The White Mountain (9 page)

Chapter 69

IN THE OPEN

T
olonen stood there at Haavikko's bedside, looking down at him, a faint smile on his lips. It was only two days since his own operation and he was still feeling weak, but he had had to come.

A nurse brought him a chair and he sat, content to wait until the young man woke. His new arm ached at the shoulder, despite the drugs, but it was feeling better than it had.

Besides, he was alive. Thanks to Haavikko.

The nurse hovered but he waved her away, then settled to watch the sleeping man.

All his life he had been self-reliant. All his life he had fought his own fights, keeping himself one step ahead of his enemies. But now he was growing old. At last he had proof of it. His old eyes had missed the discrepancy of the colour codings on the soldiers' chests – his reactions had been just that fraction of a second too slow – and he had lost his arm as a result. Almost his life.

He smiled, studying the young man. Haavikko was cradled in bandages, special healants creating new skin growth on his badly burned shoulder and back.

Tolonen shook his head as if to clear it, feeling both sad and happy at once. He had been told what Haavikko had done for him, like a son for a father; risking himself when all bonds of duty or obligation had long ago been severed between them.

Yes, he had sorely misjudged the boy.

Haavikko stirred and opened his eyes. ‘Marshal…' He made to sit up, then winced and eased back, closing his eyes again. The blast had removed most of the skin at the top of his back and taken off his ear.

‘Lie still, boy. Please. You need your rest.'

Haavikko opened his eyes again and looked up at the Marshal. ‘Your arm…' he said, clearly pained by the sight.

Tolonen laughed gruffly. ‘You like it? It hurts a bit just now, but that doesn't matter. I'm alive, that's the thing.' He sat back, his right hand reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his left cheek; an awkward, embarrassed gesture, indicative of just how hard the old man found it to deal with this. The warmth he felt towards the other man – that depth of reawakened feeling – brought him close to tears. He looked away a moment, controlling himself, then finished what he had meant to say. ‘Thanks to you, Axel. Thanks to you.'

Axel smiled. His hands lay above the sheets. Long, fine hands, undamaged in the incident. Tolonen took one and squeezed it.

‘I misjudged you, boy. I…'

Haavikko shook his head, a slight grimace of pain crossing his face. ‘It doesn't matter. Really, sir. I…' He turned his head slightly, looking across the room to where his clothes hung on a peg. ‘But there's something you must know. Something important.'

Tolonen smiled. ‘Rest, my boy. There's plenty of time for other things…'

‘No.' Haavikko swallowed drily. ‘Over there, in my tunic, there's a package. I was bringing it to you when it happened. I'd pieced it all together.'

Tolonen shook his head, puzzled. ‘Pieced what together?'

Haavikko looked up, pleading with his eyes. ‘Just look. Please, sir. You don't have to read it all right now. Later, perhaps, when you feel up to it. But promise me you'll read it. Please, Marshal.'

Tolonen let go of Haavikko's hand, then got up heavily and went across. Just as Haavikko had said, there was a small package in the inner pocket of the tunic. He tugged at it until it came free, then went back, taking his seat again.

He held the package out, a query in his eyes. ‘So what is this?'

Haavikko swallowed again and Tolonen, taking the hint, set the package down and picked up the glass by the bedside, giving Haavikko a few sips.

‘Well?'

‘Long ago you asked me to do something for you – to make a list of people who might have been involved in the assassination of Minister Lwo Kang. Do you remember?'

Tolonen laughed. ‘Gods! That must have been eleven years ago. And you did that?'

Haavikko made the smallest movement of his head. ‘That's how it began. But I extended it. I kept a record of anything I felt wasn't right – anything that didn't quite make sense to me. Then, recently, I teamed up with Kao Chen and your man Karr.'

‘Good men,' Tolonen said, nodding his approval.

‘Yes.' Haavikko smiled then grew serious again. ‘Anyway, what you have there is the result of our investigations. My original list, my notes and a few other things. Computer files. Hologram images.'

Tolonen lifted the package and turned it in his hand, then set it down on his knee and reached out to take Haavikko's hand again. ‘And you want me to look at it?'

‘Yes…'

Tolonen considered a moment. He had promised Jelka he would dine with her later on, but maybe he would cancel that. He could always say he was tired. Jelka would understand. He smiled broadly at Haavikko. ‘Of course. It's the very least I could do.'

Haavikko looked back at him, his eyes moist. ‘Thank you,' he said, his voice almost a whisper. ‘Thank you, sir.'

Tolonen sat there, clasping the young man's hand. The ache in his left shoulder was much stronger now. It was probably time for his medication, but he felt loath to leave the young man.

‘I must go now,' he said softly. ‘But I promise you I'll look at your files. Later. When it's quiet.'

Haavikko smiled, his eyes closed. Slowly his mouth relaxed. In a moment he was asleep.

Tolonen placed the young man's hand gently back on the sheets then got stiffly to his feet. Twice lucky, he thought, remembering the attack at Nanking spaceport. He made his way across, then turned, looking back, noticing for the first time just how pale Haavikko was. He stood there a moment longer, absently scratching at the dressing at his shoulder, then desisted, annoyed with himself.

He looked down at the silver arm and sighed, remembering how Jelka had fussed when she'd first seen it. But there was steel in her too. She had borne up bravely. So too this young man. Oh, he would make things up. He was determined on it. Would find a way of making things right again.

Tolonen yawned, then, smiling sadly to himself, turned away, leaving the young officer to sleep.

Tsu Ma lifted the dish and brushed his thumb across its silken, contoured surface. It was a perfect piece: black lacquer carved with two waterfowl against a background of lotus. Fourteenth century, from the last years of the Yuan dynasty. He smiled to himself, then turned to face Li Yuan.

‘Two years they would labour to make one of these. Two years of a master craftsman's life. And at the end, this. This small fragment of dark perfection.'

Li Yuan looked across at him, turning from the view of the bay and the sugarloaf mountain beyond. He had not been listening, but he saw the lacquered dish in Tsu Ma's hands and nodded. ‘That piece is beautiful. Hou Ti had many fine things.'

Tsu Ma held his eyes a moment. ‘These days some think of them as primitive, ignorant men. Barbarians. But look at this. Is this barbarian?' He shook his head slowly, his eyes returning to the dish. ‘As if the mere passage of years could make our species more sophisticated.'

Li Yuan laughed and came closer. ‘Your point, Tsu Ma?'

Behind them, at the far side of the long room, the rest of the Seven were gathered, talking among themselves.

Tsu Ma set the dish down, letting his fingers rest in its shallow bowl, then looked up at Li Yuan again. ‘Just that there are those here who think the future better than the past simply because it is the future. Who believe that change is good simply because it is change. They have no time for comparisons. Or for the kind of values expressed in the simplicity of this dish. No time for craft, control or discipline.' He lowered his voice a fraction. ‘And I find that disturbing, Li Yuan. Dangerous, even.'

Li Yuan studied him a moment, then gave the barest nod of agreement. They had covered much ground that morning, but nothing yet of true significance. On the matters of the stewardships and the new immortality drugs he had bowed like the reed before the wind, not pushing his own
viewpoint, merely ensuring that these matters were not finalized. Let them play their games of evading death, he thought; death would find them anyway, wherever they hid. As for the other, there was time enough to force his view on that.

‘How deep is this feeling?'

Tsu Ma considered a moment, then leaned towards Li Yuan. ‘Deep, cousin. Deep enough to trouble me.' He looked past the younger man, out beyond the window glass, seeing how the space between the bowl of hills was plugged with the white of the City's walls. ‘They would do away with certain restraints.' He stretched his long neck, lifting his chin, then looked directly at Li Yuan. ‘You'll see. This afternoon…'

The early afternoon sunlight fell across Li Yuan's arm and shoulder. ‘It is the illness of our time. Change and the desire for change. But I had not thought…' Yuan smiled and broke off, seeing Chi Hsing, the T'ang of the Australias, approach.

The two men nodded, acknowledging the newcomer.

‘Are you not eating, cousins?' Chi Hsing smiled and turned, summoning the waiters, then turned back. ‘Before we resume, there is a matter I must raise with you. A change has been proposed to the scheduled itinerary.'

‘A
change?'
Li Yuan said, raising his eyebrows slightly, but heavily emphasizing the word. Beside him Tsu Ma kept his amusement to himself, staring back mask-like at his fellow T'ang.

Chi Hsing was known for neither his intelligence nor his subtlety. In that regard he was much more his mother's child than his father's. He was a father now himself, of course. Two young sons, the eldest barely two, had blessed his first marriage, changing him considerably. He was less rash now than he'd been, and though he had secretly applauded Li Yuan's purge of the
Ping Tiao
, he also had misgivings about such actions. He feared for his sons, remembering what had happened in the War with the Dispersionists. Vengeance was fine, but now he wished only for peace.

Peace. So that he might see his sons grow to be men. Strong, fine men, as his father had been.

‘Wang Sau-leyan has made a request,' he began, his eyes searching both their faces. ‘And there are others here who wish to speak on the matter.' His eyes grew still, focused on Li Yuan.

‘Go on, cousin.'

Chi Hsing bowed his head slightly. ‘He wishes to discuss the arrests. The action you took in league with Wu Shih against the young sons.'

It was clear, by the way Chi Hsing stood there, that he expected Li Yuan to refuse. Indeed, it was within Li Yuan's rights to refuse Wang's request, as his father had done once before. But Li Yuan only smiled politely.

‘I have no objection to that. Do you, Tsu Ma?'

‘Not I.'

Li Yuan reached out and touched Chi Hsing's shoulder. ‘It is best, after all, if these things are aired between us. In the open.'

Chi Hsing nodded, still hesitant, as if he expected Li Yuan to change his mind at any moment. Then, realizing he had achieved his end, he smiled.

‘Good. That's very good, Li Yuan. As you say, it is best. In the open.' He nodded again, this time decisively, then turned and went across to where Wang Sau-leyan and their host, Hou Tung-po, T'ang of South America, were standing. Wang listened a moment, then looked across at Li Yuan, bowing his head slightly.

‘In the open,' said Tsu Ma beneath his breath. ‘You're like your father, Yuan. Devious.'

Li Yuan turned, surprised, then laughed, seeing the humour beneath the surface of Tsu Ma's words. ‘Words are words, Tsu Ma. We must bend and shape them to our needs.'

Tsu Ma nodded, pleased with that. ‘So it is in these troubled times, cousin. But history shall judge us by our actions.'

Wang Sau-leyan was leaning forward in his seat, his hands folded in his lap, his big, moon face looking from one to another as he spoke. He seemed calm, relaxed, his voice soft and deep, persuasive in its tones. Thus far he had said little that had not been said before, but now he turned the conversation.

‘In this room, as in the rooms of the Twenty-Nine and the mansions of the Supernal, there are those who are questioning recent events. Some with anger, some with sadness and misgivings. Others fearfully, remembering things not long past. But every last one of them is concerned, wondering where it will stop. For myself, I believe it has already gone too far.'

Wu Shih made to interrupt, but Wang raised his hand. ‘You will have
your say, Wu Shih, and I shall listen. But first hear me out. This must be said, before it is too late for words.'

Tsu Ma reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a slender silver case. ‘Then talk, cousin. Let us hear what you have to say.'

There was an unconcealed hostility in the words that surprised Li Yuan. He watched Tsu Ma take a cheroot from the case then close it and slip it back into his pocket.

‘Thank you, cousin,' said Wang, watching the older man light the cheroot and draw the first breath from it. He smiled tightly, then let his face fall blank again. ‘As I said, there is anger and sadness and a great deal of fear. Unhealthy symptoms. Signs of a deep and bitter hostility towards us.'

Wu Shih grunted indignantly, but kept his silence. His cheeks burned red and his eyes bored into the side of Wang's softly rounded face.

‘We have sown a harvest of discontent,' Wang went on. ‘And I say we, because this affects us all. And yet I hesitate to use that plural, because it suggests consensus on our part. Suggests a commonly agreed-upon set of actions, discussed and debated here, in Council, as has always been our way.' He paused and looked about him, shaking his head. ‘Instead I wake to find the world a different place from when I slept. And myself every bit as surprised as those who came begging audience, saying, “Why is my son arrested?”'

In the chair beside him, Hou Tung-po nodded his head vigorously. ‘So it was for me. I was not notified, Li Yuan. Not consulted before you and Wu Shih acted. A poor choice was left to me, to seem a scoundrel or look a fool. Relations are bad between us and the Above. As bad as at any time during the last ten years. We must act to defuse this situation before it gets out of hand. We must make some gesture to placate the Above.'