Luo Ye drew himself up straight, the grave authority of his voice echoing amid the stone pillars of the great hall.
"Since the time of the great sage Meng Tzu, it has been agreed by all men that to govern Chung Kuo a Son of Heaven must have Heaven's Mandate, and that to be in possession of the Mandate such a one must be a man of virtue and benevolence. Similarly, it has been agreed that any Son of Heaven found lacking in these qualities forfeits his right to the dragon throne. In such a case the Mandate is broken." He paused significantly. "For some time now the actions of our Master, Li Yuan, son of Li Shai Tung, have caused this Council great concern, but this—this willful disregard for other men . . . does this show virtue? Are these the actions of a benevolent man?"
"No!" came the cry from all sides. "No!"
"Well, brothers . . ." Luo Ye said, folding his arms within his robes once more, a smile of satisfaction on his lips now, "then it seems we must debate a brand new matter. It seems it is time for the Pa shi yi to act. To teach this willful young man from whence his power derives. ..."
TSU ma's FACE was blanched, like a mask of shocked anger, the muscles of his neck taut. He sat there, his hands clenching the carved arms of the throne, his whole body held rigid, listening as his Master of the Inner Chambers, Hwa Kwei, made his confession.
Hwa Kwei was sprawled below the raised dais, his forehead pressed against the stone floor, his arms thrown out before him in supplication, his whole attitude one of abject apology. When he had finished, Tsu Ma gave a small grunt and leaned forward.
"Is that all, Hwa Kwei?"
"It is all, Chieh Hsia."
The T'ang shuddered violently and stood, looking past his servant at the great doors. They were alone here in the audience chamber. Tsu Ma had dismissed the guards, trusting his old retainer. But now? For a moment his anger spilled out. He raised his voice.
"Why, Hwa Kwei? What have I done to deserve this of you?"
But his anger was seasoned with the knowledge that Hwa Kwei had come to him. Dishonored and a traitor he might be, but he had acted honorably at the last. Tsu Ma sighed and, going down the steps, raised Hwa Kwei's chin with his foot.
"I shall spare your family, Master Hwa. I promise you that."
The retainer took the T'ang's foot and kissed it, then returned his forehead to the floor. For himself, he knew, there was only death, but the T'ang had been merciful. Hwa's family, at least, would live.
Just then there was a hammering at the door. Tsu Ma stepped past Hwa Kwei, frowning, then glanced back at the servant as he answered.
"Enter!"
It was Yung Chen, one of the eunuchs from the women's quarters. He was breathless. His eyes stared wildly at the T'ang as he bowed, then straightened.
"What is it?" Tsu Ma said quietly. His stomach had tightened, his whole body gone cold. He had the sense that something dreadful— something irreparable—had happened.
"It is Kung-chih, Chieh Hsia. He has gone mad. He holds Shu-sun at knifepoint and calls for you to come. Tan We is dead, and two others." Tan We was the Chief Eunuch, Tsu Ma's mentor from his childhood. The news was like a physical blow. For a moment Tsu Ma faltered, not understanding what was happening. Then, stumbling forward, he pushed past the eunuch and began to run.
In the corridor outside, the guards fell in behind their T'ang, astonished to see him in such a state. Out into the courtyard they went, into bright sunlight, then through the water gardens and across the narrow bridge that led to the women's quarters.
And as he ran, Tsu Ma was thinking, And Too Chu? Is Too Chu in on this too? Can I trust no one?
The first three rooms were empty. Beyond them was a small courtyard with cherry trees in blossom and a small pool. Beyond that were Shu-sun's rooms. Two servants stood on the far side of the pool, turning toward him and bowing as he came out into the courtyard. "Where is he?"
One of the servants turned, pointing inside. Tsu Ma strode across the courtyard, but he had gone only a few paces when two figures appeared in the far doorway.
Kung-chih held Shu-sun before him, the long, deadly knife held lengthways beneath her chin. He could kill her before Tsu Ma took another step. The T'ang halted, glaring at the youth. "Are you mad, Kung-chih?" "Never so sane, Uncle."
Shu-sun looked terrified. Her silk wrap was spattered with blood and her small white hands were clasped together in front of her. She seemed close to fainting and looked to Tsu Ma with imploring eyes. Tsu Ma, seeing her so, felt his stomach turn; felt an emptiness, a fear, he had never felt before. Even so he kept it hidden from his face; kept all his love, his weakness, tight inside, steeling himself to deal with his nephew.
"Why this?" he asked, taking one step.
"No further, Uncle," the youth warned, tilting the blade slightly so that it nicked the flesh and made Shu-sun cry out. Tsu Ma gritted his teeth, then let a breath hiss out between them.
"What do you want?"
Kung-chih's hand was steady, his whole manner dangerous—far more dangerous than Tsu Ma would have expected. He had thought him weak. In that, too, he had been wrong. He waited while the youth considered his reply; appraising the situation, his eyes straying to each side and to above, trying to assess what might be done. Shu-sun's body shielded Kung-chih's. If his guards shot at Kung they would probably miss, and Shu-sun would be dead.
"I am tired of games," Kung-chih said finally.
"Games?" Tsu Ma was puzzled. He made to take another step but saw how the muscles of the hand that held the knife tensed, and so he relaxed, letting his hands open at his sides.
"You have toyed with me, Uncle. Played games with me. All along you have mocked me. I know. Hwa Kwei told me."
This puzzled him more. What could Hwa Kwei have possibly told him to make him think that? Then, suddenly, he understood. It all fell into place. The announcement of Shu-sun's pregnancy! That had precipitated all of this!
"No . . ." he said softly, almost tenderly, as if he understood the hurt the boy was feeling. "I have played no games with you, Kung-chih. Until today, I—"
The/ boy's cold laughter cut his words short. "I do not believe you, Uncle/. Even now you think to trick me. To keep me from what I want:'"
"And you want this?" Tsu Ma had gone cold again. He saw no way out of this. No way but death.
"I wanted what was mine. By right."
By right? But Tsu Ma said nothing, only bowed his head slightly, as if acknowledging what was said.
Kung-chih spoke again. "For years you led me to believe I would be T'ang one day."
Did I? Tsu Ma thought. Well, maybe he had. Even so, nothing justified this.
"What do you think this will achieve, Kung-chih?"
Again the young man laughed, but his eyes gave nothing away. He had killed three times already; perhaps those deaths had changed him.
"I could kill your son, perhaps, Tsu Ma. Kill the heir you think to have."
Tsu Ma was silent a moment, simply watching the boy, trying to control the sudden violent hatred he had felt hearing those words, reminding himself that this was his brother's child, his ward. Yet when he spoke again he let nothing of that hatred show, steeling himself to be calm and unemotional.
"I can wed a dozen wives, Kung-chih. One of them will give me a son."
For the first time the knife wavered slightly and a look of doubt crept into the prince's eyes. But it was a moment's hesitation only. The look of cold determination returned. Kung-chih slowly shook his head and laughed.
"No, Uncle. You do not fool me with your act. I've seen you with this woman."
Again Tsu Ma felt a hot flush of rage pass through him. He wanted to kill the boy; to tear him apart with his bare hands. And yet he had to stand there, calm, his hands open at his sides, his face clear of the anger he felt. For Shu-sun's sake. Because to show what he was feeling would mean her certain death.