Ice and Fire: Chung Kuo Series (35 page)

The room was cold, the fire empty. Li Shai Tung looked about him, then turned and
smiled at his son. ‘Here, come help me, Yuan. We’ll make a fire and sit about it,
you there, I
here.’ He pointed to the two big armchairs.

Li Yuan hesitated, surprised by his father’s suggestion. He had never seen the T’ang
do anything but be a T’ang. Yet, kneeling there, helping him make up the fire, then
leaning
down to blow the spark into a flame, it felt to him as if he had always shared this
with his father. He looked up, surprised to find his father watching him, smiling,
his hands resting loosely on
his knees.

‘There. Now let’s talk, neh?’

The fire crackled, the flames spreading quicker now. In its flickering light the T’ang
sat, facing his son.

‘Well, Yuan? You say you had a dream?’

Much of the early part of the dream evaded him now that he tried to recall its details,
and there were some things – things related too closely to Fei Yen and his feelings
for her –
that he kept back from the telling. Yet the dream’s ending was still vivid in his
mind and he could feel that strange, dark sense of terror returning as he spoke of
it.

‘I was high up, overlooking the plain where the City had been. But the City was no
longer there. Instead, in its place, was a mountain of bones. A great mound of sun-bleached
bones, taller
than the City, stretching from horizon to horizon. I looked up and the sky was strangely
dark, the moon huge and full and bloated, blazing down with a cold, fierce radiance
as though it were the
sun. And as I looked a voice behind me said, “This is history.” Yet when I turned
there was no one there, and I realized that the voice had been my own.’

He fell silent, then looked down with a shudder, overcome once more by the power of
the dream.

Across from him the T’ang stretched his long body in the chair, clearly discomfited
by what his son had seen. For a time he too was silent, then he nodded to himself.
‘You dream of
Tsao Ch’un, my son. Of the terrible things he did. But all that is in our past now.
We must learn from it. Learn not to let it happen again.’

Li Yuan looked up, his eyes burning strangely. ‘No… It’s not the past. Can’t you see
that, father? It is what we are, right now. What we represent. We are the custodians
of that great white mountain – the gaolers of Tsao Ch’un’s City.’

Normally Li Shai Tung would have lectured his son about his manners, the tone in which
he spoke, yet this was different: this was a time for open speaking.

‘What Tsao Ch’un did was horrible. Yet think of the alternatives, Yuan, and ask yourself
what else could he have done? Change had become an evil god, destroying all it touched.
Things seemed beyond redemption. There was a saying back then which expressed the
fatalism people felt –
E hsing hsun huan.
Bad nature follows a cycle; a vicious circle, if you like.
Tsao Ch’un broke that circle – fought one kind of badness with another and ended the
cycle. And so it has been ever since. Until now, that is, when others wish to come
and set the Wheel
in motion once again.’

Li Yuan spoke softly, quietly. ‘Maybe so, father, yet what Tsao Ch’un did is still
inside us. I can see it now. My eyes are opened to it. We are the creatures of his
environment
– the product of his uncompromising thought.’

But Li Shai Tung was shaking his head. ‘No, Yuan. We are not what he created. We are
our own men.’ He paused, staring at his son, trying to understand what he was feeling
at that
moment, recollecting what he himself had felt. But it was difficult. He had been much
older when he had learned the truth of things.

‘It is true, Yuan – the world we find ourselves born into is not what we would have
it be in our heart of hearts, yet it is surely not so awful or evil a world as your
dream would
have it? True, it might limit our choices, but those choices are still ours to make.’

Li Yuan looked up. ‘Then why do we keep the truth from them? What are we afraid of?
That it might make them think other than we wish them to think? That they might make
other choices than
the ones we wish them to make?’

The T’ang nodded, firelight and shadow halving his face from brow to chin. ‘Perhaps.
You know the saying, Yuan.
To shuo hua pu ju shao.’

Li Yuan shivered, thinking of the moonlight on the garden. He knew the saying:
Speech is silver, silence is golden.
Sun and moon again. Silver and gold. ‘Maybe so,’ he said,
yet it seemed more convenient than true.

‘In time, Yuan, you will see it more clearly. The shock, I know, is great. But do
not let the power of your dream misguide you. It was, when all’s considered, only
a
dream.’

Only a dream.
Li Yuan looked up, meeting his father’s eyes again. ‘Maybe so. But tell me this,
father, are we good or evil men?’

Chen looked up from where he was sitting on the stool outside the equipment barn to
see whose shadow had fallen across him.

‘Do I know you?’

The three Han had ugly, vicious expressions on their faces. Two of them were holding
thick staves threateningly in both hands. The third – the one whose shadow had fallen
across him
– brandished a knife. They were dressed in the same drab brown as himself.

‘Ah…’ Chen said, seeing the likeness in their faces. So the thief had brothers. He
got up slowly. ‘You have a score to settle?’

The momentary smile on the eldest brother’s face turned quickly to a scowl of hatred.
Chen could see how tense the man was and nervous, but also how determined.

Chen let the hoe he had been repairing drop, then stood there, empty-handed, facing
the man, watching him carefully now, knowing how dangerous he was. A careless, boastful
man would often talk
too much or betray himself into ill-considered movements, but these three were still
and silent. They had not come to talk, or to impress him. They had come for one thing
only. To kill him.

He glanced across and saw, in the distance, outlined against the lip of the irrigation
dyke, the Overseer’s man, Teng. So. That was how they knew. He looked back, weighing
the three up,
letting his thoughts grow still, his breathing normalize. His pulse was high, but
that was good. It was a sign that his body was preparing itself for the fight to come.

‘Your brother was a thief,’ he said, moving to his right, away from the stool, putting
the sun to one side of him.

The eldest made a sound of disgust.

Yes,
thought Chen,
I understand you. And maybe another time, in different circumstances, I’d have let
you kill me for what I’ve done. But there are more important things
just now. Like DeVore. Though you’d not understand that, would you?

Chen saw the man’s movement a fraction of a second before he made it, the sudden action
betrayed by a tensing of the muscles, a slight movement in his eyes. Chen bunched
his fist and
knocked the big knife aside, then followed through with a kick to the man’s stomach
that left him on his knees, badly winded.

The other two yelled and charged him, their staves raised.

Chen moved quickly to one side, making them wheel about, one of the brothers momentarily
hidden behind the other. Taking his opportunity, Chen ducked and moved inside the
stave’s wild
swing, his forearm lifting the man’s chin and hurling him back into his brother.

At once Chen was standing over them, kicking, punching down at them, his breath hissing
from him sharply with each blow, until the two men lay there, unconscious.

The eldest had rolled over, groaning, still gasping for his breath. As Chen turned,
facing him again, his eyes widened with fear and he made to crawl away. But Chen simply
stood there, his hands
on his hips, getting his breath, and shook his head.

‘I’m sorry. I did what I had to do. Do you understand me? I have no quarrel with you.
But if you come again – if
any
of you come again – I will kill you
all.’

Chen bowed then walked back to the barn, picking up the hoe. Only then did he see
Pavel, watching from the doorway.

‘You saw, then, Pavel?’

The young man’s eyes were wide with astonishment. ‘I saw,
Shih
Tong, but I’m not sure I believe what I saw. I thought they’d kill you.’

Chen smiled. ‘Yes. And so did Teng. I must deal with him, before he can tell others.’

Pavel’s eyes narrowed, then, as if he had made up his mind about something, he took
Chen’s arm and began to turn him about.

Chen shook him off. ‘What are you doing?’

Pavel stared at him. ‘You said you must deal with Teng. Well, he’s gone already. As
soon as he saw what you could do. If you want to catch him you had best come with
me. I know a
quicker way.’

Chen laughed. A quicker way?’

Pavel grabbed his arm again. ‘Yes. Now don’t argue with me. Come on! We’ll cut the
bastard off.’

At the lip of the dyke, Pavel didn’t stop but went over the top and down. Chen followed,
splashing through the shallow water, then following Pavel up the other bank, pulling
himself up a
rough, indented ladder which had been cut into the side of the dyke.

‘Teng will go by the bridges,’ Pavel explained breathlessly as they ran across the
field towards the intersection. ‘He won’t want to get his uniform muddy. But that
means
he has to go along and across. We, however, can go diagonally. We can catch him at
the fourth west bridge.’

‘Where’s Chang Yan?’ Chen asked, not slowing his pace. ‘I thought those two bastards
were inseparable!’

‘Chang Yan’s on leave in Lodz. Which is where Teng should be. But it looks like he
wanted to see the outcome of his trouble-making before he went.’

Yes
, thought Chen.
But DeVore’s behind it. I knew it. I felt he was up to something the other evening.

The fourth west bridge consisted of four long, thick planks of wood, embedded into
the earth on either side of the irrigation canal. Chen waited, hidden among the man-tall
stand of super-wheat
to one side of the path, while Pavel stayed down below, in the water beneath the bridge.

Teng was wheezing when he came to the bridge. He slowed and wiped his brow, then came
out onto the wooden planking.

‘Teng Fu,’ said Chen, stepping out onto the pathway. ‘How fortunate to meet you here.’

Teng blinked furiously, then turned, looking about him. The sun was low now. The fields
on every side were empty.

He turned back, facing Chen, slipping the rifle from his shoulder and holding it out
before him threateningly. But it was clear he was shaken.

‘Get out of my way, Tong Chou! I’ll kill you if you don’t!’

Chen laughed scornfully. ‘It’s Chen, by the way. Kao Chen. But that aside, why should
I move? You’ve seen too much, Teng. If I let you go, you’ll say what you’ve
seen, and I can’t have that. Anyway, it was you set those poor bastards onto me, wasn’t
it? You who told them. Well… this will be for them. And for their brother. Oh, and
for
Pavel, too.’

Teng turned too late. Pavel had climbed the bank and come up behind him. As the Overseer’s
man turned, hearing someone behind him, Pavel launched himself forward and pushed.
Teng fell
awkwardly, going headlong into the shallow stream, the gun falling away from him.

Chen ran forward, then jumped from the bridge into the water. Pavel followed him a
fraction of a second later.

Teng rolled over, lifting his head from the water, spluttering, his eyes wide with
surprise, only to find himself thrust down again. He was a big man and struggled hard,
straining with his arms
and neck to free himself, his feet kicking desperately beneath him, but the two men
gritted their teeth and held him down beneath the water until, after one final, violent
spasm of activity,
Teng’s body went limp.

Pavel shuddered, then stood up in the water, looking down at what he had done.

‘Gods…’ he said softly. ‘We’ve killed him.’

‘Yes,’ said Chen, steeling himself, recognizing the pain in the young man’s twisted
face. Oh, Pavel had hated him beforehand – had hated him even enough to kill him
– but now that it was done the boy saw Teng clearer, as another man. A man he had
robbed of life. ‘Come on,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘We have to hide the
body.’

For a moment Pavel just stared at the lifeless body that now floated, face down, in
the shallow water; then he seemed to come to himself. He swallowed deeply, then looked
back at Chen.
‘What?’

‘We have to hide the body,’ Chen repeated, careful to be gentle with the boy. ‘Do
you know a place, Pavel?’

The light was failing fast. They would not be missed at once, but if they delayed
too long…

Pavel shivered again, then nodded. ‘Yes. There’s a place. Farther along.’

They towed the heavy body between them, pulling it by its arms, moving as quickly
as they could against the resistance of the water, until they came to a place where
the reeds on one side of the
canal threatened to spill right across and block the stream. There Pavel halted.

‘Here,’ he said, indicating a vague patch of darkness against the bank.

Chen heaved the body round, then, with Pavel’s help, moved it in amongst the tall
reeds. There, behind the cover of the reeds, a small cave had been carved out of the
bank. Inside, it was
curiously dry. Small niches, like tiny, primitive ovens, had been cut into the walls
on either side. Pavel turned and reached into one. A moment later, Chen saw the flicker
of a flint.

Pavel turned, a lighted candle in his hand, and looked down at the body floating there
between them.

‘I don’t like it, but it’s the only place.’

Chen looked about him, astonished. The walls were painted, red and green and yellow,
the openings lined with coloured tiles. Tiny statues were placed in each of the niches,
about which were
placed small pieces of paper and the remains of tiny finger candles. It was a shrine.
A secret shrine.