"Then you will do nothing against him?"
The T'ang nodded. When he spoke again he was more reserved, more formal, than before. "You must understand me in this, Knut. If I had a single item of evidence against him— however small'—I would break the man, and do it gladly. But as it is . . ." He spread his hands expressively. "It would not do to accuse one of my own ministers without irreproachable evidence."
"I understand."
"Good." The T'ang leaned forward, his dark eyes staring intently at his General. "For now, we'll take Wyatt, and any others that can be traced through him. Lehmann, perhaps, and that foul creature Berdichev. But before we do, make sure there's not a possibility of doubt. We must act from certainty. Chung Kuo must see us to be correct—to be perfectly justified in our actions. I want no trouble in the House because of this."
The General bowed his head, keeping his thoughts to himself. In this the Pang was right. Things had changed subtly in the last ten years. More power than ever before lay in the hands of men like Lehmann. They had money and influence and a vote in the House at Weimar. And though the House was subject to the will of the Seven, it did not do to exercise such power too frequently. The illusion of cooperation—of an independent House, working hand in glove with the Council of the Seven— needed to be preserved. In that illusion lay the basis of lasting peace.
Was that, then, the truth behind all this? Tolonen asked himself. The real reason for Lwo Kang's death? Was it all an attempt to force the hand of the Seven? To make it show its true power openly and without veils before the world? To set House against Seven and force the people to a choice? If so, he understood the T'ang's caution.
He looked up again, meeting the T'ang's eyes. "It is a loathsome business, ours, Chieh Hsia. We must deal fairly, honestly, with cheats and scoundrels." He sighed bitterly. "Those cockroaches are all bows and fair words to our faces, yet beneath that outward show they seethe with subterfuge. They smile but they want us dead."
The T'ang smiled sadly. "Yes, Knut. Yet such is the way of this world. So men are. So they act. And that itself is reason enough for the Seven, eh? Without us where would be the peace our fathers' fathers worked for? What would happen to the City of Ten Thousand Years they built? We know, you and I. The barbarians would tear it down, level by level, and build some cruder, darker thing in its place."
Tolonen tilted his head, agreeing, but he was thinking of the giant, Karr, and of the Pit below the Net where life was fought for openly, beneath the acid glare of brilliant lights. He was a cleaner kind of beast. Much cleaner than Lehmann and his like. For once the Major had been wrong—he had seen that instantly. There was honor in how a man behaved, even beneath the Net. Karr and the dead man, Chen, they were killers, certainly, but weren't all soldiers killers when it came to it? How you killed, that was the important thing. Whether you faced your adversary, man to man, letting the contest be decided on strength of arm and skill, or whether you skulked through shadows like a thief to slip a poisoned blade into a sleeping back.
Yes, he thought, in truth I should hate the indirectness of all this; the masks and the tricks and the unending layers of intermediaries. Yet I've been trained to indirectness—to be as cunning as the men I fight.
"As far as Wyatt is concerned, I'll have the warrant signed before you leave. Is there anything else, Knut?"
"There are two further matters, Chieh Hsia."
"Well?"
"The first is a request." The General handed his Tang one of the papers. "In a week Han Ch'in, your eldest son, is sixteen and becomes a man. It is my wish to give him something appropriate."
Tolonen fell silent, watching as Li Shai Tung unfolded the silk-paper deed of ownership. After a moment the T'ang looked up, a surprised smile lighting his features. "But this is too much, Knut, surely?"
The General bowed his head. "Han Ch'in will be T'ang one day. And though he has the freedom of your stables, Chieh Hsia,
I felt it time he had his own horse. Through horsemanship one learns command."
The T'ang was still smiling. A horse was a princely gift. There were two thousand thoroughbreds at most in the whole of Chung Kuo. To purchase one would have cost even a fabulously rich man like the General more than he could easily afford. Li Shai Tung looked at Tolonen a moment longer, then did what he rarely did and bent his head. "Then it shall be so, old friend. My family is honored by your gift. And Han Ch'in will be delighted."
The General lowered his head, his face burning with pride and pleasure. Across from him the T'ang folded the paper again. "And the second matter?"
"Ah . . . that is a gift to myself." He hesitated, then handed the second of the papers over. "There is a man I want to use. His name is Karr."
THAT EVENING, Under Secretary Lehmann summoned all those delegates and representatives sympathetic to his cause to his suite of rooms in the penthouse of the House of a Thousand Freedoms in Weimar. There was a brooding silence in the long, packed room. Lehmann sat in his chair, one hand tugging distractedly at his pigtail, a copy of the warrant open on the desk before him, an expression of sheer disbelief and outrage building slowly in his face.
"I don't believe it," he said finally, his voice soft, controlled. Then he picked the paper up and held it out to the rest of them. "Does anyone here believe this?"
There was a deep murmur of denial and a shaking of heads.
"But there must be some kind of evidence, Pietr. Even the T'ang would not dare to act without clear evidence."
Lehmann laughed sourly, then turned slightly in his seat and looked across at the delegate who had spoken, a tall, heavily built Hung Moo in a pale green pau. "You think so, Barrow Chao? You think the small matter of evidence will stop a T'ang from acting?"
There was an indrawing of breath in some quarters. A T'ang was a T'ang, after all. Lehmann saw this and made a mental note of those who had seemed outraged by his words, then pressed on. He stood up slowly and came around the table, facing Barrow.
"I've known Edmund Wyatt all my life, Chao. I knew him as a child and I've been honored to know him as a man. I can vouch there's no more honest man in the Above, nor one with less malice in him. For Edmund to have done what this says he did . . . well, it's laughable!"
He was facing Barrow now, only an arm's length from him. Barrow shrugged. "So you say, Pietr. And before today I would have said the same. But I repeat, the T'ang must have evidence. And not just any evidence, but proof positive. He would be mad to act without it."
"Maybe," Lehmann said, turning aside. "But maybe not. Just think about it. In the last five years this House has won more freedoms than in the whole of the previous century. We managed to extend the boundaries of trade and win huge concessions in respect of legitimate research and development. In doing so we brought a refreshing and much needed breath of change to Chung Kuo."
There were murmurs of agreement from the delegates. Lehmann turned back, facing them.
"Change. That's what the Seven hate above all else. Change. And in the last three years we have seen them act to kill those freedoms we so rightly fought for. At first covertly, with whispered words and meaningful glances. Then with 'gifts' for those who would be their friends. Finally, through the alternatives of patronage or the turned back."
There were nods of angry agreement, the agitated whisper of silks as the delegates turned to talk among themselves. There was not one here who hadn't suffered from the backlash. Not one who, as an advocate of change, however limited, had not found, himself "out of favor" and thus out of pocket.
Lehmann waited for things to quiet down, then smiled tightly. "But that was only the start of it, wasn't it? Having failed to check things by covert means, they decided to be more direct. Ministerial appointments, previously and rightly determined by family connections and the commonsense measure of financial power, were suddenly made on some nebulous sense of New Confucian worthiness."