As they crossed the square, Kyle again recognized how much strength was contained in Jin's slight body. He was incredibly fast as well, to have knocked Kyle out of the path of the tea chests without being injured himself. But now he was shaking, probably in mild shock from the ankle injury.

They reached the gate that led into Elliott's hong. Kyle identified himself to the porter, then helped Jin through a set of wide doors. They entered a vast storage area rich with the scents of sandalwood, spices, and tea.

Jin gestured to the right. "Office there."

A narrow aisle between stacked boxes of export porcelain was just wide enough for them to pass. They entered the office, creating a stir among the half dozen workers. A man with an air of authority got to his feet and said with an American accent, "Lord Maxwell. We've been expecting you."

"You're Morgan, the senior manager, I presume? Elliott always speaks most highly of you. Order a pot of tea for Jin Kang," Kyle said. "He'll also need someone to examine and bind his ankle. He just saved me from being flattened by a load of tea chests when a hoist broke."

"There's a doctor at the English Factory." Morgan gestured to a young Portuguese, who scurried off. "Well done, Jin."

Kyle helped Jin Kang to the nearest chair. The young man's hunched posture conveyed acute embarrassment at causing so much disruption, and he was still shaking. Was he really so much in fear of Chenqua? Or had Kyle violated some taboo by touching the young man?

Kyle had a great deal to learn about China. A pity he had only weeks in which to do it.

Chapter 3

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Chenqua looked up from his writing table, brush poised in his hand. "The new Fan-qui, Maxwell. What is he like?"