By Amber Michelle K.
myaru@etherealvoid.net

Even winter nights could be beautiful to one who disliked the cold. With a brazier full of hot coals nearby and an extra robe draped over his shoulders, Sai had settled on the verandah to watch the snow blanket his garden. The moon was hidden somehwere behind the heavy clouds, and the night was just short of complete darkness, lit by lanterns and the perpetual glow of the city.

He had his flute to his lips and played a silent melody, waiting for the wood to warm so it would yield a good tone. Behind him he heard a sigh and the slither of silk. There was a curtain between them, but it couldn't conceal the edge to that little utterance.

"You have been... quite a long time away," came the voice, finally, carefully expressionless. "With Akitada, I hear." He imagined her face to be as frosty as the garden.

"He insists," Sai said, and returned at once to his breathy melody. It would be no good to let the wood cool again, and he didn't want to talk about his rival, or any of their games.

"Aoi too, Dainagon says."

He raised an eyebrow, and responded with a melody he'd heard at the palace during a tutoring game. The emperor was neglecting his study, but his new wife, Shoshi, had taken an interest in learning. Perhaps he spent a bit more time with her than he should; he would never dream of carrying on with the empress, but she did have a legion of maids. A man like Akitada wouldn't be able to resist. The regent certainly couldn't, if gossip was to be trusted.

He didn't see the draw in such liasons. If one was going to waste the time, why not waste it with a game instead? It would cause less trouble.

Unless one was married to this woman. Her silence had grown chillier as the moments passed, until Sai finished the whimsical piece and lowered his flute. "Dainagon has too much time on her hands."

Her fan snapped closed. "And too avid an interest in go?"

It was a great honor to be married to the Right Minister's daughter, as he well knew. Perhaps more than he deserved for simply playing go every day. He wondered whether it was worth it, when she felt she could reach above herself and accuse him with every new rumor.

He called a servant with a sigh and handed his flute over before rising, hugging the robe tightly closed. The ground was covered in a light dusting of white, and snow still drifted down lazily, gathering the light, making the darkness beyond seem deeper. How depressing. He turned his back on it and motioned for the doors to be closed before he ventured behind the curtain.

She was sitting as primly as he'd imagined, and didn't turn her head when he entered, but stared fixedly at her fan. Her nightrobe could have been her best kimono, by the set of her shoulders.

Perhaps he should have answered her directly. She was too sensitive to play games with. Too young. "The palace is full of rumors, Kosho." He gathered his hair over his shoulder and settled on the sleeping pallet, shedding the extra robe. "Try not to think too harshly of me."

Kosho turned her head slightly. Beyond the curtain the doors slid closed, hiding them from the midwinter night. Without the light of the lanterns only a brief outline of her figure was visible.

"Father summoned an Onmyouji. He'll arrive tomorrow after the morning meal, if you can be troubled to stay."

So her condition was confirmed? The minister had not told him. "Seimei? Or Kamono?"

"He didn't say." He heard her move, and then she joined him on the pallet, bringing some of the cold with her. But it seemed she was willing to melt a little, or she would have stayed away.

"It doesn't matter," he murmured into the dark. He would manage.

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I lost enthusiasm for this near the end when I realized, oh crap, I have three hours to sleep! Such a shame.