Jelka turned at the sound and, seeing him, dropped the stones and ran across, a great beam of a smile on her face. Tolonen hugged her to him, lifting her up off the ground and closing his eyes to savor the feel of her arms about his back, the softness of her kisses against his neck. It was a full week since they had seen each other last.
He kissed her brow, then set her down, laughing softly.
"What is it?" she said, looking up at him, smiling.
"Just that you're growing so quickly. I won't be able to do that much longer, will I?"
"No. . . ."Her face clouded a moment, then brightened again. "I've brought Li Yuan and his betrothed a gift. Erkki has it. . . ." She turned and one of the two young guards came across. Taking a small package from his inner pocket, he handed it to her. She smiled her thanks at him, then turned back to her father, showing him the present. It fitted easily into her palm, the silk paper a bright crimson—the color of good luck and weddings.
"What is it?" he asked, letting her take his arm as they began the walk back to the palace buildings.
"You'll have to wait," she teased him. "I chose them myself."
He laughed. "And who paid for them, may I ask?"
"You, of course," she said, squeezing his arm. "But that's not the point. I want it to be a surprise, and you're useless at keeping secrets!"
"Me!" He mimed outrage, then roared with laughter. "Ah, but don't let the T'ang know that, my love, or your father will be out of a job!"
She beamed up at him, hitting him playfully. "You know what I mean. Not the big ones—the little secrets."
They had come to the main entrance to the Halls. While a servant took Jelka's cloak, Tolonen held the tiny package. He sniffed at it, then put it to his ear and shook it.
"It rattles."
She turned and took it back from him, her face stern, admonishing him. "Don't! They're delicate."
"They?" He looked at her, his face a mask of curiosity, but she only laughed and shook her head.
"Just wait. It won't be long now. . . ."
Her voice trailed off, her eyes drawn to something behind him.
"What is it?" he said quietly, suddenly very still, seeing how intent her eyes were, as if something dangerous and deadly were at his back.
"Just something you were saying, the last time General Nocenzi came for dinner. About all the ways there are of killing people."
He wanted to turn—to confront whatever it was—but her eyes seemed to keep him there. "And?" he said, the hairs at his neck bristling now.
"And Nocenzi said the simplest ways are always the most effective."
"So?"
"So behind you there's a table. And on the table is what looks like another gift. But I'm wondering what a gift is doing, lying there neglected on that table. And why it should be wrapped as it is, in white silk."
Tblonen turned and caught his breath. "Gods. . . ."
It was huge, like the great seal the T'ang had lifted earlier, but masked in the whiteness of death.
"Guard!" he barked, turning to look across at the soldier in the doorway.
"Sir?" The guard came across at once.
"Who left this here?"
The look of utter bemusement in the soldier's face confirmed it for him. It was a bomb. Someone had smuggled a bomb into the Palace.
"No one's been here," the soldier began. "Only the Tang's own servants. . . ."
Tolonen turned away, looking back up the corridor. There were three other guards, stationed along the corridor. He yelled at them. "Here! All of you! Now!"
He watched as they carried the thing outside, their bodies forming a barrier about the package. Then, his heart pounding in his chest, he turned to Jelka, kneeling down and drawing her close to him.
"Go in. Tell the T'ang what has happened. Then tell Nocenzi to get everyone into the cellars. At once. Interrupt if you must. Li Shai Tung will forgive you this once, my little one."
He kissed her brow, his chest rising and falling heavily, then got up. She smiled back at him, then ran off to do as he had told her. He watched her go—saw her childish, slender figure disappear into the Hall—then turned and marched off toward the Gatehouse, not knowing if he would ever see her again.
NOCENZI and young Ebert met him returning from the Gatehouse.
"Is it a bomb?" Nocenzi asked, his face grim.
"No. . . ." Tolonen answered distractedly, but his face was drawn, all color gone from it.
Nocenzi gave a short laugh of relief. "Then what is it, Knut?"
Tolonen turned momentarily, looking back, then faced them again, shaking his head. "They're bringing it now. But come. I have to speak to the Tang. Before he sees it."
LI SHAI TUNG got up from his chair as Tolonen entered and came across the dimly lit room to him. "Well, Knut, what is it?"
"Chieh Hsia . . ." Tolonen looked about him at the sea effaces gathered in the huge lantern-lit cellar, then bowed his head. "If I might speak to you alone."
"Is there any danger?"
"No, Chieh Hszo."
The Tang breathed deeply, then turned to his son. "Yuan. Take our guests back upstairs. I will join you all in a moment."
They waited, the T'ang, Tblonen, Nocenzi, and the young major, as the guests filed out, each stopping to bow to the Tang before they left. Then they were alone in the huge, echoing cellar.
"It was not a bomb, then, Knut?"
Tolonen straightened up, his face grave, his eyes strangely pained. "No, Chieh Hsia. It was a gift. A present for your son and his future bride."
Li Shai Tung frowned. "Then why this?"
"Because I felt it was something you would not want Li Yuan to have. Perhaps not even to know about."
The T'ang stared at him a moment, then looked away, taking two steps then turning to face him again.
"Why? What kind of gift is it?"
Tolonen looked past him. There were faint noises on the steps leading down to the great cellar. "It's here now, Chieh Hsia. Judge for yourself."
They brought it in and set it down on the floor in front of Li Shai Tung. The wrapping lay over the present loosely, the white silk cut in several places.
"Was there a card?" The Tang asked, looking up from it.
Tolonen bowed his head. "There was, Chieh Hsia."
"I see. . . . But I must guess, eh?" There was a hint of mild impatience in the Tang's voice that made Tolonen start forward.
"Forgive me, Chieh Hsia. Here. ..."
Li Shai Tung studied the card a moment, reading the brief, unsigned message, then looked back at Tblonen. He was silent a moment, thoughtful, then, almost impatiently, he crouched down on his haunches and threw the silk back.
Li Shai Tung looked across at Tolonen. The Marshal, like Nocenzi and young Ebert, had knelt, so as not to be above the T'ang.
The T'ang's eyes were filled with puzzlement. "But this is a wei chi board, Knut. And a good one too. Why should Li Yuan not have this or know of it?"
In answer Tolonen reached out and took the lids from the two wooden pots that held the stones.
"But that's wrong. . . ." the T'ang began. Then he fell silent.
Wei chi was played with black and white stones: one hundred and eighty-one black stones and one hundred and eighty white. Enough to fill the nineteen-by-nineteen board completely. But this set was different.
Li Shai Tung dipped his hands into each of the bowls and scattered the stones across the board. They were all white. Every last one. He lifted the bowls and upended them, letting the stones spill out onto the board, filling it.
"They feel odd," he said, rubbing one of the stones between thumb and forefinger, then met Tolonen's eyes again. "They're not glass."