Farther down, on the far side of the lotus lake, a stone boat jutted from the bank. This was the teahouse "Traveling by Sea." At one of the stone benches near the prow Karr sat, alone, a chung of the house's finest ch'a before him. Nearby two of his guards made sure he was not disturbed.
From where Karr sat, he could see the Stone, its shape partially obscured by the willows on the far bank, its top edge blunted like a filed tooth. He stared at it awhile, trying to fit it into the context of recent events.
He sipped at his ch'a, his unease returning, stronger than ever. However he tried to argue it, it didn't feel right. Ywe Hao would never have done this. Would never, for a moment, have countenanced killing so many innocent people. No. He had read what she had written about her brother and been touched by it. Had heard what the guard Leyden had said about her. Had watched the tape of Chen's interview with the two boys—her young lookouts—and seen the fierce love for her in their eyes. Finally, he had seen with his own eyes what had happened at the Dragonfly Club, and in his heart of hearts he could find no wrong in what she had done.
She was a killer, yes, but then so was he, and who was to say what justified the act of killing, what made it right or wrong? He killed to order, she for consciences sake, and who could say which of those was right, which wrong?
And now this—this latest twist. He looked down at the scroll on the table beside the chung and shook his head. He should have killed her while he had still had the chance. No one would have known. No one but himself.
He set his bowl down angrily, splashing the ch'a. Where the hell was Chen? What in the gods' names was keeping him?
But when he turned, it was to find Chen there, moving past the guards to greet him.
"So what's been happening?"
"This . . ." Karr said, pushing the scroll across.
Chen unfurled it and began to read.
"They've taken it out of our hands," Karr said, his voice low and angry. "They've pushed us aside, and I want to know why."
Chen looked up, puzzled by his friend's reaction. "All it says here is that we are to hand her over to the T'ing Wei. That is strange, I agree, but not totally unheard of."
Karr shook his head. "No. Look farther down. The second to last paragraph. Read it. See what it says."
Chen looked back at the scroll, reading the relevant paragraph quickly, then looked up again, frowning. "That cannot be right, surely? SimFic? They are to hand her ovejr to SimFic? What is Tolonen thinking of?"
"It's not the Marshal. Look. There at the bottom of the scroll. That's the Chancellor's seal. Which means Li Yuan jnust have authorized this."
Chen sat back, astonished. "But why? It makes no sense."
Karr shook his head. "No. It makes sense all right's just that we don't know how it fits together yet."
"And you want to know?"
"Yes."
"But isn't that outside our jurisdiction? I mean ..."
Karr leaned toward him. "I've done a bit of digging and it seems that the T'ing Wei are to hand her over to SimFic's African operation."
Chen frowned. "Africa?"
"Yes. It's strange, neh? But listen to this. It seems she's destined for a special unit in East Africa. A place named Kibwezi. The gods alone know what they do there or why they want her, but it's certainly important—important enough to warrant the T'ang's direct intervention. And that's why I called for you, Chen. You see, I've got another job for you—another task for our friend Tong Chou."
Tong Chou was Chen's alias. The name he had used in the Plantations when he had gone in after DeVore.
Chen took a long breath. Wang Ti was close to term: the child was due sometime in the next few weeks and he had hoped to be there at the birth. But this was his duty. What he was paid to do. He met Karr's eyes, nodding. "All right. When do I start?"
"Tomorrow. The documentation is being prepared. You're to be transferred to Kibwezi from the European arm of SimFic. All the relevant background informa-tion will be with you by tonight."
"And the woman? Ywe Hao? Am I to accompany her?"
Karr shook his head. "No. That would seem too circumstantial, neh? Besides which, the transfer won't be made for another few days yet. It'll give you time to find out what's going on over there."
"And how will I report back?"
"You won't. Not until you have to come out."
Chen considered. It sounded dangerous, but no more dangerous than before. He nodded. "And when I have to come out—what do I do?"
"You'll send a message. A letter to Wang Ti. And then we'll come in and get you out."
"I see." Chen sat back, looking past the big man thoughtfully. "And the woman, Ywe Hao ... am I to intercede?"
Karr dropped his eyes. "No. Not in any circumstances. You are to observe, nothing more. Our involvement must not be suspected. If the T'ang were to hear. . ."
"I understand."
"Good. Then get on home, Kao Chen. You'll want to be with Wang Ti and the children, neh?" Karr smiled. "And don't go worrying. Wang Ti will be fine. I'll keep an eye on her while you're gone."
Chen stood, smiling. "I am grateful. That will ease my mind greatly."
"Good. Oh, and before you go ... what did you find out down there? Who had Ywe Hao been meeting?"
Chen reached into his tunic pocket and took out the two framed pictures he had taken from the uncle's apartment; the portraits of Ywe Hao's mother with her husband and Ywe Hao with her brother. He looked at them a moment, then handed them across.
Karr stared at the pictures, surprised. "But they're dead. She told me they were dead."
Chen sighed. "The father's dead. The brother too. But the mother is alive, and an uncle. That's who she went to see. Her family."
Karr stared at them a moment longer, then nodded. "All right. Get going, then. I'll speak to you later."
When Chen had gone, Karr got up and went to the prow of the stone boat, staring out across the water at the Stone. He could not save her. No. That had been taken out of his hands. But there was something he could do for her: one small but significant gesture, not to set things right but to make things better—maybe to give her comfort at the last.
He looked down at the portraits one last time, then let them fall into the water, smiling, knowing what to do.
LI yuan looked about him at the empty stalls, sniffing the warm darkness. On whim, he had summoned the Steward of the Eastern Palace and had him bring the keys, then had gone inside, alone, conscious that he had not been here since the day he had killed the horses.
Though the stalls had been cleaned and disinfected and the tiled floors cleared of straw, the scent of horses was strong; was in each brick and tile and wooden strut of the ancient building. And if he closed his eyes. . .
If he closed his eyes . . .
\He shivered and looked about him again, seeing how the moonlight silvered the huge square of the entrance; how it lay like a glistening layer of dew on the end posts of the stalls.
"I must have horses. . . ." he said softly, speaking to himself. "I must ride again and go hawking. I have kept too much to my office. I had forgotten. . . ."
Forgotten what? he asked himself.
How to live, came the answer. You sent her away, yet still she holds you back. You must break the chain, Li Yuan. You must learn to forget her. You have wives, Li Yuan— good wives. And soon you will have children.
He nodded, then went across quickly, standing in the doorway, holding on to the great wooden upright, looking up at the moon.
The moon was high and almost full. As he watched, a ragged wisp of cloud drifted like a net across its surface. He laughed, surprised by the sudden joy he felt and looked to the northeast, toward Wang Sau-leyan's palace at Tao Yuan, fifteen hundred li in the distance.