She could hear Chen outside, arguing with the Security Captain. “Pull rank,” she’d told him, but this once, it seemed, he couldn’t. There were procedures for an incident like this.
She shuddered, remembering how Chen had stood there, listening to her as she spilled the whole incredible story. Treason. A plot involving the whole upper echelon of the Ministry and Minor-Family princes too. It was hard to believe. Yet Chen had simply nodded, as if he’d known it all from the start. And then Security had arrived and there’d been no time to discuss it any further.
She looked across and felt a twinge of sorrow. Her father was sitting there on the far side of the room, his hands resting lightly on his knees, like a lost child, his eyes staring into the far distance. He had lost a great deal this night. A wife, a son, a purpose for his life. Tomorrow he would have to start again. If that were possible. If any of them lived to see the dawn.
Chen returned, coming directly across to her. He smiled, then looked to the medic. “Forgive me. Could I have a word with the young lady?” The man smiled. “I’m done here, anyway,” he said, then bowed and backed away.
“Well?” she said quietly.
“We can go, if you’re ready. I’ve contacted my duty captain, Wilson, and he’s going to get a message through to General Rheinhardt. I’ve said I’d meet him on the West Pad at Bremen in an hour. If we can convince Rheinhardt we can get to Nan Ho.”
She frowned. “What about your friend . . . you know, Major Karr?” Chen shook his head. “Karr’s on a special assignment down-level. It’s been months since I’ve heard from him. If I knew where he was, I’d be the first to be in touch with him. You realize who they were, Hannah? They were Guild. Trained assassins. The best!”
She shivered. “If they were demons from Hell, I’d not give in. You know that. . . .”
He touched her good arm briefly. “I know. Now get your father ready. I want Rheinhardt to hear it from the horse’s mouth.” She frowned at him. “Horses, Kao Chen?”
He laughed “An old expression. . . . Now hurry. The Guild’s pride will have been wounded. There’s two of their number dead out there and they’ll be wanting vengeance for it. Besides which, there are Dragons to fight, neh?”
Hannah laughed, then grew more sober. “Are you not afraid, Kao Chen?” “Afraid?” He leaned closer, speaking to her ear. “To be honest with you, Shang Han-A, I’m petrified.”
Fei YEN STOOD in the comer of the room, beside the hanging cages, looking in at the molting birds as the Wu finished casting the oracle. Master Fung had taken much longer than usual, going over his results once and then once again, frowning all the while. Finally he looked up, his face troubled. “It is Ko,” he said, “Fire in the Lake.” Yin Tsu caught his breath. “You are sure, Master Fung?”
The Wu nodded. “There is nine in the fifth place. The two primary trigrams are in opposition. The younger daughter dominates the elder. Fire in the Water.” His voice quailed with fear. “It is Revolution, Prince Yin. Revolution!”
. Yin Tsu shook his head, but his eyes were wide with fear. He looked across, meeting Fei Yen’s eyes, then looked down. “Aiya . . .” he said softly. “Kuan Yin preserve us!”
She came across and stood before the Wu. “Tell us more, Master Fung. Is it... inevitable?”
“Inevitable?” He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “No . . . not inevitable. Yet the signs are clear.” He put out his wizened hand, indicating the spill of fallen stalks. “I have never seen it so clear. Here Fire, there Water . . . the two in conflict, each trying to destroy the other. If the Man should come—“ “The Man?” Yin Tsu started forward. “What do you mean, Master Fung?” Fung looked down. “The time is ripe, Prince Yin. The hour but awaits the Man. It is as the oracle says. The Great Man changes like a tiger. . . .” “And if the Great Man is a Dragon?”
The Wu looked up, staring at her. “A dragon?” “No matter . . .” She turned, facing her father. “Well? Will you go to him now?”
Yin Tsu hesitated, then shook his head. “It is not that simple, Fei Yen. I—I must talk first with my cousins. An Sheng must know. His son . . .” He looked down, then, “Leave us a moment, Master Fung.” When the Wu had gone, he looked back at her. At that moment he seemed every one of his eighty-two years.
“It is easy for you, Fei Yen. You have a duty to your son. But I... well, I have three sons and a grandchild. And An Sheng . . . No, it would not be right to act without first speaking with An Sheng.” For a moment he stared into the air, then he shuddered, his voice suddenly pained. “Chan . . . how could he be so foolish? How?” She went across and held him close, trying to comfort him. “Maybe we could claim that he was led . . . seduced by An Hsi. Perhaps—“ “No,” said her father, pushing her back slightly. “Yin Chan is not a child. If he was led, it was because he wanted to be led.” He sighed heavily. “No, my love, Chan is lost to us. It must be—it must be as if he never was. I...”
His mouth quivered, his whole face threatening to break apart. For a moment he turned his head aside, struggling to control himself, then he looked back at her.
“I will go now and see An Sheng. He must be told at once what happened here. And then we shall go, together, to see Li Yuan. Today, before any more damage can be done.”
“And Chan? What will come of my brother?” The old man shook his head, a sudden frailty in his voice. “Yin Chan is nothing now. Nothing ...”
the first dragon laughed delightedly nodding toward the three men—his brothers—who sat with him, then turned in his seat, clapping his hands. At once a servant ran to him and knelt at his feet. “Master?”
“Bring more wine. The very best. Tell Master Yu—“
He stopped, his attention caught by the man waiting in the doorway, his head bowed, the sash of a Ministry Messenger about his shoulders. Dismissing the servant he beckoned the man across. Taking the black silk envelope from him he opened it impatiently. Was this it? Was this what he’d been waiting for these past three days? He read the handwritten note, then folded it again, smiling.
“Is there an answer, Master?”
He shook his head, then tucked the envelope into the inner pocket of his cloak. “No. No answer.”
Turning back he felt a small thrill pass through him. If one dealt with eels, it was always best to hook them through the gills. And this—this pledge from An Sheng—this would be the hook by which he held him to the task.
“Good news, I Lung?” his Second Brother asked, raising his wine cup slightly, his eyes inquisitive.
“Business,” he answered noncommittally “Our work is unending, neh?” his Fifth Brother, seated to his right, chipped in. “Our eyes never close.” There was laughter. In the midst of it more wine arrived. “Shall we have music?” he asked, looking about him, seeing his own good humor reflected in every eye.
“A splendid idea,” his Second Brother answered, leaning forward to let a servant fill his cup once more. “Is that excellent ch’in player still with you, brother?”
He laughed. “She is. But I’m tempted to think it was not her playing that interested you so much as her other talents.” “I hear she was very good on the jade flute,” Fifth Brother added, winking, “though her plucking ...”
“Brother?”
“Plucking, I said . . . her finger work ...”
Second Brother sat forward slightly, enjoying the game. “Her finger work?
What of it?”
“Oh, nothing . . . only that she could coax a tune from the tiredest old instrument!”
There was a great roar at that. The I Lung turned, laughing, and summoned his Master of Ceremonies. “Master Yu . . . I wondered where you’d got to.