Shuai Tiao looked at the young Japanese swordsman he’d hired, and Genji looked back at him with round wondering eyes. Then they both shrugged and turned to watch Liang Fu bustling rapidly out of the tavern on the heels of the Chinese servant. “I suppose we had better follow and find out what’s happening,” Shuai Tiao observed reluctantly, “I’m not usually a gambling man, but I bet you ten k'ai yuan whatever it is means more delay.”

      The scene that met their eyes outside the Smiling Cat confirmed his suspicions. They found the Chinese servant reasoning in a low and patient manner with a closed palanquin, which presumably contained one of the travellers. The other traveller, a distinctly foreign-looking young man of quite striking beauty, was remonstrating dramatically with a very harried-looking Liang Fu, who was trying to calm him down while also adding his own urgings to the occupant of the palanquin. A small curious crowd had already gathered to watch the scene in the hopes of it turning into a full-scale row in the street.

      Shuai Tiao folded his arms and watched in silent astonishment for a while until he decided someone was going to have to do something positive to get the caravan on the road, and it looked like that someone was going to have to be him. He sighed and tapped the Japanese youth’s shoulder. “Genji, bring the horses round. I’ll see if I can break up this fond leave-taking.”

      As Liang Fu was the man who had hired him, he approached him decisively and with a swift bow of apology to the overexcited traveller for interrupting his flow of what sounded very like heated inventive. “Honourable Liang Fu, is there some problem here?” he said flatly, “We are already late departing.”

      “Problem?” Liang Fu glanced warningly at the huffing exotic beauty then back to Shuai Tiao. “No, there’s no problem,” he said firmly. “Mehdi, this gentleman is Shuai Tiao, who comes with the highest recommendations as an excellent swordsman and experienced guide. He has crossed the Taklimakan Shamo very many times and will deliver you safely to Samarkand.”

      Despite the fact Liang Fu‘s assurance was a blatant lie since he had never been further than Kashgar before, Shuai Tiao nodded confidently and tried not to stare too obviously at the Persian. A certain amount was starting to fall into place now about Liang Fu’s mysterious clients and why this one at least needed to leave Chang’an quickly and imperceptibly. Not that Shuai Tiao traded in scandal and rumour himself, but a man who hoped to find work with the caravans to the west did well to pay attention to even the most scurrilous speculation about the city’s foreign merchants, and he recognised the name ‘Mehdi’ - quickly nicknamed The Persian Poisoner by popular gossip after his master’s sudden convulsive death. Shuai Tiao’s eyes unavoidably strayed to the palanquin, from which the servant was still trying to coax its sulking occupant, and his suddenly ominous mood deepened. “And who is that?”

      The panelled door of the palanquin opened, and the second of the two travellers finally deigned to step out, stiff with the elegant hauteur of a courtier despite the plainness of his shenyi. Another remarkably beautiful creature, who cast a glance of chilly and absolute loathing at the Persian before turning with a proud lift of the chin to observe Shuai Tiao trying not to stare at him. “This is the honourable Shang Jin, Doctor of Medicine at the Imperial Academy of Chang'an,” the man’s servant hastened to inform the startled young swordsman, then bowed low, “His humble servant Zhou Zian is privileged to have been chosen to accompany him.”

      Genji had now appeared round the corner leading a small cavalcade of horses, and arrived just in time to catch Zian’s words. “A doctor?” he remarked cheerfully, entirely oblivious to the hostile glares and hissing inventive the two travelling companions-to-be were exchanging, “Well, I hope we won’t need his skills, but it’s good to know we’re not entirely reliant on Shuai Tiao’s herb-bag.”

      “Ah, exactly,” Liang Fu had evidently decided he had fulfilled his obligations to his ‘clients’ by arranging a guide out of the city for them and delivering them to the right place, and was now in a great hurry to be on his way and forget about both of them before his own reputation was tainted by association. “Well, Shuai Tiao, I think there are no more reasons to further delay your departure?”

      “I am not going anywhere!” Mehdi had fallen momentarily silent, distracted from his evil glowering at the young Chinese doctor by the sight of the horses, which he was now staring at in horror. All the animals were of the rather ugly, shaggy, raw-boned yema breed preferred by desert travellers for their endurance and toughness. Clearly the Persian concubine was horrified at the prospect of being astride one of these ugly brutes, but even so, the vehemence of his sudden reaction to Liang Fu‘s hopeful hint startled everyone.

      “But sir, you have to leave the city, remember?” Liang Fu‘s tense expression suggested it was only by a great effort of will he wasn’t screaming and tossing his embroidered and tasselled hat to the ground in frustration, “The horses might not be pretty, but they’re the best kind for crossing the desert and…”

      “Oh it’s not that!” Mehdi tossed his hair and snorted, “And I’ll even travel with that bitch,” pointing at Jin, “If I have to, as long as he stays out of my face.”

      “Then what is it?” enquired Shuai Tiao, gritting his teeth slightly.

      Mehdi now pointed to Zian. “He has a servant to attend him, and I don’t.” He folded his arms and fixed Shuai Tiao and Liang Fu with a defiant dark glare, his delicate jaw set into a line of unmoveable obstinacy. “I want a servant too.”