Li.
“Even this humble orphan has heard of the astonishing Li Kao, whose achievements are said to be without limit,” the king said graciously. “There is much we would like to discuss with you, and we look forward to the enlightenment of your wisdom. One day you may even confide in us the real purpose of your visit, but there is no hurry. You have brought us Grief of Dawn, for which we are deeply grateful. She shall be our honored guest, and may your own visit be a long one.”
A flick of a royal finger dismissed us. We bowed backward from the throne room. The chamberlain directed us back to our suite, where a splendid repast was waiting.
“Master Li, did he mean what I thought he meant?” I asked.
“That Grief of Dawn and I have just joined his collection of special people? I hope so,” Master Li said cheerfully. “Well, my love, are you ready for gold and sable?”
Grief of Dawn blushed and lowered her eyes. “What an extraordinary man,” she whispered.
I didn't realize just how extraordinary the king was until late that night. I awoke just after the third watch. Musical instruments were playing somewhere. I slipped into my tunic and stumbled out to the central room, yawning and rubbing my eyes, and I discovered that Grief of Dawn had heard it also and was standing at the window overlooking a garden.
It was the Golden Girls. Instead of bows they carried lutes and pipes, and they played very well. Then a great dark shape moved from the shadows, and the King of Chao stepped out into the bright moonlight. He was absolute monarch. He could take whatever he wanted, but that wasn't his way. Even at a distance I could sense that he was enjoying himself immensely, and he bowed deeply toward Grief of Dawn's bedchamber and then turned to face the moon. The king placed the big toe of his right foot upon the big toe of his left foot and began to sing a love charm from the barbaric country of his birth.
I can't explain it, but it was one of the most impressive things I have ever seen and heard in my life.
His majesty flapped his arms, imitating some sort of bird, and began to dance with grace that was accentuated by his huge bulk. There was nothing funny about it. He was like a vast force of nature, totally incapable of making a fool of himself.
Three times the song charm was repeated, and then his majesty bowed again toward Grief of Dawn's bedchamber. The Golden Girls also bowed. Then the king and his girls were gone, blending into the shadows, and I suppose that my face was rather expressive. How many young women are courted by a huge, powerful, infinitely courteous and gentle, yet infinitely barbaric monarch? Sable and gold awaited Grief of Dawn, not to mention an impossibly handsome young man named Moon Boy.
“Oh, Ox. Poor Ox,” Grief of Dawn said softly.
Her hand slipped into mine. “Come and walk with me, come and sit with me, come and sleep and share my pillow,” she whispered.
“Cluck-cluck!” I said.
There are mornings one would prefer to forget.
This one began beautifully, with sunlight sliding through the window and dappling Grief of Dawn's lovely shoulder. I nuzzled her cheek and listened to the lethargic buzz of lazy flies, and a drowsy drone of bees, and the curtains gently rustling in a whispering breeze, and a happy voice that bellowed, “Come back here, you little bugger!”
I sat bolt upright.
“Oh, damn,” Grief of Dawn sighed plaintively.
A naked boy, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, raced past the window on the veranda.
“Hey, bugger, don't you want the plugger snugger?” the happy voice yelled.
“Ten million curses,” Grief of Dawn groaned, smothering a yawn.
A naked young man galloped past the window after the boy, stopped, trotted back, and stuck his head inside the room.
“Good morning, my love!” Moon Boy said cheerfully.
“Why must you waste that thing on boys?” she said.
He glanced down complacently at his crotch. “Waste? What do you mean waste? You know very well that some of the little darlings can't sit down for a month.” Moon Boy climbed through the window and sauntered up to the bed. “My, you've certainly picked a splendid specimen this time. Congratulations!”
I hastily jerked the covers up to my shoulders.
“You're Number Ten Ox, aren't you? Where did you get that divine nose? Looks like a cow stepped on it,” Moon Boy said.
“Er… A slight disagreement with Big Hong the blacksmith,” I mumbled.
“I trust he received a decent funeral,” Moon Boy said, and then he sat down on the side of the bed and began caressing Grief of Dawn's right thigh. “Speaking of funerals, I once saw Master Li during one of his black periods,” he said. “He wouldn't remember me. I was in the back row at court waiting to give my first imperial performance, and this wicked old man kowtowed to the emperor, got to his feet, whipped a knife from his sleeve, and cut the throat of the Minister of Trade. Blood all over the place.”
“Moon Boy, is that true?” Grief of Dawn said skeptically.
“Every word. When the emperor learned the motive for the mayhem, he couldn't decide whether to boil Master Li in oil or make him a duke, but it was academic because the old man had already escaped to Turkestan. Shortly thereafter the High Priest of Samarkand was found with his nose caressing the sole of his left foot, which says something about the condition of his spine, and when the bailiffs paid a call on Master Li, they found he'd suddenly been called to the sickbed of a great-granddaughter in Serendip.”
I was used to Master Li stories, only a tiny fraction of which are even marginally true, but I was not used to hearing one from a revoltingly beautiful young man who climbed stark naked through the bedroom window and began stroking my girl's bare leg. Now he was stroking her left breast, and taking her into his arms.
“I've missed you,” he said softly.
“How I love you,” she whispered.
