"You should have stayed inside," Li Shai Tung said, embracing him and kissing his cheeks. "This wind can be no good for you, Tsu Tiao. I thought it would be sheltered here with these walls."
Tsu Tiao reached out and held his arm. He seemed frail, yet his grip, like his voice, was strong. "High walls cannot keep the cold wind from blowing, eh, old friend? I know what it is to lose a son. Nothing would have kept me from paying my respects to Li Han Ch'in."
Li Shai Tung bowed, his face grim. "That is true, Tsu Tiao." He turned to the son. "Tsu Ma. Thank you for coming. I wish we had met in happier circumstances."
Tsu Ma bowed. He was a strong, handsome man in his late twenties who had, until recently, led a headstrong, dissolute life. Now, with his father ill, he had been forced to change his ways. It was rumored Tsu Tiao was grooming him for regent, but this was the first time he had appeared publicly at his father's side.
"I, too, regret that we should meet like this, Chieh Hsio. Perhaps you would let me visit you when things are easier?"
Both Tsu Tiao and Li Shai Tung nodded, pleased by the initiative. "That would be good, Tsu Ma. I shall arrange things."
Li Yuan's uncles were next to pay their respects; Li Yun-Ti, Li Feng Chiang, and Li Ch'i Chun. Advisors to Li Shai Tung, they stood in the same relationship to his father as he once had to his brother. Their lives were as his own might once have been. But it was different now. For Han Ch'in was dead and now he, Li Yuan, was destined to be "Fang.
He had seen the sudden change in them. Eyes which had once passed through him now checked their course and noted him; as if his brother's death had brought him substance. Now strangers bowed and fawned before him. Men like his uncles. He saw how obsequious they had become; how their distant politeness had changed to fear.
Yes, he saw it even now; the fear behind the smiles.
It amused him in a bitter way. Old men afraid of a boy not yet nine. Would I, he asked hfmself, have grown like them, twisted from my true shape by fear and envy? Perhaps. But now I'll never know.
Others came and stood before them. Fei Yen and her father, the old man almost as devastated as his daughter, his earnest, kindly eyes ringed with darkness. Then his father's second wife and her three daughters, all four of them strangers to Li Yuan.
Last were his father's men; Hal Shepherd and the General.
"This is an ill day, old friend," said Shepherd. He embraced the T'ang, then stood back, looking around him. "I hoped not to see this place in my lifetime."
"Nor I," said Tolonen. For a moment he stared outward at the distant mountains of the Ta Pa Shan. And when his eyes fell upon the tomb, it was almost as if his son lay there beneath the earth, such broken love lay in his gaze.
Tolonen stared at the tomb a moment longer, then looked back at his T'ang. "We must act, Chieh Hsia. Such bitterness cannot be borne."
"No, Knut. You're wrong. It must and can be borne. We must find the strength to bear it."
"The Council has made its decision?"
"Yes. An hour back."
The General bowed his head, his disappointment clear. "Then it is wuwei?"
"Yes," the T'ang answered softly. "Wuwei. For all our sakes."
THE HOUSE was in session and Speaker Zakhar was at the lectern, delivering a speech on expansion funding, when the big double doors at the far end of the chamber burst open. Zakhar turned, astonished.
"General Tolonen! What do you mean by this?"
Then Zakhar saw the armed guards pouring in after the General and fell silent. House security was breached. These were the General's own men—his elite guards. They formed up around the upper level of the chamber, their long snub-nosed rifles pointed down into the heart of the assembly.
The General ignored the storm of protests. He moved swiftly, purposefully, toward the bench where the senior representatives were seated, and went straight for Under Secretary Lehmann.
Lehmann was shouting, as vehement as any other in his protest. Tolonen stood there a moment, facing him, as if making certain this was the man he wanted, then reached across the desk and grabbed Lehmann by the upper arms, pulling him toward himself.
There was a moment's shocked silence, then the outroar grew fierce. Tolonen had dragged Lehmann over the desk and was jerking him along by his hair, as if dealing with the lowest cur from the Clay. Lehmann's face was contorted with pain and anger as he struggled to get free, but the General had a firm grip on him. He tugged him out into the space between the benches of the Upper Council and the seats of the General Assembly, then stopped abruptly and pulled Lehmann upright. Lehmann gasped, but before he had time to act, Tolonen turned him and pulled his arm up sharply behind his back. The General had drawn his ceremonial dagger and now held it at Lehmann's throat.
He stood there, waiting for them to be silent, scowling at any who dared come too close. Above him, encircling the chamber, his men stood patiently, their laser rifles raised to their shoulders.
He had only a second or two to wait. The House grew deathly still, the tension in the chamber almost tangible. Tolonen tugged gently at Lehmann's arm to keep him still, the point of his dagger pricking the Under Secretary's skin and drawing a tiny speck of blood.
"I've come for justice," Tolonen said, staring about him defiantly, looking for those faces he knew would be most interested, most fearful, at this moment. They never imagined I would come here for them. The thought almost made him smile; but this was not a moment for smiling. His face remained grim, determined. Nothing would stop him now.
A low murmur had greeted his words and a few shouts from nearer the back of the hall. He had stirred up a hornet's nest here and Li Shai Tung would be furious. But that did not matter now. Nothing mattered but one thing. He had come to kill Leh-mann.
As he stood there, three of his men brought a portable trivee projector down into the space beside him and set it up. The image of Lehmann's face, ten times its normal size, took form in the air beside the frightened reality.
"I want to show you all something," Tolonen said, raising his voice. He seemed calm, deceptively benign. "It is a film we took of our friend here at Li Han Ch'in's wedding. At the private ceremony afterward, in the Imperial Gardens. I should explain, perhaps. The Under Secretary is looking toward where the T'ang's son was standing with his bride. The rest, I think, you'll understand."
Tblonen scanned the crowded benches again, noting how tense and expectant they had become, then turned and nodded to his ensign. At once the great face came to life, but Tolonen did not look at it. He had seen it too many times already; had seen for himself the effect it had had on Li Yuan.
3»7
For the next few minutes there was silence. Only during the final moments of the film was there a growing murmur of unease. They did not have to be told what was happening. The image in the blown-up eye told the story as clearly as any words.
The image faded from the air. Lehmann, who had turned his head to watch, began to struggle again, but the General held him tightly, drawing his arm as far up his back as it would go without breaking, making Lehmann whimper with pain.
"Now youVe seen," said Tblonen simply. "But understand. I do this not for Li Shai Tung but for myself. Because this man has shamed me. And because such vileness must be answered." He raised his chin defiantly. "This act is mine. Do you understand me, ch'un tzu? Mine."
The words were barely uttered when Tblonen drew his knife slowly across Lehmann's throat, the ice-edged blade tearing through the exposed flesh as if through rice paper.