"This is a new age, old man. New things are happening in the world. The Seven must change with the times or go under. And if I must break your power in Council to bring about that change, then break it I shall. But do not think to buy or silence me, for I'll not be bought or silenced."
Li Shai Tung stood there, astonished, his lips parted. Break it? Break his power? But before he could speak there was a knocking at the door.
"Come in!" he said, only half aware of what he said, his eyes still resting on the figure of the young T'ang.
It was Chung Hu-yan. Behind him came four servants, carrying trays. "Chieh Hsia—?" he began, then stepped back hurriedly as Wang Sau-leyan stormed past him, pushing angrily through the servants, knocking their trays clattering to the tiled floor as they hastened to move back out of the T'ang's way.
Hou Tung-po hung back a moment, clearly dismayed by what had happened. Taking a step toward Li Shai Tung, he bowed, then turned away, hurrying to catch up with his friend.
Li Shai Tung stood there a moment longer; then waving his Chancellor away, he went to the desk and picked up one of the documents. He stared at it a moment, his hands trembling with anger; then, one by one, he began to pick off the unmarked seals with his fingernails, dropping them onto the floor beside his feet until only his own remained at the foot of the page.
He would have offered this today. Would have gladly torn this document to shreds to forge a peaceful understanding. But what had transpired just now convinced him that such a thing was impossible. Wang Sau-leyan would not permit it. Well, then, he would act alone in this.
He turned his hand, placing the dark, dull metal of the ring into the depression at the desk's edge, letting it grow warm; then he lifted his hand and pressed the seal into the wax.
There. It was done. He had sanctioned his son's scheme. Had given it life.
For a moment longer he stood there, staring down at the document, at the six blank spaces where the seals had been; then he turned away, his anger unassuaged, speaking softly to himself, his words an echo of what the young T'ang had said to him.
"This is a new age, old man. New things are happening in the world."
He laughed bitterly. "So it is, Wang Sau-leyan. So it is. But you'll not break me. Not while I have breath."
KARR STOOD on the mountainside, shielding his eyes, looking about him at the empty slopes. It was cold, much colder than he'd imagined. He pulled the collar of his jacket up around his ears and shivered, still searching the broken landscape for some sign, some clue as to where to look.
The trouble was, it was just too big a place, too vast. One could hide a hundred armies here and never find them.
He looked down, blowing on his hands to warm them. How easy, then, to hide a single army here?
It had begun two days ago, after he had been to see Tolonen. His report on the Executive Killings had taken almost an hour to deliver. Even so, they were still no closer to finding out who had been behind the spate of murders.
Officially, that was. For himself, however, he was certain who was behind them—and he knew both the T'ang and Tolonen agreed. DeVore. It had to be. The whole thing was too neat, too well orchestrated, to be the work of anyone else.
But if DeVore, then why was there no trace of him within the City? Why was there no sign of his face somewhere in the levels? After all, every Security camera, every single guard and official in the whole vast City, was on the look-out for that face.
That absence had nagged at him for weeks, until coming away from his meeting with Tolonen, he had realized its significance. If DeVore couldn't be found inside, then maybe he wasn't inside—maybe he was outside? Karr had gone back to his office and stood before the map of City Europe, staring at it, his eyes drawn time and again to the long, irregular space at the center of the City—the Wilds—until he knew for a certainty that that was where he'd find DeVore. There, somewhere in that tiny space.
But what had seemed small on the map was gigantic in reality. The mountains were overpowering, both in their size and number. They filled the sky from one horizon to the other; and when he turned, there they were again, marching away into the distance, until the whole world seemed but one long mountain range and the City nothing.
So, where to start? Where, in all this vastness of rock and ice, to start? How to search this godsforsaken place?
He was pondering that when he saw the second craft come up over the ridge and descend, landing beside his own, in the valley far below. A moment later a figure spilled from the craft and began to make its way toward him, climbing the slope. It was Chen.
"Gregor!" Chen greeted him. "I've been looking all over for you."
"What is it?" Karr answered, trudging down through the snow to meet him.
Chen stopped, then lifted his snow goggles, looking up at him. "I've brought new orders. From the T'ang."
Karr stared at him, then took the sealed package and tore it open.
"What does it say?"
"That we're to close the files on the murders. Not only that, but we're to stop our search for DeVore—temporarily, at least—and concentrate on penetrating the Ping Tiao organization. It seems they're planning something big."
Chen watched the big man nod to himself, as if taking in this new information, then look about him and laugh.
"What is it?" he asked, surprised by Karr's laughter.
"Just this," Karr answered, holding the T'ang's orders up. "And this," he added, indicating the mountains all about them. "I was thinking—two paths, but the goal's the same. DeVore."
"DeVore?"
"Yes. The T'ang wants us to investigate the Ping Tiao, and so we shall; but when we lift that stone, you can lay odds on which insect will come scuttling out from under it."
"DeVore," said Chen, smiling. "Yes, DeVore."
HANS ebert stood on the wooden veranda of the lodge, staring up the steep, snow-covered slope, his breath pluming in the crisp air. As he watched, the dark spot high up the slope descended slowly, coming closer, growing, until it was discernibly a human figure. It was coming on apace, in a zig-zag path that would bring it to the lodge.
Ebert clapped his gloved hands together and turned to look back inside the lodge. There were three other men with him, his comrades in arms. Men he could trust.
"He's here!" he shouted in to them. "Quick now! You know your orders!"
They got up from the table at once, taking their weapons from the rack near the door before going to their posts.
When the skier drew up beneath the veranda, the lodge seemed empty except for the figure leaning out over the balcony. The skier thrust his sticks into the snow, then lifted his goggles and peeled off his gloves.
"I'm pleased to see you, Hans. I didn't know if you would come."
Ebert straightened up, then started down the steps. "My uncle is a persuasive man, Shih DeVore. I hadn't realized he was an old friend of yours."
DeVore laughed, stooping to unfasten his boots. He snapped the clips and stepped off the skis. "He isn't. Not officially. Nor will you be. Officially."
He met the younger man at the bottom of the steps and shook both his hands firmly, warmly, flesh to gloves.
"I understand it now."
"Understand what? Come, Hans, let's go inside. The air is too keen for such talk."
Hans let himself be led back up into the lodge. When they were sitting, drinks in hand, he continued. "What I meant is, I understand now how you've managed to avoid us all these years. More old friends, eh?"
"One or two," said DeVore cryptically, and laughed.
"Yes," Ebert said thoughtfully, "You're a regular member of the family, aren't you?" He had been studying DeVore, trying to gauge whether he was armed or not.
"You forget how useful I once was to your father."