It had all come flooding back to her; all of the old feelings reawakened, as sharp as ever. Why now? she had asked herself, horrified. Why, when I have finally found peace, does it return to torment me? She had listened to Yuan abstractedly, knowing Tsu Ma was once more in the palace, and had found herself wanting to run to him and throw herself upon his mercy. But it could not be. She was this man's wife. This boy's wife. So she had chosen. And now it could not be undone. Unless that was why the old man had summoned Tsu Ma.
For one brief, dreadful moment she imagined it undone. Imagined herself cast off, free to marry Tsu Ma, and saw the tiny movement of denial he would make. As he had done that time, here, beside the pool. She caught her breath, the pain of that moment returned to her.
I should have been your wife, Tsu Ma. Your strength. Your second self.
Aiya, but it was not to be. It was not her fault that she had fallen for Tsu Ma. No. That had been her fate. But this too was her fate. To be denied him. To be kept from him forever. To be married to this child. She looked down, swallowing back the bitterness.
"What is it, my love?"
She looked at him, for the moment seeing nothing but his youth, his naivete; those and that awful old-man certainty of his. Then she relented. It was not his fault. He had not chosen to fall in love with her. No, he had been nothing but kindness to her. Even so, her heart bled that it was he and not Tsu Ma who had brought her here today.
"It's nothing," she answered him. "Only the sickness."
He stared at her, concerned, real sympathy in his expression as he struggled to understand her. But he would never understand.
"Should we go back?" he asked softly, but she shook her head.
"No. It's all right. It'll pass in a while."
She looked away again, staring out toward the south and the distant beacon, imagining him there, waiting for her, even now. But there were only ghosts now. Distant memories. Those and the pain.
She sighed. Was it always so? Did fate never grant a full measure? Was it the lot of everyone to have this lesser satisfaction—this pale shadow of passion?
And was she to cast that to the winds? To choose nothing rather than this sometimes-bitter compromise? She shook her head, anguished. Oh, she had often thought of telling Yuan; had had the urge to let the words float free from her, like acids, eating into the soft dream of love he had built about him. And what had kept her from that? Was it pity for him? A desire not to be cruel? Or was it simple self-interest on her part?
She turned, looking at him again. Did she love him? Did she? No. But neither did she hate him. It was as she'd said so often to herself. He was a good man. A good husband. But beyond that. . .
She closed her eyes, imagining herself in Tsu Ma's arms again, the sheer physical strength of him thrilling beyond words, the strange, mysterious power of him enfolding her until her mind went dark and her nerve ends sang with the sweetness of his touch.
And could Li Yuan do that for her? She shuddered. No. Never in ten thousand years.
"If you would wait here a brief moment, Shih Nan, I will let my master know you are here."
Nan Ho, Li Yuan's Master of the Inner Chamber, returned the first steward's bow, then, when the man had gone, turned, looking about him. It was not often that he found himself in one of the mansions of the Minor Families and he was not going to miss this opportunity of seeing how they lived. He had seen the balcony on his way in; now he crossed the room quickly and stood there just inside the window, looking out across the grounds. Down below the chao tai hui—the entertainment— was in full swing, more than a thousand guests filling the space between the old stone walls.
He took a step further, out onto the balcony itself, fascinated by the range of outlandish fashions on display, amused by the exaggerated gestures of some of the more garishly dressed males, then froze, hearing voices in the gallery behind him. He drew in closer to the upright, drawing the long silk curtain across a fraction to conceal himself. It would not do to be seen to be so curious, even if he were here on the Prince's business.
At first he was unaware of the import of what was being said, then a single phrase made him jerk his head about, suddenly attending.
He listened, horrified, the laughter that followed the words chilling him. And as their footsteps went away down the stairs, he came out and, tiptoeing quietly across the tiled floor, leaned over the stairway to catch a sight of the men who had been talking, drawing his head back sharply as they turned on the landing below.
Gods.' he thought, all consideration of the business he had come for gone from his mind. He must do something, and immediately, for this matter would not wait. He must nip it in the bud at once.
He was still standing there, his hands gripping the marble of the balustrade, when Pei Ro-hen entered the gallery from the far end.
"Master Nan? Is that you?"
He turned, flustered, bowing twice, then hurried forward, kissing Pei's offered ring hand. He straightened up and after the briefest pause to collect his thoughts, came directly to the point.
"Forgive me, my Lord, but something has just happened that I must attend to at once. I was waiting, by the window there, when four men entered the gallery, talking among themselves. Not wishing to disturb them, I took a step outside, onto the balcony, yet what I overheard is of the gravest importance. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that it threatens the security of our masters."
Pei Ro-hen had gone very still. There was a small movement in his normally placid face, then he nodded. "I see. And what do you wish to do, Master Nan?"
In answer Nan Ho went to the balcony again, his head bowed, waiting for Pei to come across. When the old man stood beside him, he pointed out across the heads of the crowd to four men who were making their way to one of the refreshment tents on the far side of the walled garden.
"Those are the men. The two in red silks and the others in lilac and green. If you could detain them on some pretext for an hour or two, I will see if I can bring the Marshal here. He will know best how to deal with this matter."
"Are you sure that is wise, Master Nan? Should we not, perhaps, simply keep an eye on them and prevent them from leaving?"
Nan Ho shook his head vigorously. "Forgive me, but no, my Lord. They must be isolated at the earliest opportunity, for what they know is dangerous. I cannot say more, but the safety of my masters is at stake here and I would be failing in my duty if I did not act."
Pei smiled, pleased immensely by this show of loyalty. "I understand, Nan Ho. Then go at once and bring Marshal Tolonen. I, meanwhile, will act my part in this."
KIM SAT there in the semidarkness, the room lights doused, the soft, pearled glow of the screen casting a faint, silvered radiance over his face and upper arms. He had worked through the night, then slept, waking only an hour past, entranced, fearful, filled with the dream he'd had.
Her eyes. He had dreamed of Jelka Tolonen's eyes. Of eyes so blue that he could see the blackness beyond them; could see the stars winking through, each fastened on its silver, silken thread to where he stood, looking through her at the universe. He had woken, shivering, the intensity of the vision scaring him. What did it mean? Why was she there, suddenly, between him and the stars? Why could he not see them clearly but through the startling blueness of her eyes?