Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 (12 page)

He walked across
to her, hesitant, aware of her eyes upon him, watching him come.

He stopped at
the foot of the steps, looking at her. The huge throne dwarfed her.
She seemed like a child sitting in her father's chair. Three steps
led up to the dais, but standing there, his face was on the level of
Fei Yen's. He studied her, conscious that in the years since he had
first seen her she had grown to the fullness of womanhood.

His eyes
narrowed with pain, looking at her, seeing how dark her eyes were.
How deep and beautiful they were. How delicate the lashes. How finely
drawn the curves of skin about the liquid centers. Eyes so dark, so
vast, he felt he could lose himself in their depths.

"Well?"
Fei Yen leaned forward. She was smiling at him, her hand extended.
"What does my husband command?"

He felt a fresh
thrill of delight course through his blood, at the same time hot and
cold, both exquisite and painful. Her eyes held him, making him reach
out and take her hand.

He looked down
at her hand. So small and fine it was. Its warmth seemed to
contradict its porcelain appearance, its strength oppose its apparent
fragility. Her hand closed on his, drawing him up the steps to where
she sat. He knelt, his head in her lap, her hands caressing his neck.
For a moment it was enough. Then she lifted his head between her
hands and made him move back, away from her.

They stood,
facing each other.

Her hand went to
the ruby-studded clasp at her right shoulder and released it. Slowly,
with a faint silken rustle, the cloth unraveled, slipping from her
body.

She stood there,
naked but for the jewels in her hair, the bands of gold at her ankles
and at her throat. Her skin was the white of swan's feathers, her
breasts small, perfectly formed, their dark nipples protruding.
Mesmerized, he looked at the curves of her flesh, the small, dark
tangle of her sex, and felt desire wash over him so fiercely, so
overpoweringly, he wanted to cry out.

Timidly he put
out his hand, caressing her flank and then her breast, touching the
dark brown nipple tenderly, as if it were the most fragile thing he
had ever touched. She was watching him, her smile tender, almost
painful now. Then, softly, she placed her hands upon his hips and
pushed her face forward.

He moved closer,
his eyes closed, his body melting. His hands caressed her shoulders,
finding them so smooth, so warm, they seemed unreal; while her lips
against his were soft and wet and hot, like desire itself, their
sweetness blinding him.

She reached
down, releasing him, then drew him down on top of her. At once he was
spilling his seed, even as he entered her. He cried out, feeling her
shudder beneath him. And when he looked at her again he saw how
changed her eyes were, how different her mouth—a simple gash of
wanting now that he was inside her.

That look
inflamed him, made him spasm again, then lie still on top of her.

They lay there a
long while; then, as one, they stirred, noticing how awkwardly they
lay, their bodies sprawled across the steps.

He stood and
tucked himself in, aware of how incongruous the action seemed, then
reached down to help her up, unable to take his eyes from her
nakedness.

Saying nothing,
she led him through into the bridal room. There she undressed him and
led him to the bath and washed him, ignoring his arousal, putting him
off until she was ready for him. Then, finally, they lay there on the
low wide bed, naked, facing each other, their lips meeting for tiny
sips of kisses, their hands tenderly caressing each other's bodies.

"When did
you know?" she asked, her eyes never leaving his. "When I
was eight," he said and laughed softly, as if he knew it was
madness. For more than half his young life he had loved her. And here
she was, his wife, his lover. Eight, almost nine years his senior.
Half a lifetime older than he.

For a time she
was silent, her eyes narrowed, watching him. Then, at last she spoke.
"How strange. Perhaps I should have known." She smiled and
moved closer, kissing him.

Yes, he thought,
releasing her, then watching her again, seeing the small movements of
her lashes, of the skin about her eyes, the line of her mouth. Cloud
motion in the eyes, it seemed, the bones of her face molded and
remolded constantly. He was fascinated by her. Mesmerized. He felt he
could lie there forever and never leave this room, this intimacy.

They made love
again, slowly this time, Fei Yen leading him, guiding him, it seemed,
bringing him to a climax more exquisite than the last, more painful
in its intensity.

He lay there
afterward, watching the darkness in her face, the sudden color in her
cheeks and at her neck and knew he would always want her. "I
love you," he said finally, shaking his head slowly, as if he
could not believe it. He had said the words so often in his head. Had
imagined himself saying them to her. And now . . .

"I know,"
she said, kissing him again. Then, relaxing, she settled down beside
him, her head nestling into the fold of his arm, her cheek pressed
soft and warm against his chest.

LI
yuan WOKE early and, loath to disturb her, went to his desk on the
far side of the room and sat there in the tight circle of the lamp's
light, looking across at her. For a time he did nothing, entranced by
the vision of her sleeping form; then, stirring himself, he took
paper from the drawer and, after mixing water and ink from the ink
block, began, writing the words in a neat, unhesitant hand down the
page, right to left.

Hot wings,
perfumed like cinnamon, Beat about me, black as the moonless night. I
heard your splendid cry in the silence, And knew the phoenix fed upon
my heart.

He dipped the
brush again, then looked across, realizing she was watching him.

"What are
you doing, my love?"

He felt a tiny
thrill, a shiver of pure delight, pass through him at her words. M}
love . . .
How often he'd dreamed of her saying them. He
smiled, then set the brush down.

"Nothing,
my darling one. Sleep now. I'll wake you when it's time."

He picked up a
tiny dragon-headed pot and shook sand over the paper to dry the ink,
then lifted the sheet to blow it clean.

"Is it
business?"

He looked up
again, smiling. She had raised herself on one elbow and was looking
across at him, her dark hair fallen loose across the silk of her
shoulder.

Li Yuan folded
the sheet in half and in half again, then put it in the pocket of his
gown. He looked away a moment, toward the garden. It was dark
outside; black, like a sea of ink pressed against the glass.

He looked back,
smiling. "No."

"Then come
to bed, my love. It's warm here."

He laughed
softly. "Yes, but I must get ready."

There was a
meeting of the Council that afternoon and there was much to do
beforehand. He ought to begin. Even so, he hesitated, seeing her
thus. It was his first morning with her, after all. Surely his father
would understand this once?

She was watching
him silently, letting the darkness of her eyes, the silken perfection
of her naked shoulder, bring him to her. He stood, then went across,
sitting beside her on the bed.

She leaned
forward to greet him, her left hand moving between the folds of his
gown to touch and caress his chest. As she did so, the covers slipped
back, revealing her neck, the smooth perfection of her upper chest,
the magnificence of her breasts. He looked down at them, then up into
her face again.

"Fei Yen .
. ."

Her lips parted
slightly, her eyes widened, smiling. "Husband?"

He laughed
again, a brief sound of delight. "Husband ... It sounds so
different from your lips." .

"Different?"

He shivered,
then leaned forward to kiss her lips, gently, softly, holding her to
him momentarily. Then he released her and sat back, looking at her
again. "Yes . . . like something undeserved."

There was a
small movement in her mouth, then she laughed. "I have a present
for you."

'A present?"

"Yes. Wait
there ..."

Li Yuan reached
out and took her arm gently, stopping her. "Hold, my love. Look
at you!" His eyes traced the form of her. "What need have I
for presents?"

"But this
is different, Yuan. It's something I chose for you myself."

"Ah . . ."
he said, releasing her, then watched, his heart pounding in his
chest, as she turned from him, throwing the sheets aside to reveal
the slender curve of her back. She scrambled across the huge bed,
then came back, a slim package in her hand.

"Here . .
."

He took it, but
his eyes were elsewhere, drinking in the beauty of her.

"Well?"
she said, laughing gently at him, enjoying the way he looked at her.

"Open it."

He hesitated,
then looked down, tugging at the bow to free the ribbon then pulled
the wrapping aside. It was a book. He opened the pages, then blushed
and looked up.

"What is
it?" he said quietly.

"It is a
chun hua,
" she said, coming alongside him, draping her
warmth across his side and shoulder. "A pillow book. Something
to excite us when we're here, alone."

He turned the
pages slowly, reluctantly, pretending he had never seen its like,
strangely appalled by the graphic nature of its sexual images. "Fei
Yen ... we have no need for this. Why, I have only to look at you . .
."

"I know,"
she said, turning his head gently with her fingers and kissing him
softly on the cheek. "But this will keep our love fresh and
powerful; will raise us to new heights."

He shuddered,
closing his eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of her warmth pressed up
against him, the softness of her kisses against his flesh. He could
smell the scent of their lovemaking on her skin. Could taste it on
his tongue.

"I must get
ready," he said almost inaudibly. "The Council . . ."

In answer she
drew him down again, her kisses robbing him of his senses, inflaming
him once more.

* *
*

prince wang
SAU-LEYAN stood on the balcony of his dead father's room, his hands
resting lightly on the balustrade, his back to his brother's
Chancellor. The broad sweep of the Nile lay below him, bisecting the
empty landscape, its surface glittering in the morning light. He was
dressed in a long silk sleeping robe of lavender decorated with
butterflies, tied loosely at the waist. His feet were bare and his
hair hung long, unbraided. He had been silent for some time, watching
the slow hovering flight of the birds high overhead, but now he
lowered his head, finally acknowledging the waiting man.

"Greetings,
Hung Mien-lo. And how is my brother this fine morning?"

Hung Mien-lo
inclined his head. He was dressed formally, the three tiny pigtails
of his beard braided tightly with silver thread, the dark silks he
wore contrasting with the vermilion sash of office.

"The T'ang
is poorly, Excellency. His nerves were bad and he did not sleep. He
asks that you act as regent for him at todays Council. I have the
authority here, signed and sealed."

The Prince
dipped his hand into a bowl on the balustrade, at his side,
scattering a handful of meat onto the desert floor, then watched the
vultures swoop toward the subtly poisoned bait.

"Good. And
our spies? What have they reported?"

Hung Mien-lo
lifted his head, studying the Prince's back. "That Li Shai Tung
has a scheme. Something his son, Yuan, has proposed. I've sounded
some of our friends."

"And?"

The friends were
a mixture of First Level businessmen and representatives,

government
officials, and selected members of the Minor Families—all of
them men of some influence outside the narrow circle of the Seven.

"They feel
it would be best to oppose such a scheme."

"I see."
He turned, looking at the Chancellor for the first time. "This
scheme. . .what does it involve?"

"They want
to place a device in every citizen's head, a kind of tracking beam.
They believe it would allow for a more effective policing of Chung
Kuo."

Wang Sau-leyan
turned away. It was not a bad idea, but that was not the point. His
purpose was to blunt Li Shai Tung's authority in Council, and what
better way than to oppose his son? If, at the same time, he could win
the support of certain influential members of the Above, then all the
better. When his own plans came to fruition they would be reminded of
his opposition to the scheme.

He turned,
looking back fiercely at Hung Mien-lo. "It is abominable. To put
things in men's heads. Why, it would make them little more than
machines!"

"Indeed,
Excellency. And men should not be machines to be manipulated, should
they?"

Both men
laughed.

"You
understand me well, Chancellor Hung. Too well, perhaps. But I can use
you."

Hung Mien-lo
bowed low. "As your Excellency desires."

"Good."
Wang Sau-leyan smiled and turned, staring out across the delta toward
the distant pinnacle of the lighthouse. "Then you understand the
last step we must take, you and I?"

Hung remained
bowed; but his words came clear, unbowed, almost arrogant in their
tone. "I understand . . .
Chieh Hsia.
"

* *
*

AFTER THE
CHANCELLOR.had gone, Wang Sau-leyan stood there, watching the birds.
At first they seemed unaffected by the poison, but then, first one
and then another began to stagger unsteadily. One flapped its wings
awkwardly, attempting to fly, lifting ten, maybe fifteen
ch'i
into
the air before it fell back heavily to earth. He smiled. Six birds
had taken the poison. He watched them stumble about for a time before
they fell and lay still. More birds were gathering overhead, making
slow circles in the cloudless sky. In a while they too would swoop.
And then . . .