He notched the arrow quickly to the bow and raised it. Then, without seeming to take aim, he drew the string taut and let the arrow fly. There was a satisfying chunk as the arrow hit and split the wood, a hand's length from the gold.
"Not bad. . ." Fei Yen began. Her fan was momentarily forgotten, motionless. Her face was suddenly tense, her whole body attentive to what Han was doing.
Han Ch'in drew a second arrow, notched it, and let it fly as casually as before. This time it landed at the edge of the gold. Han turned, laughing. "Well?"
"Again," she said simply, lifting her chin in what seemed an encouraging gesture. "It might have been luck."
"Luck?" Han Ch'in looked surprised, then laughed and shook his head. "Luck, you think? Watch this, then!"
He notched the arrow, then turned back to face the target. Raising the bow, he twisted it sideways, as if he were on horseback, and let fly. This time the arrow hit the gold dead center.
Yuan was on his feet applauding wildly. Behind him Fei Yen set down her fan and stood up slowly. Then, without a word, she walked up to Han Ch'in and took the bow from him, drawing an arrow from the quiver on his back.
"You want to try?" he said, enjoying the moment. "I'll wager you my horse that you can't even hit the target from here. It's fifty paces, and that's a heavy bow to draw."
She smiled at him. "I've drawn heavier bows than this, Han Ch'in. Bows twice this length. But I'll not take your horse from you, husband-to-be. I've seen how much you love the beast."
Han Ch'in shrugged. "Okay. Then go ahead."
Fei Yen shook her head. "No, Han. Some other prize. Just between us. To prove who's master here."
He laughed uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"
She looked at the bow in her hands, then up at him. "This, maybe. If I can beat you with my three arrows."
For a moment he hesitated; then, laughing, he nodded. "My bow, then. And if you lose?"
She laughed. "If I lose you can have everything I own."
Han Ch'in smiled broadly, understanding her joke. In two days they would be wed and he would be master of all she owned.
"That's fair."
He stepped back, folding his arms, then watched as she notched and raised the bow. For a long time she simply stood there, as if in trance, the bowstring taut, the arrow quivering. Yuan watched her, fascinated, noting how her breathing changed; how her whole body was tensed, different from before. Then, with a tiny cry, she seemed to shudder and release the string.
The arrow flew high, then fell, hitting the wood with a softer sound than Han's.
"A gold!" she said triumphantly, turning to face Han Ch'in.
The arrow lay like a dash across the red. Han's arrows had hit the target almost horizontally, burying themselves into the soft wood, but hers stuck up from the gold like a fresh shoot from a cut tree.
Han Ch'in shook his head, astonished. "Luck!" he said, turning to her. "You'll not do that twice." He laughed, and pointed at the target. "Look at it! A good wind and it'll fall out of the wood!"
She looked at him fiercely, defiantly. "It's a gold, though, isn't it?"
Reluctantly he nodded, then handed her the second arrow. "Again," he said.
Once more she stood there, the bowstring taut, the arrow quivering; her whole self tensed behind it, concentrating. Then, with the same sharp cry, she let it fly, her body shuddering with the passion of release.
This time the arrow seemed to float in the air above the target before it fell abruptly, knocking against the third of Han's.
It was another gold.
Fei Yen turned to Han Ch'in, her face inexpressive, her hand held out for the third arrow.
Han Ch'in hesitated, his face dark, his eyes wide with anger, then thrust the arrow into her hand. For a moment she stood there, watching him, seeing just how angry he was, then she turned away, facing where Yuan sat watching.
Yuan saw her notch the bow, then look across at him, her face more thoughtful than he'd ever seen it. Then, to his surprise, she winked at him and turned back to face the target.
This time she barely seemed to hesitate, but, like Han Ch'in before her, drew the string taut and let the arrow fly.
"No!" Yuan was on his feet. The arrow lay a good five paces from the target, its shaft sticking up from the ground, its feathers pointing toward the bull.
Han Ch'in clapped his hands, laughing. "I win! I've beaten you!"
Fei Yen turned to him. "Yes, Han," she said softly, touching his arm gently, tenderly. "Which makes you master here. ..." <
REPRESENTATIVE BARROW huffed irritably and leaned forward in his seat, straining against the harness. "What do you think the T'ang wants, Pietr, summoning us here five hours early?"
Lehmann looked down through the window, watching the ground come slowly up to meet them. "What do you think he wants? To keep us down, that's what. To tie us in knots and keep us docile. That's all they ever want."
Barrow looked at him sharply. "You think so? You're certain it has nothing to do with the wedding, then?"
Lehmann shook his head, remembering the alarm he'd felt on receiving the T'ang's summons. Like Barrow he had been told to present himself at Tongjiang by the third hour of the afternoon at the latest. No reason had been given, but he knew that it had nothing to do with the wedding. If it had they would have been notified a good month beforehand. No, this was something else. Something unrelated.
"It's bloody inconvenient," Barrow continued. "I was in the middle of a House committee meeting when his man came. Now I've had to cancel that, and the gods know when I'll get a chance now to get ready for the reception."
Lehmann looked at him, then looked away. Whatever it was, it was certain to make a small thing like a House committee meeting seem of no consequence whatsoever. The T'ang did not send his personal craft to bring men to him without good reason. Nor did he use the warrant system lightly. Whatever it was, it was of the first importance.
But what? His pulse quickened momentarily. Had something leaked out? Or was it something else? A concession, maybe? A deal? Something to guarantee his son's inheritance?
Lehmann laughed quietly at the thought, then felt the craft touch down beneath him. For a moment the great engines droned on, then they cut out. In the ensuing silence they could hear the great overhead gates sliding back into place, securing the hangar.
He undid his straps, then stood, waiting.
The door opened and they went outside. The T'ang's Chamberlain, Chung Hu-yan, was waiting for them at the foot of the ramp.
"Ch'un tzu." The Chamberlain bowed deeply. "The T'ang is waiting for you. The others are here already. Please . . ." He turned, indicating they should go through.
Lehmann hesitated. "Forgive me, but what is all this about?"
Chung Hu-yan looked back at him, his expression unreadable. "In time, Under Secretary. The T'ang alone can tell you what his business is."
"Of course." Lehmann smiled sourly, moving past him.
The Hall of the Seven Ancestors was a massive, high-ceilinged place, its walls strewn with huge, opulent tapestries, its floor a giant mosaic of carved marble. Thick pillars coiled with dragons lined each side. Beneath them stood the T'ang's private guards; big vicious-looking brutes with shaven heads and crude Han faces. The small group of Hung Moo had gathered to the left of the great throne, silent, visibly awed by the unexpected grandeur of their surroundings. Across from them, to the right of the throne and some fifteen paces distant, was a cage. Inside the cage was a man.
"Under Secretary Lehmann. Representative Barrow. Welcome. Perhaps now we can begin."
The T'ang got to his feet, then came down the steps of his throne, followed by his sons. Five paces from the nearest of the Hung Mao, he stopped and looked about him imperiously. Slowly, hesitantly, taking each other's example, they bowed, some fully, some with their heads only, none knowing quite what etiquette was demanded by this moment. They were not at Weimar now, nor in the great halls of their own companies. Here, in the T'ang's own palace, they had no idea what was demanded of them, nor had the T'ang's Chamberlain been instructed to brief them.