Tai stopped with his palace escort beside the platform couch opposite the first minister's, the one evidently left for him. He bowed, turning slightly each time, to include all those here.

He saw the heir, Shinzu, halfway along one side. The prince had a cup of wine, the only one there who did. He smiled at Tai. If he noticed the ring, if it surprised him, there was no sign of it.

Tai had briefly wondered if Jian would be here, but it had been an idle thought. Women did what they did behind behind such scenes as this-not among a council tasked with running an empire facing an armed rebellion. such scenes as this-not among a council tasked with running an empire facing an armed rebellion.

He'd known, not being a complete innocent, that the emperor would not be present. Once, he might have been. Not any more. Kitai's glorious emperor would receive a report-or more than one-in due course. Although ...

Tai looked around, trying to do so casually. There were tall room screens behind Zhou, between him and the doors at the back. If someone wanted to listen and observe, unseen, it would not be difficult. The servants would see him, or her, but servants didn't matter.

"Be seated, Second Son of Shen Gao." Zhou's voice was almost casual. "We have been discussing the movements of the Sixth Army. This does not concern you. Your presence has been solicited on a small matter, by the imperial heir."

Tai nodded, and bowed again to the prince. He gathered his robes and sat down opposite the first minister. There was something almost too direct about that. Shinzu was between them, on Tai's right side.

Wen Zhou went on, "We saw no reason-as ever-not to accede to the illustrious prince's wish to summon you."

We, Tai thought. He wasn't sure what that meant.

He inclined his head again. "I am anxious to be of any possible assistance, among such august company."

"Well," said Zhou airily, "I believe I have a sense of what his excellency has been thinking. In truth, the matter is already in hand."

"Indeed? How so, first minister?"

It was Shinzu. And though he still held his wine cup at a lazy, indifferent angle, his voice wasn't lazy at all. Instinctively, Tai glanced at his brother again: Liu's expression was transparently unhappy.

Suddenly uneasy himself, Tai looked back at the prime minister. Zhou said, with an easy gesture, "It is the western horses, of course, my lord prince. How else could this fellow be of significance? Accordingly, I dispatched twenty men yesterday to fetch them from the Tagurans. I trust your lordship is pleased." He smiled.

Tai stood up.

It was almost certainly barbaric, he thought, to do so at such a gathering. It might even be an offence. There were precise rules for how one spoke to power in the Ta-Ming, especially if one had no proper standing. He didn't care.

What was astonishing was how calm he'd suddenly become. It was when you cared cared, he thought, that you felt at risk. He said, without any salutation, "Did you ask your adviser, my brother, before you did that? Did Liu really let you do something so foolish?"

There was a shocked silence. Wen Zhou stiffened.

"Have a care, Master Shen! You are in this room only-"

"He is in this chamber at my invitation, first minister. As you noted. What were you about to say, Master Shen, while wearing my revered father's ring as a sign of very great honour?"

So he had noticed. The prince put down his wine.

Tai couldn't help himself: he looked again at the room screens behind Zhou. It was impossible to tell if anyone might be behind them.

He bowed again, before answering. "I only asked a question, august lord. Perhaps my brother might be allowed to answer, if the first minister remains disinclined?"

"My advisers do not speak for me!" Wen Zhou snapped.

Shinzu nodded briskly. "A sound policy. It would undermine confidence in the first minister even further if they did. So tell us, was this done after consultation with your advisers?"

Even further. No possible way to miss that. No possible way to miss that.

"The proceedings of the first ministry are hardly a matter for this council. Decisions are taken in widely varied ways. Anyone with experience of governance knows that."

A return arrow shot at a dissolute prince.

"Perhaps," said Shinzu. "But I must tell you, I would dismiss any adviser who had urged me to send those men."

"Ah! The prince wishes now to discuss the staff of the first ministry?"

"Too boring in every possible way." Shinzu smiled thinly.

Wen Zhou did not smile back. "My lord prince, this man has not yet been received by the emperor. He is placed in the list for attendance. Until he appears before the Phoenix Throne he cannot leave the city. The horses matter, as you have said yourself. Therefore I sent for them. What, my lord, do you wish to tell me is improper about that?"

It sounded impeccably reasonable. It wasn't. Tai opened his mouth, but the prince was before him.

"I wish to tell you that those men were stopped on the imperial road last night, at the first posting station."

This time Zhou stood up.

Protocol was taking a fearful beating here, Tai thought. His heart was racing.

"No one would dare such a thing!" Wen Zhou snapped.

"A few of us might have thought it necessary, but only one would dare. You are almost correct, first minister. Your riders were halted by soldiers of the Second Military District, who happened to still be at Ma-wai after escorting Master Shen Tai from the west."

"What is this? How can we defend ourselves against Roshan if we-?"

"If we ignore very clear information as to the conditions under which those horses will be released! Master Shen is required required by the Tagurans to collect them himself. They are his!" by the Tagurans to collect them himself. They are his!"

Zhou shook his head. He was taut with fury. "The Sardian horses are a gift to Kitai from the exalted emperor's own beloved daughter. The Tagurans would not embarrass themselves by denying a gift merely because a small aspect of the transfer-"

"Please!" said Tai. Zhou stopped. They all looked at him. "My lord first minister, allow your adviser to speak. For himself, not for you. Brother, did you urge this course upon him?" said Tai. Zhou stopped. They all looked at him. "My lord first minister, allow your adviser to speak. For himself, not for you. Brother, did you urge this course upon him?"

Liu cleared his throat as all eyes turned to him. He was an accomplished speaker, with a real skill at pitching volume and tone to circumstances. He had worked at this all his life, from before he could grow a beard.

He was visibly uneasy now. He looked from Wen Zhou to the prince. He said, "His gracious lordship, the prince, was surely correct when he suggested we require those horses more than ever, with the need to communicate over great distances."

"Which is why I invited your brother to join us," said Shinzu. "The horses are an honour given to one man. If twenty soldiers simply ride up to the border and demand them we'll be insulting Tagur by ignoring their conditions. We'd shame ourselves with our actions!"

"Who stopped my men?" Wen Zhou said, ignoring what the prince had said. There was a hard edge to his voice. A wolf cornered, Tai thought-or thinking he might be.

Tai knew by now. Zhou had to know, as well.

"Your cousin gave the orders," said Shinzu quietly. "The Lady Wen Jian told me I might say as much, if asked."

It would have had to be her, Tai thought. And it meant so much, that she would do this, that she was watching her cousin so closely. The empire was facing open rebellion and the two men she'd favoured, had tried to keep in balance, were at the centre of that. One in this room, one with his armies moving even now.

The prince paused, then added, even more softly, "Also, I was to tell you that she has now spoken with that man of yours, the one stopped some weeks ago, riding south."

The one who had killed Xin Lun.

"A conversation I should enjoy learning about," said Zhou, with genuinely impressive calm. "But this is a far more important matter!"

"My lord first minister," Tai said, and he said it formally this time. "The august prince is surely right. We risk losing two hundred and fifty Sardian horses. The terms of a supremely generous gift, one far beyond my deserving, were conveyed. I wrote myself, so did the Tagurans, so did the commander of Iron Gate Fortress."

"How vulgar and vainglorious to see yourself as so important, second son of Shen Gao. And do note: supremely generous supremely generous gifts are in the giving of the emperor of Kitai, not tributary, subordinate nations who beg imperial daughters from us as a sign of heavenly favour." gifts are in the giving of the emperor of Kitai, not tributary, subordinate nations who beg imperial daughters from us as a sign of heavenly favour."

Tai knew what he had to do next. It was not in his nature, and he was realizing that more and more with each passing moment. This was not where he wanted to be, not now, and perhaps not ever. But he could could dance a little here. dance a little here.

He held up his hand, with the ring. "I know all too well how supremely generous to his least-deserving servant our beloved emperor can be, may he live and rule a thousand years."

There was a short silence.

"May it be the will of heaven," said that emperor's son and heir. Zhou said nothing.

Tai turned to Shinzu. "My lord prince, do you wish me to take men and go west for the horses? I am at the service of the court. They are being held across the border from Hsien."

"So we understand."

"I am prepared to leave immediately."

The prince shook his head. Zhou was still on his feet, Tai saw. He faced the first minister, down the length of the council space in a vast and echoing chamber. If Zhou had somehow obtained the horses, Tai thought, there would have been nothing to stop him from having a certain second son killed. Nothing at all.

The prince said, "As it happens, the prime minister is correct in one respect. You cannot leave Xinan while awaiting an audience. Your name has been put forward."

Tai stared at him. "I would rather serve the emperor, as best I can, than seek an appearance at court."

Shinzu smiled. He had an effortless charm. It might have been, Tai thought, one of the things that had kept him alive all this time. That, and a reputation-disappearing moment by moment-for indifference to imperial affairs.

The prince shook his head again. "Events must flow as they are decreed under nine heavens, Master Shen. The palace and the empire will spin into disarray if they do not. When the periphery is unstable, as the Cho Master taught, the centre must be firm. My father will receive you. You will be given honours that-because they must must-will exceed those given by Sangrama in Rygyal. This is the way the world unfolds. And then, if it should be the desire of the Phoenix Throne, you may be asked to ride for your horses."

"My lord, time might matter."

"Which is why I sent for them!" interjected Wen Zhou.

"Is it?" asked Prince Shinzu. The prince looked at Tai. "Time always matters. But order, right conduct, right thinking have always mattered more. It is our way."

Tai lowered his head. He felt self-conscious now, standing so conspicuously. "I do understand, my lord. But if that is so, why am I here? You said you asked for me ..."

A flicker of amusement in Shinzu's eyes. This was, Tai suddenly thought, the son of a man renowned for intelligence and command. If the emperor had grown old and weary (thoughts not to be spoken), it did not take away from the lineage.

The prince said, "I asked for your attendance as soon as we learned of those riders sent for the horses. Those men would have been rejected at the border. We all know it, or should have known it. Your Your presence will be required there, and then the horses will be required by the empire, if you are good enough, of course, to make them available. Accordingly, I have asked you here, in the presence of the first minister, because we have need of his great power." presence will be required there, and then the horses will be required by the empire, if you are good enough, of course, to make them available. Accordingly, I have asked you here, in the presence of the first minister, because we have need of his great power."

Tai blinked. He looked at Zhou.

And only now did Shinzu turn that way. "First minister, I would dedicate myself and my own limited abilities to protecting this man, for the sake of Kitai and my father, but the times are dangerous and my own resources are meagre. I ask you, in the presence of this council, to pledge your office and life to guarding him for us. Only someone with your wisdom and power can ensure his safety in troubled times, and we know know Roshan is aware of those horses." Roshan is aware of those horses."

The expression on Zhou's face was genuinely interesting. Defeat was there, unmistakably, but behind it Tai thought he saw an amused, aristocratic flicker of irony: acknowledgement of a game well played, as if this had been a match on a polo field, and the ball had just been elegantly struck into his goal.

He agreed, of course.

THERE WAS NO WAY, Sima Zian said, over Salmon River wine that evening, that he could have failed to agree.

The moon, past full, was overhead. They were on a curved stone bench under lanterns in the garden of Tai's home. The garden was nowhere near the size or intricacy of Wen Zhou's, but it had a small pond, a bamboo grove, winding paths, an orchard. The scent of flowers was around them.

"The prince," said Tai. "He's changed."

Zian thought about it. "He is letting people see now what he has always been."

"He was hiding it?"

Zian nodded.

"Why now?"

"Perhaps it is time."

Tai's turn to think about it. "Is he in danger because he's doing this?"

"Shinzu?"

"Yes."

The poet drank his wine. A servant filled his cup, and withdrew. "Perhaps. But no more than any of us. There are a quarter of a million soldiers moving on Yenling."

He looked at Tai, and then away, and murmured: Bitter wind blows battle smoke. Bitter wind blows battle smoke.

Wild geese and cranes fly.

Later, moon's disk in the water.

Plum blossoms mirrored in the river, Until they fall.

He'd written that himself, during the last Taguran war. Tai's father's war.

Tai was silent a while, then said, "The first minister seems to think it will be over quickly. That the northeast will not accept Roshan's ambitions, will rise up behind him, and the Sixth Army will cut his supply lines."

Sima Zian's enormous tiger-eyes met Tai's. "We must hope," he murmured, "that the first minister is correct."

TAI DREAMED THAT NIGHT that he was back in the north. By that cabin beyond the steppe, watching men burned and devoured beside a jewel-bright blue lake. It wasn't a dream that came often any more, but the memory was never entirely absent, either.