The Wu lit tapers to the north and south, to east and west, rocking backward and forward all the time and mumbling to himself, as if in a state of trance. On the desk lay the folded piece of paper on which was written the question the First Dragon wished to ask the oracle. Shang glanced at it, then at his Master, surprised by the tension in the I Lung’s cheek and neck muscles. This was clearly important to him. “We are ready,” said the Wu. In his right hand he held the fifty yarrow stalks. “If you would read the question, Excellency.” The First Dragon leaned across and took the paper. Unfolding it, he cleared his throat, then read.
“As the darkness closes in, should we give torches to the masses, or should the thousand eyes burn brighter?”
The Wu was smiling. He leaned forward, letting the stalks trickle onto the table. Then, with a quick movement of his right hand, he divided them into two and then again, so that three groups of stalks lay on the table—the three lines of the first trigram. Satisfied, he gathered them up again and repeated the process.
Time and again he let the stalks fall gently from his hand, then divided them up. Time and again he stared at the resultant trigrams, as if fixing them in mind. Finally, he pushed them to one side and met the First Dragon’s eyes.
“The upper trigram is Ch’ien, Heaven, the lower is K’an, Water. The hexagram is Sung, Conflict.”
The First Dragon stared at him, almost in disbelief, then spoke, his voice a whisper. “Sung . . . Are you sure?”
The Wu nodded, then, taking up the great book, turned to the relevant page, and read.
“Conflict. You are sincere
And are being obstructed.
A cautious halt halfway brings good fortune.
Going through to the end brings misfortune.
It furthers one to see the great man.
It does not further one to cross the great water.” The First Dragon pulled at his beard, clearly agitated. “It is as I feared. When I first called you, Wu Hsia, I said to myself, if it is Sung then I shall know. It will be ‘Conflict.’ And yet does the oracle not say that such conflict cannot be engaged in successfully? Does it not say that, though our cause is right, though our minds are clear and strong, to carry our purpose through can bring only further ill?” He wrung his hands, pained by the answer he had received. “If it is Sung, then how can I act? How can I even take the first step when I know the abyss that lies before me?”
The Wu moved closer, the reassurance in his voice at odds with the fear in his eyes. “It does not have to be so, my Lord. As the oracle says, contention may be lucky when balanced and correct. Seek balance in your actions and all will be well.”
The First Dragon stared at the Wu a moment, then, with an irritable little gesture, waved him away. “Leave me now, Hsia. I must talk to my Junior Minister.”
“Excellency.”
Bowing, leaving his things where they lay, the Wu backed out of the room.
When he was gone, the First Dragon turned, facing Shang Mu again.
“Do you understand what is happening, Shang Mu?” Shang hesitated, then ventured an answer. “Has it to do with your meeting with Tsu Ma?”
“It is related.”
“Related, Excellency?”
“As the shadow to the sun. You see, Shang Mu, I expect nothing from my meeting with Tsu Ma. No concessions, no new funding, not even the courtesy of an explanation. And yet the meeting is essential. Without it nothing is clarified. Without it the oracle means nothing.” “I don’t understand you, Excellency. If Tsu Ma concedes nothing, then what will be clarified?”
“There is to be a new directive. A brand-new strategy to deal with the Seven Ills.”
Shang Mu frowned, puzzled by his Masters words. “But just now, in the great chamber, you said we would do as the Seven commanded. That we would carry out their policy, not determine our own.” The First Dragon smiled tightly. “That is true. But what was said out there was spoken for the Seven’s spies in our midst: it does not reflect the wishes of the Inner Council.”
Shang Mu’s eyes widened. “I see.”
“Good.” The First Dragon paused, then went around his desk and sat, drawing a black lacquered file toward him and opening it. “You must understand, Shang Mu. What is said in public and what is done privately must diverge from henceforth. It is unfortunate but necessary. We cannot simply sit back and let the Seven take us onto the rocks. We must take things into our own hands—we, now, must steer the great ship of State—for the good of all.” He looked up. “This is not disloyalty: you must be clear on that, Shang Mu. What will be done will be done not for personal gain, nor to extend the power of this Ministry, but for the long-term good of Chung Kuo.” He paused, his voice taking on a solemn air. “We have examined this at length and are agreed on it. The Mandate has been broken. We must act now or see the world we’ve built crack apart.” The Mandate has been broken . . . Shang Mu felt a wave of shock wash over him at the words. Yet wasn’t it so? Weren’t the Seven Ills evidence enough of the Seven’s failure to control events. No. The First Dragon was right. It was time to act, independently of the Seven if necessary. He had known it for some while, but it had taken the First Dragon’s words to make him realize it.
Shang Mu bowed low. “I will do whatever is asked of me, I Lung.” “Good. Then listen closely. The matter of funding is a pretext. It is a century or more since we depended on the Seven in that regard. But that is not to say that funding is unimportant. Over the next few months we must make strenuous efforts to obtain new funding. Arranging that will be part of your new task, Shang Mu.”
“But where will I find such funding, Excellency?” The First Dragon reached into a drawer beside him and took out a slender file, handing it across. “In there you will find a list of all those who, over the past few years, have shown, by word or deed, opposition to the Sevens actions. Normally we would have taken action—in concert with Security—to discredit or destroy such opposition, but it was decided, at a secret meeting some three years ago, to refrain from such action for a time in the case of those whose power or influence might, at some future date, prove useful.” He smiled. “That time is now. We must harness such opposition and direct it ... create an alliance of like-minded people to fight this debilitating sickness of liberalism.” He leaned toward his Junior Minister, his face suddenly stern, implacable. “Understand me well, Shang Mu. This is no time for half measures. We must grasp the nettle or go under. Security are no longer the force they were. They are corrupt and lazy, rotten to the core, their intelligence gathering poor, their generals weak and indolent. It is left to us alone to carry the torch, to keep alight the bright ideals of our forefathers. Too many compromises have been made. Too many deals. It is time to tear up all paper tigers, to purge the levels and enforce a rigid discipline on this great society of ours. The Seven will not do that. They lack the will. Only we can do it, Shang Mu. Only the Thousand Eyes.” Shang bowed his head, stirred by his Master’s words. “I understand, Excellency. I shall do all you ask of me and more. But what of the Seven? Surely they will expect us to react to their decision? And our agents—how are we to convince them of the necessity of the new directive?” The I Lung raised a gloved hand. “We have considered everything. As far as the Seven are concerned, we shall make great show of our outrage at their decision. I shall make much of contacting Ministers and other high officials of influence to press our case not merely for a return to old levels of funding and staffing but for an increased share of resources. To their eyes it will look as if I am fighting my corner hard, even to the point of resignation. Seeing that, their suspicions will be blunted. They will think they have dealt with me. But the real work of opposition will go on elsewhere, in secret, where their prying eyes cannot see. That is where you come in, Shang Mu. You and the internal network you have built so carefully these past thirty years.”