“There is risk however we act. Our task is to minimize that risk. But hear me further, Chieh Hsia. It is not enough, I feel, simply to win the people’s sympathies. Such winds of feeling are fickle and blow briefly. We must actively involve them in our venture.” “Involve them?” Tolonen frowned deeply. “I do not understand?”
“I mean an army, Chieh Hsia. We must recruit an army from the people.” “Impossible!” Tolonen said, offended, it seemed, by the suggestion. “You cannot turn that rabble into an army!”
“Forgive me, Knut, but you miss my point. Our purpose would not be to create an efficient fighting force overnight, but to channel all of the aggression which exists in the Lowers of our City. To focus it outward, rather than against ourselves.”
Tolonen grunted. “Even so—“
“No, Knut,” Li Yuan interrupted. “I like the sound of this. But there are problems, neh, Master Nan? Once such a force exists, who then controls it? And once—should we say if—the threat of Wang Sau-leyan is dealt with, where do we focus that aggression next?”
“Against Li Min. ...”
Li Yuan smiled. “Ah ...”
He turned and began climbing the broad sweep of marbled steps, Tolonen and Nan Ho hurrying to catch up with him.
“Well, Chieh Hsia?” Nan,Ho asked breathlessly as he reached the top. Li Yuan turned back, looking out past his Chancellor, his eyes taking in the damage that had been done to the Southern Lawn. “It is a big step, Master Nan. An irrevocable step, it seems to me. It would not do to rush into such a venture.”
“Time presses, Chieh Hsia.”
“I know,” he answered solemnly. “And yet I must be clear. When finally I act, it must be without doubts. I must know how I am to act and why.” He put a hand up to his chin. Then, abruptly it seemed, he laughed. “He almost did it! You realize that? The bastard almost pulled it off!” He turned, looking directly at his Chancellor. “Master Nan . . . contact Ben Shepherd. Tell him—tell him I need to talk.” Nan Ho bowed. “I spoke to him earlier, Chieh Hsia. He is on his way.”
Li Yuan smiled. “And the war, Master Nan? Do you know also how that ends?”
“The war, Chieh Hsia? No. Only that it must be.”
wang sau-leyan put out a fleshy hand, letting himself be helped up out of the great sunken bath, three of his maids half in the water as they strained to lift him. Nearby, a fourth looked on, a huge pile of golden towels in her arms.
As they steered him up the marble steps, there was an urgent knocking at the door.
“See who it is,” he said to one of the maids, waving her across. “But don’t let them in. Not until I’m ready.”
He sat heavily on the couch, spreading his legs, getting his breath back after the exertion, then looked down at himself. His flesh was almost pink from the heat of the water, fold upon fold of pinkness. He laughed, lifting his arms, letting the maids begin their task of drying him. “You like what you see?” he said to one of the maids, knowing, as ever, that she would lie to him. For who would tell the truth to a T’ang? Who would dare say, “I find you gross and loathsome”? Not one of these sweet young things, anyway.
“My Master glows like a newborn,” she answe’red, smiling up at him as if she loved him.
A good answer, he thought, for I feel newborn today. He smiled and patted her, then turned, looking across to the doorway where the maid was having a low but urgent conversation. “Who is it?” he called to her. And what do they want? he might have added, but he knew what they wanted. For the past three hours they had wanted nothing more than to talk to him.
“It is Chancellor Hung, Chieh Hsia. He says he wishes to speak with you.” Wang smiled, then turned back, closing his eyes, enjoying the gentle ministrations of his maids.
“Tell him I’ll come. In an-hour.”
He laughed softly, knowing how Hung Mien-lo would rage inwardly at that.
Maybe he’ll even call me names, or try to have me killed. .. again.
Transparent. . . they were all so transparent. “Oh, and tell him to meet me in the Great Hall,” he added, tilting his head back slightly. “And tell him to dress formally.”
“sit down, major rao. We need to talk.” Chen bowed, then sat, facing General Rheinhardt. The General paused, studying the report, then fixed Chen with a stare. His manner was cold, formal—a side of him Chen had guessed at but never seen. He cleared his throat, then launched in. “Now, let me say straight off that the last thing I needed just now was for one of my senior staff officers to go haywire in the Lowers. Apart from the effect it has on the reputation of the service, there’s the matter of maintaining discipline throughout the ranks. It’s a question of example. If the men see one of their senior officers acting irresponsibly, then they begin to ask themselves why they should act responsibly. And when that happens ...”
Rheinhardt shook his head slowly and sat back, looking at Chen as he might look at an errant child, with a mixture of sternness and regret. “You were never the ideal appointee, Kao Chen. Your service record was good, up to a point, but your social record left much to be desired. It’s not enough for an officer merely to do his duty, he has to fill a social role. It would have been better for you if you were more like ...” Rheinhardt fished for a name.
“Like Hans Ebert, perhaps, sir?”
Rheinhardt bristled. “There is no need to add impertinence to the list of your sins, Major Kao!” He visibly stiffened in his chair. “Now, to the matter at hand. The death of the Wu . . . Chang Te Li.” “I spit on his ancestors!”
Rheinhardt looked at Chen, astonished. “You what?” “He was a bastard, sir. An evil man who terrified those about him. I’ve no remorse for killing him. What he did to those children—“ Rheinhardt raised a hand. At once Chen fell silent, lowering his eyes. “It seems we have two choices,” Rheinhardt said after a moment. “I can either demote you to the rank of Captain, with the ensuing loss of face that such a step would bring, or you can choose to leave the service.” In answer Chen reached into his tunic pocket and took out a folded note, handing it across. Rheinhardt took it and read it. He nodded, as if satisfied, and was about to put it away in the file when a detail caught his attention.
“But this is dated the day before yesterday, Major Kao.”
Chen met his eyes. “I had already decided, sir.”
Rheinhardt stared at him a moment, his eyes narrowed. “And your decision?
Did it affect how you behaved down there?” Chen thought, then shrugged. “It may have, sir. I don’t know. But I’ve been unhappy in the service a long time now. As for the Wu, he was a confessed child murderer and I executed him. It wasn’t my job. I know that. But I’ll live with the consequences.” Rheinhardt nodded. “I won’t be a hypocrite, Kao Chen, and say I’ll miss you. You were never one to contribute much to briefings, and your paperwork . . . well, to say it was tardy was an understatement. Even so, I wish you the best. Have you thought about what you’ll be doing?” “I plan to take my family onto the Plantations, sir.”
“The Plantations?” Rheinhardt raised an eyebrow. “The gods help us ...
You’re sure about this?”
Chen nodded.
“You realize what has been happening?”
“I heard the reports on the way over. I understand the Plantations were relatively untouched.”
“That’s true. Though I’ve never fully understood why, when the rest of the City’s in total chaos, the Plantations remain calm. Perhaps it’s the kind of people they have there.”
Or the kind of life, Chen thought.
Rheinhardt took a long breath. “Well, Kao Chen. That’s it, it seems. I’ll have the official paperwork drawn up and send it through to you. You’ll keep your pension, though at a reduced level, and will be allowed to keep the honorary title of Captain. Otherwise . . . good luck.” Rheinhardt stood, offering his hand. Chen got to his feet, then leaned across the desk, returning the General’s firm handclasp. But the smile was formal, a gesture of the lips only. They had never really got on. “Thank you, sir,” Chen said, releasing his hand. He backed away two steps and came to attention, making a formal bow to a superior officer for the very last time. Then, turning about-face, he marched from the office.