And what would he say? Well done, Tsung Ye? You do well to keep the old girl from my bed?
Nan Ho almost laughed, thinking of his Master's predilection for young maids. Why he had let Pel K'ung into his bed that once he would never understand. And then to banish her again . . .
He shook his head, then returned to his desk. Matters were pressing. If he judged right, things were coming to a head. The reports of his spies were ominous. They spoke of large movements of men and supplies. They hinted at secret meetings and of deals done in shadowy rooms. But nothing certain. Nothing absolute. When it came, it would come suddenly. And he must be prepared.
Nan Ho sat, the image of Tsung Ye naked, his buttocks rising and falling between Pei K'ung's open legs, haunting him a moment, making him frown. Then, pushing the matter aside, he picked up the tiny hammer and rang the bell on his desk, summoning his secretaries.
TOLONEN MADE TO GET UP from his chair, but the abruptness of Rheinhardt's entry into the room caught him by surprise.
"What the fuck are you up to?" Rheinhardt demanded, leaning over him aggressively, his face burning with anger. "I've five men in my cells, and were it not you, Knut Tolonen, I'd gladly make it six!" Tolonen looked down, embarrassed. "You don't understand. . . ." "Understand? What is there to understand? That you hired a dis-
graced Major and his team of tin-pot mercenaries to kidnap one of this City's most important men?"
Tolonen's head came up. "Important? That ragamuffin!"
He made to get up, but Rheinhardt pushed him down savagely; the first time he had ever dared touch the old man. He leaned close, speaking the words into Tolonen's face as if addressing the most lowly of his officers and not the man who had been General even before he himself had been born. "Important. You understand me, Knut? As in indispensable. If he's been harmed. If in any way—"
"I gave strict instructions," Tolonen began, but Rheinhardt glared at him and he fell silent.
"You've done many things in your time, Knut Tolonen. Some of them were . . . well, impolitic is to put it mildly. Some of them weren't strictly within the rules. But this . . . Aiya, old man, what were you thinking of? Did you think it would solve anything? Did you . . . well, did you even think?"
Tolonen stared back at him, his natural defiance tempered by the fact that he knew Rheinhardt was right. He had been stupid.
"What will you do?" he asked quietly.
Rheinhardt straightened up, then shook his head in exasperation. "There's nothing I can do. Li Yuan will have to know. If Ward presses charges . . ."
Tolonen sat forward, some of the old fire returning to him. "Let him press charges! But he won't marry my daughter!"
Rheinhardt stared at the old man with a mixture of dismay and pity, then spoke to him, more gently than before. "Jelka is of age now, Knut. Don't you understand that? She can choose for herself now. And if she chooses Ward—"
Tolonen stood, his golden hand bunched into a fist as if to strike the one he was talking of. "He won't! I won't let him! I'd rather see him dead!"
Rheinhardt drew himself up rigid, pained to hear the old man reduced to this. "I would be careful what you say, Marshal Tolonen. I am empowered to uphold the law in City Europe. Your words—"
"Are no more than the truth," the old man said defiantly, his gray eyes piercing Rheinhardt's. His voice boomed now with all its ancient power. "Arrest me, if you dare. Go tell Li Yuan. But you will not stop me. Whether I lose my daughter or not, he shall not have her. You understand me, General Rheinhardt? I won't let him!"
Rheinhardt stared back at the old man a moment, then came to attention, clicking his heels and bowing his head smartly.
"You will hear from me, Marshal," he said, stepping back. "Until you do—"
But Tolonen was not listening. The old man turned and, crossing the room, disappeared into his dressing room, slamming the door behind him.
Rheinhardt closed his eyes, letting out a deep, audible sigh. Then, feeling a sadness that was beyond expression, he turned and left, knowing that the old man had given him no choice.
LI YUAN stood at the top of the landing ramp, looking out toward the silent stone walls of T'ai Yueh Shan palace, his mood despondent.
It was a gray, cheerless day, the wind whipping off the water of the lake, the calling of the geese like the cries of lost souls.
I should not have come, he thought. I should have left her here to rot.
But now that he was here he would see it through. Besides, he had to know, to purge himself of this so that he could move on and be strong again.
He shivered, then turned, calling for another, warmer cloak. At once a servant brought one.
The past few weeks had been a torment. In his mind he had constantly pictured her with Tsu Ma. Wherever he turned, there they were, leering at him and laughing, their nakedness taunting him. Little boy, they'd called, mockingly. Such a silly little boy, to love your brother's wife.
The pain he felt at such moments was intense. No less intense for being of the mind. Two souls they said he had—the earth soul and the spirit soul, p'o and hun—and at such moments he had no cause to doubt them, for while his body was untroubled, his spirit ached. Ached like a rotting tooth that could not be pulled.
Well, so it might be. Yet he would try to rid himself of it. Here, today, he would face that inner pain and try to find surcease.
He went down, walking between the lines of kneeling, bowing guards, and on along the path that led to the great West Gate.
Eight and a half years ago he had given her this place, for her and her bastard son. He had divorced her on the day of his coronation and she had had the child two days later, on his wedding day.
Li Yuan slowed his pace, looking to his right, across the grassy slope toward the ornamental bridge, remembering. His wedding day ... It had been a day much like this, with the wind whipping off the lake. The nineteenth day of the ninth month it had been. The week before Chiu Fen, the Autumn Equinox.
He sighed. And now those three I married that day are dead and she still lives. How strange it was that after all that had happened, it was to her he was returning. Always to her.
Yes, but no more. After today . . .
Fei Yen was waiting in her rooms. She greeted him with cold civility, kneeling and pressing her head three times against the floor before she straightened up.
"How are you?" he asked, yet a single look told him far more than she could ever say. There was a darkness behind her eyes that had not been there a month ago, a tightness to her mouth. Whatever madness had compelled her to fly to Tsu Ma's palace that day, whatever hotness of the blood had urged her on, it had congealed in her now. Eyes which had burned with an angry passion now stared at him with frigid insolence.
Her words, when they came, were, like the formality of her greeting, only a mockery.
"I am very happy here, Chieh Hsia. You do me great honor, visiting me."
He felt the pain rekindled; felt that familiar tightening of his stomach muscles. Why was it thus? Why did she still have power over him, after all these years?
"I came to clarify things," he answered. "Much was left . . . unstated last time we met."
She laughed. "Unstated? Why, forgive me, Chieh Hsia, but I thought I expressed myself quite eloquently. Your cousin fucked me. Not once, but many times. Would you like to know where and how?" Her eyes searched his, as if trying to gauge how best to inflict pain, "It would be no trouble, if you've the time. I can recall each and every occasion." She smiled. "He may have been a bastard, but Tsu Ma was a memorable fuck. He—"