Yang Chih-wen moved back a fraction, his hand resting on his own hidden blade.
"You talk of drugs, Cousin Yang," Lehmann said, facing him again. "Yet the term covers many different things, neh? Some cure diseases. Some enhance performance, others intelligence. Some keep the penis stiff when stiffness is a virtue, others liberate the mind or entertain. These . . ." He smiled a death's-head smile, then drew the razor-sharp blade across his right arm, just below the elbow.
A great gash opened up, blood pumping from a severed artery.
Lehmann threw the knife aside, then took one of the ingots from Visak's palm and squeezed its thick golden contents over the open wound. It hissed and steamed and then, astonishingly, began to move, as if a tiny golden creature burrowed in the gash.
"What in the gods' names . . ."
But Fu Chiang's words were barely out when he fell silent, staring open mouthed. Where the flesh had gaped, it was now drawn in, the wound raw and scabbed. Then, even as they watched, the scabbed flesh shimmered and—like a film run backward—disappeared, leaving the skin smooth, unblemished.
Lehmann held up his arm, showing them all.
The silence had the quality of shock. It was Sheng Min-chung who finally broke the silence.
"GenSyn," he said authoritatively. "There were rumors of regenerative drugs."
Lehmann gave a single nod.
"And this is what you're offering to trade?"
Lehmann shook his head, then took the five remaining ingots from Visak's open palm and began to hand them around. "No. This I'm giving you. What I'll trade is information."
WAVING THE GUARDS ASIDE, Li Yuan pushed through the doors and went inside. A dozen men stood at the balcony's edge, watching what was happening below. They had been training and wore only breechcloths or simple black one-pieces. The scent of sweat was strong.
Hearing the door close, two of them turned and, seeing their T'ang, bowed low and made to leave, but Li Yuan signaled them to stay and went across, joining them at the rail.
He looked down. Kuei Jen, his seven-year-old son, was standing in the middle of the floor, at the very center of the fight circle. About him, facing him east, north, west, and south—were four burly adolescents. Lo Wen, his shaven-headed, middle-aged instructor, stood to one side, his face inexpressive, his arms folded before his chest.
All five combatants were breathing heavily. Kuei Jen, at the center of it all, turned slowly, eyeing his opponents warily, his body tensed and slightly crouched, his weight balanced delicately on the balls of his feet. The boy was naked to the waist and wore only the flimsiest of breechcloths—more string than cloth. His hair was slicked back, his body sheathed in sweat, but his eyes .... • « ;,<
Li Yuan smiled. The boy had fighter's eyes, like his dead uncle, Han Ch'in. Eyes that watched, hawklike, missing nothing.
Two of them moved at once—from east and west. As quick as a fox, Kuei Jen ducked and turned, swinging his right leg low, then twisted on his hips and straight-punched—right, left, right, left—in quick succession.
Two of the youths were down, groaning. Between them stood Kuei Jen as if nothing had happened, his breath hissing through his teeth. Looking on, Lo Wen exhibited not even the slightest flicker of interest.
Li Yuan felt the hairs on his neck rise. There had been a low murmur of satisfaction from the men surrounding him, nods of respect.
The third boy backed off a pace, then, with a blood-curdling yell, he threw himself at the young prince. As he did, the last of them took two quick, quiet steps forward.
He wanted to cry out—to warn his son—but knew it would be wrong.
Kuei Jen's first punch connected cleanly, his fist striking his opponent squarely in the breastbone, knocking him back. But even as he drew his arm back from the second, decisive blow, the other was on his back, pulling him down, a wire cord looped about Kuei Jen's throat.
Li Yuan cried out, unable to help himself. Yet even as his cry echoed in the hall, Kuei Jen flipped backward, the unexpected movement tearing the cord from his assailant's hands. There was a blur of movement and the youth was down, winded. Kuei Jen turned from him, took a single step, and punched, finishing the third of them. He turned, looking calmly at the wheezing youth, and, moving closer, put out his foot and delicately, using only his toes, toppled him onto his back.
There was a great roar from the balcony; a storm of applause. Li Yuan, amazed, let his voice join with it. Then, as it faded, he called down to his son.
"Kuei Jen!"
The young prince spun around and looked up, astonished to find his father there, then bowed low, a color at his neck.
"Father . . ."
About him, the four youths scrambled to present themselves, tucking themselves into a kneeling position—two of them coughing—their shaven heads bowed toward their T'ang. Lo Wen, like a statue until that moment, stepped between them and, bowing to the waist, addressed his Master.
"Chieh Hsia. I did not know ..." - .-.-.•
Li Yuan waved it aside. "What he did just then . . . you taught him that, Master Lo?"
"I did, Chieh Hsia."
"I am much pleased, Master Lo. A student is but as good as his teacher, neh?"
Lo Wen bowed his head, pleased by his T'ang's praise.
"And you, young men . . . you played your part well. You will have a bonus for this morning's work. A hundred yuan apiece!"
"Chieh Hsia!" they cried, almost as one, the delight in their voices obvious.
Li Yuan stood back, gripping the rail tightly, his pride in his son immense. He was about to say something more—to praise the boy before them all—when the doors behind him opened.
"Chieh Hsia ..."
He turned. It was Hu Ch'ang, his Chancellor Nan Ho's Principal Secretary.
"What is it Secretary Hu?"
Hu came forward and, kneeling before his T'ang, placed his forehead to the floor. Rising slightly, he answered him.
"It is your cousin, Tsu Ma, Chieh Hsia. He is calling from his palace in Astrakhan. He says he needs to talk with you urgently."
"Then I shall come, Master Hu."
He turned back, looking to his son, who awaited his father's pleasure, head bowed and perfectly still, and gave the boy a small bow of respect.
"You did well, Kuei Jen. Very well. Come to my study later. After lunch."
Then, turning away, he swept past the kneeling Hu Ch'ang, heading for his study.
SHE HAD JUST COME from her bath and was sitting in the chair by the window, having her hair brushed by the maid, when Li Yuan rushed into the room unannounced.
"Pei K'ung . . . you will never guess what!"
She stared at him, surprised by his animation, by the great beam of a smile he was wearing. Pulling her silk robe tighter about her, she stood, dismissing the maid.
"What is it, husband? Have our armies won some great victory in Africa?"
"Victory?" He laughed, then came across to her. "No, no ... nothing like that. It is Tsu Ma. He has decided to marry!"
She stared at him, astonished.
"It is true," he went on, then laughed again. "It seems he has chosen the girl already. Her family has been approached and they are to be betrothed within the week."
"But the rituals—"
Li Yuan raised a hand. "They will be fully carried out. Ah, but it is an excellent idea, don't you think, Pei K'ung? An imperial wedding! Why, it could come at no better time."
She saw that at once. Even so, for Tsu Ma to marry so late in life might cause almost as many problems as it solved.
"Was this a ... sudden decision, husband?"
Li Yuan shrugged, becoming more serious. "It seems the matter has played upon his mind for some time. But what forced him to the issue, who knows?" He went to the window and stared out across the gardens as if looking for someone. "All I know is that the time must be ripe."