Sharon Shinn - Gateway

For their ride to the prime minister’s palace, Xiang’s car had been closed up. A shell of glass and a metal roof replaced the usual open-air awning, keeping the passengers safe from any breezes but intensifying the smells of perfume, cosmetics, starch, and hair oils. It was nearly eight in the evening,but here in the heart of summer, night had not yet fallen, and the temperature inside the closed vehicle was stifling.

Daiyu made no comment. She merely sat on the seat across from Xiang, hands folded in her lap, eyes cast down. Although she did not look up to make sure, she was certain that Xiang would approve her meek demeanor.

She was less certain that Xiang would approve of her plan to hurl Chenglei to another dimension.

The outing with Kalen had decided her. Feng’s words had been convincing; the tales of rescinded supplies and starving families had touched Daiyu’s heart. Chenglei could not be left here to wreak incalculable damage. He must be sent home where he could be contained by people who knew how to punish evil.

All Daiyu needed was one dance…

When the driver turned onto a wide, rolling boulevard that seemed to stretch north and south, Daiyu started paying attention to their route. Soon the road was clogged with hundreds of cars, all configured in the formal “closed” style of Xiang’s. Daiyu peered through the glass to try to see the occupants of the other vehicles, catching only a glimpse of silk here, a flash of jewels there.

“Don’t be rude,” Xiang said.

Daiyu subsided back onto her seat. “Are they all going to the ball?”

“If they are people of any substance, yes.”

Finally, their car pulled up in a graceful, curved driveway in front of a grand house. Daiyu let a servant help her down while she stared up at the building, making no attempt to hide her curiosity. It was as big as the convention center in downtown St. Louis, but more deliberately elegant, a five-story structure of white stone, black marble, and painted red accents. The roofline quirked up at all corners in that familiar pagoda-style architecture; she thought there was a cupola perched on the very top of the building. She followed Xiang past two fountains alive with colorful fish, past perfectly kept stands of topiary, and into a huge hallway where a crowd had already assembled. Daiyu tried to keep her eyes modestly lowered, but she could not help sweeping her gaze from side to side, trying to get a sense of the size of the room, the art, the décor. She received mostly an impression of high walls, red velvet curtains, and gold statuary. The carpet beneath her feet showed a pattern of dragons interspersed with suns and stars.

Slowly the throng emptied into an even grander room with a ceiling so far above them it must have risen through all five stories to crowd against that cupola on the roof. Daiyu risked one quick glance up and then had to forcibly restrain herself from staring at the intricate painting on the ceiling. The walls showed an alternating pattern of red velvet curtains and panels of woodwork painted in impossibly detailed scenes. The floor featured inlaid marble patterns that mimicked the dragon-and-star motif of the outer room.

Suddenly Daiyu straightened and looked around again, her eyes too wide for maidenly modesty. Could it be-? They had seemed to travel west and north to arrive there; she was sure the river was several miles due east if she stepped out the front door and kept walking. The prime minister’s house stood on the same site as the Fox Theatre, an unparalleled spot of opulence and beauty.

It made Daiyu feel a little less nervous to be someplace that reminded her of home.

Nothing else about the evening felt remotely familiar.

Despite all of Xiang’s instruction beforehand, Daiyu did not understand the protocols that governed the evening. By rules mysterious to her, everyone else seemed to know where in the room to stand, when to sit, whether or not to speak. If there wasfood,Daiyuneversawit.Therewasmusic,butitwasodd andnot,toherear,particularlymelodic-somepercussivebeats overlaid with a wandering woodwind. Ombri’s exercises on his keyboard had been more tuneful than this. Daiyu just stood close to Xiang, saying nothing and moving not a step unless Xiang indicated that she should. It was clear this was going to be a long night.

When a gong sounded repeatedly, Xiang linked her arm with Daiyu’s and led her to a short line that was forming in the middle of the room. A quick scan led Daiyu to believe that all the young women and their mothers-or aunts-were queuing up to be presented formally to the prime minister. Maybe she wouldn’t have to wait till the dance after all. Maybe she could offer him a little something extra during her presentation…

But Xiang had hold of her left arm, and unless that changed soon, it would be difficult to slip the bracelet from her pocket. Not only that, the presentations were clearly the focal point of the evening, and everyone standing on the sidelines was closely watching each introduction. If Daiyu magically made Chenglei disappear right now, everyone in Shenglang would see it happen.

She had time to consider her options; the line moved slowly. But when it was her turn to be introduced, her choices evaporated. Xiang had clasped Daiyu’s left hand in both of hers, and with a flourish, she transferred that hand to Chenglei. He pressed it between both of his and inclined his head.

“Prime Minister, may I present to you my niece, Daiyu, my sister’s daughter,” Xiang said, her voice a little louder than it needed to be so that everyone nearby could hear the next boastful sentence. “Of course, you have met her already.”

Chenglei smiled down at Daiyu with every evidence of pleasure. She had forgotten how very handsome he was; she had forgotten how appealing his smile could be. He did not release her hand, and she could feel the warmth of his palms even through her glove. “I have met her indeed, and I enjoyed our conversation very much,” he said. “Xiang, I compliment you on your good taste in sponsoring such a niece. She is very pretty, and I discern some intelligence in the brilliance of her eyes.”

“Thank you, Prime Minister,” Xiang said.

“As I recall, Daiyu, when we last met you had just arrived in Shenglang,” he said. “Tell me, have you had an opportunity to see more of our city?”

“Indeed I have, Prime Minister,” she said, keeping her voice soft and shy. “I remembered that you said the aviary was your favorite place, and I have been there three times.”

“And did you enjoy it?”

“Very much! The birds were breathtaking and the spirit of the place was peaceful.”

“I am gratified to learn that an old man like me can still advise a young woman on activities she will find pleasing.”

“You are hardly old, Prime Minister,” Xiang said.

“It is when I am surrounded by such youth and beauty that I most feel my age!” he replied with a certain rueful charm.

Xiang smiled. “It is when I am surrounded by youth that I most revel in my intelligence,” she said slyly.

Chenglei laughed and finally dropped Daiyu’s hand. She brushed at the pocket of her skirt, but it was clear she would have no chance to pull out the bracelet; this interview was over. Chenglei said, “Xiang, your intelligence is never for a moment in doubt.”

She gave him a regal nod. “Prime Minister.” And then she took hold of Daiyu’s arm and pulled her away, and the next young woman stepped forward with her mother.

Daiyu would have to wait until the tiaowu.

Another hour went by before the dancing began. After Chenglei made it through the presentation line, there was a little excitement in the corners of the room: Four fountains sprang to life, bubbling with colorful liquids. The guests exclaimed aloud in pleasure and began making their way to one corner or another.