The Ways of a Snake

The Ways of a Snake

                A boy cowered under a dark-skinned, brawny man’s gaze. "Kafael—" But his words were cut off.

                "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he demanded furiously, his dark eyes glinting menacingly. A hand twitched to his scabbard where a longsword was tucked into its sheath. "You've gone and made a mess of things, you have, Yan!" He jabbed a finger at the crates on the ground. "What are we supposed to do with these? They were supposed to have been delivered to Master Elmore!" He was still shouting furiously at the apprentice boy when their mistress arrived.

                "What's the matter?" the long-haired woman asked delicately, her soft accent brushing the words like feathers. "All this ruckus so early in the morning; what has happened, Kafael?"

                The man named Kafael gave an angry snort. "Look at what your precious Yan has done, Mistress Lihua." He rudely gestured to the crates of tea. "All these, wasted!"

                Lihua's head tilted slightly to one side, her almond-shaped eyes fixating on the boy in question. He was of a tender age of seventeen, slight built, with a shock of brown-black hair. He wasn't Chinese or Mongolian, but a boy from the king-countries in the west, raised from birth in Ming. The clothes he wore were like hers; made of rich silk and fine quality embroidering on the sleeves, but of a more modest design. "Explain yourself, Yan." There was no anger in her voice.

                Yan hesitated, and then answered in a breathless whisper, "When Kafael was—resting, a group of merchants looking for tea came by. As you, Mistress Lihua, were on a separate transaction, I'd reckoned that I’d get the tea and trade it myself."

                Lihua's face was devoid of emotion, but her eyes were kind. "And? How did the trade go?"

                The boy was talking more eagerly now, the threat of Kafael's fists gone, replaced by Lihua's tender questioning. "It was a very difficult business, but I managed to get a sizable price.” He looked sheepish. “As much as I can do, anyway.”

                "Sizable," repeated Kafael in disgust. "You've given it away for half the price!"

                She raised an eye, and he quieted. "If you've sold it, why is it still here?"

                "They wished to speak with you, about the price, mistress," he answered. "They say that it's still too expensive."

                "Too expensive—!" exploded Kafael.

                Lihua was quiet for a long time, the sound of Kafael's heavy breathing evident amidst the silence. She looked up at the clouds churning above. "It's late, and it looks like there will be rain tonight. Pile some unused crates on top of each other, put bags of salt in them, and mix some burgundy dye in them, and then leave them outside. Put the crates of tea inside where it's dry." She bent down and opened one of the crates, inspecting the tea. It was of the highest quality—an imperial type fit for the emperors.

                "Mistress...?" Both Kafael and Yan looked confused.

                "There will be no more discussion of this. Yan, you've done a great service to me." Yan's face went beet-red from the rare complement. "And you, Kafael, follow me." Her tone to him was harsher than when she had spoken to Yan. Her eyes glinted darkly.

                Kafael followed Lihua to her room, and she turned on him. "Did I hear Yan right?" she demanded angrily. "You fell asleep on your watch?" Obviously not expecting this, he spluttered for words. But Lihua was having none of it. "Yan is a boy. I expect you, when I leave you in charge, to watch over all that goes on. This would not have happened if you had remained alert. Do you understand me?" Kafael looked away ashamedly. It would have been a strange sight—a grown man subservient to a woman. "It might have been a group of merchants this time, but it could easily have been a group of bandits. Constant vigilance, Kafael."