“What were you thinking, Sau-leyan?”
“Hsueh pai,” he said, then, seeing that she made nothing of the word, added, “It’s nothing. Just a childhood thing. The swans reminded me.” She came across and stood beside him, studying the swans, like an empress even in her nakedness. He stared at her a moment, then placed his hand against her flank, surprised to find her warm. She looked down at his hand and laughed. “Was it not enough for you, my lord?” “It is never enough. When you come here it’s”—he shrugged— “well, it’s like I’m home. As if the rest were all a dream, and this here ...” She reached up, taking his hands. “I know.” It was a strangely fragile gesture, very different from the strength he normally associated with her. Kneeling, he drew her close and held her to him.
“It will change,” he said. “I shall make you my Empress.”
She pushed herself back, looking at him sharply. “Impossible.”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll make it possible.”
She shuddered. “You think the Seven will let you?” “Those bastards . . . they’ll permit me nothing. And yet I am a T’ang. I may do as I wish, surely?”
She was still watching him, her face unchanged. Then, as if she had made a choice, she lowered her eyes and slowly shook her head. “No, Wang Sau-leyan. I’ll not let you. You would ruin yourself for my sake, and where would we both be then?”
She touched his cheek, making him look at her again. “Promise me, my lord.
Promise me you’ll do nothing rash.”
He smiled and kissed her gently. “I promise.” But in his mind he was picturing how it would be once the Seven had been honed to One, when, as Son of Heaven, he would take her for his bride, mixing their bloodlines in the start of a great new Dynasty. No one would laugh at him that day. No, he would stand no mockery when he was Huang Ti. “Good,” she said, drawing him close, her face buried in the folds of his stomach. “Then come to bed. I need you. . . .”
nan ho looked up from his desk, glaring at the man who sat before him. “Aiya! Why was I not told of this before now? Why has it had to come to this before I was informed?”
The Minister, chastened by the Chancellor’s tone, kept his head low, his
eyes averted. “I thought it would blow over, Excellency. I thought—“
“You thought! More like you didn’t think. More like you ignored your
Junior Ministers memoranda while you pissed away your time in
whorehouses!”
The Minister’s head bobbed up, astonished by the Chancellors outburst.
“Why, Excellency! I protest!”
“Be quiet, man!” Nan Ho roared, standing, his face dark with anger. “Don’t you realize what’s happening, Yang Shao-fu? We have a full-scale epidemic on our hands—something we haven’t seen in more than a century—and you’ve been sitting on your ass for four days, hoping it would ‘blow over’! What am I to tell the T’ang? That his Minister ignored the facts? That he was so incompetent that nearly thirty thousand people died before he took notice?”
Minister Yang was almost curled into a ball now, his head almost touching his knees as he answered Nan Ho. “It was all so ... unprecedented, Excellency. Such a thing”—he swallowed—“as you say, it has not happened in several lifetimes.”
“Which is what makes it all the more worrying, nehl Why in the gods’ names did you not come to me at once?” The Chancellor sighed, exasperated. “And today, of all days, when there is so much else to be done!” He turned away, holding a hand up to his brow. “So . . . what have you done? What measures have been taken?”
“Excellency?”
Nan Ho turned back, astonished to find the Minister staring up at him, his face a blank. “You’ve taken measures, I assume. Quarantine procedures and the like?”
Yang Shao-fu shook his head.
“The gods preserve us!” He took a long breath, then began again, trying hard to keep his patience. “Look. What do we know? Do we know, for instance, where the thing originated?”
“Where it originated? No, Excellency. That we do not know. But we do know where it first came into the City.”
“We know something! Ahh . . . Well, speak, then, Yang Shao-fu. Tell me.
Please.”
“The first cases were reported at the southern ports. At Naples Hsien and Marseilles.”
Nan Ho sat, understanding at once. His voice was the merest breath.
“Africa . . . it’s coming in from Africa.” “Of course,” Yang rambled on, pleased now that he had something, at least, to report, “we can’t be sure of its source, but first indications are—“ “Oh, do shut up, man! Let me think!”
Again Yang Shao-fu sat back, his mouth open, staring at the Chancellor in astonishment. In all his years as Minister he had never been treated so rudely, so ... offhandedly.
“Yes,” Nan Ho said thoughtfully, as if talking to himself. “There’s no other way. We’ll have to close the ports and ban all traffic between the two Cities. It’s a big step, but there’s no alternative. As for the epidemic itself, we must take immediate steps to isolate the affected areas.”
“Close the ports?” Yang said, his eyes wide. “By whose authority?” “By the authority invested in me by Li Yuan!” Nan Ho said, leaning across his desk, his whole manner defiant now. “Look, Minister Yang, we have wasted far too much time already. It would not do to waste another hour. I want all the affected areas cordoned off at once and placed under the very tightest security, and all those who’ve traveled in those areas must be traced and isolated too. Every last one, understand? Oh, and I want you to report to me every hour on the hour, understand me? From now on I want to know everything that happens.”
The Minister hesitated, then bowed his head. “Good. Then get going, Yang Shao-fu. Now!” Nan Ho stood, shooing him away as if he were the most junior clerk. “Come on, man! Go and redeem yourself. ...” Then, beneath his breath: “If that’s possible.”
mary looked about her at the huge expanse of the Mansion’s ballroom, at the great swaths of bunting and colored silk, and sighed deeply. It was almost done, the last of the preparations finished, three days of solid work complete, but still she wasn’t happy. She had never liked these occasions, not that they’d had much chance to throw that many parties back in America, but it wasn’t what she had been bom to and the pleasure she derived from them never outweighed the discomfort she always felt. In the past she had only gone to them because of Michael. But this time it was her own party and there would be no chance to slip away when things really got her down, no escape from the limelight until the last guest left, sometime in the early hours.
She turned, hearing footsteps in the hallway, then broke into a smile.
“Gloria! Thank the gods you’re here.”
Gloria Chung came across, beaming, embracing her friend, then stepped back, surveying the preparations.
“It looks great, Mary. It really does. Who did you use?” “It’s someone that a friend recommended. They’re very good. I don’t know how I’d have coped without them. Mind you, we’ve had a few problems this morning. Three of her girls reported sick and we had dreadful trouble finding replacements. You wouldn’t dream—“ She stopped. “Gods, listen to me. . . .” She turned away, her eyes running over the banners and decorations, checking to see all was well, the habit of the last three days hard to shake. “I don’t like it. All the pretense.
I—“