Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 (62 page)

Kim felt a
strange ripple of excitement—or was it fear?—move down
his spine. He looked at Hammond again.

"What's her
name?"

Hammond frowned.
"I'm not sure. Jukka, or something."

"Jelka,"
one of them corrected him. "Jelka Tolonen."

Jelka.
He
shivered, then looked down. Yes, the name fitted her perfectly. Like
something out of myth.

"What's
going on here?"

Kim looked up,
meeting Spatz's eyes. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at
all."

"Good. Then
you can go now, Ward. I've no further use for you."

He bowed
slightly, keeping all expression from his face, but inwardly he felt
elated. Spatz had had no choice other than to take him into the
laboratories for the duration of the Marshal's visit and Kim had made
the most of it, calling up files and asking questions until he was as
fully briefed of developments as the best of them. Yet as he walked
back down the corridor to his room he found himself thinking not of
the Project but of the girl. Who was she? What was she like? What did
she sound like when she spoke? How did her face change when she
laughed?

He paused at his
door, thinking of how she had stood there at her father's side, her
deeply blue eyes taking in everything. And then, briefly, her eyes
had met his own and she had frowned. As if ...

He shivered,
then shook his head, palming the lock and stepping inside as the door
irised open. No, it wasn't possible. It was only his imagination. And
yet— well, for the briefest moment it had seemed that she had
seen
him. Not just the outward form of him, but his deeper
self.

He smiled,
dismissing the thought, then sat down on his bed, looking about him.
What would you make of this, Jelka Tolonen? he wondered. It would be
too alien, I'm sure. Too dull. Too esoteric.

Yes, for she was
not of his kind. She was First Level, powerful, sophisticated, rich.
No doubt she was in love with fine clothes and dances, opera and
gallant young officers. It was ridiculous even to think . . .

And yet he
was
thinking it.

For a moment he
closed his eyes, seeing her again: so straight and tall and perfectly
proportioned, her skin so pure and white, her hair like gold and
silver blended, her eyes— He caught his breath, remembering her
eyes. Yes. Like something out of myth.

TSU
MA STOOD on the grassy slope, looking south, the ruined monastery
above him, at his back. He could see her in the distance, a tiny
figure beneath the huge, cloudless sky, spurring her horse on along
the narrow track between the rocks. For a brief moment he lost sight
of her behind the great tor at the valleys head; then she reappeared,
closer now, her dark hair streaming behind her as she leaned forward
in the saddle, climbing the long slope.

He looked down,
sighing. They had met here several times these last few weeks, and
every time they had ended by making love despite his resolve to cast
her off and mend his ways. But this time it was different. This time
he had to end it.
To
break off with her, before they were
discovered.

He was still in
love with her; there was no denying that. But love was not enough, he
knew that now. For this love—a love that had begun in passion
and bewilderment—had now become a torment, keeping him from
sleep, distracting him at every moment, until he felt he had to halt
it or go mad. He could not now meet with Li Yuan or his father
without wanting to throw himself at their feet and beg forgiveness
for the wrong he had done them both.

So now an end to
it. While it was yet within his power to end it.

He watched her
come on, now hearing her voice encouraging the horse, seeing how she
sat up in the saddle looking for him, then raised a hand in greeting.
He returned the gesture uncertainly, steeling himself against the
thoughts that came. Last time they had climbed the hill together,
hand in hand, then gone into the ruined temple, and Jain on his cloak
for three hours, naked, their eyes, their hands and lips, feasting
upon each other's bodies. The sweetness of the memory ate at him now,
like sugar on a tooth. He groaned and clenched his fists against it.
Even so, his sex stirred and his heart began to hammer in his chest.

He had never
known how dreadful love could be, had never imagined how the heart
could grieve and yet exult at the same time. But so his did.

She drew nearer,
her horse laboring under her, snorting, straining to make the steep
gradient. Seeing her thus reminded him of that first time, when she
had ridden past him, ignoring his offer of help. Back then he had
been thrilled by her defiance, for all he'd said to her of taking
care; but now that recklessness in her seemed less attractive. Was
the very thing, perhaps, that forged his determination to bring
things to a head.

"Tsu Ma!"

She jumped down
and ran to him, throwing her arms about him, her lips seeking his;
but he held still against her, as if made of stone. She drew back,
astonished, her eyes wide, looking up into his face.

"What is
it, my love? What's happened?"

He looked down
at her, his hands trembling now, her beauty, the warmth of her hands
where they touched him, almost robbing him of his senses. Her perfume
was intoxicating, her eyes like oceans in which a man could drown.

"I love
you," he began, the full depth of what he felt for her
concentrated in those few words.

"I know,"
she interrupted him, pressing closer, relief flooding her face. "And
I've news—"

"Hear me
out!" he said harshly, then relented, his hand brushing against
her face, his voice softening. "Please, my love, hear me out.
This is difficult enough. . ."

Her face changed
again. She tried to smile, then frowned. "Difficult?"

"Yes. I..."
He swallowed. Never had anything been so difficult as this. Not even
the death of his father and the ritual killing of the "copy"
had prepared him for the hardship of this moment. "I . . ."

He fell silent.
Even now it was not said. Even now he could take her in his arms and
carry her up into the temple rooms and lay her on his cloak. Even now
he could have that sweetness one last time.

But no. If this
once, then he would want her forever. And that could not be. Not
while there were Seven. Chung Kuo itself would have to fall before he
could have Fei Yen.

He looked down,
the pain of what he felt almost overwhelming him.

"You want
to end it? Is that it?"

Her voice was
strangely soft, surprisingly sympathetic. He looked up and saw how
she was looking at him, saw how his own hurt was reflected in her
face. And even as he watched he saw the first tears begin to gather
in the comer of her eyes and fall, slowly, ever so slowly, down the
porcelain perfection of her cheek.

"Fei Yen .
. ." he said, his voice a whisper. "You know I love you."

"And I
you." She shuddered, then stepped back from him. "I had a
dream. A dream that I was free to become your wife."

He shivered,
horrified by the words. "It cannot be."

Her eyes were
pleading with him now. "Why not? I was his brother's wife. You
know our laws."

"And yet
you married him. The Seven put their seals to the special edict. It
was done. It cannot be undone."

"Why not?
You willed the law changed once, now will it back."

He shook his
head. It was as he said; it could not be undone. Though all the seven
T'ang agreed the match was ill-chosen, they would not change this
thing. Not now. For one day Li Yuan would be T'ang, and to do this
would be to wound him deeply. Only catastrophe could come of that.
Only the end of everything they were.

He spoke clearly
now, articulating each word separately. "I would we both were
free, Fei Yen. I would give up all I have for that. But only
ill—great ill—would come of it. And this, this
play
between us—it too must end. We must not meet like this
again. Not ever."

She winced at
his finality. "Not
ever?"

The sweetness of
the words, their pain and pleading, seemed to tear his soul from him,
and yet he stood firm against her, knowing that to soften now would
undo everything. "Not ever. Understand me, Li Yuan's wife? From
now we are but— acquaintances who meet at functions and the
like. All other thoughts must now be put aside."

"Would you
forget. . . ?" she began, then fell silent, dropping her head,
for he was glaring at her.

"Enough,
woman! Would you have me die before you've done with me?"

"Never . .
." she. answered, the word a mere breath, a whisper.

"Then go.
At once."

She bowed,
obedient, for a moment so like a wife to him that he caught his
breath, pained, beyond all curing pained by the sight of her, broken,
defeated by his own determination not to have her.

And then she was
gone and he was alone again. He sat down heavily, feeling suddenly
empty, hollowed of everything but grief, and wept.

* *
*

fei YEN jumped
DOWN and, without waiting for her groom to come and take the horse,
made toward the palace. As she ran through the stable yards, grooms
and servants bowed low, then straightened up, watching her back,
astonished. No one dared say a word, but their exchanged glances
spoke eloquently. They had seen her ruined face and understood, for
they, at least, knew what had been happening between the Princess and
the handsome young T'ang.

And now, it
seemed, it was over.

In the corridor
Nan Ho made to greet her, but she ran past him as if he were not
there. He turned, frowning, deciding not to pursue her but to go out
to the stables and investigate the matter. It was his duty, after
all, to serve his Prince. And how better than to understand and gauge
the volatile moods of the woman closest to him? Fei Yen herself went
into her rooms and slammed the doors behind her, locking them; then
she threw herself down onto the bed, letting the enormity of what had
happened wash over her at last, her tiny body shaken by great
shuddering sobs. For a while she slept, then woke an hour later, all
of the anger and hurt washed from her. She stood and looked about
her, studying the hangings, the rich furnishings of her room,
frowning at their strangeness, finding no connection between herself
and these things. It was as if she had died and come to life again,
for she felt nothing. Only an overpowering numbness where feeling
ought to be.

She turned,
catching her own reflection in the glass on the far side of the room.
She took a step toward it, then stopped, looking down sharply. Her
news . . . She had never had a chance to tell him her news. She stood
there a moment, trembling, a single tear running down her cheek; then
she lifted her head defiantly, taking control of herself again,
knowing what she must do.

She bathed, then
summoned her maids and had them put her hair up and dress her in a
simple
chi poo,
the silk a pale lavender trimmed with blue.
Then, to perfect the look, she removed all of her bangles and her
rings, except his, wearing nothing about her neck. That done she
stood before the mirror, examining herself minutely.

Yes. That was
the look she wanted. Not sumptuous and sophisticated but plain and
almost earthy—like a peasant girl. She had kept even her makeup
simple. Smiling she turned from the mirror and went out into the
corridor. "Master Nan!" she called, glimpsing the Master of
the Inner Chamber at the far end of the corridor.

Nan Ho turned,
acknowledging her; then, giving a small bow to the man he had been
talking to, he hastened to her, stopping four paces from Fei Yen and
bowing low, his eyes averted.

"Master
Nan, is my husband back yet?"

Nan Ho kept his
head lowered. "He is, my Lady. Twenty minutes ago."

"Good,"
she turned, looking away from him. "Then go to him, Master Nan,
and tell him his wife would welcome a few moments of his time."

Nan Ho looked
up, surprised, then looked down quickly. "Forgive me, my Lady,
but the Prince asked not to be disturbed. He has important work to
finish."

"He is in
his study, then?"

Nan Ho bowed his
head slightly. "That is so, my Lady. With his personal
secretary, Chang
Shih
-sen."

"Then you
need worry yourself no longer, Nan Ho. I'll go to him myself."
_;

"But, my
Lady—"

"You are
dismissed, Nan Ho."

He bowed very
low. "As my Lady wishes."

She watched him
go, then turned away, walking quickly toward her husband's study.

In front of the
door she hesitated, composing herself, then knocked.

There was a
moment's silence, then footsteps. A second later the door opened
slightly and Secretary Chang looked out at her.

"My Lady. .
." He bowed, then opened the door wider, stepping back, at the
same time looking across at Li Yuan.

"It is your
wife, my Lord, the Princess Fei."

Li Yuan stood up
behind his desk as Fei Yen entered, his face lighting at the sight of
her.

"Fei Yen. I
thought you were out riding."

"I—"
She hesitated, then crossed the room until only the desk was between
them. "The truth is, husband, I could not settle until I had
seen you. Master Nan said you had returned . . ."

Li Yuan looked
past her at his secretary. "Go now,
Shih
-sen. We'll
finish this later." Then, smiling, he came round the desk and
embraced her, lifting her face to kiss her lips. "Your eagerness
to see me warms me, my love. I've missed you too."

She let her head
rest against his chest a moment, then looked up at him again. "I've
missed you, yes, but that isn't why I've interrupted you."