Officers and Administrators, Representatives and Company Executives, Ministers and Family Heads – all bowed before him and exposed their necks, each one acknowledging him their lord and master.
Last was Tolonen. Only here did Li Yuan’s reluctance take a shape, his naked sole touching the old man’s neck as if he kissed it, no pressure behind the touch.
Then it was done. The brute thing made manifest to all. He was an emperor, like the emperors of old, powerful and deadly. And afterwards he saw how changed they were by this, how absolute he’d made them think his power. He almost smiled, wondering what his father would have made of this. So powerful was this ritual, so naked its meaning.
You are mine, it said, to crush beneath my heel or raise to prominence.
The ceremony over, he dismissed all but those closest to him, holding audience in the great throne-room. First to greet him there were his fellow T’ang. They climbed the marble steps to bow their heads and kiss his ring, welcoming him to their number. Last of these was Wei Feng, wearing the white of mourning. Wei’s eyes were filled with tears, and when he had kissed the ring, he leaned forward to hold Li Yuan to him a moment, whispering in his ear.
Li Yuan nodded and held the old man’s hands a moment, then relinquished them. ‘I shall,’ he said softly, moved deeply by the words his father’s friend had uttered.
Others came, pledging loyalty in a more traditional way. And last of all his officers, led by General Tolonen.
The General knelt, unsheathing his ceremonial dagger and offering it up to his T’ang, hilt first, his eyes averted. Li Yuan took it from him and laid it across his lap.
‘You served my father well, Knut. I hope you’ll serve me just as well in future. But new lords need new servants. I must have a general to match my youth.’
The words were a formality, for it was Tolonen who had pushed to have Ebert appointed. The old man nodded and lifted his head. ‘I wish him well, Chieh Hsia. He is as a son to me. I have felt honoured to have served, but now my time is done. Let another serve you as I tried to serve your father.’
Li Yuan smiled then summoned the young man forward.
Hans Ebert came towards the throne, his head bowed, his shoulders stooped, and knelt beside Tolonen. ‘I am yours,’ he said ritually, lowering his forehead to touch the step beneath the throne, once, twice and then a third time. The sheath at his belt was empty. No mark of rank lay on his powder-blue uniform. He waited, abased and ‘naked’ before his lord.
‘Let it begin here,’ said Li Yuan, speaking loudly over the heads of the kneeling officers to the gathered eminences. ‘My trust goes out from me and into the hands of others. So it is. So it must be. This is the chain we forge; the chain that links us all.’
He looked down at the young man, speaking more softly, personally now. ‘Raise your head, Hans Ebert. Look up at your lord, who is as the sun to you and from whom you have your life. Look up and take from me my trust.’
Ebert raised his head. ‘I am ready, Chieh Hsia,’ he said, his voice steady, his eyes meeting those of Li Yuan unflinchingly.
‘Good.’ Li Yuan nodded, smiling. ‘Then take the badge of your office.’
He lifted the dagger from his lap and held it out. Ebert took it carefully then sheathed it, lowering his head once more. Then both he and Tolonen backed down the steps, their eyes averted, their heads bowed low.
That same evening they met in a room in the Purple Forbidden City: the Seven who ruled Chung Kuo. One thing remained before they went from there, one final task to set things right.
Tsu Ma stood before Li Yuan, grasping his hands firmly, meeting him eye to eye. ‘You’re sure you want this?’
‘The genotyping is conclusive. It must be done now, before the child is born. Afterwards is too late.’
Tsu Ma held him a moment longer, then released his hands. ‘So be it, then. Let us all sign the special Edict.’
Each signed his name and sealed it with his ring, in the old manner. Later it would be confirmed with retinal prints and ECG patterning, but for now this was sufficient.
Wei Feng was last to sign and seal the document. He turned, looking back at the new T’ang. ‘Good sits with ill this day, Li Yuan. I would not have thought it of her.’
‘Nor I,’ said Li Yuan, staring down at the completed Edict. And so it was done. Fei Yen was no longer his wife. The child would not inherit.
‘When is the marriage to be?’ Tsu Ma stood close. His voice was gentle, sympathetic.
‘Tomorrow,’ Yuan answered, grateful for Tsu Ma’s presence. ‘How strange that is. Tonight I lose a wife. And tomorrow…’
‘Tomorrow you gain three.’ Tsu Ma shook his head. ‘Do you know who it was, Yuan? Whose son Fei Yen is carrying?’
Li Yuan looked at him then looked away. ‘That does not concern me,’ he said stiffly. Then, relenting, he laid his hand on Tsu Ma’s arm. ‘It was a mistake ever to have begun with her. My father was right. I know that now. Only my blindness kept it from me.’
‘Then you are content?’
Li Yuan shook his head. ‘Content? No. But it is done.’
Tolonen turned from the screen and the image of the boy and faced the Architect.
‘From what I’ve seen, the experience seems not to have done Ward too much harm, but what’s your opinion? Is he ready for this yet, or should we delay?’
The Architect hesitated, remembering the last time, years before, when he had been questioned about the boy’s condition. Then it had been Berdichev, but the questions were much the same. How is the boy? Is he ready to be used? He smiled tightly then answered Tolonen.
‘It’s too early to know what the long-term effects are going to be, but in the short term you’re right. He’s emerged from this whole episode extremely well. His reaction to the attack – the trauma and loss of memory – seems to have been the best thing that could have happened to him. I was concerned in case it had done lasting damage, particularly to his memory, but if anything the experience seems to have…’ he shrugged ‘…toughened him up, I guess you’d say. He’s a resilient little creature. Much tougher than we thought. The psychological blocks we created during his restructuring four years ago seem to have melted away – as if they’d never been. But instead of regressing to that state of savagery in which we first encountered him, he appears to have attained a new balance. I’ve never seen anything like it, to be honest. Most minds are too inflexible – too set in their ways – to survive what Kim has been through without cracking. He, on the other hand, seems to have emerged stronger, saner than ever.’
Tolonen frowned. ‘Maybe. But you say that the psychological blocks have gone. That’s a bad thing, surely? I thought they were there to prevent the boy from reverting into savagery.’
‘They were.’
‘Then there’s a chance he might still be dangerous?’
‘There’s a chance. But that’s true of anyone. And I mean anyone. We’ve all of us a darker side. Push us just so far and we’ll snap. I suspect now that that was what happened the first time, that Kim was simply responding to extreme provocation from the other boy. My guess is that unless Kim were pushed to the same extreme again he’d be perfectly safe. After all, he’s not a bomb waiting to go off, he’s only a human being, like you or I.’
‘So he’s not dangerous. He won’t be biting people’s ears off or clawing out their eyes?’
‘I doubt it. The fact that his friend survived has helped greatly. Their reunion was a major factor in his recuperation. If T’ai Cho had been killed our problems might have been of a different order but, as it is, I’d say Kim’s fine. As fine as you or I.’
‘Then you think he’s up to it?’
The Architect laughed. ‘I do. In fact, I think it would be positively good for him. He has a mind that’s ever-hungry for new things and an instinct for seeking them out. From what I’ve heard of it, the North American scene should prove a good hunting ground in that regard.’
Tolonen frowned, not certain he l
iked the sound of that, but it was not in his brief to query what was happening in Wu Shih’s City; his job was to find out whether Kim was fit to travel to North America, and from all indications he was.
He sniffed deeply then nodded, his mind made up. ‘Good. Then prepare the boy at once. There’s a flight from Nantes spaceport at tenth bell. I want Ward and his tutor on it.’
‘And the wire? Shall we remove that now that our tests are finished?’
Tolonen looked away. ‘No. Leave it in. It won’t harm, after all.’ He looked back at the Architect, his face a mask. ‘Besides, if something does go badly wrong – if he goes missing again – we’d be able to trace him, wouldn’t we?’
The Architect looked down, beginning to understand what was really happening. ‘Of course.’
‘Would you like anything, sir?’
The boy looked up, startled, his dark eyes wide, then settled back in his seat again, shaking his head.
‘Nothing… I… I’m all right.’
The Steward backed off a pace, noting how tense the bodyguards had grown, and bowed his head. ‘Forgive me, sir, but if you change your mind you have only to press the summons button.’
The boy returned a tense smile. ‘Of course.’
He moved on, settling the passengers, checking they were securely strapped into the seats, asking if there was anything he could do for them before the launch, but all the while his mind was on the boy.
Who was he? he wondered. After all, it wasn’t every day they received an order direct from Bremen, neither was it customary for Security to reserve a whole section of the cabin for a single passenger. Knowing all this, he had expected some high-ranking Han – a Minor Family prince at the very least, or a Minister – so the boy’s appearance had surprised him. At first he had thought he might be a prisoner of some kind, but the more he thought about it the more that seemed ridiculous. Besides, he wasn’t bound in any way, and the men with him were clearly bodyguards, not warders. He had only to ask for something and one of them would go running.
No. Whoever he was, he was important enough to warrant the kind of treatment reserved only for the very highest of the Above – the Supernal, as they were known these days – and yet he seemed merely a boy, and a rather odd, almost ugly little boy at that. There was a curious angularity to his limbs, a strange darkness in his over-large eyes.
The Steward came to the end of the walkway and turned, looking back down the cabin. It was five minutes to take-off. The young Americans were settled now. Like so many of their kind they were almost totally lacking in manners. Only the quiet one – Lever – had even seemed to notice he was there. The rest had snapped their fingers and demanded this and that, as if he were not Steward but some half-human creature manufactured in the GenSyn vats. It was things like that that he hated about this new generation. They were not like their fathers. Not at all. Their fathers understood that other men had their own pride, and that it was such pride that held the vast fabric of society together. These youngsters had no idea. They were blind to such things. And one day they would pay – and pay dearly – for their blindness.
He turned and went through the curtain. The Security Captain was sitting there, the file open on his knee. He looked up as the Steward came in, giving him a brief smile.
‘Are they all settled?’
The Steward nodded. ‘Even the two women. I had to give them both a sedative, but they seem all right now.’ He shook his head. ‘They shouldn’t let women travel. I’ve nothing but trouble with them.’
The Captain laughed, closing the file. ‘And the boy?’
‘He’s fine. I wondered…’
The Captain shook his head. ‘Don’t ask me. All I was told was that there was to be a special guest on board. A guest of the T’ang himself. But who he is or what…’ He shrugged then laughed again. ‘I know. I’m as curious as you. He’s a strange one, neh?’
The Steward nodded then moved away, satisfied that the Captain knew no more than him. Even so, he thought he had glimpsed a picture of the boy, earlier, when he had first come back behind the curtain – in the file the Captain was reading. He could have been mistaken, but…
‘Are you on business?’ he asked, pulling the webbing harness out from the wall behind the Captain.
‘Liaison,’ the Captain answered, moving forward in his seat, letting himself be fastened into the harness. ‘My job is to increase cooperation between the two Cities.’
The Steward smiled politely. ‘It sounds very interesting. But I’d have thought there was little need.’
‘You’d be surprised. The days of isolation are ended for the Cities. The Triads have spread their nets wide these days. And not only the Triads. There’s a lot of illicit trade goes on. Some of it via these rockets, I’ve no doubt!’
The Steward stared at him a moment then turned away. ‘Anyway, I’ll leave you now. I have one last check to make before I secure myself.’
The Captain nodded then called him back. ‘Here. I almost forgot. I was told to deliver this to the boy before we took off.’ He handed the Steward a sealed envelope. ‘It was in my file. Along with a picture of the boy. All very mysterious, neh?’
The Steward stared at the envelope a moment then nodded. He turned away, disappearing through the curtain once again.
DeVore watched the man go, breathing a sigh of relief. Then he laughed. It was easy – all so bloody easy. Why, he could have taken the boy out earlier, in the lobby, if he’d wished. He’d had a clear shot. But that wasn’t what he wanted. No, he wanted the boy. Besides, Li Yuan was up to something. It would be interesting to find out what.
He smiled then opened the file again, picking up from where he’d left off. After a moment he looked up, nodding thoughtfully. Ebert had done him proud. There was everything here. Everything. The report Tolonen had made on the attack on the Project, the medical and psychological reports on Ward and a full transcript of the debriefing. The only thing missing – and it was missing only because it didn’t exist – was something to indicate just why Li Yuan had decided to ship the boy off to North America.
Well, maybe he could clarify things a little over the next few days. Maybe he could find out – through the Levers – what it was Li Yuan wanted. And at the same time he might do a little business on his own account: would take up young Lever’s invitation to meet his father and have dinner.
Yes, and afterwards he would put his proposal to the son. Would see just how deep his enthusiasm for change was. And then…?
He smiled and closed the file. And then he would begin again, building new shapes on a new part of the board; constructing his patterns until the game was won. For it would be won. If it took him a dozen lifetimes he would win it.
Chapter 66
GHOSTS
It was a cold, grey morning, the sky overcast, the wind whipping off the surface of the West Lake, bending back the reeds on the shoreline of Jade Spring Island. In front of the great pavilion – a huge, circular, two-tiered building with tapered roofs of vermilion tile – the thousand bright red and gold dragon banners of the T’ang flapped noisily, the ranks of armoured bearers standing like iron statues in the wind, their red capes fluttering behind them.
To the south of the pavilion a huge platform had been built, reaching almost to the lake’s edge. In its centre, on a dais high above the rest, stood the throne, a great canopy of red silk shielding it from the rain that gusted intermittently across the lake.
Li Yuan sat there on the throne, his red silks decorated with tiny golden dragon and phoenix emblems. Behind him, below the nine steps of the great dais, his retainers and Ministers were assembled, dressed in red.
Facing Li Yuan, no more than a hundred ch’i distant, a wide bridge linked the island to the eastern shore. It was an ancient bridge, built in the time of the Song dynasty, more than a thousand years before, its white stone spans decorated with lions and dragons and other mythical beasts.
Li Yuan stared at it a moment then turned his head,
looking out blank-eyed across the lake, barely conscious of the great procession that waited on the far side of the bridge. News had come that morning. Fei Yen had had her child. A boy it was. A boy.
The music of the ceremony began, harsh, dissonant – bells, and drums and cymbals. At once the New Confucian officials came forward, making their obeisance to him before they backed away. On the eastern shore the procession started forward, a great tide of red, making its slow way across the bridge.
He sighed and looked down at his hands. It was only two days since he had removed her wedding ring. Two days… He shivered. So simple it had been. He had watched himself remove it from his finger and place it on the gold silk cushion Nan Ho had held out to him. Had watched as Nan Ho had turned and taken it from the room, ending the life he had shared with her, destroying the dream for good and all.
He took a shuddering breath then looked up again. This was no time for tears. No. Today was a day for celebrations, for today was his wedding day.
He watched them come. The heads of the three clans walked side by side at the front of the procession: proud old men, each bearing his honour in his face like a badge. Behind them came the ranks of brothers and cousins, sisters and wives, many hundreds in all, and beyond them the lung t’ing – the ‘dragon pavilions’ – each one carried by four bare-headed eunuch servants. The tiny sedan chairs were piled high with dowry gifts for the T’ang – bolts of silk and satin, boxes of silver, golden plates and cups, embroidered robes, delicate porcelain, saddles and fans and gilded cages filled with songbirds. So much, indeed, that this single part of the procession was by far the longest, with more than a hundred lung t’ing to each family.
An honour guard was next. Behind that came the three feng yu, the phoenix chairs, four silver birds perched atop each canopy, each scarlet and gold sedan carried aloft by a dozen bearers.
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