He found himself waiting. She said, "Well, for one thing, that means the gift is about them, not you."
He nodded, then remembered she couldn't see him.
"Go to sleep," he said again, a bit abruptly.
He heard her laugh, a richness in the dark.
He pictured her as he'd first seen her, hair down her back in the morning courtyard, just risen from her bed. Pushed that image away. There would be women and music in Chenyao, he thought. Five days from now.
Perhaps four? If they went quickly?
He lay down again on the hard pillow.
The door opened.
Tai sat up, much more abruptly than the first time. He gathered the bed linens to cover his nakedness, though it was dark in the room. No light came in with her from the corridor. He sensed rather than saw her bowing. That was proper, nothing else about this was.
"You should bar your door," she said quietly.
Her voice seemed to have altered, or was that his imagination?
"I'm out of the habit." He cleared his throat. "What is this? A guard's sweep of the chamber? Am I to expect it every night?"
She didn't laugh. "No. I... have something to tell you."
"We were talking."
"This is private."
"You think someone is listening? Here? In the middle of the night?"
"I don't know. The army does use spies. You need not fear for your virtue, Master Shen." A hint of asperity, tartness returning.
"You don't fear for yours?"
"I'm the one with a blade."
He knew what bawdy jokes would have been made in the North District as an immediate response to that. He could almost hear Yan's voice. He kept silent, waiting. He was aroused, distracted by that.
She said, softly, "You haven't asked who paid me to follow the assassin."
Suddenly he wasn't distracted any more.
"Kanlins don't tell who pays them."
"We will if instructed when hired. You know that."
He didn't, actually. He hadn't reached that level in twenty months with them. He cleared his throat again. He heard her move nearer the bed, a shape against darkness, the sound of her breathing and a scent in the room now that she was closer. He wondered if her hair was down. He wished there were a candle, then decided it was better that there wasn't.
She said, "I was to catch up to the two of them and kill her, then bring your friend to you. I followed their path to your home. We didn't know where you were, or I'd have come directly on the imperial road and waited for them here."
"You went to my father's house?"
"Yes, but I was too many days behind."
Tai heard the words falling in the black, like drops of water from broad leaves after rain. He felt a very odd tingling at his fingertips, imagined he heard a different sound: a far-off temple bell among pines.
He said slowly, "No one in Xinan knew where I was. Who told you?"
"Your mother, and your younger brother."
"Not Liu?"
"He wasn't there," she said.
The bell seemed to have become a clear sound in his head; he wondered if she could hear it. A childish thought.
"I'm sorry," the woman said.
He thought of his older brother. It was time to begin doing that.
"It can't be Liu," he said, a little desperately. "If he was behind this, he knew where I'd gone. He could have had the assassin and Yan go straight to Kuala Nor."
"Not if he didn't want it known he was behind this." She'd had more time to sort this through, he realized. "And in any case..." She hesitated.
"Yes?" His voice really did sound strange now.
"I am to tell you that it isn't certain your brother hired the assassin. He may have only given information, others acting upon it."
I am to tell you.
"Very well. Who hired you, then? I am asking. Who told you all of this?"
And so, speaking formally now, almost invisible in the room, a voice in blackness, she said, "I was instructed to convey to you the respect and the humble greetings of the newest concubine in the household of the illustrious Wen Zhou, first minister of Kitai."
He closed his eyes. Spring Rain.
It had happened. She had thought it might. She had talked to him about it. If Zhou offered the demanded price to her owner, whatever it was, Rain would have had essentially no choice. A courtesan could refuse to be bought by someone privately, but her life in the North District would be ruined if she cost an owner that much money, and this was the first minister.
The sum offered, Tai was quite certain, would have been more than Rain could have earned from years of nights spent playing music for or slipping upstairs with candidates for the examinations.
Or slipping towards loving them.
He was breathing carefully. It still didn't make sense. Neither his brother nor the first minister had had any reason to want—let alone need—Tai dead. He didn't matter enough. You could dislike a man, a brother, see him as a rival—in various ways—but murder was extreme, and a risk.
There had to be something more.
"There is more," she said.
He waited. He saw only an outline, the shape of her as she bowed again.
"Your brother is in Xinan. Has been since autumn."
Tai shook his head, as if to clear it.
"He can't be. Our mourning isn't over yet."
Liu was a civil servant at court, high-ranking, but he would still be whipped with the heavy rod and exiled from the capital if anyone reported him for breaching ancestor worship, and his rivals would do that.
"For army officers mourning is only ninety days. You know it."
"My brother isn't..."
Tai stopped. He drew a breath.
Was all of this his own fault? Going away for two years, sending no word back, receiving no tidings. Concentrating on mourning and solitude and private action shaped to his father's long grief.
Or perhaps he'd really been concentrating on avoiding a too-complex world in Xinan, of court, and of men and women, dust and noise, where he hadn't been ready to decide what he was or would be.
Autumn? She'd said autumn. What had happened in the fall? He had just been told today that...
There it was. It fit. Slid into place like the rhyme in a couplet.
"He's advising Wen Zhou," he said flatly. "He's with the first minister."
He could see her only as a form in the dark. "Yes. Your brother is his principal adviser. First Minister Wen appointed Shen Liu as a commander of one thousand in the Flying Dragon Army in Xinan."
Symbolic rank, symbolic soldiers. An honorary palace guard, sons of aristocrats or senior mandarins, or their cousins. On display, gorgeously dressed, at parades and polo matches, ceremonies and festivals, famously inept in real combat. But as a way to shorten mourning with military rank, to bring a man you wanted to the capital...
"I'm sorry," she said again.
Tai realized he'd been silent a long time.
He shook his head. He said, "It is a great honour for our family. I am still not worth killing. Wen Zhou has power, and Spring Rain is his now. My brother has his position with him, and his rank, whatever it is. There's nothing I could do—or would do—about any of this. There is another piece here. There has to be. Do you... did Rain know anything more?"
Carefully, she said, "Lady Lin Chang said you would ask me that. I was to tell you that she agrees, but did not know what this might be when she learned of the plot to have you killed, and sent for a Kanlin."
Lin Chang?
She wouldn't have a North District name any more. Not as a concubine in the city mansion of the first minister of the empire. You weren't called Spring Rain there. He wondered how many women there were. What her life was like.
She'd taken a tremendous risk for him. Hiring her own Kanlin: he had no idea how she'd done it. It wouldn't be difficult for them to figure out who might have sent this woman after the other if...