Karr made a noise of disbelief, stunned by the enormity of what had been decided. "And the Minor Families. . . have they been consulted on this matter?"
Again she smiled. "No. Nor shall they be. For I have no intention of honouring the agreement."
He stared back into her eyes, alarmed. "Mistress?"
"You heard me Marshal. You don't seriously think we could let such rabble - such bandits as you so rightly termed them -become Lords, do you? No. Nor shall we. As soon as the other Warlords have been destroyed and their forces dissipated, we shall turn on Hu and Mao and crush them without mercy."
She smiled - a light, almost pleasant smile, then turned from him. "But you will keep that to yourself."
He saw her look to Ming Ai, saw the eunuch smile as if he shared the joke.
"And when am I to go?"
"The day after tomorrow," she said, going to her and desk and sitting. "You will travel to Mashhad to meet with Hu Wang-chih. I shall prepare whatever documents you'll need and will brief you fully before you go."
"I am to go alone, then, Mistress?"
She looked up at him, then reached across the desk to take a brush and ink it. "Is that a problem, Marshal Karr?"
He shook his head. But the more he heard the worse he felt about this mission.
"May I ask one final thing, Mistress?"
Her brush, which had begun to sketch out pictograms on the blank paper, paused. She looked up at him again, her eyes cold, no love for him in them. "Yes, Marshal Karr?"
"Why are you sending me?"
The sun glinted off the great Bell Tower of the San Chang, casting its long shadow over the jetty as Li Yuan stepped out to greet the royal barge. Behind him the full Court had gathered for the occasion, servants lined up in ranks behind the smaller group of Courtiers, Ministers and Minor Family princes.
117 -
As the two women stepped down, Li Yuan lowered his head, acknowledging with that gesture the high regard in which the Shepherd family were held - a special status enshrined in the laws of Chung Kuo. Just beyond the women, hanging back at the rail, was Shepherd's son, so like his father that it could have been a younger version.
"Welcome," Li Yuan said, smiling first at Shepherd's dark-haired sister, Meg, then at his wife, the red-haired Catherine. "I am delighted you have come."
"It was very kind of you to invite us," Meg answered, looking beyond him, clearly disappointed that Ben was not there to greet them. "My brother?" she said quietly.
Li Yuan moved closer, conscious as he did of the discreetly perfumed scent of the two women, answering Meg in a whisper. "He will meet us inside. He thought it... better."
Meg nodded, as if she understood. Catherine, however, seemed less concerned. She stared past him, studying the walls of the palace.
"Your journey was good, I hope?" Li Yuan asked her.
Catherine turned her head and met his smile, her green eyes twinkling momentarily, making Li Yuan understand just why Ben had married the woman. "It was certainly eventful," she said. "If s fortunate young Tom has a good sense of direction, otherwise we'd be looking for him still."
"Ah. .." Li Yuan looked past her. Tom had moved from the rail and was coming down the gangway. A moment later he stood before the T'ang.
Astonishing, he thought, recollecting once again the first time he had met the mould from which this copy had been cast. He took the boy's hand and, instead of shaking it, turned it in his own, as if studying it. It was a gesture so like one Ben would use that Tom looked up and smiled.
"I am very pleased to meet you, Thomas. You are so very like your father," he said. "And your mother, of course," he added quickly, looking to Meg, anxious not to offend.
She smiled, and as she did he saw that it was Tom's smile, Ben's smile, as if the three had been cloned from the same DNA.
Not surprising, he thought, recalling what Ben had told him of the genetic "programme" set up by his great-great-greatgrandfather, Amos. For the Shepherd's were not a "normal" family - not in any respect.
"Anyway," he said, collecting his thoughts. "Come through into the palace. We've nothing formal arranged for tonight, but it will give you a chance to meet a few people. Some you will know. Others . . ." He stopped, realising he was in danger of rambling; realising also that it was an age since he had last done this - since he had last taken part in the official, ritual life of his Court.
"It's a beautiful place," Catherine said, as they began to walk toward the palace, Tom bringing up the rear of their party. "I thought it would be more . . . German, I guess."
Li Yuan laughed. "It is the thing about we Han. Wherever we travel, we are never far from home. If one must live in exile, then it is best to surround oneself with such . . . reminders, neh?"
Her answering smile suggested that, if she did not disagree with him, she did not entirely agree either. Again it made him re-evaluate her. To be Ben's mate - to keep his interest - that would be some task for a single woman.
Then again, she wasn't a single woman. After all, there was also Meg, sharing Ben's life, his bed.
Li Yuan looked down, remembering in that instant the three wives he had once had; recalling their differences, the special traits he had liked about each.
Dead they were. Gone. Murdered by his enemies.
Yes, but then his enemies were also dead. Murdered in turn. Killed by his servants, to his order. An eye for an eye, as Ben so often said.
Such is the world, he thought, looking straight ahead, smiling fixedly as they made their way through the bowing group of Courtiers and Ministers, his emotions at that moment a mixture of bitterness and sadness. Try as one might, one cannot change it.
And he had tried. The gods knew he had tried.
"Are the Osu here?" Catherine asked, the faintest waft of her perfume reaching him as she leaned towards him.
"The Osu? Why, yes. You're interested in their history?" She laughed, then leaning even closer, spoke to his ear. "Bugger their history! Ben's promised me I can sleep with one!"
There was a heavy knocking on the outer gate, impatient and aggressive. Chuang Kuan Ts 'ai, who was standing on a chair at the sink, her arms elbow-deep in the washing-up bowl, turned abruptly, looking to her adopted father, the Oven Man, where he sat at table cradling his ch'a bowl.
"Are you expecting someone, Uncle Cho?"
He looked back at her and shrugged, then, setting the bowl down softiy, stood, his actions weary. It had been a long, hard day and it was late. Almost tenth bell.
She watched him go out, heard his footsteps on the stone floor of the hallway; heard the latch slide back, his footsteps on the cobbles of the courtyard.
The hammering came again.
"Okay . . . okay, I'm coming!"
She could picture him looking through the spyhole in the gate. A moment later she heard the rattle of the chain, the grating of the top bolt as he slid it back.
"It's late," he said. "I dosed an hour back."
"We've urgent business," someone answered gruffly.
"Can't it wait?"
"No," came the answer. "We've five bodies need storing overnight, til you can burn them."
Chuang jumped down from the chair and hurried to the door, peering out across the unlit courtyard. On the far side, framed by the light from the yard's single lamp, she could see Uncle Cho, his face looking round the gate, one massive hand holding it half-closed against them. In the gap, back-lit, was a stranger, a tall, shaven-headed Han dressed in the bottle green of Pei K'ung's elite. In one hand he cupped an ID badge. Beyond him there were others. How many, she couldn't teU.