Sullenly, glaring back at Ywe Hao, Edel left the circle and walked slowly across the factory floor, stopping only in the brightness of the doorway at the far end to look back, as if to say it wasn't over yet.
When he'd gone, Mach signaled to one of the men at his side to follow Edel. "Best do it now, Klaus. Veda's warning will have no effect on him. He is past reasoning."
The man nodded, then ran across the dark floor, following Edel, his knife already drawn. Mach turned, facing Ywe Hao.
"I'm sorry, Chi Li. This has been a sad day for us all."
But Ywe Hao was watching the man disappear in pursuit of Edel and asking herself if her lie had been worth the life of another man; if this baiter, his life for hers, could in any way be justified. And as if in answer, she saw Leyden again, standing there, terrified, facing Edel's brother, the man she had only known as Vasska, and knew she had been right to spare the guard and kill her comrade. As right as she had been in killing Shou Chen-hai.
The woman Veda came and stood by her, taking her hand, her words soft, comforting. "It's all right, Chi Li. It wasn't your fault."
But the thing was, she had enjoyed killing Vasska. Had wanted to kill him. And ^nd^dMat:±ngc.ose, turn,, her to face him, "I have another task for you Ve's a place the younger sons use. A place called the Dragonfly Club . . ."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dragonflies
THE PAVILION of Elegant Sound rested on a great spur of pale rock, the delicately carved tips of its six sweeping gables spread out like the arms of white-robed giants raised in supplication to Heaven. To either side, twin bridges spanned the ravine, the ancient wood of the handrails worn smooth like polished jade by a million pilgrims' hands.
A dark, lush greenery covered the flank of Mount Emei surrounding the ancient building, filtering the early morning sunlight; while below, long, twisted limbs of rock reached down to a shadowed gorge, their dark, eroded forms slick with the spray of the two tiny falls that met in a frenzy of mist and whiteness at their foot. Farther out, a great heart-shaped rock, as black as night itself, sat peacefully amid the chill, crystal-clear flow.
Standing at the low wooden balustrade, Li Yuan looked down into the waters. For more than a thousand years travelers had stopped here on their long journey up the sacred mountain, to rest and contemplate the perfection of this place. Here two rivers met, the black dragon merging with the white, forming a swirl of dark and light—a perfect, natural tai ch'i.
He turned and looked across at his host. Tsu Ma stood by the table on the far side of the pavilion, pouring wine. They were alone here, the nearest servants five hundred ch'i distant, guarding the approaches. From the gorge below came the melodious sound of the falls, from the trees surrounding them the sweet, fluting calls of wild birds. Li Yuan breathed in deeply, inhaling the heady scent of pine and cypress, cinnamon and paulownia, that filled the air. It was beautifuclass="underline" a place of perfect harmony and repose. He smiled. It was like Tsu Ma to choose such a place for their meeting.
Tsu Ma came across, handing Li Yuan one of the cups. For a moment he stood there, looking out past Li Yuan at the beauty of the gorge, then turned to face him, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Life is good, neh, Yuan?"
Li Yuan's smile broadened. "Here one might dream of an older, simpler age."
Tsu Ma grunted. "Things have never been simple for those who have to rule. Some problems are eternal, neh? Why, it is said that even the great Hung Wu, founder of the Ming Dynasty, slept poorly at night. Population pressures, famines, civil unrest, the corruption of ministers, court intrigues, the ambitions of rivals— these were as much his problems as they are ours. Nor was he much more successful at solving them."
Li Yuan frowned. "Then you think we should do nothing?"
"On the contrary. As T'ang, it is our purpose in this life to attempt the impossible—to try to impose some kind of order on the chaos of this world. There would be no justification for our existence were it not so. And where would we be then?"
Li Yuan laughed, then took a sip of the pale yellow wine, growing serious again. "And in Council tomorrow? How are we to play that?"
Tsu Ma smiled. Tomorrow's was an important meeting; perhaps the most important since Li Shai Tung's death nine months earlier. "With regard to GenSyn, I think you are right, Yuan. Wang Sau-leyan's proposal must be opposed. His idea of a governing committee of seven—one member appointed by each T'ang—while fair in principle, would prove unworkable in practice. Wang's appointment would be but a front for his own guiding hand. He would seize upon the slightest excuse— the most petty of internal divisions on policy—to use his veto. It would have the effect of closing GenSyn down; and as few of GenSyn's facilities are based in City Africa, our cousin would escape relatively unscathed, while you would be harmed greatly. Which is why I shall support your counterproposal of a single independent stewardship."
"And my candidate?"
Tsu Ma smiled. "I can see no reason why Wang should object to Wei Feng's man Sheng, taking charge. No. It's the perfect choice. Wang would not dare suggest that Minister Sheng is unsuited for the post." He laughed, delighted. "Why, i would be tantamount to a slur on Sheng's master, the T'ang of East Asia! And even our moon-faced cousin would not dare risk that."
Li Yuan joined in Tsu Ma's laughter, but deep down he was not so sure. Wang Sau-leyan made much of his power to offend. His sense of Hsiao—of filial submission—was weak. If the man had dared to have his father killed, his brother driven to suicide, what else might he not do? And yet the question of GenSyn was the least of the items that were to be discussed. As Tsu Ma knew, Li Yuan was prepared to concede ground in this instance if Wang in his turn would give way on more important matters.
"Do you think the balance of Council will be against us on the other measures?"
Tsu Ma stared into his cup, then shrugged. "It is hard to say. I have tried to sound Wu Shih and Wei Feng on the question of the proposed changes, but they have been strangely reticent. On any other matter—even the reopening of the House— I think we could guarantee their support, but on this I am afraid they see things differently."
Li Yuan huffed, exasperated. Without those concessions provided by the changes to the Edict and the reopening of the House, there was no chance of striking a deal with the Above over population controls. The three items worked as a package or not at all. The Edict changes were the sweetener in the package, creating new prosperity and new opportunity for the merchant classes; whereas the reopening of the House would not only satisfy the growing call for proper representation of the Above in government but also provide the vehicle for the passage of new laws. Laws controlling the number of children a man might have. Laws that the Seven might find it difficult to implement without Above support.
Tsu Ma looked at Yuan ruefully, knowing what he was thinking. "And the perversity of it is that Wang Sau-leyan will oppose us not because he disagrees— after all, he has made it quite clear that he would like to see changes to the Edict, the House reopened—but because it is his will to oppose us."
Li Yuan nodded. "Maybe so. But there is something else, Cousin Ma. Something I have not mentioned before now."
Tsu Ma smiled, intrigued, conscious of a darker tone in Yuan's voice. "Which is?"
Li Yuan laughed quietly, but his expression was somber, almost regretful. "First fill my cup, then I will tell you a tale about a nobleman and a T'ang and a scheme they have hatched to make all plans of mine mere idle talk."
IT WAS ALL much dirtier than she remembered it. Dirtier and more crowded. Ywe Hao stood there, her back to the barrier, and breathed out slowly. Two boys, no taller than her knee, stood beside her, looking up at her. Their faces were black with dirt, their heads covered in sores and stubble. Their small hands were held up to her, palms open, begging. They said nothing, but their eyes were eloquent. Even so, she shooed them from her, knowing that to feed two would bring a hundred more.