The Secrets of Jin-Shei. Alma Alexander

owed it to herself.

       Seven

      Yuet spent a sleepless night amongst Szewan’s chaotic records, trying to make sense of the world she had inherited. She had finally retired to her room in the last dark hours before dawn and fell into a fitful doze; she was not at her best when she was shaken awake only a few hours later by the servant.

      ‘Mistress? I’m sorry, mistress, I would not disturb you, but there is a message from the Court, for Mistress Szewan. The man says he must have an answer.’

      ‘Did you say anything to him about Szewan?’ said Yuet, sitting up, shocked awake.

      ‘No, Mistress Yuet. I said I would come and wake you.’

      ‘Thank you. Please tell him I will be there at once.’

      It was light outside, full day. Yuet drew on her outer robe in feverish haste, rebraided her tousled hair into a semblance of tidiness with swift, practised fingers, and paused to splash a handful of cold water onto her face, dabbing it dry with one of Szewan’s fine linen towels. It would have to do. It was just a messenger, after all.

      The man who had come with the message waited in the hallway, having refused the servant’s invitation into the sitting room.

      Yuet greeted him with a bow, and he returned it politely.

      ‘How may I help you?’ she asked.

      ‘The healer Szewan is required at the Palace, immediately.’

      ‘She is …; unavailable,’ said Yuet carefully. She most emphatically did not want the news of Szewan’s death prematurely escaping from this house. She needed time, time to set up her world, her life. Time to organize her future. ‘I am Yuet, her apprentice …; her partner. Is someone ill? May I be of assistance?’

      ‘If it please you, Mistress Yuet, I come from the Chancellor. Sei Zibo requests the presence of healer Szewan at a meeting of the Imperial Council this morning.’

      Yuet’s mind raced. Imperial Council? This had to do with the regency. Why did they want Szewan?

      The answer was obvious. Liudan.

      ‘When is Szewan’s presence required?’ Yuet asked.

      ‘The meeting is in an hour’s time, Mistress Yuet. I was sent to escort the healer to the Palace immediately.’

      ‘If you will wait here,’ Yuet instructed, ‘I will need a few moments to make a few arrangements and then I will accompany you myself.’

      ‘But it is the healer Szewan who …;’

      ‘She is, as I say, unavailable at this moment,’ Yuet said with a veneer of serenity which hid a wildly beating heart. She was going to gamble on something here; it was a good thing that this was a simple messenger, not a Guard with specific orders, not someone who would think things through and demand explanations. This man was of a lower tier, someone used to taking commands from somebody who knew how to give them, who would follow the last firm command that he was given. All she needed to do was remain firm. ‘Wait here. I will be out as soon as I am ready.’

      He was looking a little unhappy, but he bowed his acquiescence and took up a waiting stance at the door. Yuet went back to her room and summoned the servant, who came in so quickly that Yuet was sure she must have been lurking just outside the door, listening.

      ‘Help me,’ she said. ‘I need assistance with dressing my hair. I will go to the Palace in Mistress Szewan’s name. It is a good thing. At least I will be able to pass on the news without sending wild rumours out. The messenger is waiting to escort me there, we need to be quick.’

      The servant nodded, taking up a comb even as Yuet unbraided her hair and shook the rippling dark mass of it out. It spilled, straight and thick and long, almost down to her knees. ‘As simple as formality will allow,’ she instructed, hunting for ornaments on the table in front of her, reaching for the white ribbons of mourning that had to be woven into her hair, sorting out silver clasps to hold the rest of it up. ‘In the meantime,’ she said, while the servant’s deft fingers plaited and coiled, ‘allow no one into the house until I return, and say that Szewan and I are both unavailable at the moment. Take down details of anyone who needs urgent help, and I will deal with that when I get back. But nobody waits here, and nobody gets past you into the house. Is that clear?’

      ‘Yes, Mistress Yuet,’ the servant said, her eyes wide.

      ‘And when I return I will need to talk to you,’ Yuet said, ‘about Mistress Szewan.’

      ‘Yes, mistress,’ the woman said, her voice faltering a little.

      Yuet left her with that small seed of disquiet. It would do her good to worry on it for a while.

      She donned a fresh shift, laced an inner robe of pale silk at her throat, shrugged into a heavy brocade outer robe suitable for a Court appearance, ran a final check over her hair and her make-up, made sure she was wearing the white ribbon of mourning around her sleeve, and swept out of her chambers with a final warning to the servant to lock up after her and not allow anyone into the house.

      The escort had a hired sedan cart waiting, obviously in deference to Szewan’s age and infirmities, and since there had been no countermand issued he simply helped Yuet into it and gave the signal for the driver to depart. The streets were empty of people, still wrapped in mourning for the dead Emperor, normal commerce still operating in fits and starts; from within the chair Yuet could hear the intermittent calls of street vendors but the cart was given free passage, not jostled by other conveyances or forced to wait while one of higher rank swept by, and they were quickly at the gates of the Palace where they were admitted, after a brief hesitation, by one of a pair of Imperial Guards on duty. The chair was trotted into an inner courtyard; Yuet’s escort handed her down from it courteously, she thanked him, and he left her with a bow.