Authors: David Wingrove
Chapter 50
SHADOWS
T
olonen sat at his daughter’s bedside, his eyes brimming with tears.
‘It was all a terrible mistake, my love. They were after me.’
Jelka shook her head, but a huge lump sat in her throat at the thought of what had happened.
She had spent the last ten days in bed, suffering from shock, the after-reaction fierce, frightening. It had felt like she was going mad. Her father had sat with her through the nights, holding her hands, comforting her, robbing himself of sleep to be with her and help her through the worst of it.
Now she felt better, but still it seemed that everything had changed. Suddenly, hideously, the world had become a mask – a paper-thin veil behind which lay another nightmare world. The walls were no longer quite as solid as they’d seemed. Each white-suited attendant seemed to conceal an assassin dressed in black.
It made it no better for her that they had been after her father. No, that simply made things worse. For she’d had vivid dreams – dreams in which he was dead and she had gone to see him in the T’ang’s Great Hall, laid out in state, clothed from head to foot in the white cloth of death.
She stared at him a moment, her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she saw through the flesh to the bone itself, and while he met her staring eyes unflinchingly, something in the depths of him squirmed and tried to break away.
They had been
Ping Tiao
. A specially trained cell. But not Security trained, thank the gods.
He looked down at where his hands held those of his daughter. The audacity of the
Ping Tiao
in coming for him had shaken them. They knew now that the danger was far greater than they had estimated. The War had unleashed new currents of dissent: darker, more deadly currents that would be hard to channel.
His own investigations had drawn a blank. He did not know how they would have known his household routines. Siang? It was possible, but now that Siang was dead he would never know. And if not Siang, then who?
It made him feel uneasy – an unease he had communicated to Li Shai Tung when they were alone together. ‘You must watch yourself,
Chieh Hsia
,’ he had said. ‘You must watch those closest to you. For there is a new threat. What it is, I don’t exactly know. Not yet. But it exists.’
Bombs and guns. He was reaping the harvest he had sown. They all were. But what other choice had they?
To lie down and die.
Tolonen looked at his daughter, sleeping now, and felt all the fierce warmth of his love for her rise up again. A vast tide of feeling. And with it came an equally fierce pride in her. How magnificent she had been! He had seen the replay from the Security cameras and witnessed the fast, flashing deadliness of her.
He relinquished her hand and stood, stretching the tiredness from his muscles.
They would come again. He knew it for a certainty. They would not rest now until they had snatched his breath from him. Instinct told him so. And though it was not his way to wait passively, in this he found himself helpless, unable to act. They were like shadows. One strove to fight them and they vanished. Or left a corpse, which was no better.
No, there was no centre to them. Nothing substantial for him to act against. Only an idea. A nihilistic concept. Thinking this, he felt his anger rise again, fuelled by a mounting sense of impotence.
He would have crushed them if he could. One by one. Like bugs beneath his heel. But how did one crush shadows?
Fei Yen jumped down from her mount, letting the groom lead it away, then turned to face the messenger.
‘Well? Is he home?’
The servant bowed low, offering the sealed note. Fei Yen snatched it from him impatiently, moving past him as if he were not there, making her way towards the East Palace. As she walked she tore at the seal, unfolding the single sheet. As she’d expected, it was from Li Yuan. She slowed, reading what he had written, then stopped, her teeth bared in a smile. He would be back by midday, after four days away on his father’s business. She looked about her at the freshness of the morning, then laughed and, pulling her hair out of the tight bun she had secured it in to ride, shook her head. She would prepare herself for him. Would bathe and put on fresh clothes. The new silks he had sent her last week.
She hurried on, the delights of her early morning ride and the joy of his return coursing like twin currents in her blood.
She was about to go into her rooms when she heard noises further down the corridor, in the direction of Li Yuan’s private offices. She frowned. That part of the East Palace was supposed to be out of bounds while Li Yuan was away. She took two steps down the corridor, then stopped, relieved. It was only Nan Ho. He was probably preparing the offices for his master’s return. She was about to turn away, not wishing to disturb the Master of the Inner Chamber, when she realized what it was she had found strange. There had been voices...
She walked towards him; was halfway down the corridor when he turned.
‘Lady Fei...’
She could see at once that he had not expected her. But it was more than that. His surprise in finding her there had not turned to relief as, in normal circumstances, it ought. No. It was almost as if he had something to hide.
‘You know Prince Yuan will be here in two hours, Master Nan?’
He bowed his head deeply. ‘He sent word, my lady. I was preparing things for him.’
‘My husband is fortunate to have such an excellent servant as you, Master Nan. Might I see your preparations?’
He did not lift his head, but she could sense the hesitation in him and knew she had been right.
‘You wish to
see
, my lady?’
‘If you would, Master Nan. I promise not to disturb anything. I realize my husband has his set ways, and I’d not wish to cause you further work.’
‘They are but rooms...’
‘But rooms are like clothes. They express the man. Please, Master Nan, indulge my curiosity. I would like to see how Prince Yuan likes his room to be. It would help me as a wife to know such a thing.’
Nan Ho lifted his head and met her eyes. ‘My lady, I...’
‘Is there some secret, Master Nan? Something I should know?’
He bowed his head, then backed away, clearly upset by her insistence. ‘Please, my lady. Follow me. But remember, I am but the Prince’s hands.’
She hesitated, her curiosity momentarily tinged with apprehension. What could have flustered the normally imperturbable Nan Ho? Was it some awful thing? Some aspect of Li Yuan he wanted to keep from her? Or was it, instead, a surprise present for her? Something that, in insisting she see it, would spoil Yuan’s plans?
For a moment she wondered whether she should withdraw. It was not too late. Li Yuan would hate it if she spoiled his surprise. But curiosity had the better of her. She followed Master Nan, waiting as he unlocked the great double doors again and pushed them open.
She walked through, then stopped dead, her mouth fallen open in surprise.
‘You!’
The two girls had risen from the couch at her entrance. Now they stood there, heads bowed, hands folded.
She turned, her face dark with anger. ‘What is the meaning of this, Master Nan? What are these creatures doing here?’
Nan Ho had kept his head lowered, bracing himself against her reaction. Even so, the savagery of her words surprised him. He swallowed and, keeping his head low, looked past her at the girls.
‘My master said to bring them here this morning. I was to—’
Her shriek cut him off. ‘Do you expect me to believe that, Nan Ho? That on the morning of his return my husband would have two such...
low
sorts brought to him?’ She shuddered and shook her head, her teeth bared. ‘No... I don’t know what your plan is, Master Nan, but I know one thing, I can no longer trust you in your present position.’
He jerked his head up, astonished, but before he could utter a word in his defence, Fei Yen had whirled about and stormed across to where the two girls stood.
‘And you!’ she began. ‘I know your sort! Turtles eating barley, that’s what you are! Good-for-nothings! You hope to rise on your backs,
neh
?’
The last word was spat out venomously. But Fei Yen was far from finished.
‘You! Pearl Heart... that’s your name, isn’t it?’
Overwhelmed by the viciousness of the attack, Pearl Heart could only manage a slight bob of her head. Her throat was dry and her hands trembled.
‘I know why you’re here. Don’t think I’m blind to it. But the little game’s over, my girl. For you and your
pimp
here.’ Fei Yen shuddered, pain and an intense anger emphasizing every word. ‘I know you’ve been sleeping with my husband.’
Pearl Heart looked up, dismayed, then bowed her head quickly, frightened by the look in Fei Yen’s eyes.
‘Well? Admit it!’
‘It is true, my lady...’ she began, meaning to explain, but Fei Yen’s slap sent her sprawling back on to the couch. She sat, looking up at Fei Yen, her eyes wide with shock. Sweet Rose was sobbing now, her whole frame shaking.
Fei Yen’s voice hissed at her menacingly. ‘Get out... All of you ...
Get out!
’
Pearl Heart struggled up, then stumbled forward, taking her sister’s arm as she went, almost dragging her from the room, her own tears flowing freely now, her sense of shame unbearable. Li Yuan ... How her heart ached to see him now; to have him hold her and comfort her. But it was gone. Gone forever. And nothing but darkness lay ahead.
Back in her rooms, Fei Yen stood there, looking about her sightlessly, the blackness lodged in her head. For a while she raged, inarticulate in her grief, rushing about the room uncontrollably, smashing and breaking, the pent-up anger pouring out of her in grunting, shrieking torrents. Then she calmed and sat on the edge of the huge bed, her respiration normalizing, her pulse slowing. Again she looked about her, this time with eyes that moved, surprised, between the broken shapes that lay littered about the room.
She wanted to hurt him. Hurt him badly, just as he had hurt her. But a part of her knew that was not the way. She must be magnanimous. She must swallow her hurt and pay him back with loving kindness. Her revenge would be to enslave him. To make him need her more than he needed anything in the whole of Chung Kuo. More than life itself.
She shuddered then gritted her teeth, forcing down the pain she felt. She would be strong. As she’d been when Han had died. She would deny her feelings and will herself to happiness. For the sake of her sons.
She went to the mirror, studying herself. Her face was blotchy, her eyes puffed from crying. She turned and looked about her, suddenly angered by the mess she had made – by her momentary lapse of control. But it was nothing she could not set right. Quickly she went into the next room, returning a moment later with a small linen basket. Then, on her hands and knees, she worked her way methodically across the floor, picking up every last piece of broken pottery or glass she could find. It took her much longer than she had thought, but it served another purpose. By the time she had finished she had it clearly in her mind what she must do.
She took the basket back into the dressing room and threw a cloth over it, then began to undress, bundling her discarded clothes into the bottom of one of the huge built-in cupboards that lined the walls. Then, naked, she went through and began to fill the huge, sunken bath.
She had decided against the new silks. Had decided to keep it as simple as she could. A single vermilion robe. The robe she had worn that first morning, after they had wed.
While the water steamed from the taps, she busied herself at the long table beneath the bathroom mirror, lifting the lids from the various jars and sniffing at them until she found the one she was searching for. Yes... She would wear nothing but this. His favourite.
Mei
hua.
Plum blossom.
She looked at her reflection in the wall-length mirror, lifting her chin. Her eyes were less red than they’d been, her skin less blotchy. She smiled, hesitantly at first then more confidently. It had been foolishness to be so jealous. She was the match of a thousand serving girls.
She nodded to her image, determined, her hands smoothing her flanks, moving slowly upward until they cupped and held her breasts, her nipples rising until they stood out rigidly. She would bewitch him, until he had eyes for nothing but her. She remembered how he had looked at her – awed, his eyes round in his face – and laughed, imagining it. He would be hers. Totally, utterly hers.
Even so, she would have her vengeance on the girls. And on that pimp, Nan Ho. For the hurt they had caused her.
Her smile softened. And after she had made love to him, she would cook for him. A recipe her grandmother had left to her. Yes, while he slept she would prepare it for him. As a wife would.
Li Yuan yawned and stretched as the craft descended, then looked across. His personal secretary, Chang Shih-sen, was gathering his papers together, softly humming to himself.
‘We’ve got through a lot of work in the last four days, Chang,’ he said, smiling. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard.’
Chang smiled back at him, inclining his head slightly. ‘It is good to work hard, my lord.’
‘Yes...’ Li Yuan laughed, feeling the craft touch down beneath him. ‘But today we rest, neh? I won’t expect to see you until tomorrow morning.’
Chang bowed low, pleased by his master’s generosity. ‘As the Prince wishes.’
He turned back, looking through the portal at the activity in the hangar. A welcoming committee of four servants, led by Nan Ho, was waiting to one side, while the hangar crew busied themselves about the craft. Chang was right. He felt good despite his tiredness. He had spent more than eighty hours scanning files and interviewing, and now all but two of the places on the Project were filled. If his father agreed, they could go ahead with it within the week.
For one day, however, he would take a break from things. Would set all cares aside and devote himself to Fei Yen.