Yes, but watch yourself, Hans Ebert. One day you'll make one joke too many, speak out of place once too often, and then your riches will not help you. No, nor your connections.
The smallest of the girls rose with a bow and came toward them, head lowered. "Would the gentlemen like ch'a?"
Ebert answered for them. "Gods no! Bring us something stronger. Some wine. And something to eat too. I'm ravenous!"
Embarrassed by Ebert's brash, proprietorial manner and awkward on his own account, Axel watched the others sit on cushions Crimson Lotus brought for them. "Will you not sit with us?" she asked him, coming much closer than she had before. The sweet delicacy of her scent was intoxicating and her dark eyes were like a lover's, sharing some secret understanding.
"I'd best not," he said, rather too stiffly. My sisters... he had almost added. He looked down, suddenly embarrassed. Yes, that was why. He had promised his sisters. Had sworn on his honor that he would keep himself clean. Would not do as other men did.
He shuddered and met the girl's eyes again. "If you would send for Mu Chua. Perhaps she would find me a room. I'll eat there and take my rest."
Crimson Lotus smiled, unoffended, nothing behind her smile this time. Her disappointment had been momentary; now she was the perfect hostess once more, all personal thoughts banished. "If you will wait a moment, I shall summon her."
But Mu Chua had been watching everything. She appeared in the doorway at once, knowing what to do, what to say, in this instance. She had been told beforehand that it might be so.
"Please follow me, Shih Haavikko. There is a room prepared. I will take you there."
Axel bowed, grateful, then looked across at Ebert and Fest. Fest met his eyes and gave the briefest nod, acknowledging his departure, but Ebert ignored him, concentrating on the young girl—she looked barely ten—who sat beside him now.
"What is the young girl's name?" Haavikko asked Mu Chua, keeping his voice low.
Mu Chua smiled. "That's Golden Heart. She's the baby of the house. A sweet young thing, don't you think?"
He stared at the girl a moment longer, then turned back to Mu Chua. "If you would take me to my room."
Mu Chua smiled, all understanding. "Of course."
AXEL WOKE to find the room dark, a strange smell in the air. He sat up suddenly, alert, his training taking over, then remembered where he was and forced himself to relax. But still he felt on edge. Something was wrong. Something. . .
He heard it. Heard the second thread of breathing in the silent darkness. He felt to his left. Nothing. Then to his right. His hand met a soft warmth.
He swallowed, recognizing the musky smell for what it was. What had they done? Drugged him? And what else? He had seen too many covert operations not to feel vulnerable. What if Ebert had set this up? What if he'd had him drugged, then taped what he'd subsequently done? He shivered and slowly edged away from the girl—was it a girl?—who lay there next to him in the bed, then felt behind him for a lighting panel.
His hand met the slight indentation in the wall. At once a soft light lay across the center of the bed, blurring into darkness.
Axel gasped and his eyes widened, horrified. "Kuan Yin preserve me!" he whispered. •
The girl was Hung Mao. A tall, blond-haired girl with full breasts and an athletic build. She lay there, undisturbed by the light, one hand up at her neck, the fingers laced into her long, thick hair, the other resting on her smoothly muscled stomach, the fingers pointing down to the rich growth of pubic hair.
Axel stared at her, horrified and yet fascinated, his eyes drawn to her ice-white breasts, to the soft, down-covered swell of her sex. Then he looked at her face again and shuddered. So like her. So very like her. As if...
He turned away, swallowing, then looked back, his eyes drawn once more to those parts of her he'd never seen. Never dreamed he'd see.
It couldn't be. Surely it couldn't. . . ?
"Vesa. . ." he whispered, leaning closer. "Vesa. . ." It was his sister's name.
The head turned, the eyes opened. Astonishingly blue eyes, like his sister's. But different. Oh, so thankfully different. And yet...
He pushed the thought back sharply. But it came again. Like Vesa. So very like his darling sister Vesa.
The girl smiled up at him and reached out for him, making a small sound of pleasure deep in her throat.
Instinctively he moved back slightly, tensed, but he was betrayed. Slowly his penis filled with blood until, engorged, it stood out stiffly. And when she reached for it and took it he could do nothing but close his eyes, ashamed and yet grateful.
As he entered her he opened his eyes and looked at her again. "What's your name?"
She laughed softly, and for the briefest moment the movement of her body against his own slowed and became uncertain. "Don't you remember, Axel? I'm White Orchid. Your little flower." Then she laughed again, more raucously this time, her body pressing up against his, making him cry out with the pleasure of it. "And he said you were ya . . ."
"Shall I wake him?"
"No, Mother Chua. Let him sleep a little longer. The fight is not for another two hours yet. There's plenty of time. Did he enjoy himself?"
Mu Chua smiled but did not answer. Some things she would do for money. Others were against her code. Spying on her guests was one of them. She studied Ebert a moment, trying to establish what it was made him so different from the others who came here. Perhaps it was just the sheer rudeness of the man. His ready assumption that he could have anything, buy anything. She didn't like him, but then it wasn't her job to like all of her clients. As it was he had brought her something valuable—the two Hung Mao girls.
"Have you made your mind up yet?"
Ebert did not look at her. There was a faint smile on his lips. "I can choose any one?"
"That was our deal."
"Then I'll take the girl. Golden Heart."
Mu Chua looked down. It was as she had expected. "She's untrained," she said, knowing it was hopeless but trying to persuade him even so.
"I know. That's partly why I chose her. I could train her myself. To my own ways."
Mu Chua shuddered, wondering what those ways would be. For a moment she considered going back on the deal and returning the two Hung Mao girls, but she knew that it made no sense either to throw away such a certain attraction as the barbarian shen nu or to make an enemy of Hans Ebert.
"Are you certain she's not too young?"
Ebert merely laughed.
"Then I'll draw up the contracts. It will be as agreed. The two girls for the one. And this evening's entertainment free."
"As we agreed," said Ebert, smiling to himself.
Mu Chua studied him again, wondering what game he was playing with his fellow officer. She had seen the way he bullied and insulted him. Why, then, had he been so insistent that she drug him and send the Hung Moo girl to him? There seemed no love lost between the two men, so what was Ebert's design?
She bowed and smiled, for once feeling the hollowness of her smile, then turned and went to bring the contract. But she was thinking of Golden Heart's dream. Ebert was the tiger come out of the West, and last night he had mated with her. Insatiably, so Golden Heart had said: wildly, his passion barely short of violence. And though there was no chance of Golden Heart conceiving, Mu Chua could not help but think of the image in the dream—the image of the gray-white snake. In most cases it was an auspicious symbol—sign that the dreamer would bear a boy child. But the snake in the dream had been cold and dead.
She shuddered. The first part of the dream had proved so right, how could the second not come about in time? And then, what misery for Golden Heart. Eat your year cakes now, thought Mu Chua as she took the contract from the drawer in her room and turned to go back. Celebrate now beneath the rainbow-colored clouds, for soon Golden Heart will be broken. And I can do nothing. Nothing at all.