Did the curtains of the gilt sedan flutter aside?
Was it a spirit that glided so quickly from the royal sedan?
A slave shouted warning. His cry was taken up by the others. The oars stopped short in stroke. Torches flared. The boat listed heavily on its side as men swarmed to the railing. They talked in frightened squeaks. “Where?” squeaked one. “There,” from another. And “I see nothing.” “She is gone.” “Drowned.” “The river took her to be his bride.” “Drowned—and our necks will pay.”
Wolf Heart uncovered his wrath in all its blackness. He spoke with such fury that Wong Sing became frightened, and offered to send another bride—a dozen brides. The Barbarian refused to accept brides. He demanded gold—much of it. Gold, he said, could not leap into the river. And even if it did leap from a boat it would not necessarily be lost.
For that matter, a maiden may leap from a boat and not necessarily be lost. Radiant Blossom had passed her early days in the Province of Many Divers. Her home had been a river. She knew the waters as a friend.
Having leaped from the boat, Radiant Blossom permitted the river to hide her for long. Deeply she swam and the clouded current was a veil. At last, when she knew that the torches were far behind, she arose. The night was another veil.
To the hut of a fisherman went Radiant Blossom. She received coarse clothing that made of her, in look, a different maiden. Thus clad, she journeyed to the home of her father.
Some time later a portrait was brought to His Majesty, The Emperor Wong Sing. The portrait was that of a beautiful maid. It bore no words. Wong Sing offered much gold to any person who could tell him the name of one so beautiful. The maiden would make him a superlative wife. He wished to find her. But he never did.
