"Master Nan?"
Nan Ho straightened, then held up a flimsy piece of paper. His eyes were twinkling, his face almost laughing now. "It has come, Chieh Hsia! At the last moment it has come!"
He bowed low a second time, then held out his arm, offering the paper to his Master. Li Yuan came around the desk and took it, beginning to read. He had barely read more than a paragraph of it when he looked up abruptly, shocked, meeting Nan Ho's eyes.
"But this is—"
"His capitulation, Chieh Hsia! He calls you Son of Heaven and swears his absolute loyalty, offering his neck before your foot!" Nan Ho laughed. "We have won, Chieh Hsia!"
Li Yuan shook the paper as if to emphasize its flimsiness. "But this means nothing!"
Nan Ho bowed his head, sobered by his T'ang's words. "Forgive me, Chieh Hsia, but you have not heard the rest. This document . . . copies of it are going up throughout the Lowers even as we speak. Millions of copies. Tens of millions! He bows before you, Chieh Hsia! He calls you Son of Heaven!"
"I—" Li Yuan was about to say something more, to question what his Chancellor had said, but the summons bell behind his desk had begun to ring urgently. Wei Tseng-li was trying to contact him.
He returned to his desk and faced the screen once more as his young cousin's face appeared.
"Cousin Wei," he said formally, conscious of the servants in the room with him.
"Cousin Li," Wei Tseng-li answered, an unaccustomed hardness in his face. "I am much worried. Word has come that your African armies are to be mobilized and moved to Europe."
Word.7 Li Yuan felt himself go cold. How could word have got to Wei Tseng-li so fast? He had only made the decision an hour back. And the Recall Order . . . that was less than half an hour old! Who of the twenty or so who knew of this had informed his cousin Wei?
"Forgive me, cousin," he said, with a gesture dismissing all those in the room, "but may I ask from whom you heard this . . . rumor?"
Wei Tseng-li waved the query aside. "Do not toy with me, Yuan. I have heard of your quarrel with Tsu Ma. The whys and wherefores I know nothing of, but if you plan to throw your City into a state of war simply to—"
"To what?" Li Yuan interrupted angrily. "Cousin . . . I owe you the life of my son . . . and much more beside . . . but I am a T'ang and what I decide—"
"Will affect my City." Wei Tseng-li leaned into the screen. "What is happening, Li Yuan? Come clean with me. If you are planning war, then tell me, for I shall need to take measures in my own City. If not . . ."
Li Yuan sat back, holding his cousin's eyes a moment, then shook his head.
"The Banners stay in Africa. As for war . , ." He picked up the document and turned it, holding it up so Wei Tseng-li could see.
Wei read, then laughed. "But, Yuan, that is"—he laughed, a boyish laugh of delight that strangely warmed Li Yuan—"that's wonderful!"
Li Yuan nodded, but still he was uncertain. Wonderful? Was it wonderful? Or was it some trick, some empty form designed to trap him? The truth was, he did not know. To the edge . . . The bastard had taken him right to the edge. But for now—for this brief intermission, at least—it was peace.
He let out a long, sighing breath, then laughed, letting himself succumb to Wei Tseng-li's obvious delight.
"Yes, cousin Tseng, it is! It really is!"
CHAPTER NINE
Light and Dark
K
IM STOOD ON the verandah outside his new study, looking out across the gardens. There, on the south lawn between the gravel path and the outer wall, they had erected a geodesic dome—a huge structure more than sixty ch'i in height, framed by a protective web of high-tensile steel. Beneath its darkened outer layer lay two others, all three manufactured from a specially toughened variant of ice Kim had devised himself, the inner layers sealed from the outside and accessible only through a single cast-steel tunnel in which were three air locks. Beside the circle of the outer lock stood T'ai Cho, his tall, senatorial figure making a stark contrast to the workmen who were bowed deferentially before him. Kim smiled, then looked about him, pleased by what he saw. It looked so much better now that they'd laid the lawn and removed the diggers. For weeks it had been chaos, but in the last few days it had all come together. Almost miraculously, it seemed.
Thank the gods T'ai Cho is here, Kim thought with a smile, knowing he would have gone mad trying to cope with this and the project at the same time. As it was the conversion had gone very smoothly. In less than three weeks they had transformed the old Mansion. All that remained now was for the dome's alarm system to be connected and the rose garden transferred from its home in SimFic's labs.
Just in time, he thought, looking back at the elaborately wrapped present that lay on the table beside the open door, for tonight was Jelka's Coming-of-Age party. Tonight, after seven years, he would finally get to see her again.
He smiled, then went inside, walking from room to room past bowing servants, feeling an immense satisfaction at what had been achieved. T'ai Cho had done an excellent job furnishing the house. Gone was the heaviness of the old decor, the oppressive sense of age and mustiness; in its place was something much lighter and simpler.
Yes, Kim thought, stepping into the airy main reception room. This is more like it. This is a home.
Home. The very word was alien to his experience. He had never had a home before, only rooms. But this . . . this had the feeling of a home, of somewhere one could work and live. A place one could venture out from and return to, knowing it would always be there.
A; place waiting to be filled with life.
He walked to the great window and looked out. To the left was the east wing of the house and, on the far side of a shallow lake, an apple orchard; to the right the main driveway and, beyond the pale, lacelike stone of a curving bridge, the massive arch of the ornamental gates.
Home, he thought, surprised by the strength of the emotion engendered by that single word. The Machine was right. I needed to make a home—a place for us to be. . . .
He looked across. T'ai Cho, it seemed, had finished. With a curt gesture he dismissed the men then turned and, gathering his silks about him, began to make his way back to the house.
Kim went out, meeting his old friend in the entrance hall, the great sweep of the stairs to his right.
"Is everything ready?"
T'ai Cho handed the electronic clipboard to a servant, then turned to Kim. "We've had a few problems with the T'ang's Inspectorate, but I think I've smoothed them over. They're going to give the system a trial run. Once that's done we can arrange the transfer."
"Today?"
T'ai Cho shook his head. "The Inspectorate are demanding the very tightest security. They want it done tonight, in the early hours when the levels are clear. And SimFic say they'd need twelve hours' notice."
Kim looked down, disappointed.
"Chin up. It'll make no difference. Besides, it's almost midday. Even if we could arrange it for this evening you'd only miss it. Unless of course—"
"No. We'll wait."
T'ai Cho smiled. "You deserve the best, Kim. I hope it all goes well tonight."
Kim sighed. "It scares me, T'ai Cho. Seeing her again ... I ... I don't know what I'll say."
"Say what comes to mind. 'Thank you' might be a good start, for the tapes she sent you."
"Yes." Kim laughed. "Yes, you're right." He stared at his old friend a moment, then stepped forward and embraced him. "I'm glad you came, T'ai Cho."