Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 (66 page)

He shook his
head, then let his fingers brush against the two documents he had had
prepared. If all went well they would be shreds within the hour,
their only significance having lain in the gesture of their
destruction.

But would that
be enough? Would that satisfy the T'ang of Africa?

Outside, in the
corridors, two bells sounded, one low, one high. A moment later Chung
Hu-yan appeared in the great doorway, his head lowered.

"Your
guests are here,
Chieh Hsia.
"

"Good."
He stood and came around the desk. "Show them in, Chung. Then
bring us wines and sweetmeats. We may be here some while."

The Chancellor
bowed and backed away, his face registering an understanding of how
difficult the task was that lay before his master. A moment later he
returned, still bowed, leading the two T'ang into the room.

"Good
cousins," Li Shai Tung said, taking their hands briefly. "I
thank you for sparing the time from busy schedules to come and see me
at such short notice."

He saw how Hou
Tung-po looked at once to his friend for his lead, how his welcoming
smile faded as he noted the blank expression on Wang Sau-leyan's
face.

"I would
not have come had/I not felt it was important to see you, Li Shai
Tung," Wang answered, staring past him.

Li Shai Tung
stiffened, angered not merely by the hostility he sensed emanating
from the young T'ang but also by the inference that a T'ang might
even consider not coming at his cousin's urgent wish. Even so, he
curbed his anger. This time, young Wang would not draw him.

"And so it
is," he answered, smiling pleasantly. "A matter of the
utmost importance."

Wang Sau-leyan
looked about him with the air of a man considering buying something,
then looked back at Li Shai Tung. "Well? I'm listening."

It was so rude,
so wholly unexpected, that Li Shai Tung found himself momentarily
lost for words. Then he laughed. Is
that really the way you want
it?
he thought, or is
that too a pose
—
designed to
throw me from my purpose and win yourself advantage?

He put his hand
to his beard thoughtfully. "You're like your father, Sau-leyan.
He too could be blunt when it was called for."

"My father
was a foolish old man!"

Li Shai Tung
stiffened, shocked by the young man's utterance. He looked across at
Hou Tung-po and saw how he looked away, embarrassed, then shook his
head. He took a breath and began again.

"The other
day, in Council—"

"You seek
to lecture me, Li Shai Tung?"

Li Shai Tung
felt himself go cold. Would the young fool not even let him finish a
sentence?

He bowed his
head slightly, softening his voice. "You mistake me, good
cousin. I seek nothing but an understanding between us. It seems
we've started badly, you and I. I sought only to mend that. To find
some way of redressing your grievances."

He saw how Wang
Sau-leyan straightened slightly at that, as if sensing concession on
his part. Again it angered him, for his instinct was not to
accommodate but to crush the arrogance he saw displayed before him;
but he kept all sign of anger from his face.

Wang Sau-leyan
turned, meeting his eyes directly. "A deal, you mean?"

He stared back
at the young T'ang a moment, then looked aside. "I realize that
we want different things, Wang Sau-leyan, but is there not a way of
satisfying us both?"

The young man
turned, looking across at Hou Tung-po. "Is it not as I said,
Hou?"

He raised a hand
dismissively, indicating Li Shai Tung. "The
lao jen
wants
to buy my silence. To bridle me in Council."

Li Shai Tung
looked down, coldly furious.
Lao jen,
"old man," was
a term of respect, but not in the way Wang Sau-leyan had used it. The
scornful intonation he had given the word had made it an insult, an
insult that could not be ignored.

"An offered
hand should not be spat upon."

Wang Sau-leyan
looked back at him, his expression openly hostile. "What could
you offer me that I might possibly want,
lao jen?"

Li Shai Tung had
clenched his hands. Now he relaxed them, letting his breath escape
him in a sigh. "Why in the gods' names are you so inflexible,
Wang Sau-leyan? What do you want of us?"

Wang Sau-leyan
took a step closer. "Inflexible? Was I not 'flexible' when your
son married his brother's wife? Or by flexible do you really mean
unprincipled, willing to do as you and not others wish?"

Li Shai Tung
turned sharply, facing him, openly angry now. "You go too far!
Hell's teeth, boy!"

Wang Sau-leyan
smiled sourly. "Boy . . . That's how you see me, isn't it? A
boy, to be chastised or humored. Or locked away, perhaps."

"This is
not right—" Li Shai Tung began, but again the young T'ang
interrupted him, his voice soft yet threatening.

"This is a
new age, old man. New things are happening in the world. The Seven
must change with the times or go under. And if I must break your
power in Council to bring about that change, then break it I shall.
But do not think to buy or silence me, for I'll not be bought or
silenced."

Li Shai Tung
stood there, astonished, his lips parted.
Break it? Break his
power?
But before he could speak there was a knocking at the
door.

"Come in!"
he said, only half aware of what he said, his eyes still resting on
the figure of the young T'ang.

It was Chung
Hu-yan. Behind him came four servants, carrying trays.
"Chieh
Hsia
—?" he began, then stepped back hurriedly as Wang
Sau-leyan stormed past him, pushing angrily through the servants,
knocking their trays clattering to the tiled floor as they hastened
to move back out of the T'ang's way.

Hou Tung-po hung
back a moment, clearly dismayed by what had happened. Taking a step
toward Li Shai Tung, he bowed, then turned away, hurrying to catch up
with his friend.

Li Shai Tung
stood there a moment longer; then waving his Chancellor away, he went
to the desk and picked up one of the documents. He stared at it a
moment, his hands trembling with anger; then, one by one, he began to
pick off the unmarked seals with his fingernails, dropping them onto
the floor beside his feet until only his own remained at the foot of
the page.

He would have
offered this today. Would have gladly torn this document to shreds to
forge a peaceful understanding. But what had transpired just now
convinced him that such a thing was impossible. Wang Sau-leyan would
not permit it. Well, then, he would act alone in this.

He turned his
hand, placing the dark, dull metal of the ring into the depression at
the desk's edge, letting it grow warm; then he lifted his hand and
pressed the seal into the wax.

There. It was
done. He had sanctioned his son's scheme. Had given it life.

For a moment
longer he stood there, staring down at the document, at the six blank
spaces where the seals had been; then he turned away, his anger
unassuaged, speaking softly to himself, his words an echo of what the
young T'ang had said to him.

"This is a
new age, old man. New things are happening in the world."

He laughed
bitterly. "So it is, Wang Sau-leyan. So it is. But you'll not
break me. Not while I have breath."

* *
*

KARR STOOD on
the mountainside, shielding his eyes, looking about him at the empty
slopes. It was cold, much colder than he'd imagined. He pulled the
collar of his jacket up around his ears and shivered, still searching
the broken landscape for some sign, some clue as to where to look.

The trouble was,
it was just too big a place, too vast. One could hide a hundred
armies here and never find them.

He looked down,
blowing on his hands to warm them. How easy, then, to hide a single
army here?

It had begun two
days ago, after he had been to see Tolonen. His report on the
Executive Killings had taken almost an hour to deliver. Even so, they
were still no closer to finding out who had been behind the spate of
murders.

Officially, that
was. For himself, however, he was certain who was behind them—and
he knew both the T'ang and Tolonen agreed. DeVore. It had to be. The
whole thing was too neat, too well orchestrated, to be the work of
anyone else.

But if DeVore,
then why was there no trace of him within the City? Why was there no
sign of his face somewhere in the levels? After all, every Security
camera, every single guard and official in the whole vast City, was
on the look-out for that face.

That absence had
nagged at him for weeks, until coming away from his meeting with
Tolonen, he had realized its significance. If DeVore couldn't be
found inside, then maybe he wasn't inside—maybe he was outside?
Karr had gone back to his office and stood before the map of City
Europe, staring at it, his eyes drawn time and again to the long,
irregular space at the center of the City—the Wilds—until
he knew for a certainty that that was where he'd find DeVore.
There,
somewhere in that tiny space.

But what had
seemed small on the map was gigantic in reality. The mountains were
overpowering, both in their size and number. They filled the sky from
one horizon to the other; and when he turned, there they were again,
marching away into the distance, until the whole world seemed but one
long mountain range and the City nothing.

So, where to
start? Where, in all this vastness of rock and ice, to start? How to
search this godsforsaken place?

He was pondering
that when he saw the second craft come up over the ridge and descend,
landing beside his own, in the valley far below. A moment later a
figure spilled from the craft and began to make its way toward him,
climbing the slope. It was Chen.

"Gregor!"
Chen greeted him. "I've been looking all over for you."

"What is
it?" Karr answered, trudging down through the snow to meet him.

Chen stopped,
then lifted his snow goggles, looking up at him. "I've brought
new orders. From the T'ang."

Karr stared at
him, then took the sealed package and tore it open.

"What does
it say?"

"That we're
to close the files on the murders. Not only that, but we're to stop
our search for DeVore—temporarily, at least—and
concentrate on penetrating the
Ping Tiao
organization. It
seems they're planning something big."

Chen watched the
big man nod to himself, as if taking in this new information, then
look about him and laugh.

"What is
it?" he asked, surprised by Karr's laughter.

"Just
this," Karr answered, holding the T'ang's orders up. "And
this," he added, indicating the mountains all about them. "I
was thinking—two paths, but the goal's the same. DeVore."

"DeVore?"

"Yes. The
T'ang wants us to investigate the
Ping Tiao
, and so we shall;
but when we lift that stone, you can lay odds on which insect will
come scuttling out from under it."

"DeVore,"
said Chen, smiling. "Yes, DeVore."

* *
*

HANS ebert stood
on the wooden veranda of the lodge, staring up the steep,
snow-covered slope, his breath pluming in the crisp air. As he
watched, the dark spot high up the slope descended slowly, coming
closer, growing, until it was discernibly a human figure. It was
coming on apace, in a
zig-zag
path that would bring it to the
lodge.

Ebert clapped
his gloved hands together and turned to look back inside the lodge.
There were three other men with him, his comrades in arms. Men he
could trust.

"He's
here!" he shouted in to them. "Quick now! You know your
orders!"

They got up from
the table at once, taking their weapons from the rack near the door
before going to their posts.

When the skier
drew up beneath the veranda, the lodge seemed empty except for the
figure leaning out over the balcony. The skier thrust his sticks into
the snow, then lifted his goggles and peeled off his gloves.

"I'm
pleased to see you, Hans. I didn't know if you would come."

Ebert
straightened up, then started down the steps. "My uncle is a
persuasive man,
Shih
DeVore. I hadn't realized he was an old
friend of yours."

DeVore laughed,
stooping to unfasten his boots. He snapped the clips and stepped off
the skis. "He isn't. Not officially. Nor will you be.
Officially."

He met the
younger man at the bottom of the steps and shook both his hands
firmly, warmly, flesh to gloves.

"I
understand it now."

"Understand
what? Come, Hans, let's go inside. The air is too keen for such
talk."

Hans let himself
be led back up into the lodge. When they were sitting, drinks in
hand, he continued. "What I meant is, I understand now how
you've managed to avoid us all these years. More old friends, eh?"

"One or
two," said DeVore cryptically, and laughed.

"Yes,"
Ebert said thoughtfully, "You're a regular member of the family,
aren't you?" He had been studying DeVore, trying to gauge
whether he was armed or not.

"You forget
how useful I once was to your father."

"No. . ."
Ebert chose the next few words more carefully. "I simply
remember how harmful you were subsequently. How dangerous. Even to
meet you like this, it's—"

"Fraught
with danger?" DeVore laughed again, a hearty, sincere laughter
that strangely irritated the younger man.

DeVore looked
across the room. In one comer a
wei chi
board had been set up,
seven black stones forming an H on the otherwise empty grid.

"I see
you've thought of everything," he said, smiling again. "Do
you want to play while we talk?"