Ice and Fire: Chung Kuo Series (21 page)

‘Well? What have you to say for yourselves?’

Beside them an old man, grey-haired like the elders, his long beard plaited, stood
and addressed the elder.

‘Forgive me,
Hsien
Judge Hong, but might I speak? I am Yung Pi-Chu, Head of the Yung family.’

‘The tribunal waits to hear from you,
Shih
Yung.’

The old man bowed his thanks, then brought his two great-nephews out into the space
in front of the desks and had them strip off their tops. Their backs were striped
from recent punishment. He
made the two youths turn, showing the elders first and then the gathered audience.
Then, bidding them return to their seats, he faced the elders.

‘As you see, respected elders, my great-nephews have been punished for their thoughtlessness.
But the matter of my neighbours’ inconvenience remains. In that regard I propose to
offer
compensation of six hundred yuan, to be shared equally amongst the complainants.’

Hsien
Judge Hong bowed, pleased, then looked out past the old man. ‘Would the complainants
stand.’

Three men got to their feet and identified themselves.

‘Are you willing to accept
Shih
Yung’s generous compensation?’

All three nodded. Two hundred yuan was a very generous figure.

‘Good. Then the matter is settled. You will pay the clerk,
Shih
Yung.’

Without preamble, and before the old man had returned to his seat, another of the
elders began reading out the circumstances of the second case. Again it involved two
young men, but this time
they had been charged with unsocial behaviour. They had vandalized a row of magnolia
trees while drunk.

At the elder’s request the two men stood. They were
Hung Mao
, their dress neat, respectable, their hair cut in the Han style.

‘Well?’ the elder asked. ‘What have you to say for yourselves?’

The two men hung their heads. One looked momentarily at the other, who swallowed,
then looked up, acting as spokesman for the two.

‘Respected elders, we make no excuses for our behaviour and are deeply ashamed of
what we did. We accept full responsibility for our actions and would fully understand
if the respected
elders should punish us to the full severity for what we did. However, we ask you
to consider our past exemplary record and would humbly submit the testimony of our
employers as to our conduct. We
propose to pay for the damage in full and, in respect of the damage to the harmony
of the community we ask that we should be given a month’s community service.’

The elder looked briefly at his fellows, who all nodded, then faced the two youths
again.

‘We have read the submissions of your employers and take into account your past exemplary
conduct. Your shame is clear and your repentance obvious. In the circumstances, therefore,
we
accept your proposals, your term of public service to commence in two weeks’ time.
However, should you come before this tribunal a second time on a similar charge it
will result in immediate
demotion. You understand?’

Both men bowed deeply and looked to each other briefly.

Two more cases followed. The first was an accusation of theft. Two men claimed that
another had robbed them, but a Security film showed they had falsely accused the man.
The two men, protesting
violently, found themselves held by Security guards and sentenced. They were to be
demoted five decks. Amidst wailing from the two men and their families and rejoicing
from the falsely accused man
and his, the permits of the two were taken from them and they were led away.

The fourth case involved a charge of violent assault by a middle-aged man on his wife’s
father. Both families were in court, and for the first time there was real tension
in the air. The
matter was in dispute and it seemed there was no way to resolve it. Both men were
deeply respected members of the community. Both swore their version of events was
the truth. There was no Security
film to solve the matter this time and no impartial witnesses.

The elders conferred a moment, then
Hsien
Judge Hong called the two men forward. He addressed the older of them first.

‘What began this dispute?’

The old man bristled and pointed contemptuously at the younger. ‘He insulted my family.’

Judge Hong was patient. It was, after all, a matter of face. For the next half hour
he slowly, cleverly, drew the threads of circumstance out into the daylight. At the
core of it all lay a
trivial remark – an off-hand comment that the younger man’s wife was like her mother,
idle. It had been said heatedly, carelessly, in the course of a disagreement about
something
entirely different, but the old woman had taken great offence and had called upon
her husband to defend her honour.

‘Do you not both think that things have got out of hand? You,
Shih
T’eng,’ he looked at the younger man, ‘Do you really believe your mother-in-law an
idler? Do you
really have so little respect for your wife’s mother?’

Shih
T’eng lowered his head, then shook it. ‘No, Elder Hong. She is a good, virtuous woman.
What I said, I said heatedly. It was not meant. I…’ He hesitated, then
looked at his father-in-law. ‘I unreservedly apologize for the hurt I caused his family.
I assure him, it was not intended.’

Judge Hong looked at the old man and saw at once, from his bearing, that he was satisfied.
Their dispute was at a close. But the Elder had not finished with the two men. He
leaned forward
angrily.

‘I am appalled that two such good, upright men should have come before me with such
a… a petty squabble. Both of you should feel deeply shamed that you let things come
to
this.’

Both men lowered their heads, chastened. The hall was deathly silent as Judge Hong
continued.

‘Good. In the circumstances I fine you each five hundred yuan for wasting the time
of this tribunal’ He looked at the two men sternly. ‘If I hear any more of this matter
I
shall have you up before us again. And that, I guarantee you,
chun tzu
, will be to neither of your likings.’

The two ‘gentlemen’ bowed deeply and thanked the court, then went meekly to the clerk
to pay their fines.

T’ai Cho turned to his pupil. ‘Well, Kim? Do you still think the Han way so bad?’

Kim looked down, embarrassed. T’ai Cho’s discovery had made things difficult between
them. It would have been easier had he been able to say,
No.
I did not invent the world
you read about
, but sometimes the truth was stranger than a lie and far harder to accept.

‘I have never thought the Han way a bad way, T’ai Cho. Whatever you believe, I find
you a highly civilized people.’

T’ai Cho stared at him a moment, then shrugged and looked back down into the body
of the hall. The crowd had dispersed now and only the five elders remained, talking
amongst themselves and
tying up any remaining items of business. T’ai Cho considered a moment, then smiled
and looked back at Kim.

‘There are no prisons in Chung Kuo. Did you realize that, Kim? If a man wishes to
behave badly he may do so, but not among those who wish to behave well. Such a man
must find his own
level. He is demoted.’

He paused, then nodded to himself. ‘It is a humane system, Kim. The most severe penalties
are reserved for crimes against the person. We might be traders, but our values are
not wholly
venal.’

Kim sighed. It was a direct reference to something in the File – to the greedy and
corrupt
Hoi Po
, or Hoppos, as the Europeans knew them, who had run the Canton trade in the
nineteenth century. He had not meant his comment to stand for all the Han, but saw
how T’ai Cho could easily have mistaken it for such.

Damn Matyas!
he thought.
And damn the man who left the files for me to find and piece together!

T’ai Cho continued. ‘There are exceptions, naturally. Treason against the T’ang, for
instance, is punishable by death. The traitor and all his family, to the third generation.
But ours is a fair system, Kim. It works for those who wish it to work. For others
there are other levels of existence. In Chung Kuo a man must find his own level. Is
that not fair?’

Kim was tempted to argue, to ask whether it was fair for those born into the Net,
or into the Clay like himself, but after all the damage he had done with the File
he felt it would be churlish
to disagree. He looked past T’ai Cho at the elders.

‘What I saw today, that seemed fair.’

T’ai Cho looked at Kim and smiled. It was not a full capitulation but, still, there
was good in the boy. A great deal of good. When he smiled, for instance, it was such
a fierce, sincere
smile – a smile from the very depths of him. T’ai Cho sniffed and nodded to himself.
He realized now he had taken it too personally. Yes, he understood it now. Kim had
been talking of
systems. Of philosophies. He had let the abstract notion carry him away. Even so,
he had been wrong.

‘About the files, Kim. I had to tell the Director.’

Kim looked across at him, his eyes narrowed. ‘And?’

T’ai Cho lowered his head. ‘And he has ordered their destruction, I’m afraid. We must
forget they ever were. Understand?’

Kim laughed, then bowed his head. ‘I am ordered to forget?’

T’ai Cho looked up at him, sudden understanding in his eyes. Then, unexpectedly, he
laughed. ‘Why, yes. I never thought…’

Forget, Kim thought, then laughed again, a deep, hearty laughter. As if I
could
forget.

Chapter 40

THE SCENT OF PLUM BLOSSOM

T
he big man came at Chen like an automaton, swinging and punching, kicking and butting,
making Chen duck and bob and jump to evade the
furious rain of blows. Back and back he was pushed until his shoulders thudded painfully
against the wall. He ducked then kicked off from the wall, head first, aiming for
the stomach of the big
man. But he was too slow. The big man parried him, linking both hands to form a shield
and thrust him down into the floor. Then, before Chen could get his breath, he was
yanked up by one huge hand
and pinned against the wall.

Chen chopped down against the arm desperately, but it was like hitting an iron bar.
The arm quivered but held him firm. Chen swallowed and met the big man’s eyes, conscious
of the power
there, the control.

The big man drew back his free arm, his fist forming a phoenix eye – a
feng huang yen ching
– the knuckle of the first finger extended, ready to strike and shatter
Chen’s skull.

Chen closed his eyes, then laughed. ‘It’s no good, my friend. I have no counter to
your strength and skill.’

Karr held him there a moment longer, his fist poised as if to strike, then relaxed,
letting Chen slide down onto the floor again.

‘Then we must work at it until you do.’

Chen squatted on his haunches, getting his breath. He looked up at Karr, smiling now.
‘I can’t see why. There’s only one of you,
Shih
Karr. And you’re on my side.
For which I thank the gods.’

Karr’s sternness evaporated. ‘Maybe now, Chen, but one day they’ll make machines like
me. I guarantee it. Things like those copies that came from Mars. Even now, I’d
warrant, they’re working on them somewhere. I’d rather find an answer now than wait
for them to come, wouldn’t you?’

They had spent the morning working out extensively, first with stick and sword and
spear –
kuai chang shu, tao shu
and
ch’iang shu
– then with their bare hands,
concentrating on the ‘hand of the wind’
– feng shou kung fu
– style that Karr favoured. It was the first time the two men had seen each other
in several months and
they had enjoyed the friendly tussle, but Karr had not asked Chen here simply to polish
his skills.

After they had showered they sat in the refectory, a large jug of hot sweet almond
ch’a
on the table between them – a delicacy Chen’s wife, Wang Ti, had introduced them
to.

‘How is young Jyan?’ Karr asked. ‘I’ve meant to visit, but the T’ang has kept me busy
these past months.’

Chen smiled and bowed his head slightly, but his eyes lit at the mention of his son.
‘Jyan is well. Only four and already he knows all the stances. You should see how
well he executes the
kou shih.
Such balance he has! And when he kicks he really kicks! You should see the bruises
on my legs!’

Karr laughed. ‘And Wang Ti?’

Chen looked down, his smile broadening. ‘Wang Ti is Wang Ti. Like the sun she is there
each morning. Like the moon she shines brilliantly at night.’

Again the big man laughed, then grew quiet. ‘I hear you have news, Chen. The very
best of news.’

Chen looked up, surprised, then smiled broadly. ‘Who told you,
Shih
Karr? Who ruined my moment? I wanted to tell you myself!’

Karr tilted his head. ‘Well… Let’s just say I heard, neh? You know me, Chen. There’s
little that escapes my notice.’

‘Or your grasp!’

Both men laughed.

‘Anyway,’ said Karr, lifting his bowl in salute. ‘Here’s to your second child! May
he be strong and healthy!’

Chen raised his bowl. ‘Thank you, my friend.’ He sipped, then looked directly at Karr.
‘This is very pleasant,
Shih
Karr. We do this too little these days. But tell me,
why am I here? Is there a job for me? Something you want me to do?’

Karr smiled. ‘There might be.’

‘Might be? Why only might?’

The big man looked down, then reached across and filled his bowl again. ‘I’ve a lead
on DeVore. I think I know where he is.’

Chen laughed, astonished. ‘
DeVore?
We’ve found him?’

‘Maybe. I’ve trailed him three years since he evaded us at Nanking spaceport. Three
years, Chen. I’ve tracked down eight of the ten men who helped him get away that day,
but
not one of them knew a thing, not one of them helped me get a fraction closer. But
now things have changed – now I think I have him.’

‘Then what’s the problem? Why don’t you just go in and finish him off?’

Karr sniffed deeply. ‘It’s difficult. The T’ang wants him alive. He wants DeVore to
stand trial. If possible to provide us with conclusive evidence against the other
Dispersionists.’

‘I see. Even so, what stops you from taking him?’

‘The House. The stink they would make if we went in and took the wrong man.’

Chen shook his head. Still he didn’t understand.

‘The man we believe to be DeVore is an overseer. Understand me, Chen? On one of the
big East European plantations. And that’s a House appointment. If we go barging in
there
mistakenly the Dispersionists would have a field day attacking us for our heavy-handedness.
And things are critical at the moment. The House is finely balanced and the Seven
daren’t risk that
balance, even for DeVore. So we must be certain this Overseer Bergson is our man.’

‘How certain?’

As certain as a retinal print could make us.’

Chen looked down into his
ch’a
and laughed. ‘And how do we do that? Do you think DeVore will sit there calmly while
we check him out?’

Karr gave a tiny laugh and nodded, meeting his friend’s eyes again. ‘Maybe. Maybe
that’s
just
what he’ll do. You see, Chen, that’s where I thought
you
might come in.’

Tolonen watched his nine-year-old daughter run from the sea, her head thrown back,
exhilarated. Behind her the waves broke white on the dark sand. Beyond, the distant
islands
were dim shapes of green and brown in the haze. Jelka stood there at the water’s edge,
smoothing her small, delicate hands through her hair. Long, straight hair like her
mother’s,
darkened by the water. Her pure white costume showed off her winter tan, her body
sleek, childlike.

She saw him there and smiled as she came up the beach towards him. He was sitting
on the wide, shaded patio, the breakfast things still on the table before him. The
Han servant had yet to come
and clear it all away. He set down his book, returning her smile.

‘What’s it like?’

‘Wonderful!’ Her laughter rippled in the air. ‘You should join me. It would do you
good.’

‘Well…’ He shrugged. Maybe he would.

She sprawled in the lounger opposite him. A young animal, comfortable in her body.
Unselfconscious. He looked at her, conscious more than ever that she was the image
of her mother. Especially
now, like this.

He had met her mother on an island similar to here. On the far side of the world from
where he now sat. One summer almost thirty years before.

He had been a General even then. The youngest in the service of the Seven and the
ablest. He had gone to Goteborg to see his father’s sister, Hanna. In those days he
made the trip twice a
year, mindful of the fact that Hanna had looked after him those times his mother had
been ill.

For once he had had time to stay more than a day, and when Hanna had suggested they
fly up to Fredrikstad and visit the family’s summer home, he had agreed at once. From
Fredrikstad they
had taken a motor cruiser to the islands south of the City.

He had thought they would be alone on the island – he, Hanna, and her two sons. But
when the cruiser pulled up at the jetty, he saw that there were others there already.
He had gone
inside, apprehensive because he had not been warned there would be other guests, and
was delighted to find not strangers but his oldest friend, Pietr Endfors, there in
the low-ceilinged front
cabin, waiting to greet him.

Endfors had married a girl from the far north. A cold, elegant beauty with almost-white
hair and eyes like the arctic sea. They had an eight-year-old daughter, Jenny.

It had not happened at once. At first she was merely the daughter of an old friend;
a beautiful little girl with an engaging smile and a warmth her mother seemed to lack.
From the start,
however, she had taken to him and by that evening was perched immovably in his lap.
He liked her from that first moment, but even he could not tell how attached he would
become.

When Pietr and his wife had died eight years later, he had become Jenny’s guardian.
Four years later he had married her. He had been thirty years her senior.

He returned from the bitter-sweet reverie and focused on his daughter.

‘You’ve not been listening to a word, have you?’

He laughed and shook his head. ‘Just reminiscing.’ He sat up in his chair and reached
across to feel the
ch’a
kettle. It was lukewarm. He grunted, then shouted for the
servant.

‘I was just saying. We ought to go home. It seems time. Don’t you think?’

He looked sharply at her, then, confused by what she had said, shook his head. It
was not so much a negative as an acknowledgment that he had not considered the matter.
Go home? Why? Why was
it time?

‘Are you tired of all this?’ he asked, almost incredulous. She seemed so happy here.

‘I’m happy enough. But it’s not me I’m thinking of, it’s you. You’re going soft here.
Wasting away.’ She looked up at him, concern in her young eyes.
‘I want you to be as you were. I don’t want you to be like this. That’s all…’

He couldn’t argue with that. He felt it in himself. Each day it seemed to get worse.
Sitting here with nothing to do. Ordered to do nothing. He felt more and more restless
as the months
passed; more and more impotent. That was the worst of exile.

‘What can I do? I
have
to be here.’

She could feel the bitterness in his voice, see the resignation in his hunched shoulders.
It hurt her to be witness to such things. But for once she could help him.

‘Where is that bloody servant!’ he cried out, anger and frustration boiling over.
She waited for him to finish, then told him that she had sent the servant away earlier.

‘I want to talk to you.’

He looked at her, surprised by the grown-up tone of her voice. ‘Talk, eh? What about?’

She looked away, stared out at the sea, the distant islands of the Kepulauan Barat
Daya. ‘This is beautiful, isn’t it? The colours of the sky and sea. But it’s the wrong
kind
of beauty. It doesn’t…’ She struggled for some way of expressing what she was feeling,
then shook her head.

He knew what she meant, though. It
was
beautiful. But it was a soft, pearled beauty. It didn’t touch his soul the way the
fjords, the mountains touched him. The unvarying warmth,
the mists, the absence of seasonal change – these things irked him.

‘I wish…’ he began, then shook his head firmly. There was no use wishing. Li Shai
Tung had exiled him here. He would live out his days on this island.

‘What?’ she asked. She had stood and was waiting at his side, looking at him, her
head on the level of his own.

He reached out a hand and caressed her cheek, then let his hand rest on her bare shoulder.
The skin was cool and dry.

‘Why should I wish for anything more than what I have?’ He frowned, thinking that
he might have been killed for what he had done; and then she would have been alone,
an orphan. Or
worse. He had acted without understanding that. In his anger he had gambled that the
T’ang would act as he had. Yet it pained him greatly now to think what might have
been: the hurt he could
have caused her – maybe even her death.

She seemed to sense this. Leaning forward she kissed his brow, his cheek. ‘You did
what you had to. Li Shai Tung understood that.’

He laughed at that. ‘Understood? He was furious!’

‘Only because he had to be.’

He removed his hand, leaned back in his chair. ‘What is this, Jelka? What have you
heard?’

She laughed. ‘You were sleeping when he came. I didn’t want to disturb you. I know
how bad the nights are for you.’

He reached out. ‘Who? Who has come?’

She reached up and took his hands from where they lay on her shoulders, then held
them, turning them over. Strong, fine hands.

‘Well?’ he prompted, impatient now, but laughing too. ‘Tell me!’

‘General Nocenzi.’

He sat back heavily.

‘He’s in the house. Shall I bring him?’

He looked up at her distractedly, then nodded. ‘Yes. It will be good to see Vittorio
again.’

He watched her go, then let his gaze drift out over the surface of the sea. Nocenzi.
It could mean only one thing. They had come for his head.

Friends had kept him informed. They had told him of the growing demand for ‘justice’
in the Lehmann case. Lately there had been rumours that the House was about to indict
him for the
murder. Well, now the T’ang had succumbed to that pressure. And he, Tolonen, would
be made to account for what he’d done.