"If we must," said the dui dui commander. "Eight more deaths will not change what is to come, along with however many of us fall, including myself. I don't matter. I know enough to know that. And the horses are your duty, not ours. Stand aside, my lord. I am asking you." commander. "Eight more deaths will not change what is to come, along with however many of us fall, including myself. I don't matter. I know enough to know that. And the horses are your duty, not ours. Stand aside, my lord. I am asking you."

"Tai," said Sima Zian softly, at his elbow, "they are not going to stop for you."

"Nor I for them," said Tai. "There comes a point when life is not worth enduring if one steps back."

"I agree, Master Shen."

A woman's voice, from the open doorway to the posting station.

She had come out.

Tai turned and he looked at her. Their eyes met. He knelt, near the blood of her cousin where it was spreading on the porch. And, with a shiver, he saw that not only did his Kanlins also kneel, and the poet, but every soldier in the inn yard did the same.

The moment passed. The soldiers stood up. And Tai saw that the archers still held their bows, arrows to strings. It was only then that he accepted that this was going to happen and he could not stop it.

In part, because he saw in her eyes that she willed it to be so.

"Poet," she said, looking at Zian with the mocking smile Tai remembered, "I still grieve that you chose to be ironic with your last verse about me."

"Not more than I do, illustrious lady," said Sima Zian, and Tai saw that he had not risen from his knees, and there were tears on his face. "You brought a shining to our time."

Her smile deepened. She looked pleased, and young.

Tai stood up. He said, "Will the emperor not come? He can stop this, surely."

She looked at him for what seemed a long time. Those in the courtyard were waiting, motionless. The posting station of Ma-wai felt to Tai as if it were the centre of the empire, of the world. All else, everyone else, suspended around it, unknowing.

"This is my choice," she said. "I told him he must not." She hesitated, holding Tai's gaze. "He is no longer emperor, in any case. He gave the ring to Shinzu. It is ... the right thing to do. There will be a hard war, and my beloved is no longer young."

"You are," said Tai. "It is too soon, my lady. Do not take this brightness away."

"Others are taking it. Some will remember the brightness." She gestured, a dancer. "Shen Tai, I remember sharing lychees with you on this road. I thank you for it. And for ... standing here now."

She wore blue, with small golden peonies (royalty of flowers) embroidered on the silk. Her hairpins were decorated with lapis lazuli and two of her rings were also of lapis, he saw. She wore no earrings that morning. Her slippers were silk, and golden, with pearls. He was near enough to tell that she had not left the Ta-Ming in the middle of the night without the scent she always wore.

Nor had she left without considering the Sardian horses at the border, and sending a messenger through the night city for the only man who could claim them for Kitai.

"You must let me go," Jian said softly. "All of you."

He let her go. He dreamed of it, and saw it in his mind's eye waking, all the rest of his days.

He watched her turn, poised, unhurried, stepping lightly past her fallen cousin who had brought them all to this. She went down the steps alone-lifting her robe so it might not catch-and into the yard, and she went forward there, in morning sunlight now, to stand before the soldiers who had called her out to kill her. It was a dusty inn yard, filled with fighting men, not a place for silk.

They knelt. They knelt down again before her.

She is too young, Tai thought. In the room she had left, an old emperor and a new one remained out of sight. Tai wondered if they were watching. If they could see.

With mild surprise, he saw tears on Song's face, too. She was wiping at them, angrily. He didn't think she'd ever trusted or liked Jian.

Perhaps liking was without importance sometimes, with some people. The dancers, like summer stars. You didn't say you liked liked a star in the sky. a star in the sky.

He moved to the top of the steps leading down. He had no idea what he was doing, he was living inside sorrow.

Jian said, clear as a temple bell sounding across fields, "I have a request, dui dui commander." commander."

The officer was still kneeling. He looked up for an instant, then lowered his head again. "My lady?" he said.

"I would not like to die as my cousin did, to have arrows disfigure my body, or perhaps my face. Is there a man here kind enough to kill me without marring me? With ... with a knife, perhaps?"

That faltering, her first since coming out.

The commander looked up again, but not directly at her. "My lady, such a man would be too clearly marked for death. It is not proper for me to name anyone in my company to that."

Jian seemed to consider it. "No," she said. "I understand. I am sorry to have troubled you with such a request. It was ... childish of me. Do as you must, dui dui commander." commander."

Childish. Tai heard a footfall behind him. Then a voice by his side.

"I will do it," said the voice. "I am marked in any case."

The tone was precise. Not beautiful as a temple bell, but firm, no uncertainty.

Tai looked at his brother.

Liu was gazing at the commander in the yard, his posture and expression defining authority, a man accustomed to being heard without raising his voice. He wore his mandarin's robe and a soft hat, and the belt and key of his rank, as always. The man he had served was lying in blood at his feet.

That was it, of course. Add Wen Zhou's death to the emperor's abdication, a new emperor for Kitai. Consider Liu's position as the first minister's principal adviser, and ...

And you had this, Tai thought. Added to the other moments unfolding here one by one, a morning tale.

The dui dui commander nodded his head jerkily. He seemed, for the first time, overawed by what they'd set in motion. Not so as to falter (his soldiers would not allow it by now), but by the weight, the resonance of this. commander nodded his head jerkily. He seemed, for the first time, overawed by what they'd set in motion. Not so as to falter (his soldiers would not allow it by now), but by the weight, the resonance of this.

Liu lifted a hand in a practised gesture. "One moment, then, dui dui commander, and I will be with you." Jian had turned, was looking up at the two brothers. "My lady," said Liu, and bowed to her. commander, and I will be with you." Jian had turned, was looking up at the two brothers. "My lady," said Liu, and bowed to her.

Then he turned to Tai. "This needs to happen," he said crisply, quietly. "I was the prime minister's man. There is a price to be paid for a failure such as this."

"Did you have anything to do with that order? Teng Pass?"

Liu looked contemptuous. Tai knew that look. "Am I such a fool in your eyes?"

"He never spoke of it?"

"He stopped seeking my counsel on some things from the time you returned to Xinan, Second Brother." Liu's thin, superior smile. "You might say your return caused all this."

"You mean my failure to die at Kuala Nor?"

"Or Chenyao, if I understand it rightly."

Tai blinked. Stared. Anger slipped away.

Liu's smile also faded. They looked at each other, the sons of Shen Gao. "You didn't truly think I had anything to do with that?"

The sensation was so strange. Relief like a wave, and then another wave, of sorrow.

"I wondered," Tai said. "We knew it came from Wen Zhou."

Liu shook his head. "It would have made no sense. I knew how far away you were, if you were still alive. You could do nothing about Li-Mei even if you were foolish enough to want to. Why would I need you dead?"

"Why would he?" Tai looked down at the dead man beside them.

"He didn't. Which is one reason he never told me about it. It was nothing but arrogance. He did it because of the woman, and because he could."

"And Teng Pass?"

"He was afraid of Xu Bihai. Afraid the general would decide the rebellion was was Zhou's fault and come to an arrangement with the rebels. I think he feared all soldiers." A slight smile. "Makes this morning amusing, doesn't it?" Zhou's fault and come to an arrangement with the rebels. I think he feared all soldiers." A slight smile. "Makes this morning amusing, doesn't it?"

Tai said, "That wouldn't be my word for it."

Liu flicked his fingers dismissively. "You have," he said, "no sense of irony. Listen now, and carefully." He waited for Tai to nod, an instructor confirming a student's attention.

Liu said, "The horses will save your life. Let it be said abroad-by the Kanlins, if you can do it-that I did did try to have you killed. They won't lie, you must make them think you believe it." try to have you killed. They won't lie, you must make them think you believe it."

"Why? Why do I need to-?"

The familiar, impatient look. "Because Shinzu is more clever than any of us suspected, and if he thinks you are linked to me ..."

"I am am linked to you, First Brother!" linked to you, First Brother!"

Liu's expression was impatient again. "Think. In this imperial family, brotherhood can mean hatred and murder as easily as anything else. Shinzu will know that. Tai, there is a clear path to power for you, for our family. He honours you already. He will have need of advisers, his own men, over and above your bringing the horses."

Tai said nothing. Liu didn't wait for him to speak.

"Also, the lands given you, by the Great River. A very good property, but not safe for the next while. I have no idea which way Roshan will go, but he might move south. After they take Xinan and finish killing there."

"He will allow killing in the city?"

A small headshake, as if it pained Liu that someone might not see these things. "Of course he will. Wen Zhou slew his son, and the rebel soldiers are hard men, more than half of them barbarians. Almost all of the imperial family are still in the city. They are dead when he finds them. Xinan will be a bad place for the rest of this summer at least. People will be leaving in panic. As soon as today." His voice was brisk, low, no one else could hear. The soldiers were waiting. Jian, Tai thought, was waiting.

Liu seemed to come to the same awareness. "I cannot linger to teach you," he said. "Our own estate will likely be safe for our mothers, but have an eye to them, wherever you are. Keep Shinzu content, stay as close to him as you can. If this rebellion lasts a long time, and I think it will now, there is a man in Hangdu, near our property. His name is Pang, he has only one leg, you cannot miss finding him at the market. He has been buying and storing grain for me, for our family, in a hidden barn I had built some time ago. He needs to be paid three thousand a month, the middle of every month. You are wealthy now, but there will be shortages of food. Try to keep buying. These things are yours now to look after. Do you understand, Second Brother?"

Tai swallowed. "I understand," he said. "Pang, in Hangdu."

Liu looked at him. No affection, no fear, not much of anything to be read in the soft, smooth face.

Tai said, "I am sorry for this, brother. I am ... pleased to know you did not send the assassins."

Liu shrugged. "I might have, if I had thought it prudent for any reason."

"I don't think so, Liu."

A superior smile, well remembered. "You did until now."

"I know. My error. I request forgiveness."

His brother glanced away, then shrugged again. "I forgive you. What I did for our family, Li-Mei made a princess, I would do again. Tai, it was a master stroke."

Tai said nothing. His brother looked at him, then away towards the courtyard.

"So was Kuala Nor," Liu added softly.

It was suddenly difficult to speak.

"I didn't think of it that way."

"I know you didn't," said Liu. "If you can, have me buried beside father in the orchard." Another thin smile as he glanced back. "You are skilled at quieting ghosts, are you not?"

And with that, he went down the steps to the sunlit yard, drawing a jewelled court blade from the sleeve of his robe.

Tai saw him approach Jian and bow to her. The dui dui commander was the only one near them, and now he withdrew, backing away a dozen steps, as if to, belatedly, distance himself from this. commander was the only one near them, and now he withdrew, backing away a dozen steps, as if to, belatedly, distance himself from this.

Tai saw his brother say something to Jian, too softly for anyone to hear. But he saw her smile, as if surprised, and pleased, by what she heard. She murmured something to Liu, and he bowed again.

He spoke one more time, and after a motionless instant she nodded her head. She made a dancer's spinning movement, a last one, the sort that ends a performance and releases the audience's approval and applause.

She ended it with her back to Liu, to the posting station. She faced south (her people had come from the south), towards the cypress trees lining the road and the summer fields beyond them, bright in morning light, and Tai's brother placed his left hand around her waist, to steady the both of them, and he thrust his knife cleanly into her, between ribs, into the heart, from behind.

Liu held her, gently, carefully, as she died. And then he held her a little longer, and then he laid her down on her back in the dust of that yard, because there was nothing else he could do.

He knelt beside her a moment, arranging her clothing. One of her hairpins had come loose. Tai watched his brother fix it in place again. Then Liu set down his jewelled blade and stood up and he moved a distance away from her, towards the archers of the Second Army. He stopped.

"Do it," he said. Making it his command. And was standing very straight as they sent half a dozen arrows into him.

Tai had no way of knowing if his brother's eyes were open or closed before he died. He did become aware, after a time, that Sima Zian was beside him, saying nothing, but present.

He looked out into the yard. At Liu, face down, and at Jian on her back, the blue robe spread about her, and it seemed to him that sunlight was wrong for what the moment was, what it would always be now, even as it receded. This morning brightness, the birds rising and darting, their singing.

He said that, to the poet. "Should there be birdsong?"

Zian said, "No, and yes. We do what we do, and the world continues. Somewhere, a child is being born and the parents are tasting a joy they never imagined."

"I know that," said Tai. "But here here? Should there be so much light here?"

"No," said Sima Zian, after a moment. "Not here."

"My lords?" It was Song. Tai turned to her. He had never seen her looking as she did now. "My lords, we request your permission," she said. "We wish to kill two of them later. The commander and the first archer, the small one. Only two. But it must be done." She wiped at her cheeks.

"You have mine," said Zian, eyes gazing out upon the courtyard.

"You have mine," said Tai.