"Then we must teach the boys to cook, Papa Lin."
He considered that, then nodded. "A good idea, Mama Em. And who knows, maybe some of them will find positions in one of the big houses."
"Who knows?" she said, looking up at him and smiling as she pulled the cart to a halt.
"So what have we?" he said, poking through the pile, picking out things and setting them aside. Behind him, she saw, the two work benches had been cleared in preparation.
"Bits and bobs," she said, uttering the words she always uttered.
He looked up at her and smiled, then continued with his work. "I take it you went to see the Imperial barge."
"How did you know?"
"Oh, I know you, Mama Em," he said, not looking up from where his hands were busy working through the pile. "Besides, young Ji has been talking about nothing else for days now, and I knew you'd not disappoint him."
She looked down at the infant at her side and smiled, resting her hand on his head. "I guess not."
"So, Ji," Lin said, taking a chipped blue and white chung from the left of the pile and frowning at it, "what was it like?"
Ji glanced at Emily, then answered his adopted father. "It was wonderful, Papa Lin. Solid gold, it was."
"Solid gold, eh?" Lin looked back at Ji and nodded gravely, as if awed, then looked past him at Emily and winked. "And yet it floated. That is a miracle, neh?"
"A miracle," Ji agreed, his eyes widening as he took in what Lin had said. "And there was a prince - a Hung Mao prince -standing at the very front of the boat, holding on to the neck of the dragon. He had long, black hair and a nose like a great hunting bird."
"Like a bird, eh?" Lin said, nodding once more. "That must have been Shepherd's son."
"Sheh-pud?" Ji frowned, not recognising the name.
Lin looked to Emily once more. "Something big is happening, Mama Em. They say people are coming to Mannheim from all over. The spaceport has been closed to normal traffic and there's talk that ships have been coming in from Africa and America."
"America?" She stared at him, astonished. "But I thought.. ."
"The times are changing," he said, setting the chung aside and stepping across. "Fan Sheng-chih was here earlier and he was saying that the word from the palace is that the prince is about to take a bride."
"What would Old Fan know?" she said dismissively. "Why, if one were to believe one tenth of what he says!"
"Maybe. But for once I think he might be right. Rumours are buzzing about like flies on a corpse right now, and that would not be so were there not something behind it all. Besides . . . you saw the barge."
She nodded. She had indeed seen the barge. And as for the rumours - well, she'd heard enough to convince her that something was happening.
Lin turned back to the cart and began to sort through it once more, setting down items on the table at his side. "Old Fan says the garrisons up-river are on alert."
"Uh-huh?" But this time she didn't query it. No, for she'd heard the same, from one of her friends whose son was in the Schwetzingen barracks.
"So what do you think, Mama Em?" Lin said, lifting a threadbare doll from the pile. "Is it a bride for the prince, or is it something else?"
"Master Thomas?"
The voice came from outside in the corridor. Tom sat up, then turned slowly on the narrow bunk, staring across the cabin toward the part-opened doorway.
"It me, Master Thomas. It Yun."
A face poked round the door - the face of the young Third Cook, the left side of his face pocked like gritted stone. It was an unashamedly ugly face but the almond eyes were bright.
Tom raised an eyebrow in mute query.
Yun stepped inside and, closing the door behind him, turned, holding out his hand.
Tom edged forward. It was a tiny black cassette, no bigger than an old-fashioned snuff-box - a Stim. He reached out and took it, turning it in his hand, studying the embossed logo - the symbol kuei, "casket", enclosed within a hexagon - then made to give it back.
"No," Yun said. "It for you. You must try. You like. I guarantee."
Tom looked at him dubiously. Only one thing was certain where Yun was concerned - whatever it was, it was illicit and it was probably trouble. If there were any scams on board, Yun was at the centre of them. He might only be seventeen - less than a year older than Tom - yet he seemed ancient in the ways of the world.
Tom stared at the Stim a moment, then shrugged and put it on the bedside table.
Yun smiled, satisfied. "What you do tonight?"
Tom shrugged. Nothing. He was doing nothing, as ever.
"You come with me? Meet my family?"
Tom stared at him, surprised, then nodded.
"Good. After we dock. You wait hour, then meet. At stern gangplank. My friend Chan on duty. He no see us slip past, neh?"
Tom almost smiled at that. Fine, but he would have to find some excuse; feign illness, perhaps.
Yun beamed, showing uneven, yellowed teeth. "I see you then. In meantime you be good boy, eh, Tom? Very good boy."
He sat there after Yun had gone, staring at the cassette. He knew what it was - at least, he thought he knew - but did he really want to know? For a moment longer he hesitated, then jumped down and rummaged through his trunk, searching for the special trim-line headset his mother had bought him for his last birthday. Maybe it wasn't a Porn-Stim, after all. Maybe it was a SportStim or an EduStim and Yun was just teasing him. But what if it was?
His hand closed on the headset's casing. He swallowed, then went across and drew the latch on the door. Back on his bed, he pulled on the headset and lay back.
If it is .. .
With trembling fingers he fed the Stim into the slot. There was a soft accepting hum and then the visor slid down, moulding itself over his eyes and cheeks like a mask.
Suddenly, vividly, he was there.
She was tall and willowy, her skin pale, her long black hair flowing loosely down her naked back. At first she was standing with her back to him, but as she turned he saw she was Hung Mao; saw - with a small ripple of surprise - that her breasts were full, her nipples stiffly erect.
He shivered, his mouth suddenly dry.
"Hello," she mouthed, smiling at him, her dark, hazel eyes seeming to recognise him. "It's been a long time since you came to see me. Where have you been, you naughty boy?"
Nowhere, he wanted to say, I've been nowhere, but she was speaking again, moving towards him as she did, leaning over him so that he could smell her lightly perfumed skin.
"You should come and see your Aunt Lucy more often, you know. It's very . . ." He felt her brush against him, soft as silk, and shuddered, conscious of the growing stiffness at his groin, " . . .unfilial of you."
Part of his mind wondered what was unfilial about not visiting this woman whom he did not know, but mainly he was conscious of the sudden, overwhelming warmth of her as she eased herself onto his lap, her legs wrapped about him.
So real she felt. And if he were to place his hands on her. . .
He moved his hands, even as, in the Stim, ghost hands reached out to cup her firm, warm buttocks and draw her down onto him, groin to groin. For a moment the doubleness confused him. The trick, they said, was to relax and let the Stim do all the work. He let his real hands fall back onto the bed, Kis ghost hands stroking the soft, firm flesh of the woman's back, his lips moving to her breast to lick and kiss the firm bud of her nipple.
And even as he did, he felt something give beneath the insistent stiffness of his penis and he was inside her, her softness breached.
He groaned silently, his whole body going into spasm, and still the Stim went on, her movements against him seeming to milk him, to draw him up out of himself into a darkness he had never known.