by Sharon Shinn
“Tell me what you’ve been doing,” she said, her voice warm even as she tried to keep her expression cool. “Tell me everything.”
“My life is the same as it always is,” he said. “Quieter now, with you gone.”
“Did you pick stones the other day? I heard the bell ring.”
“Yes, I was at the river all morning. But I only came home with one qiji.”
“Well, that’s better than none!”
She heard the smile in his voice. “That’s what I thought.”
“Aurora told me you took the job here. Does that mean you’ll stop being a stonepicker?”
“No, I can do both. Gabe’s been working here for the last couple of months and he helped me get hired.”
“Were you worried about money?” Daiyu asked softly. She thought about all the food that went to waste in one day at Xiang’s. Enough to feed Kalen for a week.
There was a slight sound, as if he’d shrugged. He transferred the parasol to his other hand, never lifting it away from her face. “Everyone worries about money.”
“Maybe you could sell your earrings,” she suggested, “if you ever get too desperate.”
He laughed softly. “They’re just made of cheap metal, so they wouldn’t even fetch the price of a meal. But I like having a second job. When Ombri and Aurora leave—”
She twisted around to look at him. “When are they leaving?”
He gave her a lopsided smile. She thought his face looked thinner than before. “Once you send Chenglei away, they won’t have any reason to stay in Jia.”
For some reason, that had never occurred to her. “But then what will happen to you? Will you have to give up the house?”
He made a circular motion with his free hand, indicating she should face forward again. Unwilling, she obeyed. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “We haven’t talked about it. It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, of course it does! I hate to think of you sleeping outside in a tent once cold weather comes—”
“You won’t be thinking of me at all when cold weather comes,” he said lightly. “Not if you’re back in your own iteration by then.”
The words made them both fall silent again. Daiyu’s rush of pleasure in the meeting instantly dissipated; she actually felt sick to her stomach. She clasped her hands together hard.
“I’m sorry,” Kalen said. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that I think about it a lot.”
“It’s so unfair,” she said in a subdued voice. “Ombri and Aurora descend on you and draw you into this escapade and change everything in your life. And then they disappear and everything they brought with them disappears, and you’re left with a story you can’t tell anyone and memories that no oneelseshares. I am in despair just knowing that all of this will evaporate the minute I’m back home. I can’t stand it, thinking I won’t remembe ryou. But it might be just as bad to remember all of it and know you can never have any of it back again.”
“I don’t mind,” he said. “I mean—I do mind, knowing that I’ll never see any of you again—but I’d rather have had the adventure than not. I’d rather know the people and lose them than never have them in my life at all.”
“It’s so hard,” she said, her voice very low.
He changed the subject, his voice determinedly cheerful. “So what’s it like at Xiang’s house? As frightening as you expected?”
She managed a light laugh. “Just about! Xiang is a bitter little spider in this golden web, and I always have the idea that she’s plotting things all the time, some of them not very nice. She seems to like me, though. At any rate, she doesn’t scream at me or call me names. And once or twice she’s said things that make it sound like she’s considering keeping me here past the ball. As if I really were her niece and she was thinking of adopting me.”
Kalen laughed. “There’s a thought! You could stay in Shenglang. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about me being lonely after all.”
Daiyu laughed. “I like the idea of staying in Shenglang with you, but I don’t think I could stand to keep living with Xiang,” she said. Belatedly, she added, “Besides, I couldn’t leave my parents like that! They’d be so worried about me and I’d miss them too much.”
As she said the words, it occurred to her with a sort of buried horror that she hadn’t missed her parents at all in the last couple of days. In fact, today she hadn’t even thought of them until that very moment. What was wrong with her? Was Shenglang putting such a spell on her that she was slowly but surely forgetting her former life, her true life? Or was the mere act of passing through iterations too difficult for the brain to absorb? She had been warned that her mind would not be able to retain memories of Shenglang once she returned to her own time and place. Maybe she could not retain memories of St. Louis if she was in Shenglang too long. The thought was terrifying.
“Daiyu?”Kalensaid,hisvoiceconcerned.“Whatisit?What did I say?”
“Kalen,” she whispered, “I think I’m forgetting things.”
“What things? I can help you remember, if they happened in Shenglang.”
“No—my family—my life in St. Louis. It seems so faint and so far away. As if this is the world that’s real, and that’s the dream, that’s the place that doesn’t really exist. Kalen, what happens if I forget them? What happens if I don’t remember where I really belong?”
“Do you remember it now?” he asked gently. “Your true life?”
“Yes—I think so. But how do I know? What if I’ve forgotten things already?”
Hisvoicewaslow,unruffled,soothing.“I’msureyouhaven’t. Nothing important, anyway. Tell me about it. Describe your mother and father to me. Tell me about your house.”
As always, his words, his very presence, chased away some of her fear. She took a deep breath. “My father is this tall, thin, happy guy. He accepts everybody. He trusts everybody. He never holds grudges. He tried to be a banker, but he didn’t know how to be a corporate man, so he started buying and rehabbing houses. He likes to work with his hands. No matter what you need, if you ask my dad for help, he’ll give it to you. His eyes are as blue as Aurora’s.”
“I think I’d like him,” Kalen said.
“Oh, and he’d like you. My mom—she’s the practical one. She can always figure things out, everything from reading a map to budgeting for groceries. She sort of holds my dad to the Earth, you know? If she’s around, you know that nothing can go so wrong that she can’t fix it. And she understands things. Like why you want a certain dress or why you like a certain boy. No matter what you need to tell her, she’ll listen.”
“You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”
She shook her head. “They adopted me from China.” She knew as soon as she said the phrase that it would make no sense to him. She rubbed her fingers over the dragon ring and tried again. “They’re not Han,” she said. “Where I come from, most of the Han people live on the other side of the world. It’s the cangbai folk who pretty much run my country. My parents are cangbai, like you.”
“Is that strange?”
“They’re my parents and they love me,” she said. “It doesn’t feel strange at all.”
“Where do you live?” he prompted. “What does your house look like?”
So she told him about the tumbledown property in Soulard that, by the end of the year, would be restored to a quirky elegance, and then gave him details about some of the other houses they had lived in. She described the backless red dress she had worn last year to a cousin’s wedding, the item of clothing she loved most in the world. She named her best friends, listed her favorite books, and would have outlined the plots of her favorite movies if they’d had time. But she could see Aurora pacing slowly toward them down the walkway, and she knew they had already stayed longer than Xiang would have liked.
“What color do you like best?” Kalen asked, handing her the parasol as she came to her feet.
She risked turning around to look at him so he could see her smile and, maybe, some
of her relief. So that she could see his smile, which flashed instantly in response. “It changes,” she said. “That I don’t have to worry about forgetting.”
“You don’t have to worry about for getting any of it,” he said. “I’ll remember.”
TWELVE
DAIYU HOPED TO return to the aviary often to see Kalen, but it was soon clear there would be no chance to do so in the next few days, for Xiang had filled their schedules with activities. There were still dancing lessons to get through most days, still dressmaker fittings to endure, but now Xiang was adding more social events to their calendars. There was another breakfast—which Chenglei did not attend—and a formal dinner so somber and precisely orchestrated that Daiyu was afraid all night that she would hold an elbow wrong and be disgraced forever. She scarcely said a word and ate only the smallest bites of the sumptuous food, but apparently she did nothing unforgivable, because Xiang took her to another dinner a few nights later.
During this time, only two events really stood out to Daiyu as significant. One because it gave her another chance to observe Chenglei, the other because it showed her what her life on Shenglang could be like if she stayed—not as Kalen’s friend, but as the niece of one of the richest women in the city.
“Wear your prettiest blouse today,” Xiang ordered her one morning over breakfast. “The purple one with the gold embroidery. Mei is coming for lunch. It will be very casual, of course, but she will be inspecting you. You want to look your best but not as if you were trying.”
Daiyu hid a smile. Any high-school girl completely understood that imperative. “Yes, Mistress.”
So she changed into the new purple blouse, wearing it over the omnipresent black pants—though both top and trousers were of incredibly fine material and so perfectly made that they turned her ordinary figure into an exquisite hourglass. It had been fairly easy to learn how to use the cosmetics available to her, so she applied what passed for rouge, mascara, and lip gloss. Xiang had carelessly lent her a whole case full of jewelry, but for a “casual” meal, Daiyu would keep her gold hoops. She appraised herself in the polished chrome square and thought she looked pretty good.
Daiyu was surprised, but Xiang obviously was not, when Mei arrived with her son in tow. “I hope you don’t mind,” Mei said after kissing Xiang on the cheek. “He told me he had very important plans today but they were canceled, and I said, ‘You have not shown any respect to my old friend Xiang in many months. Why don’t you take me to her house?’ He will not stay for the meal, of course, I would not be so rude as to bring along an uninvited guest—”
“I would not be so rude as to turn aside a young man who has kindly escorted his mother out on a summer day!” Xiang replied. “I am sure those lazy servants have prepared plenty of food. One should always be prepared to show hospitality to friends.”
“Daiyu, have you met my son Quan?” Mei asked, drawing him forward. “He is my youngest and a very good man.”
Daiyu finally lifted her eyes to get a good look at Quan. He was about average height and solidly built, with his black hair cut very short and eyes of a peculiar light gray. He wore tiny silver hoops in both ears, and two silver rings on his left hand. His expression was friendly enough—slightly embarrassed and slightly amused to be part of his mother’s machinations, but not truly uncomfortable—and his gaze was direct. He was wearing all black, embroidered with cobalt blue stars. Like her own, a studiedly casual look. Apparently, only Daiyu had been unaware that this meeting would occur.
She guessed that he was at least five years older than she was, so it was his place to initiate the conversation, which he did immediately. “Hello, Daiyu,” he said, extending his palm, briefly touching hers, then letting his arm fall. “I saw you at my mother’s breakfast, I think.”
“Yes, and I saw you,” she said, then winced at the inanity of her reply.
“Oh! There were so many people there! No time to get to know each other,” Xiang said. “This is much better for real friends to talk. Quan, I am so glad you can join us.”
They moved to a dining room that Daiyu had not been in before. This was a much bigger space, obviously designed to accommodate large numbers of guests, though today it was divided into a more intimate configuration by the placement of several painted screens. The rest of the décor was similarly opulent—velvet chairs, fussy wall sconces, an arboretum of plants, and half a dozen small jade statues on pedestals scattered around the room.
The rectangular table had been set with three places, but servants were even now ostentatiously laying a fourth place—to make it very clear that Quan had not been expected. Another servant came in, bowed to Xiang, and unobtrusively removed a black jade figurine of a bearded man.
Daiyu widened her eyes and did a quick count. Now there were five statues and four live people in the room. Nine individuals to sit at the meal. She tilted her head down and did her best to keep from smiling.
“Please, everybody, sit,” Xiang said, waving her hand. “Mei, you must try this chair! I just bought it and I cannot decide. Do you think it is comfortable enough to keep? Is it perhaps too bright in color? I need someone who has good taste to advise me.”
This little charade, of course, meant that Mei would be granted the best seat at the table. Daiyu hung back as Xiang carelessly directed Quan to his place—“Why don’t you sit there?”—then took her own chair. The empty spot belonged to Daiyu. She had been unable to decide if it would be better to be seated next to Quan, where she would be forced to speak to him, or across from him, where he might have ample opportunity to stare at her. It looked like the matriarchs wanted them to talk. Still keeping her eyes modestly lowered, she slipped into the seat beside him.
At first, there was no opportunity for conversation. Course after course was brought to the table, and all anyone remarked on between bites was the deliciousness of the food. Even by Xiang’s gourmet standards, Daiyu had to agree, the meal was outstanding.
Not until they were sipping tea and nibbling on a chocolate confection did the foursome have a chance to resolve into couples. “Xiang! Did you hear what that awful Lanfen said to me?” Mei demanded.
“Tell me,” Xiang replied, her black eyes already alight with malice. “Though I can believe that she would say anything.”
The older women turned their shoulders toward the other two and leaned forward to exchange low-voiced gossip. Of course, they would be able to audit anything Quan and Daiyu might find to talk about, but it was clear they were urging the younger two to try to make conversation.
Daiyu knew better than to speak first. She blew on her tea to cool it and took another sip. Part of her was fighting down a disastrous desire to giggle. That Xiang would truly be matchmaking for her false niece! That Mei’s son might actually show an interest in her! It was so calamitous it could only be funny.
“I understand you are a visitor to Shenglang,” Quan said at last.
She was not going to make this easy for him. Maybe he would decide she was rude and tell his mother he was not interested in pursuing her. “Yes.”
“Where do you normally live?”
“With my parents in the northwestern provinces.”
“It is much better in Shenglang, don’t you think?”
“Much better,” she replied.
There was a little silence.
“I have traveled to other parts of the world,” Quan announced.
For a moment Daiyu was startled. Most of the inhabitants of Jia she had encountered so far seemed to believe Shenglang was the only part of this planet that actually mattered. She had started to think there were no other continents or cities. “Really? Where did you go?”
He reeled off a few names and when, just to keep the conversation from becoming impossibly awkward, she asked a few questions, he willingly responded with expanded detail. From what she could piece together, he had been to the parts of Jia that corresponded to Russia and China, and he would like to go to Europe. His mother, it seemed, had an interest
in foreign trade, and Quan was of a commercial bent.
“My sisters only care about spending money,” he said, his voice scornful. “But I like to make it.”
“I might like to spend money if I had it,” Daiyu said wistfully. “But I’ve always been forced to be very frugal.”
She thought he might be disgusted at the reminder that she waspoor, but instead he seemed pleased to learn she knew how to economize. He nodded approvingly. “It’s good to be careful with money,” he said. “We are lucky we have a prime minister who understands taxes and revenue.”
Ah, finally a topic that she cared about. “I met the prime minister at your mother’s breakfast,” she said. “He seemed like a very intelligent man.”
Quan grew animated. “Brilliant! He can analyze any situation and discover the solution. He can bring together warring factions and get consensus on issues that have divided the city for generations.”
Daiyu was so surprised, she actually looked up at him. His gray eyes were full of admiration. “Really? What kind of issues?”
“The river, for one,” Quan said. “Perhaps you have had an opportunity to learn how we mine for qiji stones?”
Daiyu nodded. Oh, yes.
“My mother owns some of the companies that test and buy qiji gems,” he said with some satisfaction. “She makes a great deal of money from them. So do many of the other wealthy families of Shenglang. But ten years ago, there was a bitter dispute with the cities farther down the river. They claimed that we were mining too many qiji stones. Because they, too, dam the river and sort through the stones to find treasure.”
That hadn’t even occurred to her, but naturally, if the river flowed by analog cities such as Memphis and New Orleans, the residents of those towns would also want to pull wealth from the water.
“It was very ugly,” Quan continued. “Southern cities were making pacts with northern cities to send more workers upstream to mine all the qiji stones before they could make it to Shenglang. There was talk here of permanently damming and rerouting the Zhongbu River. It was a bad time.”
