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The tune played by the herd-boy still echoes in his mind, the pure notes of the flute lingering even now. Zhuge Liang hums variations on the melody as he strokes his hands through the copper basin of warm water. He watches the blood unravel and drift from his skin, dissipating into clouds in the water. Conscious that he's wasting time, he scrubs his hands together to wash away the slime and secretions from the birthing of the foal.
Zhou Yu stands in the doorway watching him. For a while they're silent. Zhuge Liang is content to wait, polite enough to permit the owner of the house to speak first. He knows what Zhou Yu will say but has no wish to put words into his host's mouth.
"I know why you're here," Zhou Yu says at last.
Zhuge Liang smiles without looking up. He clasps his hands together deep in the bowl, his fingers gripping tight. "Good. That will save both of us some time."
"You're direct."
"I find it the best way when dealing with soldiers." Zhuge Liang raises his head and meets Zhou Yu's measuring gaze. "There's less chance for misunderstanding."
A gleam of some emotion – perhaps amusement – shows briefly in Zhou Yu's expression. He tilts his head. "And how do you deal with dukes?"
"That depends on the duke." Zhuge Liang reaches for the jug placed nearby and pours out a generous amount of hot water. When he plunges his hands back into the basin, he sighs at the heat.
"I heard you dealt with him in an unusual manner." Zhou Yu's mild tone has an edge to it.
The water splashes. Zhuge Liang does it again, deliberately. He fires a glance upwards from beneath his brows. "I stated my opinions and beliefs before the whole court. Perhaps that is considered unusual here."
It's not what Zhou Yu meant, and they both know it. There's an infinitesimal pause before Zhou Yu comes into the room. He walks around the table where Zhuge Liang kneels with his hands in the basin. "How do you know us so well, strategist?"
"The wind tells me."
"What else does it say?"
Zhuge Liang stares at the water, waiting for the ripples to still before he moves his hands and disturbs the surface again. "War is coming."
"Storm clouds, yes? I believe that is the accepted metaphor."
He laughs. "There are other signs. A bolt of lightning from a clear sky. The stink of the sea borne inland. A red halo around the moon." Zhuge Liang raises his head slowly and looks at Zhou Yu. "There are many signs."
"So you are a prophet."
"No. I merely observe things."
Zhou Yu makes a non-committal sound. He walks to the window overlooking the lake and stands there for a moment, the brightness of the day just edging his profile with darkness. Outside there are water lilies and rocks and trees, a microcosm of the kingdom of Wu recreated in one man's garden.
Zhuge Liang resumes washing his hands. The heat of the water is fading now, and the pads of his fingers feel very slightly wrinkled. "Lu Su told me you were difficult."
"Indeed."
"There is little point in trying to charm a difficult man."
Zhou Yu turns from the window. "Some would say there was every point."
With a chuckle, Zhuge Liang shakes water from his hands and dries them on a soft square of unbleached linen. "Would you allow yourself to be charmed?"
"By you? No."
"Then I believe we will do well together. We will be able to speak with honesty." Zhuge Liang folds the cloth and sets it beside the basin before he rises to his feet. He turns back his sleeves, letting the white and cream silk cover his arms to the wrist. Though he considers himself not as elegant as Sun Quan and not as striking as Zhou Yu, he feels better now he's clean.
Zhou Yu approaches him, his gaze once again assessing. He offers a polite smile. "I haven't yet thanked you for your help with the foal. Breech births are often fatal."
Zhuge Liang shrugs. "It was nothing. Patience and the ability to adapt to a situation – these things are necessary for a good midwife."
"And a good strategist."
Zhou Yu continues to study him. A lesser man would be unnerved by the attention, but Zhuge Liang likes to think of himself as unflappable. He makes minor adjustments to the fall of his sleeves.
"I'd heard of you, but only now do I see that what I heard didn't even begin to describe your character." Zhou Yu folds his arms across his chest. "They call you the Hidden Dragon. What do you hide from?"
Zhuge Liang drops his gaze and smiles. "The things we hide from are always the things that stay with us, no matter how hard we try to escape."
"Interesting." Zhou Yu raises an eyebrow. "For a man who professes to like direct conversation, your own answers are surprisingly indirect."
Zhuge Liang laughs at that. He picks up his fan, closing his fingers around the handle with a sense of relief.
Zhou Yu indicates they should leave the room and rejoin the others in the reception hall. As they walk together along corridors scented with sandalwood and roses, he turns his gaze to the fan clasped in Zhuge Liang's hand. "Your fan is unusual," he says. "A whole hawk's wing. I haven't seen the like before. Is this common amongst the men of Shu?"
"You think it's a pretension." Zhuge Liang holds it down, the feathers pointing towards the floor.
"No. I think it calms your anxieties, as you told me."
Zhuge Liang gives him a sharp look, half suspecting mockery. But Zhou Yu's face is placid, his expression one of polite interest. Reassured somewhat, Zhuge Liang decides to tell him. "The hawk was my own. I reared her from a chick, not as a hunter but as a companion for when I walked the boundaries of my estates."
"A companion?" Zhou Yu looks startled before he settles again. "But why not. My wife is fond of animals too, as you've seen. Treats them as if they were her own children. I have never heard of a man training a hawk as his companion, though."
If it's an insult, it's only slight. Zhuge Liang can overlook it. He glances at the fan and remembers his hawk, her pale hooked bill and her golden eyes, her tawny feathers and soft-speckled breast. He remembers how she rode on his shoulder, her claws like tiny needles as she gripped through the layers of padding he wore, the whisper of her wings against his face whenever she became agitated. Most of all, he remembers the joy of unfastening her jesses and throwing her to the flight, watching her wings spread as she soared higher and higher.
"She flew every day, coming back to me when I called." Zhuge Liang drags himself from his memories. "Then one day, she died."
Zhou Yu makes a sympathetic sound. "She was sick?"
"No." Zhuge Liang tastes anger in his throat, sharp and bitter even after all this time. "She was poisoned."
Zhou Yu breaks his stride to stare at him. "Someone poisoned your hawk? Who did it? Why?"
Zhuge Liang licks his suddenly dry lips. It was a mistake to start this conversation. He looks towards the reception hall ahead, hoping that Lu Su or Xiao Qiao will come in search of them. His fingers curl around the handle of the fan, and he feels the leather thong wrapped around it dig into his palm.
"The killing of your hawk was not accidental." Zhou Yu continues to watch him, and now it's as if he sees too much. "That's why you made her wing into a fan. It's to remind you."
It seems pointless to deny it. Zhuge Liang nods tightly, acknowledging the truth.
"I'm sorry." Zhou Yu touches his arm, a brief gesture that means nothing and everything. "You should not hide your feelings so much. It can't be good for you."
Laughter expels some of Zhuge Liang's tension. "I told you: I don't hide."
"Oh, you do." Zhou Yu looks directly at him. "For example, I think you're hiding your true purpose."
Zhuge Liang grips the fan, flexes his fingers around it. "I came here to make an alliance on behalf of my master Liu Bei. There is no other reason."
"Men like you don't content themselves with the short-term." Zhou Yu starts to walk again, this time with slow footsteps. "War is inevitable – we both know that. Our purpose and enemy are surely the same, but what of the new world we create? What use has it for Liu Bei and Sun Quan?"
A spark of anger flashes through Zhuge Liang before he can stop it. "I fight in my own way but always I fight for my master. I believe in him and I will never betray him."
Zhou Yu holds up a hand and smiles. "So, your feathers can be ruffled after all."
Zhuge Liang stares at him. He feels more rattled than he wants to admit. He shouldn't have mentioned his hawk. Not when so much depends on this meeting with Sun Quan's viceroy. Zhou Yu is an intelligent man and could read all kinds of meanings into the story of the hawk.
"You are as loyal as I am," Zhuge Liang says. "This is well known."
Zhou Yu stops again, and they stand together in the middle of the corridor. Sunlight tracks in fading patterns across the polished wooden floor. A bowl of white jade sits upon a black lacquered table nearby. A dragonfly flits through the open space, a blur of glittering blue.
"I served the previous Duke," Zhou Yu says. "Now I serve His Highness."
Zhuge Liang stands straight and taps the fan against his chest. "He calls you his elder brother."
"And like an elder brother, I watch out for him." Zhou Yu turns to him, all trace of politeness gone. "His Highness is young. Men like you..."
He doesn't seem able to finish his sentence. Zhuge Liang waits with exaggerated patience as Zhou Yu tries again: "His Highness is..."
"Easily led?" suggests Zhuge Liang.
Zhou Yu gives him a killing look. "Sometimes his judgements lack discernment."
"Whereas yours are always infallible."
A twitch of the lips is the only acknowledgement Zhou Yu gives of that hit. He readies himself visibly for another delicate attack. "I heard you spoke with the Duke privately."
"I did." Zhuge Liang tilts his head. He'd wondered if the duke's bodyguards had gossiped about what they'd overheard that night.
"Your meeting took until dawn to conclude."
Zhuge Liang forbids himself the smile that threatens his composure. He nods. "An alliance is a complicated matter."
Zhou Yu raises an eyebrow, his expression cynical. "Of course. I'm sure His Highness was most accommodating."
Remaining calm, Zhuge Liang waves his fan back and forth. "You mistake the matter, I assure you."
"You...?" There's silence for a moment, and then Zhou Yu snorts and shakes his head. "You are dangerous, Zhuge Liang."
"That is why we should be allies rather than enemies," Zhuge Liang replies with deceptive mildness.
Zhou Yu narrows his eyes, assessing again. "Most likely we would be rivals."
"I would prefer us to be friends."
"We shall see." They look at one another, neither of them giving anything away, until a sound from the room ahead breaks into their silence.
Lu Su comes out into the corridor, his long sleeves flapping. Clearly he sees nothing amiss, for he beams at them both. "My lord, good friend, please join us. Lady Xiao Qiao has prepared tea."
Zhou Yu gives Zhuge Liang one final glance before he strides forward.
Zhuge Liang follows, permitting a slow smile to curve his lips. Things are going well.