DeVore drained his bowl and set it down on the tray the girl was holding, waiting for the girl to fill it again before continuing.
"The story is that the Emperor Yao invented wei chi to train the mind of his son, Tan-Chu, and teach him to think like an emperor. The board, you see, is a map of Chung Kuo itself, of the ancient Middle Kingdom of the Han, bounded to the east by the ocean, to the north and west by deserts and great mountain ranges, and to the south by jungles and the sea. The board,
then, is the land. The pieces men, or groups of men. At first the board, like the land, is clear, unsettled, but then as the men arrive and begin to grow in numbers, the board fills. Slowly but inexorably these groups spread out across the land, occupying territory. But there is only so much territory—only so many points on the board to be filled. Conflict is inevitable. Where the groups meet there is war: a war which the strongest and cleverest must win. And so it goes on, until the board is filled and the last conflict resolved."
"And when the board is filled and the pieces still come?"
DeVore looked at him a moment, then looked away. "As I said, it's an ancient game, Tong Chou. If the analogy no longer holds it is because we have changed the rules. It would be different if we were to limit the number of pieces allowed instead of piling them on until the board breaks from the weight of stones. Better yet if the board were bigger than it is, eh?"
Chen was silent, watching DeVore drain his bowl a second time. I'm certain now, he thought. It's you. I know it's you. But Karr wants to be sure. More than that, he wants you alive. So that he can bring you before the T'ang and watch you kneel and beg for mercy.
DeVore set his bowl down on the tray again, but this time he let his hand rest momentarily over the top of it, indicating he was finished. Then he looked at Chen.
"You know, Tong Chou, sometimes I think these two—ch'a and wei chi—along with silk, are the high points of Han culture." Again he laughed, but this time it was a cold, mocking laughter. "Just think of it, Tong Chou! Ch'a and wei chi and silk! All three of them some four and a half thousand years old! And since then? Nothing! Nothing but walls!"
Nothing but walls. Chen finished his ch'a and set it down on the tray the girl held out for him. Then he placed his stone and, for the next half hour, said nothing, concentrating on the game.
At first the game went well for him. He lost few captives and made few trivial errors. The honors seemed remarkably even, and filled with confidence in his own performance, he began to query what Karr had told him about DeVore being a master of weichi. But then things changed. Four times he thought he had DeVore's stones trapped. Trapped with no possibility of escape.
Each time he seemed within two stones of capturing a group; first in ping, the east, at the bottom left-hand corner of the board, then in tsu, the north. But each time he was forced to watch, open mouthed, as DeVore changed everything with a single unexpected move. And then he would find himself backtracking furiously; no longer surrounding but surrounded, struggling desperately to save the group which, only a few moves before, had seemed invincible—had seemed a mere two moves from conquest.
Slowly he watched his positions crumble on all sides of the board until, with a small shrug of resignation, he threw the black stone he was holding back into the tray.
"There seems no point."
DeVore looked up at him for the first time in a long while. "Really? You concede, Tong Chou?"
Chen bowed his head.
"Then you'll not mind if I play black from this position?"
Chen laughed, surprised. The position was lost. By forty, maybe fifty pieces. Irredeemably lost. Again he shrugged. "If that's your wish, Shih Bergson."
"And what's your wish, Tong Chou? I understand you want to be field supervisor."
Chen bowed his head. "That's so, Shih Bergson.
"The job pays well. Twice what you earn now, Tong Chou."
Yes, thought Chen; so why does no one else apply? Because it is an unpopular job, being field supervisor under you, that's why. And so you wonder why I want it.
"That's exactly why I want the job, Shih Bergson. I want to get on. To clear my debts in the Above and climb the levels once again."
DeVore sat back, watching him closely a moment, then he leaned forward, took a black stone from the tray, and set it down with a sharp click.
"All right. I'll consider the matter.-But first there's something you can do for me, Tong Chou. Two nights back the storehouse in the western meadows was broken into and three cases of strawberries, packed ready for delivery to one of my clients in First Level, were taken. You'll understand how inconvenienced I was." He sniffed and looked at Chen directly. "There's a thief on the plantation, Tong Chou. I want to find out who it is and deal with him. Do you understand me?"
Chen hesitated a moment, taken by surprise by this unexpected demand. Then, realizing he had no choice if he was to get close enough to DeVore to get Karr his proof, he dropped his head.
"As you say, Shih Bergson. And when IVe dealt with him?" DeVore laughed. "Then we'll play again, Tong Chou, and talk about your future."
WHEN THE PEASANT had gone, DeVore went across to the screens and pulled the curtain back, then switched on the screen that connected him with Berdichev in the House.
"How are things?" he asked as Berdichev's face appeared.
Berdichev laughed excitedly. "It's early yet, but I think weVe done it. Farr's people have come over and the New Legist faction are swaying a little. Barrow calculates that we need only twenty more votes and weVe thrown the Seven's veto out."
DeVore nodded. "That's good. And afterward?"
Berdichev smiled. "You've heard something, then? Well, that's my surprise. Wait and see. That's all I'll say."
DeVore broke contact. He pulled the curtain to and walked over to the board. The peasant hadn't been a bad player, considering. Not really all that stimulating, .yet amusing enough, particularly in the second phase of the game. He would have to give him nine stones next time. He studied the situation a moment. Black had won, by a single stone.
As for Berdichev and his "surprise". . .
DeVore laughed and began to clear the board. As if you could keep such a thing hidden. The albino was the last surprise Soren Berdichev would spring on him. Even so, he admired Soren for having the insight—and the guts—to do what he had done. When the Seven learned of the investigations—and when they saw the end results . . .
He looked across at the curtained bank of screens. Yes, all hell would break loose when the Seven found out what Soren Berdichev had been up to. And what was so delightful was that it was all legal. All perfectly constitutional. There was nothing they could do about it.
But they would do something. He was certain of that. So it was up to him to anticipate it. To find out what they planned and get in first.
And there was no one better at that game than he. No one in the whole of Chung Kuo.
"Why, look, Soren! Look at Lo Yu-Hsiang!" Clarac laughed and spilled wine down his sleeve, but he was oblivious of it, watching the scenes on the big screens overhead.
Berdichev looked where Clarac was pointing and gave a laugh of delight. The camera was in close-up on the Senior Representative's face.
"Gods! He looks as if he's about to have a coronary!"
As the camera panned slowly round the tiers, it could be seen that the look of sheer outrage on Lo Yu-Hsiang's face was mirrored throughout that section of the House. Normally calm patricians bellowed and raged, their eyes bulging with anger.
Douglas came up behind Berdichev and slapped him on the back. "And there's nothing they can do about it! Well done, Soren! Marvelous! I thought I'd never see the day."