Gateway (20 page)

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.

“We must visit all the fountains and sip from each one,” Xiang directed, pushing Daiyu subtly toward the one where a cranberry-colored concoction sprayed from a chrome nozzle into a gleaming black marble base. “They represent health, prosperity, luck, and long life.”

Daiyu was thirsty, so she was grateful for the chance to drink something, though they were only allowed to dip minuscule cups into each fountain and take tiny sips. The cranberry liquid, red for health, had a sharp and bitter taste, but left her mouth feeling refreshed. Prosperity was conferred by a syrupy green brew that was much too sweet for Daiyu’s liking. Long life was symbolized by rich flowing cocoa, and Daiyu noticed that many people had second and third helpings at this fountain, since the flavor was so delicious. But it was at the citrus-flavored fountain of lemon-colored water that Daiyu refilled her cup again and again. She felt like she was going to need all the luck this world could provide.

She and Xiang were still standing by the lemon fountain when the music changed from the drums-and-oboe duet to something a little livelier.
This
was more like what Daiyu would consider dance music. At the same time, the whole mass of people pressed toward the outer walls to leave the central portion of the room open. Quickly enough, couples began streaming back onto the floor and arranging themselves into the pattern of the
tiaowu
. Daiyu had a brief, dizzying moment remembering the first time she had tried out those steps in the small house that Aurora and Ombri owned. Her palms had been pressed to Kalen’s, and as always, that light contact had reassured her, made her feel protected and secure. She could do anything if Kalen was there to help her through. . . .

She could
not
think about Kalen—not here, not tonight. She stared fiercely out onto the dance floor, forcing herself to see what was in front of her and not what her wistful heart insisted on remembering.

Xiang was still giving instructions, so Daiyu concentrated on listening to her voice. “Remember, when Quan asks you to dance, you must refuse twice. You only say yes the third time,” Xiang said.

“I remember, Aunt,” Daiyu replied.

She had not seen Quan within this whole crush of people, but apparently he had been tracking them, for Xiang had scarcely finished speaking when he materialized at her elbow. Daiyu was glad to see him; his presence would help her keep thoughts of Kalen at bay.

“Mistress Xiang, may I be permitted to partner your niece in a dance?” he asked.

“It is acceptable to me, but you must ask her,” Xiang replied.

Quan turned to Daiyu. “You are the most beautiful girl in the room. Please, Daiyu, will you dance with me?”

Daiyu kept her eyes lowered as she said, “Oh, young master Quan, surely there are other girls here who are more deserving of such an honor.”

“It is I who would be honored if you considered me deserving of your time. Will you dance with me?”

“I am certain I would shame you with my clumsiness.”

“Iamcertain youwill humblemewithyour grace.” Heheld his hand out. “Will you dance with me?”

She laid her gloved palm on his arm. “Thank you for extending me the kindness of your attention. Yes, I will.”

By the end of the dance, Daiyu was completely in control of herself again, completely back in the present moment. She had to be, to make it through the
tiaowu
without a mistake. It was very formalized; every step was precisely calculated. One thing she had learned from the rehearsals at Xiang’s was that the music rarely changed, and no dance had a beginning or an end. Couples merely slipped into and out of the pattern as they wished, although it was expected that they would stay on the dance floor about twenty minutes before removing to the sidelines again. Daiyu found that she had been trained so well that the steps came to her almost naturally now. Her only real worry was falling off the ridiculously high shoes.

“Are you entirely recovered from your adventures yesterday?” Quan asked her when the movement of the dance brought them face-to-face.

For a moment, her composure slipped. She had not entirely recovered from her fear for Kalen, but that was not a part of the adventure she could discuss with Quan. She bowed her head and felt some of her hair ribbons brush against her cheeks. “I am, thanks to your kind concern.”

“And was your aunt angry with you when you returned to her house?”

Daiyu’s left hand hovered near her pocket. She focused on imagining how, if Quan were Chenglei, she would whip out the bracelet and snap it on his wrist. “On the contrary, she was delighted to know that I had spent my day in your company. She thinks you are a handsome and interesting young man.”

“Only Xiang thinks that?” he said in a teasing voice.

She smiled. “I think you are a kind young man, which is better than
interesting
any day.”

“And are you enjoying the Presentation Ball?”

“It is a little overwhelming,” she confessed. “I am afraid I will make a mistake or behave foolishly, and everyone will stare.”
Or I will cause your prime minister to disappear, and everyone will scream.

“I think you are behaving charmingly, and if anyone stares, it is because you are so lovely.”

“Thank you, Quan,” she said. “You
are
a kind man.”

They stayed on the dance floor for only the proper twenty minutes before Quan returned her to Xiang. The old woman already had another suitor lined up, a young man whom Daiyu vaguely remembered seeing at Mei’s breakfast. When he asked Daiyu to be his partner, she refused twice before gracefully accepting, though she really wanted to accept him on his very first offer. She wanted to postpone for as long as possible her inevitable dance with the prime minister.

She was terrified to dance with Chenglei. What if she fumbled, what if she failed?

What if she succeeded?

Would she create such an uproar that she would instantly have to use her own talisman to return to her home iteration, or would she be able to stay in Shenglang long enough to say hergood-byes?

Surely, surely, she would have at least one more chance to see Kalen. She made a promise to herself: Even if she was discovered, even if she was in danger, she would not unwrap and seize her piece of quartz. Not in this ballroom, not tonight. She would not return to Earth before she had spent one final hour with Kalen. . . .

But even once she had made that decision, she dreaded the moment the prime minister took her hand.

Covertly, while she completed this dance with her current young man and then a second dance with Quan, she observed Chenglei. He was almost always on the floor, paired with one of the young debutantes, though he didn’t have time to give each partner a full twenty minutes of his attention. The girls always had their eyes chastely cast down, but Daiyu could usually see them trying to hide their smiles. The prime minister was clearly lavishing on them the same warmth that Daiyu had found so appealing. Chenglei seemed to be having a marvelous time. His handsome face was lit with a wide smile; his dark eyes were bright with approval of everything he saw. He might be a terrible leader and a terrible man, but he had the supreme gift of charm.

She lost track of Chenglei during her third dance with Quan. Quan requested a fourth dance, as he had to—and she refused, as she had to. He asked, “If I cannot dance with you, is there something else I can do to show my admiration?”

“I am very thirsty,” Daiyu replied.

“Then I will fetch you something to drink from one of the fountains,” he replied at once. “Which flavor do you prefer?”

“The flavor of luck,” she said.

“I will instantly return,” he said, and departed.

Smiling, Daiyu turned back to her aunt and found Chenglei at Xiang’s side. Her heart bounded in her chest; all the air was sucked from her lungs.