“He’ll only deal with me,” said Jessamy, sitting back again to hug my knees comfortably. “I met him this year when Abeoji sent me to Sunderland for some old music he bought. I had to copy it all there because it’s old and fragile and doesn’t travel well, and I got some ideas for a composition while I was doing that. Yong-hwa hyung was there for an ancient violin—musty thing it was, too, but at least it didn’t disintegrate when he brought it back into the country. He was criticising the Sunderland music and I didn’t like it much, either, so—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “I thought you said you had some ideas for your own compositions while you were copying it? If you didn’t like it—”
“Well, I liked the idea,” said Jessamy earnestly, “but they’d done it all wrong, so I had some ideas about how to do it right. And Yong-hwa hyung agreed, and I didn’t know who he was, and we talked for days and days until I found out, and after that he said he thought he’d keep me.”
I gave a small sniff of laughter. “Did he so? Did you tell him you already have an owner?”
Jessamy gave me his biggest smile. “Of course, Nuna!”
“And so you both travelled back together, taking it in stages so as not to ruin the violin or the music, and spent weeks on the road.”
“Nuna! Did you know already?”
“No,” I said. “But it seemed likely. What did Abeoji say about that?”
Jessamy grinned. “A fair bit, but he soon stopped when I told him Yong-hwa hyung wanted to publish a series of music booklets with us because I’m the only one he trusts with ’em.”
“Well done, you, Jessamy-a!” I said cordially.
“Wasn’t it, though?” agreed Jessamy. “It’s a good thing I’m such a humble person, isn’t it, Nuna?”
There was a party that night, of course. Jessamy ran away before it was due to start, warning me that I probably wouldn’t see him again until he came down to Eun-hee’s estate.
“I have too much work to do,” he told me, with a self-conscious look of importance at which it was very difficult for me to restrain a smile.
Eun-hee, as unfailingly nice as ever, made sure I was packed into the Contraption lane puffer with my couch strapped to its usual place on the padded parcel bench at the back, and Carlin there, too, to make sure it stayed in place. Eun-hee knows how much I enjoy parties. Perhaps that’s why she likes me so much: she fancies we’re kindred spirits.
We puffed into the turning circle at a fashionably late hour, our wheels alternately squelching through horse droppings and clacking against paving stones. Eun-hee summoned footmen with the effortless command that she always exudes and made them carry me through the press in the hall. Still, despite her energetic bossiness, I wasn’t remarked upon as I was carried in on my couch. People parted to allow me through without noticing they were doing so, and I amused myself for a little while by lightly touching the rich fabrics of skirts and waistcoats as I passed. It was a pastime I often partook of; Eppans are so little inclined to casual touch that it’s always a game to see how long I can tug at someone’s hem before they’re forced to notice me. It’s very rude, of course, but since I’m as little inclined to give way to an overpowering feeling of shame as I am to give way to any other type of overpowering feeling, I continue to do it. Maybe there’s a small part of me that thinks others deserve some minuscule impolite return for ignoring me. I know they can’t help it—that it’s my wandering soul, or a lingering effect of the Dreams—but Jessamy and Carlin can see me all the time, after all. Why should a handful of people see me, and the rest be oblivious? I doubted I would ever know. And so I contented myself with small impolitnesses.
Eun-hee bossed her way through her hostess’s house until she had chivvied the footmen to carry me to the concave gallery that overlooked the ballroom and a decent section of the main hall. The balcony was low and delicate, leading her to ask anxiously, “You won’t fall, will you, Clovis-a?”
“I don’t think so,” I said mildly, motioning Carlin away to fetch me something to eat and drink. I was more awake tonight than usual, still remarkably free from the clinging of Dreams, and therefore had a little more motion than usual. It wasn’t enough motion to do more than sit up by myself without the aid of pillows, however, and I couldn’t see myself plummeting from the gallery from the overexertion of sitting.
“All right then,” she said. “I’ll go down to the dancing. If you’re sure.”
“I’m quite sure,” I said, since she was hovering. Eun-hee loves dancing, but she loses strength easily. The sooner she could begin, the more likely it was that she would be able to dance her favourite dances. “And don’t worry about refreshments; Carlin will bring me a platter.”
“I don’t know why you bring that footman of yours everywhere,” muttered Eun-hee, a cloud passing briefly over her face.
A smile came and went on my face in an instant. “Yes, you do.”
“Oh well, even if the footmen ignore you, I’m quite capable of looking after you,” pouted Eun-hee. “It’s unseemly to bring one’s footman everywhere with one. People will talk.”
“People always talk,” I said, shrugging. “I like Carlin, and he’s useful. Who else would carry me everywhere and do what I ask of him without question?”
“And that’s another thing,” complained Eun-hee. “You shouldn’t be calling him by his first name. If someone else were inclined to carry you everywhere and do whatever you ask of him without question, what do you think he’d think about that?”
“They’re starting the circle dances,” I pointed out. Eun-hee has an exhausting habit of talking in capital letters, and I was already weary of the subject. Jessamy was the only other person who would ever carry me everywhere, and he wasn’t likely to be annoyed by something so ridiculous as my addressing Carlin by his first name.
Eun-hee, forgetting the subject at hand, squeaked and disappeared down the gallery to join the mob below. I watched her through the throng, my eyes on her very Scandian coiffure as it darted between other Scandian-inspired efforts and more traditionally Eppan flowing styles. At last she arrived at her destination: a young man who looked both relieved and bashful to see her approaching. Eun-hee has never been backward about dancing with boys half her age, and since they seem more than willing to dance with her, I can only assume that they have no scruples about her age, either.
I gave a soft huff of laughter and let my eyes flick past the two of them, further into the dance. Colourful skirts flew, magnificent hair arrangements came within a hairbreadth of ruin, and I caught more than one sparkle in the throng as jewels around the room caught against the bright Contraption lights above. I always prefer the softness of Energy lighting, suited to fading away into Dreams, but I can’t deny that the brightness of Contraption lighting does bring out the life in a ballroom.
I watched the glitter and movement as it revolved below me, and became aware of Carlin beside me. He was holding a platter in his gloved hands.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m awake. Did you get me a drink?”
“Yes, miss,” he said. “Lemonade.”
“All right,” I murmured. There was something familiar to the shimmer of the dance below. What was it? I studied the dance more closely, a frown forming between my brows, and absently reached for the glass of lemonade. My fingers closed around it, but Carlin’s didn’t release it, his gloved fingers and the glass alike slipping beneath mine.
I sighingly turned my attention from the dance to favour him with one of my more lingering, wondering looks. “Carlin?”
He released the glass immediately, clearing his throat. “Sorry, miss. I thought—you won’t drop it over the balcony, will you?”
People were very concerned today. I turned my eyes back to the dance and said, “Not unless I need to.”
“Sorry, miss.”
“You’re better than Eun-hee, I suppose,” I said. “She thought I was likely to fall from the gallery myself. You didn’t think that, did you, Carlin?”
“No, miss,” said Carlin. “I wouldn’t let you.”
I turned another look on him, but this one only made him stand a little straighter. He might even have smiled. “Do you think I can’t stop myself from falling out of my couch?”
“If force of mind could do it, I’d have no doubt, miss,” said Carlin.
Did his smile grow slightly? I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re very cheeky again today, Carlin.”
“I’m always cheeky, miss,” he said. “I got the impression it’s what you like about me.”
“You’re mistaken,” I said. “I don’t like anything or anyone. I haven’t got the energy. Remember that.”
He was certainly grinning at me. “Yes, miss.”
“Stand behind me, Carlin,” I complained. “You’re distracting me from something I’m trying to puzzle out.”
He bowed and stepped back, but I was certain that the smile hadn’t disappeared from his face. I pushed him from my mind like a lingering Dream I didn’t want to consider and turned my attention back on the dance below, where the sparkling familiarity was still moving through the figures.
“Ah,” I said aloud. “It’s him.”
It was Yong-hwa, his earrings throwing sparks of light that mingled with the shards of light from the Contraption chandeliers above. His face was as beautiful and bored as ever as he moved through the dance, a self-contained pocket of untouchability in the shifting throng. Today his hair was swept up and high, away from his face, but it didn’t do away with the sense of self-isolation that his close-combed hair and heavy fringe usually accentuated in his face. He was perfectly polite to each of the partners he passed hands with in the circle dance, but though he smiled at each of them, his eyes still held that faintly bored air. If I had been one of his partners—or, more importantly, if I’d been capable of feeling such things—I would have been feeling both annoyed and slighted. It was that boredom in Yong-hwa that I’d first recognised; it was nearly the strongest feeling of which I was capable.
“So hard to please,” I sighed. After all, I had a reason to be bored. What reason was there for Yong-hwa to be so very bored?
Carlin’s voice said abruptly, “Who?”
“Behind me, I said,” I reminded him. Why had he stepped forward? “There’s someone down there that I know, nosy niggle. Oh, now. That’s interesting. What has he seen, I wonder?”
Yong-hwa was gazing over his current partner’s elegant shoulder with a slight—a very slight—sharpening of his cheeks. In his eyes there had kindled a gleam of warm amusement. I followed that gaze and was unsurprised to find myself looking at a richly-dressed Ae-jung, who was also passing through the dance.
Goodness. That was either very brave or very silly of her. She had to know she ran the risk of meeting someone from her working life here in her old life. She was laughing and exchanging remarks with another girl over the music, as light of foot as she was of heart. The dance was an engagement affair, and the other girl was wearing a bride-to-be hanbok; Ae-jung had come for this friend’s sake, then.
If she had, she was shortly to regret it. From my superior vantage point I had seen something of which Ae-jung was blissfully unaware: farther down the dance, slowly but inevitably making his way toward her, just as she was making her way toward him, was Hyun-jun.
“Even more interesting,” I said. No wonder I hadn’t been troubled by Dreams since arriving at the party; all the good things were here.
If Yong-hwa gave the impression of untouchability, Hyun-jun radiated an almost offended air of wild dislike for everything and everyone around him. I’d heard him referred to as a tortured soul, and the dancing ladies must have found his mien attractive, because each of his partners was gazing up into that pained face with wide-eyed reverence.
I threw an inquisitive look at Yong-hwa. Although he hadn’t yet broken into a smile, his face was now alight with the warmth of laughter. His quick eyes had seen Hyun-jun also. He would meet and dance with Ae-jung first, but Hyun-jun would eventually get to her, too.
“Just as I thought,” I said. “I have the best seat in the house.”
The dance circled below, Ae-jung carefree and light, Yong-hwa all sharp cheekbones and bright eyes. And slowly, slowly, with an inexorable sort of gaiety, the dance circled Ae-jung closer to Hyun-jun. If I was right, they would meet somewhere in the shadow of my balcony—assuming, of course, that Yong-hwa did exactly what I was planning on doing, which was to watch on in enjoyment. I didn’t find that particularly likely. What was he planning, then? He certainly seemed to have a bias toward helping Ae-jung out of her difficulties, whether or not she always knew about it. I settled my chin a little more comfortably on the palm of my hand and prepared to enjoy myself. It would be interesting to see what he came up with to get her out of this situation. From where I was sitting there were limited options, but I’d already been given the impression that Yong-hwa was remarkably inventive in his machinations.
Ae-jung was passing hands with her latest partner when she finally saw Hyun-jun. The dance faltered in her part of the circle, a bright flare of discord in the rhythm, and I looked instinctively toward Yong-hwa. The dancers revolved as one in a hands-over spin, and I briefly saw the flash of his teeth in the flurry. Ae-jung, now only several partners away, caught herself up again, her face quite white, and the dance regained its surface smoothness, though there was a dangerous undertow to it.
Fortunately for his partners, Yong-hwa no longer gave off the faint air of boredom. Unfortunately for them, his interest was captivated by something else, and his politeness was as impenetrable as ever. The girls who clung softly to his fingers in the crossing of hands were twirled on with Yong-hwa’s company smile that didn’t go all the way to his eyes. He wasn’t so rude as to ignore his partners, but his eyes were most often on Ae-jung, who passed hands and set left and right with the hunted look of a fox pursued by hounds. And as he watched her, Yong-hwa’s eyes glowed with such a light of laughter that I thought they were as bright as the glittering chandeliers above.
Behind me, his voice just a little higher than usual, Carlin said, “Miss! Miss, you’re awfully close to the edge!”
I looked down at the delicate balcony and found it closer than I’d thought. There was a hand resting on it, long fingers curled around the edge, and it took me a little while to recognise it as my own. My other hand, with the stemmed glass of lemonade tilting dangerously, was dangling just a little over the edge.
“Didn’t I tell you, Carlin?” I said, blinking a little. “I won’t drop anything unless it’s necessary. Oh! What’s this?”
There was another riptide in the steady flow of the dance. I looked away from Ae-jung and Yong-hwa in time to see Hyun-jun’s head twitching left and right over his partner’s shoulder in an attempt to see through the dance. Had he seen Ae-jung? He was frowning, his eyes sharp and darting; he had seen her, but not clearly enough to be sure. His unfortunate partner found herself being danced through the set far too quickly and was partnerless for a good few seconds before her next partner was ready for her. Hyun-jun, waiting impatiently for his own next partner, craned his head to see across the dance. Ae-jung, panicked and too aware of his movements to miss the motion, was sent on to Yong-hwa. She ducked her head out of sight behind Yong-hwa’s chest, unwittingly moving herself into a couple hold more commonly used by engaged Eppans, and Yong-hwa pulled her a little closer, his eyes fairly alight with laughter. Ae-jung hadn’t even realised it was he. She was so caught up in not being seen by Hyun-jun that Yong-hwa could have been my father and she wouldn’t have recognised him. This time around she didn’t even try to keep her eyes on Hyun-jun; she simply hid behind Yong-hwa, who sheltered her profile from sight with his arms and spun her close and quick in the hands-over. Hyun-jun craned his neck and stood on his toes in vain, his darting eyes at once unsure and sharply suspicious. He danced a second partner through the set far too quickly, but it did him no good. At the next change, when Yong-hwa should have passed Ae-jung
down the set to meet with her next partner—and undoubtedly the gaze of Hyun-jun—he simply danced her a pace or two out of the set and allowed the line to join again naturally before he brought them back into the set, one couple up from where they had been. Hyun-jun didn’t realise what had happened at first, and his scowl was more puzzled than fierce, but I saw him measuring the distance with his eyes, and then I saw his lips move as he counted. I sniffed a laugh as his face darkened from puzzlement to outright annoyance. He’d obviously recognised Yong-hwa, even if he wasn’t sure about Ae-jung, and he was as obviously familiar with the trick Yong-hwa had played.
“This is a pretty game,” I said. I wasn’t sure whether I was speaking to myself or to Carlin—or was I speaking to Yong-hwa? “But two can play at it, so you’d better think of something else. Don’t expect me to help you.”
Sure enough, at the next change Hyun-jun also pulled his starry-eyed partner from the dance and moved up a place. Yong-hwa smiled once, a small, mocking thing that took me by surprise, and continued to shield Ae-jung from sight. They were almost beneath the balcony by now, and I saw Yong-hwa’s eyes flicking beyond the dance. There was a set of double doors there; I had seen them as I was carried up the circling stairs on pilgrimage to my present high seat. He was planning on whisking Ae-jung right out of the dance? If that was the case, I could only assume that Yong-hwa expected Hyun-jun to play the part of the jealous husband. Judging by Hyun-jun’s increasingly erratic dancing, Yong-hwa wasn’t too far from the mark.
I really didn’t mean to get involved. It wasn’t a Dream, and although I was quite willing for Yong-hwa to succeed in getting the girl, I didn’t feel that I was prepared to expend any sort of energy on that sentiment of goodwill. But when Yong-hwa twirled the shrinking Ae-jung out of the dance and made for the double doors with a seamless but really very impressive turn of speed, I wasn’t able to help myself. Hyun-jun abandoned his indignant partner and dashed from the dance himself, and for a moment I felt the fiercest sense of determination I’d had since I hauled Jessamy’s senseless body from the stream.
Lady of Dreams Page 9
