The Marriage of the Living Dark

They had not ruled wisely, and this was the result

Four months now he’d been travelling, starting in the northern capital, Boston, and progressing down through the great cities of Providence, Bridgeport, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington, before moving on to the new enclaves of Charleston, Cincinnati and Louisville. From there he’d had taken the monorail south to the garrison at Nashville and on to the great urban sprawls of Birmingham, Memphis and Little Rock, finally arriving in the southern capital of Dallas three weeks back. Now he was heading south-west across the great desert of central Texas to the fortress-city of San Angelo.It was all his son-in-law Egan’s idea: to get “the old man”, as he called him, out from under his feet by organising a tour. “It’s time you saw something of this land,” Egan had said, as if seeing it would somehow satisfy, or at least abate, the dormant urge in Li Yuan to meddle in events.

Not that I really blame him, Li Yuan thought, stirring restlessly on his pallet After aB., he has a great deal on his mind, trying to fight wars on three separate fronts while satisfying att the various factions in his own camp. Yes, he knew how that felt to face enemies wherever one turned. He even felt sorry for his son-in-law, up to a point. But beyond that? Li Yuan huffed with exasperation. Why wouldn’t the boy listen just for once? Why did he insist on hearing only those who sang his own tune? Couldn’t he see what was going on?

“Master?”

The soft voice of his servant, Chang, came from beside the bed. “It is all right, Chang,” he said quietly, loathe to wake Fei Yen, lest she begin with her whining and moaning. “I was merely thinking ...” Chang gave a small nod, then settled again, sleeping where he always slept, on the floor beside his Master’s pallet, his legs tucked under him, like a folded marionette.

Li Yuan let out another sigh. It was the fate of all once-great men, to be taken from place to place and fed and watered like old horses that have been put out to pasture. Yet he was not old. Far from it. He could still have contributed a great deal. After all, who in the entire world had more experience of governing than he? But young Egan would not hear of it. He thought he knew it all, that boy. As if he had invented history!

His arrogance will be his downfall. And when he falls ... Li Yuan shivered, then rolled over, onto his side, trying to push the thought aside. For himself he did not fear death, but there were his sons, his grandchildren to think of. If they were to have a future, something needed to be done, before Egan pissed it all away.You must come up with apian, Li Yuan. You must find a way to make him listen.

But that was easier contemplated than attained. Even his sons had been shut out these past few months. Court life had made young Egan suspicious, even, perhaps, slightly paranoid. He listened now to no one but those who had been with him the longest - the old men from his Advisory Council, mainly, and a small coterie of six or eight young men who had been to the Academy with him. Sons, as they called themselves. Men who would as soon cut the throat of a Han as listen to one.

Even so, there had to be a way to make Egan listen. If not... If not, the great chain vM be broken, and the graves of our ancestors toft remain unswept.

He understood now. It was not the loss of a world that mattered - of the power or the territory - it was that loss of continuity, of peaceful succession, father to son, that was so vital. He knew now that they had been right, those grand old men - those T’ang - who had once ruled this world. One had to hold tight to the reins of government, or chaos followed. Yes, and now they lived in Chaos, like worms burrowing blindly in a rotten apple.

America. Li Yuan sighed, then closed his eyes again, letting the smooth motion

of the monorail soothe him as they sped south-west toward San Angelo and the

border. I would as soon be in hett as in Americal

“Horton? You’ve a visitor.”

Feng Horton, better known to his friends as “Meltdown”, placed the weight back on the rests just behind and above his head, then sat up, reaching for a towel to wipe himself down. The gym was almost empty. Only Horton and his bodyguards were there. And Russ, of course. It was Russ who had brought the message. “A visitor?” Horton asked, towelling himself down, conscious of Russ’s eyes on his half-naked torso. “Who the fuck would want to see me this time of the day?” “Guess,” Russ said, his eyes never leaving Horton. “Don’t play fucking games,” Morton said, pushing roughly past Russ, not caring if the little man fell or not. “I ain’t got time for fucking games.” “If s Harding,” Russ said, turning, rubbing at his arm where Horton’s hand had made contact.

Horton stopped dead, then turned, his eyes half-hooded. “You’re kidding me.

Harding? Here?”

Russ nodded. “Says he wants to talk. Private. Just you and him.” Horton took four clear breaths, thinking about it Russ counted them, watching that hugely-muscled chest rise and fall and imagining the big man in bed with him.

“Okay,” he said finally. “But no tricks. And search the fucker, right? In fact, scan the fucker. If this is one of Egan’s scams...” “He’s clean,” Russ said, following Horton as he went through toward the shower.

“I frisked him myself.”

“I’m sure you did,” Horton said, sliding the changing-room door across before Russ could follow him inside.

Russ turned, looking about him at the bodyguards; smiling at them, amused that they didn’t return his smiles. At least two of them were gay. He knew that for a fact But they wouldn’t dare admit it openly, as if it might somehow demean them. And Horton? Russ didn’t know. Not yet But it would be fun finding out. And in the meantime there was this business with Harding. Now what the fuck could Harding want from Horton?

Whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t a courtesy call. Something was going on.

Something big.

Russ turned back, listening to the sound of the shower running inside the changing-room and imagining the sight of Horton stood there, proud and naked beneath it If I play things right, maybe I’ll get to stand there with him one of these days.

Russ smiled and surreptitiously slid his hand down over his swollen manhood, giving himself a gentle squeeze. Now there’s a thought.

BLOOD AND IRON

There was a soft rapping at the doorway to the carriage. Li Yuan sat up, then gestured to Chang who waited, head bowed and on his knees, beside the bed.

“Go to the door, Chang. See who it is.”

At once the servant did as he was bid. There was the creak of the door, a hurried exchange of whispers, then Chang returned. “It is the young Captain, Qneh Hsia. He says we are approaching the city of San Angelo. He wonders if you would like to join him in the viewing gallery. He says it is a sight not to be missed.”

“Ah...” Li Yuan stood and stretched. He had known even before Chang went to the door who it was and what they wanted, but it was easier not to let on than to try to explain things to the dark-eyed Chang. “Tell him I’ll come,” he said, walking across and taking a gold-handled brush from the side. “And tell him to wait. I’ll only be a minute or two.”

He turned, facing the mirror.

“Shall I summon your maid, Chieh Hsia?” Chang asked, hovering in the background, his back bent like an old man, his head bobbing up and down as he spoke “No,” Li Yuan said, an air of tiredness in his voice. “I have little enough hair to brush these days and it would be a shame to wake her. Let her sleep. I shall have need of her later.”

Chang bowed, understanding, then hurried back and pulled the door open once again. There was more low whispering and then the sharp click of heels as the captain came to attention.

Li Yuan drew the brush across his thin, prematurely grey hair, conscious of how narrow his face seemed, how his golden eyes seemed to shine inhumanly in the olive flesh of his face. Now fifty, he had worn a beard these past five years and but for those eyes might have closely resembled the head-and-shoulders portrait of his great-grandfather that had once hung in the Great Hall at Tongjiang.

All gone, he thought wistfully. All of those wonderful, powerful images. And when I die, my memories of them will also die.”Chieh Hsia,” Chang said, stepping to the side to give Li Yuan a clear view of the young captain standing there waiting for him.

“Ah ... Captain Zelic. I must have slept longer than I thought.” “Not at all, Chay Sha,” Zelic answered with his faint drawl. “We made up a lot of time. They opened the Abilene Crossing specially for us.” “I see,” Li Yuan said, amused by the man’s attempts to pronounce his language. Still, at least he did try. There had been one escort who had insisted on calling him plain “Mister Li”.

“And what is on the itinerary for tonight, Captain?”

“A banquet, Chay Sha,” Zelic answered, bowing his head respectfully.

“A banquet Of course.”

Yes, and more inedible Hung Mao food, he thought. Never any attempt to prepare something Han. Barbarians they were, even his son-in-law, though without Egan they would have been nothing in this land. Simply a few more Chinks. And everyone knew what had happened to the “Chinks” after the collapse. They had been eradicated, down to the last man, woman and child. To purify the land. And so the Great Wheel turns.

Li Yuan sighed, then went out past Zelic, pleased by the young Captain’s show of respect Though young, he was a fine soldier and ran his elite squad of thirty men like an old hand.

“You would have made a good Han, Captain Zelic,” he said, liking the young man.

“I beg pardon, Chay Sha?”

“Oh, nothing. Let us go. I am curious to see this city of yours.” That much, at least, was true; for San Angelo was a fortress city - one of nine that spanned the thousand mile frontier with old Mexico - and he had heard much about them these past few years. Up until ten years ago there had been nothing here. Nothing, that was, but desert and bleached bones. And so it would be once more unless the war with the eighteen states of the Southern Alliance was won. Not that heBLOOD AND IRON had any doubt that it would be won. It was merely a matter of time. Unless, of course, those other wars - with California, and its ally Oregon, and with DeVore in Europe - bled America dry first He followed Zelic along a narrow corridor. Like the other three carriages that comprised his mobile “Court”, it had been decorated in the Han style and smelled of incense. Past that, they came out into the part of the train that was not reserved for his entourage. The blinds were up and all was gleaming bright and thoroughly high-tech, the surfaces of shining polished steel and moulded plastics in a style reminiscent of an earlier age when the great American Empire - the 69 States as it had been known - had policed an ailing world. He winced as his eyes adjusted to the late afternoon sunlight pouring in through the windows, then gazed about him at these signs of the new technological age. And stiH the lesson isn’t learned, he thought wryly. Or were empires themselves a necessity? A gathering-in of the human masses in a single moment of conformity before new growth, new dispersion? He smiled. Once he would have been unable to answer that, but now that his own empire had fallen, he had begun to see things with a clearer eye.

Guards snapped to attention as they passed through into a second carriage then mounted the set of twisting steps that led up into the great blister of the viewing gallery.

Here all was pure light and space. It was like being inside a giant lens, travelling fast above the ochre landscape. In the distance strange rock formations thrust up out of the desert floor, as if they were on Mars and not Chung Kuo.

Earth, he reminded himself. They call it Earth these days. Yes, and how strange that was, to name a planet after its most common aspect Like calling a country Rain because it was wet and miserable.

He walked over to the front edge of the oval blister and rested a hand against the thick plastic wall. The sun was low and to his right, a great flattened ball of gold. Like an eye, he thought And there, some ten or twenty li distant, was whatlooked like a great glass bowl, upended on the earth, a cluster of needle-fine glass pinnacles jutting up from it. The stanchions of the monorail - each one like a huge version of the pictogram, Jen, meaning “man” - swept in a great arc toward that glimmering, distant sight, while the rail itself was a thick, dark brush-stroke bisecting the landscape horizontally. “Is that it?” he asked, sensing the young Captain just behind him. “Thafs it, Chay Sha. Fortress San Angelo. Population four hundred and fifty eight thousand, including the garrison.”

“Impressive,” Li Yuan said, watching it slowly grow as the seconds passed. “But what do they do for water?”

“There’s a massive lake on the other side of it and a huge desalination plant.”

“And food?”

Zelic laughed softly. “Thafs the beauty of it Ifs all self-contained.” Li Yuan turned, looking to him. “Self-contained?” “You’ll see, Chay Sha. But look ...” he pointed out to either side of the city itself. “You see those things that look like studs coming out of the ground?” Li Yuan turned, narrowing his eyes, then nodded. “Ah, yes. Now what are those?” “Guard towers. Every half-mile. They stretch from Odessa in the west to San Antonio in the south-east” “I see. And they’re meant to keep your friends from the Southern Alliance out, neh?” “Thafs right, Chay Sha ...”

“In case they steal some of the sand you seem to have so much of, I presume.” Zelic laughed. “There are plans, Chay Sha. Once funds are available, all of these lands will be opened up again for farming. Until then...” “Until then you put up guard towers to protect the sand from your neighbours, right?” “It is not quite so simple, Chay Sha.” “No,” Li Yuan said, relenting, deciding to bait the young man no more. “Nothing ever is.”