Sharon Shinn - Gateway

Two men stood on the dais now, exchanging elaborate insults couched in flowery, formal language. Every seat on the bottom story was filled, about half by men, half by women, everyone Han. The balconies were much emptier, but clusters of visitors sat in the stiff, straight chairs or leaned over the railings to get a better look at the action. Everyone in the first balcony also was Han and looked to be financially comfortable, but there was a varied assemblage here where Daiyu and Quan had come to rest.

“Are you sure we belong up here?” she asked him in a whisper as they went to lean on the balustrade.

He gave her a careless grin. “Too many people I know one level down. Up here, I don’t have to talk to anyone.”

She grinned back, feeling a moment of genuine liking for him. But her attention was instantly caught by the drama below, as the two feuding speakers ended their presentation, bowed to the audience, and stepped down from opposite sides of the dais. In the silence that followed, it was easy to hear one man’s footsteps as he approached the stage, climbed the stairs, and then stood for a moment, merely scanning the audience. Daiyu had the ridiculous thought that he took the time to look at each individual council member, offering a swift moment of recognition; certainly it seemed as if he met her eyes when his gaze swept over both upper stories.

After a silence that grew even more still as he waited, Chenglei finally began speaking. “My friends, it is good to be with you all today,” he said, and again Daiyu was instantly captivated by the intimate warmth of his voice. It was as if he was addressing each of them separately, telling each of them exactly what they wanted to hear. “I have listened to the arguments of these fine men and women, and I have been struck by their words. I have been impressed by their research, and I have been moved by their passion. Clearly everyone here in this room today wants to do what is right and is willing to sacrifice tirelessly to bring about the best result. I salute you all.”

He paused, and once more he sent his gaze around the room. His eyes briefly touched Daiyu and moved on. “We have a hard task before us. People in the northwest territories are dying of zaogao fever. For those of us healthy in Shenglang, what is our responsibility? Let me tell you a story.”

Again, he paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. Daiyu leaned forward, impatient to hear more. She imagined everyone in the whole auditorium echoing her movement. Certainly, beside her, Quan did the same.

“As you know, there are prohibitions against people with zaogao fever traveling from their homes to seek aid. Many people-including some of you in this council-have railed against this seemingly inhumane quarantine. You are to be honored for your open hearts and the kindness of your intentions. Some of you perhaps know others with similarly kind intentions living in the town of Gangshi on the western coast. Gangshi decided to make itself a haven for those poor diseased souls. Its residents opened their city. They opened their gates. They opened their hearts.

“Today we just got word-the entire city of Gangshi is infected. Every adult, every child, Han, cangbai or heiren . The deaths already have been staggering, but some remain alive-in order, perhaps that their suffering may be sustained. In order that they may look upon themselves, and their decisions, with horror.

“My friends, do you believe every citizen of Gangshi welcomed the sick and the dying? Do you believe that every young mother gazed down at her sleeping son and decided, ‘Yes, this is what I will do. I will risk the lives of those I love most for a principle, for a gesture’? Don’t you believe that some of the residents voted to hold the quarantine? Do those people deserve to die alongside the good-hearted rebels who invited disaster to cross the line? No-but they are dying anyway.

“Fellow councilors, citizens of Shenglang, my friends. We are rushing aid to every part of the northwest territories. We have funded philanthropic doctors and eager scientists who have set up outposts in these bitter lands, fighting the battle with death, sifting through science for a cure to zaogao fever. We are not leaving our comrades, our siblings, our fellow creatures alone to suffer and die. But it is madness to even think of lifting them from their diseased beds and carrying them into our own houses to offer them succor and shelter here. It is suicidal-no! it is genocidal-to allow them to break quarantine. We suffer to see them suffer-but if we share their lives, we share their deaths. The quarantine must stand until we have found a cure. Or Shenglang will become like Gangshi, a town of walking dead.”

His easy, hypnotic voice had grown sterner and more powerful as he spoke, and his final words were delivered in a ringing tone. The minute the last word sounded, all the listeners were on their feet. The auditorium shook with applause and roars of approval. Even the cangbai man in the upper balcony was chanting out his agreement; even the old heiren woman dressed in ragged clothing was clapping her hands.

Even Daiyu was nodding. Perhaps it was what he said, perhaps it was the way he said it, but everything Chenglei said made sense. She was sure she should be picking apar this speech, finding the error of logic, the vital flaw, but at the moment, she couldn’t think clearly. At that moment, she believed Chenglei.

Astonishingly, Xiang had no plans for Daiyu the following day. No appointments with dressmakers or deportment specialists, no accidental meetings with Mei or her son.

“May I go to the aviary, then?” Daiyu asked over their second meal of the day. She posed the question casually, but, under the table, her hands were clasped together so tightly they hurt. She hadn’t seen Kalen in days, and she missed him with a pain that was almost physical. She didn’t know if she would be able to maintain her meek façade if Xiang refused her now.

But she didn’t. “I suppose you may. The driver will take you.”

“Thank you, Aunt.”

There had been no time to tell Kalen that she would be coming, and she tried not to think about the possibility that he might not be working in the bird house that afternoon. But she had scarcely taken ten steps past the black grillwork gate before he came bounding up to her, a bucket in his hand sloshing water over the sides as he ran.

“Daiyu! Is something wrong?”

She was so happy to see him that she almost threw her arms around him, but she knew better than to do anything so foolish. “No. Yes. I mean, nothing has happened, it’s just that I’m so confused . And I missed you.”

He set down his bucket and led her deep into the aviary. They stepped past bushes covered with twittering scarlet birds, past shallow reflecting pools, past the giant trees and the hanging vines all decorated with patches of feathered red. She could hear the muted rumble before they came across the artificial waterfall situated at the heart of the aviary, a cheery tumble of water charging down a stone face about two stories high and feeding into a bubbling pool.

“Back here,” Kalen said, and flattened himself against the surface of the stone to edge behind the sheet of water. He disappeared.

Daiyu held her breath and, fully expecting to get drenched, followedhim.

Instantly she found herself in a shallow and surreally lit alcove curtained by the rushing water. There was a damp space about three feet wide between the stone wall and the water itself.

“Kalen! What a wonderful place!” Daiyu exclaimed.

He had pulled off his shirt and was spreading it on the ground. His bare chest and arms were wiry, muscled with years of labor, but he was far too thin for someone of his height. “Here. You can sit on that,” he said, settling on the ground so she would have all of the fabric for herself. He had to pull his legs up tightly to make sure his feet weren’t dangling in the water.