This, of course, was understatement for it was not the crumbs that Lo ate but a repast that paralleled the feast itself.
Affably, Lo had taught the Emperor half the trick. When they were together they could both disappear. But when Ming Huang attempted the phenomenon alone, he failed miserably, and miserable he was in truth. He cajoled, commanded, begged, pleaded, threatened, but to no avail. Lo kowtowed, smiled blandly, and shook his head. It was pleasurable to be a necessary tile in the affairs of the Illustrious Emperor. To Lo, Ming Huang was more than "The Son of Heaven." He was security—a thatched roof, a little rice and contentment.
"I think I will have you killed," Ming Huang told him casually.
"In that case," Lo whispered, "I will disappear before the headsman is able to accomplish his unpleasant task. Then, O Illustrious Emperor, it is not I who will lose my head but the Emperor who will lose face. Word will go about on the wings of the wind that he who was Emperor of All Beneath the Sky was not powerful enough to blot out one poor weazened circus magician.
Ming sighed. "Your warning is appreciated. I must devise some other plan."
"Take plenty of time," Lo said, "there is no hurry." Though he spoke lightly, he was saddened. Suddenly the Palace garden had become an unhealthy place. If he remained, he might become an ancient. Better to
leave Changan at once, rejoin the circus though it
