Yuan knew the story well. Every child did. But he let his father talk, finding it strange that only now should they reach this point of intimacy between them; now when things were darkest, his own life blighted by the failure of his dreams, his father's by ill health.
"Three lines of three figures were marked out there on the shell, as plain as could be seen, the yin numbers in the corners, the yang numbers in the center, and each line—horizontal, vertical, and diagonal—adding up to fifteen. Of course, it was hailed at once as a magic square, as a sign that supernatural powers were at work in the world. But we know better, eh, Yuan? We know there are no magic charms to aid us in our troubles, only our reason and our will. And if they fail . . ."
Li Shai Tung heaved a sigh, then sat heavily on the great saddle of the shell. He looked up at his son wearily.
"But what is the answer, Yuan? What might we do that wre have not already done?"
Li Yuan looked across at his father, his eyes narrowed. "Cast oracles?"
The T'ang laughed softly. "Like our forefathers, eh?"
The old man looked away; stared down into the depths of the pool. Beyond him the moon was framed within the darkness of the window. The night was perfect, like the velvet worn about the neck of a young girl.
"I hoped for peace, Yuan. Longed for it. But. . ." He shook his head.
"What then, Father? What should we do?"
"Do?" Li Shai Tung laughed; a soft, unfamiliar sound. "Prepare ourselves, Yuan. That's all. Take care our friends are true. Sleep only when we're safe."
It was an uncharacteristically vague answer.
Yuan looked down, then broached the subject he had been avoiding all evening. "Are you well, Father? I had heard—"
"Heard? Heard what?" Li Shai Tung turned, his tone suddemly sharp, commanding. Li Yuan almost smiled, but checked himself, knowing his (father's eagle eye was on him.
"Only that you were not your best, Father. No more than thiat. Headaches. Mild stomach upsets. But do not be angry with me. A son should Ibe concerned for his father's health."
Li Shai Tung grunted. "Not my best, eh? Well, that's true of us all after thirty. We're never again at our best." He was silent a moment, thenx turned, tapping his cane against the tiled floor. "Maybe that's true of all things—that they're never at their best after a while. Men and the things men build."
"Particulars, father. Particulars."
The old man stared at him a moment, then nodded. "So I've always lectured you, Yuan. You learn well. You always did. You were always suited! for this."
There was a long silence between them. Han Ch'in's death lay there in that silence; cold, heavy, unmentionable, a dark stone of grief in the guts of each that neither had managed to pass.
"And Fei Yen?"
It was the first time his father had mentioned the separation. The matter was not yet public knowledge.
Li Yuan sighed. "It's still the same."
There was real pain in his Li Shai Tung's face. "You should command her, Yuan. Order her to come home."
Li Yuan shook his head, controlling what he felt. "With great respect, Father, I know what's best in this. She hates me. I know that now. To have her in my home would . . . would weaken me."
Li Shai Tung was watching his son closely, his shoulders slightly hunched. "Ah . . ." He lifted his chin. "I did not know that, Yuan. I..." Again he sighed. "I'm sorry, Yuan, but the child. What of the child?"
Li Yuan swallowed, then raised his head again, facing the matter squarely. "The child is not mine. Fei Yen was unfaithful to me. The child belongs to another man."
The old man came closer, came around the pool and stood facing his son."You know this for certain?"
"No, but I know it. Fei Yen herself—"
"No. I don't mean 'know it' in some vague sense, I mean know; it, for good and certain." His voice had grown fierce, commanding once more. "This is important, Yuan. I'm surprised at you. You should have seen to this."
Li Yuan nodded. It was so, but he had not wanted to face it. Had not wanted to know for good and certain. He had been quite happy accepting her word.
"You must go to her and offer her divorce terms, Yuan. At once. But you will make the offer conditional. You understand?"
Again he nodded, understanding. There would need to be tests. Tests to ascertain the father of the child. Genotyping. Then he would know. Know for good and certain. He gritted his teeth, feeling the pain like a needle in his guts.
"Good," said the T'ang, seeing that what he had wanted was accomplished. "There must be no room for doubt in the future. If your son is to rule, he must be uncontested. Your son, not some cuckoo in the nest."
The words stung Li Yuan, but that was their aim. His father knew when to spare and when to goad.
"And then?" Li Yuan suddenly felt drained, empty of thought.
"And then you marry again. Not one wife, but two. Six if need be, Yuan. Have sons. Make the family strong again. Provide."
He nodded, unable to conceive of life with any other woman but Fei Yen, but for now obedient to his father's wishes.
"Love!" There was a strange bitterness to his father's voice. An edge. "It's never enough, Yuan. Remember that. It always fails you in the end. Always."
Li Yuan looked up, meeting his father's eyes, seeing the love and hurt and pain there where for others there was nothing.
"All love?"
The T'ang nodded and reached out to hold his son's shoulder. "All love, Yuan. Even this."
THERE was a pounding at the outer doors. Li Shai Tung woke, drenched in sweat, the dream of his first wife, Lin Yua, and that dreadful night so clear that, for a moment, he thought the banging on the doors a part of it. He sat up, feeling weak, disoriented. The banging came again.
"Gods help us... what is it now?" he muttered, getting up slowly and pulling on his gown.
He went across and stood there, facing the doors. "Who is it?"
"It is I, Chieh Hsia. Your Chancellor, Chung Hu-yan."
He shivered. Chung Hu-yan. As in the dream. As on the night Lin Yua had died giving birth to his son, Yuan. For a moment he could not answer him.
"Chieh Hsia," came the voice again. "Are you all right?"
He turned, looking about him, then turned back. No. He was here. He wasn't dreaming. Eighteen years had passed and he was here, in his palace, and the knocking on the door, the voice—both were real.
"Hold on, Chung. I'm coming . . ."
He heard how weak his voice sounded, how indecisive, and shivered. Sweat trickled down his inner arms, formed on his forehead. Why was everything suddenly so difficult?
He fumbled with the lock, then drew back the catch. Stepping back, he watched the doors open. Chung Hu-yan stood there, flanked by two guards.
"What is it, Chung?" he said, his voice quavering, seeing the fear in his Chancellor's face.
Chung Hu-yan bowed low. "News has come, Chieh Hsia. Bad news."
Bad news ... He felt his stomach tighten. Li Yuan was dead. Or Tsu Ma. Or ...
"What is it, Chung?" he said again, unconscious of the repetition.
In answer Chung moved aside. Tolonen was standing there, his face ashen.
"Chieh Hsia . . ." the Marshal began, then went down on one knee, bowing his head low. "I have failed you, my Lord . . . failed you."
Li Shai Tung half turned, looking to see who was standing behind him, but there was no one. He frowned then turned back. "Failed, Knut? How failed?"
"The Plantations . . ." Tolonen said, then looked up at him again, tears in his eyes. "The Plantations are on fire."
CHAPTER FIVE
The Broken Wheel
A huge WINDOW filled the end of the corridor where the tunnel turned to the right, intersecting with the boarding hatch. She stood there a moment, looking out across the predawn darkness of the spaceport, barely conscious of the passengers pushing by, knowing that this was probably the last view she would ever have of City Europe—the City in which she had spent her whole life. But that life was over now and a new one lay ahead. Emily Ascher was dead, killed in a fictitious accident three days ago. She was Mary Jennings now, a blonde from Atlanta Canton, returning to the eastern seaboard after a two-year secondment to the European arm of her company.