"Good. In the circumstances I fine you each five hundred yuan for wasting the time of this tribunal." He looked at the two men sternly, "if I hear any more of this matter I shall have you before us again. And that, I guarantee you, chun tzu, will be to neither of your likings."
The two "gentlemen" bowed deeply and thanked the court, then went meekly to the clerk to pay their fines.
T'ai Cho turned to his pupil. "Well, Kim? Do you still think the Han way so bad?"
Kim looked down, embarrassed. T'ai Cho's discovery had made things difficult between them. It would have been easier had he been able to say, No. I did not invent the world you read about, but sometimes the truth was stranger than a lie and far harder to accept.
"I have never thought the Han way a bad way, T'ai Cho. Whatever you believe, I find you a highly civilized people."
T'ai Cho stared at him a moment, then shrugged and looked back down into the body of the hall. The crowd had dispersed now and only the five elders remained, talking among themselves and tying up any remaining items of business. T'ai Cho considered a moment, then smiled and looked back at Kim.
"There are no prisons in Chung Kuo. Did you realize that, Kim? If a man wishes to behave badly he may do so, but not among those who wish to behave well. Such a man must find his own level. He is demoted."
He paused, then nodded to himself. "It is a humane system,
Kim. The most severe penalties are reserved for crimes against the person. We might be traders, but our values are not wholly venal."
Kim sighed. It was a direct reference to something in the file— to the greedy and corrupt Hoi Po, or Hoppos, as the Europeans knew them, who had run the Canton trade in the nineteenth century. He had not meant his comment to stand for all the Han, but saw how T'ai Cho could easily mistake it for such.
Damn Matyas! he thought. And damn the man who left the files for me to find and piece together!
T'ai Cho continued. "There are exceptions, naturally. Treason against the T'ang, for instance, is punishable by death. The traitor and all his family, to the third generation. But ours is a fair system, Kim. It works for those who wish it to work. For others there are other levels of existence. In Chung Kuo a man must find his own level. Is that not fair?"
He was tempted to argue, to ask whether it was fair for those born into the Net, or into the Clay like himself, but after all the damage he had done with the file he felt it would be churlish to disagree. He looked past T'ai Cho at the elders. "What I saw today. That seemed fair, T'ai Cho." T'ai Cho looked at Kim and smiled. It was not a full capitulation, but still, there was good in the boy. A great deal of good. When he smiled, for instance, it was such a fierce, sincere smile—a smile from the very depths of him. T'ai Cho sniffed and nodded to himself. He realized now he had taken it too personally. Yes, he understood it now. Kim had been talking of systems. Of philosophies. He had let the abstract notion carry him away. Even so, he had been wrong.
"About the files, Kim. I had to tell the Director." Kim looked across at him, his eyes narrowed. "And?" T'ai Cho lowered his head. "And he has ordered their destruction, I'm afraid. We must forget they ever were. Understand?" Kim laughed, then bowed his head. "I am ordered to forget?" Tai Cho looked up at him, sudden understanding in his eyes. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. "Why, yes. I never thought. . ."
Forget, Kim thought, then laughed again, a deep, hearty laughter. As if I could forget.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Scent of Plum Blossom
THE BIG MAN came at Chen like an automaton, swinging and punching, kicking and butting, making Chen duck and bob and jump to evade the furious rain-of blows. Back and back he was pushed until his shoulders thudded painfully against the wall. He ducked, then kicked off from the wall, head first, aiming for the stomach of the big man. But he was too slow. The big man parried him, linking both hands to form a shield and thrust him down onto the floor. Then, before Chen could get his breath, he was yanked up by one huge hand and pinned against the wall.
Chen chopped down against the arm desperately, but it was like hitting an iron bar. The arm quivered but held him firm. Chen swallowed and met the big man's eyes, conscious of the power there, the control.
The big man drew back his free arm, his fist forming a phoenix eye—a feng huang yen ching—the knuckle of the first finger extended, ready to strike and shatter Chen's skull.
Chen closed his eyes, then laughed. "It's no good, my friend. I have no counter to your strength and skill."
Karr held him there a moment longer, his fist poised as if to strike, then relaxed, letting Chen slide down onto the floor again.
"Then we must work at it until you do."
Chen squatted on his haunches, getting his breath. He looked up at Karr, smiling now. "I can't see why. There's only one of you, Shih Karr. And you're on my side. For which I thank the gods."
Karr's sternness evaporated. "Maybe now, Chen, but one day they'll make machines like me. I guarantee it. Things like those copies that came from Mars. Even now, I'd warrant, they're working on them somewhere. I'd rather find an answer now than wait for them to come, wouldn't you, Kao Chen?"
They had spent the morning working out extensively, first with stick and sword and spear—kuai chang shu, too shu, and ch'iang shu—then with their bare hands, concentrating on the "Hand of the Wind"—feng shou kung fu—style that Karr favored. It was the first time the two men had seen each other in several months and they had enjoyed the friendly tussle, but Kan-had not asked Chen here simply to polish his skills.
After they had showered they sat in the refectory, a large jug of hot sweet almond ch'a on the table between them—a delicacy Chen's wife, Wang Ti, had introduced them to.
"How is young Jyan?" Karr asked. "I've meant to visit, but the Tang has kept me busy these past months."
Chen smiled and bowed his head slightly, but his eyes lit at the mention of his son. "Jyan is well. Only four and already he knows all the stances. You should see how well he executes the kou shift. Such balance he has! And when he kicks he really kicks! You should see the bruises on my legs!"
Karr laughed. "And Wang Ti?"
Chen looked down, his smile broadening. "Wang Ti is Wang Ti. Like the sun, she is there each morning. Like the moon she shines brilliantly at night."
Again the big man laughed, then grew quiet. "I hear you have news, Chen. The very best of news."
Chen looked up, surprised, then smiled broadly. "Who told you, Shih Karr? Who ruined my moment? I wanted to tell you myself!"
Karr tilted his head. "Well. . . let's just say I heard, eh? You know me, Chen. There's little that escapes my notice."
"Or your grasp!"
Both men laughed.
"Anyway," said Karr, lifting his bowl in salute, "here's to your second child! May he be strong and healthy!"
Chen raised his bowl. "Thank you, my friend." He sipped, then looked directly at Karr. "This is very pleasant, Shih Karr. We do this too little these days. But tell me, why am I here? Is there a job for me? Something you want me to do?"
Karr smiled. "There might be."
"Might be? Why only might?"
The big man looked down, then reached across and filled his bowl again. "IVe a lead on DeVore. I think I know where he is."
Chen laughed, astonished. "DeVore? We've found him?"
"Maybe. I've trailed him three years since he evaded us at Nanking spaceport. Three years, Chen. I've tracked down eight of the ten men who helped him get away that day, but not one of them knew a thing, not one of them helped me get a fraction closer to the man I wanted. But now things have changed—now I think I have him."
Chen frowned. "Then what's the problem? Why don't you just go in and finish him off?"