"It's too early to know what the long-term effects are going to be, but in the short-term you're right. He's emerged from this whole episode extremely well. His reaction to the attack—the trauma and loss of memory—seems to have been the best thing that could have happened to him. I was concerned in case it had done lasting damage, particularly to his memory, but if anything the experience seems to have"—he shrugged—"toughened him up, I guess you'd say. He's a resilient little creature. Much tougher than we thought. The psychological blocks we created during his restructuring four years ago seem to have melted away—as if they'd never been. But instead of regressing to that state of savagery in which we first encountered him, he appears to have attained a new balance. I've never seen anything like it, to be honest. Most minds are too inflexible—too set in their ways—to survive what Kim has been through without cracking. He, on the other hand, seems to have emerged stronger, saner than ever."
Tolonen frowned. "Maybe. But you say that the psychological blocks have gone. That's a bad thing, surely? I thought they were there to prevent the boy from reverting into savagery."
"They were."
"Then there's a chance he might still be dangerous?"
"There's a chance. But that's true of anyone. And I mean anyone. We've all of us a darker side. Push us just so far and we'll snap. I suspect now that that was what happened the first time, that Kim was simply responding to extreme provocation from the other boy. My guess is that unless Kim were pushed to the same extreme again he'd be perfectly safe. After all, he's not a bomb waiting to go off; he's only a human being, like you or me."
"So what you're saying is that, in your opinion, he's not dangerous. He won't be biting people's ears off or clawing out their eyes?"
The Architect shook his head. "1 doubt it. The fact that his friend survived has helped greatly. Their reunion was a major factor in his recuperation. If T'ai Cho had been killed our problems might have been of a different order, but as it is, I'd say Kim's fine. As fine as you or I."
Tolonen turned, looking back at the screen. "Then you think he's up to it?" The Architect laughed. "I do. In fact, I think it would be positively good for him. He has a mind that's ever-hungry for new things and an instinct for seeking them out. From what I've heard of it, the North American scene should prove a good hunting ground in that regard."
Tolonen frowned, not certain he liked the sound of that, but it was not in his brief to query what was happening in Wu Shih's city; his job was to find out whether Kim was fit to travel to North America, and from all indications, he was.
He sniffed deeply, then nodded, his mind made up. "Good. Then prepare the boy at once. There's a flight from Nantes spaceport at tenth bell. I want Ward and his tutor on it."
"And the wire? Shall we remove that now that our tests are finished?" Tolonen looked away. "No. Leave it in. It won't harm him, after all." He looked back at the Architect, his face a mask. "Besides, if something does go badly wrong—if he goes missing again—we'll be able to trace him, won't we?"
The Architect looked down, beginning to understand what was really happening. "Of course. Of course ..."
"Would you like anything, sir?"
The boy looked up, startled, his dark eyes wide, then settled back in his seat again, shaking his head.
"Nothing ... I ... I'm all right."
The Steward backed off a pace, noting how tense the bodyguards had grown, and bowed his head. "Forgive me, sir, but if you change your mind you have only to press the summons button."
The boy returned a tense smile. "Of course."
The Steward moved on, settling the passengers, making sure they were securely strapped into the seats, asking if there was anything he could do for them before the launch; but all the while his mind was on the boy.
Who was he? he wondered. After all, it wasn't every day they received an order direct from Bremen; nor was it customary for Security to reserve a whole section of the cabin for a single passenger. Knowing all this he had expected some high-ranking Han—a Minor Family prince at the very least, or a Minister—so the boy's appearance had surprised him. At first he had thought he might be a prisoner of some kind, but the more he thought about it the more that seemed ridiculous. Besides, he wasn't bound in any way, and the men with him were clearly bodyguards, not warders. He had only to ask for something and one of them would go running. No. Whoever he was, he was important enough to warrant the kind of treatment reserved only for the very highest of the Above—the Supernal, as they were known these days—and yet he seemed merely a boy, and a rather odd, almost ugly little boy at that. There was a curious angularity to his limbs, a strange darkness in his overlarge eyes.
The Steward came to the end of the walkway and turned, looking back down the cabin. It was five minutes to takeoff. The young Americans were settled now. Like so many of their kind they were almost totally lacking in manners. Only the quiet one—Lever—had even seemed to notice he was there. The rest had snapped their fingers and demanded this and that, as if he were not Steward but some half-human creature manufactured in the GenSyn vats. It was things like that that he hated about this new generation. They were not like their fathers. No, not at all. Their fathers understood that other men had their own pride, and that it was such pride that held the vast fabric of society together. These youngsters had no idea. They were blind to such things. And one day they would pay—and pay dearly—for their blindness.
He turned and went through the curtain. The Security Captain was sitting there, the file open on his knee. He looked up as the Steward came in, giving him a brief smile.
"Are they all settled?"
The Steward nodded. "Even the two women. I had to give them a sedative each, but they seem all right now." He shook his head. "They shouldn't let women travel. I have nothing but trouble with them." The Captain laughed, closing the file. "And the boy?" "He's fine. I wondered—"
The Captain shook his head. "Don't ask me. All I was told was that there was to be a special guest on board. A guest of the T'ang himself. But who he is or what . . ." He shrugged, then laughed again. "I know. I'm as curious as you. He's a strange one, neh?"
The Steward nodded, then moved away, satisfied that the Captain knew no more than he. Even so, he thought he had glimpsed a picture of the boy, earlier, when he had first come back behind the curtain—in the file the Captain was reading. He could have been mistaken, but. . .
"Are you on business?" he asked, pulling the webbing harness out from the wall behind the Captain.
"Liaison," the Captain answered, moving forward in his seat, letting himself be fastened into the harness. "My job is to increase cooperation between the two Cities."
The Steward smiled politely. "It sounds very interesting. But I'd have thought there was little need."
"You'd be surprised. The days of isolation are ended for the Cities. The Triads have spread their nets wide these days. And not only the Triads. There's a lot of illicit trade going on. Some of it via these rockets, I've no doubt!"
The Steward stared at him a moment, then turned away. "Anyway, I'll leave you now. I have one last check to make before I secure myself."
The Captain nodded, then called him back. "Here. I almost forgot. I was told to deliver this to the boy before we took off." He handed the Steward a sealed envelope. "It was in my file. Along with a picture of the boy. All very mysterious, neb?"
The Steward stared at the envelope a moment, then nodded. He turned away, disappearing through the curtain once again.
DeVore watched the man go, breathing a sigh of relief. Then he laughed. It was easy—all so bloody easy. Why, he could have taken the boy out earlier, in the lobby, if he'd wished. He'd had a clear shot. But that wasn't what he wanted. No, he wanted the boy. Besides, Li Yuan was up to something. It would be interesting to find out what.