Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 (14 page)

Tender Willow
met her eyes momentarily, then looked away, feeling sick. Maybe it
was true. The T'ang
would
do nothing. But this was too much.
The Prince had gone too far this time. Maid or not, thing or not, she
would not allow this to happen to her sister.

"I have
creams," she said gently, looking back, reaching out to touch
and stroke her sister's brow, "ointments to soothe the cuts and
help them heal. Lay still, Little Bee, and I'll bring them. And don't
worry. Everything will be all right."

* *
*

THE SERVANT
BOWED low and backed away, his message delivered. Tsu Ma allowed
himself the slightest smile, then turned, greeting the newcomer.

"You're
late, Li Yuan!" he said sternly, loud enough for the others to
hear, then let the hard lines of his face melt into a broad grin. He
put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Was it hard to get up
this morning?"

"No . . ."
Li Yuan began innocently, then blushed deeply as he saw the verbal
trap and heard the great gust of laughter from the rest of the men on
the great broad balcony. He looked about and saw how each face—even
his father's—was filled with a tolerant, good-natured humor.
All but one. A young, moon-faced man stood alone by the ornamental
rail, beyond the two small groups of men. He was staring back coldly
at Li Yuan, as if irritated by his arrival. At first Li Yuan did not
recognize him. Then he realized who it was and looked down, frowning.
Wang Sau-leyan . . .

Tsu Ma squeezed
his shoulder gently, then lowered his voice. "Anyway, Yuan,
come. The second session is not due to start for another half hour.
There's time for talk and refreshments before then."

He turned and
drew Li Yuan out of the shadows into the warm, midafternoon sunlight,
then began the formality of introducing him to the T'ang and those of
their sons who were attending.

Li Yuan knew
them all personally. All but the last.

"I'm
surprised to find you here, Wang Sau-leyan," he said, as he
lifted his head.

"Surprised?"
Wang Sau-leyan's eyes looked out past Li Yuan's shoulder, an
expression of disdain on his pale round face. "Five years ago,
perhaps. But as things are . . ." He laughed, no warmth in the
laughter. "Well, my brother is unwell. His nerves . . ."

He glanced
briefly at Li Yuan, then seemed to dismiss him, turning to
concentrate his attention on Tsu Ma.

"Have you
sounded the other T'ang about my proposal, Tsu Ma?"

Tsu Ma smiled
pleasantly, concealing whatever he had been thinking. "I have
broached the matter."

"And?"

Tsu Ma laughed
kindly. "Well, it's difficult, cousin. If you had given them
more warning, if they had had just a little more time to consider all
the possible ramifications of your suggestion . . ."

Wang Sau-leyan
interrupted him curtly. "What you mean is, no, they won't debate
it."

Tsu Ma gave the
slightest suggestion of a shrug, the smile remaining on his lips. "It
was felt that it might be—how should I say?—
premature
to press the matter without consideration. But if the T'ang's
regent would like to prepare something for the next meeting."

Wang Sau-leyan
leaned toward Tsu Ma angrily, the words hissing from him coldly.
"Four months from now! That's far too long! Why not today? Why
are they so afraid to listen to new ideas?"

Heads had
turned, but Tsu Ma seemed perfectly unflustered. He smiled, his whole
manner calm and polite. "I understand your impatience, Wang
Sau—"

"Impatience?
You insult me, Tsu Ma! For three hours I have listened patiently
to the words of others. Have attended to their schemes. Yet now, when
I beg my turn to speak, they deny me. Is that impatience?"

Li Yuan had seen
the movements of the muscles in Tsu Ma's cheeks. Had known that, were
he not a T'ang, Tsu Ma would have called the young Prince out and
challenged him to a duel. Yet his control now in the face of such
provocation was magnificent.

Tsu Ma smiled.
"Forgive me, Wang Sau-leyan. My words were ill-chosen. Even so,
it is neither the validity of your views nor the. . .
novelty
of
your words that are at issue here. It is merely our way. All that we
say here, all we decide upon, has a profound effect upon the lives of
those we rule. It would not do to give less than the most serious
consideration to such matters. Ill-considered change benefits no
man."

"You would
lecture me, Tsu Ma?"

"Not at
all. I wish merely to explain the position of my fellow T'ang. These
things are matters of long standing. It is how we transact our
business."

"Then
perhaps it ought to change."

Tsu Ma laughed.
"Maybe so. Perhaps the Prince Regent would put the idea forward
for the next Council to consider?"

Wang Sau-leyan
lifted his chin slightly. "Perhaps . . ." He let his eyes
rest momentarily on Li Yuan, then looked back at Tsu Ma, giving the
slightest inclination of his head. "I thank you for your
efforts, Tsu Ma. If my manner was terse, forgive me. That is
my
way. But do not mistake me. I too have the best interests of
Chung Kuo at heart."

Li Yuan watched
as Wang Sau-leyan crossed the room to greet the young T'ang of South
America, Hou Tung-po, then turned back to Tsu Ma. "Well! What
was
his proposal?"

Tsu Ma smiled.
"Not here," he said quietly. Then he drew Li Yuan aside,
his smile suddenly broader, more natural.

"So . . .
tell me, cousin. How is that beautiful bride of yours?"

* *
*

HELMStadt armory
was a massive hexagonal block of 300 levels, isolated from the stacks
surrounding it by a space fifty
ch'i
in width. That
two-
li
-deep chasm was spanned, at four separate levels, by
three broad connecting bridges, each bridge ending at a huge double
gate, closed against intruders. To each side a whole battery of
weapons—state-of-the-art equipment controlled from the guard
room within— covered these entry points to the complex.

Helmstadt was
considered by its makers to be invulnerable: a fortress second only
to the great nerve center of Bremen. But in less than thirty seconds,
if everything went according to plan, three of its gates would be
open, the approaches unguarded.

DeVore crouched
among his men in a side corridor on the City side of the bridge,
looking down at his handset, watching through the complex's own
Security cameras as his man approached the gate. The man was a
lieutenant in the Armory's backup forces, called in on emergency
standby after half the Armory's regular garrison had been sent to
help quell the riots in Braunschweig, thirty
li
away.

The lieutenant
marched up to the gate, then came to attention, holding his pass up
for inspection. Two of the overhead guns had swiveled about, covering
him; but now, on the computer's recognition signal, they swung back,
focusing once more on the mouth of the corridor beyond.

He moved
forward, placing one eye to an indented pad set into the gate, then
stepped back. Three seconds passed, then a panel irised back, chest
high to him, revealing a keyboard. The lieutenant inserted his card,
then tapped out the coded signal.

At once the
gates began to open.

Elsewhere, at a
gate on the far side of the stack and at another one fifty levels
down, the same thing was happening. Much now depended on timing. If
just one of the gates remained unsecured, the odds would swing
against them.

DeVore waited,
tensed, counting. At thirty the screen of the handset went blank and
he gave the signal. Immediately his men spilled out of the corridor
and began to cross the bridge. If his inside man had failed they
would be cut down instantly. But the guns remained silent. Beyond
them, on the far side of the bridge, the great doors stayed open.

DeVore switched
channels on the handset quickly, making sure. All three were blank,
the transmission signals dead. He smiled, then, tucking the set
inside his one-piece, followed his men out onto the bridge.

Inside, he found
things well advanced. The level had been sealed off and all four of
the big transit elevators secured. On the floor to one side a line of
captives lay facedown, bound hand and foot. Most of the prisoners
were only partly dressed, while two were completely naked. Only the
five-man duty squad was fully dressed, but even they had been too
surprised to put up any fight. Down below his men would be moving
through the levels, securing all major entry points to the arsenal
itself, isolating any remaining defenders scattered about these
uppermost levels.

Much depended
now on how the
Ping Tiao
fared, fifty levels down. If they
could seal off the barracks and hold their gate, all would be well.
But even if they didn't, it would be more their loss than his. He
needed the weapons, it was true, but there was something far more
important here. Something he hadn't bothered to mention in the
briefing.

He turned and
called the lieutenant across to him.

"Which of
these is the Duty Captain?"

The lieutenant
went down the line, then stopped and bent down to touch the back of
one of the half-dressed men.

"Good. Take
him into the guard room."

While two of his
men lifted the Captain under the shoulders and dragged him away,
DeVore turned to Lehmann. Of all of them he looked most at ease in
the simple
Ping Tiao
clothes they were wearing.

"Stefan . .
. Come here."

Lehmann came
across, then followed him into the guard room.

The Captain had
been placed in a chair, his back to them. One of the men was busy
binding him about the chest and legs.

"Who are
you?" he was demanding as DeVore entered. "You're not
Ping
Tiao.
I can see that, despite your clothes and those fish symbols
about your necks. You're too sharp, too well organized. Those scum
wouldn't know how to break into a food store."

"You're
quite right, Captain," DeVore said, coming around and sitting on
the table edge, facing him.

The man's eyes
widened. "DeVore!"

DeVore laughed
softly, then signaled for the two men to leave. When they were gone
he looked past the man at Lehmann, who nodded and turned to lock the
door.

"Good,"
DeVore smiled. "Now to business."

The Captain
glared at him defiantly. "What business? I have no business with
you, DeVore."

"No?"
DeVore reached into the breast pocket of his one-piece and took out
something small and flat and round, its white casing like a lady's
compact. Looking across at the Captain he smiled. "You have a
nice family, Captain Sanders. A beautiful wife, two fine sons, and a
baby girl. Well, she's divine; a pretty little thing."
Sanders watched, horrified, as DeVore opened the casing and
activated the hologram within.

"You have
them?" Sanders looked up at DeVore, swallowing dryly; then
looked back down at the tiny holo of his family, noting the look of
anguish on his wife's face, the way the boys huddled against her.

DeVore smiled.
"As I said. To business."

"What do
you want?"

"Six
numbers and five letters."

Sanders
understood at once. "The elevator . . ."

"Yes."

It was a secret
one-man shaft that went down from this level to the floor of the
stack. He had seen it once, when he had inspected Helmstadt eleven
years earlier, had traveled down and seen first-hand how it was
defended. Now he would use what he knew.

Sanders
hesitated, staring at the hologram. "And if I do ... they'll go
free?"

"Of
course." DeVore snapped the case shut and slipped it back into
the pocket of his one-piece. "You might consider me a traitor,
Captain Sanders, but I'm still a man of my word."

Sanders studied
DeVore a moment longer, doubt warring with fear in his eyes;

then he nodded.
"All right. But it won't help you."

"No?"
DeVore leaned back slightly. "Well, we'll see, eh? Just give me
the code.

I'll do the
rest."

* *
*

FIVE THOUSAND it
to the east, in the great palace at Astrakhan on the shore of the
great inland sea, the Seven were in Council. As was their way, they
sat not at a great table but in low comfortable chairs drawn into a
circle at one end of the room. Their manner seemed casual, as though
they had met as friends to drink and talk of old times; yet here, on
such occasions, all major policy decisions were made. Behind the
T'ang, on simple stools, sat those sons who were attending—four
in all, including Li Shai Tung's son, Li Yuan—while at a desk
behind Tsu Ma sat two scribes. In this, the second session of the
day, they had come at last to the central issue: the matter of the
Confiscations. Tsu Ma was just coming to the end of his speech,
leaning forward in his chair, his words a strong echo of Li Shai
Tung's.

". . . but
that would be folly. There's no better way to put an end to all this
bitterness and rivalry. At one stroke we can stabilize the market and
placate those who, however mistakenly, might otherwise feel
ill-served by our generosity to those who sided with us."

Tsu Ma paused
and looked about the circle of his fellow T'ang, self-assured, his
mouth and eyes forming a smile. "Which is why I have no
hesitation in seconding Li Shai Tung's proposal. The stewardship
system will achieve the end we seek."

There was a
murmur of agreement from the older T'ang, but even as Tsu Ma sat
back, Wang Sau-leyan leaned forward, his round face tensed with
anger, his eyes hard. He spoke bitterly, staring about him angrily,
challengingly.

"Can I
believe what I hear? Have we not just fought a war? A war that by the
power of Heaven we won. If that is so, why should we fear the
bitterness of our enemies? Why should we seek to placate them? Would
they have done the same? No! They would have destroyed us. And what
then? What would they have offered us? Nothing! Not even the dignity
of a decent burial. And yet you sit here worrying about your enemies
and their feelings. Well, I say forget them! We must reward our
friends! Publicly, so all can see. What better way to encourage
support for the Seven?"