An Inch of Ashes Read Free Page B

of her heart, but the sight of his booted feet beneath the table held her eyes. She stared at them, mesmerized, the sound of his voice like a drug on her senses, numbing her.
    Wu Tsai was flirting with Tsu Ma, leaning towards him, her words and gestures unmistakable in their message, but Fei Yen could sense how detached the T’ang was from her games. He leaned towards Wu Tsai, laughing, smiling, playing the ancient game with ease and charm, but his attention was focused on herself. She could sense how his body moved towards her subtly; how, with the utmost casualness, he strove at each moment to include her in all that was said. And Li Yuan? He was unaware of this. It was like the poor child was asleep, enmeshed in his dream of perfect love.
    She looked away, pained suddenly by all she was thinking. Li Yuan was her husband, and one day he would be T’ang. He deserved her loyalty, in body and soul. And yet...
    She rose quietly and went into the pagoda, returning a moment later with a
p’i p’a
, the ancient four-stringed lute shaped like a giant teardrop.
    ‘What’s this?’ said Li Yuan, turning to look at her.
    She stood there, her head bowed. ‘I thought it might be pleasant if we had some music.’
    Li Yuan turned and looked across at Tsu Ma, who smiled and gave a tiny nod of his head. But instead of handing the lute to her cousin, as Li Yuan had expected, Fei Yen sat, the lute held upright in her lap, and began to play.
    Li Yuan sat there, entranced by the fluency of her playing, the swift certainty of her fingers across the strings, by the passionate tiny movements of her head as she wrought the tune from nothingness. He recognized the song. It was the
Kan Hua Hui
, the ‘Flower Fair’, a sweet, sprightly tune that took considerable expertise to play. When she finished he gave a short laugh and bowed his head. He was about to speak, to praise her, when she began again – a slower, more thoughtful piece this time.
    It was the
Yueh Erh Kao
, ‘The Moon on High’.
    He shivered, looking out across the blackness of the lake, his heart suddenly in his throat. It was beautiful: as if the notes were tiny silver fishes floating in the darkness. As the playing grew faster, more complex, his gaze was drawn to her face again and he saw how her eyes had almost closed, her whole being suddenly focused on the song, on the movement of her fingers against the strings. It reminded him of that moment years before when she had drawn and aimed the bow. How her whole body had seemed to become part of the bow, and how, when the arrow had been released, it had been as if part of her had flown through the air towards the distant target.
    He breathed slowly, his lips parted in wonder. And Han was dead, and she was his. And still the Great Wheel turned...
    It ended. For a time no one spoke. Then Wu Tsai leaned forward and took her cup from the table, smiling, looking across at Tsu Ma.
    ‘My cousin is very gifted,’ she said. ‘It is said in our family that the gods made a mistake the day Fei Yen was born; that they meant Yin Tsu to have another son. But things were mixed up and while she received the soul of a man, she was given the body of a woman.’
    Fei Yen had looked up briefly, only to avert her eyes again, but it was clear from her smile that she had heard the story often and was not displeased by it. Tsu Ma, however, turned to face Wu Tsai, coming to Fei Yen’s defence.
    ‘From what I’ve seen, if the gods were mistaken it was in one small respect alone. That Fei Yen is not
quite
perfect...’
    Fei Yen met his eyes momentarily, responding to his teasing tone. ‘Not quite,
Chieh Hsia
?’
    ‘No...’ He held out his empty cup. ‘For they should have made you twins. One to fill my cup while the other played.’
    There was laughter all round. But when Fei Yen made to get up and pour for him, Tsu Ma took the jug and went round himself, filling their cups.
    ‘There!’ he said, sitting back. ‘Now I can listen once