“But why? I can’t see why.”
“Maybe because what I’m doing shows up the hollowness of all his posturing. And maybe because he blames me for what happened with you.” He closed his eyes. “Aiya!”
“It’s true, Michael. You just can’t see it, that’s all!” “Look, I know you’re angry, Em . . . and hurt. But you’re not thinking straight. You should calm down. Count to ten.” “No!” She pushed away from him, angry with him suddenly. “I could count to a million and this feeling wouldn’t go from me. They’ve got to be stopped, Michael, before they kill us all.”
“Em . . . Sweetheart...”
She put her hands up, fending off his attempt to embrace her again. “No, Michael. Listen to me. My anger . . . it’s the only thing I’ve got. I have to speak out. To say what hasn’t been said and show what hasn’t been shown. It’s my duty. Can’t you see that?” “Sure. I understand. But you have to step back. This once you just have to. Tomorrow. Do it tomorrow, once you’ve had time to think things through a little more coolly. Right now . . . well, right now is not the time. Security have promised results—and fast. So let them announce the findings of their investigation. Then speak up. I’ll back you. You know I will. But don’t fly at it like this. It’ll only rebound on you. And I’d hate to see that.”
She stared at him, slowly calming, then gave a tiny nod. “Good,” he said, reaching out and holding her to him again. “Now come through to the living room. I think we could both do with a good stiff drink.”
nan ho sat back, locking his fingers together, and let out a long breath. Tsu Ma’s Chancellor, Yang T’ing-hsi, had just been on with the latest news from his spies in Wang Sau-leyan’s household in Alexandria. They had found the renegades! An Sheng, the I Lung, and a number of other prominent conspirators were there, guests, it was presumed, of the odious T’ang of Africa.
It did not surprise him. In fact he had half expected to find Wang’s fat handprint at the back of all. Yet it did create a problem, and not a small one either. If Wang Sau-leyan were the sponsor of this rebellion, then he would have to be deposed. Yet that might prove a lot more difficult than it first seemed.
He was not well liked, either by his subjects or his peers, and yet he was a T’ang, a Son of Heaven, and they would need proof positive before they could accuse him publicly. If he denied sheltering the traitors, they would have, perhaps, to take them from him forcibly. And that would be no easy task. No. For once knowing was not enough. They had to force his hand somehow ... or fight him.
Nan Ho stood, then made his way through to where Li Yuan, he knew, was exercising.
As the Captain of the Guard announced him, he waited, rehearsing phrases in his head. Yet when Li Yuan came out, toweling himself down, the first thing he said was “Have you found them, Master Nan?” “We have, Chieh Hsia.”
“In Africa?”
He nodded.
“Which of them?”
He gave eleven names, An Sheng’s last, and saw how, despite himself, Li Yuan was surprised by how high the conspiracy had reached. The young T’ang considered a moment, then nodded.
“And Tsu Ma? What does he say?”
“He wishes to consult with you, Chieh Hsia.” “Of course . . .” He turned, throwing the towel to one of the bare-chested servants who stood, head bowed, just beyond him, then put his arms out as another brought a tunic and fastened it about him. “What do you think, Master Nan? Have we enough to challenge our cousin?” Nan Ho grimaced. “I... do not think so, Chieh Hsia. Not publicly.” “No. But privately . . .” He smiled, glad, it seemed, to have something positive to do. “All right. I shall consult Tsu Ma and Wu Shih and see what they have to say. Then I shall speak with our cousin, the T’ang of Africa, and find out just what he has to say for himself.”
“major kao . . . chen . . . I wasn’t expecting you.” Hannah stood in the doorway to her suite of rooms, a work smock about her waist. Her hair was tied back, her face and hands smeared with ash. Behind her two servants glanced up from their tasks, then carried on. “I had to come to find out how you were.” There was a momentary tightness in her face, and then she smiled. “I’m bearing up. You know what they say. Work hard enough and you can forget anything.”
He sighed. “You should be easier on yourself, Hannah. That shoulder—you should be resting it. Besides, your father . . .” She looked back at him, clear-eyed. “I shall grieve for my father when I’m ready. Right now”—she shrugged—“well, I guess I’m just not ready yet.” “You’re staying here, then . . . even after what happened?” She nodded. “This is my home. At least, the nearest to a real home I’ll ever have. What happened . . . well, it happened, neh? I can’t change that, and I sure as hell won’t run away from it. So yes . . . I’ll stay here. I’ll make some changes, of course. My stepmother’s rooms ...” She looked down again, swallowing. Chen, watching her, understood. So much had happened that she still couldn’t take it all in. All of her family were dead—all, that was, except her stepsister, and she was like a stranger to her. There was nowhere, really, for her to go. Yet to continue living here, alone ... it seemed wrong somehow. “Why don’t you come and live with us? Wang Ti wouldn’t mind— we’ve room, and ...”
She smiled. “Look, I’m grateful, Kao Chen. It’s a nice thought, and you’re a good man, but. . . well, I have to stay here.” “But it’s so big. All these rooms. Won’t you be lonely?” “No, I—“ She stopped, as if remembering something, then disappeared through the door. A moment later she returned, holding a silk-paper envelope carefully between the forefinger and thumb of her left hand. Chen took it from her, noting the broken imperial seal on the back of it, and took out the letter.
It was an Edict, a special Edict granting a pardon to her father. He looked back at her, grinning, delighted for her, then handed it back. She slipped it into the pocket of her smock. “I’ve been thinking, Chen. Trying to to fit everything into place. My father spent his life in the service of an ideal. A foul ideal, admittedly, but . . . well, I understand why he did it. To have some kind of direction, some kind of focus for your life—we all need that, don’t we? So I’ve decided that I’ll use my life. Focus it. You know, like that woman in the news—the rich woman, Mary Lever.” Her face was wistful now, her eyes suddenly distant. “I want to be what my father ought to have been.” He nodded. “I see that. But you’re still only sixteen. It’ll be nine years before you come of age. What will happen to you?” She laughed. “It seems I’m to be made an Imperial Ward. Someone will be appointed. Tolonen, perhaps, or, more likely, General Rhein-hardt. They’ll make all the big decisions on my behalf. But that doesn’t matter. It isn’t really that important. What is important is that I hold on to what I’ve learned and put it to good use.”
He frowned, not quite understanding what she meant. Yet there was a determination about her that impressed him—that had impressed him from the start.
“And you?”
Her question took him by surprise. “I’ve some unfinished business. Wilson ... all that was a shock to me. To find that the man closest to you is in the Ministry’s pay.”
“But not the only one, neh? It seems Security was riddled with the I Lung’s men.”
“Yes . . .”
“Oh,” she added, lowering her voice. “By the way. The T’ang’s special forces—his Shen T’se—came and searched the apartment while I was still in the hospital. It was a thorough job, so the servants say. They took anything they thought might prove incriminating against the First Dragon, including my Magic Theater.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And the File?” The word Aristotle had been on the tip of his tongue, but it remained unspoken. “They took that too. Later on one of them—a Captain—came and questioned me about it.”