Chapter Ten
THE DAY had been stolen from him. Xian sat now, at his place beside the Lady Tian, at the table in the marquess’s private banquet chamber.
His yumu wood chair was spectacular in appearance, with its yoke back, carved splat and fretwork motifs, but the rattan seat was already making his backside ache, and they had been seated for less than half an hour.
He’d been kept busy by the marchioness; overseeing the floral arrangements for the banquet, ensuring the right lanterns were brought from storage and hung over the table for the occasion, polishing the table to her exacting standards, and instigating many changes to the paintings that decorated the room, as well as two of the dividers with their gloriously painted mountain scenes, before she was satisfied with the banqueting chamber’s decor.
The cold day had become stifling for Xian, with so much activity, and he was grateful to arrive at the banquet and find that the panels of the room had been opened on the garden side, so that diners had a view of the small courtyard, enclosed by a stark white wall.
Near the pavilion said to be a replica of the one gracing the emperor’s favourite garden — and set at the foot of one of the towering rockeries — was a pond.
It was half the size of Mercy’s, and filled with goldfish; not half as impressive as the much larger golden carp.
Xian had to look right past one of Manhao’s envoy, the plain-faced magistrate who’d said only two words the entire visit, but whose scrutinising gaze made Xian horribly self-conscious as he negotiated the trials of eating a meal whilst wearing a veil.
With every lift of the silk, favouring the right side so the damaged left remained covered, Xian felt the eyes of all in the envoy upon him. It did not make for pleasant eating.
Declining another serve of sea cucumber, Xian stared out at the pond as the intimate dining party was regaled by Marquess Tian about the new eagle he had brought from Annam.
Xian did not involve himself in the conversation, even if he’d wished to; he’d have received a swift kick from the Lady Tian and a customary glare from the marchioness.
But Lady Tian supported her father most enthusiastically, her hair ornaments jingling as she leaned forward.
Her hair had been oiled and shaped into an enormous bow, giving her a height she’d normally lack, and so heavily adorned with ornaments of jade and tortoiseshell and wood she must have felt the weight in her neck.
‘The most beautiful bird, in all of Yunnan, likely all of the Middle Kingdom.’
Official Park nodded, uttering approving noises.
‘Mandarin Feng is a wondrous collector, and we have many unusual creatures brought to us by foreign travellers looking for his favour.’ Captain Duan chuckled at that, a sinister sound.
‘My master has two fine eagles, a mating pair. He works to breed the finest specimens, and one day, he shall gift his greatest bird to the Daoguang Emperor himself.’ He paused there, letting the skill and prestige of the Mandarin impress itself upon everyone present.
‘Now that we are united in our goals for Yunnan, perhaps he might send one of the offspring to Kunming to join with your bird, your grace?’
The marquess, either choosing to ignore the subtle play of superiority, or not noticing it at all, as Xian suspected, grabbed his cup, demanding they toast the notion with more serves of huangjiu.
The conversation flowed, as did the rice wine, which Xian also declined. He’d meant it when he’d told Song Lim he rarely drank. Even now, it still surprised him that the shoemaker had managed to convince him to partake.
Xian frowned beneath his dark blue veil; the same shade as his ruqun. The gown, with its white cuffs and collar, honoured the ocean that brought foreign trade to Manhao.
His mind had hardly left the slipper in the pond, worrying that his carelessness had ruined it.
But he contented himself with imagining Mercy lifting it with her nose, raising it from the depths, perhaps even setting it upon one of the rocky ledges on the interior of the pond wall.
She was talented enough. For once, Xian was grateful he’d be dismissed from the dining table long before anyone else considered leaving.
Marchioness Shen had instructed him to oversee the fireboxes for the kangs in each of the rooms the envoy occupied.
He’d be back at Mercy’s pond before long.
Captain Duan watched him as he gorged another serving of roasted suckling pig, his thick lips shiny with the oils.
He sucked at his teeth noisily, then tilted his head to speak with the Manhao secretary, who seemed to only ever converse with other members of the envoy.
The men shared an unpleasant smile as they both considered Xian, the secretary nodding at whatever it was the captain said.
The gong rang out, announcing another course.
Each attendant presented their covered platter to the marquess first, whose chair sat on a low platform, putting him above his family and his small gathering of guests.
Marquess Tian inhaled deeply over each dish, barely avoiding getting one of the long gold chains he wore from dipping into the various sauces and soups.
He declared each more wondrous than the last, signalling his approval that the platters and bowls be presented to his guests.
With the business of the day preventing any stops for a meal, hunger pangs struck Xian hard as rich aromas filled the air. Though most dishes were still covered, Xian could guess at a good many of them.
There was roast chicken certainly, some braised pork likely and chop suey, which was the Lady Tian’s favourite dish.
But there was also the more pungent scent of the sea.
He’d guess at a seaweed soup, and eel, perhaps some crab?
The marchioness did not enjoy fish on account of having nearly succumbed to a fouled portion many years ago, so it was never served.
Something Xian was grateful for, with carp being the most common fish used in Kunming kitchens.
Xian shifted in his chair, trying to ease an ache in his thigh from a day working, and an evening lying upon the firm floor of the shrine. His thoughts were drifting once more to the time spent in that shrine with Song Lim when the marchioness lifted her glass.
‘Hold the service,’ she directed the attendants, who’d been reaching to uncover the latest courses.
‘Before we continue this feast, I’d like to speak.
’ She waited for no-one’s approval. ‘It has been a most fortuitous meeting of our two great cities.’ She bowed her head towards Official Park, who did the same in kind.
‘Our trade agreement shall fortify us both, and see us grow in strength and good fortune. May the great Jade Emperor and Xiwangmu shine down upon our union, and may the Son of Heaven’s own child, the Prince Xian please Mandarin Feng most fully.
Take our beloved ward, as a token of Kunming’s commitment to Manhao.
Care for him, as we do, and let him bring you great pleasure with his god-given gift.
’ Xian’s chest tightened, knowing all eyes in the room were upon him; none more sharply than those of the marchioness and the captain.
Everyone raised their cups, even Xian, though he barely kept the tremble from his hands.
‘Eat now,’ the marchioness said. ‘Feast upon the finest offerings of Kunming. May you begin your travels with your hunger well sated and all your thirsts quenched.’
The marquess, never one to shy away from a chance to drink deeply, raised his cup, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. ‘To the Daoguang Emperor, Son of Heaven.’
The entire gathering cheered his Imperial Majesty, and the attendants lifted the lids on the platters.
Those on the table before Xian were revealed to be as he had guessed — pork and chicken — but several others he had not.
There was a plate of cooked chestnuts, some sea cucumber with black fungus, stewed vegetables and sliced tofu, and there, closest to the marquess, with the marchioness at his side, an oval silver dish.
Xian swallowed at the unfamiliar sight.
The plate held a steamed carp, the fish resting upon chives and carrot, its body stripped of skin but with its head and tail fins intact.
The cooking process had drained its fins to a deep grey; its flesh turned snow white.
Scallions enhanced the rich black sauce that had been drizzled in a thin line down the length of the fish’s body.
‘Oh wonderful,’ Lady Tian clenched her hands together, the many rings she wore knitting together with gentle clicks. ‘We’ve not had lǐ yú in such a long time.’
Marchioness Shen waved a hand towards Official Park, who was requesting his attendant fill his cup higher. ‘Official Park, be sure to tell me what you think of the dish. Braised carp with scallions is a speciality of the manor kitchen.’
Xian’s stomach churned as an attendant pulled the platter nearer to the Manhao official.
With the marchioness’s distaste for fish dishes, the household had no specialities that Xian knew of. Nor had he seen anything but prawns, or eel or crab served to dignitaries and guests.
‘Prince Xian.’ The crack of his name startled him from his considerations. Marchioness Shen clucked her tongue as she leaned forward to peer at him past her daughter.
‘Yes, your grace,’ Xian whispered, the scent of ginger and soy sauce too rich against his nostrils.
‘Eat, now. You have barely touched the dishes served so far.’ She flicked her hand toward a hovering attendant.
‘Just some seaweed soup, if you will,’ Xian said.
‘No. That will not do,’ the marchioness said. ‘You must be seen to be robust in appetite, Xian. Healthy enough for the journey ahead. It would not do for the envoy to be concerned you shall not last the trip.’
Xian’s throat clenched tight. ‘I am not unwell, I am just not hungry.’