Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 (38 page)

"Oh yes,"
she said bitterly. "We agreed all right. You told me how it
would be and what my choices were. Take it or leave it. I had no
say."

"And you
wanted a say?"

She hesitated,
then drew her face back, looking down, away from him. "I don't
know ... I just feel. . .
hurt
by it all. It feels like you're
rejecting me. Pushing me away."

He reached out
again, this time with his other hand, not thinking. She pushed it
from her, shuddering. And when she looked up, he could see the
aversion in her eyes.

"There's a
part of you that's like that, Ben. Cold. Brutal. Mechanical. It's not
all of you. Not yet. But what you're doing, what you plan . . . I've
said it before, but it's true. I fear for you. Fear that
that
—"
she pointed to the hand—"will take you over, cell by cell,
like some awful, insidious disease, changing you to its own kind of
thing. It won't show on the surface, of course, but I'll know. I'll
see it in your eyes, and know it from the coldness of your touch.
That's what I fear. That's what hurts. Not you going, but your
reasons for going."

He was silent
for a moment, then he sat down next to her. "I see."

She was watching
him, the bitterness purged now from her eyes. She had said it now,
had brought to the surface what was eating at her. She reached out
and took his hand—his human hand—and held it loosely.

"What do
you want, Ben? What, more than anything, do you want?"

He said it
without hesitation; almost, it seemed, without thought. "Perfection.
Some pure and perfect form."

She shivered and
looked away. Perfection. Like the hand. Or like the moonlight.
Something dead. "Do you love me?"

She heard him
sigh; sensed the impatience in him. "You know I do." She
turned slightly, looking at him, her smile sad, resigned now. Letting
his hand fall from hers, she stood and lifted her dress up over her
head, then lay down on the bed beside him, naked, pulling him down
toward her.

"Then make
love to me."

As he slipped
from his clothes she watched him, knowing that for all his words,
this much was genuine—this need of his for her.

You asked
what's real,
she thought.
This—this alone is real.
This thing between us. This unworded darkness in which we meet and
merge. This and this only. Until we die.
"I love you,"
he said softly, looking down at her. "You know that."

"Yes,"
she said, closing her eyes, shuddering as he pressed down into her.
"I know . . ."

And yet it
wasn't enough. For him it would never be enough.

The
East wind sighs, the fine rains come:

Beyond
the pool of water-lilies, the noise of faint thunder.

A
gold toad gnaws the lock. Open it, burn the incense.

A
tiger of jade pulls the rope. Draw from the well and escape.

Chia's
daughter peeped through the screen when Han the clerk was young,

The
goddess of the river left her pillow for the great Prince of Wei.

Never
let your heart open with the spring flowers:

One
inch of love is an inch of ashes.

—LI
SHANG-YIN,
Untitled Poem
,
ninth century A. D.

sERVANTS
CAME running to take their horses, leading them back to the stables.
Fei Yen seemed flushed, excited by the ride, her eyes wide with
enjoyment. Li Yuan laughed, looking at her, and touched her arm. "It
suits you, my love. You should ride more often."

Tsu Ma came up
and stood between them, an arm about each of their shoulders. "That
was good, my friends. And this"—he gestured with his head,
his strong neck turning to encompass the huge estate, the palace, the
lake, the orchards, the view of the distant mountains—"it's
beautiful. Why, the ancient emperors would envy you."

Tsu Ma's eyes
sparkled and his pure white teeth—strong, square, well-formed
teeth—flashed a smile.

"You are
welcome here any time, Tsu Ma," Li Yuan answered him. "You
must treat our stables as your own."

"Thank you,
Li Yuan." Tsu Ma gave a slight bow, then turned, looking down at
Fei Yen. "You ride well, Lady Fei. Where did you learn?"

She looked away,
a slight color in her cheeks. "I've ridden since I was a child.
My father had two horses." She turned back, the way she held her
head displaying an intense pride. In a world where animals were rare,
to own two horses was a matter of some prestige. Only the Seven took
such things for granted.

Tsu Ma studied
her a moment, then nodded. "Good. But let us go in. Your father
will be expecting us."

Li Shai Tung was
sitting in the Summer House, a small comset on his lap. Tiny
three-dimensional holograms formed and faded in the air above the
set, each figure giving its brief report before it vanished. Tsu Ma
sat close by the old man, keeping silent, while Li Yuan went to get
drinks. Fei Yen stood by the window looking down the steep slope
toward the terrace and the ornamental lake. From time to time she
would glance back into the room, her eyes coming to rest on the
casually seated figure of Tsu Ma.

He was a
broad-shouldered, handsome man. Riding, she had noticed how straight
he held himself in the saddle, how unruffled he had been when leading
his horse across a fast-flowing stream, how easily he brought his
mount to jump a wall, as though he were part of the animal he rode.
And yet he was immaculate, his hair groomed and beaded with rubies,
his tunic an achingly sweet shade of pink that was almost white,
edged with black, his trousers of a blue that reminded her of the
summer skies of her youth. She had seen how tightly his thighs had
gripped the flanks of the roan horse; how commanding he had seemed.

Li Shai Tung
finished his business and put the comset down, smiling at Tsu Ma,
then at his daughter-in-law, greeting them wordlessly. Li Yuan turned
from the cabinet, carrying a tray of drinks. He was host here in this
room.

Fei Yen took her
drink and seated herself beside her husband, facing the other men.
She was conscious of how Tsu Ma looked at her. So open. And yet not
impolitely.

"You're
looking well," Li Shai Tung said, looking across at Fei Yen.
"You should ride more often."

Li Yuan leaned
forward. "She was magnificent, Father. A bom horsewoman! You
should have seen how she leaped the meadow gate!" His eyes
flashed wide as he said it, and when he looked at his wife it was
with unfeigned admiration. Tsu Ma saw this and pushed his head back
slightly, as if his collar were too tight. He reached into the inner
pocket of his tunic and took out a slender silver case.

"May I
smoke?" He held out the case and Li Yuan nodded, looking to his
father for approval. The old man said nothing, merely smiled.

Tsu Ma removed
one of the pencil-thin cheroots and lit it, then inhaled slowly,
seeming to relax in his chair as he did so. The silver case lay on
the arm of the chair.

He watched the
smoke curl up, a thin, fragile thread of heated ash. "I must
thank you, Li Yuan. Today has been perfect." His eyes settled on
the young man's face, finding nothing but open friendship there,
perhaps even a degree of admiration. He was used to it; accepted it
as his due. But the look on Fei Yen's face—that was different.
That, too, he recognized, but kept the knowledge to himself. He
raised his glass, toasting his host and hostess silently, his smile
serene, sincere.

Li Shai Tung
watched all, nodding to himself. He seemed well pleased with things.
For the first time in months he was smiling. Tsu Ma saw this and
asked him why.

"I'll tell
you. When we are alone."

The T'ang had
not looked at Fei Yen, and his comment seemed quite innocuous, but
she knew how traditional her father-in-law was. He was not like her
own father; he would not discuss business in front of women. She set
her drink down untouched and stood up, patting Li Yuan's hand, then
turned to bow low to the two T'ang.

"Excuse me,
Chieh Hsia,
but I must go and change. The ride has made me
tired." It was untrue. She had never felt more alive. Her eyes
shone with a barely contained excitement. But she lowered her head
and went quietly from the room, turning only at the door to look
back, finding, as she'd hoped, that Tsu Ma's eyes were on her.

"Well?"
said Tsu Ma when she had gone. His manner seemed no different, and
yet the word seemed somehow colder, more masculine than before.

"Good news.
Both Wu
Shih
and Wei Feng have agreed to our little scheme."

Tsu Ma looked
down. The development was unexpected. "Is that wise?"

"I thought
so," Li Shai Tung continued, noting his hesitation. "In the
present circumstances I felt it... safer... to have the balance of
the Council know of my plans. It would not do to alienate my oldest
friends."

Tsu Ma drew on
the cheroot again, then looked up, meeting his eyes. "No. But
that's not exactly what I meant. This whole business of covert
action. Surely it goes against the spirit of the Council? If we can't
be open with each other—"

"And can
we?" Li Yuan's words were bitter, angry, but at a look from his
father he lowered his head, holding his tongue.

"I
understand your feelings, Li Yuan," Tsu Ma answered him, smiling
at the old T'ang to show he was not offended by his son's
interruption. "But Wang Sau-leyan must
surely not be allowed to triumph. This way, it seems we play into his
hands."

Li Shai Tung was
watching him closely. "Then you will not give your consent?"

Tsu Ma's smile
broadened. "That is not what I said. I was merely pointing out
the underlying logic of this course. Whatever you decide I will
consent to, my father's oldest friend. And not only because of my
respect for my father. I know you would not follow this course if
there were any other way."

Li Shai Tung
smiled then looked down into his lap. "If it helps reassure you,
Tsu Ma, I will say to you what I have already said both to Wu
Shih
and Wei Feng. I do not wish to circumvent the Council in this matter.
This is merely
a
question of research. A fact-finding exercise
before I present my case to Council. The brief of the Project will be
to study only the feasibility of wiring up Chung Kuo's population. It
will fall far short of actual experimentation. After all, it would
not do for me, a T'ang, to breach the Edict, would it?"

Tsu Ma laughed.
"No, indeed. But tell me ... who did you have in mind to look
after the Project? It's a sensitive scheme. The security on it must
be watertight."

"I agree.
Which is why I'm placing Marshal Tolonen in charge."

"Tolonen?"
Tsu Ma considered it a moment, then smiled. "Why, yes, I can see
that that would work very well."

He met the old
T'ang's eyes, a look of understanding passing between them that
escaped the young Prince's notice. For Tolonen would be opposed to
the scheme. He, if anyone, would be guaranteed to keep it in check.

"But
see,
I've talked enough already, and you still know so little about
the scheme itself. Let Li Yuan speak for me now. Let him be my voice
in this matter."

Tsu Ma looked
across at the young man, interested. This was why he had come: to
hear Li Yuan's proposal in detail. "Speak," he said, his
left hand outstretched, palm open. A broad hand with long fingers
clustered with heavy rings. Smoke curled up from beneath the hand.

Li Yuan
hesitated; then, composing himself, he began itemizing the
discoveries they had made at various SimFic establishments,
discoveries that had broken the Edict—things meant to harm the
Seven, now harnessed for their use.

Tsu Ma listened,
drawing on the cheroot from time to time, his smile growing broader
by the moment. Until, finally, he laughed and clapped his hand
against his thigh.

"Excellent!
My word, it is excellent." He rose and went to the window,
looking down the slope. "You have my agreement, Li Shai Tung. I
like this plan. I like it very much."

Tsu Ma turned,
looking back at the young man. Li Yuan was smiling broadly, pleased
with himself, proud of his scheme, and delighted that he had Tsu Ma's
approval. Tsu Ma smiled back at him and nodded, then turned to the
window again.

At the bottom of
the slope, on the terrace above the ornamental lake, a woman was
walking, looking back toward the house. She wore riding clothes and
her long dark hair hung loose where she had just unfastened it. She
was small, delicate, like a goddess made of the finest porcelain. Tsu
Ma smiled and looked away; he turned to face the two men in the room
with him.

"Yes,"
he said, the smile remaining on his lips. "It's perfect, Yuan.
Quite perfect."

* *
*

"Who is
he?"

DeVore turned to
Lehmann and smiled. "His name is Hung Mien-lo and he was
Chancellor to Wang Ta-hung before his recent death."

Lehmann studied
the screen a moment longer, then turned his back on it, staring at
DeVore. "So what is he doing there?"

The film had
been shot secretly by DeVote's man among the
Ping Tiao
. It
showed a meeting Jan Mach had had that morning. A meeting he had been
very anxious to keep a secret from the other
Ping Tiao
leaders.

"I don't
know. But I'm sure of one thing. He wouldn't be there unless Wang
Sau-leyan wanted him there. So the real question is—what does
Wang Sau-leyan want of the
Ping Tiao
?"

"So Hung is
the new T'ang's man now?"