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.

But the color wasn't what riveted Kyle. On a handful of occasions he'd met someone and felt an instant, powerful sense of connection. Most recently there had been a ragged holy man in India, who with one glance had seemed to see into Kyle's soul. The same had happened with Constancia at their first meeting. That bond had lasted until she died, and beyond. Now, strangely, something in this young Chinese man resonated intensely.

Jin Kang dropped his head as he started to scramble to his feet. As soon as he placed weight on his right ankle, it turned under him and he gasped with pain.

A crowd had gathered, the stevedores babbling in pidgin what sounded like apologies for the broken rope that had caused the accident. Ignoring them, Kyle said, "How bad is your ankle? "

"Not… bad." Jin tried to stand again.

When Jin's face twisted, Kyle took hold of the younger man's arm to steady him. "Which is the Elliott hong?"

"That one." Jin gestured toward a building in the center of the row.

"Can you walk that far with my help?"

"It is not fitting for you to aid me! My master, Chenqua, would not like it."

"A pity, since I have no intention of overlooking the fact that you saved me from being crushed." Supporting Jin, Kyle started toward the hong. The young man managed to hobble along reasonably well. Probably the ankle was only sprained.