Wang sat forward, his face suddenly hard. "Forgive me, Cousin, but I do not understand. Since Klaus Ebert's death, this matter has been brought before this Council twice. On both occasions there was a unanimous agreement to postpone. For good reason, for no solution to the problem was forthcoming. But now we have the answer. Hou Tung-po's proposal is the solution we were looking for."
Tsu Ma's laugh was heavily sardonic. "You call that a solution, Cousin? It sounds to me like a bureaucratic nightmare—a recipe not for stability but for certain financial disaster."
Hou Tung-po sat forward, his face red with anger, but Wang's raised hand silenced him.
"Had this matter not been raised before, Tsu Ma, and were there not already a satisfactory solution before us—one you will have a full opportunity to debate—I would understand your desire to look for other answers, but the time for delay is past. As I was saying, we must act now or see the Company damaged, perhaps irreparably."
Wang paused, looking to Wei Feng, appealing to the old man directly. As things stood, Hou Tung-po and Chi Ling would support Wang, while Tsu Ma and Wu Shih would line up behind Li Yuan. If it came to a fight, Wei Feng held the casting vote.
Wang smiled, softening his stance.
"Besides, what objections could my cousins possibly have to the idea of a ruling committee? Would that not give us each a fair say in the running of the Company? Would that not demonstrate—more clearly than anything—that the Seven have full confidence in the continuing prosperity of GenSyn?"
Li Yuan looked away. Although in terms of holdings it was second to the giant MedFac Company on the Hang Seng Index, GenSyn was, without doubt, the single most important commercial concern on Chung Kuo, and as Tsu Ma had rightly said, any weakening of the Company would affect him far more than it did Wang Sau'Ieyan.
But that could not be said. Not openly. For to say as much would give Wang the chance to get back at Li Yuan for his family's special relationship with GenSyn—a relationship that, though it had existed for a century or more, was, in truth, against the spirit of the Seven.
Li Yuan sat back, meeting Tsu Ma's eyes. They would have to give way. Minister Sheng had been their winning card, and Wang had already taken him from their hand.
"Cousin Wang," he said coldly. "I concede. Let us adopt Cousin Hou's proposal. As you say, what possible objection could we have to such a scheme?"
He drew a breath, finding comfort in the presence of the silk-bound folder in his lap—in the thought of the humiliation he would shortly inflict on Wang. Then— from nowhere, it seemed—a new thought came to him. He leaned forward again, the sheer outrageousness of the idea making him want to laugh aloud.
"Indeed," he said softly, "let me make my own proposal. If the Council permits, I would like to suggest that Marshal Tolonen be replaced in his high post and appointed as Head of the ruling committee of GenSyn." He looked at Wang directly. "As my cousin argued so eloquently, we need to boost the market's confidence, and what clearer sign could we give than to make a man of such experience and integrity the head of our committee?"
He saw the movement in Wang's face and knew he had him. Wang could object, of course, but on what grounds? On the unsuitability of the candidate? No. For to argue that would be to argue that their original ratification of Tolonen as Marshal had been wrong, and that he could not—would not—do.
Li Yuan looked about him, seeing the nods of agreement from all sides—even from Wang's own allies—and knew he had succeeded in limiting the damage. With Tolonen in charge there was a much greater chance of things getting done. It would mean a loss of influence in the Council of Generals, but that was as nothing beside the potential loss of GenSyn's revenues.
He met Wang's eyes, triumphant, but Wang had not finished.
"I am delighted that my cousin recognizes the urgency of this matter. However, I am concerned whether my cousin really means what he says. It would not, after all,
be the first time that he has promised this Council something, only to go back on his word."
Li Yuan started forward, outraged by Wang's words. All around him there was a buzz of astonishment and indignation. But it was Wei Feng who spoke first, his deeply lined face grown stern and rocklike as he sat stiffly upright in his chair. His gruff voice boomed, all sign of frailty gone from it.
"You had best explain yourself, Wang Sau-leyan, or withdraw your words."
"No ?" Wang stood in a flurry of silks, looking about him defiantly. "Nor would you have, Cousin, had there not been good reason. I am talking of Li Yuaris promise to this Council that he would release the young sons—a promise that my cousins Wu Shih and Tsu Ma were also party to." He shifted his bulk, looking about the circle of his fellow T'ang. "It is six months since they gave that promise and what has happened? Are the sons back with their fathers? Is the matter resolved, the grievance of those high citizens settled? No. The fathers remain unappeased, rightfully angry that after we gave our word their sons remain imprisoned."
Li Yuan stood, facing Wang. "There is good reason why the sons have not been released, and you know it."
"Know it?" Wang laughed contemptuously. "All I know is that you gave your word. Immediately, you said."
"And so it would have been had the paperwork gone smoothly."
"Paperwork . . . ?" Wang's mocking laughter goaded Wu Shih to rise and stand beside Li Yuan, his fists clenched, his face livid.
"You know as well as any of us why there have been delays, Wang Sau-leyan! Considering the gravity of the circumstances, the terms of release were laughable. All we asked of the fathers was that they should sign a bond of good behavior. It was > the very minimum we could have asked for, and yet they refused, quibbling over the i wording of the papers."
"With every right, if what I've heard is true . . ."
Wu Shih bristled, his words like acid now. "And what have you heard, Cousin?|
Wang Sau-leyan half turned away, then turned back, moving a step closer, face thrust almost into Wu Shih's. "That your officials have been obstructive, it has been your officials and not the fathers who have quibbled over the precise" wording of these . . . bonds. That they have dragged their heels and delayed until even the best man's patience would be frayed. That they have found every excuse— however absurd—not to come to terms. In short, that they have been ordered to delay matters."
"Ordered?" Wu Shih shuddered with rage, then lifted his hand as if to strike Wang, but Li Yuan put out his arm, coming between them.
"Cousins," he said urgently, "let us remember where we are." He turned his head, staring fiercely at Wang. "We will achieve nothing by hurling insults at each other."
"You gave your word," Wang said, defiantly, meeting his eyes coldly. "All three of you. Immediately, you said. Without conditions." He took a breath, then turned away, taking his seat.
Wu Shih glared at Wang a moment longer, then stepped back, his disgust at his cousin no longer concealed. Li Yuan stood there, looking about him, feeling the tensions that flowed like electric currents in the air about him and knew—for the first time knew beyond all doubt—that this was a breach that could never be healed. He took his seat again, leaning down to lift the folder from where it had fallen.
"Wang Sau-leyan," he began, looking across at his moon-faced cousin, calm now that he had taken the first step. "There is a small matter I would like to raise before we continue. A matter of... etiquette." Wang Sau-leyan smiled. "As you wish, Cousin."
Li Yuan opened the folder, looking down at the wafer-thin piece of black plastic. It was the template of a hologrammic image: the image of Wang Sau-leyan in the garden at Tao Yuan, meeting with Li Yuan's bondsman, Hsiang Shao-erh. There were other things in the folder—a taped copy of their conversation and the testimony of Wang's Master of the Royal Household, Sun Li Hua, but it was the holo that was the most damning piece of evidence.