The emperor’s brother. The son of a concubine. According to the old ways, when the emperor came to his throne, he should have ordered his brother Sethon killed, along with all the other male children born to his father’s concubines. But our emperor was an enlightened man, an educated man. He let his eight younger brothers live. He made them his generals, and Sethon, the eldest of the eight, he made his commander in chief. Our emperor was also a trusting man.
“But High Lord Sethon commands the armies. What can islanders do against such might?” I asked.
Master Tozay shrugged. “Not much. But there are others, more powerful, who remain loyal to the emperor and his son.” He paused as an old woman stopped at the shop-hatch next to us to poke through a display of yeast cakes. “Come, this is not the talk for such an open place,” he said softly. “Or indeed for any place.” He straightened. “I fancy a sweet bun. How about you?”
I longed to ask him who opposed High Lord Sethon, but the subject was clearly at an end. And I had not had a sweet bun in a very long time - there was no money for such excesses in my master’s household.
“I should not dawdle. . . .” I said.
“Come, it will not take long. We’ll get them as we walk. Can you recommend a seller?”
I nodded. One bun would not take long. I spotted a break in the slow-moving crowd and led Master Tozay through it to the corner of the White Cloud Market. It was busier than usual, the afternoon sun driving people under the shade of the broad white silk sails that had been stretched between carved poles. We passed Ari the Foreigner serving some merchants in his coffee stall, the heavy perfume of the strange black drink thick in the air. Ari had once given me a bowl of his coffee, and I had liked the rich bitterness and the slight buzzing it left in my head. I touched Master Tozay’s arm and pointed at the pastry stall to our left, its counter blocked by customers.
“The red bean ones are said to be good here,” I said, standing on my toes to see the trays of buns arranged in neat lines.
The nutty smell of bean paste and sweet dough radiated in a wave of heat. A sharp roil of hunger joined the ache in my gut. Master Tozay nodded and, bowing politely, managed to neatly insert himself ahead of a woman hesitating over her choice. As I watched his broad back and sunburned neck, I felt another flicker of memory; of being carried on a big man’s back and the salty warmth of sun-leathered skin against my cheek. But, once again, I couldn’t make the image stay. Was it a memory of my father? I no longer had any clear idea of what he looked like. A moment later Master Tozay turned, holding a bun in each hand, wrapped in a twist of red paper.
“Here you go,” he said. “Be careful. The seller said they’re just out of the steamer.”
“Thank you, sir.” The heat from the bun stung my palm through the thin wrapping. I slid the paper down, fashioning a handle. It would be best to wait until it had cooled, but the smell was too tantalizing; I bit into it, juggling the steaming pastry around with my tongue.
“Tasty,” Master Tozay said, fanning his mouth with his hand.
I nodded, unable to speak as the hot, dense filling made my jaw seize and ache with its sudden sweetness.
He motioned forward with his bun. “Is this the way to the Gate?”
I swallowed and sucked in a breath of cooling air. “Yes, you follow the white sails until they end,” I said, pointing at the silk roof, “and then turn right. Just keep walking and you’ll come to the Gate of Officials.”
Master Tozay smiled. “Good boy. Now, if ever you make the journey down the coast to Kan Po, you must look for me. You can be always sure of a welcome.” He hesitated, then put his hand on my shoulder. “If that dragon has any sense tomorrow, he’ll choose you,” he said, giving me a gentle shake.
A bold, mesmerizing novel about the woman known as "Typhoid Mary," the first known healthy carrier of typhoid fever in the burgeoning metropolis of early twentieth century New York.
Z, the novel about the life of Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald is at points charming and; like another reviewer, I kept thinking of the movie, "Midnight...
read more
Although heavy on the scientific details, which slowed down the story for me (OK, I admit, I was one of those liberal arts majors who skipped out on...
read more
Loved this book. Magical, quirky, enchanting I could go on. All books do not have to be literary fiction, sometimes it is just so comforting to read...
read more
British Parliament asks Amazon to clarify why it pays $9 million in income tax on $23 billion of UK sales.(May 20 2013) Amazon will be called back to give further evidence to members of the British Parliament "to clarify how its activities in the U.K. justify its low corporate...
Full Story
