Heng turned angrily and followed Chung Hu-yan into a room to the right of the throne. The T'ang was waiting for him there, standing among the tall-leafed plants at the edge of a small decorative carp pond.
"Chieh Hsia," he said, bowing deeply, "I hope you are in good health."
Li Shai Tung turned from his contemplation of the fish. "Come in, Minister Heng. Please, take a seat. WeVe business to discuss."
Heng sat, his back to the unlit fire, looking about him, noting with pleasure the simple luxuries of the room. There was a tall screen across the center of the room; a delightful thing of brightly colored silk, and next to it a low, squat vase, rounded like the belly of a wrestler, its glaze the sweetest, softest lavender he'd ever seen.
"This is a beautiful room, Chieh Hsia."
"Yes," said the T'ang, smiling. "It was my grandfather's favorite room. His picture hangs behind you."
Heng turned and looked up, first at Wen Ti, then at the painting beside it, conscious at once of the strength, the raw vitality, of the man portrayed. "Ah, yes. He has your eyes, Chieh Hsta."
"My eyes?" The T'ang looked down, thoughtful. "They say he had perfect vision all his life. That at seventy he could see what type of bird was nesting in a tree more than two U distant. But there's seeing and seeing, eh, Heng?" He met the Minister's eyes again, a wry yet challenging look in his own.
Heng bowed, conscious of the exaggeration and suddenly wary of its meaning. "As you say, Chieh Hsia."
"Yes ... as I say." The T'ang looked past him, up at the painting of his ancestor. "And if I say Heng Yu is not appointed in Lwo Kang's place?"
Heng Chi-po stiffened in his seat, then forced himself to relax. "Then that, too, is as you say. One does not question the word of a T'ang."
Li Shai Tung sat back. "No," he said, watching his Minister closely. "But that is what you came for, is it not?"
Heng looked up again. "It was, Chieh Hsia. But as you've made your decision. . . ."
The T'ang raised his chin slightly. "There was nothing else, then? No other matter you wished to speak to me about?"
Heng kept his face a blank. "Nothing that cannot wait for the next meeting of the Council of Ministers. I thought to plead on my nephew's behalf. To put his qualities before you. He is a good man, a capable man, Chieh Hsia."
Strangely, the T'ang laughed. "You are quite right, Minister Heng. He is a good man. Which is why I saw him this very morning."
The look of surprise on Heng's face was unfeigned. "Chieh Hsia?"
"And appointed him."
Heng's mouth fell open. "But you said—"
The T'ang clicked his fingers. Two guards came in and stood there at either end of the screen. Heng looked across at them, frowning, not understanding, then looked back at the T'ang.
"Yes. I spoke to him at length. I questioned him about the five classics. Then, finally, I set him a riddle."
"A riddle, Chieh Hsia?"
Li Shai Tung stood up and went over to the screen. "I put this problem to him. If one knows a man is guilty yet has no proof, how can one act and yet be considered just?"
Heng lowered his eyes.
"You see my drift, Minister Heng? You understand me?"
The T'ang's voice was suddenly harsher, colder.
Heng glanced up; saw how closely the T'ang was watching him now. No proof, he thought. You have no proof!
The T'ang continued. "Your nephew considered a moment, then asked me how it was I knew and yet could not prove the matter? Was I, then, not witness to the guilty act? No, I had to answer. What then? he asked. Was there another, perhaps, whose word meant less in the eyes of the world than that of the guilty man? Were the scales of accusation and denial tipped unevenly in the latter's favor? I smiled and nodded. But so it ever is. How balance them?"
Heng had gone cold.
"And do you know what he said?"
The Minister looked up. He hesitated, then found his voice. "No, Chieh Hsifl."
The T'ang laughed sourly. "No, you wouldn't, would you, Heng?"
He snapped his fingers again, then moved aside as the guards lifted and carried the screen away.
Heng gasped. His face blanched. Then he looked down sharply, swallowing loudly.
The T'ang came closer and stood over him. "You're a clever man, Heng Chi-Po. Too clever to leave your print on things. But I know you for what you are. I've seen it here, with my own eyes. Your guilt is as clear on you as the glaze on this vase."
He turned and looked across to where Pi Ch'ien sat, hands in his lap, silently watching, then looked back down at his Minister.
"Over there, in the comer, is a desk. On the desk you will find an ink block, brushes, writing paper, and your seal of office. I want you to write a letter to me explaining that you have been suffering from ill health these last few months. So much so that you must, with great sadness, naturally, resign your post."
There was the smallest movement of Heng's head as if to protest, then he nodded.
"Good. In which case there will be no loss of pension, no public loss of face. As for your family, they will gain a better man as minister. Heng Yu will be appointed in your place."
Heng Chi-Po looked up mutely, miserably, then bowed his head again and stood to do as he was bid.
HENG K O U waved the servant away, then leaned across to lock and seal the carriage.
"What is it, first brother? What has happened?"
For a moment Heng Chi-Po was unable to speak. His face was mottled with fury and his hands pulled convulsively at each other. Then he leaned forward across the gap between them until his face was almost touching Kou's.
"This is Tolonen's doing." Heng Chi-Po blinked angrily, then leaned back again. For a moment he was silent, staring away into the distance, his whole face fixed in a mask of purest hatred. Then he turned and faced his brother again. "I saw it in his eyes. That man has never liked me, Kou. And now he has poisoned the T'ang against me."
Kou frowned. "Poisoned . . . how?"
"The insect tricked me. Trapped me. . . ." Heng Chi-Po's chest rose and fell violently now. Sweat beads stood out on his forehead.
Heng Kou began to understand. Gods! Heng Chi-Po was out. That was it, wasn't it? For some reason he was out. Nothing else could have brought him to this state. But was this a tragedy for Chi'Po alone or for the whole family? Was all lost? Or could the damage be contained? He had to know.
Heng Kou calmed himself and leaned forward, forcing his brother to look at him. "Tell me what happened, eldest brother. What misfortune has befallen our great family?"
Heng Chi-Po tried to meet his eyes, then looked down sharply, his voice suddenly bitter with shame. He was close to tears.
"I am no longer minister. Li Shai Tung has stripped me of my office."
"Stripped you. . . ." Heng Kou feigned speechlessness. Then he found his voice again. "He forced you to resign, you mean?"
Heng Chi-Po nodded, the first tears rolling down his cheeks. "But there's more, Kou. He has appointed nephew Yu in my place. Can you believe that? The humiliation of it! We shall be laughingstocks!"
Heng Kou's mind reeled. Nephew Yu! After the first shock of it he wanted to laugh aloud, but he hid both his delight and his relief. "That's outrageous!" he Said. "It is an insult, elder brother. A slur upon the whole family." But he was already considering how to act to minimize the damage to the family.
Heng Chi-Po leaned forward again, his red-rimmed eyes suddenly angry again. "I'll have him, Kou! I'll have the carrion dead, understand?"
For a moment Heng Kou was too shocked for words, but then he saw that his brother didn't mean the T'ang.
"Leave it, brother. Please. It's done. You can't undo it thus."
Heng Chi-Po shook his head violently. "No, Kou. I want Tblonen dead. By tomorrow evening. Understand me? I want that bastard obliterated. I want him nonexistent. I want. . ."
Heng Kou shivered, then bowed his head. "As you wish, my brother."