The Middle Kingdom (22 page)

"Then you
will do nothing against him?"

The T'ang
nodded. When he spoke again he was more reserved, more formal, than
before. "You must understand me in this, Knut. If I had a single
item of evidence against him— however small'—I would
break the man, and do it gladly. But as it is . . ." He spread
his hands expressively. "It would not do to accuse one of my own
ministers without irreproachable evidence."

"I
understand."

"Good."
The T'ang leaned forward, his dark eyes staring intently at his
General. "For now, we'll take Wyatt, and any others that can be
traced through him. Lehmann, perhaps, and that foul creature
Berdichev. But before we do, make sure there's not a possibility of
doubt. We must act from certainty. Chung Kuo must see us to be
correct—to be perfectly justified in our actions. I want no
trouble in the House because of this."

The General
bowed his head, keeping his thoughts to himself. In this the Pang was
right. Things had changed subtly in the last ten years. More power
than ever before lay in the hands of men like Lehmann. They had money
and influence and a vote in the House at Weimar. And though the House
was subject to the will of the Seven, it did not do to exercise such
power too frequently. The illusion of cooperation—of an
independent House, working hand in glove with the Council of the
Seven— needed to be preserved. In that illusion lay the basis
of lasting peace.

Was that, then,
the truth behind all this? Tolonen asked himself. The real reason for
Lwo Kang's death? Was it all an attempt to force the hand of the
Seven? To make it show its true power openly and without veils before
the world? To set House against Seven and force the people to a
choice? If so, he understood the T'ang's caution.

He looked up
again, meeting the T'ang's eyes. "It is a loathsome business,
ours,
Chieh Hsia
. We must deal fairly, honestly, with cheats
and scoundrels." He sighed bitterly. "Those cockroaches are
all bows and fair words to our faces, yet beneath that outward show
they seethe with subterfuge. They smile but they want us dead."

The T'ang smiled
sadly. "Yes, Knut. Yet such is the way of this world. So men
are. So they act. And that itself is reason enough for the Seven, eh?
Without us where would be the peace our fathers' fathers worked for?
What would happen to the City of Ten Thousand Years they built? We
know, you and I. The barbarians would tear it down, level by level,
and build some cruder, darker thing in its place."

Tolonen tilted
his head, agreeing, but he was thinking of the giant, Karr, and of
the Pit below the Net where life was fought for openly, beneath the
acid glare of brilliant lights. He was a cleaner kind of beast. Much
cleaner than Lehmann and his like. For once the Major had been
wrong—he had seen that instantly. There
was
honor in how
a man behaved, even beneath the Net. Karr and the dead man, Chen,
they were killers, certainly, but weren't all soldiers killers when
it came to it? How you killed, that was the important thing. Whether
you faced your adversary, man to man, letting the contest be decided
on strength of arm and skill, or whether you skulked through shadows
like a thief to slip a poisoned blade into a sleeping back.

Yes, he thought,
in truth I should hate the indirectness of all this; the masks and
the tricks and the unending layers of intermediaries. Yet I've been
trained to indirectness—to be as cunning as the men I fight.

"As far as
Wyatt is concerned, I'll have the warrant signed before you leave. Is
there anything else, Knut?"

"There are
two further matters,
Chieh Hsia
."

"Well?"

"The first
is a request." The General handed his Tang one of the papers.
"In a week Han Ch'in, your eldest son, is sixteen and becomes a
man. It is my wish to give him something appropriate."

Tolonen fell
silent, watching as Li Shai Tung unfolded the silk-paper deed of
ownership. After a moment the T'ang looked up, a surprised smile
lighting his features. "But this is too much, Knut, surely?"

The General
bowed his head. "Han Ch'in will be T'ang one day. And though he
has the freedom of your stables,
Chieh Hsia,

I felt it time
he had his own horse. Through horsemanship one learns command."

The T'ang was
still smiling. A horse was a princely gift. There were two thousand
thoroughbreds at most in the whole of Chung Kuo. To purchase one
would have cost even a fabulously rich man like the General more than
he could easily afford. Li Shai Tung looked at Tolonen a moment
longer, then did what he rarely did and bent his head. "Then it
shall be so, old friend. My family is honored by your gift. And Han
Ch'in will be delighted."

The General
lowered his head, his face burning with pride and pleasure. Across
from him the T'ang folded the paper again. "And the second
matter?"

"Ah . . .
that is a gift to myself." He hesitated, then handed the second
of the papers over. "There is a man I want to use. His name is
Karr."

THAT EVENING,
Under Secretary Lehmann summoned all those delegates and
representatives sympathetic to his cause to his suite of rooms in the
penthouse of the House of a Thousand Freedoms in Weimar. There was a
brooding silence in the long, packed room. Lehmann sat in his chair,
one hand tugging distractedly at his pigtail, a copy of the warrant
open on the desk before him, an expression of sheer disbelief and
outrage building slowly in his face.

"I don't
believe it," he said finally, his voice soft, controlled. Then
he picked the paper up and held it out to the rest of them. "Does
anyone
here believe this?"

There was a deep
murmur of denial and a shaking of heads.

"But there
must be some kind of evidence, Pietr. Even the T'ang would not dare
to act without clear evidence."

Lehmann laughed
sourly, then turned slightly in his seat and looked across at the
delegate who had spoken, a tall, heavily built Hung Moo in a pale
green
pau.
"You think so, Barrow Chao? You think the
small matter of evidence will stop a T'ang from acting?"

There was an
indrawing of breath in some quarters. A T'ang was a T'ang, after all.
Lehmann saw this and made a mental note of those who had seemed
outraged by his words, then pressed on. He stood up slowly and came
around the table, facing Barrow.

"I've known
Edmund Wyatt all my life, Chao. I knew him as a child and I've been
honored to know him as a man. I can vouch there's no more honest man
in the Above, nor one with less malice in him. For Edmund to have
done what this says he did . . . well, it's laughable!"

He was facing
Barrow now, only an arm's length from him. Barrow shrugged. "So
you say, Pietr. And before today I would have said the same. But I
repeat, the T'ang must have evidence. And not just any evidence, but
proof positive. He would be mad to act without it."

"Maybe,"
Lehmann said, turning aside. "But maybe not. Just think about
it. In the last five years this House has won more freedoms than in
the whole of the previous century. We managed to extend the
boundaries of trade and win huge concessions in respect of legitimate
research and development. In doing so we brought a refreshing and
much needed breath of change to Chung Kuo."

There were
murmurs of agreement from the delegates. Lehmann turned back, facing
them.

"Change.
That's what the Seven hate above all else. Change. And in the last
three years we have seen them act to kill those freedoms we so
rightly fought for. At first covertly, with whispered words and
meaningful glances. Then with 'gifts' for those who would be their
friends. Finally, through the alternatives of patronage or the turned
back."

There were nods
of angry agreement, the agitated whisper of silks as the delegates
turned to talk among themselves. There was not one here who hadn't
suffered from the backlash. Not one who, as an advocate of change,
however limited, had not found, himself "out of favor" and
thus out of pocket.

Lehmann waited
for things to quiet down, then smiled tightly. "But that was
only the start of it, wasn't it? Having failed to check things by
covert means, they decided to be more direct. Ministerial
appointments, previously and rightly determined by family connections
and the commonsense measure of financial power, were suddenly made on
some nebulous sense of New Confucian worthiness."

There were
guffaws of laughter at the look of utter disgust on Lehmann's face.

"Worthiness
. . . well, we all know what that really means, don't we? It means a
new breed of minister, as efficient as a GenSyn domestic and every
bit as limited when it comes to making a real decision. But we knew
what they were from the first, didn't we? Dams set up against the
natural flow. Mouthpieces for the Seven, programed only to say no to
change."

Again there was
a murmur of agreement; but louder this time, more aggressive. Lehmann
raised his hands, palm outward, begging their silence, then nodded
his head slowly.

"We know
their game, eh? We understand what they are trying to do. And we all
know what has been happening in the House this last year. WeVe seen
to what lengths they'll go to oppose change."

It could not be
said openly, but all there knew what Lehmann was implying. From the
first days of the House the Seven had always maintained a small but
influential faction there—men whom the T'angs "kept"
for their votes. Such men were known as
tea
—"pockets"—and,
historically, had served a double function in the House,
counterbalancing the strong mercantile tendencies of the House and
serving as a conduit for the views of the Seven. In the past the
Seven had chosen well; their
ted
had been elderly,
well-respected men: charismatic and persuasive—their tongues
worth a dozen, sometimes as many as fifty, votes. As agents of
consensus they had proved a strong, stabilizing influence on the
House. But with the new liberalization things had slowly changed and
their influence had waned. For a long while the Seven had done
nothing, but in the past twelve months they had bought their way
heavily, indiscriminately, into the House, trading influence for the
direct power of votes.

Now there was a
new breed of "pocket": brash young men who owed their
wealth and power not to trade or family but to their sudden elevation
by the Seven. Rival candidates had been paid off or threatened.
Elections had been rigged. Campaign money had flowed like the Yangtze
flood. Of the one hundred and eighty delegates elected to the House
in the last six months alone, more than two thirds had been
tai.

The effect had
been to crystallize the factions in the House, and to radicalize the
demands for changes to the Edict of Technological Control—that
keystone in the great wall of state; or, as some saw it, the dam
restraining the gathering waters of change.

"Change
will come," Lehmann said softly, "whether they wish it or
not. Change must come. It is the natural order of things. They cannot
build a wall high enough to contain it."

Lehmann paused.
There was a noise at the doorway as some of the men gathered there
moved aside. Edmund Wyatt pushed through.

"I heard
you wanted me, Pietr," he said, then looked around, seeing how
everyone was suddenly watching him. He dropped his voice. "What
is it?"

Lehmann took his
arm, then led him across to the chair and sat him down.

"General
Tolonen was here. He brought a copy of a warrant."

Wyatt looked
blankly at Lehmann. "So?"

There was a
strong murmuring from the men in the room. Lehmann looked back at
them triumphantly, then turned to Barrow. "There! There's your
proof, surely, Barrow Chao? Was that the reaction of a guilty man?"

Behind him Wyatt
laughed. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment. "What is it,
Pietr? What am I supposed-to be guilty of?"

Lehmann looked
down at the paper in his hand, hesitating, then handed it across. For
a moment Wyatt was silent, his right hand holding down the paper as
he read. Then he looked up, a startled expression in his eyes. "I—I
don't believe it."

Lehmann had gone
round the back of him. Now he stood there, leaning over Wyatt, but
looking up at the other men in the room as he spoke.

"It's what
it appears to be. A warrant. Signed by the T'ang himself. For your
arrest, Edmund. For the murder of Lwo Kang."

Wyatt turned and
stared up into his face. His bewilderment, his total incomprehension,
were there for everyone in the room to see. "But it can't be,
Pietr. I mean, I never. . ."

His voice gave
out again and he looked down sharply, shuddering.

"Then this
is real," he said after a moment.

There was a
tense silence in the room, then Lehmann spoke again. "Well,
Barrow Chao? What do you reckon?"

Barrow dropped
his head and nodded. The room was deathly quiet.

Lehmann
straightened, sighing. "Then the question is this. How do we
fight this?"

Wyatt looked up
at him. "Fight it?"

Lehmann was
quiet a moment, concentrating, then gave the slightest nod. "Yes,"
he said. "We'll hide you. All of us. We could do it. We could
keep Tolonen from serving the warrant."

Lehmann gazed
about him defiantly, looking from face to face, challenging anyone to
gainsay him, but the mood was in his favor now.

"No!"
Wyatt got up, then came around and stood there, facing Lehmann. "No,
Pietr. I won't hide. That's what he wants. That's why he came here
first. Don't you see? He wanted that. Wanted me to run. That way he
could put another warrant out. Have me killed without trial. No, let
him serve his warrant. IVe nothing to fear. I've done nothing."