One of the older men—a peasant in his late forties or fifties, his face deeply tanned and creased—stepped forward. "You cannot stop it," he said in a clipped but clear English. "Watch. They will summon some of us. They will make us form a circle. Then the punishment will begin." He sighed resignedly. "It is their way."
On the far side of the field the shouting had stopped now and he could see Pavel, his arm held tightly by one of the men, his head bowed under the coolie hat.
"Shit!" he said under his breath. But the old man was right. He could not afford to get involved; nor, probably, would his involvement change anything. He was a field-worker here, not kwai, and his job was to get at DeVore. He could not risk that, even to prevent this injustice.
The bigger of the two guards—the one Pavel had identified as Teng—strode out toward them. He stopped and, hands on his hips, ordered a number of them over to the water wagon.
Chen felt sick. This was his fault. But he could do nothing.
Pavel did not look at him. It was clear he had chosen not to say why he had gone to the wagon. Without being told, the ku—the field-workers—formed a circle about the youth and the two guards. There was an awful silence. Chen looked around the circle and saw how most of them looked down or away, anything but look at what was happening at the circle's heart.
Teng's voice barked out again. "This man was disobedient. He knew the rules and yet he broke them." He laughed; a curt, brutal laughter. "He was stupid. Now he will be punished for his stupidity."
Teng drew the long club from his belt and turned to face Pavel. Chang smiled and thrust the young man forward at his fellow.
Without warning Teng lashed out, the club hitting Pavel on the back of the legs, making him fall down. The sound the boy made was awful; a frightened whimper.
Chen shuddered and gritted his teeth.
Teng stood over the youth now, smiling down at him. "Get up, Pavel. It's not over yet."
Slowly, his eyes never leaving Teng's face, Pavel got to his feet again. Teng's smile never wavered, but seemed to burn fiercely. It was clear he was enjoying himself hugely. He looked down at the club, then let fly again, this time catching Pavel across the side of the head.
The boy went down with a groan of pain. Chen could feel the indignation ripple about the circle. But still they were all silent. No one moved. No one did a thing.
Teng put the tip of the club against the young man's head and pushed gently, making him fall backward. Then he looked across at his fellow guard.
"Chang! Pass me the rod!"
This time there was a low murmur from the circle. Teng turned, looking from face to face, then laughed. "If there's anyone else who'd like a taste of this, just say. I'd be delighted to oblige them."
Chang went across to him and took the club from him, handing him a long, thin pole that was attached by a wire to a small box. Teng clipped the box to pne of his jacket pockets, then pressed a button on the side of the rod. It hissed wickedly.
Teng looked across at Pavel. "Drop your trousers, boy!"
Chen saw Pavel swallow awkwardly. The youth was petrified. His fingers fumbled at the strings that held up his trousers, then managed to untie the knot. Then he stood, his head drooping, letting his trousers fall around his ankles.
Under the trousers he was quite naked. He trembled uncontrollably. His penis had shriveled up with fear.
Teng looked at him and laughed. "We're a fine big boy, aren't we, Pavel? No wonder weVe no girlfriend yet!" Again his brutal laugh rang out. Then, cruelly, he touched the rod against the tip of the boy's penis.
Pavel jerked back, but Teng had not activated the rod.
Teng looked across at Chang and both men laughed loudly at the joke. Then Teng pressed the button and thrust the rod into the young man's groin. Pavel doubled up convulsively, then lay there as if dead. Teng must have had the rod set high, for the smell of burnt flesh was suddenly sharp in the warm, still air.
"You dirty bastard!"
The words came from Chen's left. He turned and saw it was the old man who had spoken to him earlier.
Teng had also turned and was looking at the man. "What is it, Fang Hui? You want to join the fun?"
Chang's voice sounded urgently from behind Teng. "Use the club, Teng Fu. The rod will kill the old fool."
But Teng wasn't listening. He walked slowly across to the old man and stood there, facing him, head and shoulders bigger than he.
"What did you say, old man? What did you call me?"
Fang Hui smiled bleakly. "You heard me, Teng."
Teng laughed. "Yes, I heard you, Fang." He reached forward and grabbed the man's face in one hand, forcing his mouth open, then thrust the rod inside, closing Fang Hui's teeth upon it. Then he moved his hand away. One finger hovered above the button of the box.
"You'd like a taste of this, Fang Hui?"
Fang's eyes were wide with terror. Slowly Teng withdrew the rod from the old man's mouth, a sadistic smile of enjoyment lighting his big ugly features.
"A good peasant is a quiet peasant, eh, Fang?"
The old man nodded exaggeratedly.
"Good," Teng said quietly, then kicked out, sending Fang sprawling.
The old man lay there, gasping. Chen looked across at him, relieved he had come to no greater harm, then turned and looked back at Teng.
It had been hard. Hard not to add his voice to Fang Hui's. Harder still just to stand there in the circle and do nothing. Pavel was stirring now. He lifted his head from the ground and looked up, his eyes unfocused, then let it fall back again.
Chang stepped up behind him, a cup of water in one hand, and poured it over the youth's head. "Is this what you came for, Pavel?" His action brought guffaws of laughter from the watching Teng.
Yes, thought Chen. I may have done nothing here today, but watch me, Teng. Be careful how you treat me. For I've every reason to kill you now for what youVe done.
He thought of what Pavel had told him of the murders and knew now it was more than rumor. It was what had happened. He was sure of it.
Yes. Every reason.
THE SOUND of laughter carried from the garden into the house through the wide, open doorway. Outside the morning was bright and warm; inside, where Li Yuan sat with his eight-year-old nephew Tsu Tao Chu, it was cooler and in shadow.
They were playing wei chi, practicing openings and corner plays, but Li Yuan seemed distracted. He kept looking out into the garden where the maids were playing ball.
The younger boy's high, singsong voice broke the silence that had lain between them for some time. "Your heart's not in this, is it, Yuan? It's a lovely morning. Why don't we go riding instead?"
Li Yuan turned and looked at him. "I'm sorry, Tao Chu. What did you say?"
"I said . . ." He laughed sweetly, then leaned forward conspir-atorially. "Tell me, Yuan. Which one is it?"
Li Yuan blushed and set a white stone down. "I don't know what you mean, Tao Chu."
Tao Chu raised his eyebrows, then placed a black stone on the board, removing the six white captives he had surrounded.
"I thought Fei Yen was your sweetheart, Yuan. It's clear, though, that some other maiden has won your heart. Or if not your heart—"
"Tao Chu!" Li Yuan looked down at the board and saw the position was lost, his forces disrupted. He laughed. "Is it so obvious?"
Tao Chu busied himself removing the stones and returning them to the bowls, then set the situation up anew. He looked up. "Again?"
Li Yuan shook his head. Then he stood up and went over to the open doorway. The maids were out beyond the ornamental pool, playing catch with a ball of stitched silk. He watched them for a while, his eyes going time and again to Pearl Heart. At first he didn't think she'd seen him, but then he saw her pick up the ball and turn, looking directly at him; her smile holding a special meaning, for him alone.