"Chieh Hsia!"
He turned at the urgency of the summons. Nan Ho stood at the top of the steps that led up to the wall, his hair disheveled, his eyes alarmed. Seeing him thus, Li Yuan felt all hope bum away, like a mist touched by the first rays of the winter sun.
"What is it?" he said soberly.
"You must come, Chieh Hsia. The screen . . ."
He hurried down, letting Nan Ho lead him through to the room where they had set up their headquarters. A group of men were clustered about the screen. As he entered, they fell back, letting him approach.
Li Yuan stepped closer then stopped and gave a tiny moan.
It was himself. Or, rather, it was his copy—his ching—taken from the place where it had been kept, awaiting his death. The ching stood before the camera, indistinguishable from himself, its silks torn, its hands bound with coarse rope, its eyes downcast, defeated as it spoke to the watching billions.
"It is over," it said, unable, it seemed, to meet the camera's eye; feigning shame at its fate. "You must submit to your new Lord and put down your arms. The Mandate of Heaven is broken."
He shuddered as the image froze and then replayed from the beginning.
"Aiya," he said softly, feeling the last tiny flicker of hope die in him; seeing how even those most loyal to him now looked at him with eyes of pity and regret. Yes, even Nan Ho. This . . . this pretense had been the final blow. Nothing now remained.
"Is Karr still in range?" he asked, looking to his Chancellor.
"I think so, Chieh Hsia."
"Then call him back. There is no point in meeting Lehmann now. It is over. This . . . there is nothing after this."
"Chieh Hsia . . ." Nan Ho made to obey, but a voice from the doorway made him halt and turn.
"Hold a moment, Master Nan! We are not beaten yet."
Pei K'ung strode into the room and faced her husband. "What is this, Yuan? Are you to let this showman beat you? Are you to meekly bow before this Prince of Lies and Illusions?" She shook her head. "No. You must act at once to counter this. You must send out messengers to all your garrisons to let them know what has happened. Master Nan"—she turned to the Chancellor again—"bring paper, ink, and brushes. My husband must write to his commanders. And, Yuan . . . remember who you are."
He stared at her a moment, then bowed his head, honoring her. Looking about him at his men, he drew himself up to his full height. "You heard. Let's get to work at once. The Mandate is not broken. Nan Ho, do as my wife requests. Bring paper, ink, and brushes. And, Haavikko . . ."
The Major came to attention. "Yes, Chieh Hsia?"
"Prepare the imperial cruiser. We leave for Odessa within the hour."
ODESSA WAS A GUTTED SHELL. Its outer walls concealed a scene of utter devastation. More than a hundred thousand had died defending the great Black Sea fortress and pieces of their charred bones littered the landing platform, cracking underfoot as Karr paced back and forth, awaiting his Master's ship. Across from him, Lehmann waited patiently beneath his banner, his lieutenant, Soucek, at his side.
"You're certain he's coming?" Lehmann asked tonelessly.
"He'll be here," Karr answered, glaring at his onetime enemy. "My Master is a man of his word."
If there was any implied criticism in that, Lehmann chose to ignore it. He walked across.
"You received my gift?"
Karr nodded. "You knew I couldn't keep it."
"That was your choice. It was not a bribe. You're not a man to bribe ... or flatter, come to that."
Karr stared back at him, conceding nothing.
"I would have beaten you," Lehmann continued, "in time."
"I know."
"And yet you remained loyal to Li Yuan. Why?"
Karr looked past him at Soucek. "Why does your man stay loyal? Why does any man?"
"Foolishness?"
Karr was silent. Lehmann studied him a moment, then turned away.
"We'll not beat DeVore," he said, so casually that it was almost as if he didn't care.
"Maybe not," Karr answered, looking out to the northeast, his eyes searching the cloudless sky.
"And yet we have to fight, neh?" Lehmann laughed; a cold, strange sound. "We have to fight because if we don't he'll annihilate us. Oh, he'll annihilate us anyway, but a man must have the satisfaction at least to know he was a man and not an insect."
Karr turned back. Both Soucek and Lehmann were watching him. "I shouldn't be here," he said quietly. "I should be with my family."
"Then why aren't you?"
Lehmann came back to him, stopping very close, looking up into his face. "Just why are you doing this, Gregor Karr? After all you've witnessed. After all your Master's done. The Wiring Project. The torturing of good men and women—people who shared your ideals. Ah, yes, and the deals. The pandering to greedy, selfish men. Your friend, Kao Chen ... he saw the shape of things. That's why he got out, isn't it? But you . . . you stayed inside. You served. Why was that?"
Karr shrugged. A sense of duty? Of loyalty? . . . Simple habit? Or was it because he'd still too much pride in himself as a fighter to get out—to become a man of peace and till the earth like Chen?
Pride ... or stupidity.
He looked up. There had been movement in the two gun turrets that still worked. They had swiveled, tracing an incoming. He strode to the edge of the platform and stopped, shielding his eyes, unconscious, it seemed, of the two-li drop only a step from where he stood.
"He's here," he said, seconds before the gun commander confirmed it. "I said he'd come."
"As you said, your Master is a man of his word."
Karr turned, frowning, trying to make out what Lehmann meant by that; but the White T'ang's face was blank, unreadable. Inscrutable, he thought, thinking for the first time how much that face, despite its superficial differences, resembled his Master's. Then he turned back, awaiting his Master's arrival.
THEY HAD SHARED a cup of wine; now the two great men embraced, sealing the compact between them. The paper lay on the campaign table to one side, the ink still drying, the T'ang's great seal lying beside Lehmann's on the cushion.
It was done. The Cities were reunited. At least, until he came. Until DeVote's great fleet swept them into the cold northern sea.
Karr looked down, a bitter taste in his mouth. He had never thought to see the day.
Chih yao yu heng hsin t'ieh ch'u mo ch'eng chen, he thought, recalling the banners that had hung before Lehmann's gate that time he'd gone to meet with him.
If only there is persistence, even an iron pillar will be ground into a needle.
Well, so it was. Lehmann's persistence had certainly ground them down. Unfortunately for him, that same persistence which had made his enemy, Li Yuan, so weak, had likewise weakened his own forces. Both now were vulnerable.
How DeVore must be laughing now, Karr thought sourly. Laughing as a jackal laughs, watching his prey fall from exhaustion.
He sighed. They had learned the lesson far too late—that even persistence can mean nothing in the face of Fate.
"General Karr . . ."
He glanced up, meeting Lehmann's eyes, then looked to his Master. But Li Yuan merely nodded, his eyes instructing Karr to listen.
Lehmann stood before him, handing him a scrolled paper. "As from this moment you are in command of our joint forces. We shall draw up a plan of action which you shall carry out on our behalf."