Dragon and Phoenix by Joanne Bertin Page A

counting tricks, and before the rope could be set up for the ropewalkers, Shei-Luin took Xahnu from Tsiaa and walked off with him. Such a thing was never done, she knew, by the noble ladies of the court. Even children who were not imperial heirs were usually given over to maids and servants to raise until such time as they had manners and wit enough to hold a conversation with. But Shei-Luin cared nothing for what the meek court ladies did. She had been a woman of the Plains—as Xiane’s own mother had been.
    And that, she knew, was a large part of her fascination for Xiane. For he was obsessed with all things Zharmatian; she was grateful for that even as she used it to her advantage. It meant he treated Yesuin as an honored guest, not as a prisoner. It also meant that, if she were careful not to go too far, she could pressure Xiane in ways that no proper Jehangli woman would even dare to think of. Even as she twisted him around her finger, he begged for more.
    Only Murohshei followed, for he was her shadow. Shei-Luin took herself deeper into the garden. From time to time, she paused to listen. Xahnu snuggled against her; she nuzzled him lovingly. He was such a good child.
    “Listen,” she said, and kissed him, “and I will tell you a story, little phoenix. Hear now the tale of the lady we honor today. I will tell it to you just as it was told to me.
    “Long, long ago Lady Riya-Akono, wife of the cruel Dragon Emperor, fled to the moon and rained silver arrows down upon her husband so that she might save the people of Jehanglan. But the Dragon Emperor survived her arrows. Hot for vengeance, he raced along the magical bridge that she had used to reach the moon, seeking to kill his empress.”
    She paused. Nothing—yet. So she went on with her tale because Xahnu seemed to enjoy it.
    “Waiting until the Dragon Emperor was nearly to her, Riya-Akono slashed the bridge with her father’s old sword, knowing what it meant. For though the Dragon Emperor tumbled to his death, thus ending his cruelties, Riya-Akono had marooned herself upon the moon. But even knowing what would be her fate, the empress had not hesitated. And that is why the throne of the empress is known as the Throne of Riya-Akono.
    “Therefore, upon this day and no other, the temple choruses sing the praises of the Lady of the Moon. On no other day is the moon mentioned, only the Phoenix of the Sun.”
    She sang what she could remember of the hymn to the Lady of the Moon. Xahnu squealed in delight. She laughed softly at him. “Remember—she was of the West, as are we.”
    At last she heard what she had waited for: a voice softly humming a Zharmatian love song. She stopped in a little grotto formed by jasmine bushes. Their sweet scent welcomed her; she plucked a flower and teased Xahnu with it. The child gurgled with delight as he snatched at it. Murohshei stood guard at the entrance, his powerful bulk between her and the world.
    Moments later, he stepped aside without a glance at the man who slipped past him. Shei-Luin handed Xahnu into the arms that reached for him.
    Yesuin cradled the boy against his chest; Xahnu looked up into his father’s face and cooed.
    “He knows,” said Shei-Luin.
    “I know you had sent me word that he looked like me, but …” His voice broke. Then, recovering himself, “We’re lucky, you know, that Xiane took after his mother. Else …”
    He shook his head. For a time he was silent; Shei-Luin watched him as he lost himself in the wonder that was their son. Her heart brimmed with love for these two.
    Then Yesuin said, “My love, I thank you for this most precious of gifts, but … We cannot go on.”
    Shei-Luin’s heart turned to ice. “What do you mean?” she demanded.
    “Betraying Xiane this way … . Shei, he’s been good to me. He’s become my friend. To trick him like—”
    “You’ll abandon me to him?” Shei-Luin blazed. “Leave me to a man with no idea what a woman wants or needs, a man clumsy as an ox,