Sharon Shinn - Gateway

“I see you have not been educated in the art of conversation,” Xiang interrupted.

Daiyu was silent.

“Still, no one expects young girls to speak, and they won’t listen if you do,” the old woman continued. “They will look at your face, and your face is good.” Unexpectedly, Xiang put out her hand and used those red talons to lift Daiyu’s chin. “The skin is exquisite. The lips are too large, but the eyes are perfectly acceptable.”

This did not seem to require an answer either.

“I have no interest in adopting you,” were the next surprising words out of Xiang’s mouth. “Put that thought out of your mind this instant.”

“It was never my hope, Mistress.”

“But if you present yourself well in front of my friends, and if you please me, I will be generous. I will pour enough money into your hands to allow you to return to your wretched province and buy any husband you desire.”

Daiyu lifted her chin and Xiang’s hand fell away. “I didn’t know that men could be purchased, Mistress.”

Xiang’s laugh had little humor in it. “Everything can be purchased,” she said. “Not everything is worth the price. Men very rarely are.” She tilted her small head and pursed her lips, which accentuated all the wrinkles in her face. “I believe I will purchase you,” she added. “Do not disappoint me.”

Now Daiyu allowed the slightest bit of frost to come to her voice. “I am not in the habit of disappointing anyone,” she said.

Xiang smiled, a somewhat chilling expression. “Then you will be my most beloved niece.”

As Aurora had predicted, Xiang was unwilling to tolerate Daiyu’s unfashionable attire for an instant. The dressmaker was summoned before Daiyu was even shown to her room. The thin, fidgety cangbai woman promised she would have an assortment of acceptable outfits available by nightfall, and she would in- stantly begin work on formal clothing for social events. As soon as the woman bowed herself from the room, Xiang tilted her head again and surveyed Daiyu out of narrowed eyes.

“The hair is very plain,” she said. “And yet, simplicity is an affectation that is popular this year. We might do well to leave it.”

“I would rather not cut it, if you please,” Daiyu said, trying not to show alarm. How strange it would be to arrive back in St. Louis with a new hairstyle she could not remember getting!

“Stand up. Good. You are short enough to wear heels-or are you too clumsy to walk in them?”

“I manage all right if they’re not too high.”

“Unbutton your shirt. Show me your bosom.” When Daiyu did not comply, Xiang snorted. “Very well, show me however much of your skin you are comfortable displaying. Yes, you will be able to wear the new fashions. The necklines will look very good on you. I will lend you some of my jewels-I have just the necklace for you to wear at the Presentation Ball. Are your ears pierced?”

Daiyu pushed back her hair to show off her gold hoops. “Yes.”

“Good. You can wear my earrings as well. You will have to take off that ring, of course.”

Daiyu balled her hands into fists. “I won’t,” she said calmly.

At first Xiang was so surprised at being refused that she didn’t even look angry, and then her face darkened. “And why not?”

“Because it is my mother’s, and it is the only thing of value that she owns, and she gave it to me to tell me that I am the thing she values most of all,” Daiyu said. Even though Xiang will not respect your family, like all Han, she respects the notion of heritage, Aurorahadtoldher. Whenever you cannot explain your behavior, rationalize it through family custom. It will not please her, but she will accept it.“I will not take it off.”

“Very well,” Xiang snapped. “But you must wear it under your gloves at formal events.”

Daiyu nodded. “Mistress, I will.”

“Can you dance?” Xiang asked next. “Do you know how to behave at a dinner table? Do you know how to address a man of wealth?”

Daiyu took a deep breath. “I have little experience in any of these matters,” she said. “But I am willing to learn.”

“Yes, I see we have much work to accomplish before the ball,” Xiang said. “Let us waste no time beginning.”

If Daiyu had had anyone to talk to, she would have described the next three days as a crash course in charm school. It seemed like every minute was passed in some kind of instruction or beautification ritual. The house was filled with specialists imported to make Daiyu over into the perfect Han debutante. The dressmaker measured every dimension of her body; a stylist tried different combinations of hair and makeup and accessories. A dancing instructor brought in an entire classroom of students to allow Daiyu to practice the tiaowu in a simulated ballroom. All the practice with Kalen had paid off; Daiyu found it easier than she’d expected to execute the steps with an acceptable level of grace.

But she missed performing the dance with Kalen. She missed his smile of encouragement when she did well, his murmurs of explanation when she stumbled, his inventive antics every time she slapped the bracelet on his wrist. She had known him such a short time; how could his absence weigh so heavily on her heart?

Xiang would have been horrified to know how many of Daiyu’s thoughts were given over to a cangbai workingman-although, admittedly, it was hard to think of anyone else when Xiang was nearby. During those three days, the old woman lectured Daiyu endlessly on social etiquette, usually while they sat at a series of extraordinary meals. They ate four times a day, gorging themselves on lavish spreads-braided breads, spicy meats, fruits cut into fantastical patterns, vegetables so delicately fried they were only a kiss away from raw. Chocolate finished up every meal, accompanied by the local version of tea. If she hadn’t spent so much energy learning to dance, Daiyu was sure she would have gained ten pounds.

“When you are seated beside an older man, you do not speak to him until he has addressed you,” Xiang said late on that third day. “You may speak first to an older woman or a woman your own age, and it is expected that you be the one to greet a man who is your age or younger. It would be very rude of him to address you first.”

“What if I can’t tell his age?”

Xiang looked at her with narrow disapproval. “You should be able to,” was all she said.

At dinner parties, she should not eatanything until the host had had at least three bites. The guests in attendance would always number some multiple of nine. At the ball, she could not dance with anyone who had not been introduced to her by Xiang herself. She must refuse every invitation twice, accepting only the third time it was extended. She was to call herself Xiang’s niece but say very little about her supposed blood relations.

“If anyone presses you ford etails about your family, just say, ‘It is better that I not speak of my mother.’”

“And your sister’s husband-my father?”

Xiang waved her hand and made a dismissive sound. “Even better not to speak of him.”

“When will I get to meet the prime minister?” Daiyu asked. She had just been told that she could not speak to him at all except to answer his direct questions, so it seemed reasonable to ask.

“You will be presented to him at the ball, but you might meet him before then,” Xiang said in a considering voice. “I might take you to a breakfast the day after tomorrow. I would like to see how well you behave in such a setting among some of my friends.”

“I will do my best, Mistress. And the prime minister will be there?”

“Yes,” Xiang replied. “He is scheduled to attend.”