May-may said nothing and shook her head sadly at the troubles of man and woman. “How is it with the young lovers?” she asked, trying to find out what was truly bothering him.
“All right.” He had never told her what he and Brock had said to each other.
“Have you decide what to do about devil fever?”
“Na yet. I think you should go back to Macao.”
“Yes, please, Tai-Pan. But na before you decide about Hong Kong.”
“It’s dangerous here. I dinna want aught to happen to you.”
“Joss,” she said with a shrug. “Of course, our feng shui is very gracious bad.” She put her hand on his chest and smoothed him, then kissed him gently. “Once you said me there were three things you had to do before you would decide about a Tai-tai. Two I know. Wat was, the third?”
‘To pass over The Noble House into safe hands,” he said. Then he told her what Brock had said, and about his argument with Culum today.
She was silent a long time, thinking through the problem of the third thing. And because the solution was so easy, she hid it deep in her heart and said innocently, “I said I would help you with the first two, that I would think about the third. This third is too much to me. I canna help, much as I would like.”
“Aye,” Struan said. “I dinna ken what to do. At least,” he added, “there’s only one answer.”
“The killing answer is unwisdom,” she said firmly. “Very unwisdomly dangerous. The Brocks will be expect it. Everyone. And you risk vengeance of your terrible law wat stupidly demands eye for eye whoever has eye which is crazy mad. Why else be riches, heya? You must na do it, Tai-Pan. And I further counsel you give your son and new daughter the present they desire.”
“I canna do that, by God. That’d be like cutting Culum’s throat mysel’!”
“Even so, that is my counsel. And I further counsel a fantastical immediate marriage.”
“That’s out of the question,” he exploded. “That’d be in very bad taste, an insult to the memory of Robb, and ridiculous.”
“I agree very heartedly Tai-Pan,” May-may said. “But I seems to memory that following barbarian custom—which for once follows wise Chinese custom—the girl comes into the house of the husband. Na the opposite, heya? So the immediater the Brock girl gets from under the Gorth’s thumb, the sooner the Brocks lose controls over your son.”
“What?”
“Aye wat! What for is your son sick crazy in the head? He needs to bed her fantastical bad.” Her voice rose as Struan sat up in the bed. “Now, dinna give me arguments, by God, but listen and then I will listen dutifully. That’s wat’s making him crazy sick—because the poor boy’s cold and weary and unbedded by night. That is fact. Why for you na say open, heya? I say open. He’s frantic hot. So he listen with tongue hanging up to all that Gorth crazy talk. Me, if I was him, I’d do likewise because brother has power over sister! But let son Culum have the girl, and then will your Culum spend hour after godrot hour listening to brother Gorth? By God, nay! He spends every minute in bed playing busums and exhausting himself and making babies and he detest interruptions from you, from Brock or from Gorth.” She looked at him sweetly. “Nay?”
“Aye,” he said. “I love you for your shrewdness.”
“You love me ’cause I drive you crazy mad but sleep you, sleep you till you busted.” She laughed, greatly satisfied with herself. “Next: start
them building
their house. Tomorrow. Put their minds on that and away from fan-quai Gorth. She is young, eh? So thought of own house will fantastical occupation her mind. This will anger the Brocks and they will begin to decide wat sort of home and so on, which will anger her and bring her closer to you wat gave her home. Gorth must absolute oppose quick marriage—thusly turn Culum against him, because he loses his—wat you call it?—his jack in the hole.”
“Ace in the hole.” He hugged her delightedly. “You’re fantastical! I should have thought of that mysel’. There’s another land sale next week. I’ll buy you a marine lot. Because you’re wise.”
“Huh!” she said crossly. “You think I protect my man for filthy Hong Kong land? A single miseration suburban lot? For taels of silver? For jades? Wat for you think this priceless T’Chung May-may is, heya? A dirty lump of dog-meat whore?”
She rattled on and on and reluctantly allowed him to gentle her, proud that he understood the value of land to a civilized person, and grateful that he had given her such face by pretending not to know how pleased she was.
The room was quiet now, except for the soft drone of the mosquitoes.
May-may curled up against Struan and turned her mind to the solution of the third thing. She decided to think about it in Mandarin and not in English because she did not know enough words with the correct shades of meaning. Like “nuance,” she thought. How would you say that in barbarian? Or “finesse”? The solution of the third thing required true Chinese nuance and perfect finesse.
The solution is so delightfully simple, she told herself gleefully. Assassinate Gorth. Have him assassinated in such a way that no one suspects that the assassins are anything other than robbers or pirates. If it’s done clandestinely in this fashion, one danger to my Tai-Pan is removed; Culum is protected from an obvious future hazard; and the father Brock can do nothing because he still is bound by the astounding and unbelievable finality the barbarians put into such a “holy” oath. So simple. But fraught with danger. I must be very careful. If my Tai-Pan ever found out, he would bring me before one of the barbarian judges—that revolting Mauss probably! My Tai-Pan would charge me—even me, his adored concubine. And I would be hanged. How ridiculous!
After all this time, and all my studying—learning their tongue and assiduously trying to comprehend them—certain barbarian attitudes are still absolutely beyond me. How ridiculous to have one law for all—for rich or for poor. What else is the point of working and sweating to become rich and powerful?
Now, what is the best way? she asked herself. I know so little about assassination. How to do it? Where? When?
May-may was awake the whole night. With the coming of dawn she had decided on the best procedure. Then she slept sweetly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
By Midsummer Day Happy Valley was in complete despair. The malaria had continued to spread but there was no pattern to the epidemic. Not everyone in the same house was infected. Not every house in the same area was touched.
Coolies would not come into Happy Valley until the sun was high, and they returned to Tai Ping Shan before dark. Struan and Brock and all the traders were at their wits’ end. There was nothing they could do—except move, and moving meant disaster. Staying could mean worse disaster. And though there were many who insisted it could not be the poisoned soil and polluted night air that brought malaria, only those who slept in the valley were afflicted. The God-fearing believed as Culum had believed, that the fever was the will of God, and they redoubled their petitions to the Almighty to protect them; the godless shrugged, though equally frightened, and said, “Joss.” The trickle of families back to the ships developed into a flood, and Queen’s Town became a ghost town.