Nonetheless, his gaze lingered on the girls until the flower boat disappeared behind a junk. It was easy to understand why many of the European traders who had homes in Macao kept Chinese concubines.

"There's the Settlement."

Kyle turned to study the narrow, bustling strip of land between the river and the city walls that was the only place in China where foreigners were allowed. A row of structures lined the riverbank, European and American flags snapping in the wind overhead. These were the hongs, huge warehouses where the foreigners stored and shipped their wares, living on the upper floors during the months of the winter trading season. "Strange to think that most of the West's tea comes through those warehouses."

"A trade that creates enough wealth to make men kings." Gavin squinted against the brilliant tropical sun. "We've a reception committee waiting at the water gate. The fellow in the embroidered silk tunic is Chenqua."

Kyle had heard of Chenqua, of course. The man was the chief merchant prince in Canton, perhaps the greatest in the world. Besides being head of the Cohong guild, he personally handled the affairs of Elliott House and several of the largest British and American trading companies. A spare man, tall for a Chinese, he had erect posture and a wispy, gray-streaked beard. His immense dignity was visible even across the water. "How did he know that we were arriving? "

"Information flows down the river swifter than water. Chenqua knows everything that involves a Fan-qui trader. In fact, he has one of his spies with him."

"Good Lord. Do the infamous Eight Regulations say that Europeans have to accept being spied on?"

"No, but I can't say that I blame Chenqua for wanting to keep an eye on us. You British lot are particularly rowdy, often breaking the regulations from sheer contrariness."

"Don't blame me for the sins of my countrymen!"

Gavin grinned. "I'll admit that you're fairly well behaved for an English lord. When you feel the urge to be outrageous, remember that Chenqua and the other merchants are the ones who will be punished for your sins. Heavy fines if they're lucky, and it's not impossible that they and their families could be arrested and tortured or strangled to pay for Fan-qui crimes."

Kyle stared at him. "You're not joking, are you? "

"I'm afraid not. This is China. They do things differently here. The Cohong merchants are probably the most honest men I've ever met, yet they can lose everything they possess because of Fan-qui shenanigans."

The information was sobering. Kyle scanned the group of men clustered on the water gate they were approaching. "Which one is the spy? "

"Jin Kang is the rather spindly youth to Chenqua's left. Technically he's an interpreter who works for the Cohong. They call them linguists, though none are very competent-it's beneath their dignity to actually study the language of barbarians, so few of them know more than the pidgin English spoken by most of the people who work regularly in the Settlement. Just enough to handle basic trade questions." Gavin's voice dropped as they came within earshot of Chenqua.

A barefoot sailor jumped nimbly from the boat and moored it by the steps that led up to the water gate. As the passengers disembarked in the walled area called the English garden, Kyle saw that Chenqua was even more impressive up close. His dark blue layered tunics were of the finest silk and decorated with embroidered bands around the wide sleeves, while ropes of beautifully carved jade beads hung around his neck.

His rank was indicated not only by the richness of his garments, but by an embroidered panel on his chest and a blue button on top of his cap. The button was the mark of a mandarin, with the color denoting the official's importance. A mandarin who offended his imperial masters risked losing his button. To a Westerner, it sounded amusing. Here, the matter was deadly serious.

Gavin bowed. "Greetings, Chenqua," he said with pleasure. "I am greatly honored that you have come to welcome us."

"You have been too long from Canton, Taipan," Chenqua said, using the term for the head of a trading house.

Gavin introduced Kyle, who added his best bow to the formalities. "It is an honor to meet you, Chenqua. I have heard much about you."

"The honor is mine, Lord Maxwell." A shrewd, black-eyed gaze ran over Kyle before the merchant turned back to Gavin. "Forgive my rude haste, but there is a matter of some seriousness. Can you come to Consoo House now? "

"Of course." Gavin glanced at Kyle. "With your permission, Chenqua, could Jin Kang escort Lord Maxwell to my hong and see him settled?"

"Of course, Taipan. Jin, attend to Lord Maxwell."

After Chenqua and Gavin left for Consoo House, the nearby headquarters of the Cohong, Kyle turned his attention to his guide. Jin Kang was much less impressive than his master. He wore the shapeless, high-necked tunic and trousers that served as a uniform for both sexes. The garments were a plain dark blue, with only a narrow band of embroidery edging the wide sleeves.

Wanting to explore his new surroundings, Kyle said, "If you don't mind, I'd like to stretch my legs and look around the waterfront first."

"As Sir wishes." Jin's soft voice was as self-effacing as the rest of him.

They left the English garden to brave the busy wharves. European goods were being unloaded while crates of Chinese tea and other products were packed into chopboats to be ferried to the trading vessels anchored at Whampoa. Kyle and his companion had to dodge swinging bales and sweating stevedores as they made their way along the waterfront. The intoxicating singsong rhythm of Cantonese filled the air.

As they moved away from the turmoil of the docks, Kyle studied Jin from the corner of his eye. The young man's blue cap covered his head from midbrow to the top of the thick queue of dark hair that fell down his back. He was dressed better than a laborer, and a small money pouch hung around his waist, but his downcast eyes and bowed shoulders made him an unprepossessing specimen. Even though he was taller than average, if he stepped into a crowd of his countrymen he'd disappear in an instant.

Of course, being overlooked would be useful for a spy. Jin Kang must have hidden talents, such as intelligence. Kyle looked more closely. Almost girlishly pretty, Jin had a pale, delicate complexion and features that were subtly different from those of the Cantonese around them. Perhaps he was from northern China. Northerners were said to be taller than Cantonese, and there might be other differences.

Since Jin's expression gave nothing else away, Kyle turned his attention from his guide to his surroundings. Beyond the wharf area, a floating village of boats was moored together like clusters of houses, leaving just enough water between the rows for a sampan to pass. Each houseboat had a little cookstove at the stern, and often squawking fowl were slung over the sides in wicker cages, awaiting their future as dinner. Whole families lived in a space that made an English laborer's cottage look large.

Kyle was about to turn away when a small child tumbled over the edge of the nearest houseboat. He caught his breath, wondering if the fall had been noticed, then realized that a wooden buoy was tied to the child's back in anticipation of such accidents.

Hearing the splash, an older sister materialized and fished the child out, scolding ferociously. "That little girl was fortunate to have that floating device," Kyle remarked.

He didn't expect a response, but Jin Kang said, "Boy, not girl." It was the first thing the youth had volunteered since they'd been introduced.

"How can you be sure it's a boy?"

"No floaters for girls," Jin said flatly. "Not worth it."

Thinking he'd misunderstood, Kyle said, "Daughters aren't worth saving?"

"Raising a daughter only to marry her off is like fattening a hog for someone else's banquet." Jin sounded as if he was quoting an old proverb.

Even by the callous standards of Asia, that was harsh. God help Chinese women, Kyle thought.

Turning away from the boat people, Kyle walked to the square, the open area between the waterfront and the hongs. The space resembled an English fair, teeming with beggars and fortune-tellers, food sellers and loiterers. Kyle attracted glances, but they were brief. This was the one place in China where a European was not an unusual sight.

A line of blind beggars lashed together on a rope shuffled into the square, wailing mournfully and banging sticks and pans together. The clamor was enough to raise the dead. His expression exasperated but unsurprised, a European emerged from one of the hongs and gave a pouch to the lead beggar.

The leader bowed, then turned and led his fellows back toward the city. Kyle wondered how large a gift was required to get rid of the rackety crew. "These fellows could teach the London beggars a thing or two."

Jin said, "Beggars belong to Heavenly Flower Society. Very old guild."

"Ah, a guild. Of course." A few weeks in Canton would seriously damage Kyle's capacity for surprise.

Ahead, a large crowd had gathered around a juggler, who was swinging a rock on a rope to clear people away enough for him to perform. There wasn't much space to spare in the square. Kyle cut around the crowd, moving to the river's edge. His gaze was on a brightly flagged mandarin gunboat when he heard a high-pitched shout: "Sir!"

An instant later he was wrenched sideways as a net full of tea chests fell from a crane and smashed down where he'd been standing. He and Jin ended up in a heap on the ground as dust and wood fragments sprayed them.

Kyle pushed himself up with one arm, and for an instant his gaze met Jin's. The young man's eyes were medium brown, not black, and showed sharp intelligence.