Heart of Iron - Ekaterina Sedia [17]
Wong Jun shrugged and grinned. “See how most of the students here wear black or dark blue robes with red ones underneath? That’s xuanduan, Han formal dress. My robes are Manchu.”
Olga and I nodded politely. “It can’t be just about clothing,” she whispered to me.
I shook my head and gestured that I would explain later—thankfully, my friendship with Chiang Tse prepared me for at least a vague discussion of Ming and Qing differences, and the commonly professed Han hostility toward the Manchu.
Wong Jun and Chiang Tse expressed no outward enmity toward each other, but instead joined forces in explaining the Opium War to Olga; apparently, dislike of the British brought the Manchu and the Han together. We drank the tea that smelled faintly of flowers—a taste both familiar and strange, and watched the sky change color from almost white to blue to streaked with pink. Just as the sun was touching the roof of St. Isaac’s Cathedral, Anastasia squawked from her perch by the window. “You have to see this, Miss Alexandra,” she called. “That’s the man I told you about.”
Olga and I both bolted for the window, arriving just in time to see a stocky man cross the street toward the club. He was dressed in a non-descript blue coat and trousers splattered with mud at the hem. His top hat was pushed low over his brow obscuring his face, but Anastasia insisted he was the man she had seen at the shop.
Chiang Tse joined us at the window, and watched our discussion with a somewhat puzzled expression. I hurried to explain the rumors of the secret informers to him.
“We’re not doing anything untoward,” he said. “We have nothing to be afraid of.”
“Except the opium smokers in the parlor,” I said. “You might discourage their public consumption. It is not illegal, but . . . ”
Wong Jun left the dining room, and his whispered words spread a mild agitation among the students. Some hurried to the parlor to make sure that there were no non-presentable activities, and opened windows to chase away the sweet, lingering smell of the opium smoke.
Olga and I traded looks, unsure if we were in any danger. If we were to leave right away, would the Nikolashka outside start questioning us? I suddenly realized what my aunt had meant with her attack on Prince Nicholas. The idea of the Nikolashki was somewhat sinister; the appearance of one outside the Chinese club betrayed the prince’s proclivity for unsavory business.
“Do you think the Chinese are truly are spies?” Olga whispered into my ear.
I have to confess the question had not previously entered my mind, but I now weighed the possibility. “No,” I finally said. “They are just students, just as we are.”
“They could still be spies.”
I sighed and pulled Olga away from the window, and made her sit down by the table. “Listen. They are our friends. Shouldn’t we trust them?”
Olga’s eyes filled with doubt but she said nothing.
“Come on,” I said. “What did they ever do to you?”
Olga stood, and would not meet my gaze. “I better go.”
“You can’t go by yourself.” I turned to Anastasia. “Please take Miss Olga to the dormitories.”
Anastasia scowled. “And leave you here alone? No, miss, I cannot.”
“Consider it an order,” I said. “Please don’t argue, or I’ll send you back to Trubetskoye and you know what words my Aunt Eugenia would have for you.”
Anastasia paled, impressed by the thought of Countess Eugenia’s wrath to such an extent that even her freckles disappeared. “How will you get home, Miss Alexandra?” she dared to ask.
“I’ll walk,” I answered. “Don’t worry, I know the way, and I’ll be along as soon as we know what these men want.”
“You don’t have to stay,” Olga said, still not looking me in the face.
“I won’t be long,” I answered. “I just want to make sure that Mr. Chiang Tse and his friends are not harmed. I cannot do much other than offer my word as to their character, but my family might mean something to these people.”
I walked Anastasia and Olga to the door and promised to join them soon. When I returned to the dining room, the servers had cleared the table. The Chinese students had congregated