Read Online Dark of the Sun by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Free Book Online Page A

elegance. She had the gift of seeming to float, so that every step and gesture appeared to be suspended, ethereal; even the rapid passages were unhurried, graceful, and effortless. When she was done, she bowed to Zangi-Ragozh.
    “Truly excellent,” he said, and put a gold coin on the tray with the tea things.
    “Would you like to see another?” Jo-Hsu asked, still panting a little.
    “Yes, I would,” Zangi-Ragozh told her. “But take a little while to recover your breath.”
    She ducked her head. “Thank you.” Straightening up, she looked about her. “What would you like me to dance next?”
    “You know your preferences better than I,” said Zangi-Ragozh. “Choose whichever you would like most to do.”
    “Would The Last Petal please you?” she suggested.
    “I have never seen it,” Zangi-Ragozh told her. “It would enlarge my understanding if you would dance it for me.”
    Jo-Hsu nodded. “Then I will do it. Some people think it’s too sad, but I like it.” She took a position in the center of her stage and said, “Play, Weh-Bin.”
    The musician complied at once, striking up the plaintive tune with more sensitivity than she had shown in the previous dance; the melody twined around three central notes, and the dance used this device, for it consisted of turns and twirls that recalled petals dropping on the wind. When the dance was finished, Jo-Hsu was on her knees, bent forward, hands extended.
    “Lovely,” said Zangi-Ragozh, looking over at the musician. “Perhaps Weh-Bin would like to retire for a short while, to reinvigorate herself, and you, Jo-Hsu, have some tea for refreshment.”
    Rising easily, Jo-Hsu spoke softly to Weh-Bin, saying to Zangi-Ragozh, “She will return directly.”
    “Very well,” he said, and indicated the couch near his chair. “Please. Be comfortable.” He poured out a cup of tea for Jo-Hsu and held it out to her. “Drink this, if you would.”
    She took the cup as she sat and tasted the tea. “My favorite. Thank you.
    “You dance very well,” Zangi-Ragozh told her. “Your reputation is richly deserved.”
    “You are good to say so.” She drank more of the tea and lay back on the couch, watching him covertly.
    “How long have you studied?”
    The question surprised her, and so she answered more truthfully and directly than she usually did when patrons asked her about herself. “Since I was a little child. My mother was a dancer, very famous, with many rich patrons, and she taught me all she knew.” She drank the last of the tea in her cup. “She died when I was twelve. I began to dance professionally two years later.”
    “So young,” Zangi-Ragozh said as he rose to refill her cup.
    “Many dancers begin their careers younger than I was,” she said a bit brusquely.
    “That was not what I meant,” Zangi-Ragozh responded; he poured the tea.
    Jo-Hsu was taken aback by his courtesy. “You need not … I will tend to the tea myself.”
    “There is no reason that you should,” said Zangi-Ragozh, sitting down again. “It is the least I can do for you.”
    She stared at him, her face revealing the many emotions that welled in her, from gratitude to affronted indignation. Finally she said, “You are not my servant.”
    “No, I am not,” he responded, his dark eyes on hers. “But you deserve my service.”
    “Because I dance well?” She was startled at the notion. “Surely—”
    “Because you dance well,” he confirmed.
    “And is that all?”
    He studied her for a long moment. “If it is all you want, then yes. If it is not, then no.”
    Into the potent silence looming between them, Weh-Bin returned. Taking in Jo-Hsu and Zangi-Ragozh in a single glance, she swiftly withdrew again and informed the servants that Jo-Hsu should be left alone until she sent for help.
    Jo-Hsu’s eyes flickered as she heard the side-door snick closed. She gave a long, languorous sigh and made herself more comfortable on the couch. “It is always pleasant to have a man