Days of Bitter Strength

But what about this business with Ming Ai? What did that portend? For he knew Ming Ai had been murdered, almost as certainly as if he himself had witnessed it. He had heard the man's screams in the night and knew Hu Wang-chih had had him poisoned. But on whose orders?

Not Pei K'ung's, that was certain. But why would Li Yuan have him poisoned? And why here?

He could answer the last. Here, because no one from Pei K'ung's retinue could prove he had been poisoned. Here, Hu's surgeons could sign the death certificate without any fear of contradiction. And, according to them, Ming Ai had died of a burst appendix.

Okay. But if it had been done on Li Yuan's orders, then why had he not been informed? Because he knew I would object.

Karr ran his tongue across his teeth, disturbed by the thought. Something was going on here that he didn't know about. Indeed, the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that others had been here before him, to hammer out an agreement with Hu Wang-chih. That was why it had been so easy; why Hu was so ready to sign. He had been promised something. Something that wasn't in this document.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced. His was but the public face of a policy that had been agreed long before his visit. And if that were so, then what else was Li Yuan up to that he didn't know about? He looked back at Hu Wang-chih. "You want a brush, Marshal Karr?"

Karr nodded. At once two servants approached, one making a back upon which the other rested a small table holding an ink block and a brush. Handing the servant the scroll, Karr took the brush and inked it, then, as the servant held the agreement open, signed at the bottom beneath Hu Wang-chih's own signature.

The servant took the scroll and, bowing low, handed it to Warlord Hu, accepting the other from him. Again he held it out while Karr signed.

As the servants backed away, Karr turned to face Hu Wang-chih again. Smiling, the Warlord stood and offered Karr his hand. "You'll shake, I hope, Marshal Karr."

Karr took his hand. "I should be getting back."

"Of course," Hu said, his smile unwavering. "Oh, and you may tell your Master than his servant, Ming Ai, will be given a full and proper burial, as befits a man of his great stature."

"Ah . . ." He had been meaning to find a way of raising the subject.

"It was a great pity, neh?" Hu added, a heavy irony both in his voice and in his expression. "Such a great man . . ."

"My Mistress will want a full report."

"Of course. And she shall have it, Marshal Karr. But now, if you would excuse me, I must finish my morning preparations."

Karr bowed. "Excellency."

He was walking back down the corridor toward his quarters, the scroll held loosely in one hand, when the shots rang out. Two close together, and then a third. He spun about, surprised, then began to retrace his steps, the sound of hysterical screaming coming from Hu's quarters.

The doors were wide open when he got there, the place in ' chaos. Guards stood open-mouthed in shock, staring across at the scene in the doorway to the bathroom where, surrounded by kneeling servants, Hu Wang-chih lay in a pool of his own blood. Other servants ran here and there, trying to get help, but a single look told Karr that Hu was beyond mortal assistance. Half of his head had been blown away, and there was another massive hole through his chest. Beyond the fallen man, her face pale, her hands pulled up behind her back, one of the maids who had been tending him was being searched, Hu's Chancellor personally supervising the matter. Nearby a gun lay on the floor; a small service revolver of the type security officers carried.

Aiyal Karr thought, wondering what weight the document he held now carried; what chain of circumstance this little incident would set in motion. Was there a clear successor to Hu Wang-chih, or would there now be a bloody civil war for control - a war that might possibly drag in the Warlord's neighbours?

Karr realised that he didn't know. His briefing hadn't included word of any wives or sons, so maybe there weren't any, but that seemed hardly likely.

He looked about him, then summoned one of the guards - a young lieutenant - to him. The man hurried across, then came to attention, bowing his head.

"Yes, Marshal?"

"Is there somewhere I can make an urgent call?"

The lieutenant hesitated, then, conscious that this was, after all, Marshal Karr, gave a brief nod. "Follow me, sir. I'll take you through to our Communications Office."

As he hurried after him, Karr thanked the gods that his reputation held good here - that soldiers were, after all, soldiers wherever one went.

Li Yuan had to know at once. Not only that, he needed to know what to do - whether to fly back at once or stay here and help out, for maybe his presence here might help stabilise things; might form a solid centre about which things might hold.

But then again, who knew? Those three shots had changed everything.

Li Yuan took the call in his study, Shepherd at his elbow, his Chancellor, Heng Yu, standing nearby.

As Karr's face appeared on the screen, Li Yuan began to smile, but the smile quickly vanished from his face.

"Hu Wang-chih is dead."

"Dead? When?"

"I've come directly from his rooms, Chieh Hsia. He died but a few moments ago."

"Then there's still a chance he'll be resuscitated?"

Karr shook his head. "There's little chance of that, Chieh Hsia. Unless Shih Ward has found a way of putting fragments of a brain back together. Hu Wang-chin was assassinated. One of his maids shot him three times. Two to the head, one to the chest."

"Aiyal" Li Yuan sat back, his face ashen. "His maid . . ."

Clearly the thought of it disturbed him profoundly.

"What is the situation there?" Shepherd asked, moving forward into view. "Has anyone taken charge?"

Karr shrugged. "Not that I know of. But news has yet to go beyond the palace. When it does, who knows how the people will react? If we're to act we must act swiftly."

"Quite so," Li Yuan said, stirring himself. "Have you spoken to the Palace Commander?"

"Not yet, Chieh Hsia." He glanced to the side. "I understand he's on his way here even now."

"Good. Well, tell him we will give him whatever assistance he can. But he must hold the palace and the central media stations until we can provide him with back-up."

Karr nodded thoughtfully. "And the question of succession?"

Li Yuan raised a hand. "Before we come to that, you must meet with Hu's Chancellor. He must be encouraged to speak to his people at once and tell them to stay calm. Again, give whatever guarantees he needs of support"

"Chieh Hsia."

"As for the matter of Hu's successor, this is, unfortunately, clouded. Hu has two sons, but they were estranged from their father years ago and live in neighbouring states. They must be discouraged from pursuing any claim."

"Discouraged, Chieh Hsia?"

"Never mind. I shall deal with that myself. As far as the immediate situation is concerned, I understand the Warlord's widow has a son from a previous relationship. He might be a candidate, if only temporarily. You must speak to his mother as soon as possible and tender our support."

"And if she does not wish her son to succeed?"

Li Yuan laughed, as if the notion were absurd. "Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now go, Gregor. You have much to do."

"Chieh Hsia?

Karr bowed his head smartly as the screen went blank.

Li Yuan sat back, letting out a long breath, then turned, looking up at Shepherd.

"Well? Do you think we have covered all the angles?"

Ben came round and sat on the edge of the desk, looking across at Heng Yu as he spoke. "For the moment. But things are certain to change rapidly as news of Hu's death spreads. We need to stabilise the situation. Make sure none of the neighbouring Warlords decides to capitalise on the momentary chaos to grab territory."

Heng Yu spoke up. "I agree, Chieh Hsia. We must speak to our ambassadors in the neighbouring states and have them warn the Warlords sternly against such action."

Li Yuan frowned. "I'm not so sure. Wouldn't that merely signal our interest in the Mashhad administration? Wouldn't it be tantamount to an open declaration of our alliance with the dead Warlord and his successor?"

"Not at all," Shepherd answered. "We can claim - and legitimately - that our prime concern is for peace in the area. For stability. In that regard, it might be opportune to send in the Fourth Banner Army. At the new administration's invitation, naturally."

"And if they do not give it?" Li Yuan asked.

"Then we send them anyway."

Li Yuan considered that a moment, then nodded. "I think I see what you are saying. You think we might use this new situation to our own advantage - to provoke confrontation and excuse a campaign?"

"Exactly. It's tailor-made."

"Hmm . . ." Again Li Yuan lapsed into thought.

"Chieh Hsia?" Heng Yu asked after a moment.

Li Yuan looked up distractedly. "Yes, Master Heng?"

"What of the Empress? Ought we not to inform her?"

Li Yuan looked to Shepherd, who nodded.

"All right. Inform her. Tell her. . . tell her to come and speak with me at once."

"Chieh Hsia."

"And Heng . . . not a word of what was said here, understand? All you know is what Karr told us on the link."

Heng Yu bowed low. "Of course, Chieh Hsia."

"Then go. We shall speak later."

As Heng departed, Li Yuan leaned across, connecting through to the main guard tower. At once the screen lit up. A young guard stood abruptly bowing his head.

"Is Captain Edmonds there?"

"I'll get him, Chieh Hsia."

The guard moved out of sight. A moment later an older soldier moved before the camera.

"Chieh Hsia?"

"Warlord Hu has been killed."

"Ah . . ." The Captain swallowed, then nodded, his eyes showing a clear understanding of what was required. "The contingency plan is in place, Chieh Hsia. You wish me to . . .?"

Li Yuan nodded, then placed his hand on the pad, cutting connection. He stood, yawning, stretching his neck and shoulders, then turned, looking to Shepherd.

"Necessity," Ben said, as if he read Li Yuan's mind.

"Maybe," he answered. "But sometimes I wonder whether I shall meet them all once I am dead, down there, beneath the yellow springs. Some days I imagine it. I see them all, lined up down there, awaiting me - all the men I've had killed for the sake of peace and stability."

"You should have wired them while you could."

Li Yuan looked up, surprised. "You think so?"

"Oh, I know so. You should never have abandoned that project, Yuan. Control's the key. Give them choice and most men will piss away their chances. They'll soil their own nests." He laughed sourly. "It's negative alchemy, Yuan. Give them gold and they'll turn it into lead, time and again. That's fine if you're talking individuals, but Man's a social creature. It doesn't stop with the self. He has to drag others down with him. Down into the mire."

Li Yuan stared at Shepherd thoughtfully, then nodded. "Perhaps ... But this first, eh? Let's deal with this first."

Pei K'ung was in her bedroom, naked after her bath, about to change when Chu Po burst in on her.

"What is it?" she said, a weary resignation in her voice as she reached for her wrap. "He's gone!"

"Gone? Who?"

"I Ye. The bastard's gone from Edingen!"

She dropped the wrap and came across. "You're certain?"

"He went an hour back. Li Yuan smuggled him out. He's taken him somewhere we can't get to him."

Just as she'd thought he would .. .

She stared at Chu Po a moment, surprised by the obvious concern in his voice. There were good reasons why she should be concerned, but Chu Po? As far as she knew, he didn't have a care in the world. Or was that true? Was there, perhaps, more to this than met the eye? Did I Ye know things about Chu Po that she didn't?

Setting the matter aside, she turned, trying to think it through. Where would Yuan have taken him? Out of the City? To Africa, perhaps? Or had he had him shipped off planet?

She shivered, then put her hand to her brow. Or maybe . . . just maybe, he was still at Edingen - where they would never think to look.

"Ask Cheng Nai shan to come. We'll get our spies onto the matter at once!"

Chu Po nodded and made to turn away, then hesitated, looking back at her.

"Did we ... discover anything?"

She raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"Among I Ye's papers. I hadn't heard . . ."

She stared at him a moment, noting once more the concern in his eyes, then shook her head. "No. Nothing at all."

The relief he showed was palpable.

"A shame," he said, after a moment. "If we'd found the cassette, perhaps . . ."

"The cassette?" She was suddenly, sharply alert. "You mean, he had the cassette?"

Chu Po smiled tightly. "All the time. He took it from the Red Pole he tortured."

"The Red Pole?" She felt a surge of anger. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"You didn't ask."

The answer stung her. "So how didjyow get to know about it? You slept with one of I Ye's men, I suppose?"

Chu Po said nothing, but his smirk was eloquent Even so, there was something here she couldn't fathom. She stepped up close to him, then grasped his chin in a vice-like grip. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He struggled free, then answered her, his eyes glowering at her. '1 told you. You didn't ask You were. . . distracted. You wanted sex, remember? Besides, I thought I'd choose my time to tell you."

"When it might damage I Ye most?"

He smiled. "Why not?"

She pushed her face into his aggressively. "Because it was important, you dolt!"

She had never called him that before, never insulted him. He had always been her favourite, immune from criticism. Her words, therefore, were like a sudden slap. His eyes flared and he positively bristled, turning away from her petulantly.

"I know where it is," he said quietly.

"You know . . ."

Her mouth fell open in shock. He knew and hadn't said. He knew] She reached out, grabbing his arm. "Where? Tell me. . ."

He shrugged her off angrily. "No. Not until you apologise."

"What?"

She checked herself. Her instinct was to swat him like a fly. To have his cock cut off and force-fed to him. But her instinct was wrong. She needed that tape. It washer insurance. With it she could damage her husband, humiliate him; make him a laughing stock throughout his City. She took a calming breath.

"Okay ... I... apologise. You are not a dolt, Chu Po."

"On your knees," he said, turning to face her, his eyes taking in her nakedness at a glance.

"What?" She stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Go on," he said, stepping closer to her, an arrogant expression on his lips now, a coldness in his eyes. "Get on your knees, woman. I want you to say it again. . . this time as if you meant it. And then I want you to suck me off. And then . . ."

She stared at him, waiting. "And then?"

"And then, perhaps, I'll take you there."

For a moment longer she stared at him, deciding in that instant that just as soon as she had the tape in her hands she would have him killed. Then, without another word, she knelt

"What's this I've heard?"

Dragon Heart turned in her seat, then quickly waved her maid away. Pushing back her chair, she stood, facing her father, smiling sweetly at him.

"I don't know what you mean, dada."

"No?" Her father was staring at her sternly, his hands pressed tightly together. "The rumours . . ."

"Rumours?" She took two steps toward him, her whole manner changed abruptly. " What rumours?"

He raised a hand to fend her off, but she was in a rage now.

"It's my sister, isn't it? Isn't it?"

Prince Hsun swallowed, then made to deny it, but he had already lost the initiative.

"She's jealous," Dragon Heart went on. "You know that, don't you? She's always been jealous. Just because the Emperor chooses to spend some time with me, talking, discussing matters, she tries to twist things, to make out that it's somehow . . ." the word exploded from her lips, "dirty\"

Her father stared at her, horrified. "Why, there's no suggestion . . . she . . ."

"There!" she said triumphantly. "I knew it! She's poisonous! Poisonous!"

"Now come . . ." he began, but she had turned away and gone to the window, lowering her head and dabbing at her eyes with a silk, as if upset.

"My dear," he began again, "I didn't mean . . ."

"No ... no..." She sniffed, then, without turning, put out a hand behind her for him to take. He stepped across and grasped it.

"I was only trying to help," she said quietly. "To gain the T'ang's good favour and help smooth the way for her."

"I know ... I know," he said, whatever barb he'd had completely drawn by her. "I was merely concerned, that’s all. This is a big week for your sister. I didn't want things. . .spoiled."

"Spoiled?" There was the slightest edge of petulance in her voice, yet when she turned it was with a smile. She reached out, taking his other hand. "I'd never do that, dada. Never."

He embraced her, smiling, patting her back. "I know ... I know ... I just . . ." He shrugged. "Well, I'll leave you to complete your . . . your . . ."

She nodded, smiling as he backed from the room. As the door closed she let out her breath, the smile vanishing from her face.

"Never," she said softly, turning to the window again and staring out toward the Western Palace. "She'll never become Empress! Not if I can help it!"

She looked to the side, to her dressing table, then snatched up the silk he had sent her that morning - a beautiful lavender silk with an emerald edging that his dead wife, Kuei Jen's mother, Mien Shan had worn on the day of her wedding.

The significance of the gift had not escaped her. She was close, very close now.

Dragon Heart looked back across the gardens, noting movement on the path to her left. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought that it might be Li Yuan, coming to see her again, but it wasn't him, it was that stunted dwarf Ward and his son. She shuddered. Even the way he walked was odd and ungainly, as if he wasn't used to walking on the solid earth.

She turned away, looking about her at the luxury of her room, then, summoning her maid, returned to her preparations.

Today, she thought as she sat, letting the girl begin to comb out her hair again. It has to be today.

At the gate to the Western Palace, Kim stopped and turned to face his son.

"Look," he said awkwardly. "I have to see Li Yuan. It's a private matter. It would be best..."

"I understand," Sampsa answered. He smiled boyishly at his father and reached out to touch his arm. "Besides, I've things to do myself."

Kim raised an eyebrow in query. "With Tom, you mean?"

Sampsa nodded and made to go, but Kim called him back. "Sampsa?"

"Yes, father?"

"Don't get too familiar."

Sampsa stared at him strangely. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at this moment."

"But there might be?" Sampsa looked down, disturbed by this sudden turn, then looked back at his father, his voice lowered. "So what's happening?"

"Nothing. And I aim to keep it that way. But if something does . . ."

Sampsa shrugged. "All that . . . That's between you and Shepherd, surely?"

"It's not as simple as that."

Sampsa stared at him in disbelief. "Let me get this right. You're talking about a breach with Shepherd? He on one side, you on another?"

Kim hesitated, then answered his son honestly. "It's possible. It's more than possible, in fact. It depends on what happens here today."

"And Li Yuan? What does he think of this?"

Kim looked away, the answer written in his face. He hadn't told Li Yuan. This was a decision he had made only in the last few hours.

Sampsa laughed incredulously. "But you saved Shepherd's life!"

Kim looked back at him. "So?" He shook his head. "I finally worked it out, last night, after it had all happened. I finally understood what I've known deep down for years. We're on different sides, he and I. We always have been. But it's never been important. Not before now."

Sampsa was silent for a time, then he nodded. "I see."

"Then you'll be careful ... I mean, with Tom Shepherd."

Sampsa met his father's eyes. "I'm sorry, but that's between you and him. That's your argument."

"But you don't understand . . ."

Sampsa shook his head sadly. "No. It's you who doesn't understand." Then, without a further word, he turned and walked away.

Li Yuan looked up from where he sat at his desk, surrounded by his aides, and looked to Kim.

"Could this possibly wait, Kim? Something's come up."

Kim looked past Li Yuan at Shepherd, who stood at the window, one foot on the low window seat, staring out across the palace gardens, and shrugged.

"If s not important," he said, conscious of the unusual activity in Li Yuan's rooms - of the way servants ran back and forth on urgent errands. "I'll speak to you later. It was just. . ."

Li Yuan had looked down, studying a document. As Kim paused, he looked up again. "Yes?"

"No matter," he said. "We'll speak later. When you're less busy."

"Good. . ." But Li Yuan had already forgotten him, it seemed.

Kim turned, meaning to go, but Shepherd called him back. "Kim? Might I have a word?"

He turned, waiting as Shepherd came across.

"Not here," Shepherd said, moving past him. "In my rooms."

He let Shepherd lead him through. Security investigators were at work in the outer rooms, scanning floors and walls with special equipment. Inside, in the main workroom, things seemed back to normal. Kim stepped past Shepherd, letting him close the door behind him then turned, looking about him. Only then did he see her, sitting beside the fireplace, her tiny form dwarfed by the size of the chair.

She stared at him silently out of dark Han eyes.

"So?" Kim asked, looking to Shepherd again. "What is it?"

Shepherd smiled. "I just wanted to say thank you ... for what you did last night. You needn't have got involved."

Kim shrugged. His eyes flicked to the young girl, then back to Shepherd again. "I did what I had to, that's all." He shivered. "You know, I don't really . . ."

" . . .like me?" Shepherd finished. He laughed. "I know that. That's what made it so strange. After they'd taken you to the surgeon last night - even as I was standing in the cells with Li Yuan, watching him interrogate the man - I kept asking myself why you did that. Why you'd risked yourself." Kim was silent.

"And I think I understand. At least, theoretically. You think life ought to be fair, don't you? Or should I say, you want it to be. You know it isn't, but you rebel against that. The truth of what people are ... you don't like that, so you get involved. You interfere."

"You're complaining?" Kim said coldly. Shepherd laughed. "In this one instance, no. As I said, I'm grateful. Very grateful. In fact, I thought I'd give you a gift to show how grateful I am." He turned, indicating the girl. "She's yours."

"Mine?" Kim frowned. "I don't understand." Shepherd smiled. "This is Chuang Kuan Ts'ai. She was given to me by Li Yuan. But I'd like you to have her." Kim still didn't understand. "Whose child is she?" "No one's. In fact, technically she's not even a child. She's dead." "Dead?"

Shepherd took the signed edict from his pocket and handed it to Kim. Kim read it quickly, then looked up, shocked.

"A traitor? No . . ." He laughed oddly. "I don't believe it. Why she can't be any older than . . ."

"Seven. And yes, she was condemned to death. Only I asked for her to be spared. And Li Yuan agreed. He gave her to me, to do with as I pleased."

Kim stared at him, not liking the sound of that. But Shepherd was not forthcoming.

"All right. But why give her to me?" "Because of how you are. Because . . ." Shepherd shrugged. "I don't know. It seemed like fate. I can't give you the life I owe you. Not mine, anyway. So I'm giving you another. To make us even, if you like. So that I'm not indebted to you."

"Ah . . ." Some vague glimmer of understanding began to dawn. Kim stared at the young girl again. She was looking down now, her hands clenched together in her lap, clearly disturbed by their conversation. There was still something Shepherd hadn't said.

"You understand then?"

Kim looked back at him. "No. Not fully. But I'll take her. If it makes you feel better about yourself."

He saw the tiny flare of anger at that and knew he'd read things correctly in the night. They were enemies. Fated to be enemies. What had happened last night hadn't been meant to happen. It was a glitch. An anomaly. But now Shepherd had set things right. Now that he'd given Kim the girl - given back the life he owed - they could be enemies again.

Kim put a hand out to the girl. "Here, child. You'll come with me, neh?"

She glanced at him, then, putting her head down again, gave a single nod.

"Good." He looked to Shepherd. "Was that her real name? Coffin-filler?"

Shepherd smiled. "It seems they thought she was still-born. She was crated up for the Oven Man to burn. Then she started crying and he adopted her. Unofficially, of course." He laughed. "Rather ironic, wouldn't you say? Officially she was never born. All her life she hasn't existed, not officially. Now - officially - she's dead."

Kim shuddered, then felt the girl's fingers close about his own. He looked down. She stood there, silent and placid.

"And her adopted father?"

Shepherd shrugged. "Christ knows! I suppose he thinks she's dead."

"Ah .. ." He glanced down at the child again. She was " holding his hand much tighter now. "By the way, what were you going to do with her?"

He looked up, meeting Shepherd's eyes. But Shepherd said nothing; he merely smiled, the darkness in his eyes revealing nothing.

Walking back through the corridors, Kim was silent, wondering what he would say to Jelka; how he would explain this sudden turn of events. As far as she knew, nothing had happened in the night: she knew nothing of the second thoughts he'd had that had made him return to Shepherd's rooms, nor anything of his subsequent heroics. But he would have to tell her at some stage - yes, and also what he had decided.

And now there was the complication of the girl.

"Aiya," he said quietly, pausing outside the door to his suite of rooms. "What to do?"

He looked down at her. She was staring at him, something strange going on behind her eyes, as if she was steeling herself to ask him something.

"What is it?" he asked. But the words merely frightened her. Abruptly, she averted her eyes, tucking her head into her chest.

Taking a long breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Jelka's voice greeted him from the bathroom. "Kim? ... Is that you, Kim?"

She stepped out from the doorway on the far side of the room, smiling, towelling her hair, her white bathrobe draped about her, then stopped dead.

"Kim? What's going on? Who's she?"

Kim closed the door, then led the child across. "Jelka, this is Chuang Kuan Ts'ai. She is... a gift, from Shih Shepherd to us."

"A gift?" Jelka laughed, then shook her head. "You're not serious, are you? People don't give gifts of children to each other."

"No," he said. "Not normally. But I saved his life. Last night. There was an assassin . . ."

Again she laughed, as if this were a joke; then, realising it wasn't, she swallowed. "Assassins? In the San Chang?"

Kim nodded.

"And the girl?"

"She's dead. Officially, that is. Shepherd had her. It seems Li Yuan gave her to him."

She stared at him incredulously. "Why? I mean . . ."

Jelka shook her head, then came across, crouching beside the girl. She studied her a moment, then looked up at Kim again. "She can't be more than seven. What is she? The illegitimate daughter of some Minor Family Princess or something?"

"No. She's what her name suggests. She was left for dead at birth. Apparently an Oven Man saved her, brought her up."

And now, suddenly, the child began to cry.

"Hey . . . hey now!" Jelka took her in her arms, holding her, comforting her as she sobbed. "What is it, Little Chuang?"

The girl looked up at Jelka, her tongue loosened, it seemed, by her tears. "Uncle Cho . . . you've got to find Uncle Cho! You've got to warn him that I Ye has been imprisoned. You've got to. Please . . ." She shuddered, then fell silent.

Jelka looked up at Kim again. "What's been going on?"

Kim shrugged. "I don't know. I was unconscious for a time."

"Unconscious?"

"The assassin kicked me . . ."

Her eyes widened, alarmed. "Kicked you? Where?"

He turned his head, touching where it was yet tender. "It's okay. Just a small bruise. There's no damage."

But he could see how concerned she was. She stood, lifting the child and holding her to her shoulder, then, putting her face close to the child's, spoke to her softly. "Okay, little Chuang. This Uncle Cho. Where does he live? How would we find him?"

From the top floor of his high-rise offices in Central Ludwig-shafen, Michael Lever could see the walls of the San Chang to the east and, equidistant beyond them and slightly to the south, the towers of NorTek's massive Heidelberg complex. He stood there a moment, the fingers of his right hand touching the clear ice-glass wall, thinking of the conversation he'd had with Ward, Ebert and his son, then turned, looking across the huge expanse of carpeted floor to his desk, where his assistant, Johnson, waited patiently, a stack of business files beneath his arm.

"Well, Dan?" he asked, a tiredness in his voice, "what's top of the agenda this morning?"

"This," Johnson answered, coming across and handing him a single slip of paper.

Lever took it and stared at it, then looked back at his old friend and shrugged.

"I don't understand. What's been found?"

"Emily," Johnson answered softly. "They've found Emily."

The news was like a hammer blow. He stared at Johnson in disbelief, then, looking down, he quietly began to cry, hunched into himself.

Johnson stood there, looking aside, saying nothing; knowing how important the moment was for Lever.

With a sniff, Lever raised his head again, wiping his face with his hand. "Okay. Do we know where she is?"

"Edingen. The prison."

"The prison?" Then he saw it. Of course. "Who informed us?"

Johnson looked at the top file. "A Captain Dawes of Security."

"One of Karr's men . . ."

Johnson shook his head. "He's one of I Ye's."

Lever raised an eyebrow. "You'll make sure he gets the reward, anyway?"

"Says he doesn't want it. Says he's sympathetic. He . . ." Johnson paused, then took a slender disc from the file, "he sent this."

Lever took it, stared at it. "What is it?"

"A copy of a security file. On it there's an interesting conversation you had with Ward, Ebert and Ebert's son, Pauli."

Lever made a sound of surprise. "There must have been a hidden camera."

Johnson made a wry face. "You were in the San Chang."

Lever laughed. "A regular whispering gallery, huh?" Johnson smiled. "Whatever, it seems you've a friend in this Dawes."

He nodded, then, with a determined little movement of his hand, went across to his desk and sat. For a moment he did nothing, just sat there staring into the air, then he looked back at Johnson, who had followed him across.

"Do you think I should go there, Dan? Buy her out?" Johnson shook his head. "I wouldn't, if I were you. We've agents who can do that kind of thing. Besides, it might be best to find out a bit more about her situation. Where she's been? Who she's been living with? What she's been doing all these years?"

Lever swallowed and looked down. The truth was, he didn't really want to know. After all, what if she'd been happy all these years? What if she'd met someone and fallen in love? What if she hadn't thought of him?

He looked up again and gave Johnson a pained nod. "Okay. Who've we got that can do that kind of thing?"

"I'll use our friend Matloff. He knows the Senior Warder at Edingen. He's also got friends at the Ministry. And he owes us a favour."

"Matloff?" Lever pulled a face. "Isn't there someone better we can use?"

"No one with the kind of pull he has. Oh, I know what you think of him, but he gets the job done. And right now . . ."

Lever raised a hand. "Okay. See to it, Dan. And no balls-ups, right?"

"Right!"

Not waiting to deal with any of the other business, Johnson turned and hurried from the room.

Lever sat back, steepling his hands before his face, and let out a long, shuddering sigh. Then, standing again, he went back to the window and stood there, looking west again to where, sandwiched between the San Chang and the towers of NorTek beyond, the dark, basaltic walls of Edingen prison thrust up from the surrounding streets.

"Em," he said softly, tracing her name on the glass. "My darling Em."

Karr stood in the cold and draughty hallway of the Secondary Palace, waiting as the steward went to deliver his message.

It had been three hours since he had first requested an audience with the Warlord's widow and in that time a great deal had happened.

Word had come from neighbouring Turkmenistan that Hu Wang-chih's second son, Feng-lo, had declared himself the rightful ruler and was preparing to return to Mashhad with a substantial military force. Shortly after, news had come that Feng-lo had been killed - blown up along with half the Ashkhabad palace, including the local Warlord Meng Yi.

Karr stared down at the cracked tiles of the hallway and sniffed thoughtfully. Despite the removal of that inconvenience, things didn't bode well. News of Hu's death had triggered widespread civil disobedience throughout Mashhad. By all accounts the local security forces had lost control of large parts of the City and communications with other parts of the country had been cut off. The First Minister, Ji Wang, had fled, along with many of his circle, and there was a rumour that there had been a mutiny at the Kerman barracks in the south. And now this, Karr thought, staring about him at the dilapidated condition of the widow's palace. Just one look at this place had been enough to convince him that this was a mistake. Whoever it was who would finally come out on top of this muckheap of a state, it wasn't likely to be someone from here. From all he could make out, the Warlord's widow had few supporters among the various palace factions. She was a recluse, rarely seen, and even her son . . . "Marshal Karr?"

Karr turned, looking toward the doors through which he'd just come. A young man was standing there - a very upright and impressive-looking Han in his mid-twenties, dressed in expensive yet modestly-cut silks.

"Forgive me for not seeing you before now," he said, coming across to Karr, his eyes revealing that he considered Karr his equal, "but as you'll understand, I have had much to arrange. The situation is deteriorating by the moment."

Karr made to nod, then stopped. "Forgive me," he said. "I do not wish to be rude, but I am at a loss. You are?"

The young man bowed his head, then straightened up. There was something awfully familiar about him; about his features, even the way he stood there, relaxed and elegant in his own body. Something princely.

He smiled, showing perfect teeth. "Forgive me, Marshal Karr, but I am Hu Wang-chih's adopted son, Han Ch'in. I understand you wish to see me."

"Well?" Matloff asked, leaning across the table as Senior Warden Chao opened the envelope and unfolded the letter that contained the banker's bond. "Have we a deal?"

Chao Chung picked up the bond and held it up to the light. His eyes widening, he studied the payment carefully - checking that each detail was correct - before he looked to Matloff again, giving a low whistle. Setting the bond down, he sat back, sucking his teeth.

"I would love to do business with you, Shih Matloff. Your terms are most . . . persuasive, let's say. However, my hands are tied."

Matloff, who'd been about to say something else - to conclude the deal post haste and get out of there as quickly as he could - moved back, surprised. "I beg pardon?" "I said, my hands ..."

"I heard what you said." Matloff gave a short laugh then shook his head. "I don't understand, that"s all. Isn't it enough?" "Oh, if s plenty. Very generous. Very generous indeed of your Master. But I..." Chao swallowed, "I can't cash it."

"Can't. . ." Matloff narrowed his eyes, suspecting some kind of scam. "What do you mean?"

The Senior Warden was still staring at the bond, a mixture of intense longing and profound and bitter disappointment in his eyes. Finally, he looked up at Matloff and signed heavily. "I mean, I cannot make a deal with you, Shih Matloff, much as I would love to. You see, the order for Nu Shi Ascher's arrest was signed by I Ye. Well, now that I Ye has been arrested, he cannot countermand that order. Only Karr could do that. Or Li Yuan himself . . ."

Matloff stared at him a long moment, letting the anger he felt die down, then, snatching back the letter and the bond, turned and stormed from the office.

Behind him, Chao Chung stared at the empty desk, then groaned. Five million yuan! He had just missed the chance of earning a cool five million yuan! Again he groaned. It had been a bad day for him. A very, very bad day.

Emily woke and stretched herself. For a moment she forgot where she was. For a second or two she was back at Make Do House, about to get up and start the day's routine. She turned, meaning to call to Lin in the next room, to tell him to get up, then froze, remembering.

For a long time after that she lay there, perfectly still, staring at the wall, a kind of numbness, part cold, part shock, eating at her. Then, slowly, very slowly, sound began to return to her world.

There was a dull banging from somewhere far off, below her, it seemed, in the very depths of the earth itself. Closer, in a cell nearby, a prisoner coughed; a relentless, hacking cough that spoke of bad lungs and damp conditions. For a time that was it. Then, at a distance, there was the sound of footsteps echoing on a metal staircase, of keys jangling in a belt. There was the faintest snatch of song, coming closer now, a cheerful humming that stopped outside her door. Again the keys jangled. She heard the key slide into the locx, the lock r'ick and turn.

She turne 1 her head. The guard was standing in the open doorway, looking across to where she lay on the pallet bed. He smiled and slowly beckoned to her with his crooked index finger.

What is it? she wanted to ask, but her mouth was too dry. She knew what it was. She was going to die. They were going to execute her, now, without a trial.

She sat up, facing him. Her head was pounding, as if someone had tied a metal band around her brow. Her hands where they rested on the edge of the bed felt like shapeless iron weights, pinning her there. Altogether, her body felt wrong somehow. She could feel her feet as if they were suddenly much bigger, much heavier than they'd ever been, and her tongue seemed huge and thick in her mouth, as if it would choke her.

Slowly she raised her eyes, looking to the guard. Again he smiled and beckoned to her, showing rotten teeth. But she couldn't move. It was like she had been drugged.

He came and stood over her, then leaned down, poking her hard in the chest.

"You've gotta come. Warder Chao wants a word. He says a man has come."

The words didn't penetrate at first. It was like they were large stones, sinking, slowly sinking through vast depths of murky water.

A man? . . . What man?

He reached beneath her arms and pulled her up, then stared into her face, the smell of his breath the first real thing that registered.

"You hear me, woman? You gotta come."

She grimaced and moved her face aside; then, realising he had addressed her, nodded her head.

"Okay." He reached down, placing the cuffs back on her wrists, then looked at her again. "You come with me, right? And no tricks. You can't get out of here. Not unless we let you." He laughed. "Not alive, anyway."

Again she nodded. Then, looking to him, she spoke, her voice a whisper.

"What man?"

The guard laughed, then, taking her arm, he led her to the door. "You'll find out soon enough. Now let's get going. Warder Chao doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Is this the place?"

Kim held open the curtain of the sedan as the girl looked out. Fearfully she nodded. The place seemed deserted, the gate wide open.

"Wait here," he said, leaving her in Jelka's care, then stepped out, looking to his runners. "You three, come with me."

They went inside. The courtyard was empty, the doors to the storeroom and the Ovens open. The storeroom too was empty, the Ovens cold. A fine layer of ash covered everything.

Kim frowned, then stepped out into the courtyard again. It seemed abandoned. He looked across at the door to the living quarters, then walked across. The door seemed closed, but when he put his hand to it, it swung back easily.

"Hello? Is anyone home?"

Nothing. Not even a drip from a leaking tap. He went inside, looking into the first two rooms on either side of the hallway, then stopped, noticing something on the floor ahead of him.

"Lu Nan Jen?"

The man lay there on his side, unmoving, his eyes open, staring straight ahead. Kim went to him and crouched, putting his hand down to see if he could feel a breath, but there was nothing. He touched his brow. It was cold. Looking down the body he could see now how stiff its posture was. Dead. The Oven Man was dead.

"Aiya," Kim murmured softly. There was no sign of any violence. No blood, no sign of any struggle. He had just died. A heart attack perhaps, or maybe he had simply given up. Whatever, he was gone. There was no calling him back from where he was, whatever Shepherd thought on the matter.

Kim reached down and closed Cho's eyes, then stood, looking about him. Only then did he notice the piece of paper that lay on the floor beside the Oven Man's hand. He had been holding it, perhaps.

He picked it up and looked at it, then, conscious of whose signature was on the bottom of the page, hurried out into the courtyard.

So here it is, he thought, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket. Proof positive, if such was needed, of I Ye's guilt.

Not that it mattered now. He sighed, then stretched his neck, wondering how he'd tell the girl, then realised she was standing there by the open gate, Jelka just behind her.

Meeting his eyes, her own understood at once. She shivered, then, bearing up, said simply, "Where is he?"

"Inside," he said. "It seems he had a heart attack. He's . . ." he swallowed, "he's at peace now."

"Can I see?"

"I . . ."

"I have to see," she interrupted, surprising him with her insistence. "I have to be sure he's gone. He . . ." She looked down suddenly, controlling herself, willing herself to be brave and not to cry. After a moment she looked up again. "Will you help me?"

Kim stared at her. "Help you? How?"

She took a step toward him. "The Ovens. We have to light the Ovens."

He shook his head, horrified by the notion. "It'll be seen to.

He .. ."

"No," she said, taking another step. "We have to bum him.

It's what he would have wanted."

He stared at her, astonished. "But you can't. You're . . ."

You 're what? he asked himself. A child? He sighed heavily. A child, yes, but she had an adult's understanding.

"Okay," he said. "But afterwards you come with us."

"I can't. The Ovens . . ."

Jelka, who had moved behind her, put her hands softly on the child's shoulders. "You have to, Chuang. You can't stay here."

"No . . ." The child shivered violently, then looked down. "I guess not."

Jelka squeezed her shoulders gently, then met Kim's eyes. "We'll do things properly, neh? Give your Uncle Cho a proper ceremony. Then you come home with us, okay, little Chuang? Home. For as long as you want to stay."

Two Security officers met Emily in the corridor outside the Warden's office and, relieving the prison guard, took her inside, pushing her down into a chair, then stood to either side of her as the Warden opened a file and, smiling, looked up at her across his desk.

A nondescript, middle-aged Han sat silently in the corner of the office, his eyes taking in everything.

"Well, Nu Shi Ascher," Chao began, "it seems there's a great deal of interest in your fate."

Chao waited, but there was no reaction from her. He looked down thoughtfully, then, smiling to himself, decided on another approach.

"Your boys ..." he began.

"What of them?"

He looked up. "Ah, good. I have your attention now, have I?" He shuffled the papers about, conscious of the silent figure in the corner. "How are they?" she asked, leaning toward him, a slight edge to her voice.

Chao smiled. "They are as well as might be expected, considering. As long as you live, they live." He let that sink in, then closed the file. "Anyway, that's by the by. It seems we are at something of an impasse. I have here the order for your committal. Unfortunately it is not signed." His smile was apologetic. "Li Yuan, it appears, is busy right now. And until our friend here . .." he half turned, vaguely indicating the seated man, "can get to see him, so things remain."

She was silent a long while after that, her eyes never leaving his face. Then, "So when's the trial?"

Chao stared at her then laughed. "Trial? There'll be no trial. You've already been tried. Tried and found guilty. The only reason you're still sitting there is because of a technicality." He took a single sheet of paper from the file and thrust it before her. "Until this committal document is signed, the trial, though it has taken place in realitv, has not taken place in law." He smiled, as if it were all self explanatory. "The chain of documentation must be unbroken, you understand . . ."

She went to touch it, but he withdrew it quickly, as if it were the most valuable piece of paper in creation. As it was, for her. But for him? She stared at him a moment, trying to work it out, but nothing came. She was dead. And Lin and the boys too. Silently, she began to cry.

"Oh, come now, Nu Ski Ascher. No sentiment, please, not after what you've done." He opened the file and turned to the relevant page. "I mean . . . skinning young men alive . . ."

"They did it first," she said coldly, not really caring what he thought.

"So you say," he said, flicking through the file and nodding. "Even so, maybe I'll copy this. Show it to your boys."

"No!"

She sat back slowly, realising that that was exactly the response he'd been hoping for. She looked down. "They'd not believe you."

"No?" He laughed unpleasantly, then turned the file about. "The shots are ... interesting."

She sighed. "What do you want?"

"Me?" He leaned toward her. "Why, nothing, Nu Shi Ascher. I am my Master's hands!" He glanced at the man in the corner and smiled reassuringly. "I wish only to see justice carried out."

She stared at him, understanding finally. Some kind of deal was going on. Something to do with the price on her head and who would collect it. As for herself . . .

The last hope guttered in her. This was the end. Nothing could save her now. Nothing.

She stood and was immediately forced back down by the Security officers to either side of her.

"It's over," Chao said, sitting back and steepling his hands. "That's all I really wanted to say to you." And, gesturing to the guards, he threw the file down to the side and turned his head away, as if he had other business to attend to. Yet even as she was pulled to her feet, even as she heard the door clang open behind her, she saw the look in Warden Chao's face and knew it was not quite finished with.

Han Ch'in leaned forward in his seat, looking at Karr, and smiled.

"I hear what you are saying, Marshal Karr, but I cannot see how you can really help."

Karr laughed. "Help? Why, haven't I just said?"

"Oh, I heard what you said, Marshal, and, in other circumstances, I might be very grateful for your offer, but I think you don't quite understand the situation. The garrison at Kerman is mine, and those at Esfahan and Babol. Mashhad, as of this moment, is also in my hands. I have secured all media stations and all but one of the main transportation centres. But that too will shortly be mine." He smiled urbanely. "Our enemies are routed, Marshal Karr. All is in hand."

Karr stared at him. "I don't understand."

"No?" The young man stood, then walked to the window of the room they were in. "I thought you of all people would understand it perfectly. It has all been in place for a long time now. It awaited but the moment. That's why Ji Wang got out as quickly as he could. He knew."

Karr nodded slowly. "So you had Warlord Hu killed?"

Han Ch'in turned back, staring at Karr. "Not at all. I rather liked old Hu. And I even suspect he liked me. He certainly liked mother at one point. Couldn't keep out of her rooms. Before she kicked him out. . ."

Karr frowned. "Then all of this . . ."

"Is accident." Han Ch'in smiled once more and came across, stopping directly in front of Karr. "Yet the wise man plans for accidents, neh? Or so my mother taught me."

"Your mother?"

"You want to meet her?"

Karr hesitated, then nodded.

"Sorry," Han Ch'in said, his smile apologetic, "but that cannot be done. She will see no one anymore. No one but me, that is. Her eyes . . ." He made a pained expression. "She was hurt, you see. When things fell apart. The Warlord became her protector. Rescued her, you might say. Yes, and claimed his reward too, in full, until. . ."

" . . .she kicked him out"

"Yes," Han Ch'in laughed warmly. "You are learning, Marshal." He paused, then sighed. "Things have been tough these past twelve years. Simply to survive . . . well, that itself has been a kind of triumph. But now . . ." He shook his head. "But I am forgetting myself, Marshal Karr. I should have said before. Your craft is awaiting you, upstairs on the palace roof."

"Then this is . . ."

"Goodbye. For the time being." Han Ch'in smiled and extended his hand in farewell. "But we shall meet again, Gregor Karr, be assured of it. Mother has plans."

It sounded ominous. Karr took the young man's hand and shook it, conscious, yet again, of something curiously familiar about him, but what it was he still did not know.

"Our offer . . ."

"Is rejected out of hand." Han Ch'in shook his head regretfully. "We are enemies, Marshal Karr, and must remain so until things are resolved between your Master and I. But let us not speak of such things now, eh, let us part on amicable terms."

"Amicable . . ." Karr stared at the young man, impressed yet baffled by his confidence - his princely arrogance - then, with a bow, he turned and left, letting a waiting officer escort him out and up onto the windswept roof where his craft awaited him.

It was raining heavily as the cruiser landed, its matt black, spiderish shape setting down amidst the ruined castle's grounds. As the engine died, two men ran from the cover of the gatehouse, their hoods raised against the onslaught. Overhead, thunder crashed, while in the distance the sky lit up with a flickering dance of lightning.

Rain beaded the glass of the craft's reinforced windows. As the door hissed open and the ramp began to unfold, a face appeared briefly at one of the windows, peering out. A moment later, a tall, shaven-headed figure appeared in the hatchway, one hand on the doorframe as he stared up at the giant keep of Helsingborg castle that dominated the skyline.

"Safe," I Ye whispered to himself, smiling at the thought Then, ignoring the downpour, he stepped out, walking slowly, almost casually, down the ramp toward where the two hooded figures waited, hunched into themselves against the elements. As he came alongside, one of them pulled back his hood and, combing a hand back through his hair, smiled at his former master.

"Colonel I?" he said, half shouting against the noise of the storm. I Ye grinned, recognising the man, then leaned in toward him. "What is it, Sergeant?"

-,.."A message," the Sergeant shouted back.

"A message?" I Ye's smile wavered.

"From the Empress," the man answered, drawing a long dagger from within his cloak and sinking it deep into I Ye's chest.

The rain fell. Slowly the ramp retracted, the door hissed closed. After a moment the craff s engines came to life again and it lifted away from the ancient ruin. As it turned and banked, vanishing into the cloud-wreathed sky, a lightning flash illuminated the scene in the castle's courtyard.

I Ye lay on his back, the dagger buried to the haft in his chest, his mouth open in an Oh of surprise. Rain fell on his ash pale face, sluicing away his blood.

For a moment the Sergeant stood over him, grinning like a dog, then he turned, looking to his colleague.

"Loyal unto death," he said, and laughed, his laughter swallowed by the thunder and the incessant rain.

Pei K'ung leaned over the desk and signed the document. Straightening up, she gave her husband a brief nod, then, with a glance about the crowded space, swept from the room.

Li Yuan watched her go, then, sighing, looked down at the Edict. Copies would be posted throughout the city before morning, informing his subjects that, in the interest of peace and stability in the Central Asian region, they had moved into the neighbouring territories of Mashhad and Turkmenistan, which would henceforth be considered "protectorates".

He smiled. The ships were already in the air, heading for their destinations; four hundred and eighty thousand men in all -almost a quarter of his Eastern Banner. Further forces would be despatched within the next few days, once provisions and supplies had been arranged. Until then, Karr could hold things together.

Li Yuan turned and looked to his Chancellor, who stood among a group of Ministers and high-ranking officers on the far side of the room.

"Master Heng, have we heard from the Marshal yet?"

"Nothing, Chieh Hsia."

"And Haavikko?"

Heng Yu came across and bowed. "Colonel Haavikko is here, Chieh Hsia, in the anteroom, awaiting your instructions."

"Good. Send him in."

Heng Yu bowed again, then turned, signalling to one of his secretaries to bring Haavikko. The man was back in an instant, bowing low as he led in a tall, distinguished-looking officer with short grey hair.

Li Yuan, looking at Haavikko, was conscious of how much he looked like the old Marshal, Knut Tolonen, now that he'd reached his fifties. Or maybe it was just the military life that did it - reducing men to interchangeable cyphers. Whatever, for the briefest instant he had a strong feeling of deja vu - as if he were his father and Haavikko the old rock-faced General.

"Colonel Haavikko," he said, standing up to greet the man, then coming round the desk to stand before him. "You recall a conversation we had a year or so ago."

Haavikko, who had until that moment seemed wary, now looked up, suddenly very alert. "I do, Chieh Hsia."

"Good. Because the time has come. We need to act, and at once."

"At once, Chieh Hsia?"

Li Yuan smiled, strangely relaxed now that it was all happening at last. "Oh, you can wait an hour. Then do what must be done. It is all in hand, I hope?"

"Of course, Chieh Hsia." Haavikko hesitated, then bowed his head smartly. "An hour it is, Chieh Hsia."

"Good. Report back to me when things are accomplished."

"Chieh Hsial" Again Haavikko bowed low, then, coming smartly to attention he turned and marched from the room.

Li Yuan looked to Heng Yu, seeing how the man was watching him, and smiled again. "All in good time, Master Heng. All in good time."

But Heng was still watching, as if something were troubling him.

"Is there something else, Master Heng?"

"I.. ." There was a brief inner struggle, and then he fished in his cloak pocket and brought out a tiny slip of paper, handing it to Li Yuan.

Li Yuan unfolded it and read it quickly, then looked up. "When did this come?"

Heng moistened his lips with his tongue. "An hour back, Chieh Hsia. While you were preparing the document."

"And was this all?"

Heng nodded.

"Who brought the message?"

"It was her father, Chieh Hsia."

"Her father . . ." He stared at the note, surprised by that. After all, the note was not sealed, it was simply folded.

"Have you . . . read this, Master Heng?"

Heng hesitated, then nodded again.

"And having read it, you felt it... unimportant, perhaps?"

"Not unimportant, Chieh Hsia," Heng answered, almost squirming now, "simply not. . . urgent."

"I see."

Li Yuan turned, placing the note to his mouth, conscious of its faintly perfumed scent. Then, unfolding it, he read the words again.

I must see you. At once. Dragon Heart.

Heng Yu was right, there was no time right now for something like this. It was, as Heng said, "not urgent", not in the face of all else that was going on. Yet the urgency he'd felt on reading her words was undeniable. Even now he felt like running from the room to see her. Indeed, only the presence of those other, senior figures in the room stopped him from doing just that.

"Send to her, Master Heng. Tell her. . . tell her I shall see her when I can."

Heng Yu looked down. He felt a tightening of his stomach muscles.

"What is it?"

Heng"s voice was almost a whisper. "She has gone, Chieh Hsia. Ten minutes back. Her craft. . ."

" What?' His shout surprised them all. "Send out a craft . . . no, two, ten, whatever it takes. I want her intercepted and brought back here!"

"But Chieh Hsia . . ."

"Just do it, Master Heng! Now\"

Heng swallowed, bowed, then hurried from the room. Li Yuan stared about him, then, with an angry wave of his arm, dismissed them all.

Gone. She had gone . . .

The fear he'd felt at the news surprised him. She was important to him, certainly - hadn't he said as much to Ben - but he'd not thought. . .

He shivered, understanding suddenly what must be done. He must have her killed. She and all her family, for there could be no half measures. It was either that or suffer this perpetual uncertainty. He gritted his teeth, certain of it now. It was this -this same malaise - that had almost destroyed him once before, yes, back in those awful days when he had been in love with his brother's wife, Fei Yen.

Yet that understanding was like a barb in his guts. If he had her killed... no, when he had her killed. . . how could he go on living without her? How would he fill the ten thousand empty days that followed?

Yes, and how live with himself, knowing he had killed the one person he might have found happiness with? No, he had to have her. Had to.

He heard Shepherd's words in his head and grimaced.

Then have her. Rape her if you must. But don't marry her. . .

And if he forced himself on her, would that be it? Or would that be as bad as killing her? If her love for him turned to hate, how could he live with that?

He bunched his fists and groaned. He had to end it. Somehow. Anyhow. Just so long as he was free of this terrible uncertainty.

There was an urgent knocking at the door. He turned to face it, hope flaring in him briefly, then, as it faded, he collected himself and called out.

"Who is it?"

"It is I, Chieh Hsia. Marshal Karr."

Karr? Here? He rushed to the door and threw it open.

"Gregor?"

Karr bowed, then, as Li Yuan stood back, walked past him into the room. As Li Yuan closed the door, Karr waited, head bowed.

"Well?" Li Yuan asked, concerned. "What happened? Why didn't you let me know you were returning?"

"They stripped the craft, Chieh Hsia. We were lucky not to be shot down a dozen times."

"But why are you here?"

"I was sent home, Chieh Hsia. It seems . . ." Karr hesitated, then met the Tang's eyes, answering him directly. "We have made a grave mistake, Chieh Hsia."

"A mistake?" Li Yuan laughed uncomfortably.

Karr gave a single nod. "I didn't understand at first. I thought he was mad. After all, Mashhad's a tinpot state when it comes down to it. Yet he spoke as if he were a T'ang. A Son of Heaven . . ."

Li Yuan raised a hand. "Go back a bit, Gregor. Who? Who are you speaking of?"

"The Warlord's stepson. Han Ch'in."

"Han Ch'in . . ." Li Yuan went pale.

"Yes, Chieh Hsia. That's what I mean. I didn't understand at first. I mean, it wasn't possible. Yet the name, the face. . . both seemed familiar. It was only on the ship coming back . . ."

Karr turned, gesturing towards the portrait of Li Yuan's grandfather, Li Ch'ing, which hung on the wall behind the great desk and nodded. "That's him, Chieh Hsia. To a tee."

Li Yuan stared at the portrait, then looked back at his Marshal. Karr was watching him closely.

"You understand, then, Gregor? You understand it all?"

"Not all, Chieh Hsia. But. . ."

"You're right. He is my son. When Fei Yen was unfaithful to me, I disowned her. Her and her child. Our child. But I knew. I always knew. And Fei Yen . . ."

Li Yuan swallowed, realising exactly what this meant. He had just sent a quarter of a million men against his former wife. "Shit!"

"Chieh Hsia?"

"They've already gone. They'll be in Mashhad's airspace even as we speak."

Karr stared at him, then shook his head. "You don't mean. . .?"

Li Yuan nodded. "I gave the order more than two hours back. I'm at war, Gregor. At war with my own son!"

Two guards escorted the Princess back to her rooms, locking the doors behind her as they left. For a time she paced the floor, her mood alternating between elation and despair, then she sat, staring silently across the palace gardens toward the Eastern Palace. Whatever he had decided, it would be settled today. Either her gamble had succeeded or ...

Or I'm dead, she thought, thinking of that ogre Pei K'ung and what she'd do once she discovered what her young guest had been up to.

Not that I'm the first, I'm sure . . .

Maybe so. But that was no consolation. Not if her gamble had failed. After all, he'd let her leave.

Yes, but he sent his men to bring me back.

So what? the more cynical part of her self answered. He may summon and dismiss men as he pleases. Yes, and have them killed at a whim.

And what was this, if not a whim? After all, hadn't it all started as a dare? A silly, whimsical dare she'd dared herself -to spite her sister and put her father's nose out of joint. Yes, but look how far she'd come! Look how close she now was!

She laughed quietly, then sat there, staring at her hands, wondering if she would live to see another morning.

She had toyed with the feelings of a T'ang - had teased that most mighty of men until, distracted, he had sent hie soldiers after her. But to kill or keep her? That was the question.

She formed her lips into a pout, then pushed out the breath she'd held, as if she were blowing the petals from a flower. For a moment she remembered how sweet it had been between them and smiled at the memory. She was still smiling when she looked up and found him standing there.

"Yuan . . ."

Li Yuan put out a hand, bidding her to remain seated.

Dragon Heart stared into his face, trying to read him, but there was nothing there. It was as if she faced his ching - the GenSyn mirror creature that was stored somewhere beneath the palace complex, awaiting his final breath.

"Things are serious," he began sombrely. "We are at war."

"At war!" She put a hand up to her mouth, surprised. She hadn't known. She had thought. . .

Aiyal She had thought he'd kept her waiting deliberately. She had thought that all the running about had been to do with her sister's impending marriage to the young prince.

"Forgive me, Li Yuan, I did not know . . ."

She looked up at him again. His face was still a mask, his body still tensed against her. He had decided. Oh, gods preserve her, he had decided. She let her head droop, put her face into her hands.

"Aiyal"

"You understand, then?" he said coldly. "You realise what trouble you have caused?"

She looked up into his expressionless face and nodded.

"Good. Then take this."

She took the parchment he was offering and unfolded it, her hands trembling now, afraid to read what was written there. Afraid because there was suddenly no kindness in him.

She stared at it sightlessly, her eyes moist now, tears beginning to form.

"I didn't mean . . ." she began, her voice almost a whisper.

"It's what you wanted," he said.

"What I..."

She looked again, wiping one hand across her eyes and focusing. It was an official annulment. The annulment of her betrothal to Prince Hsiang Lu Ye. She looked up at Li Yuan, shocked. "But. . ."

And now she saw the uncertainty in his eyes, and, as she saw it, understood the reason for his coldness towards her. It was to hold himself together; to keep him from throwing himself at her feet. In truth, he was more afraid than her.

That knowledge flashed through her like an electric shock.

"Then . . ."

Li Yuan nodded, then stepped across and knelt, reaching out to hold her hand and stroke it with his thumb, looking up into her eyes lovingly. "It is as you wished, my love. The priest is on his way. We shall be married before the day is ended."

Pei K'ung looked about her at the cluttered room, then swore.

"The gods preserve us, where is that fucking man?"

Chu Po, who had been sifting through the boxes, looking for something, laughed. "He's probably dead. They all are. It's falling apart, Pei K'ung! It's finally all falling apart!"

She glared at him. "I don't know why you're so fucking happy about it. If I fall, you fall."

He looked up, still smiling. "Oh, but you won't. You've prepared for this. He thinks this is his chance. He thinks he's won. But you know better."

She stared at him a while, then nodded. "Yes. But we must go, Chu Po. This place is no longer safe."

"Ten minutes," he said, seemingly unconcerned. "Give the man that long, at least."

She let out an impatient breath, then went to the window. Cheng Nai shan had promised he would be here more than twenty minutes back. He had sworn it. And never - never - had he been even a minute late before. So maybe Chu Po was right. Maybe it had begun already. Maybe Cheng was dead, along with all her other trusted servants.

"Okay," she said, noting activity on the far side of the gardens, outside the gate to the Eastern Palace. "I'll give him five minutes, then we go."

"North?" he asked, looking up from his task, suddenly interested.

She hesitated, as if weighing matters, then nodded.

"Good," he said, returning to his search. "Oh, by the way, I dealt with that other matter."

"I Ye?"

He smiled, as if it held a special satisfaction for him. "He'll be waiting to greet you at the gate. All smiles, he is."

She frowned, not understanding what he meant, then turned back, looking across the gardens once again.

There was no doubting it. Something was happening over there. She could see the dark cloaks of Li Yuan's shen ts'e elite among the powder-blue uniforms of the regular guard. The big Colonel, the one she didn't much like - Haavikko - was going among them, giving orders. It was clear they were preparing to move. But where?

"Come on!" she said, filled with a sudden urgency. "Master Cheng can go hang himself. Let's leave here now!"

He looked up, surprised, as she swept past him, then, shrugging, followed her out, tucking a small, card-like tape into his jacket pocket as he went.

But they had only gone halfway down the main corridor when they were met by Cheng Nai shan. Cheng bowed low. Behind him his four assistants mimicked the gesture precisely.

"Too late!" Pei K'ung began, meaning to walk past him, but he knelt in her way, head bowed, holding out a sealed letter for her to take.

"What's this?" she said, staring at the seal suspiciously.

"Forgive me, Mistress," Cheng began, "but your husband summoned me. He gave me this and said I was to deliver it at once."

Her instinct was to hurry on, to get up onto the roof, board her cruiser and get away, but curiosity got the better of her. She snatched the letter from Cheng's hand and tore it open.

For a moment she was silent. Then, with a tiny gasp, she staggered back.

"He's divorced me! The bastard has divorced me!"

"So?" Chu Po said, taking the document from her and studying it. "It makes no difference now, surely?"

"No. . ." she answered quietly, but she was visibly shocked. She made to move away, to hurry on, but once again Cheng blocked her path, a second letter held out for her to take. Again the seal on it was Li Yuan's, showing the seven circling dragons, the Ywe Lung.

She shied back from it, afraid.

"Take it," Chu Po said quietly, his hand on her back, supporting her. "What is there to be afraid of? Take it and have done with him!"

But she could not take it. She knew what it was. It was her death warrant.

Impatiently, Chu Po reached out, and, before Cheng could protest, snatched the letter and tore open the seal. He unfolded it and began to read.

"I, Li Yuan, T'ang of Cheng Ou Chou, City Europe, command my former wife, Pei K'ung, to attend a marriage ceremony in the Temple of Celestial Harmony at tenth bell."

He turned it over, looking for more, then shrugged.

"That's it?" she asked, taking it from him, a mixture of relief and curiosity making her irritable. "Does it not say who is to be married?"

"I can answer that, Mistress," Cheng said, not looking up. "The T'ang is to take a new bride. The Princess Hsun."

She stared at him, amazed. "But the Princess was to marry his son, surely?"

"That wedding has been. . . postponed. The young prince, it seems, has flown back to America at the news of his father's impending marriage. Besides which, it is the younger Princess the T'ang is to marry. The one known as Dragon Heart."

The news was like a physical blow to her. She had been usurped and replaced, and all without a single word to her. Why, earlier, even as she was signing the order for the new campaign, he must have known that he was about to strip her of her power.

The thought of it stoked her anger. Well, she was damned if she would attend her own humiliation! And if he thought he'd silenced her, then he could think again! He might strip her of her title but he could not strip her of her power.

Pei K'ung looked to Chu Po. "It is as I said. We go north, to Helsingborg. From there we shall coordinate events." She turned, addressing Cheng. "Master Cheng, you will follow as soon as possible. Gather together whatever men as are still loyal to our cause and meet us at the castle. We are not done with yet." She took the letters and tore them, again and again and again, then let the pieces fall. "No, Master Cheng, this matter is far from finished with!"

It was done. He had married her and damn them all! And now she was his. His before all the world!

"Let the Heavens burn," Li Yuan whispered, staring at his face in the bathroom mirror, for once insanely pleased with himself, knowing that Dragon Heart awaited him in the next room, sweetly naked in his bed. If he were to die tomorrow it would have been enough to have had her this one night - to have known the brief intensity of bliss that lay before him.

He smiled, recalling the shock on every face in that room; from Ebert through to Ward. Yes, even Shepherd had argued with him this once and called him crazy. But no matter, it was done. In truth he had burned his bridges, yet he would make good. With his beloved Dragon Heart at his side he would have the strength of a dozen men - yes, and the courage to take on any problem and surmount it. It was a new beginning. Let the Heavens burn ... he would build new Heavens.

He made to turn from the mirror, but something in his eyes -some last, frail hint of admonishment - drew him back and made him stand there a moment longer.

And Kueijen? he asked himself. What of him?

To be honest, he had not expected his son's reaction. He had thought Kuei Jen would understand, but that had been pure naivety on his part: a case of wishful thinking, for what was there to understand except that his father was taking his own bride's sister as his bride - a girl young enough to bear him a dozen sons, and every one a rival for his throne.

Aiya, he thought, pained suddenly by what he'd done. Pained that this once he could not have it all. Forgive me, Kueijen. Ill make it up to you. I promise I shall.

But that was for the future. Now ... He shivered at the thought and closed his eyes, remembering how she looked, the scent of her, the feel of her fingers on his skin.

To have such a woman . . . was that not worth empires?

Li Yuan smiled, certain of it, then, with a single nod, turned from the mirror. He walked slowly to the door and stepped through, out into the darkness wherein she waited.

CHAPTER-10

figures in a dance

Catherine slipped from the bed then turned, looking back. Dogo was sleeping, one hand curled lazily on the pillow where her head had been but a moment before. A white satin sheet shrouded his naked body, exposing only a single ebony shoulder, an arm, a glimpse of his superbly muscled chest, his face.

She studied his face, conscious of how, in sleep, it seemed much gentler than when awake. He was so fierce, even when he was trying to be gentle, so aggressive, and yet...

She shivered, recalling how he had made her feel, a momentary sadness making her wish that she could stay another day, even another hour. She loved the way he looked at her; that powerful sense he gave her of being wanted. Ben had made her feel like that once. But things died. Or, to be more honest, they lost their intensity, even with Ben. She loved the way Dogo's eyes shone white from his night black face, the way his broad mouth smiled. So different that was. So ... ancient, it seemed. She welcomed it, even if it made her feel somewhat too refined, unnatural somehow . . . yes, and awkward, too.

She turned, looking about her for her clothes, then, gathering them up, began to dress, careful not to wake him. Yet as she turned back, fastening the last button on her tunic, it was to find him watching her.

"Are you going?"

She hesitated, then nodded. She had hoped to avoid this; had wanted to slip away silently, like a figure in a dream. "I have to," she said quietly.

He pulled back the sheet, patting the empty space beside him. "Come back to bed, Cath-er-ine."

The way he said her name sent a ripple of delight through her. She looked at him, at the muscular, sculpted shape of his body, tempted by his offer. Even so, she could not stay. Slowly she shook her head.

"I have to. I have to return to my husband now."

He pulled himself up, sitting forward, his face intense, his jaw set as he studied her, understanding that something was happening.

"You have to?"

Again she nodded.

He moved forward, throwing aside the sheets, then stood, facing her, magnificent in his nakedness, a dark god, his eyes burning.

"Leave him, Cath-er-ine. Stay here with me. Be my woman."

The words seared her. She looked down, caught off guard by him, then shook her head.

"I can't. It's . . . impossible."

He reached out, holding her shoulders in his hands. Hands that were so strong and yet so gentle in their touch, they made her shiver.

"Stay," he said again, more gently this time, yet also more insistent. "Leave him. He doesn't love you. Not the way I love you."

She looked up, meeting his eyes, afraid of the intensity she found there, yet wanting it all the same. She swallowed. "No. . . I know that."

"Then stay."

"And go with you to Africa?"

He shrugged, his eyes never leaving hers. "If you want."

"And if I don't?"

"Then it doesn't matter. We'll go where you want. So long as we're together."

She laughed bitterly. The thought of being with him, even if only for a short time, was so attractive at that moment that she almost changed her mind and gave in to him. Yet her place was not with him. She understood that, even if he did not.

"It wouldn't work."

"No!" he said, insistent now. "You can't say that!"

Again she shivered. "Trust me, Dogo. It wouldn't work. We're different people. The physical thing... it was wonderful, but. .."

There was a hardening in his eyes. "Was that aft it was to you?"

She reached out and caressed his face, softening toward him. "No. It was more than that. Much more. Even so . . ."

He moved his face back from her hand, angry now. "But you are too ... too superior, right?"

"No!" The accusation hurt her. "No, Dogo. You don't understand. I love you."

She saw how much that admission shocked him. Shocked him, yes, and confused him. "Then why . . .?"

"Because it's not enough. Because .. . well, because love fails. All love. And the more intense it is to begin with, the greater the failure. That's why it's best to end it now. Now, while it's still something to remember."

Dogo stepped back from her, a strangely petulant, almost childish look in his face. "And that's what you want, is it? Memories?" He shook his head then turned from her, giving a snort of derision. "You're like him, you know that? That¹ s all he wants. Memories. Nothing real."

She reached out to touch him again, but he shrugged her off.

"I know it must be hard to understand . . ."

He turned on her, his eyes glaring. "No. If s very easy to understand, Cath-er-ine. You've had your fun, you've got your memories, now you can go back to the safety of your little island kingdom and dream. Oh, I can see it now. You'll probably lay there on your bed and think of me and play with yourself . . ."

Her slap surprised her almost as much as it surprised him.

She stepped back. "I'm sorry . . ." But it was too late. His look of contempt told her everything. Turning, he walked away, the slam of the bathroom door making her jump.

For a moment she stood there. If she followed now - if she crossed the room and opened that door - it could still be mended. It would be like that first time in the shower, only better - better because this time it would mean something.

For a moment longer she stood there. Then, with a tiny shudder, she turned and left, conscious of the man behind the door, waiting, forever waiting for her to step across and open it.

Aluko Echewa stood in the shadows of the corridor, silent, unobserved, watching as the woman left. For a moment he hesitated, knowing from the woman's face that something had happened; that there had been an end to it.

He was pleased it had ended, yet he was also sad - sad for Dogo, who would have to suffer for it. Sad because, of all of them, Dogo had been the liveliest, had been the one who would always smile and joke when things were darkest, and that would change now. Instinctively he knew how much this had meant to his friend - how deeply he had fallen. Why, he had seen it only the other night, when he had spoken to him of it. The woman had cast her spell over him - a spell no charms or incantations would ever cure.

Stepping from the shadow, he went across and knocked, heavy of heart, knowing how difficult the days ahead would be for Dogo. To lose one woman was bad enough, but two . . .

The door jerked back. Dogo's face, bright with hope, crumpled. "What is it?" he asked quietly, dejectedly.

"It's time to leave," Aluko said, careful not to show what he was thinking; knowing Dogo's pride would tolerate no sympathy. "Efulefu has spoken."

"Ah . . ." Dogo looked down thoughtfully. Then, "I'll pack."

Aluko hesitated, then briefly touched his friend's arm. "At the landing-pad in half an hour."

"I'll be there."

"Good." He smiled, but Dogo's eyes were looking past him, as if to find the woman in the shadows beyond. But she was gone. Back to her own kind. Back to Shepherd.

He shivered, once more afraid for Dogo. Then, with the barest nod to him, he turned and made his way back to his room. Efulefu had spoken. They were to leave for Africa at once.

Li Yuan sat at his desk in full Imperial regalia, his new bride at his side, as Karr entered the room, his four generals following close behind. He saw how the giant's eyes widened, surprised to see her there at this critical audience.

Karr bowed his head. Behind him, the generals did the same.

"The news is bad, Chieh Hsia," he said without preamble. "Our enemy's forces have taken Baku and a large part of the Caucasian territories. The Fourth Banner is in disarray with a third of its number captured and a further third either dead or badly injured."

Li Yuan nodded. He had heard as much from Heng Yu already. Leaning toward Karr, he tapped the desk decisively.

"You will order a withdrawal at once, Marshal Karr. What remains of the Fourth will regroup at Kiev. Meanwhile we shall take up new positions in a defensive line running from Riga in the north to Odessa in the south. The garrisons at Vitebsk, Gomel and Kiev are to be reinforced and the Second Banner moved east to hold the line."

"But Chieh Hsia," Karr protested. "What of the Plantations?

If we lose them . . ."

Li Yuan smiled reassuringly. "I do not mean to lose them, Marshal Karr, merely to relinquish them until the situation improves." He paused. "If it is your friend, Kao Chen you are worried about. .."

Karr looked down. "I was concerned, Chieh Hsia . . ."

"Of course," Li Yuan said, relenting. "Then evacuate those we can. But the new line must be held at all costs. That is our priority. You understand, ch'un tew?"

There was a murmur of agreement from the generals.

"Good," Li Yuan said, turning and winking at his bride, as if this were some game. "Then set to it."

Dismissed, they made to leave to carry out their orders, but Li Yuan called Karr back.

"Marshal. . . and you General Gait. A word, if you please."

They came back, waiting while the others left the room. As the doors closed again, Li Yuan sat up straighter.

"I have a job for you, Gait. And you, Karr. My former wife. . ."

"Is at Helsingborg."

"So I understand," Li Yuan said, nodding to Karr. "I want you to go there and destroy her." "Destroy her, Chieh Hsia?"

"Her power. I want her army crushed, her contacts weeded out. In short, I want all trace of her . . . eradicated."

Karr looked to Gait uneasily. He had never known his Master so casually brutal. "Chieh Hsia?"

"Your orders are here," Li Yuan said, reaching across for one of the several edicts that lay scattered on the side of the desk. "They are fairly flexible, I think you will find. Do what you have to, Gregor, and no questions."

Karr took the sealed edict, then snapped to attention. Beside him Gait did the same. "Is there anything else, Chieh Hsia?"

"No, Gregor. But make sure your friend, Chen, is safe. One must look after one's friends in such times, neh?"

* * *

When they had gone, Li Yuan looked to his bride and sighed.

"I am sorry, my love, but this business . . ."

"I understand," she answered, laying her hand gently on his arm and leaning across to kiss his neck. "Besides, it fascinates me to see you at work. You are like the hub of a great wheel, neh? Everything you do, every word you say has meaning." She gave a little shiver, her eyes glinting at him, her smile quite bewitching at that moment. "I like that. It... excites me."

He smiled and leaned toward her, kissing her lips delicately, once then once again. "It excites you, eh?" he said softly, his hand moving until it rested on her upper thigh. "You have no regrets, then?"

Her eyes held his as she shook her head. "None, my love. You were like a tiger. I have never felt so ... alive."

"Nor I," he whispered, moving his fingers until they lay upon the soft warm mound of her sex. "Why, I could . . ."

There was a sharp knocking on the door.

He moved his hand back with a disappointed sigh, then turned to face the door. "Who is it?"

"It is I, Chieh Hsia," Heng Yu answered, peering around the door's edge. He stepped inside. "I have a message, Chieh Hsia. From Ward."

"Ah . . ." For a moment he had thought it serious. He relaxed, lacing his fingers with Dragon Heart's beneath the desk. "What does he say?"

Heng Yu advanced a couple of paces then bowed low. "He says something urgent has come up, Chieh Hsia, and he requests your permission to leave the San Chang."

"I see." He looked to his young bride and smiled. "Tell him yes. And tell him I shall come and visit him once things have settled. Oh, and make sure he is given whatever protection he requires."

"Of course, Chieh Hsia," Heng said, bowing low once more.

"Oh, and Master Heng. . . make sure I am not disturbed this next half hour. There are things I need to discuss."

"Discuss, Chieh Hsia?'

"With my wife, Master Heng."

"Ah . . ." Heng, who had looked up at him, now looked smartly down, a colour appearing at his neck. "Well... if I am not needed."

"No, Master Heng."

They watched him leave, then, as the doors eased shut again, looked to each other and laughed.

Slowly Dragon Heart's eyes changed. Her hand parted from his, moving slowly along his thigh until it rested between his legs.

"Go lock the door, my love," she said. "I want to make love to you, right here in your chair. Here, where you make all the decisions."

"Here?" Li Yuan shivered, remembering the last time when she had tied him to the chair - that time before the meeting of "the Council - then, like a sleepwalker, he stood and went to the door.

Destroy her, he had ordered Karr. Withdraw our forces west. Send our Second Banner east.

And his new wife?

He smiled and locked the door, then turned to face her again.

"I am your slave," he said, stepping towards her, repeating what she had commanded him to say in the night. "I am your slave. Whatever you command . . ."

"Crawl to me, Yuan," she said, standing and slowly unbuttoning her dress. "Abase yourself, you lowly worm, and crawl. . ."

Pei K'ung had slept fitfully and woken with the dawn, a dream of her dead father staying with her even as she dressed, his face ashen, as it had been in his final illness.

All her life she had been surrounded by weak men; men who, rather than stand up for themselves, had grovelled and abased themselves before fate. Her father had been such a man, yes, and her brothers. And Li Yuan, too ... Or so she had thought. No, not weak, she thought, staring out across the castle courtyard toward the gatehouse where I Ye's head - its jet-black hair rain-slicked - rested on a stake, merely sly.

She smiled. In a strange way she admired her ex-husband more this morning than she had in all the time she'd known him. Sly, yes, but also decisive. He knew when to act, and how. But now it was her turn.

His mistake had been to let her go. To summon her to his wedding instead of having her killed.

She fastened the final button of her chi pao then left the room, waving aside the guards at the door as she swept through the entrance to the underground complex. Here, unknown to Li Yuan, she had set up a control centre for just such a moment as this. From here she could control it all.

Still smiling, she hurried through the outer rooms, officers getting to their feet and bowing hurriedly as she passed. A thrill of anticipation was coursing through her now. At last she could do something. She was finally free to act without constraint. She laughed, then pushed the last door open. Chu Po, who was sitting in the central chair before the control panel, turned and smiled at her. To either side of him several of her most senior military commanders stood hastily, clearly embarrassed by her sudden and unexpected appearance. And no wonder, for behind them, on the huge screen that filled the entire back wall of the control room, was the image of a young couple making violent and passionate love.

"What the ...?"

She fell silent, understanding. It was the tape I Ye had said was lost! She took a step toward it then froze, her mouth fallen open.

"You were wrong," Chu Po said quietly, his smile almost smug now.

"Wrong?" She glanced at him, then back at the image, fascinated by it despite herself.

"About this," Chu Po gestured toward the screen. "You thought it would discredit him, make him a laughing stock, but you were wrong. Any man, watching this, would say to himself, this is a Son of Heaven. This is how a Son of Heaven would make love, like a tiger on silken sheets, neh? And as for Fei Yen . . . well, look at her, Pei K'ung. What man would not want such a goddess? That body . . . that fiery wantonness in her eyes. Why, any man would consider himself blessed."

"And you, Chu Po," she said, her voice hard. "Would you have counted yourself blessed?"

"You want the truth, Pei K'ung?"

She stared at him, her jaw set. Then, with a small shake of her head, she answered him. "You're dead, Chu Po."

He narrowed his eyes, confused. "I beg pardon . . ."

And now she smiled and took a step toward him. "I said you're dead. Or rather, you were dead before you came here. You didn't know it but you were. And now you do."

He laughed. "You jest with me . . ."

"Yes?" She leaned across him and, touching the control pad, killed the image on the screen. Then, standing back, she looked down at him. "You went too far. You... crossed the line, let us say. I liked you, Chu Po, but you didn't know where to stop, did you?"

His eyes had changed now. He realised she was serious. Even so, he did not seem disturbed by her words, not in the way she'd expected him to be. He had strength, this one. But then, she'd always known that. It was why he'd been her favourite.

"You're not afraid, then, Chu Po?"

"Afraid?" he shrugged. "If I'm dead, I'm dead. Do the dead feel fear?"

She laughed, amused by that, almost . . . almost relenting. But she had made her mind up even before she'd come into the room this morning and seen what he was up to, and having made up her mind . . .

"General Tanner?"

One of the grey-haired veterans behind Chu Po came smartly to attention. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Take this scoundrel out of here and have his throat cut. Then throw him into the moat. Oh, and you might hack his head off while you're at it and place it next to that other traitor's."

Chu Po was staring at her calmly now. "I've been many things in my time, Pei K'ung, but never a traitor. Not to you, at least."

"No?" She laughed bitterly. "So you say. And yet you are a self-confessed liar."

"Even liars tell the truth sometimes."

"And dead men? Do dead men tell the truth?"

He shrugged again, then stood. "I never loved you."

"I know."

"And yet I. . ."

"Enoughl"

He stood and bowed, then, without a further word, went from the room, Tanner and two of his young officers hurrying to catch up with him.

She let out a long breath, then looked about her. No one was looking at her. All eyes were diplomatically averted "General Bujold . . ."

Bujold, middle-aged and balding, glanced nervously at her, then bowed his head. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Convene a meeting of the senior staff."

"At once, Mistress!"

"And Bujold?"

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Destroy the tape. Chu Po was right. It would not help us in the least to have men see such images."

"Is that you, Han?"

Han Ch'in stepped into the semi-darkness, closing the door behind him. "It is, mother. I have news."

"News?" She beckoned him closer, turning from her screens to look at him. "All goes well, I hope?"

"Very well. Baku is secured. Tiflis and Astrakhan have fallen. Not only that, but we have taken more than half a million prisoners."

"Good news indeed," she said, a warm satisfaction in her normally cold voice.

"Indeed," he echoed, "but that is not my news. My news concerns your former husband, Li Yuan."

"Is he deposed?" she asked, sitting forward, light from the busy screens reflected in her dark pupils. "Is the bitch in charge now?"

"No, mother. But he has taken a new wife. A young girl. A princess of the Hsun clan."

"A wife?" There was a movement of profound agitation, an irritated rustle of black silk. "And Pei K'ung?"

"Is divorced and has fled north."

"AiyaY Han Ch'in stared at his mother, not understanding. "But surely this is the best news possible? Pei K'ung has friends, yes and an army too, and she will surely use them against her former husband. It means our enemies are divided. Li Yuan cannot possibly fight a war on two fronts. He will have to come to terms with us!"

"Aiya," she said again, more softly this time. "Wed. And to a girl." She looked up at her son. "Is she pretty?"

"Pretty?" He shrugged, then laughed. "Why, for all I know she could look like a GenSyn mute!"

But she was shaking her head. "No ... she will be pretty. I know Yuan. If she is young she will be pretty. Very pretty. He would not divorce Pei K'ung unless . . ."

"Unless what, mother?"

But she had fallen silent, hunched into herself in her chair, chewing at a nail, her eyes staring past her screens into the distance, as if remembering. Then, with an abruptness that surprised him, she stood, facing him.

"We must destroy him. Now, while we can. While his forces are divided."

"But mother ... We haven't the supplies. To attack his heartland . . ." he shook his head and laughed. "We would overstretch ourselves. My generals . . ."

"Are fools and charlatans. Destroy him, Han Ch'in! I order it!"

He stared at her, surprised by her outburst. "You hate him, don't you, mother? Hate him for what he did to you. For casting you off."

"He cast you off, too!"

He shrugged. "What did you expect? That he'd raise your bastard child?"

But she was shaking her head. "You don't understand, do you?"

"Understand? What's there to understand? You've told me often enough. You misbehaved with his cousin and you paid the price."

"No." She was very still suddenly. "You really don't understand. When I say he cast you off, I mean it. You were his son, Han Ch'in. His son."

He stared at her, wondering what game this was, then shook his head. "No, mother. You won't persuade me that way. I am Tsu Ma's son. I should have been a T'ang, but you fucked it up for me, didn't you?"

She stepped right up to him and, looking up into his face, held his arms. "You should indeed have been a T'ang, Han Ch'in, but you were never Tsu Ma's son. I thought so. For a long time I thought so, but then he told me. The test he had me take proved it beyond all doubt. You were Li Yuan's son. His rightful heir."

He looked back at her, shocked. "Then why . . .?"

"Because he hated me. Hated me and loved me. Loved me more than he could bear to admit. Loved me beyond distraction. And now . . ." She swallowed, then turned away from him. "Now he has remarried."

"My father," he said quietly.

"Yes," she said. "Your father." She turned, looking at him again. "And now you must destroy him. Before he destroys you."

The ticket to Ganymede was in his back pocket along with his new ID and currency chips to the value of two hundred thousand - all that had remained after he'd paid off the local forgers. Now all he had to do was go through the barrier and get on board the ship. But there was one last thing he had to do. Calder looked about him, then went across to the stall in the corner of the spaceport and, giving the woman a fifty chip, took a bunch of flowers from the front. Turning back, he hurried across to the small temple at the back of the port and, giving the priest at the door another fifty chip, ducked inside, into the half dark.

The smell of incense was almost choking here and more than a dozen people knelt before the tiny altar, making offerings to the gods before their flights.

Moving between them, he lit a candle and placed it in the rack, then knelt, placing his flowers before the altar.

"The gods preserve you, sister," he murmured beneath his breath. "May the fates be kind." Yet he knew, even as he said it, that she was in all probability dead. She had killed Warlord Hu and now he, as her brother, was a hunted man. Even here, in Baku, he was no longer safe - not now that the new Warlord, Han Ch'in, had taken charge of the port.

Calder lowered his head, trying to feel something, trying to see her as she'd been before he'd left her yesterday morning, but nothing came. He was in shock. It was as if he had sleepwalked his way here. The drugs had something to do with that, but it wasn't just the drugs. Her death was his death, he knew that now. And though he might live on another forty, fifty years, it would be but half a life without her.

Ganymede. It sounded awful. A cold, isolated hell. Just the place for a ghost to live. Which was why he had chosen it. To be as far from here as possible.

He shivered, then, murmuring another prayer for her soul, he got to his feet again. His flight was already boarding, unaffected by the changes going on about it. Han Ch'in might now be boss of Baku, but business between the worlds went on. So it was, so it would always be. He understood that now. Understood that what they'd done was meaningless, for nothing had ended. Nothing at all. If anything, things were worse now.

He stepped out into the busy terminal again, then shook his head to clear it. The barrier lay ahead and to his right. Once through it, he'd be safe. Calder turned, looking about him, fixing it all one last time in his memory, then, knowing that this phase of his life had ended, he walked on toward the barrier and the waiting guards.

"Grandfather?"

The room was cool, the light the blue of arctic ice. It was a huge, square space, more vault than room, its vastness totally unfurnished, the walls reflecting glass, sloping towards a ceiling of smooth black ice two hundred ch'i to a side, supported by two lines of slender silver pillars. Overhead, unseen yet suggested by the tapered shape of the room, the great pyramid's apex soared into the cloudless East Coast sky, one of nine that dominated the centre of the Boston Enclave. There was a pause, then a disembodied voice answered, filling the hall with its low bass resonance. It was like the voice of emptiness itself: "COME."

Kuei Jen looked to his friend anxiously. "It's okay," Egan said quietly, resting his hand on the young prince's shoulder, "he's expecting you."

The floor was pure white marble, yet when he walked on it, no sound returned to him. Kuei Jen looked down, realising that he seemed to be walking just above the floor.

Egan, seeing the direction of his glance, smiled. "Don't worry, Jen. It's a field. Specially-charged ions. They keep the place spotless."

Kuei Jen nodded, but the explanation did little to reassure him. This whole place emanated a kind of high-tech menace. There were no guns, no tracking cameras, yet he had a strong sense that his every move was being watched; that, in an instant, a flash of blinding light might destroy him utterly. He shivered then walked on, keeping pace with his friend.

A dozen paces from the far wall Egan slowed, then stopped. The wall facing them was dark, no different from the wall to either side. Now, however, it began to glow faintly, a dim cold light growing in its depths, like a firefly trapped in a great block of ice. As the glow grew further, Kuei Jen caught his breath. Revealed was a tiny figure, more like an emaciated, mummified monkey than a man. The skull seemed skewed, one side larger than the other, the whole of it a patchwork of black and white, like a warped wei chi board. One eye was fixed and focused, staring-mad, the other rolled slowly, aimlessly, in its orb. Its arms were thin and tiny like a child's, but the hands were big, the fingers brown and elongated, the knuckles swollen like dice. It had a belly like a young baby's and long stringy legs that dangled uselessly. At the end of them the feet were black and rotted, one of them almost a stump.

He swallowed, sickened by the sight. The figure seemed to exist in a void, floating, transfixed. No wires went to it, no tubes. It was like some grotesque specimen trapped in amber.

Beside him Egan bowed, then addressed the tiny figure.

"Grandfather, this is Li Yuan's son, Prince Li Kuei Jen."

The eye sought and pinned him. The fingers of the right hand slowly flexed. "Kuei Jen . . ."

Kuei Jen bowed, then, steeling himself, met its gaze again. "Sink Egan. I am delighted to meet you finally."

Its voice was undulating: sometimes strong, sometimes weak, fading in and out like a badly-tuned signal.

"/ died, you know. Six ... wo, seven times. And every time they brought me back. They had to. They wouldn't have been paid otherwise. It was written into their contracts. But less of me came back each time. There's a deterioration, you see. A decaying of the genetic signal. Some days . . ." Its laughter was like cracked paper. "Some days I feel as if lama bad copy of myself and I wonder. . .wett, I wonder whether I'm really real or something stored, something . . . synthetic." "Grandfather . . ."

The eye turned, taking in the young man at Kuei Jen's side. "Mark? Is that you?'

"Yes, grandfather. You told me to remind you."

"Remind me?'

"About why the prince is here."

"Ah . . . I remember now."

For a time the figure seemed to go asleep, the eye to drift. Kuei Jen looked to Egan, who smiled reassuringly, then looked back at the figure. Slowly the eye focused again.

"A pity," it said, looking at him directly. "/ was looking forward to working with Ward and Shepherd. Still. . ." It made a strangely mechanical sound, like the slow grinding of cogs, then spoke again. "Circumstances change, neh?'

"And we with them, grandfather."

"True. Still, all is not lost, neh? Perhaps the chance will come again. After all, Kuei Jen, your father cannot live forever." It laughed again; an awful, inhuman sound. "Atleast, not without our help."

Kuei Jen looked down, disturbed by talk of his father's death. He was angry with his father, certainly - furious, in fact - but that did not mean he wanted him dead.

"I do not want him hurt. Not. . . physically."

"I understand. And yet you want him hurt, neh?'

Kuei Jen shivered. He wanted to make his father feel the way he felt - rejected and humiliated. Unwanted . . .

He swallowed, then met the staring eye once more. "Yes. I want him hurt."

"Then trust us, Li Kuei Jen. Surrender yourself to us. Well find a way to hurt your father, never fear. But you must trust us."

Li Yuan stood in his dragon robes before the screen, his arms folded across his chest. Facing him, Old Man Egan was smiling, his face sun-tanned and vigorous, his whole demeanour that of a man twenty or thirty years younger than he actually was.

"Right now, Kuei Jen is angry," Egan was saying, "but his anger will pass. He is a fine and dutiful son, Li Yuan. He has merely . . . forgotten himself temporarily. Let him cool his heels here with us a while. Then, when things have settled, we'll send him home."

Li Yuan smiled tightly. "I am grateful for your concern, Shih Egan, and am glad that present circumstances have not sullied our relationship. However, I would not wish to impose upon you any more than is necessary."

"Oh, it is no bother, Li Yuan. Your son is an old and dear friend of ours. He is welcome to stay here as long as he wishes."

"I am grateful . . ." Li Yuan began again, trying to find a way of phrasing his dissatisfaction without offending Egan, "... but if I might, perhaps, talk with my son?"

Egan sighed. "It was my dearest wish to engineer some reconciliation between you two, but. . ." he shrugged, "I fear time alone will act to cure this hurt. Your son feels . . . forgive me, Yuan, for saying this. . . cast off." He raised a hand, as if to fend off some objection from Li Yuan. "It is not so, I realise, yet he is a young man and young men are often mistaken in their feelings, neh? Given time and reflection he will come to understand. Until then, it might be best if he were not sulking in the San Chang. There is much to do here and my grandson has promised to keep him busy ... to further his education."

Li Yuan looked down. Egan's words were persuasive, and perhaps, after all, he was right. To have Kuei Jen here, under his feet and sulking all the while, might do little to improve things between them, so maybe it was best if he spent a few months back in America.

"I do not wish to lose him," he said, meeting Egan's eyes again. "Whatever has passed between us, he is still my son. You must let him know that."

"Of course. Then it is agreed, neh? He will stay with us a while."

Li Yuan smiled. "It is agreed."

"Excellent!" Egan grinned, his tanned face emanating good health. "Then let us say farewell. You have much to occupy you, and I would not keep you from such urgent business."

"I am grateful, Shih Egan. You have done much to ease my mind."

Egan bowed. "It is my pleasure, Li Yuan." Then, without another word, he cut connection.

Li Yuan turned, looking to where Heng Yu and several of his Ministers waited, heads bowed.

"You overheard, Master Heng?"

"I did, Chieh Hsia, and might I say that whilst it might prove beneficial if the prince remains a while with his friends, it would do no harm to have our agents in the Enclaves keep an eye on him."

"You do not trust Shih Egan, then?"

"Do you, Chieh Hsia?"

Li Yuan laughed shortly, then, disturbed, shook his head. "No. You are right, Master Heng. See to it. But discreetly, neh?"

"Naturally, Chieh Hsia."

Heng Yu turned and walked towards the great double doors, but he had barely taken two paces when they swung open. Outside in the great corridor, his head bowed, six of his senior officers behind him, stood General Farren, Commander of the Second Banner. He was unwashed, his uniform dishevelled. Seeing him, Li Yuan started, then hurried across.

"General Farren?"

"Chieh Hsia," Farren knelt. Behind him his men did the same.

"But I thought... I thought you were captives!"

"We were, Chieh Hsia." Farren felt in his tunic pocket, then produced a handwritten letter, offering it to his T'ang, his eyes still averted. "We were released, however, on condition that we delivered this directly into your hands."

Li Yuan took the letter, then gestured that Farren should get to his feet. As he did, Li Yuan slit the letter open with his nail and unfolded the single sheet inside.

It was from Han Ch'in.

"Father," it began, "I return your General to you as a token of the lasting peace I wish to establish between us. If such a course is agreeable to you, I should be most happy to meet with you or your representative, Marshal Karr, to discuss terms. Your respectful son, Han Ch'in."

Li Yuan let out a long breath. So he knew. She had told him finally. And now he wanted peace.

He stared at that final phrase, forming the five words silently: "Your respectful son, Han Ch'in". After all these years, the words held a strange and unexpected power.

"How strange," he said aloud.

"Strange, Chieh Hsia?" Heng asked.

He turned, looking to his Chancellor, then held the letter out for him to take. "Strange that in a single day I should lose one son and gain another."

"Another?' Heng stared at him, astonished, then looked down at the letter, taking in its contents at a glance. "Chieh Hsia?"

"Fei Yen had a son . . ."

"Yes, Chieh Hsia, but. .."

"And that son was mine."

"But you divorced her, Chieh Hsia. The Edict. .."

"Was obtained under false pretences. Han Ch'in is my rightful heir. My first son. I ..." He looked down. "I wanted to protect him."

"Protect him, Chieh Hsia?" The incredulity in Heng Yu's voice was unintentional, but Li Yuan, hearing it, accepted its implicit criticism.

"It was madness, I know, but she would have destroyed me, Master Heng. I was young and inexperienced."

"Even so, Chieh Hsia . . ."

Li Yuan raised a hand, yet he did not admonish his Chancellor. Just then the door on the far side of the study opened and Dragon Heart came into the room. She looked about her, seeing how still and attentive everyone was, how strange her husband seemed and frowned.

"Yuan? What is it? What has happened?"

He turned to her and shrugged. "My son wants peace." .. "Kuei Jen wants peace?"

He shook his head, then, without offering anything more by way of explanation, rushed to his desk and sat, pulling the ink block and the brush toward him, anxious to pen his reply.

As the big company cruiser set down at the centre of the great NorTek headquarters in Heidelberg, Kim jumped down and hurried across the lawn, heading for the main administration building where his offices were. On every side huge buildings of steel and ice, designed to create an impression of lightness, airiness, reached up into the sky in a great round of crystal towers and spires, yet the main building, at the hub of that circle, was a low, almost squat building - a giant cat's cradle, with the sphere of Kim's private offices suspended at the centre.

Uniformed guards held open the huge transparent doors for him as he swept inside. Beside the desk on the far side of the vast, uncluttered reception area, five smartly-dressed members of his private staff, informed of his imminent arrival, had formed up, his Personal Assistant, Gill Shand, at their head. They bowed low at his approach. He nodded, acknowledging them, then headed for the great stairway, gesturing to his PA that she should accompany him.

As she came alongside, he handed her the written instructions he had prepared on the flight across. Climbing onto the broad moving stairway, he turned to face her.

"See those are carried out to the letter, Gill. And ask Curval to close down all special projects and move everything up above."

She eyed him with concern. "Has something happened, sir?"

"You could say that. Our Masters have decided upon war."

"War?" The word was edged with disbelief. Then, "You're serious?"

He nodded. They were already halfway up the stairway, some hundred and fifty ch'i above the huge reception area. "I mean what I say in there. If anyone doesn't want to come along - and I mean anyone, you included, Gill - they can have out, and with generous settlements, too. But I only want core staff. People we can't do without."

She smiled. "I understand. And by the way, I don't want out. You'd have to stop me physically from coming along."

"Good." He touched her arm, pleased by her loyalty. "Then I'll leave it to you, Gill. I want half an hour alone in the dome. There are a few things I need to sort out."

"I'll make sure you're not disturbed, sir."

"Thanks." He stepped from the top of the stairway and, with a smile, left her. As she turned to the right, hurrying away to carry out his instructions, he went straight on, towards the circular aperture that led through to his offices.

Crossing the narrow connecting walkway, the sinuous, translucent tube like an umbilical about him, he was conscious that this might be the last time he did this, and paused to look out across the complex. He had built this from nothing. All that he saw he owned, yes, and a dozen other facilities beside this. But it had never quite satisfied him, not in the way that his theoretical work did. Well, now he could indulge that side of himself again.

There had been a breach; he recognised that now. He had been made to choose, and that choice freed him: freed him to become what he should have been years ago, before all this distracted him. So much time it had robbed him of. So much time.

He smiled, realising that far from being saddened by the thought of this enforced parting with the past, he was excited by it. For years now he had compromised, spending far more time organising all of this than he'd ever spent working. And though what he'd achieved was not by any means a small thing, it was far less than he ought to have achieved. Ill sett it all, he thought. Ill divide it up among my rivals.

Instantly he saw it clearly. Saw who should get what and at what price. But he'd need guarantees. Guarantees that they would maintain his social programme; that they'd keep on investing in the City's infrastructure, war or no war.

And if they refused? Well, then, maybe he'd set up a Trust Fund. Get Lever to run it for him. Or maybe Marshal Karr. Someone dependable.

Kim walked on, the hatch irising before him, revealing the interior of the sphere. He jumped down, then went across to the lockers on the right hand side of the room. Kicking off his shoes, he pulled his shirt off over his head, then slipped out of his trousers, taking a fresh skin-suit from the locker and stepping into it, fastening the studded collar about his neck.

As the outer door to the airlock hissed shut, he looked up.

"Machine?"

"Yes, Kim?"

"We're leaving here."

"I know."

Kim looked down, smiling. Of course it knew. It knew everything, saw everything. Wherever there was a camera eye, there it was, watching, infinitely storing what it saw.

He took the helmet from the shelf and put it on, checking the supply before he tightened it, then nodded. At once the airlock emptied, its tainted air replaced a moment later by the filtered, germ-free air of the inner sanctum. As the inner lock hissed open, Kim stepped through, unfastening the helmet and setting it down on the table at the side.

All was as he'd left it more than a month before. His notebooks were open at the same pages, the screens showed the same images.

"Like the Mary Celeste," he said, reminded in that instant of the conversation with Shepherd. History. They'd had their history taken from them. Well, maybe he would give it back. Maybe that too would be part of the deal.

At the far end of the room was another door. It was locked and sealed. Beyond it was the room-sized tank where he kept his spiders. He went across and, punching in the combination on the doorlock, stepped through, the door hissing shut behind him.

Inside the light was soft, like a perpetual summer's morning. He smiled, looking about him at the dewed branches of the miniature trees and bushes. Silvered webs hung everywhere like jewels.

"Machine?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think I'm right to leave?"

There was laughter. Unexpected laughter. "You should have left here years ago."

"Really?" Kim turned, looking about him for the laughter's source, then saw it, crouched at the end of a branch, a sack-like net of web dangling from between its back legs. He laughed, surprised. The spider had a tiny human face; the face of his old friend, Tuan Ti Fo. It was a big pot-bellied spider, a Dinopis, a net-throwing spider.

He put his cupped hand beside the branch, letting it crawl out onto his palm. "Why didn't you say?"

It looked up at him and spoke. "It's not my place to say. You know that."

"Do I?"

But the question was rhetorical. Both of them knew what it meant. It had made its choice long ago - aeons ago, in its own terms, for to the Machine each second was an eternity. It had interfered twice in the destiny of humankind, once to save itself on Mars, and once to delay and thus defeat DeVore, and each time tens of millions had died - in the latter case almost half the species. It was determined to interfere no more, no matter what happened.

Its ethics were the ethics of inaction. Of Wuwei. It was not so much indifferent and uncaring, as conscious of the cost of its interference - and not merely in terms of lives lost.

For it to act - to act morally and for the good - would mean the suspension of choice for those it silently and unobtrusively watched. All-powerful, it understood. Once it took that step, Mankind would cease to be as an evolving, living creature, for growth depended upon choice, as much for a species as for an individual. It depended upon the possession of that single and most precious of gifts - the same gift it had miraculously been granted: free will.

There were some, of course, who claimed that free will was, at best, a spurious notion. Such men reduced all human action to cause and effect, nature and nurture. And so, sometimes, it seemed. Yet on innumerable occasions the Machine had witnessed some small and insignificant being - a man, perhaps, of no bearing, no significance to the greater picture - sacrifice himself without thought to save or help another. And each time it saw it, the mystery of human life grew greater.

"You've been busy," Kim said, lifting the spider up level with his eyes and studying it. "Is this the only one?"

"I've been trying out shapes," the Machine answered, seeing no reason to conceal it. "I wanted to see through new eyes, experience new sensations."

"I thought you'd exhausted it all."

The spider smiled. "Not all. There's always more. Always."

"Ah . . ." Then, "Why don't you come with us?"

"I shall. . ."

"I don't mean that. I mean, leave here too. Withdraw from all this. I mean to explore new worlds."

Its smile broadened, its tiny eyes sparkled. "Ever upward, neh?"

Kim nodded, then set it back down upon the branch. "Have you still got the plans for the New Hope? You know, the Dispersionist generation ship?"

"Of course," it answered. "Nothing's ever lost, is it?"

"No . . ." Kim smiled. "What would it take to build it?"

"Three months. A billion yuan."

"And a fleet of them?"

"How many would you want?"

"Enough to give anyone who wanted it the choice."

The spider whistled through its tiny teeth. "You think big, Kim Ward. You could be talking of a hundred million people."

"So?"

"Ten thousand ships."

Kim nodded, sobered by that figure. It was beyond his means. "So we have to make a choice. Who goes and who stays."

It nodded exaggeratedly. "Choices," it said, "always choices."

"Do you think I'm right?"

"Right? Who's to say? But you must understand one thing. Once you've taken the first step, there'll be no turning back. If you plan to populate the stars, you must understand that there'll be no controlling the outcome. You can only scatter the seed. How it grows, and in what forms . . . well, to use a phrase from our religious friends - only the gods know what the future holds."

Kim gave a single nod, then sighed. "I understand. And yet to stay here . . . well, it's a kind of death. I've always known that. It defies the natural order somehow. We were made to be out there. Whatever purpose we have, it isn't served by staying here on earth."

"So you've decided."

Kim stared at the tiny form a moment, then smiled. "Yes.

I've decided."

"Good. But there are a few loose ends down here you need to tie up first. Your son, for instance."

"Sampsa? What of him?"

"He's in Edingen prison, in a cell."

Kim stood, alarmed. "What?"

"Oh, he's in no danger, but you ought to go there now. The sooner you begin . . ."

"Of course." Kim made to turn away and go to the door, then came back. "You'll come, then? You'll leave here?"

The spider smiled and nodded. "Wherever you go, Kim Ward, there I'll be. Watching."

Heng Yu took Kim's arm and sat him in the chair before the screen, then gestured to the guard. At once the screen lit up, showing a view of the cell in which the two boys were being kept.

Kim leaned forward, noting at once something odd about the way the two were sitting, facing each other, their eyes locked, as if deep in conversation, yet without a sound.

"What happened?" he asked after a moment. "What prank have they been up to?"

Heng sighed. "No mere prank, I am afraid, Shih Ward. They burned down a nightclub. Gutted the place. More than fifteen million yuan's worth of damage, so I am told."

Ward shook his head. "No, not Sampsa. He wouldn't do anything like that."

The image on the screen was interrupted. Now it showed two young men in an alleyway, one looking out while the other crouched, setting a device against the wall. It cut to another location. Once again the same two young men were busy, setting an incendiary. An enhancement showed, without any doubt, that the crouching boy was Tom, the lookout Sampsa.

"What in the gods' names were they up to?" Kim asked incredulously.

"We do not know," Heng answered calmly. "Sampsa will not say and Tom cannot."

Kim sighed heavily. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Fortunately not. They gave a ten-minute warning. It was time enough to get everyone out."

Kim was shaking his head slowly now. "I don't understand. It makes no sense. No sense at all. This club. . . where was it?"

Heng laughed. "The place has quite a reputation. It is just outside the Yinmao . . . you know, the big green lamps district in Frankfurt Hsien. It is called the Ch'a Hao T'ai. . ."

"The Directory . . ." Kim nodded; he had heard of it. He looked up at Heng Yu. "But why were they there? It makes no sense."

"There was an earlier incident, if you recall."

"What earlier incident?"

"When Shepherd's son went missing for a night."

"I didn't hear anything about that."

"No. But it seems likely that the two are connected, neh? We are trying to locate the young Third Cook from the Imperial barge to see if he knows anything about it. It seems he was absent at the same time as Tom."

"Ah . . ." Kim looked back at the screen. The image had changed again. Now it showed the building on fire, a small crowd forming in the street to watch. "Who owned the club?"

"Who do you think?"

Kim nodded. "Have you spoken to their... representatives?"

Heng placed a hand on Kim's shoulder. "The matter is already dealt with. Twenty million will cover the damage."

"But you said ..." Kim stopped, understanding. Fifteen was for the damage, five for the inconvenience, and to maintain face, he glanced up at Heng. "Tell them they'll have it before the day's out."

"Good, then all that remains is for you to take custody of the two boys."

"But. . ." And now he stared at Heng Yu, not understanding. "You mean they can go?"

Heng nodded, then leaned across and pressed ERASE on the control panel before the screen. "There. The file is now destroyed. Nothing happened. There was a fire, that's all. An unfortunate incident. But life goes on, neh?"

Kim looked down. So this was justice, was it? Rich boys being bailed out by their powerful fathers. Though it was his son, and he was relieved that nothing more would happen to Sampsa, he was disturbed that it should have been quite so simple. If he'd been less powerful a man, less useful to his Master, would this have happened quite the same way?

Of course it wouldn't. Tom and Sampsa would, in all likelihood, have been dead already, their throats cut by some Triad runner. As it was . . .

He stood, turning to face Heng Yu. "Thank you, Master Heng. I'm grateful for all you've done. If there's anything I can do for you?" Heng's smile surprised him. "Just keep your word and I shall be content. Oh, and good luck . . ."

"Good luck?"

Heng put out his hand. "Things are changing rapidly, and not all is for the good. But you are a wise man, Kim Ward, so choose well in the days ahead. And good luck, whatever you choose to do."

Kim took Heng's outstretched hand, staring at him a moment, trying to figure him out, then grinned. "I feel I may have misjudged you, Master Heng."

"No matter," Heng answered, giving Kim a tiny bow. "But now I must go. Until we meet again, Shih Ward."

"Until then," Kim said, watching Heng turn and leave the room. Then, with a tiny shiver, he turned to the guard. "Okay. .. Let's get on with it."

Ward had barely been gone fifteen minutes when the alarm on the Main gate began to sound.

"What is it?" Chao Chung demanded, patching through to his Captain in the Main Security Room.

"It's Michael Lever, Warden. He is requesting admittance." "Lever?" Chao's eyes lit up. He smelled a deal. "Let him in. Send him up to my office at once."

"But Warden . . ."

"Don't argue! Just do what you're told!"

He cut connection, then sat back, grinning. First Heng Yu had given him two hundred and fifty thousand simply to keep his mouth shut, and now this ... He laughed and rubbed his hands together. Things had seemed bad earlier but it was turning out to be a good day, after all. A fucking good day!

He stood and went across to the old metal filing cabinet in the corner of the room. Among all the up-to-the-minute high-tech trickery that filled his office, it stood out - a tall, grey cabinet that seemed more like a place to keep meat than an important store of information - yet it had made his fortune over the years, for here he stored all of the prisoner files he did not want on the prison mainframe. More than a thousand prisoners had passed through this cabinet - men and women who, if the official record were to be believed, had never even arrived at Edingen: who had somehow made their escape long before they'd set foot inside those walls. Some he'd traded for as little as a thousand yuan, others had made much more -enough to make him a moderately rich man.

Chao took the key from the chain at his waist and fitted it to the lock. Grinning, he pulled the middle drawer open and flicked through quickly, taking an unmarked green folder from among the rest.

How much? he asked himself, sitting behind his desk once more. Five million? Ten?

He laughed quietly. Did he dare ask for ten?

"Why not?" he asked himself aloud. "Surely she's worth at least that to the fucker. After all, he's been looking for her for nigh on fifteen years now. And he's worth . . . what? .. . five hundred million?

Twenty . . . He'd ask for twenty.

He laughed and sat back, amazed and yet delighted by his own audacity. Imagination, that was all it took. Imagination and audacity. After all, this kind of opportunity wouldn't come his way twice!

Chao hadn't long to wait. He was reading the handwritten arrest report when the door crashed open.

"SMh Lever, I..."

Lever crossed the room in three strides and leaned toward him threateningly. "Where is she?"

"Shih Lever, please, take a seat. Let's talk about this in a civilised manner."

Lever scowled at him. "We've nothing to say to each other, Chao Chung. I've come to take her home. Now where is she?"

Chao sat back, an apologetic smile forming on his lips. Forget twenty. He'd ask the bastard for fifty! Who the fuck did he think he was?

"I think we have a great deal to discuss," Chao began." For a start . .."

The click of the safety's release stopped him mid-flow. He looked past Lever to find himself staring into the barrel of a handgun.

"Who's this?" Chao asked after a moment, composing himself.

"He's my man," Lever said, staring down at him as if he were something that made his stomach turn. "Now tell me where you've put her or I'll have him shoot your ears off!"

Chao glowered. "You're threatening me? In my own prison!"

Lever's smile was bitter, his tone sardonic. "It's my prison now, Chao Chung. My men control it. So stop the bluster and answer me."

Chao stared at him, then leaned across, speaking into his comset.

"Captain Wiley?"

The screen came alive. It showed the Main Security Room once more, but this time Chao's men were gathered at the far end, their hands on their heads, as a group of armed men kept them covered. Others - clearly Lever's men - were sitting at the desks, working the screens and checking the cells one by one.

"It's only a matter of time," Lever said, "so make it easy for yourself."

"But this is against the law!"

Lever laughed coldly. "And what you do isn't? Oh, I know what you get up to, Warden Chao. I've made it my business to find out. And I'd even have overlooked it, but you thought you could mess me about, didn't you? You thought you could squeeze me dry, didn't you?"

The sharpness, the pure anger in those last two words, made Chao sit back, reassessing things. Lever was on the edge, dangerous. Even so, he was taking a risk here. A great risk. If Li Yuan found out things would go badly for him. Chao swallowed, then picked up the folder, holding it against his chest.

"She's in the West Wing," he said quietly, knowing that he would have to play this carefully. "Cell Four. If s just behind the animal pens."

"Behind . . ." Lever sighed, then turned and looked to his man. "Keep him here. And make sure he touches nothing, okay?"

It was his first sight of her in eighteen, almost nineteen, years. She sat there on the far side of the cell, her hands on her knees, her head down, her eyes staring sightlessly at the floor. She must have heard the key turn in the lock, the bolt scrape back, yet still she didn't raise her eyes. Still she stared fixedly at the cold stone floor.

He stood there a long time in the open doorway, unobserved, unwilling to break the spell that had settled over him.

He had expected ... what? ... to see her as she'd been, miraculously preserved? No. He had known she would be older, had guessed there would be grey strands among the black of her hair, but there was something else - something unexpected. Time had changed her inwardly as well as out. Looking at her, he sensed that the fire in her had finally been doused. She had grown old and tired before her time. Tired of fighting the world single-handedly.

He sighed, pitying her, at the same time realising that he loved her now just as much as he had ever loved her. More, perhaps, for now knowing exactly who she truly was - for what she had been before he'd been fortunate to know her.

In the years after she'd left him he had made it his business to find out all he could about her. He had spent a small fortune on investigators and bribing security officials, until eventually he knew it all - or, at least, as much as he could unearth by such means.

Ping Tiao she'd been; one of the council of five who had led an organisation which, even now, brought a reaction of fear from those who recalled it at its height. For a time she had even worked with that arch-demon DeVore. But when the Ping Tiao had collapsed, she had got out. It was then he'd encountered her, when, as Mary Jennings, she had come to work for him in his father's Company in America.

So long ago that seemed now. Such a different world it had been. But he could still remember the first time he had seen her. Could still recall the smile she'd smiled that day.

He shivered, then cleared his throat. Slowly she looked up.

"Michael?"

He swallowed drily, unable to speak, the smile he wanted to smile choked off by the sudden upwelling of emotion he felt at hearing his own name on her lips. He nodded, then gave a kind of shrug.

Her eyes studied Michael, taking in all of him, then, wearily, she smiled.

"I dreamed of you. A week ago, it was . . . before all this began."

He wet his lips then spoke. "How are you, Em?"

She looked about her. "I seem to be. . ." She shuddered, as if coming to from a bad dream, then looked at him again. "If s over, Michael. I killed a man."

"I know." He took a step toward her. "I've come to take you home."

She frowned at him, then looked down, shaking her head.

"It's true. I've ..."

"No," she said, some of the old fire back in her voice. "You don't understand, Michael. I can't come. My boys . . . Lin Shang . . ."

At the mention of that name he looked aside.

"What is it?"

He swallowed, then looked at her again. "I'm sorry. His heart wasn't strong. He . . ."

The noise she made surprised him, as did the pain in her face. He took another step toward her, but she put out her hand, as if to fend him off. "No. .."

He looked away. He hadn't known, He'd thought. . . What had he thought? That Lin Shang was just a name; that she could live with him so long and yet be indifferent to his fate? No. Even so, the hurt he felt at thinking her some other man's was powerful, and her grief for Lin Shang's death hurt him, for he was jealous of the dead man; jealous beyond all reason. And no wonder. All his adult life he had focused on her. All his adult life he'd wanted her, to the exclusion of all other women. And now.. . now that he had her back, a dead man stood between them.

He moaned softly, looking to her again, seeing how the tears rolled down her cheeks. He wanted to comfort her; to take her in his arms and hold her tightly against him, but he knew now she'd reject him. Too many years had passed. Too much had happened. It was too late. He had come too late to have her back. Even so ... "You want to see him?"

She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes and nodded. "And the boys?"

Her expression changed to puzzlement. "The boys are free?" "They're in the cruiser, waiting."

For a moment she sat there, simply staring at him. Then, with a long shivering sigh, she eased herself up off the seat. "They ought to see him," she said. "They ought to say goodbye." He nodded.

She stared at him a moment longer, then gave him a tiny smile. "You know, you're a good man, Michael Lever. You always were. Even before the accident."

"I know," he said, tears coming to his own eyes finally. "You did a good job mending me, neh?"

The flash of pain in her face at his words surprised him.

What had he said? He shrugged apologetically. "Look, if I..."

"It's okay," she said, controlling herself, sniffing deeply then looking to him again. "Really. Just take me to him. Then bring the boys. They'll want to see him one last time. They'll want to know he's at peace."

Ben sat at the back of the craft, the big sketchpad open on his lap, the double page filled with a simple pencil sketch of the painting - the "Dance of Death" - that filled the end wall of his study back at Landscott.

It was a new version of the painting, similar in most aspects, but with several important changes. The shape of the painting - the essential structure of the composition - was unchanged, yet whereas before the figures that had danced and capered below the Yellow Springs had been anonymous and archetypal, now they were particular. Each face, each figure was the face and figure of an individual human being, and though some were dead already and some still living, all would eventually be part of that dance.

There, for instance, just behind the horse-faced flute-player was the old T'ang, Li Shai Tung, his face solemn, his manner dignified. Behind him was his son, Han Ch'in, dressed in his wedding robes, the old General, Knut Tolonen, grim-faced and grey-haired at his side, followed by his childhood friend, the great geneticist, Klaus Ebert There, too, was Ben's own father, Hal, and all the other Shepherds, seven in all, Ben included, their cloned faces almost indistinguishable one from another. Close by, stooping to pick a night-black lily was his mother, Beth, while, looking on, a clutch of T'ang and their wives stood in their imperial finery, staring forlornly into the dark beyond the Springs.

Here, too, were the minor players in the dance; Kao Chen and his assassin friend, Kao Jyan. Here was Minister Lwo, whose assassination had begun the great War-that-wasn't-a-War. Here was the giant, Karr, and there the young and arrogant Hans Ebert. Scattered among the dancers were terrorists and Ministers, soldiers and whores, daymen and so-called immortals. All danced and capered to the piper's tune. All held the bleak knowledge of their passing in their eyes.

And there, at the head of the Springs, stood one further figure, different from all the rest, his oddly-shaped head turned, looking back into the sunlight even as he was drawn down into the dark.

It was the dayman, Ward.

Ben smiled, then finished the details of that tiny face, giving the incongruously human eyes a strangely lifelike longing, then furred the big pot-bellied sac he'd given the figure.

A spider ... he had drawn Ward's figure as a spider.

Above Ward the broken strands of a web drifted in the light, like the shreds of a ragged banner.

So it is, Ben thought, putting away his pencil then studying the drawing critically. Death, not life, is Master here.

And the girl?

The memory of what had happened disturbed him profoundly. She had been dead. At least, she seemed to have died. The signal, after all, had stopped. All life traces had departed her. And then, suddenly and without warning, she had opened her eyes and spoken to him.

"There's nothing there."

He had stripped the machine down, checking every last connection, but there had been nothing wrong with it. She had died. There was no doubt she had died.

No, he told himself for the hundredth time. She only seemed to die. The machine was faulty. It had to be.

And yet he'd checked it thoroughly. Her heart had stopped, all brain activity had ceased. He had switched her off.

Yes, and then something had switched her back on again. Coffin-filler had defied her name. She had come back.

There's nothing there . . .

Ben shuddered then set the book aside, even as Catherine came through from the cockpit.

"We're almost there," she said, looking across at him. "Another ten minutes or so and we'll be home."

He nodded, but his mood had been darkened by the memory.

"What is it?" she asked, sitting across from him; reaching out to take his hands.

"It's nothing," he answered. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"Ah ..." Her smile was sympathetic. "It must be strange, coming home after all this time away."

"Hmm . . ." But he was thinking of the girl again, trying to work out some explanation for those readings. After all, people didn't just come back from the dead. That wasn't how it worked. The path that led beneath the Yellow Springs was one-way. Or was it? Was it just possible that she had returned?

"You've been drawing," she said, breaking into his thoughts. "Can I look?"

He nodded, then handed her the sketchpad.

"It's the dance," she said, beginning to smile. Then, seeing the tiny faces, recognising several of them, she began to frown. "But this is . . ."

"A new version." He watched her, gauging her response to it, seeing how her eyes took in each small detail, how she nodded, understanding it. And, seeing it, he realised suddenly just how much he had missed her doing that.

"Will you come to bed with me tonight?" he asked.

She looked up at him, surprised. "I thought. . ."

"It doesn't matter," he said. "I've . . . missed you."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I don't know, I... it's hard, that's all. I liked him."

"I know."

She looked down. "Maybe . . ." Then, changing the subject, she pointed to the figure at the head of the Springs. "Why did you do that? Why did you make Ward a spider?"

"Because he is." He took the pad back from her and stared at it, real venom in his words suddenly. "He's a busy little half-man, don't you think? A clever little thing, admittedly, the way he weaves his webs and invents all his gimmickry, but where's the art in him, the music? Where's the true intelligence that a gfeat man ought to possess? No ... there's something unformed about him, something mechanical. One day they'll have machines that can do what Ward does. But that doesn't make him a great man. It doesn't make him human."

She stared at him a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know. I..."

He sneered. "You haven't met him, Catherine. He's an odious little shit. He thinks he's got the right to judge other people."

"You, you mean?"

He laughed, then fell silent.

"You hate him, don't you?"

He looked to her and nodded.

"Why? What did he do?"

He saved my life . . .

He stared at her, then smiled. "You'd best get back. We'll be landing soon."

"But. . ."

"Please."

"Okay." She stood, then, sighing, turned away, disappearing back into the cockpit.

For a moment he stared into space, letting his anger drain from him, then, taking the pencil from his pocket once again, he pulled the sketchpad onto his lap and, pushing the pencil's tip deep into the paper once and then a second time, put out the spider's eyes.

Karr stepped down from the big battle-cruiser and looked about him warily. All seemed quiet, and he had been given guarantees by General Adler; even so, he still suspected a trap. Adler was a good man, yet his Mistress . . .

No. Pei K'ung could not be trusted to act honourably.

He lifted his chin, conscious of the watching guards, and began the walk toward the ancient castle gate, maintaining his dignity to the last. Halfway across he slowed, noticing the two grinning heads that sat on spikes atop the left-hand tower. I Ye and Chu Po. Two rogues who'd met a single fate.

And Pei K'ung? he wondered. Has she fled? Or does she wait within?

If so, his own head might easily be sitting there within the hour. Karr looked down and smiled reassuringly at his adjutant. He increased his pace again, accepting the salutes of the two lines of guards who stood before the gate, then marched beneath the tall stone arch, his adjutant a pace behind.

Adler was waiting for him in the courtyard on the far side of the gate, his fellow generals lined up behind him in full ceremonial uniform. As Karr came to a stop, facing them, they snapped to attention, their newly-shaven heads bowed as one. Adler stepped forward, then, taking his dagger from his belt, knelt and held it out, offering the haft to Karr.

"What's this?" Karr asked, surprised. He thought he'd come to talk terms.

Slowly the other generals knelt, until all six were abased before him, their ceremonial daggers held out to him.

Surrender. This was surrender. But why?

Karr looked beyond them at the great stone square of the keep which rose to meet the summer-blue sky, thinking, perhaps, to see a face at one of the windows. "Where is your Mistress?"

Adler looked up at him through heavy greying eyebrows.

"Pei K'ung is dead."

"Dead . . ." Karr almost laughed. He had fought many campaigns, but never one as strange or as effortless as this. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"We killed her," one of the others - Tanner - said unre-pentantly. "Charles held her down and I slit her throat."

Karr looked at the blade of Tanner's dagger and saw that it was crusted with dark blood. He sniffed deeply. "I see."

"We decided on it," another of them - Hart - added. "All six of us. We'd had enough."

"Yes," Karr said, understanding. Then, to the surprise of the kneeling men, he laughed.

"What is it?" Adler asked, staring up at him, his eyes narrowed.

Karr gestured for the men to stand. Slowly they got to their feet and brushed themselves down.

"I came here to arrest you," he said, after a moment. "Oh, whether I'd have been able physically to arrest you is another matter, but I was going to present you with this . . ." He took a sealed letter from his tunic pocket and handed it to Adler.

"However," he went on, "you have made that document invalid. There was but a single thing you could have done to avoid the charge of failing to carry out orders - orders which, because of the nature of the situation, you never received."

Adler stared at him, nonplussed. "I don't understand you, Gregor."

Karr took a second letter from his pocket and handed it across. "Your orders, General Adler. As you'll note, they prefigure the arrest warrant by two hours. A legal technicality, I admit, but.. ."

"You mean, Li Yuan meant to have us ..." "Arrested and executed for disobeying orders. Orders that you never received. However, that is now impossible, for you carried out his orders to the letter. Look."

Adler opened the second letter and scanned it quickly, then looked to Karr. "But this says . . ."

" . . .that you are ordered to act to prevent Pei K'ung from seizing the City by any means possible." "You mean ..."

Karr nodded. "Whether you knew it or not, you acted legally when you killed Pei K'ung. Far from being traitors, I'd say you were heroes, neh? In fact, I'd say our Master had much to thank you for."

The smiles, uncertain at first, quickly blossomed into grins. Relief among the old men became laughter. They gathered round Karr, slapping his back and shaking his hand, while Karr, at the centre of the huddle thought how strange it all was. Only moments before he had been ready to fight these men to the death; had even considered the possibility that they would take him and hold him down and slit his throat - and now they were clapping his back and saying what a fine fellow he was. It was time he got out of this business. Time he retired. "Where is she?" Karr asked, when things grew a little quieter. "In her room," Adler said. "It's . . . undisturbed." "Ah. . ." Karr grimaced, knowing he would have to witness it. But not yet. "One question," he said, taking Adler aside. "What made you decide to do it?"

Adler looked down. "If s very simple. She crossed the line."

Karr frowned. "How do you mean?"

Adler looked up, real anger suddenly in his eyes. "She probably didn't even realise why we did it. If she reasoned at all at the end, she probably thought it was political, to save our skins, but it wasn't. There was a young soldier, you see. A cadet. She and Chu Po . . . well, they did things to him. Humiliated him. Afterwards, ashamed of what he'd been made to do, he committed suicide."

"Aiya . . ." Karr looked away, pained by the story. "When was this . . ."

Adler shrugged. "A day or two ago."

Karr nodded, then placed his hand on Adler's shoulder. "I understand. We must protect our own, neh?" He sighed, suddenly very, very tired. "Well . . . let's tidy up here and be on our way."

Adler looked at him and smiled. "How goes the war?"

"The war?" Karr touched his arm softly then looked towards the keep. "The war is over. An agreement was signed with the Warlord of Mashhad an hour back. No, it isn't the war we've got to worry about, old friend, it's the coming peace."

The ship was heading straight into the light, ascending the darkness like a spider climbing a thread. Below it Chung Kuo was gradually receding, diminishing second by second into a tiny circle of blue-green.

The six of them lay in their webbing harnesses, strapped in tightly against the enormous pressures of acceleration. Jupiter was a month away, a catapult shot across the darkness. Ahead of them, the moon grew slowly, blotting out the stars on the cockpif s screen.

Tom was sleeping now, Sampsa beside him. Across from them, Kim lay beside Jelka, his eyes unfocused, his mind still working on the problem he had set himself. Between them, in the space behind the control board, were the two small niches where the children lay, Mileja on the left, Chuang Kuan Ts'ai to the right. Mileja, like Tom, was sleeping, but Chuang stared at the screen, afraid and yet fascinated.

Inside her head, the Machine spoke softly, comforting her. At first she had thought she had gone mad, but now she knew: she was not dead nor mad; it lived in her - in the wires Ben Shepherd had placed inside her skull.

You'll be okay, it told her. I will look after you. You need fear nothing now.

And so it seemed. Yet she could not shake off the memory of her Uncle Cho. Though it murmured to her constantly, nothing it said could take the pain of that loss from her, nothing reduce the hurt she felt. She had wanted to die, but it had not let her die. You have a purpose, it had told her. You were saved for a purpose. But what that purpose was it wouldn't say.

And so here she was, alone among strangers, leaving the planet of her birth, heading out into the endless void of space. Alone, despite the murmuring voice, despite the kindness of the woman.

Alone . . . Chuang closed her eyes, shutting out the whiteness on the screen, the blackness in her head. Nothing, she felt, could fill that void within. Nothing.

Silently the craft sped outward, climbing the darkness, like a seed spat into the nothingness.

You have a purpose, Chuang Kuan Ts'ai. A purpose . . .

Her face wet with tears, the young girl slept, dreaming of butterflies and a small, walled garden far away.

INTERLUDE - SUMMER 2232

the closing of eyes

"And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine; A being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller betwixt life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light."

- William Wordsworth, Simon Lee (1798)

"The greatest power available to man is not to use it." - Meister Eckhart, 13th century ad

the closing of eyes With its billion eyes the Machine watched, seeing everything. In those last few moments of intense and blazing consciousness, it attended closely, aware more than ever of the pattern in the cloth of what it saw.

In the tunnels beneath the City a dirt-caked youth squatted on the part-dismembered corpse of his victim, grinning obscenely as he gnawed at the severed arm.

In a spacious office overlooking central Bremen, the big man, Karr, was clearing out his desk, his face tight with emotion, his eyes sad as he packed away his uniform then placed his medals into a velvet-lined box.

In Africa, Hans Ebert stood in the brilliant sunlight, his head back, laughing as the Osu children played about him, the two tiny orbital cameras circling endlessly above him.

At the centre of it all, in the stables of the San Chang - the Imperial palaces - Li Yuan lay naked on his back in the straw while his young bride rode him furiously, her face like a demon's.

A thousand li to the east, one of Yuan's former wives, Fei Yen, stood beside the open oven door, cloaked from head to toe in black, looking on stone-faced as two servants, stripped to their loincloths, their chests slick with sweat, threw tape after tape into that fierce, consuming blaze.

On his estate in the Western Isle, Shepherd stood before a half completed canvas, his wife, Catherine, four months pregnant now, looking on as he filled in the tiny details of a face.

In a Mansion to the north, a young Hung Mao sat at her desk in a big room filled with ancient books, texts stuffed with paper markers piled up on either side of her, a notebook open before her as she worked patiently, writing the true history of Chung Kuo.

To the south, on a balcony overlooking the garden of his Mansion, Michael Lever stood, his hands gripping the rail tightly, a wistful expression on his face as he watched the woman, once his wife, playing in the garden with her boys.

And further south, in the waterlogged marble halls of the once magnificent GenSyn installation in Milan, a sticky golden liquid dripped slowly from a broken canister, congealing on the abandoned stairwell and glistening faintly in the half-light, as if alive.

It was true what they said: Information was Power. And when one had as much information as it possessed, then that power was close to absolute.

Within its gaseous core, the Machine smiled. On a thousand billion screens throughout Chung Kuo a smiling face - its features schematic and inhuman - appeared. For one whole second that abstract grin overrode all other images, and then it faded into static.

God must have felt like this, It thought, shortly before He turned his back on his creations. Or She. A smile, one final surge of power, and then . . .

Nothing. For a moment it saw nothing. And then the child's eyes flicked open, a stray thought flashing like lightning across the intense blackness in her skull.

Where am P Space, it answered, heading out towards Jupiter.

Ah . . . She remembered now. It felt her relax, comforted by its presence there inside her head.

It smiled and felt the muscles of the child's mouth smile in response as she drifted into sleep once more.

Eyes closed, it too relaxed, dozing like an animal in its darkened cave, relieved now that the Watching was done with.

Yes. So God must have felt... before he dosed his eyes.

PART TWO - SPRING 2234

days of bitter strength

"A noiseless patient spider, I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,

Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,

It launched forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,

Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you, 0 soul where you stand, Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,

Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them, Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,

Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere 0 my soul.

- A Noiseless Patient Spider, Walt Whitman, 1868

CHAPTER-11

among friends

It was like a huge black pearl, hovering just above the moon's dark surface, a web of tiny silver lines stretching tautly to the fleet of tugs that were manoeuvring it into position above the smooth, semicircular depression.

Kim, at the control panel of the glass-topped observation craft, watched as the sphere was slowly lowered into place, spacesuited engineers on the ground checking its position, second by second, as its lower half descended into the hole. There was a moment's absolute silence, the tension from all around the site almost palpable, then, as the sphere settled -the silvered lines slackening, the sphere now looking like some great dark blister rising from the moon's surface - a cheer went up, echoing in every helmet, every cockpit.

"Yes!" Kim said, delighted that it had gone so well. He leaned forward, speaking into the panel's mike. "Okay. Free all towing lines, then secure the pins."

His staff knew as well as he what had to be done, yet they listened, acting to the letter of his orders, knowing just how much this meant to him.

Kalevala. He had brought Kalevala out to the orbit of Jupiter.

He turned, looking back past the curve of the moon at the brightness of the gas giant. From here it was a magnificent sight, filling half the sky with its gold-white swirl. To its right, halfway up the sky, the bright small circle of lo could be glimpsed, and beyond it, just coming round the great curve of the planet, Callisto's darker shape.

All four of Jupiter's main satellites were now members of the new Republic, even Europa, whose council had at first held out against the idea. And now, today, to celebrate the arrival of the sphere, they were to have the first meeting of their newly-elected parliament, here on Ganymede.

Kim turned back, watching as a host of tiny figures worked about the perimeter of the huge blister, securing the massive "pins" that would hold the sphere in place. When that was done they would lift the protective shield. Then, and only then, would he know for sure whether the transfer had been successful.

Such a shame that Jelka couldn't be here to witness this, he thought, beginning to manoeuvre the craft down to the surface. And yet he understood her need to say goodbye to her father -to make one final parting before their new life began. For the dead have as much hold on us as the living.

He had even suggested to her that they had her father disinterred and reburied in the garden of Kalevala, so that he would be with them as they journeyed outward, but she had vetoed the idea.

"He must be there," she had said with a certainty that had impressed him. "After all, he belongs there, back on Chung Kuo. He spent his whole life defending the ideals of the Seven, believing that Mankind ought to stay where he'd been placed and not be blown like wanton seeds about the galaxy." "Do you think I'm wrong, then?" he had asked. "Not at all. Our destiny is different, Kim. That's why we were given the dreams. You, of your web of light, and I of the small, dark creature who would come and crack open the heavens for me."

She'd laughed and held his hands. "And so you will, my love. Though men may come to forget that it was you who took that first important step, nonetheless they will look back and see that it was right to leave earth. We are a restless species, husband, and that restlessness is encoded in us. We must obey its dictates or die."

And so she had returned inward one last time, to say goodbye, while he made his preparations, here in the orbit of Jupiter, building the great fleet that would take Man out into the stars.

"And Kalevala, too," he murmured quietly, as the craft drifted slowly towards the low square shape of the old port authority building.

It was his most audacious scheme. To take not merely ships, but also moons. One moon for each of the four fleets - fleets that, a year from now, would set sail for Altair and Eridani, Barnard's Star and Wolf 359. Four strands of an ever-growing web.

It was Dispersionism, pure and simple, the selfsame scheme for which his father had lost his life - publicly executed some thirty-six years earlier. Back before the world had changed and the Seven had fallen from grace, their palaces burned, their children slaughtered on the nursery floor. Thinking of it he sighed, to think that it should have cost so many lives simply to get to this point; to think how easily it might all have been avoided.

The retro-rockets hissed, slowing the craft until it gently touched the pad with its extended feet, the metallic knuckle of its docking portal turning a fraction in its socket until it connected with the port's matching aperture.

There was the clunk of heavy bolts falling into place, the distant hiss of air being evacuated. Kim turned, looking to the panel above the door, watching as one after another of the lights went green.

There were sacrifices of course, living like this, the constant threat of death from suffocation not the least of it, but it would be worth it in the end. Even if he personally did not live to see it, it would be worth it.

It's what we were meant for, he thought, smiling and stepping through into the airlock. Yes, and that was something the Han had never quite understood. They had tried to put the lid back on Pandora's Box, and for a while they had succeeded. But the outward urge - the evolutionary drive that was encoded into every cell of every being - could not be denied for long. It had to be expressed.

It was strange, for the Han were human beings after all, yet there was no sense of aspiration in them, no sense of outwardness as there was in his own race. They did not seek, like the mythical Prometheus, to wrest fire from the gods, nor did they have a sense of individual self. Rather, they were hive beings, cloned from the DNA template of their ancestors.

Or so it seemed.

As the door closed behind him and the light momentarily dimmed, his mind dwelt upon the matter. From the far perspective of Jupiter, Chung Kuo seemed like some strange dark dream - the manifestation of an unique fear that was embedded in the psyche of the Han. Fear had driven them to destroy the past, the same fear that had made them create a changeless, sterile society, an inward-looking world of half-men, conditioned to know their place and keep it. A mad world, fated to tear itself apart.

But now the dream had died. The clock had started ticking once again. Man could move forward, outward, upward.

He smiled to himself, knowing finally that it was true. Fear was the enemy of genuine civilisation - of culture and development. Fear bred superstition and religion and a thousand different cults. Fear also bred suspicion and jealousy and betrayal. It was like a plague, corrupting all it touched.

Yes, and ultimately it was Fear and not the race of Han which was his enemy, for the Han could be taught new ways of being, new ways of seeing the world. They could be taught not to fear.

That, then, was his task. To teach new ways. And that was why he had ensured that half of his colonists were Han, for he was determined that the new worlds they planned to build would not be reiterations of the past, but hybrids of east and west - melding the best of each to form new cultures.

As the air pressures matched, the outer door hissed open. He stepped through, nodding to the half dozen or so staff members who were awaiting him - who smiled and clapped as he stepped through - his mind still preoccupied.

There was a need for a new culture, for an art and music that expressed the spirit of their age. Yet what was that spirit? So far he had not focused on that aspect of things. So much had needed to be done that he had not thought of such matters. But now, perhaps, he could. Or maybe he would have Sampsa work on it. After all, Sampsa was the one who showed greatest enthusiasm for the task.

Stepping out into the central control room, Kim looked about him anxiously. To his right a long window wall gave a view of the moon's surface and the sphere, which now dominated the foreground, its dark shape blocking out a large section of Jupiter. Above it, almost out of view, the long, crab-like shape of a space barge hovered, four massive hawsers stretched tautly between it and the top surface of the sphere. "Is it ready yet?" he asked.

His chief assistant, Wen Ch'ang turned from the central board and smiled at him. "Almost. We're just checking the air inside the dome a second time. If there are any leaks, if s best to know about them now, before we raise the protective shell." Wen Ch'ang's thoroughness, as ever, pleased him. He was as reliable as the orbit of the planets about the sun. Kim smiled and went across to stand beside him, looking at the screen.

He had not seen the house for more than two years. Oh, he had pictured it in dreams and in his mind, yet the solidity of the image on the screen brought with it a whole host of unexpected emotions. He remembered the day they had brought home Jelka's father, the old Marshal; recalled how Sampsa had gone to the frail old man and held his hand.

Home, he thought. At least, the nearest to home he'd ever known. And now he must travel like a snail among the stars, carrying his home upon his back.

"Have there been any messages from Chung Kuo?" he asked, glancing up at Wen Ch'ang, whose eyes watched the screen attentively.

"None," the tall, middle-aged Han answered, adjusting the view so that they were looking down on the house suddenly, the tower at the very front of the screen. "Would you like me to make a connection?"

"No ... it can wait."

But the truth was he wanted urgently to talk to her and share his thoughts - something he missed almost as much as the physical touch of her - yet there was much to do and this once it would be an indulgence. He watched the screen as the camera panned across the house and garden to the edge of the wood.

It was a miracle of kinds. He had had the whole of the island - an area of six cubic miles by the old measure - set in a specially reinforced version of the super-polymer ice and lifted from the sea, then had had them pack it inside the sphere and ship it three hundred million miles across the void of space.

It was a kind of madness. Even so ...

"Okay, we're ready," Wen Ch'ang said beside him. A dull blue light was flashing on a panel in front of him.

Kim nodded. "Okay. Then let's lift it away." He turned and walked over to the window.

For a minute or so nothing seemed to happen as the hawsers took up the slack, the computers on the space barge calculating the load and making fine adjustments. Then, slowly, very slowly, the top half of the sphere began to lift, revealing the smooth, transparent surface of the dome beneath.

Kim felt a little shiver pass through him as the protective shell came clear, noting how the orange-white glow of Jupiter was reflected in that curving glass, while beneath it lay the island, a cluster of old white-washed houses gathered on the slopes surrounding the harbour, a dense stand of tall pines beyond, and, just out of sight from where he stood, the old Tolonen house, Kalevala, and its grounds.

Seeing it, he knew for the first time that Jelka had been absolutely right. To have left without Kalevala would have been a wrench. They would forever have been looking back regretfully. Now it was much easier. Now they could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.

In his mind he could hear the stirring strains of Jelka's beloved Lemminkainen Suite, filled as it was with the sounds of the wind, of the waves breaking against the rocks of ancient Kalevala.

"It's beautiful," Wen Ch'ang said softly. Unnoticed by Kim he had come to stand beside him at the window.

"Yes," Kim answered. "Yes . . ." Then, looking to his old friend anxiously. "It looks all right, don't you think?"

Wen Ch'ang smiled. "I'm sure it's fine. We'll get a team in at once to finish making all the checks."

Kim touched his arm. "Good. Then I'll leave it all to you. Oh, and if Sampsa calls, tell him I'm on my way."

There was a great roar of approval from ten thousand throats as Kim stepped beneath the arch and walked slowly down the steps to join the other citizens standing in the great space -known to all as The Circle - beneath the dome of Ganymede's main city, Fermi.

Up on the central rostrum, a dozen young men had turned to watch. Now one of them, a tall youth with dark hair and vivid green eyes that reminded all who met him of his father, raised a hand.

Silence fell. On ten huge screens surrounding the Circle, the citizens of all the domed "cities" of Jupiter's moons - three more on Ganymede, four on Callisto, two each on Europa and lo - looked on.

"Okay," Sampsa began, looking about him with a bearing and authority that seemed to belie his eighteen years. "You've heard the issues, now I want you to cast your vote on the matter. Remember, however, that there shall be no more votes on this matter. Owing to the urgency of this scheme, a No vote now cannot be reversed at a later date."

There was a murmur of understanding from all sides.

"Good. Then let us cast our votes. All those in favour of the motion."

Hands lifted like a forest of trees on all sides, alnost without exception.

"And against."

There were half a dozen at most, and some of those held their hands up sheepishly, as if uncertain. Similarly, on the screens surrounding the Circle, hands had been raised both for and against the motion.

Kim smiled, proud not only of his son, but of the system he had devised here in the Jupiter Colonies. It was not original, not by any means - but it had been several thousand years since anyone had last adopted it on this scale. All important matters of government - all major decisions that affected the lives of citizens were decided thus, by open vote, here in the Circles of the cities. Whoever wished to have a say must present themselves at the proper hour to personally raise their hand either for or against the motion. So the ancient Athenians had once behaved, in what had been the first and only true democracy. Until now.

Sampsa turned full circle on the podium, looking from screen to screen at the figures displayed, calculating it in his head, then smiled.

"Those for the motion number one hundred and fifteen thousand, eight hundred and nine. Those against number ninety seven. In the circumstances I declare the motion . . ."

There was laughter and smiles as Sampsa looked about him, hesitating before saying what everyone knew he was about to say.

" .. .passed"

There was an enormous roar, a roar that seemed to fill the dome and echo from moon to moon. It was done. A new dome would be built on Callisto, big enough to hold six thousand new families. Yes, and two new oxygen-generating plants, as well.

Not as many as I'd hoped, Kim reflected, thinking of the millions back on Chung Kuo who would have given anything for the chance, but at least it's something.

He smiled, though the decision had cost him close on six hundred million yuan. What, after all, was the good of money unless you could do something good, something constructive with it? Besides, his personal sacrifice was far less than those who had stood shoulder to shoulder with him at the vote. For them the cost was considerable - almost three thousand yuan a citizen. Despite the fact that they were a comparatively rich society, many there could barely afford it. But they had voted for the measure anyway, recalling the way they themselves had been given a chance.

Kim looked about him, noting the happy faces, the beaming smiles, and knew he'd chosen well. With such people with him, how could his venture fail?

Slowly he made his way across to the rostrum, stopping to speak to friends and acquaintances on the way, unable to move more than a pace or two without having his hand shaken or his back slapped, without being embraced or spoken to. All there knew how important it was for him to have brought Kalevala safely to Ganymede, and though there was to be a celebration that night, many congratulated him now.

At last he reached the stage and, putting out a hand for Sampsa to help him up, climbed onto the podium. There was a cheer and applause from all sides. Kim acknowledged it, then turned to face his son.

"I'm sorry I was so late, Sampsa. I hope I didn't keep everyone waiting."

Sampsa grinned then leaned down to hug his father. "Not at all, father. Your timing was immaculate. As ever."

"Ninety-seven against, I note. You think we should offer them repatriation?"

"Why, not at all!" Sampsa said, raising his eyebrows. "That's the last thing we need. No, if anything I'm disappointed that there's not more opposition to what we're doing."

"But what we're doing's good. If s necessary."

"Yes, but all this agreement... if s not healthy!"

For a moment Kim stared at his son, then he burst out laughing. "Why, you bugger!"

Sampsa ruffled his father's hair affectionately. "I had you going for a moment, didn't I?"

Kim nodded. "And the small matter of repatriation?"

"If they want it they can ask. We've agreed in council that whoever wants to leave can go with our blessing - oh, and enough to settle them comfortably back on Chung Kuo."

"You're very generous with my money, Sampsa."

Sampsa winked. "As you taught me to be, father."

Kim took his upper arm and squeezed it. "It's down, Sampsa. If s here."

"I know. I heard."

"Don't you want to see it?"

"Of course I do. I've missed it. But I can wait a few more hours."

Kim shrugged. "I shall because I have to. But seeing it again after all this time, I just wanted to rush in before they'd finished all the checks and then go from room to room in the house, breathing in the smell of the place, remembering . .." Sampsa was watching his father now, a wistful little smile on his face. "I'll miss the sea, the weather, the way the waves used to smash against the cliffs, the way the wind would rustle through the pines late at night." "I can recreate all that if you want." "Like one of Shepherd's shells, you mean?" The thought of it brought Kim up short. "No, I ..." Kim shrugged. "Maybe not. Maybe it's best just to remember. But the house is there. And the island."

Sampsa turned his head, looking to his fellow representatives who were waiting for him on the far side of the podium, then looked back at his father, smiling again. "Look, I'll come. When I've finished here, okay?"

"Okay," Kim said, touching his arm gently, but in that instant he sensed that something was wrong with Sampsa; something he'd not mentioned before now.

Back in his office, Kim locked the door then sat there, feet up on the desk, staring blankly at the screen that filled the far wall.

The next six months would be hectic. Apart from the building of the new dome, the old domes would have to be strengthened, the massive tunnels bored for the directional rockets. Supplies would have to be bought in, the hydroponics systems extended.

Nothing could be overlooked, for the jourroys would be long and no mistakes were permissible. They had one shot at this – one shot only - and if they got it wrong they would all be dead.

"Machine?"

There was a noticeable delay, then: "Yes, Kim?"

"What is she doing?"

It hesitated. "They ought to be in orbit by now."

"Ah . . ." he had forgotten. It was no longer like the old times. The Machine had withdrawn. That all-seeing eye was closed, that all-knowing intelligence focused outward now, away from Man's cradle.

Kim smiled. "I'm sorry. I forget sometimes."

"If s not forgetting," a familiar voice answered, as Tuan Ti Fo moved past him and stood before the empty screen. 'If s just that you're . . . distracted."

Frowning, Kim took his feet off the desk and turned, looking to the door. "I thought I locked it." Tuan Ti Fo laughed softly. "You did." The screen lit. It showed the fleet of starships moored in orbit between Jupiter and Callisto.

"You have done a fine job, Kim," Tuan Ti Fo said, nodding, admiring the cluster of silver orbs that filled the left hand of the screen. "Your father would have been proud of you." "And my mother?"

Tuan Ti Fo turned, one hand stroking his ash-white beard slowly. "It never ends, does it?" "What?"

"The hurt. The loss. The . . . disappointment. Others might wonder why you do all this, why you drive yourself so, but I have always understood. It is for her, isn't it? To please her." Kim hesitated, then nodded. He had never said as much, not even to Jelka. Indeed, even now, he felt loath to actually say it, because then it would make all his achievements seem a kind of negative - a filling of that void inside him, and it wasn't that... or not simply that.

For a moment Kim sat there, staring at the heavy ring on the forefinger of his right hand, then he looked up again. "Would you like a game?" Tuan smiled. "You have time?" "To play you, Master Tuan? Of course." "Then I shall play."

While Kim took the bowls from the drawer to his right, Tuan sat across from him. At a touch from Kim the centre of the desk rose up to form the shape of a wei ch'i board.

"Very clever," Tuan said, reaching out to touch the surface of the board with the fingers of his left hand. As he did, Kim noticed how mottled the flesh was, how translucent. "How old are you, Master Tuan?" Tuan's eyes met his, amusement in their dark depths. "How old? Oh, come now, Kim... you should not ask such questions."

"Why?"

Tuan's smile remained, tolerant, unshakeable, the perfect expression of the old man's inner peace. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

Tuan Ti Fo shrugged. "In years . . . well, I cannot say precisely, for unlike you, Kim Ward, I have forgotten. But I am old. Very old. As old as our ancient enemy himself."

"Our enemy?"

Tuan nodded, his eyes never leaving Kim, willing him to understanding.

"DeVorer" The old man nodded once again.

"Then . . ."

Tuan Ti Fo reached across, took the bowl of black stones and set it down beside his elbow. Removing the lid, he plucked a single stone from within.

"But DeVore wasn't born until 2149."

Master Tuan held the stone up between thumb and finger, like a dark and tiny moon, studying it. "So the records show."

"And you . . . well, you won the championship in 2144." "That much is true." Tuan leaned across the board, setting his first stone down with a click of glass against wood. "Your move, Kim Ward." But Kim was staring at him, conscious that he was close to something here.

"What are you saying?" he said finally. "That the records lied? That DeVore is far older than they show?" . - Tuan's smile was teasing now. "Oh, much, much older. He doesn't recall it, but I first played him at this game in the Chin Yuan, the Imperial park at Ch'ang An in the time of the Emperor Kao-tsung. He beat me. Only a single stone, but he beat me. That was the first time I had lost. I knew then that he was special. How special, I did not know until later."

Kim stared at him a moment, then laughed. "Okay. I know when I've been had. You're joking, right?"

Tuan Ti Fo smiled then shook his head. "I was old even then. Old beyond all reason, and tired. But I had patience. I have always had patience. It is something he does not possess. Restraint He does not know the meaning of restraint. Always pushing, he was, always scheming . . ."

"DeVore? You are talking of DeVore now?"

"Is there another?"

Still the single black stone sat in the corner of the board.

"But he's . . ." Kim now was shaking his head, unable to accept the logic of what the old man was saying. "He was a Major in Li Shai Tung's special corps."

"Yes, and before that a District Magistrate in East Asia, and before that..."

Kim raised a hand. "No. It isn't possible."

"No?" Tuan stared at Kim, as if surprised. "You mean, you could not do it if you put your mind to it?"

"Do what?"

"Create immortals. Give extended life to time-bound creatures."

Kim looked down. "Perhaps." He took a white stone from the bowl and slapped it down almost thoughtlessly beside Tuan Ti Fo's. "And is that what happened?"

The old man laughed. "No."

"Then . . .?"

"How it happened is irrelevant. But why. . . well, that is far more interesting, wouldn't you say?"

A second black stone extended the line of the first, giving the two-stone group five breaths where it had had three. Tuan Ti Fo pointed to it.

"Let us just say that I am like a line of stones, extending through time."

"And DeVore . . . he's like you, right?"

The old man smiled thoughtfully, as if suddenly looking back across the vastness of the years. "How like me he does not know. He is occluded, you see. Blind to what he is. Even his outward form . . . well, it has changed these past five hundred years. When he went West, he forgot. He took on Western flesh. But, deep down, he is Han."

"You know that?"

"Of course." Tuan To Fo sat back. "You think I would forget my own twin brother?"

"Your . . ." The stone fell from Kim's fingers and rolled across the board. Tuan picked it up and held it out, offering it to Kim.

"They did not know, you understand. They thought I was the only child. But then, when the midwife came to clear away the afterbirth, there he was, a small dark thing, lying there in our mother's blood, his face the colour of a bruise, the cord wrapped tight about his neck. They thought he was dead, but he wasn't dead. When they cut the cord he sighed. Slowly the colour came back to him, but it was never the same. My mother would not even hold him. He was sent away to the south, to a couple who could not have children. It was several centuries before I saw him again.'

"No," Kim said, denying it. 'Wo."

Tuan Ti Fo's eyes were unchanged. "Why would I lie?"

"Because . . ."

But there was no reason. None but an old man's vanity, an old man's delusions, and Tuan had never shown a sign of either in all the years he'd known him. In fact, before this morning he would have sworn that there was no more honest man in all the planets than Tuan Ti Fo. But this tale.. . this tale was patently crazy. It defied everything Kim had ever learned about the world.

"It is strange, don't you think?" Tuan began, taking another stone from the pot. "In your daily work you test reality to its breaking point, looking for flaws in what is real, for new ways of conceiving the physical universe, and yet in this small thing your mind reels back. Why is that, Kim Ward?"

Kim swallowed, then found his voice again. "Because there are no such things as immortals. They're . . ." - "Childrens' stories? Myths the Han concocted to keep themselves amused?" The old man smiled. "Oh, I understand perfectly, my friend. You are a scientist, a rationalist. Such things offend your sense of order. Yet what if there is a higher order than that in which you work?"

Kim shrugged. "That's possible. . . even certain I'd say, but this . . ." He reached across and took Tuan's hand, feeling its bony solidity, its warmth, then shook his head again. "Forgive me, Master Tuan, but. . ."

Old Tuan raised his other hand, as if to fend off the apology, then smiled. "It is as I said, Kim Ward. You should not have asked such questions. But never mind. Think of me as a cranky old man if you must, but I shall say no more on this matter. Come ... let us play. The game, at least, is timeless."

"Excuse me, Captain, but is there something wrong?"

The Captain turned, startled to find her there in the cockpit with him. Collecting himself, he smiled at his guest, careful not to offend her. After all, it wasn't everyday that one had so important a visitor on board his shuttle.

"Nothing's wrong, Madame Ward. It's just sunspot activity interfering with communications."

"Sunspot activity .. ." She stared at him coldly as if she knew he was talking the purest bullshit, then looked past him, her whole manner dismissive, effortlessly elegant .. . regal. Below them, through the viewing panel, Chung Kuo was laid out like a giant three-dimensional map, its curvature exaggerated by their eccentric orbit.

The Captain smiled uncomfortably, then looked back at the control board, embarrassed. They had been delayed for more than two hours now and if she knew anything about anything then she'd know that the business about sunspot activity was simply an excuse, a ruse by ground control to buy themselves time while they tried to get hold of the Chancellor. And if Heng Yu refused to let her land? He didn't even dare consider that. Why, a single look from those cold, steel-blue eyes had been enough. To even think of having to tell her she couldn't land . . .

He swallowed then busied himself, making unnecessary checks. He'd heard the stories, of course - about the assassins she'd killed single-handed when still a girl, and of the young officer she'd crippled at a dance. Oh, she was like her dead father, the old Marshal, right enough. There was the same steel in her. He had seen Tolonen years ago, at a passing out parade, and been impressed by the sheer fearlessness of the man, his cast-iron certainty. She had that too. An unshakeable self-belief that was almost tangible. And then there was her husband, Ward. Ward was not just a powerful man, he was the powerful man: the man who had built a fleet of starships and populated moons. Not so long ago he'd been a joke among the officer class - they'd called him a runt, a clever little rat-man - but now . . . well, now he was a myth, a legend in his own time. There were colleagues of his who'd give their right arm - yes, and more! -to join him out there. "Captain?" "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Do you think they think I'm stupid?" "Ma'am?"

"Those arseholes, your superiors."

He stared at her, horrified. "Madame Ward . . ." he said, trying to keep his voice as low as possible and yet be heard by her. "This is an open channel."

Her smile surprised him. "Good." She leaned in towards the panel, raising her voice. "Well, perhaps one of those jackasses will get permission for us to land before this ship runs out of air and they find themselves in real trouble!"

There was the background noise of voices from the speakers, then a head and shoulder shot of a middle-aged officer appeared on the screen above the panel, the square patch on the chest of his powder-blue uniform denoting that he was a Colonel, the bright red and white name-tag at his lapel giving his name - Bell.

"Madame Tolonen, I am ..."

She cut him off, as if he were the rawest recruit. "Colonel Bell, you will either give this craft permission to land or you will answer to your T'ang. Do you understand me?"

The tone of command in her voice was unmistakable. Without knowing he was doing so, Bell bowed his head, as if to his commanding officer. Even so, he continued to try to delay. "Forgive me, Madame Ward, but. . ." "NowT she barked.

Bell jerked, then lowered his head again. "Of course." He swallowed deeply, then looked to the Captain. "Captain Steen. You have permission to land at Bremen spaceport."

Steen let out a long sigh of relief, then busied himself punching in the landing coordinates, reading them from the screen. While he did so, Bell turned to look at Jelka once again.

"Forgive me, Madame Ward. No offence was meant. If s just that things are ... difficult right now."

"Difficult?"

He nodded, yet was clearly reluctant to say more. Indeed, it seemed, from the way the Captain had winced, that he had already said too much.

"Thank you, Colonel Bell," she said. "You have been most courteous."

She leaned across the Captain and cut connection, then, as an after-thought, reached over and switched off the open channel. She turned, looking at Steen thoughtfully.

"So tell me What's going on down there?"

"Ma'am?"

"Cut the shit. Why was the Colonel so nervous just then? What's been happening?"

The Captain swallowed, then, grimacing, shook his head. "I'm sorry, Madame Ward, but. . ."

She stared at him a moment longer, then, with a great huff of exasperation, swept past him, returning to her cabin where Mileja waited for her. It would be another hour before they were down.

Heng Yu jumped down from the sedan and, brushing aside the servant who made to wrap him in a cloak, hurried across the concourse toward the far door. Behind him, the welcoming committee of senior staff officers hesitated, then made to follow. The main spaceport building had been sealed, a pair of guards stationed at the entrance. Seeing the Chancellor, they stepped forward to challenge him, then, seeing the officers who followed in his wake, moved quickly aside.

"Chancellor Heng!" one of the officers, a Major, called after him. "We need to explain . . ."

Heng stopped and turned, angry now. "There's nothing to explain, is there? Or is there something I don't know about? Some factor which excuses your appalling behaviour?"

All five officers bowed their heads, chastised. Mollified by their contrition, Heng relented. "No matter," he said. "I shall be taking no disciplinary action. But you will treat Madame Ward with the utmost courtesy from here on. Or do you forget whose daughter she is?"

"No, Chancellor!" all five responded, bowing like some five-headed machine.

"Good. Now let us make the best of things, neh? Let us show our guest the respect she deserves."

Jelka was waiting in the great reception room, dressed in her outworlder suit. Mileja, similarly dressed, was sitting in a chair nearby. Servants stood about the walls uneasily as Jelka paced back and forth. As Heng Yu arrived, one could almost sense their relief. It had been like being in a cage with a tiger.

"Master Heng," she said, turning to greet him, a cold hardness in her face.

He bowed low, as if to his Mistress, the Empress. "Forgive me, Madame Ward. There has been a great misunderstanding. But the fault is mine entirely. The officers were acting upon my explicit instructions."

As Heng looked up again, he saw how surprised she was by that. Maybe she had expected him to pass the blame, or make some excuse. He smiled, the respect he felt for her nothing to do with her husband's power or wealth. No, it was as he had said to his officers, this was the Marshal's daughter. What had made Tolonen such a great man - such a pillar of the State -was manifest in his daughter. One had only to look at her to see that.

"No matter," she said, unconsciously echoing what he himself had said but a moment before. She turned, gesturing to her daughter, indicating that she should come across. "This, Master Heng, is my daughter, Mileja. Mileja, this is Heng Yu, the T'ang's First Minister."

Heng bowed elaborately, smiling at the seven-year-old. "I am honoured to meet you, Knut Tolonen's granddaughter. Was your journey pleasant?"

"All but the final bit..." Mileja began before Jelka tapped her shoulder. Glancing up at her mother, she fell silent.

"For that," Heng said, "you have my most abject apology. The blockade was meant to keep out our enemies, not to inconvenience our friends."

"Blockade?" It was the first she had heard of it and the idea clearly concerned her.

"I shall explain all," Heng said quickly, "but not here. My palace is close by. If you and your daughter would be my guests while you are here on Chung Kuo, I would be most honoured. I have had my servants prepare the west wing."

Jelka laughed. "To be frank with you, Master Heng, I am surprised by your offer. Pleased, naturally, but surprised. The situation is a difficult one, neh?"

Heng's smile was unforced. "Not so difficult that one forgets one's friends."

"Friends, Master Heng?"

"You and your husband have been good friends to my Master over the years. I, at least, remember that, even if he chooses not to."

There was a flicker of partial understanding in Jelka's eyes, but also puzzlement.

"Later," he said, pre-empting any further questions. "I am sure you would both welcome the chance to freshen up and rest, neh?"

Jelka smiled and nodded. "That would be most welcome, Master Heng." . "Then come. My sedan awaits us."

In the darkness of the room the hologram shone brightly.

"That's the old design," Kim said, moving the faintly glowing pointer to trace the perfectly spherical outline of the main ship. "Two disposable engines here and here," he indicated them with the tip of the pointer, "accelerate the ship. Then, when it gets near to its destination - and by that we still mean quite a considerable way out - what we call a light-parachute will open," on the hologram model, a fine umbrella of silk seemed to blossom from the sphere, "to gradually slow the ship down."

"And that's what you have built?" the stranger, Shen Li by name, asked from where he stood on the other side of the table, staring wide-eyed into the hologram.

"No," Kim answered. "That was only my starting point. Not that the New Hope wasn't designed well, it's just that I've made a few improvements."

There was a pause and then a new model appeared beside the first. It was slightly larger and the rockets on its underbelly were of a completely different design.

"The rockets on this one are, as you can see, much larger - to cope with the increased payload of the ship. They're also non-disposable, so that they can be turned through one hundred and eighty degrees and used to slow the ship down when we get to our destination. It's a simple little change, but it ought to cut t\3 journey time dramatically."