stood in the doorway, head bowed, an obsequious smile on his lips.
"Well, Colonel I? Do we know who's come?"
Even before he answered her she knew. Knew from his hesitation; from the way his eyes shifted in their orbits as his mind sought to find the right words to excuse his failure.
"Forgive me, Mistress, but it seems no one knows who was in the craft. Four mutes carried a sealed sedan from the craft and took it directly into the Northern Palace."
"I see. . ." She let out a long breath, calming herself, and as I Ye raised his head, seeking her eyes, she smiled. "You will find out what is going on or you will find yourself demoted to lieutenant before the evening's out, you understand?"
I Ye bowed low. "Mistress!" Then he was gone.
She went back to the railing, straining to see. There was a great deal of activity over there in the previously untenanted Northern Palace. Servants hurried back and forth behind the windows. Guards took up new posts. But as to who they were serving, who defending, not a word came out.
She gave a little cry of frustration, then rushed inside. Heng Yu was waiting there, precisely where she'd left him, standing beside her desk, his head bowed, the Great Ledger, wherein the State's accounts were kept, balanced between his hands.
"Someone must know!" she said, pacing back and forth. "It just isn't possible he could have kept this a secret."
And yet he had. She turned abruptly, her skirts swishing against the stone-tiled floor.
"Who is it, Master Heng? Who could possibly be so important he would fly them in here secretly?"
Heng Yu glanced up at her. "One of the Warlords, Mistress?"
"A Warlord?" She stopped dead, considering that, pleased it seemed, by the explanation. Then, suddenly, she frowned. "Then why keep it a secret? Yuan has always been careful to consult me at every turn. One of the Warlords? No, it makes no sense, Master Heng!"
Heng shrugged. He agreed, it made no sense. But what other reason could there be? Unless . . .
"Unless he wishes to surprise you, Mistress?"
She turned, staring at him. "Surprise me? No, that's absurd!"
"Not so, Mistress," he answered, setting the heavy ledger down on the edge of the desk, then stepping across to her. "It is, after all, your birthday in two weeks' time. Perhaps he has decided to use the ten-year banquet as the occasion for a dual celebration."
"My birthday?" Puzzlement slowly turned to pleasure in her face. "And you think . . .?"
Heng Yu, watching her, felt a wave of relief flood through him, at the same time cursing himself for not having thought of it earlier. "It can be the only explanation, Mistress. As you said, your husband has always been scrupulous about consulting you on matters of State. And if this is not a matter of State, then what else could it be? No. I'll warrant this is a special treat he has arranged specially for your birthday. A gift. . ."
He had lowered his head as he delivered his little speech; now he raised his eyes and almost laughed.
Pei K'ung was grinning - grinning like a lovesick girl.
"Why, the sweet man ... Of course! And there was I thinking . . ."
She let out a little sigh. "A gift . . ." Then, clapping her hands together, she went round her desk and sat, suddenly business-like again, gesturing towards the thick, leather-bound ledger.
"So, Master Heng, where were we?"
Jelka sat back, relaxing as the shuttle took them back to the orbital. It would be their last night up here for some while and the thought of going earthside again - of the banquet and the endless social whirl that would accompany it - depressed her spirits.