He found her there, sat in the corner, hunched over a screen. For a moment he simply stared at her, astonished by how calm she seemed. She was humming to herself as she tapped the keys. Humming, and smiling broadly.
"There!" she said, triumphantly. "That's another one!"
"Mistress?" Nan said, edging toward her, knowing how fiery she was when angered. "Mistress, are you all right?"
Her laugh chilled his blood. Tap tap tap and then a laugh.
"There! That'll serve the bastard right!"
He frowned. What on earth was she doing?
Slowly he moved round the desk and, moving quietly, tiptoeing the last few steps, he positioned himself behind her, so that he could see the screen.
"Ai-ya!" he groaned, seeing what it was. One by one she was accessing the files of those who were wired. One by one their names came up, their faces appeared on the screen, an access code flashed. One by one she keyed those access codes and pressed DETONATE.
She was blowing up the wired! She was trawling the files randomly and blowing the heads off innocent young men and women!
Without thinking he stepped up and pulled her back, physically tearing her away from the machine.
She screeched and turned on him, trying to scratch out his eyes, a wildcat suddenly, but he was too strong from her. Throwing her down, he yelled at her.
"Hsun Lung hsin! You must desist!"
But she wasn't about to desist. With a blood-curdling growl, Dragon Heart threw herself at him again, her nails ripping through his silks and tearing great lumps of flesh from his upper arms before he could throw her down again.
He drew his dagger.
"Hsun Lung hsin!"
But she was not listening. Her eyes were wild and mad and he knew that he would have to stop her. This time as she threw herself at him, he raised the knife.
Both her scream and the weight of her suddenly on his arm, surprised him, so that he let go of the blade and, staggering back, let her fall. Stumbling, he tripped and fell over the edge of the desk, cracking the back of his head against it.
He blacked out. When he woke, it was to find two guards staring down at him.
He tried to get up, but the guard's boot pressed him down again. "Stay there, you bastard," the man said, sneering at him. "Unless you'd like a taste of your own medicine."
Nan Fa-hsien shuddered, remembering. He had felt the blade go in, and in that last moment, as her eyes had met his, had known that she had thrown herself upon it.
In the heart. He had stabbed the Empress in the heart.
Nan closed his eyes and groaned. When he opened them again, it was to find himself looking up at Cheng Nai shan.
"Master Nan," Cheng said, smiling urbanely and giving a little mock bow of respect. "Had a little trouble, have we?"
Jelka stood at her father's graveside, her head bowed, as the wind blew across the giant stadium. Karr stood behind her, at attention, his eyes lowered, Mileja's tiny hand enveloped within his. Further off, armed guards patrolled the banked white stone terraces, stopping briefly to look on, conscious of the significance of the moment.
Jelka knelt and, bowing her head before the massive basalt headstone, placed her offerings on the white marble plaque.
Marshal Knut Tolonen, it read, the words cut deep into the marble, and beneath, under the Mandarin transcription of her father's name, the final lines of her homeland's great epic poem:
"But let this be as it may be, I have shown the way to singers, Showed the way, and left the markers, Cut the branches, shown the pathways. This way therefore leads the pathway, Here the course lies newly opened, Open for the greater singers, For the young, who now are growing, For the rising generation."
She shivered, reading those familiar words, then stood again, studying the life-size portrait of her father that was cut into the great slab of basalt facing her. Seeing it once more, she felt a lump come to her throat.
So you were, she thought, nodding to herself. Yes, even when he had been alive, he had been like stone; like the great arch upon which all else stood.
And now he stood there, frozen forever in this single image, staring out toward the east, his chin slightly raised, that great cliff of a face revealing the strength and resolution of a thousand men.
She stared and stared, the desire to reach out and touch his hand again - to have his fingers close on hers - so strong that it almost unhinged her. Absurd, she thought, feeling a single tear run down her cheek. Yet when she turned, it was to find Karr wiping his free hand across his face.
She smiled, then put out a hand, beckoning her daughter. Mileja came to her and, her hand in her mother's, knelt before her grandfather's tablet, placing her own small offering beside Jelka's.
"You must never forget him, Mileja," Jelka said quietly. "He was a great man. An oak among pines."
Mileja stared up at her mother momentarily, then looked back at the great headstone. "Is he inside there, Mama?" she asked.
Jelka was about to say no, about to explain, when Kan-stepped up beside her.
"He is everywhere here, Mileja," he said, kneeling beside the seven-year old. "This is his place, here, at the very centre of it all. Your mother speaks the truth. Your grandfather was a great man. Perhaps the greatest Chung Kuo has known. Why, Emperors would bow their heads to him."
Mileja stared back at Karr, wide-eyed, then turned her head to look at the great carving once more, seeing it anew. Then, with a seriousness that was no mimicry, she bowed low.
Karr looked across her at Jelka and smiled; a smile that seemed to encompass all she was feeling at that moment. She returned it, glad he was there; glad that he'd shared this moment with her. Then, knowing it was time, she turned back.
"Goodbye, father," she said quietly. "You will be with me wherever I go." She placed her hand to her heart. "In here."
Again she bowed. One final time she took in those granite features, that rock-like stance, then, closing her eyes, squeezing them tight against the tears that threatened, she slowly backed away.
Karr looked about him as they approached the shadowed entrance to the great tunnel that led beneath the terraces, signalling to his men, summoning them to him, relieved that it had all gone without incident, especially as they were drastically under strength today - a dozen of his best men having been assigned to collect his girls from their respective schools and colleges.
"Thank you," Jelka said as they went in under the arch, stopping a moment to press his hand.
"Not at all," he said, turning his attention to her for that moment. "I'm only glad I could be of service. If there's anything else?"
"No," she said. "You were right. We should get out at once. But won't you come with us, Gregor? You and Marie and the girls. Oh, and Hannah, too, of course. There's room. We'd make room."
Karr smiled. "I'm grateful. Truly I am. But there are things here I must do. Bad as things are, I can't just leave."
"I understand. But my offer remains open. Any time you wish to come, just come. Okay?"
Karr smiled, nodding his gratitude. "Okay." He turned, looking about him, then frowned. "Where's Mileja?"
"She's just over there, sir," one of his men called back, "she . . ."
Jelka turned and looked. As she did, an old woman stepped from one of the storerooms leading off the dimly-lit tunnel and hobbled up to Mileja, something held out to the little girl.
"Mileja!" Jelka shouted. "Nol"
But it was too late. The old woman had given Mileja the gift and was patting her wrist fondly.
"Shit!" Karr hissed, looking to the nearest of his men. "I thought you'd cleared this place, Eduard! Where did she come from?"
Eduard grimaced. "She must have been sleeping among the crates in there . . ."