It was an insight into how the Seven were thinking. For them the War was over.
They had won.
But DeVore knew otherwise. The War had not even begun. Not properly. The confiscations and the death of T'angs notwithstanding, it had been a game until now, a diversion for the rich and bored, an entertainment to fill their idle hours. ; But now it would change. He would harness the forces stirring in the lowest levels. Would take them and mold them. And then?
He laughed and crumpled the copy of the Notice in his hand. Then Change would come. Like a hurricane, blowing through the levels, razing the City to the ground.
MAJOR HANS EBERT set the drinks carefully on the tray, then turned and, making his way through the edge of the crowd that packed the great hall, went through the curtained doorway into the room beyond.
Behind him the reception was in full swing; but here, in the T'ang's private quarters, it was peaceful. Li Shai Tung sat in the big chair to the left, his feet resting on a stool carved like a giant turtle shell. He seemed older and more careworn these days; his hair, once gray, was pure white now, like fine threads of ice, tied tightly in a queue behind his head. The yellow cloak of state seemed loose now on his thin, old man's frame and the delicate perfection of the gold chain about his neck served merely to emphasize the frail imperfection of his flesh. Even so, there was still strength in his eyes, power enough in his words and gestures to dispel any thought that he was spent as a man. If the flesh had grown weaker, the spirit seemed unchanged.
Across from him, seated to the right of the ceremonial kang, was Tsu Ma, T'ang of West Asia. He sat back in his chair, a long, pencil-thin cheroot held absently in one hand. He was known to his acquaintances as "the Horse," and the name suited him. He was a stallion, a thoroughbred in his late thirties, broad-chested and heavily muscled, his dark hair curled in elegant long pigtails, braided with silver and pearls. His enemies still considered him a dandy, but they were wrong. He was a capable, intelligent man for all his outward style; and since his father's death he had shown himself to be a fine administrator, a credit to the Council of the Seven.
The third and last man in the anteroom was Hal Shepherd. He sat to Tsu Ma's right, a stack of pillows holding him upright in his chair, his face drawn and pale from illness. He had been sick for two weeks now, the cause as yet undiagnosed. His eyes, normally so bright and full of life, now seemed to protrude from their sockets as if staring out from some deep inner darkness. Beside him, her head bowed, her whole manner demure, stood a young Han nurse from the T'ang's household, there to do the sick man's least bidding.
Ebert bowed, crossed to the T'ang, and stood there, the tray held out before him. Li Shai Tung took his drink without pausing from what he was saying, seeming not to notice the young Major as he moved across to offer Tsu Ma his glass.
"But the question is still what we should do with the Companies. Should we close them down completely? Wind them up and distribute their assets among our friends? Should we allow bids for them? Offer them on the Index as if we were floating them? Or should we run them ourselves, appointing stewards to do our bidding until we feel things have improved?"
Tsu Ma took his peach brandy, giving Ebert a brief smile, then turned back to face his fellow T'ang.
"You know my feelings on the matter, Shai Tung. Things are still uncertain. We have given our friends considerable rewards already. To break up the 118 companies and offer them as spoils to them might cause resentment among those not party to the share-out. It would simply create a new generation of malcontents. No. My vote will be to appoint stewards. To run the companies for ten, maybe fifteen years, and then offer them on the market to the highest bidder. That way we prevent resentment and at the same time, through keeping a tight rein on what is, after all, nearly a fifth of the market, help consolidate the Edict of Technological Control."
Ebert, holding the tray out before Hal Shepherd, tried to feign indifference to the matter being discussed; but as heir to GenSyn, the second largest company on the Hang Seng Index, he felt crucially involved in the question of the confiscated companies.
"What is this?"
Ebert raised his head and looked at Shepherd. "It is Yang Sen's Spring Wine Tonic, Shih Shepherd. Li Shai Tung asked me to bring you a glass of it. It has good restorative powers."
Shepherd sniffed at the glass, then looked past Ebert at the old T'ang. "This smells rich, Shai Tung. What's in it?"
"Brandy, kao liang, vodka, honey, gingseng, japonica seeds, oh, and many more things that are good for you, Hal."
"Such as?"
Tsu Ma laughed and turned in his seat to look at Shepherd. "Such as red-spotted lizard and sea-horse and dried human placenta. All terribly good for you, my friend."
Shepherd looked at Tsu Ma a moment, then looked back at Li Shai Tung. "Is that true, Shai Tung?"
The old T'ang nodded. "It's true. Why, does it put you off, Hal?"
Shepherd laughed, the laugh lines etched deep now in his pallid face. "Not at all." He tipped the glass back and drank heavily, then shuddered and handed the half-empty glass to the nurse.
Tsu Ma gave a laugh of surprise. "One should sip Yang Sen's, friend Hal. It's strong stuff. Matured for eighteen months before it's even fit to drink. And this is Shai Tung's best. A twelve-year brew."
"Yes . . ." said Shepherd hoarsely, laughing, his rounded eyes watering. "I see that now."
Tsu Ma watched the ill man a moment longer, then turned and faced Ebert.
"Well, Major, and how is your father?"
Ebert bowed deeply. "He is fine, Chieh Hsia."
Li Shai Tung leaned forward. "1 must thank him for all he has done these last few months. And for the generous wedding gift he has given my son today."
Ebert turned and bowed again. "He would be honored, Chieh Hsia."
"Good. Now tell me, before you leave us. Candidly now. What do you think we should do about the confiscated companies?"
Ebert kept his head lowered, not presuming to meet the T'ang's eyes, even when asked so direct a question. Nor was he fooled by the request for candor. He answered as he knew the T'ang would want him to answer.
"I believe his Excellency Tsu Ma is right, Chieh Hsia. It is necessary to placate the Above. To let wounds heal and bitterness evaporate. In appointing stewards the markets will remain stable. Things will continue much as normal, and there will be none of the hectic movements on the Index that a selling-off of such vast holdings would undoubtedly bring. As for rewards, the health and safety of the Seven is reward enough, surely? It would be a little man who would ask for more."
The old T'ang's eyes smiled. "Thank you, Hans. I am grateful for your words."
Ebert bowed and backed away, knowing he had been dismissed.
"A fine young man," said Li Shai Tung, when Ebert had gone. "He reminds me more of his father every day. The same bluff honesty. Tolonen's right. He should be a general when he's of age. He'd make my son a splendid general, don't you think?"
"An excellent general," Tsu Ma answered him, concealing any small qualms he had about Major Hans Ebert. His own Security reports on Ebert revealed a slightly different picture.
"Now that we're alone," Li Shai Tung continued, "I've other news."
Both Tsu Ma and Shepherd were suddenly attentive. "What's that?" Tsu Ma asked, stubbing out his cheroot in the porcelain tray on the kang beside him.
"I've heard from Karr. Berdichev is dead."
Tsu Ma laughed, his eyes wide. "You're certain?"
"I've seen it with these eyes. Karr was wired to transmit all he saw and heard."
"Then it's over."