18 The Runaway Host

~CHONG HO~

The bustle of the port called Ho back to his senses. He ran far away from his house, to the wharves and the Jade Sea. The flow of the workers with their bundles made him slow down to a stroll, but he did not pay attention to the ships and the gulls, the sailors and the whores, and all the little dramas. He counted his steps, noted the directions and mentally added it all up to the ever-changing plan of the city he was drafting and redrafting from memory.

Today, it was not enough. Dew-on-a-petal agitated his memories, and they came like the tide up the Tumultuous River.

He had not been all that different thirteen years ago. The same lanky frame, the same shorn off hair, and the domineering nose that got plenty of flicks from his four older brothers. The Chongs, a reputable family of woodworkers, builders and joiners was paid to come all the way to Xichon. It was a week's journey from the Gorge of the Old Faces, their home, nothing particularly unusual in their trade, but Ho did not want to go. He was married for less than a year and as happy as he'd ever been, but he went, uncomplaining, as was his filial duty.

They were building a pagoda on a deserted lot on the outskirts of the city. The customer was a bit of a hermit, said his Overseer, and a rich eccentric. Everything needed to adhere to the plans. They were not to copy the designs and not to talk about the project to anyone. In return, they would be lavishly rewarded.

When the Overseer first took an interest in Ho, it disquieted him. The man looked like a barbarian (though he went under an innocent enough moniker of Finch) and Ho'd heard plenty about the nobility in Xichon and their corrupt ways. So, at the first opportunity, he told the Overseer that he was a married man with a baby on the way.

The Overseer inquired politely when the baby was due and congratulated him expansively on his good fortune. Ho felt guilty about judging a man by his looks and lowered his guard. The Overseer drilled him on how he went about calculating things and making orders and materials. Eventually, he came to enjoy explaining it, particularly since he was starting to get into arguments with his father. The Overseer always seemed on hand to listen in, and take Ho's side, politely, yet firmly.

The man also taught Ho to write everything down and to organize his thoughts. Together, they admired the schemes that came out of it, now clear as the noon's daylight. He felt like he had never known peace before filling the scrolls with numbers; it was magical.

Alas, it did not make sense to his father.

Ho's schemes disregarded making deals with those who knew his grandfather, those he owed favors... and so they fought.

Then came the news of the baby arriving too soon, and stillborn, and Mei's death.

Ho went to pieces. The Overseer did not ply him with drink or platitudes, like the others. Instead, he brought Ho to see the Benefactor. His family was aghast when he accepted the Benefactor's offer and left his father's trade.

They did not understand that he would have turned into a raving lunatic without the puzzles of the Benefactor's business to occupy his mind.

In turn, Ho was never free of shame for failing in his filial duty and being separated from his ancestors' humble shrines.

Even now, faced with but the shadow of those unhappy days, Chong Ho was slipping into madness. He fought, forcing himself to look around and return to his present. He made his way to the only place in the Evershining Empire where his thoughts were always orderly, his office at the wharves. There, he recorded all the measurements that he took during his mad-walking. It settled his mind enough for him to go back home, carrying the scroll like a talisman against the past.

Mistress Dew-on-a-petal saw him return, but only bowed politely from afar. The she-demon has the patience required for serious intrigues, political or mercantile, he sighed. It was not a bad trait to have in a future mother-in-law, but he did not return her bow and hid in his study. He worked late on updating his beloved map of Sutao with the new numbers, but his eyes wandered to the familiar scroll left on his table. Finally, he picked it up and scrutinized his bride's forged lineage, to make sure it would not attract unwanted attention from a bored bureaucrat.

It looked real enough, with all the proper seals. The calligraphy might have been too exquisite, but in a few places, the scribe faltered. Ho knew this calligrapher's work well enough to recognize his hand even without his mark, the 'finch', on the margins, so he knew the imperfections were deliberate. The Overseer had done it to give the impression of a less experienced, less pricey service.

According to the scroll, Mistress Tien Lyn was born to the citizen of the Evershining Empire, the Bei of the Khazagi people. This Rustam was 'inventively' given the family name 'Bei'. Tien Lyn's mother was the honored Mistress Dew-on-a-petal. He wondered if anyone bothered to ask his bride's opinion before taking away her Shen blood, her name, her lineage, and the chance to marry someone of her own station. Well, if nobody had, he would.

Ho left the study and ordered his manservant to inquire if the Mistress Tien Lyn wished to take tea with him in the courtyard. The Mistress Tien Lyn did so wish, the servant reported.

The lady herself dutifully appeared on his heels, trailed in turn by her two newly hired maids. She took charge of the servants to arrange the light bamboo table, the pillows, the dishes, et cetera and did so aptly, a credit to her upbringing, but he did not care. The servant was barely out of sight when Ho cut to the chase. "Are you happy with the prospect of marrying me, Mistress Tien Lyn?"

The silky semicircles of the eye-lashes twitched twice before her eyelids lifted up. He was being treated to a direct look. Her eyes were beautiful, but, as he'd expected, red-rimmed. Marvelous cosmetics whitened the tender area around the eyes, so she was trying to conceal her grief. The glance was guarded.

Mei, on the other hand, smiled no matter what. Her face was made for smiles, wide and round. She squinted in delight at piglets or flowers, all these small things that he had never noticed before he fell in love with her. And when she laughed, her two braids jiggled on her breast.

"I will succor you, Master Chong Ho," his new bride promised softly.

Ancestors, does she also know about Mei?! Does everyone know about Mei? He'd almost fled into Sutao's streets again but forced himself to remain seated. She was not steering the boat, and she seemed well-intentioned, not just well-mannered. It's not her fault that she is not Mei or that Mei is dead. Ancestors, she was but a child when Mei died!

"I welcome you to try, but I have asked you a different question. Are you happy with the arrangement, Tien Lyn?"

Tien Lyn looked at him for so long that it became rude. At least we have this in common, he sighed.

His sigh broke her freeze, "Master Chong Ho, the most powerful word when it comes to fate is 'maybe'."

He scoffed, but something about her non-answer put him at ease. It was not the words, her words were nonsense. It was the girl herself, and her sweet voice. She had a calming effect on him, though she was not like Mei. Mei made him laugh and forget everything, Tien Lyn made him focus.

He would have been content to sip tea and look at her in silence for much, much longer, but Dew-on-a-petal marched into the courtyard.

Ho got up, intercepted the woman and headed off any objections to being found in Tien Lyn's company. "Mistress Dew-on-a-petal, would you be kind enough to make all the necessary arrangements for the wedding?"

He knew without looking that Tien Lyn had fled the yard behind his back.

So be it, he thought irritably, so be it.

If Mistress Dew-on-a-petal was relieved by his sudden capitulation, she did not show it. Or, maybe it was not sudden to her. Ho gritted his teeth, then willed his jaw to relax enough to speak. "I will provide a list of my business associates. I will leave it to the Temple of Serene Joy to determine the auspicious date for the ceremony. But it must be arranged so my family can arrive from the Gorge-of-Old-Faces."

"Of course, Master Chong Ho," the woman replied with another damnable smile as if she dreamed of entertaining the families of journeymen.

Before the day was out, Ho hated Mistress Dew-on-a-petal's pretend sweetness with a passion that he had not felt in years. She pursued him relentlessly to make sure none of the things that he did not care one whit about displeased him.

It went from bad to worse.

Faeries started to appear on his property. They left flowers, exotic summery scents and lingering melodies in their wake. He confronted his future mother-in-law in his study. "Madam, we want the blessing from the Temple, but my family is old-fashioned. We worship our ancestors."

"Master Chong Ho, we are already in accord on the matter," Mistress Dew-on-a-petal replied with that accursed smile. "The Elder Judge of the Gorge will preside along with the Serene Mother Weynala."

He rubbed his temples. Ancestors, she'd even taken to calling his village 'Gorge', like those native to it. Next, he'd find her gossiping with his mother in the kitchens.

I am like the village fool from that fairy tale who only wanted an omelet, but instead unleashed the First Dragon into the world. A Dragon called Dew-on-a-petal... Nothing rattles this woman. Nothing!

Even an omen of bad luck did not stand a chance with her in charge. A death in the household preparing for a wedding was no trivial matter. Mistress Dew-on-a-petal did not bat an eyelash, despite it being her daughter's maid, so someone who'd touched the bride.

She quoted an obscure precedent from a Dynasty What's Its Name and ordered a proper purification ritual to be performed post-haste. And, of course, the warding-off prayers by the ubiquitous faeries. More flowers, more singing, more faeries than he had ever seen in one place, but no more bad luck.