She crouched and reached out, putting her fingers to the dark, soft-crumbling surface, then lifted them to her mouth, tasting the darkness. It seemed sour, unappetizing. Wiping her fingers against her knee, she stood and moved further in, until she stood at the very center of the great circle.
"Kuan Yin! What happened here?"
She turned and looked back at Erkki. He stood at the circle's edge, his eyes wide with wonder.
"The lightning did it," she said simply, but saw at once that he didn't understand. Of course, she thought; you slept through it, didn't you? In that you're like my father—like all of them—you carry the City within you, wherever you are.
She turned back, looking down. This evening, after supper, her father was coming to take her back. She sighed. It would be nice to see her father again, and yet the thought of returning to the City was suddenly anathema. She looked about her, desperate to see it all one last time, to hold it fast in memory, in case . . .
She shuddered, then finished the thought. In case she never came again.
The nightmares no longer haunted her, the three gaunt men no longer came to the edge of the lake, their mocking eyes staring across at her. Even so, the threat remained. She was the Marshal's daughter, and while he remained important to the T'ang, her life would be in danger.
She understood it now: saw it vividly, as if her mind had been washed as clear as the sky. They had not been after her father. No. They had been after her. For her death would have left her father drained, emotionally incapacitated, a dead man filling the uniform of the Marshal.
Yes, she saw it clearly now. Saw how her death would have brought about her father's fall. And if the keystone fell, how could the arch itself hold up?
She knew her father's weaknesses, knew that he had four of the five qualities Sun Tzu had considered dangerous in the character of a generaclass="underline" his courage too often bordered on recklessness; he was impulsive and quick-tempered and would, if provoked, charge in without considering the difficulties; his sense of honor was delicate and left him open to false accusations; and, lastly, he was deeply compassionate. Against these she set his strengths, chief of which was the loyalty he engendered in those who served under him. As Sun Tzu had said in the tenth book of the Arc of War, "Because such a general regards his men as infants they will march with him into the deepest valleys. He treats them as his own beloved sons and they will die with him."
She nodded to herself. Yes, and weaknesses sometimes were strengths and strengths weaknesses. Take Hans Ebert, for instance. A fine, brave soldier he might be, handsome, too, and well-mannered, yet her father's eyes saw a different man from the one she had seen that day in the Ebert mansion. To her father he was the son he had never had and was thus born to be his daughter's life companion. But that was to forget her own existence, to leave out her own feelings on the matter.
She turned, chilled by the thought, then looked across at the young guard. "Come, Erkki. Let's get back. I ought to pack."
She looked about her as she walked, seeing it all as if it had already passed from her. Yet she would never wholly lose it now. She had found herself here, had discovered in this harsh and forbidding landscape the reflection of her inner self, her true self; once awakened to it she was sure she would never feel the same about her world. The scent of pine and earth, the salt tang of the sea—these things were part of her now, inseparable, like the voices of the island. Before she had been but a shadow of her self, entranced by the dream that was the City, unaware of her inner emptiness. But now she was awake. Herself—fully herself.
THE MESS ORDERLY set the glasses down on the table between the two men, then, with a smart bow, left the room.
"Kan pei!" said Tolonen, lifting his glass to his future son-in-law.
"Kan pei!" Ebert answered, raising his glass. Then, looking about him, he smiled. "This is nice, sir. Very nice."
"Yes." Tolonen laughed. "A Marshal's privileges. But one day you'll be Marshal, Hans, and this room will be yours."
"Maybe so," Ebert answered, setting his glass down. "But not for many years, I hope."
Tolonen smiled. He liked young Ebert hugely, and it was reassuring to know that Jelka would be in such good hands when she was married. Just now, however, there was work to be done; there were other matters to occupy them.
"I've come from the T'ang, "he said, sitting back. "I had to deliver the interim report on the Executive Killings." He paused and sniffed, his features re-forming themselves into a frown. "Li Shai Tung wasn't pleased, Hans. He felt we ought to have got somewhere by now, and perhaps he's right. But the very fact that we've drawn so many blanks convinces me that DeVote's behind this somehow."
"Do you think so, sir?" Ebert looked away, as if considering the matter, then looked back, meeting Tolonen's eyes. "But surely we'd have found something to connect him. It would be rather too clever of him, don't you think, not to have left some trace somewhere? So many people were involved, after all."
"Hmm . . ." Tolonen sipped at his drink—a fruit cordial—then set his glass down again. "Maybe. But there's another matter, Hans. Something I didn't know about until the T'ang told me of it today. It seems that more was taken in the raid on Helmstadt than the garrison expenses. Jewelry for the main part, but also several special items. They were in the safe the Ping Two took. Three items of T'ang pottery. Items worth the gods know how much on the collector's market."
Tolonen reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out three thick squares of black ice. They were "flats," hologramic stills.
"Here," he said, handing them across.
Ebert held them up, looking at them a moment, then placed one on the table beside his drink and pressed the indented strip that ran along one edge. At once a hologram formed in the air above the flat.
He studied each in turn, then handed them back to the Marshal. "They're beautiful. And as you say, they'd fetch astronomical prices, even on the black market." He hesitated, looking down. "I realize it's awkward but. . . well, might I ask what they were doing in the safe at Helmstadt?"
Tolonen tucked the flats away and picked up his glass again. "I have the T'ang's permission to discuss this with you, Hans. But remember, this is mouth-to-ear stuff."
Ebert nodded.
"Good. Well, it seems Li Shai Tung was planning an experiment. The statuettes were to be sold to finance that experiment."
"An experiment?"
"Yes. There have been talks—highly secretive talks, you understand—between the T'ang's private staff and several of the Net's biggest Triad bosses."
Ebert sat back, surprised. "I see. But what for?"
Tolonen sniffed. "It seems that Li Shai Tung wanted to try to reclaim parts of the Net. To bring them back into the fold, so to speak. He would guarantee basic services and limited travel in the lower levels, as well as huge cash injections to bring facilities up to standard. In return the Triad bosses would guarantee to keep the peace, within the framework of existing law."
Ebert looked down. "It seems . . ." he sighed, then looked up again. "Forgive me for being candid, sir, but I'd say it was highly optimistic, wouldn't you?"
Tolonen lowered his voice. "Just between us, Hans, I fully agree. But ours is not to question policy, ours is to carry that policy out. We are our master's hands, neh?"
There was a moment's silence between the men, then Tolonen continued. "Anyway, it seems that the loss of the three statues has thrown things into flux for the time being. The T'ang is reluctant to part with any more of his treasures until it can be found what happened to these three. If the Triads were involved—if they are trying to have their cake and eat it—Li Shai Tung wants to know that. It may answer other questions, too. We've had our suspicions for some while that the Ping Tiao were working with another group in their raid on Helmstadt. If they were acting in conjunction with one or other of the larger Triad bosses, it would explain a lot. Maybe it would even give us a handle on these murders."