Clarac bowed. "I understand, Shih Berdichev. You think, then, that we should extend the satellite system?"
Berdichev shook his head. "No. I'm satisfied with your reasoning. As you say, it would be impossible for a single man to do any real damage to the craft. Let us worry about more direct approaches, eh? And for a start let's destroy that remote. I'm sure one of our ferry craft could have a little accident, eh? A technical malfunction, perhaps, that would place it oh a collision course?"
Clarac smiled. "Of course, Shih Berdichev. It shall be done at
F EI YEN stood in the shade of the willow, waiting for the two princes to come along the path that led to the bridge. She had seen their craft land only minutes earlier and had placed herself deliberately here where they would have to pass her. Her maids stood off at a slight distance, among the trees, talking quietly among themselves and pretending not to watch her, but she knew they were as inquisitive as she. For the past three years they had shared her tedious exile on her father's estate, where she had seen no one but her brothers and aunts. Today, however, for the first time since the period of mourning had ended, she had been granted permission to call upon the young prince—to stay a week and celebrate his birthday.
Seeing movement among the trees at the far end of the stone-flagged path, she turned and signaled to the maids to be quiet. "Here they come!" she mimed exaggeratedly.
The maids giggled, then, obedient, fell silent.
Fei Yen turned back to watch the two young men approach. But as they came closer she drew her sandalwood fan and waved it impatiently, certain there must be a mistake. Where was Tao Chu? Where was Tsu Ma's strapping young nephew?
She saw the taller of the boys hesitate, then touch the arm of the other and lean close to whisper something. The smaller of them seemed to stare at her a moment, then turn to the other and nod. Only then did the older boy come on.
Three paces from her he stopped. At first she didn't recognize him, he was so much taller, so much gawkier, than she had seen him last.
"Li Yuan?"
Li Yuan swallowed and then bowed; an awkward, stilted movement that betrayed his unease. When he straightened up and looked at her again she saw his face was scarlet with embarrassment. His lips moved as if he was about to say something, but he had not formed the words when she interrupted him.
"Where is Tao Chu? I was told Tao Chu would be with you."
There were giggles from the trees behind her, and she turned sharply, furious with her maids, then turned back in time to see Li Yuan summon the small boy forward.
"Fei Yen?" said the boy, bowing elegantly like a tiny courtier. Then, in a lilting yet hesitant voice that betrayed his unfamil-iarity with English, he added, "I am most honored to meet you, Lady Fei. My uncle told me you were beautiful, but he did not tell me how beautiful."
She laughed, astonished. "And who have I the pleasure of addressing?"
The boy bowed again, enjoying her astonishment in the same way he had enjoyed the applause of the T'ang earlier that day when he had played Tsu Tiao. "I am Tsu Tao Chu, son of Tsu Wen, and third nephew of the Tang, Tsu Ma."
The fan that she had been waving stopped in midmotion and clicked shut. "Tao Chu?" She laughed—a different, shorter laugh, expressing a very different kind of surprise—then shook her head. "Oh, no. I mean, you can't be. I was told . . ."
Then she understood. She heard the giggling from the trees topple over into laughter. Flushing deeply, she lowered her head slightly. "Tsu Tao Chu. I—I'm delighted to meet you. Forgive me if I seemed confused. I..." Then, forgetting her disappointment, she too burst into laughter.
"What is it?" asked the eight-year-old, delighted that he had somehow managed to amuse this mature woman of nineteen.
"Nothing," she said quickly, fanning herself and turning slightly, so that the shadow of the willow hid her embarrass' ment. "Nothing at all." She turned quickly to Li Yuan, rinding it easier, suddenly, to talk to him. "Li Yuan, forgive me. My father, Yin Tsu, sends his deep regards and best wishes on your forthcoming birthday. I have come on his behalf to celebrate the day."
Li Yuen's smile was unexpectedly warm. Again he bowed, once more coloring from neck to brow. His awkwardness made her remember the last time they had met—that time he had come to her and cried upon her shoulder, four days after Han Ch'in's death. Then, too, his reaction had been unexpected. Then, too, he had seemed to shed a skin.
"I— I—" He stuttered, then looked down, seeming almost to laugh at himself. "Forgive me, Fei Yen. I was not told you were coming."
She gave the slightest bow. "Nor I until this morning."
He looked up at her, a strange expectation in his eyes. "Will you be staying long?"
"A week." She turned and signaled to her maids, who at once came out from beneath the trees and hurried along the path to her. Then, turning back to the two boys, she added, "We had best be getting back, don't you think? They'll be expecting us in the house." And then, before they could answer, she had turned away and was heading back toward the bridge.
Li Yuan stood there a while, watching her go. Only when he turned to speak to Tao Chu did he realize how avidly the boy was studying him.
"What are you staring at, Squib?" he said, almost angrily, conscious that his cheeks were warm for the third time that afternoon.
"At you, Great Yuan," answered Tao Chu with a mock earnestness that made Li Yuan relent. Then, in a softer voice, the small boy added, "You love her, don't you?"
Li Yuan laughed awkwardly then turned and looked back up the path. "What does it matter? She was my brother's wife."
THE OVERSEER'S House dominated the vast plain of the East European plantation. Three tiers high, its roof steeply pitched, it rested on stilts over the meeting point of the two broad irrigation canals that ran north-south and east-west, feeding the great latticework of smaller channels. To the south lay the workers' quarters; long, low huts that seemed embedded in the earth. To the north and east were storehouses; huge, covered reservoirs of grain and rice. West, like a great wave frozen at its point of turning under, lay the City, its walls soaring two U into the heavens.
Now it was late afternoon and the shadow of the Overseer's House lay like a dark, serrated knife on the fields to the east. There, in the shadow, on a bare earth pathway that followed the edge of one of the smaller north-south channels, walked three men. One walked ahead, alone and silent, his head down, his drab brown clothes with their wide, short trousers indicative of his status as field-worker. The two behind him joked and laughed as they went along. Their weapons—lethal deng rifles, "lantern guns"—slung casually over their shoulders. They were more elegantly dressed, the kingfisher blue of their jackets matching the color of the big sky overhead. These were the Overseer's men, Chang Yan and Teng Fu; big, brutal men who were not slow to chastise their workers and beat them if they fell behind with quotas.
"What does he want?" Teng asked, lifting his chin slightly to indicate the man plodding along in front of them, but meaning the Overseer when he said "he." No one requested to see the Overseer. He alone chose who came to see him.
"The man's a thief," said Chang. He spat out into the channel, below and to his left, and watched the off-white round of spittle drift away slowly on the water. Then he looked back at Teng. "One of the patrol cameras caught him in the Frames making harvest."
The Frames were where they grew the special items; strawberries and lychees, pineapples and oranges, grapes and peaches, cherries and almonds, pears and melons.
"Stupid," Teng said, looking down and laughing. "These peasant types—they're all stupid."
Chang shrugged. "I don't know. I thought this one was different. He was supervisor. A trusted man. We'd had no trouble with him before."