Authors: David Wingrove
The T’ang had summoned all of the household servants who could be spared out on to the terrace. They stood there, crowded into the space in front of the canopy, more than six hundred in all, silent, wine tumblers in hand, waiting for the T’ang to speak.
To one side of this gathering the Master of the Inner Chamber, Nan Ho, stood among the grooms. He had spent the whole day looking into what had disturbed the Lady Fei that morning; interviewing staff and rooting through the tangle of rumour and counter-rumour to sort fact from fancy. And now he knew.
He looked across at her, seeing how sweetly she smiled up at her husband, how warmly he returned her gaze, and shivered, his sense of foreboding strong. In the warm glow of the late afternoon sunlight she seemed particularly beautiful, the simplicity of her attire setting her off, as the shell sets off the oyster. Yet that beauty was badly flawed. In time the mask she wore would slip and all would see her as he saw her now, with knowing eyes. He saw the Prince reach out and take her hand and looked down, knowing where his duty lay.
One thing was paramount; one thing alone – his master’s happiness. And if the Prince’s happiness depended on this weak and foolish woman, then so it had to be, for it was not his place to change his master’s heart, merely to guard it against the worst the world could do. For that reason he had given special instructions to all he had discussed the matter with, warning them that from henceforth the smallest mention of the subject – even the most idle speculation – would be punished with instant dismissal. Or worse. For he was determined that no word of the matter would ever reach the ears of Li Yuan or his father. No. He would let nothing come between the Prince and his happiness.
He sighed and looked back, even as the great T’ang stood and began to speak, his joy like winter sunlight in his wizened face. But for Nan Ho that joy was hollow. Like the thin light, it only seemed to cast its warmth. Beneath the flesh his bones were cold, his feelings in suspense. A son! All about him his fellow servants raised their voices, excited by the news, and he raised his; but he could hear – could
feel
– the falseness in his voice.
Strangely, his thoughts turned to Pearl Heart. Yes, he thought, Pearl Heart would have made a better, finer wife than this false creature. Truer to you. She would have made you strong when you were T’ang. Would have made of you a paragon among rulers.
Yes, but Pearl Heart was only a serving maid – a beast to warm your bed and teach you bedroom manners. What lineage she had was the lineage of unknown parenthood. She could not match the breeding of this whore.
Nan Ho looked up again, seeing once more his Prince’s joy. That, at least, was no counterfeit. And that was why he would hold his tongue and keep this fragile boat afloat. Not for her, for what was she now but a painted thing – a mask to hide corruption – but for Li Yuan.
And then who knew what change a child might bring?
He lifted his head, listening. There was the faint growl of engines in the distance, coming nearer. He turned, looking into the setting sun and saw them – two craft, coming in low from the west. For a moment he was afraid, but then, looking across at his T’ang, he saw how Li Shai Tung looked then nodded to himself, as if he were expecting two such craft to come.
‘Let us drink to the health of my son and his wife,’ Li Shai Tung said, smiling, raising his glass. ‘And to my grandson.
Kan pei!
’
The blessing echoed across the terrace as the craft came on.
Li Shai Tung paused in the coolness of the anteroom and looked about him. He had not been certain they would come, but here they were in answer to his request. Surely that meant something in itself? Surely that meant they were willing to take the first step?
Damn them!
he thought, suddenly angry.
Damn them that I should have to make such deals with their like!
Then he looked down, realizing where his thoughts had led him, for both men, after all, were T’ang, whatever their personal faults.
T’ang! He shivered, wondering what his grandfather would have made of Wang Sau-leyan. Then, clearing his head of such thoughts, he went into his study, taking a seat behind his desk, composing himself, waiting for his Chancellor, Chung Hu-yan, to bring them through.
After long thought, he had decided to pre-empt matters; to make peace before the division in Council grew into enmity. And if that meant swallowing his pride and meeting Wang Sau-leyan and Hou Tung-po halfway, then he would do that. For balance. And to buy time, so that the Seven might be strong again.
Hou Tung-po was not the problem. The young T’ang of South America had merely fallen under his friend’s charismatic spell. No, his only fault was to be weak-minded and impressionable. The real cause of dissent was Wang Hsien’s fourth son, Sau-leyan, the present T’ang of Africa.
He laughed despairingly. How cruelly the times mocked them to make such a man a T’ang – a man who was fit only to be sent below the Net! For two whole cycles they had been strong, their purpose clear, their unity unquestioned, and now...
He shook his head, then let his fingers brush against the two documents he had had prepared. If all went well they would be shreds within the hour, their only significance having lain in the gesture of their destruction.
But would that be enough? Would that satisfy the T’ang of Africa?
Outside, in the corridors, two bells sounded, one low, one high. A moment later Chung Hu-yan appeared in the great doorway, his head lowered.
‘Your guests are here,
Chieh Hsia
.’
‘Good.’ He stood and came round the desk. ‘Show them in, Chung. Then bring us wines and sweetmeats. We may be here some while.’
The Chancellor bowed and backed away, his face registering an understanding of how difficult the task was that lay before his master. A moment later he returned, still bowed, leading the two T’ang into the room.
‘Good cousins,’ Li Shai Tung said, taking their hands briefly. ‘I thank you for sparing the time from busy schedules to come and see me at such short notice.’
He saw how Hou Tung-po looked at once to his friend for his lead; how his welcoming smile faded as he noted the blank expression on Wang Sau-leyan’s face.
‘I would not have come had I not felt it was important to see you, Li Shai Tung,’ Wang answered, staring past him.
Li Shai Tung stiffened, angered not merely by the hostility he sensed emanating from the young T’ang but also by the inference that a T’ang might even consider not coming at his cousin’s urgent wish. Even so, he curbed his anger. This time young Wang would not draw him.
‘And so it is,’ he answered, smiling pleasantly. ‘A matter of the utmost importance.’
Wang Sau-leyan looked about him with the air of a man considering buying something, then looked back at Li Shai Tung. ‘Well? I’m listening.’
It was so rude, so wholly unexpected, that Li Shai Tung found himself momentarily lost for words. Then he laughed.
Is that really the way you want
it?
he thought,
or is that too a pose – designed to throw me from my purpose and win yourself advantage?
He put his hand to his beard thoughtfully. ‘You’re like your father, Sau-leyan. He too could be blunt when it was called for.’
‘My father was a foolish old man!’
Li Shai Tung stiffened, shocked by the young man’s utterance. He looked across at Hou Tung-po and saw how he looked away, embarrassed, then shook his head. He took a breath and began again.
‘The other day, in Council...’
‘You seek to lecture me, Li Shai Tung?’
Li Shai Tung felt himself go cold. Would the young fool not even let him finish a sentence?
He bowed his head slightly, softening his voice. ‘You mistake me, good cousin. I seek nothing but an understanding between us. It seems we’ve started badly, you and I. I sought only to mend that. To find some way of redressing your grievances.’
He saw how Wang Sau-leyan straightened slightly at that, as if sensing concession on his part. Again it angered him, for his instinct was not to accommodate but to crush the arrogance he saw displayed before him, but he kept all sign of anger from his face.
Wang Sau-leyan turned, meeting his eyes directly. ‘A deal, you mean?’
He stared back at the young T’ang a moment, then looked aside. ‘I realize that we want different things, Wang Sau-leyan, but is there not a way of satisfying us both?’
The young man turned, looking across at Hou Tung-po. ‘Is it not as I said, Hou?’ He raised a hand dismissively, indicating Li Shai Tung. ‘The
lao jen
wants to buy my silence. To bridle me in Council.’
Li Shai Tung looked down, coldly furious.
Lao jen
– old man – was a term of respect, but not in the way Wang Sau-leyan had used it. The scornful intonation he had given the word had made of it an insult – an insult that could not be ignored.
‘An offered hand should not be spat upon...’
Wang Sau-leyan looked back at him, his expression openly hostile. ‘What could you offer me that I might possibly want,
lao jen
?’
Li Shai Tung had clenched his hands. Now he relaxed them, letting his breath escape him in a sigh. ‘Why in the gods’ names are you so inflexible, Wang Sau-leyan? What do you want of us?’
Wang Sau-leyan took a step closer. ‘Inflexible? Was I not “flexible” when your son married his brother’s wife? Or by flexible do you really mean unprincipled – willing to do as you and not others wish?’
Li Shai Tung turned sharply, facing him, openly angry now. ‘You go too far! Hell’s teeth, boy!’
Wang Sau-leyan smiled sourly. ‘Boy... That’s how you see me, isn’t it? A boy, to be chastised or humoured. Or locked away, perhaps...’
‘This is not right...’ Li Shai Tung began, but again the young T’ang interrupted him, his voice soft yet threatening.
‘This is a new age, old man. New things are happening in the world. The Seven must change with the times or go under. And if I must break your power in Council to bring about that change, then break it I shall. But do not think to buy or silence me, for I’ll not be bought or silenced.’
Li Shai Tung stood there, astonished, his lips parted.
Break it? Break his power?
But before he could speak there was a knocking at the door.
‘Come in!’ he said, only half-aware of what he said, his eyes still resting on the figure of the young T’ang.
It was Chung Hu-yan. Behind him came four servants, carrying trays. ‘
Chieh Hsia?
’ he began, then stepped back hurriedly as Wang Sau-leyan stormed past him, pushing angrily through the servants, their trays clattering to the tiled floor as they hastened to move back, out of the T’ang’s way.
Hou Tung-po hung back a moment, clearly dismayed by what had happened. Taking a step towards Li Shai Tung, he bowed, then turned away, hurrying to catch up with his friend.
Li Shai Tung stood there a moment longer, then, waving his Chancellor away, went to the desk and picked up one of the documents. He stared at it a moment, his hands trembling with anger, then, one by one, he began to pick off the unmarked seals with his fingernails, dropping them on to the floor beside his feet, until only his own remained at the foot of the page.
He would have offered this today. Would have gladly torn this document to shreds to forge a peaceful understanding. But what had transpired just now convinced him that such a thing was impossible. Wang Sau-leyan would not permit it. Well, then, he would act alone in this.
He turned his hand, placing the dark, dull metal of the ring into the depression at the desk’s edge, letting it grow warm, then lifted his hand and pressed the seal into the wax.
There. It was done. He had sanctioned his son’s scheme. Had given it life.
For a moment longer he stood there, staring down at the document – at the six blank spaces where the seals had been – then turned away, his anger unassuaged, speaking softly to himself, his words an echo of what the young T’ang had said to him.
‘This is a new age, old man. New things are happening in the world.’
He laughed bitterly. ‘So it is, Wang Sau-leyan. So it is. But you’ll not break me. Not while I have breath.’
Karr stood there on the mountainside, shielding his eyes, looking about him at the empty slopes. It was cold, much colder than he’d imagined. He pulled the collar of his jacket up around his ears and shivered, still searching the broken landscape for some sign, some clue as to where to look.
The trouble was, it was just too big a place, too vast. One could hide a hundred armies here and never find them.
He looked down, blowing on his hands to warm them. How easy, then, to hide a single army here?
It had begun two days ago, after he had been to see Tolonen. His report on the Executive killings had taken almost an hour to deliver. Even so, they were still no closer to finding out who had been behind the spate of murders.
Officially, that was. For himself he was certain who was behind it all, and he knew the T’ang and Tolonen agreed. DeVore. It had to be. The whole thing was too neat, too well orchestrated, to be the work of anyone else.
But if DeVore, then why was there no trace of him within the City? Why was there no sign of his face somewhere in the levels? After all, every Security camera, every single guard and official in the whole vast City, was on the lookout for that face.
That absence had nagged at him for weeks, until, coming away from his meeting with Tolonen, he had realized its significance. If DeVore couldn’t be found inside, then maybe he wasn’t inside – maybe he was outside? Karr had gone back to his office and stood there before the map of City Europe, staring at it, his eyes drawn time and again to the long, irregular space at the centre of the City – the Wilds – until he knew for a certainty that was where he’d find DeVore.
There
, somewhere in that tiny space.
But what had seemed small on the map was gigantic in reality. The mountains were overpowering, both in their size and number. They filled the sky from one horizon to the other, and when he turned, there they were again, marching away into the distance, until the whole world seemed but one long mountain range and the City nothing.