Later, after eating, they sat and talked. Of things that had happened long ago, in her childhood; of happier, simpler times, when it had seemed enough simply to be alive. And if their talk steered a course about the darker things—those great unmentionables that lay like jagged rocks in the flow of time—that was understandable, for why destroy the moment's happiness? Why darken the waters with the stain of ancient agonies?
For a time, it seemed almost as though the long years of parting had not happened; that this day and the last were stitched together like points on a folded cloth. But when, finally, she left them, promising to return, she knew at last that there was no returning. She had gone beyond this, to a place where even a mother's love could not keep her.
Looking back at Main she saw the changes everywhere. Time had injured this place, and there seemed no way to heal it. Best then to tear it down. Level by level. Maybe then they would have a chance. Once they had rid themselves of Cities.
Shivering, more alone now than she had been for many years, she turned from it and stepped into the transit, going up, away from her past.
the DARK, heart-shaped ROCK was embedded deep in the earth beneath the pool, like the last tooth in an ancient's jaw. Its surface was scored and pitted, darker in places than in others, its long flank, where it faced the Pavilion, smoother than those that faced away; like a dark, polished glass, misted by the spray from the tiny falls. At its foot the cold, clear waters of the pool swirled lazily over an uneven surface of rock, converting the white-water turbulence of the two rivers' convergence into a single, placid flow.
From the rock one could see the two figures in the Pavilion; might note their gestures and hear the murmur of their words beneath the hiss and rush of the falling water. Tsu Ma was talking now, his hand moving to his mouth every so often, a thin thread of dark smoke rising in the air. He seemed intensely agitated, angered even, and his voice rose momentarily, carrying over the sound of the falls.
"It is all very well knowing, Yuan, but how will you get proof? If this is true, it is most serious. Wang Sau-leyan must be called to account for this. His conduct is outrageous! Unacceptable!"
Li Yuan turned to face his fellow T'ang. "No, Cousin Ma. Think what damage it would do to confront Wang openly with this matter. At best he might be forced to abdicate, and that would leave us with the problem of a successor—a problem that would make the GenSyn inheritance question a mere trifle, and the gods know that is proving hard enough! At worst he might defy us. If he did, and Hou Tung-po and Chi Hsing backed him, we could find ourselves at war among ourselves."
"That cannot be."
"No. But for once the threat to expose Wang might prove more potent than the actuality. If so, we might still use this to our benefit."
Tsu Ma sniffed. "You mean, as a bargaining counter?"
Li Yuan laughed; a hard, clear laughter. "Nothing so subtle. I mean we blackmail the bastard. Force him to give us what we want."
"And if he won't?"
"He will. Like us all, he enjoys being a T'ang. Besides, he knows he is too weak, his friends in Council unprepared for such a war. Oh, he will fight if we push him to it, but only if he must. Meanwhile he plays his games and bides his time, hoping to profit from our failures, to build his strength while eroding ours. But this once he has overstretched himself. This once we have him."
Tsu Ma nodded. "Good! But how do you plan to use this knowledge?"
Li Yuan looked outward, his face hardening to a frown of concentration. "First we must let things take their course. Hsiang Shao-erh meets with our cousin Wang on his estate in Tao Yuan an hour from now. My friend in Wang's household will be there at that meeting. By tonight I will know what transpired. And tomorrow, after Council, we can confront Wang Sau-leyan with what we know. That is, if we need to. If we haven't already achieved what we want by other, more direct means."
"And your. . . friend? Will he be safe? Don't you think Wang might suspect there is a spy in his household?"
Li Yuan laughed. "That is the clever part. I have arranged to have Hsiang Shao-erh arrested on his return home. It will seem as if he had . . . volunteered the information. As, indeed, he will."
Tsu Ma nodded thoughtfully. "Good. Then let us get back. All this talking has given me an appetite."
Li Yuan smiled, then looked about him, conscious once more of the beauty of the shadowed gorge, the harmony of tree and rock and water. And yet that beauty was somehow insufficient. It wasn't enough to set his soul at peace. Too much was happening inside. No. He could not break the habit of his being; could not free himself from the turmoil of his thoughts and let himself lapse into the beauty of the day.
He grasped the smooth wood of the rail, looking out at the great heart-shaped rock that rested, so solid and substantial, at the center of the flow, and felt a tiny tremor pass through him. This place, the morning light, gave him a sense of great peace, of oneness with things, and yet, at the same time, he was filled with a seething mass of fears and expectations and hopes. And these, coursing like twin streams in his blood, made him feel odd, distanced from himself. To be so at rest and yet to feel such impatience, was that not strange? And yet, was that not the condition of all things? Was that not what the great Tao taught? Maybe, but it was rare to feel it so intensely in the blood.
Like a dragonfly hovering above the surface of a stream.
Tsu Ma was watching him from the bridge. "Yuan? Are you coming?"
Li Yuan turned, momentarily abstracted from the scene, then with the vaguest nod, he moved from the rail, following his friend.
And maybe peace never came. Maybe, like life, it was all illusion, as the ancient Buddhists claimed. Or maybe it was himself. Maybe it was his own life that was out of balance. On the bridge he turned, looking back, seeing how the great swirl of white drifted out into the black, how its violent energy was stilled and channeled by the rock.
Then he turned back, walking on through the shadow of the trees, the dark image of the rock embedded at the center of his thoughts.
IT was midday and the sky over Northern Hunan was the cloudless blue of early spring. In the garden of the palace at Tao Yuan, Wang Sau-leyan sat on a tall throne, indolently picking from the bowls of delicacies on the table at his side while he listened to the man who stood, head bowed, before him.
The throne was mounted on an ancient sedan, the long arms carved like rearing dragons, the thick base shaped like a map of the ancient Middle Kingdom, back before the world had changed. Wang had had them set him down at the very heart of the garden, the elegant whiteness of the three-tiered Pagoda of Profound Significance to his right, the stream, with its eight gently arching bridges, partly concealed beyond a stand of ancient junipers to his left.
To one side Sun Li Hua, newly promoted to Master of the Royal Household, stood in the shadow of the junipers, his arms folded into his powder-blue sleeves, his head lowered, waiting to do his Master's bidding.
The man who stood before Wang was a tall, elegant-looking Han in his mid-fifties. He was wearing expensive dark-green silks embroidered with flowers and butterflies; unfashionable, traditional clothes that revealed he was of the Twenty-Nine, the Minor Families. His name was Hsiang Shao-erh and he was Head of the Hsiang Family of City Europe, Li Yuan's bondsman—his blood vassal. But today he was here, speaking to his Master's enemy. Offering him friendship. And more . . .
For an hour Hsiang had prevaricated; had talked of many things, but never of the one thing he had come to raise. Now, tiring of his polite evasions, Wang Sau-leyan looked up, wiping his fingers on a square of bright red silk as he spoke.