As he would need to. For he would know that whoever killed a T'ang might kill again.
No. Would kill again.
"Captain Fischer . . ."
He turned. It was Wang Ta-hung. Fischer bowed low, wondering at the same time where Hung Mien-lo had got to.
"Yes, Chieh Hsia?"
"Have you found them yet?"
He hesitated. It had been almost thirty minutes since they had begun searching for Sun's two assistants and still there was no trace of them.
"No, Chieh Hsia. I'm afraid—"
He stopped, astonished. A man had appeared in the doorway at Wang Ta-hung's back, his hair untidy, his clothing torn. In his hand he held a bloodied knife.
"Wang Sau-leyan!"
Ta-hung spun around and cried out, then took two faltering steps backward, as if he feared an attack. But Wang Sau-leyan merely laughed and threw the knife down.
"The bastards were hiding in my rooms. One cut me here." He pulled down his pau at the neck, revealing a thin line of red. "I stuck him for that. The other tried to take my knife from me, but he knew better after a while."
"Gods!" said Fischer, starting forward. "Where are they?"
Wang Sau-leyan straightened up, touching the wound gingerly. "Where I left them. I don't think they'll be going far."
Fischer turned and looked across at the doctors. "Quick, now! Come with me, ch'un tzu! I must save those men."
Wang Sau-leyan laughed and shook his head. He was staring at his brother strangely. "Do what you must, Captain. You'll find them where I left them."
Fischer turned, facing the new T'ang. "Chieh Hsia, will you come?"
Wang Ta-hung swallowed, then nodded. "Of course."
They met Hung Mien-lo in the corridor outside.
"You've found them, then?"
Fischer bowed, then glanced at Wang Sau-leyan. "The Prince found them, in his quarters. He has incapacitated them, it seems."
Hung Mien-lo glared at Wang Sau-leyan, then turned angrily away. "Come, then. Let's see what the Prince has left us, neh?"
WANG SAU-LEYAN sat on a footstool in his bedroom, letting the doctor dress the wound at his neck. Across from him Fischer was moving about the bathroom suite, examining the two corpses.
"Why?" Hung Mien-lo asked him again, standing over him almost threateningly. "Why did you kill them?"
He looked up, ignoring Hung Mien-lo, his eyes piercing his elder brother. "They were dangerous men. They killed our father. What was to stop them killing me?"
He smiled tightly, then looked back at the bathroom. He saw Fischer straighten up, turn, and come to the doorway. He had been searching the dead men's clothing, as if looking for something they had stolen.
"Where are they?" Fischer asked, looking directly at him. Wang Sau-leyan stared back at him, irritated by his insolence. "Where are what?" he asked angrily, wincing as the doctor tightened the bandage about his shoulder.
"The ears," said Fischer, coming out into the room.
"Ears?" Wang Sau-leyan gave a short laugh.
"Yes," Fischer said, meeting the Prince's eyes. "The ears, my Lord. Where are the great T'ang's ears?"
The Prince rose sharply from his stool, pushing Hung Mien-lo aside, his broad moonlike face filled with disbelief. He strode across and stood glowering at Fischer, his face only inches from his.
"What are you suggesting, Captain?"
Fischer knelt, his head bowed. "Forgive me, my Lord. 1 was suggesting nothing. But the murderers took your father's ears, and now there is no sign of them."
Wang Sau-leyan stood there a moment longer, clearly puzzled, then whirled about, looking directly at his brother.
"Is this true, Ta-hung?"
"Chieh Hsia . . ." Hung Mien-lo reminded him, but Wang Sau-leyan ignored him.
"Well, brother? Is it true?"
Wang Ta-hung let his head fall before the fierceness of his younger brother's gaze.
He nodded. "It is so."
Wang Sau-leyan took a shuddering breath then looked about him again, his whole manner suddenly defiant, his eyes challenging any in that room to gainsay him.
"Then I'm glad I killed them."
Hung Mien-lo stared at the Prince a moment, astonished by his outburst, then turned and looked across at Wang Ta-hung. The contrast was marked. Tiger and lamb, they were. And then he understood. Wang Sau-leyan had dared to have his father killed. Yes! Looking at him he knew it for a certainty. Sun had had access to the T'ang and motive enough, but only Wang Sau-leyan had had the will—the sheer audacity—to carry through the act.
It took his breath. He looked at the Prince with new eyes. Then, almost without thinking, he stepped forward and, his head bowed in respect, addressed him.
"Please, my Prince, sit down and rest. No blame attaches to you. You did as you had to. The murderers are dead. We need look no further."
Wang Sau-leyan turned, facing him, a smile coming to his lips. Then he turned toward Fischer, his face hardening again.
"Good. Then get the bodies of those vermin out of here and leave me be. I must get some sleep."
PART I SUMMER 2206
The Art of War
Though the enemy be stronger in numbers, we may prevent him from righting. Scheme so as to discover his plans and the likelihood of their success. Rouse him, and leam the principle of his activity or inactivity. Force him to reveal himself, so as to find out his vulnerable spots. Carefully compare the opposing army with your own, so that you may know where strength is superabundant and where it is deficient.
—SUN TZU, The Art of War, fifth century b.c.
CHAPTER ONE
The Fifty-Ninth Stone
IT WAS DAWN on Mars. In the lowland desert of the Golden Plains it was minus 114 degrees and rising. Deep shadow lay like the surface of a fathomless sea to the east, tracing the lips of huge escarpments; while to the north and west the sun's first rays picked out the frozen slopes and wind-scoured mouths of ancient craters. Through the center of this landscape ran a massive pipeline, dissecting the plain from north to south, a smooth vein of polished white against the brown-red terrain.
For a time the plain was still and silent. Then, from the south, came the sound of an approaching craft; the dull roar of its engines carried faintly on the thin atmosphere. A moment later it drew nearer, following the pipeline. Feng Shou Pumping Station was up ahead, in the distance—a small oasis in the billion-year sterility of the Martian desert—discernible even at this range from the faint spiral curve of cloud that placed a blue-white smudge amid the perfect pinkness of the sky.
The report had come in less than an hour earlier, an unconfirmed message that an unauthorized craft had been challenged and brought down in the Sea of Divine Kings, eighty li northwest of Feng Shou Station. There was no more than that; but Karr, trusting to instinct, had commissioned a Security craft at once, speeding north from Tian Men K'ou City to investigate.
Karr stared down through the dark filter of the cockpit's screen at the rugged terrain below, conscious that after eight months of scouring this tiny planet for some sign of the man, he might at last be nearing the end of his search.
At first he had thought this a dreadful place. The bitter cold, the thin unnatural atmosphere, the closeness of the horizon, the all-pervading redness of the place. He had felt quite ill those first few weeks, despite the enjoyable sensation of shedding more than 60 percent of his body weight to Mars' much smaller surface gravity. The Han Security officer who had been his host had told him it was quite natural to feel that way: it took some time to acclimatize to Mars. But he had wondered briefly whether this cold, inhospitable planet might not be his final resting place. Now, however, he felt sad that his stay was coming to an end. He had grown to love the austere magnificence of Mars. Eight months. It was little more than a season here.