But Lehmann had little time for gods, only for men he could use.
Soucek smiled, then stiffened, seeing movement in the shadows behind his Master. Drawing his knife, he stepped between Lehmann and the door, prepared to strike.
"Jiri . . ."
Soucek let his breath hiss from him, then sheathed his knife. It was Mach. He turned, noting how Lehmann was watching them, his own pearl-handled knife resting in his lap.
"What is it?" Lehmann asked softly, conscious of the ceremony continuing behind him.
In answer Mach stepped past Soucek and handed Lehmann a slip of paper: a copy of a poster that had been circulating the levels in its thousands recently. On it was a photo of a dark-haired woman and a figure—a reward of half a million yuan.
"So?" Lehmann asked, meeting Mach's eyes again.
"So I've found her," Mach answered, smiling. "I've found Emily Ascher."
"Found her? Then where is she?"
"Nearby. I ... I've tracked her to one of the local stacks."
"And you want my help to flush her out?"
Mach nodded.
"And when you get her?" Lehmann's eyes studied his old ally closely. "You fancy that reward?"
Mach laughed. "No, Stefan. I thought you'd like her. These posters . . . her old husband, Michael Lever is behind them. And Lever's a powerful man these days in Li Yuan's Enclave. I thought . . ."
Lehmann nodded. "You did well to come to me, Jan. A lesser man might have thought of the money. But you—you always were ambitious, weren't you?"
Mach shrugged, but all three of them knew the truth. Since Pasek had been taken up by Lehmann, Mach's own organizations had been under pressure. Pasek's Black Hand had all but destroyed the Yu. But if Lehmann gave his support, Mach could again be powerful.
"You could be useful, Jan," Lehmann said, turning to watch Pasek once more. "Our friend the Priest is getting rather high and mighty, wouldn't you say?"
He turned, letting his eyes say what he meant.
"Power's a delicate thing," Mach answered. "To rule, one needs to use checks and balances."
Lehmann nodded. "You understand, then?"
"And the woman, Ascher?"
"Take Jiri here. He'll help you flush her out. Oh, and Jan . . ."
"Yes, Stefan?"
"You've no ... beliefs, have you?"
"Who, me?" Mach laughed, then shook his head, scowling. "Why, if I met God Himself I'd spit in his eye before I'd bow my head to him!"
CHAPTER TWENTY
Puppet Dance
LI YUAN came down the dragon steps and stood over Karr, one hand gripping his imperial yellow silks, the other pointed accusingly at his kneeling General. Nearby his full Court had been drawn up for the audience, and his wife, his Chancellor, and several other senior Ministers and Advisors stood watching as, his face dark with anger, he bawled Karr out.
"Odessa! How could you lose Odessa? Don't you understand how vital Odessa fortress was? And now it's his. His.1 Why, he has only to strike north to Kharkov and we are undone. I shall be trapped between his forces and the West Asian warlords. And what then?"
Then we must strengthen Kharkov, Karr thought. But he said nothing. He kept his head bowed, his face an expressionless mask, accepting his Master's blame, letting the young T'ang's anger wash over him like the tide.
"And Chang! Where is Minister Chang? You promised me him, General Karr! But he's slipped the net. You were watching him, neh?"
"I was, Chieh Hsia."
"So what happened?"
"I do not know, Chieh Hsia. Much else was happening. The copies—"
Li Yuan waved the excuse away. "I gave that job to Ward. You, General, should have been concentrating on more important matters! I mean, what in the gods' name were you doing, losing Odessa! Surely you could see his purpose?"
Not until too late, Karr answered in his head, and I defy any other man to say different. But he kept the thought to himself once more, merely dipping his head a fraction lower, as if accepting the criticism at face value.
Rheinhardt, he thought. Rheinhardt is behind this. He never forgave me for taking his job. And now he's whispering his poison in the Tang's ear, setting him against me.
He swallowed, gripped by a sudden bitterness at the thanklessness of his task. After all I've done . . . to be treated thus.
Li Yuan was still shouting at him, blaming him, returning time and again to his stupidity at losing Odessa.
It was a brilliant move, he thought, feeling a strange respect for his adversary. Like a cutting move in a game of wei ch'i, it had changed the shapes on the board at a stroke. Li Yuan had always been on the defensive against a stronger player, but now things had entered a new and critical phase. Now the endgame was about to begin.
As Li Yuan went back up the steps, returning to his throne, Karr realized he had been dismissed. For the last minute or so he had been detached from it all, the T'ang's harsh words troubling him no more than a baby's babble. But now he had to stand and make his way from there, and that proved hard. As he stood he kept his head lowered, properly reverential, then, bowed at the waist, he began to back away, feeling a warmth at his neck that was as rare as it was unexpected. Never, before now, had he felt ashamed. Never, even when he'd lived beneath the Net, had he let another man do this to him.
Between the watching ranks of Courtiers and Ministers he went, head bowed, back beneath the great arch of the entrance, watching the great doors close slowly upon the scowling T'ang, perched atop his Presence Throne.
As the doors slammed shut Karr let a breath escape him, then turned, straightening up, making a tiny movement as if shaking off some dark and evil spell. He looked about him, noting how his men could no longer look at him; how their eyes slid away, embarrassed to see their General so belittled.
"Come!" he said curtly, gesturing for them to follow, then began to march at a pace toward the Eastern Gate and the hangars beyond.
He was climbing aboard his cruiser when a shout made him turn. It was the Chancellor, Nan Ho. He was running across the grass toward the hangars, lifting his silks with one hand as he ran, while his other arm hailed the General. . ; ,: . , ^.mj.,.„,».», ,.*• . ..'; ...
"What is it, Master Nan?" he asked, overpolitely, as the old man stopped, wheezing, at the foot of the ramp.
"Send . . . send your men . . . away, General . . . Karr." Nan Ho took a long breath, then spoke again. "We need to straighten a few things out. I could not see you leave like this."
Karr turned, waving his men out of the hangar. When they were gone, he faced Nan Ho once more.
"So?"
Nan Ho came up the ramp until he stood close, dwarfed by Karr. "You must be patient with him, Gregor. The events of the past few days have been a shock to him. He had thought to make a brand-new start, but now his plans are in ruin, there are intruders in his City, and one of his key fortresses—perhaps the key—is in his enemy's hands. Would you not feel angry? Would you not—in some strange way—feel betrayed? And if not by fate, then by whom? In his mind he searches for a scapegoat, and for now he has found you."
Karr's anger—his frustration—suddenly boiled over. "And that should make me feel better7."