Curval stared at DeVore, then laughed quietly. "Of course! I thought you understood that. It's the only way to guarantee that it will spread, and spread widely. Fucking. . . it's the thing the human race does most of and says least about. And when you consider it, it's the perfect way of introducing a new virus. After all, they're all supposed to be immune to sexual disease. From birth."
DeVore touched his tongue against his top teeth, then nodded. Errant husbands and their unfaithful wives, bored concubines and their casual lovers, lecherous old men and randy widows, singsong girls and libertine young sons—he could see it now, spreading like the leaves and branches of a great tree until the tree itself rotted and fell. He laughed, then slapped Curval on the back.
"YouVe done well, Andrew. Very well."
Curval looked at him. "And you, Howard? You'll keep your promise?"
DeVore squeezed his shoulder. "Of course. Have I ever let you down? But come, let's go. Our young friends will be wondering why we've been gone so long. Besides, I understand our friend Kustow has brought his wei chi champion with him and I fancied trying myself out against him."
Curval nodded. "He's good. I've seen him play."
DeVore met his eyes. "As good as me?"
Curval turned and took the tiny, deadly slide from the table. "They say he might even challenge for the championship next year."
DeVore laughed. "Maybe so, but you still haven't answered me. YouVe seen me play. Would you say he's as good as me?"
Curval slotted the slide back into the case and secured the lid, then looked back at DeVore, hesitant, not certain how he'd take the truth.
"To be honest with you, Howard, yes. Every bit as good. And maybe a lot better."
DeVore turned away, pacing the tiny room, lost in his own thoughts. Then he turned back, facing Curval again, a smile lighting his face.
"Our friend Kustow ... do you know if he likes to gamble?"
devore looked UP from the board, then bowed to his opponent, conceding the game. It was the fifth the two had played and the closest yet. This time he had come within a stone of beating the Han. Even so, the result of the tournament was conclusive; Kustow's champion had triumphed five-nothing, two of those games having been won by a margin of more than twenty stones.
"Another five?" Kustow said, smiling. He had done well by the contest— DeVore had wagered five thousand yuan on each game and a further ten thousand on the tournament.
DeVore looked back at him, acknowledging his victory. "I wish there were time, my friend, but you must be at the Ebert Mansion by nine and it's six already. I'll tell you what, though. When I come to America, I'll play your man again. It will give me the opportunity to win my money back."
Lever leaned forward in his chair. "You plan to come to America, then, Shih DeVore? Wouldn't that be rather dangerous for you?"
DeVore smiled. "Life is dangerous, Michael. And while it pays to take care, where would any of us be if we did not take risks?"
Lever looked to his two friends. "True. But one must choose one's friends well in these uncertain times."
DeVore bowed his head slightly, understanding what was implied. They were inclined to work with him but had yet to commit themselves fully. He would need to give them further reasons for allying with him. "And one's lieutenants. My man Mach, for instance. He served me well in the attack on the T'ang's plantations." Lever gave a laugh of surprise. "That was you? But I thought. . ." "You thought as everyone was meant to think. That it was the Ping Tiao. But no, they were my men."
"I see. But why? Why not claim credit for yourself?"
"Because sometimes it suits one's purpose to make one's enemies believe the truth is other than it is. You see, the Ping Tiao is now defunct. I destroyed the last vestiges of that organization two days back. Yet as far as the Seven are concerned, it still exists—still poses a threat to them. Indeed, the new T'ang, Li Yuan, plans to launch a major campaign against them. He has given instructions to his new General to use whatever force it takes to destroy them, and at whatever cost. Such a diversion of funds and energies is to be welcomed, wouldn't you say?"
Lever laughed. "Yes! And at the same time it draws attention away from your activities here in the Wilds. I like that."
DeVore nodded, pleased. Here were young men with fire in them. They were not like their European counterparts. Their anger was pure. It had only to be channeled.
He stood, and with one final bow to his opponent, came around the table, facing the three young men.
"There's one more thing before you go from here. Something I want to give you."
Lever looked to his friends, then lowered his head. "We thank you, Shih DeVore, but your hospitality has been reward enough."
DeVore understood. Lever was accustomed to the use of gifts in business to create obligations. It was a trick the Han used a great deal. He shook his head. "Please, my friends, do not mistake me; this gift carries no obligation. Indeed, I would feel greatly offended if you took it otherwise. I am no trader. I would not dream of seeking any material advantage from our meeting. Let this be a simple token of our friendship, neh?"
He looked to each of them; to Lever, Kustow, and finally to Stevens, seeing how each had been won by the simplicity of his manner.
"Good. Then wait here. I have it in the other room."
He left them, returning a moment later with a bulky, rectangular parcel wrapped in red silk.
"Here," he said, handing it to Lever. "You are to open it later—on the flight to Ebert's if you must, but later. And whatever you finally decide to do with it, bear in mind that great sacrifices have been made to bring this to you. Let no one see it who you do not trust like a brother."
Lever stared at the parcel a moment, his eyes burning with curiosity, then looked up again, smiling.
"IVe no idea what this is, but I'll do as you say. And thank you, Howard. Thank you for everything. You must be our guest when you come to America."
DeVore smiled. "That's kind of you, Michael. Very kind indeed."
"Well, Stefan, what do you think?"
Lehmann stood there a moment longer at the one-way mirror, then turned back, looking at DeVore. He had witnessed everything.
"The contest. . . You lost it deliberately, didn't you?"
DeVore smiled, pleased that Lehmann had seen it.
"I could have beaten him. Not at first, maybe, but from the third game on. There's a pattern to his game. That's the way it is with these Americans. There's a pattern to their thinking and I feel as if I'm beginning to discern it. Which is why I have to go there myself. Europe is dead as far as we're concerned. WeVe milked it dry. If we want to complete the fortresses, we've got to get funds from the Americans. WeVe got to persuade them to invest in us—to make them see us as the means | by which they can topple the Seven."
"And Curval? You promised him you'd kill Old Man Ebert. Is that wise?"
DeVore laughed. "If the gods will it that the old man dies in the next six months, he will die, and I will claim the credit. But I shall do nothing to aid them. I have no great love for Klaus Ebert—I think he's a pompous old windbag, to tell the truth— but he is Hans's father. Kill him and we risk all. No, we will leave such things to fate. And if Curval objects . . ." He laughed. "Well, we can deal with that as and when, neh? As and when."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mirrors
IT WAS NIGHT. Li Yuan stood on the bridge, staring down into the lake, watching the full moon dance upon the blackness. Tongjiang was quiet now, the guests departed. Guards stood off at a distance, perfectly still, like statues in the silvered darkness.
It had been a long and busy day. He had been up at four, supervising the final arrangements for his father's funeral, greeting the mourners as they arrived. The ceremony had taken up the best part of the morning, followed by an informal meeting of the Seven. Interviews with ministers and various high officials had eaten up the rest of the afternoon as he began the task of tying up the loose strands of his father's business and making preparations for his own coronation ceremony three days hence. And other things. So many other things.