"We'll get a few bits and pieces, eh? Brighten things up a bit. Make it more personal. More us."
She smiled. "That would be nice."
He let her go, then stood there, watching her move about the room, disturbed by the thoughts, the memories that insisted on returning to him in her presence. He kept thinking of the girl in Mu Chua's House of the Ninth Ecstasy, the singsong girl, White Orchid, who had looked so much like Vesa. He looked down. But all that was behind him now.
"I thought I might cook you something . . ."
He went across to her. "Vesa, look. . . I'm sorry, but there's something I have to do tonight. Something urgent."
She turned and looked at him, her disappointment sharp. "But I thought. . ."
"I know. I'm sorry, I..."
"Is it your new job?"
He swallowed. "Yes . . ." He hated lying to her, even over something as innocent as this, but it was important that she didn't get involved. It would be dangerous pinning Ebert down and he didn't want to put her at risk. Not for a single moment.
She came across and held his arms. "Never mind. Tomorrow night, eh? We'll celebrate. I'll cook something special." She hesitated, watching his face a moment, then smiled, her voice softening. "You know, Axel. I'm proud of you, I always have been. You were always something more to me than just my big brother. You were like—"
"Don't..." he said softly, hurt by her words. Even so, he could not disillusion her, could not tell her the depths to which he had sunk. One day, perhaps, but not now. Maybe when he had nailed Ebert and the truth was out he would tell her everything. But not before.
Her eyes blazed with her fierce sisterly love of him. That look, like purity itself, seared him and he let his eyes fall before it.
"I must go." He kissed her brow, then turned away. He went to his room and picked up the bag he had packed earlier; then he went to the small desk in the comer and took a tiny notebook from the drawer.
"Your new job ... is it dangerous?" she asked, watching him from the doorway.
He looked back at her. "It might be."
"Then you'd best have this."
She placed something in his left hand. It was a pendant on a chain. A circle of black and white jade, the two areas meeting in a swirling S shape, a tai chi, the symbol of the Absolute—of yin and yang in balance. He stared at it a moment, then looked up at her.
"It was Father's," she said to his unspoken question. "He left it to me. But now it's yours. It will protect you."
He put his bag down and slipped the pendant over his neck, holding the jade circle a moment between his fingers, feeling the cool smoothness of its slightly convex surface; then he tucked it away beneath his tunic.
He leaned forward and kissed her. "Thank you . . . I'll treasure it."
"And Axel?"
He had bent down to lift his bag again. "Yes?"
"Thank you ... for all of this."
He smiled. Yes, he thought, but I should have done it years ago.
KLAUS EBERT poured two brandies from the big decanter, offering one to his son.
"Here . . ."
Hans raised his glass. "To you, Father."
Klaus smiled and lifted his glass in acknowledgment. He studied his son a moment, the smile never leaving his face; then he nodded.
"There's something I wanted to speak to you about, Hans. Something I didn't want to raise earlier, while Mother was here."
Hans raised his eyebrows, then took a deep swig of the brandy. "The Company's all right, isn't it?"
His father laughed. "Don't you read your reports, Hans? Things have never been healthier. We're twice the size we were five years ago. If this continues . . ."
Hans reached out and touched his father's arm. "I read the reports, Father. But that isn't what I meant. I've heard rumors about trouble in the mining colonies."
"Yes . . ." Klaus eyed his son with new respect. He had only had the reports himself last night. It was good to see that, with all his other duties, Hans kept himself astride such matters. He smiled. "That's all in hand. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. It's something more personal."
Hans laughed, showing his fine, strong teeth. "I thought we'd settled that. The Marshal's daughter seems a fine young woman. I'm proud of the way she handled those assassins. She'll make me a good wife, don't you think?"
Klaus nodded, suddenly awkward. "Yes . . . Which is why I felt I had to speak to you, Hans. You see, I've been approached by Minister Chuang."
Hans's look of puzzlement warmed him, reassured him. He had known at once that it was only vicious rumor. For his son to be involved in such an unsavory business was unthinkable.
"I saw the Minister this morning," he continued. "He insisted on coming to see me personally. He was . . . most distressed. His wife, you see . . ."
He hesitated, thinking that maybe he should drop the matter. It was clear from Hans's face that he knew nothing about the allegations.
Hans was shaking his head. "I don't follow you, Father. Is his wife ill?"
"Do you know the woman?"
"Of course. She's quite a popular figure in social circles. I've met her, what?, a dozen, maybe fifteen, times."
"And what do you make of her?"
Hans laughed. "Why?" Then he frowned, as if suddenly making the connection. He put his glass down, anger flaring in his eyes. "What is this? Is the Minister alleging something between me and his wife?"
Klaus gave the slightest nod, grateful to his son for articulating it, gratified by the anger he saw in his son's face.
"Well, damn the man!" Hans continued. "And damn his wife! Is this the way they repay my friendship—with slurs and allegations?"
Klaus reached out and held his son's shoulder. "I understand your anger, Hans. I, too, was angry. I told the Minister that I found his allegations incredible. I said that I would not believe a son of mine could behave as he was alleging you had behaved." He shuddered with indignation. "Furthermore, I told him to either provide substantive proof of his allegations or be prepared to be sued for defamation of character."
Hans was staring at his father wide-eyed. "And what did the Minister say to that?"
Klaus shivered again; then he gave a small laugh. "He was most put out. He said his wife had insisted it was true."
"Gods ... I wonder why? Do you think . . . ?"
"Think what?"
Hans let out a long breath. "Perhaps I spurned the woman somehow. I mean, without knowing it... She's always been one to surround herself with young bucks. Perhaps it was simply because I've never fawned over her or flattered her. Maybe her pride was hurt by that. Did the Minister say how or why she broke this incredible news to him? It seems most extraordinary."
Klaus shook his head. "I never thought to ask. I was so outraged . . ."
"Of course. Perhaps the Minister had a row with his wife and to wound him she used my name. After all, you'd not expect the woman to use the name of one of her real lovers, would you?"
Klaus shrugged, out of his depth. "I guess not."
"Still . . . the nerve of it! To drag me into her sordid affairs. I've a mind to confront her and her husband and have it out with them."
Klaus's fingers tightened on his son's shoulder. "No, Hans. I'd prefer it if you didn't. I think it best if we keep the Minister and his wife at a distance."
"But Father—"
"No. I felt I had to mention it to you, but let this be the end of it. All right?"
Hans bowed his head. "As my father wishes."
"Good. Then let us talk of more pleasant matters. I hear young Jelka is being sent home tomorrow. Perhaps you should visit her, Hans. You could take her a small gift."
Klaus nodded to himself, then drained his glass. Yes, it was probably as Hans said: there had been a row and Chuang's wife had used Hans's name to spite her husband. It was not Minister Chuang's fault. He had reacted as any man would. No, the woman was clearly to blame for everything. In the circumstances it would be inadvisable to allow bad feeling to develop from such shadows. Worse still to make an enemy of the Minister. Tomorrow he would send a gift—one of the new range of creatures, perhaps—to smooth things over.