Free Dark of the Sun by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Page A

happening in China,” she said a bit sadly. “So you are reduced to being a merchant.”
    “Among other things,” he agreed, moving back to allow her to sit up and gather her jade-green sen-lai around her shoulders.
    “It is always hard when one ruler is cast out in favor of another,” she said. “I have entertained men from Chang’an who told me that they had lost all now that there will be a Wen Emperor in their city.”
    “Have you encountered many of them, these unfortunate men from Chang’an?” Zangi-Ragozh asked, wondering what else they had imparted.
    “Five,” she said. “One was very bitter, the others were more angry.” She winced at the memory. “Shan had to send two of his boys in to stop them.”
    Zangi-Ragozh was silent, then said, “I am sorry to hear that you had to suffer on their account.”
    She shrugged. “It is the way of men.”
    “It may be, but it does not excuse them,” he said.
    She put her hand on his. “You aren’t like most men. You told me, and it is true.”
    Zangi-Ragozh looked down at her hand and knew that the gesture was more revealing than she had intended. “You have been most kind to me, Jo-Hsu.”
    “If I am, it is because of you,” she said, as if something in his words had struck an injury; she withdrew her hand.
    “I doubt that,” said Zangi-Ragozh as he touched her cheek. “If you had no kindness within you, not I, nor anyone else, could find it.”
    She tugged her sen-lai closed and stared into the middle distance. “If it satisfies you to think so, then I will not stop you.”
    He moved away from her, thinking that if there was any tea left, it would be cold. “Ah, Jo-Hsu, do not despair.”
    “It’s not that,” she said bluntly. “You imagine too much, foreigner.”
    Rather than argue the point, he asked, “Shall I send for more tea? Or would you like rice cakes and plum wine?”
    She scowled in the direction of the hearth. “I would like another log or two on the fire.”
    He rose at once to attend to her request, saying as he did, “Would you like me to summon Weh-Bin?”
    “Why are you being so polite? You have what you wanted. You need not linger.” She pressed her lips together as if to stop saying worse things.
    “If you would rather I leave, I will,” he said, straightening up from tending to the fire. But—”
    “—you have paid for the night. So you are entitled to remain. You may ask me to dance again, if you like.” She stood and adjusted her sen-lai, three fingers brushing the little nicks on her neck. She frowned slightly but said nothing.
    Zangi-Ragozh had seen reactions like Jo-Hsu’s before, and so he answered her calmly, “I want to make no demands upon you, Jo-Hsu. If you want to dance, then I will enjoy watching you. If you would like to eat, by all means send for food. If you want to sleep, then go ahead. But I tell you now that you will not incite me to anger.”
    “Nothing passed between us,” she said, her hand going to her neck as if to defend herself. “You have no hold on me.”
    He took another two gold coins from the string of gold cash in his sleeve. “This is yours; do with it as you wish.”
    “So generous,” she said spitefully.
    He studied her. “Jo-Hsu,” he said at last. “Tell me what I have done to offend you?”
    The question took her aback, and she answered without thinking, “You make me want things I know I cannot have again.”
    Zangi-Ragozh met her gaze steadily. “If that is so, I apologize most sincerely.”
    Her face crumpled as she fought back tears. “Don’t.” She flung the word at him as an accusation, then turned away from him. “And you pay me better than anyone.”
    This time there was a trace of ironic amusement in his response. “I hope I will not further offend you by not apologizing for that?”
    “I’d like sweet rice-buns and some plum wine,” she said by way of an answer.
    “Certainly,” said Zangi-Ragozh, clapping his hands to summon a servant. t.
    “How