My brothers—“
He stopped, noting the sobriety of Yu’s manner.
“Master Yu? What is it?”
Yu, who had kept his head bowed, looked up, his eyes fearful, a distinct color at his neck. “Master . . . forgive me. A message came. . . .” “I know.” He patted his jacket pocket. “I already have it.”
“No, Master. A special message. On the screen in your study.”
“Ah . . . ?” He frowned. “And you answered it?” Master Yu bowed low. “I was passing, Master, and you were busy here. I only glanced in at the door, meaning to come and bring you. But. . . well, a face was on the screen already. It saw me and spoke to me. A soldier, it was. A young lieutenant.”
The I Lung felt himself go cold. Behind him his brothers had fallen silent and were listening.
“What did he say?”
Yu swallowed, then went on. “He said that he had only a few moments. That there was no time for me to run and fetch you. He told me”—Yu hesitated, looking about him, but the First Dragon motioned for him to carry on—“he said to tell you that the assassins are dead. And your sister, Chih Huang Hui. And that Shang Mu is loose.”
The I Lung sat back, feeling all of his former pleasure drain from him, replaced by ice.
Earlier, he had had the oracle read. Ko, it had been. Fire in the Lake. Confirmation, he’d thought, of his ambitions. He had sat there, on the sunlit terrace of his palace, thrilled by the Wit’s judgment:
Revolution. On your own day you are believed. Supreme success, furthering through perseverance. Remorse disappears. He shivered. Remorse disappears. . . .
He stood, looking about him at his brothers. They were watching him, waiting to see what he would decide. He waved Yu away, then walked across to the great window at the far end of the room and stood there, staring out blindly, a great wave of despair washing over him. It was too early, far too early. If they struck now it might prove disastrous. Yet what choice had they? If Shang Mu were loose . . . “Brother?”
He turned. His Second Brother stood there, only a pace or so away. Beyond him his Fifth and Eighth Brothers waited silently. “Okay,” he said, his mind made up. “It goes ahead.”
“Tonight?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Shang Mu,” he said. “We’ve got to get Shang Mu.”
“And afterward?”
“The Seven,” he said, meeting his brothers’ eyes and seeing the shadow of his own doubt mirrored back at him. “We must kill the Seven.”
“what do you think?”
Chen stared down through the darkness at the floodlit bulk of Bremen Fortress, then looked back at the young pilot. “If they were going to shoot us out of the air, they’d have done it by now. No. If there’s any trickery, it’ll be when we’re on the ground.” He turned, looking back at Hannah and her father. “When we land, sit tight. I’ll go out alone. If there’s any trouble, the lieutenant here will fly you out just as fast as he can.” Shang Mu looked back at him, concerned. “You think there’ll be trouble?” “I hope not. But who knows? This whole situation’s something new. It depends on how high the conspiracy goes within Security. Rhein-hardt, I’d vouch, is honest and staunchly loyal to Li Yuan. But who knows about those surrounding him? We’re just going to have to take the risk.” He turned back, then nudged the young lieutenant. “There,” he said, pointing to the far edge of the great Western Pad. “Set us down in that big clear space. I don’t want anyone sneaking up on us, okay?” “Sir!”
He swung the craft to the left, then brought it down, on the far edge, where Chen had indicated.
Chen climbed down, then looked about him. It had been raining, and the grooved surface of the Pad was wet and slippery. Behind him, less than twenty ch’i from where he stood, was a drop of almost two li. In front of him, more than two hundred ch’i away, was the stubby control tower for the Western pad and, beyond it, rising into the predawn darkness, was the slender communications spire of Bremen Fortress. Lamps embedded at the edge of the Pad, and at regular points within its floor, threw up broad columns of light. Between them were great patches of darkness. Chen smiled and began to walk toward the control tower, conscious of movement over there beneath the observation balcony.
It was like walking in a great hall, the light forming the pillars, the sky the ceiling. Normally he kept to the darkness, loath to breach those tall columns, but this once he made directly for the tower, his dark form cutting through the brilliant light, flashing and flickering, it seemed, until he was no more than twenty ch’i from the tower. There he stopped, facing the small group of men. Light from the windows of the tower created a pattern on the ground in front of him, but they were beyond that, in the shadows. Chen squinted, trying to make out who was there. “Major Kao?”
Rheinhardt stepped from the shadows, into the light from above.
“General...”
“Where’s Shang Mu? I thought—“
“Who’s with you?”
He saw how Rheinhardt stared at him, surprised by the lack of deference in his tone. The General hesitated, not sure how to handle the situation, then shrugged and answered him. “Okay. I’ve brought three of my men. Bodyguards. Men I trust. The other two are yours. Lieutenant Wilson and your sergeant.”
Chen looked beyond the General. “Send the sergeant away.” Rheinhardt turned, made a gesture with his hand. At once one of the men turned and was gone.
Rheinhardt turned back. “So? Shall we get on with this?”
“You understand? What happened back there ...”
“I understand. Guild, neh?”
Chen nodded. Then, turning, he put up a hand, waving back to the craft. A moment later two figures stepped down and began to make their way across. He turned back. Rheinhardt was watching him intently.
“What is it?” Chen asked.
“This...” Rheinhardt hesitated. “What you’re talking about, it’s ...”
“Unbelievable?”
Rheinhardt nodded.
Chen turned, watching the two figures approach them through the darkness, a strange tension rooted in his stomach.
As Shang Mu came up beside him, Rheinhardt moved closer, until he was less than a body’s length away.
“Junior Minister...”
Chen tensed, watching him hawkishly his hand covering his gun. But Rheinhardt seemed unarmed.
“General...”
The two men bowed, then faced each other silently. Beside him Hannah reached out and touched Chen’s arm. He glanced at her and smiled. “Well. . .” Rheinhardt said, after a moment. “I understand you’ve something to tell us. Major Kao tells me that—“ He broke off. Chen had moved—had walked across behind him, his gun drawn. “Major Kao?”
Rheinhardt turned and saw at once. One of the four men had moved—was walking slowly to the right, circling outward. Chen moved across, keeping himself between the man and Shang Mu. As the man moved through a patch of light they saw who it was. Chen hesitated, his gun wavering. “Wilson? What’s up? What the hell’s going on?”
Rheinhardt turned and yelled. “Get down, Shang Mu! Get down. . . .” There was a shot, a second shot. Wilson was running now, heading directly for Shang Mu, and as he ran he fired.
Chen knelt, his gun aimed, and fired. Once, twice, a third time, his bullets hit the running man full in the chest, jolting him backward and finally felling him. Wilson rolled and then lay still, his gun rattling away from him.
Chen turned, then stared, aghast. Shang Mu was down, groaning, both hands clutching his stomach.