船到江心，补漏迟
chuán dào jiāng xīn, bǔ lòu chí
Once the ship has reached mid river, it's too late to plug the leak.
It's too late to change course now.

The clouds that had been out on the sea had rolled in by the next day. They hung over Zhanghai, dull and oppressive and turning the world into a humid grey place.

When I realized that the true reason the princess sought my company at the festival was to exploit my make-up skills, I had resolved not to go. But after spending the day doing nothing but watching the clouds over the ocean, I was feeling in need of more lively entertainment.

So, surprisingly, I found myself outside Ermi's door late that afternoon, dressed in the yukata she had loaned me.

I knocked. "Come in!" Ermi's voice called through the door. I slid it open and stepped softly inside.

Ermi was sitting at a table by the window, much as I had been in the room above all day, but instead of looking at the clouds looming ever more ominous, her eyes were fixed on a book in her lap.

The girl had her back to me, and neither she nor her maid, who was folding clothing to one side, had taken note of my entrance. I approached silently and peered over Ermi's shoulder at her book.

When I saw what was written, I laughed inwardly and then read the line at the top of the page aloud. "'—he whispered in her ear as he guided her body closer. She came willingly into his arms, hands sliding up his chest and around his—"

"Ao-jie!" Ermi exclaimed, shutting her book with a sharp snap. I noticed she had asked the book seller to wrap the cover in paper. Having never felt the need to hide anything I read I had never made such a request, but I knew it was something customers often did for privacy.

"Hmmmm, what are you reading, exactly?" I asked, grinning down at the little princess.

"It's- it's just a romance novel," Ermi stammered. "About a man and a woman, separated by circumstances, who fall in love, and against all odds-"

I waved dismissively. "It matters not to me. Just make sure no one else catches you reading it, yes? I doubt it's proper, and would reflect badly on me as your propriety instructor."

"Of course, Ao-jie," said Ermi, carefully sliding the book under a stack of others on the low table beside her.

The little princess then noticed my attire. "Ao-jie! You're wearing the yukata! Does that mean you're coming with us?"

I smiled. "I am."

Ermi squealed and clapped her hands. "That's wonderful! Do you think— do you think you could help me with my make-up?"

In answer, I produced my small makeup box from my sleeve.

Ermi squealed again, even more exuberantly, and jumped to her feet, shaking the table beside her and causing one stack of books to slide to the side. I could not even feel angry, in the face of her enthusiasm.

"Yes yes, now sit down, and I'll get you ready," I said, guiding her to her makeup table and pushing her down onto the seat.

I did the girl's makeup while the maid prepared her dress. Ermi's yukata was soft blue and covered with pale pink blossoms. Most likely blossoms of the cherry tree, which I knew were popular in Wa. I mimicked the soft natural shades of the yukata in her makeup.

I could tell Ermi liked the result by the amount of time she spent staring at her own reflection, turning her head back and forth as if to confirm it was really her own face she saw.

The maid helped Ermi dress, carefully aligning the hems so the straight lines of the garment were preserved, even on Ermi's curvaceous form. Then the maid helped the both of us to wind the long, stiff obi bands around our middle, and tie them into ornate bows at our backs.

I disliked the way the obi felt around my chest, constricting my air and movement. I wished I could tie my yukata with a simple cotton belt, as the men did.

I helped Ermi twist her hair up loosely and fix it with a beautiful pin from Wa, tipped with a glass beads and charms on spider web thin silver chains that made a faint chime as they swung too and fro. The maid helped me do my own hair in a similar fashion, using a plain wooden comb to fix it in place.

We had just done the last touches on our hair, artfully pulling a few strands down to drop against our necks, when a knock came at the door.

Ermi called out to enter, and Kageyama slid the door open. He was dressed from head to toe in black, from his black yukata tied with a black cotton belt, to the black cloth bands of his geta, the large square wooden sandals he wore. They were not dissimilar to my own traveling sandals.

I could not help studying the man. The black of his ensemble, complimenting his dark eyes and hair; the straight, clean lines of his yukata that showed off his lean form. If you looked very carefully, you could see traces of the handsome man Kageyama had been.

He looked at ease, in this dress, and reminded me of the paintings I had seen of Wa men. I half expected to see a set of curved swords sticking from his cotton belt, but then remembered: Kageyama's sword did not need to be worn about the waist.

Kageyama entered the room, carefully stepping over a discarded garment on Ermi's floor. He glanced once at me before turning to Ermi.

"Come here," said the kitsune, beckoning her toward him. Ermi crossed the room and stopped in front of Kageyama.

Kageyama looked down at Ermi. For a moment, the look in his eyes was the same as at the Midsummer Banquet, when we had stood side by side before the sea, and yet his eyes had not seen the sea, but another place long ago. I wondered what Kageyama saw when he looked at Ermi in her yukata. Was it the clothes that reminded him of home? Or Ermi's young face, bright yet hesitant, that recalled the face of another?

Kageyama turned Ermi around so her back was to him, then carefully straightened her collar and tucked it tighter about the little princess's neck. "You should be careful not to expose your neck too much. It suggests a woman of loose morals," he said, glancing with disapproval at my own very visible nape.

His words caused Ermi to blush. She stood very still, like a doe caught in a predator's line of vision, while Kageyama straightened her yukata. I laughed quietly at her expression, and reached up to tug my own loose collar looser. "Won't you help me with my collar as well, Kageyama Sensei?"

Satisfied that Ermi's neck was suitably covered, Kageyama stepped back, ignoring me.

"Come, the carriage is ready," he said. He held out an arm to Ermi and led her downstairs. Fixing my own collar, I followed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

As we left Chuanfang the sun was setting, and the magnificent storm clouds above the sea, many li high, were lit bright orange as it sank, like the towers of some city in the sky.

Ermi and I rode in her small carriage with her maid, while the men followed on horseback. We left the carriage and the horses in the courtyard of an inn on the edge of the north district, and then headed toward the water on foot.

We were not alone. Around us, people also heading to the festival were dressed in their finest summer wear. Many of the young ladies were also wearing yukata, covered in flowers of all shapes and shades.

They tottered toward our destination together with Ermi, wearing geta and bright white socks that young ladies wore in Wa. In contrast to the square shape of male geta, female geta were rounded, and raised at the back to add a small heel and enhance the female posture.

I had opted for my traveling sandals, and wore them barefooted. I enjoyed dressing up, but there was no way I was encasing my feet in those neat white sleeves for the sake of fashion.

Around us excited talk echoed off the walls of buildings. Behind us a group of youths broke into roaring laughter. Nearby a group of girls giggled in reply. Small children ran past, eager to reach the stalls ahead of their scolding parents. It was time for a festival.

I far preferred the atmosphere of this gathering to the one that had been at the Midsummer Banquet. These were real people, for whom this was a treat, not simply an opportunity for social climbing. As such, they actually seemed to be enjoying themselves.

I found I was enjoying myself as well. I walked beside Ermi and her maid, listening to her eager chatter, flanked closely by Zakhar, Kageyama, and Sanli. Zakhar and Sanli were also dressed in the Wa fashion. Zakhar's yukata was a navy blue, and black dragonflies swirled in lazy circles across it. Sanli's yukata was of course dark green, with the shadow of darker maple leaves falling across the fabric.

As I glanced behind me at the men I noticed all three looked wary, eyes on the gathering around them. Even Sanli, usually relaxed to the point of laziness, seemed tense. Every so often his hand strayed to the small lump in front of his yukata where his seal hung about his neck.

I wonder why they were uneasy. Had Sanli spoken to Kageyama and Zakhar about what had happened with Guang Han? But it was me the dragon wanted. They had no need to worry.

We emerged at last onto the waterfront, strung with long white lanterns. On the lanterns, the names of nearby businesses were written in bold characters. A clever way to advertise.

The open area where the festival had been set up was usually used as a fish market, but tonight there were stalls of every kind. Many sold food. There were fresh meat buns and grilled squid on sticks, fried noodles or baked potatoes. For those with a sweeter tooth, there was even more selection. Fried sweet cakes, iced juices, and cool looking jellies.

My eye was caught by caramelized plums on sticks that shone like gems in the lamplight. Zakhar saw my object of interest and stepped up to the stall, buying three. He passed one stick to me, the other to Ermi, and the third he saved for himself.

"Where's mine?" asked Sanli.

"Buy your own," said Zakhar.

I thanked Zakhar and studied the smooth sugar casing for a moment, before putting it between my teeth and shattering it into pieces with a crunch. Inside the sweet outer case the fruit itself was a pleasant mix of sweet and sour.

Of the stalls not selling food, most sold some sort of frivolity especially for festival goers. Colorful fans and masks, small porcelain figures of lucky Wa mu'ren. It was these stalls that captivated Ermi, and I watched her small purse getting lighter and lighter as she visited each one.

Some of the stalls had games, where one had to throw a ball and knock over a particular number of ceramic jars in order to win a prize. Another had large tubs of fresh water, filled with thousands of tiny red fish waiting for customers to catch and bring home.

Another booth surprised me. It had an outline of a man drawn on a large wooden board. The wood of the board was puckered with marks. On the counter an array of small throwing knives and stars was spread on soft cloth, their metal edges twinkling in the lamp light.

"You too could be a shadow assassin of Wa!" the booth owner called out at us as we passed. "Hit the head or heart to win a prize!"

"Ooooh, Sho Sensei, you would be good at that," said Sanli, tugging on Kageyama's sleeve.

"No," said Kageyama. He pulled his sleeve free and hurried on.

The festival was crowded, and would not have been half as enjoyable if our group had been relegated to moving along at the pace of the rest of the throng. However, whenever our group turned down an aisle, it suddenly seemed to grow emptier then it had been. At first I thought the townspeople somehow instinctively understood Sanli's station and made way for him, but then I noticed the glances Zakhar's arms, neck, and chest were receiving. His tattoos curled out from beneath his yukata like tendrils of smoke.

"You are rather convenient, at times like these," I said to him.

He glanced down at me. "I am?" he asked, confused.

I gestured to the people moving out of our way around us. "The people. Their fear of you and your tattoos. It makes for a much more comfortable festival."

Zakhar frowned and looked away. "Glad I could be of use," he said. I was disappointed. It seemed there was still distance between us.

Then, to my intense relief, a familiar smile spread over Zakahr's face, and he turned back to me. "Perhaps that means you should stick close to me, tonight."

I laughed and took his arm. "If you keep buying me food, perhaps I will."

Together we sampled whatever caught our fancy. Grilled fish on sticks. Pickled cucumbers spread with a salty sweet paste. Chicken on sticks. A section of watermelon each. More chicken. And more candied fruit. I was grateful I had found a friend like Zakhar, with an appetite to rival mine.

In our quest for food, we found ourselves separated from the others. I did not think much of it. Finally, sated and sweaty, Zakhar and I searched for a place to rest. Off to one side, a narrow staircase led up the cliff to a shrine made in the style of Wa, dedicated to the sea, where fishermen and traders would go to pray for a safe voyage.

As we made our way toward the shrine, a distant flash of white sparked above the sea. A moment later, a faint roar rumbled in the distance.

I settled on the old stone steps leading up to the shrine. They were pleasantly cool through the cotton of my yukata. I begged Zakhar to fetch us a drink.

"I think you should come with me..." Zakhar said, hesitating. When I protested, he glanced to the nearest stall selling iced juice, some 50 lengths away, then back at where I sat. "Fine. But don't move from this spot."

"Unlikely. I'm too hot and full to move."

Zakhar chuckled and left.

I sighed, leaning back on the steps to look at the sky above. The undersides of the clouds, dark and looming, hung above me, lit faintly by the lights of the city below. I breathed deep. The familiar smell of rain hung on the air, waiting to break. I loved that smell.

Suddenly, my neck prickled, the hairs there raising up like an animal's.

I was very conscious of the stone steps at my back, stretching up into darkness. Who knew who was standing in the shadows of the shrine above, watching me?

Zhen, I told myself. It's just the prince's pet snake. As though that was supposed to comfort me.

"Play the game both ways, and you lose double."

Guang Han wouldn't waste resources to seek me out just for revenge, would he? Still, it was not wise to tempt fate... or an angry dragon.

I searched and found Zakahr's figure, still approaching the juice stall. The stall suddenly seemed a long way away.

I stood, pushing up off the stairs, to hurry after him.

"What are you doing here?"

I started and turned. Kageyama had appeared from nowhere. He wore a kitsune mask, tilted jauntily to one side of his head. "Where's Zakhar?" he asked, crossing his arms.

I sighed with relief and sat down again. I motioned to where Zakhar stood, haggling with the stall owner. "Getting a drink."

Kageyama frowned. He glanced up the steps to the shadowy top of the shrine.

There was a pause. I had the feeling Kageyama was listening intently to something I couldn't hear, with my inferior human senses.

At last, his body posture relaxed. He tucked his hands into his sleeves, and turned away from the shrine, instead giving his attention to those passing by.

"The mask suits you," I said.

Kageyama grunted, then came and sat beside me on the steps, geta loud on the stone.

"A present from Ermi," he said with a sigh. So he couldn't say no, I thought with a grin. He glanced at me, and at the blue rain flowers on my yukata. "You know, 'Ao' means blue in my language."

I was surprised by his volunteering this information. "Your language. You've lived in the Inner Kingdom for how many decades? How many centuries?" I said in reply.

Kageyama shrugged, causing the fox mask to slip further sideways. "We don't forget where we came from. And it doesn't forget us."

"On the contrary. I forgot long ago where I came from," I said.

"And where did you come from?" asked Kageyama, dark eyes following the passing of a couple and their young child.

"I told you, I forgot."

Kageyama glanced at me, and smiled wryly, before pushing off the stairs and moving toward Zakhar, who was approaching with a tall bamboo flask of iced juice in each hand.

"I told you to stay with her," I heard the kitsune hiss. Zakhar mumbled an apology. Kageyama nodded toward the shrine and said something under his breath I couldn't catch.

Zakhar glanced at the shrine and then at me. "Ao, let's go find the others," he called cheerfully.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The 'others' consisted of Sanli, Ermi, Ermi's maid, and three of Chuanfang's guard who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. They were dressed in plain clothes, but I recognized their faces from seeing them on guard duty at Chuanfang.

They had not come with us. Had they been following in the crowd?

Perhaps I had not been wrong in being fearful of Guang Han and his possible revenge. It seemed the men were.

I decided to stick close to Kageyama or Zakhar the rest of the evening, just in case. I recalled the confrontation at Chuanfang, and realized that Sanli, as a proficient magic user, probably offered the best protection of all.

I approached the prince. He and Ermi squatted on the sand of a small beach that ran close to the festival area. A candle was lit and stuck into the sand between them. The flame flickered in the strong breeze, and Sanli and Ermi laughed as they hurried to shield the flame with their bodies.

"What are you doing?" I asked, squatting beside them.

Sanli turned and passed me a small stick of twisted paper. "Firefly fireworks. But the candle for lighting them keeps going out."

He took the twist in his own hand and dangled it over the flame. It sputtered to life in a hiss of sparks surrounding a golden orb.

I watched the orb slowly climb up the stick, devouring the paper as it went. When it got near to Sanli's hand, the orb grew smaller, and the sparks it shot out died. Finally, like a spent firefly, the orange orb dropped to the sand with a molten hiss.

I had done hand fireworks before, but usually you held them straight up, and the sparks bloomed from them like springs of flowers. I had never seen these strange fireworks that you held upside down and watched climb and sputter their lives out like sad insects.

"They're popular in Wa," said Sanli, seeing my confused look.

"You can compete to see who's lasts longer," said Ermi. "Let's light them at the same time and see Ao-jie. Ready? Three, two, one, GO!"

I scarce had time to understand her meaning and hold my own twist in the flame before they both burst to life. About half way up, my firefly fell to the sand and died. I cursed.

"You have to hold your hand very still, or else the ball will fall," said Ermi.

We tried again, the three of us, and again mine fell first.

"The sticks you gave me are faulty!" I cried in frustration.

Sanli laughed. "Sho Sensei, Zakhar, come join us!" he called.

I found that again, out of the five of us, my golden drop was the first to fall. Even excitable, clumsy Ermi held her drop longer than me. I sputtered in frustration, sounding like my small firework.

Sanli reached out, taking my hand. He guided it over the flame of the candle, until my firework sparked to life.

"It isn't just holding it still," Sanli said. He moved closer, till he crouched close beside me, shoulder pressed to my own. "In this weather, you have to protect it from the wind as well."

Together we shielded the small firework from the wind. It lasted longer this time, almost burning to the end of the twist of paper. The heat of the sparks gently stung my finger tips.

When it died, I glanced at Sanli. "Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome. You'll get better with practice." He pulled another twist from his sleeves and held it out to me.

"Not for this," I said. "For yesterday. You helped when no one else would. I should not have questioned your motives for doing so."

Sanli's eyes widened and he looked away. "Perhaps you are right to question my motives," he said, playing with a firework between his fingers before finally lighting it.

I did not reply. I lit the twist in my hands Sanli had just given me. It burned all the way to the end this time, and then fell with a hiss into the sand at my feet.

Then another hissing sound began, and the smell that had hung in the air all evening intensified. Rain started falling, singing across the sand and the ocean like wind in the trees. Around us other festival goers laughed and shrieked and hurried to find shelter.

"Back to the inn!" called Kageyama.

We were caught in the press of human beings moving back into the city. I found myself squeezed up against Zakhar's broad chest. The crowd around us eyed his tattoos warily, but pressed in as we were, were unable to move away.

Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I noticed a man, dressed in dark clothes with a cloth wound round his head, watching me carefully. Too carefully for passing interest.

The man saw my glance and slipped back behind the person next to him, out of sight.

Zakhar rested one hand on my shoulder. He had seen the man as well. "Stay close to me, yeah?" he reminded. I nodded. I was suddenly glad for his protective nature.

Slowly, we shuffled our way back to the inn, along with the crowd. I caught glimpses of Sanli and Kageyama ahead of us, and the soldiers and Ermi's maid off to one side, through the crowds of people and the rain.

By the time we reached the inn courtyard, my cotton yukata was soaked from the waist up. Below that the press of the crowd and Zakhar's tall frame behind me had sheltered me from the worst of the rain.

The stable hand had fetched the horses, and one of the soldiers from Chuanfang stood holding the horses of the carriage. Ermi's maid had one foot on the stairs, ready to board.

Kageyama looked relieved as Zakhar and I staggered into the courtyard, dripping. "Good," he said. "Let's head back."

And suddenly, we all realized what was missing. "Where's Ermi?" said Sanli.

*~*~*~*~*~*