Tolonen turned, looking up at the portrait Li Yuan had been studying and gave a small smile of recognition. It was Ch'in Shih Huang Ti, the First Emperor. The unifier of ancient China. The tyrant, so-called. In the portrait he was standing on the shoreline of Shandong, staring out toward the east—to P'eng Lai, the Isle of the Immortals. Tall, bearded, and arrogant, the peach of immortality clutched in his left hand.
"I have been thinking," Li Yuan said, moving past Tolonen to stand beneath the portrait once again. "Trying to see some pattern in the flow of time."
"A pattern, Chieh Hsia?"
"Of what men are, and what they do, and why they never learn."
Tolonen looked down. "Do you really think that's so, my Lord?"
Li Yuan nodded. "I do, Knut. Take our friend here. In many ways he was a great man. A military genius and a visionary administrator, whose actions shaped our land for two thousand years. And yet, as a man, he was ultimately flawed, for he wanted more than life could give him. He wanted to live forever, and that destroyed him. All the good he had done was undone by that. His great empire lasted but a year or so beyond his death."
The young T'ang moved on, his booted footsteps echoing on the tiled floor, until he stood beneath the second of the portraits. Of the five, this was the most famous, for copies of it hung in every deck, at every level of the great earth-spanning City.
"Wen Ti. . ." Li Yuan turned, looking back at Tolonen, a strange, sad smile on his lips. "How many times have you heard old men and schoolboys praise him for his virtue? How many times has his name been used like a charm to castigate an errant child or a poor official? In the history books he is portrayed as a rock, a mountain of a man, as just as he was compassionate, as fair as he was stem, and yet, under his rule, the Middle Kingdom almost faltered. Incursions by the northern barbarians, the Hsiung Nu, twice forced him to make accommodations—to cede land and make huge tributary payments. Why, his capital, Ch'ang-An, almost fell to them! And like Ch'in Shih Huang Ti, only a year or so after his death the empire was in chaos, rebellions sweeping the provinces."
"He did his best, Chieh Hsia . . ."
"Maybe so, Knut, but it gives one pause for thought, neh? Ch'in Shih Huang Ti was a tyrant, yet beneath him the empire thrived. Wen Ti was a good man, yet beneath him the empire suffered. Which, then, should I model myself upon?"
"Is the choice that simple, Chieh Hsia?"
Li Yuan smiled, then moved on to the next painting, looking up at the image of an elegant-looking middle-aged man in golden silks. "No, Knut. It is never that simple. Take the case of Ming Huang here, sixth of the great T'ang emperors. He was a great man. A wise ruler and a powerful warrior. His reign was a golden age, it is said. The great poets and painters of our history—Li Po, Tu Fu, Wang Wei—such men thrived under his rule. It was a time of great culture, of prosperity and peace, and yet all that was destroyed, the empire torn apart by rebellions, and why? Because of his weakness. Because of his infatuation for a woman."
Tolonen looked down, uncomfortable with this sudden turn. "So it was, Chieh Hsia. So history tells us, anyway. But what is your point?"
The young T'ang turned. "My point? Why, that emperors are men, not figureheads or abstract forces, and that what they are shapes the destiny of those they rule. They stretch out a hand and the shadow falls across a continent. So it is. So it has always been. And I, Knut. In what way am I different?"
He turned back, staring up at the handsome features of Ming Huang a moment longer, then, with a small shake of his head, went across to the fourth of the portraits.
"Mao Tse Tung," he said quietly, his eyes taking in the familiar icon. "First of the great Ko Ming emperors. The Great Helmsman himself. Like Ch'in Shih Huang Ti—his idol—Mao could be ruthless and tyrannical. Beneath him, the Middle Kingdom was unified again, all invaders cast out. And yet, like Wen Ti—whose values he tried to overthrow—Mao tried hard in his early years to give the people peace and prosperity, to end corruption and reform the bureaucracy. To make the Middle Kingdom strong and healthy after decades of suffering and neglect. In many ways he seems the perfect balance between the two men. And yet he too was flawed. Flawed by a belief in his own infallibility. In his Great Leap Forward, tens of millions died, Knut. And for what? Simply to prove him wrong."
Tolonen looked down, frowning. "But you are not any of these men, Chieh Hsia. You are yourself. Surely you can learn from their mistakes and be what they were not?"
Li Yuan glanced at the old man questioningly, then turned, making his way across to the last of the five great canvases. For a moment he stood there, staring up at the powerful image of the man his own ancestors had overthrown. Tsao Ch'un. The Tyrant. Founder of the City. Of Chung Kuo itself.
"Coming here, seeing these men, their faces, it makes me wonder. Can I learn from their mistakes? Or am I doomed to take the same path? To go down in history as a weak and foolish man? Or as a tyrant?"
Tolonen went across and stood beside him. "Does it worry you,
Yuan?"
"Worry me?" Li Yuan laughed, then turned, facing his father's General once again. "Yes, Knut. It worries me. But not as others might think. It worries me that my weakness might prove the death of millions. Or that some excess of desire or pride, arrogance or cold-heartedness might turn my face to tyranny. I look at these faces, these giant figures from our past, and I ask myself. Am I strong enough? Wise enough? You said of Wen Ti just now, 'He did his best.' Well, will my best be good enough? Have I, within me, what it takes to mold and shape a world and all its people? Or will ignorance and desire destroy me, as they have destroyed so many in the past? I am determined, yes. But what if determination fails, Knut? What then?"
The old man sniffed deeply, then shrugged, clearly disturbed by the young T'ang's words.
"Never mind. . ." Li Yuan looked down, unclenching his fists and staring at them a moment, as if to comprehend them. Then, as if coming to once more, he looked back up at the old man, his dark, hazel eyes less intense than a moment earlier. "So tell me, Knut. What did you find in my cousin's City?"
"Something strange," Tolonen answered, his voice suddenly clear and resonant. "Something strange and horrible."
IN WHAT HAD ONCE BEEN K'ang A-yin's offices, Soucek stood at ease, waiting to be acknowledged. The place had been redecorated since K'ang's death, a simple elegance replacing K'ang's cheap ostentation. A minute passed, then, finally, Lehmann looked up from the screen on his desk, noted the two men his lieutenant had brought back with him, and nodded.
"Good. Did it go well?"
Soucek sniffed. "I don't think they like us much. But as for our money . . . well, that's a different matter, neh? Money is money, Above as Below."
Lehmann switched off the screen, then came around the table. Ignoring his lieutenant, he studied the two newcomers carefully, reaching out to check the tight, flickering bands about the neck of each. Satisfied, he stepped back.
"Welcome," he said simply. "My name is Stefan Lehmann, and you'll be working for me."
Soucek could see the fear and uncertainty in their faces, just as earlier he had noted their clear disgust at their new surroundings. Lehmann too must have noticed it, for he seemed quick to reassure the men.
"I understand how you're feeling just now. You weren't expecting to come down here, were you?"
They nodded.
"No. Well, I know that what youVe seen so far is pretty bad, but I've had special quarters prepared. Something more like what you're used to."