Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 (49 page)

Her eyes shone
and her chest rose and fell quickly. She felt exhilarated. It had
been a race to remember.

Tsu Ma reined in
beside her. His mount pulled its head back, overexcited by the chase,
and he leaned down to smooth it, stroking the broad length of its
face. Then he looked up at Fei Yen, his strong features formed into a
smile of pleasure.

"That was
good. I haven't enjoyed myself so much in years!"

He laughed, a
deep, rich laugh that sent a shiver down her spine. Then he reached
out and drew the hair back from where it had fallen across her face.
His hand rested against her cheek.

It was the first
time he had touched her.

He withdrew his
hand and turned from her, standing in his saddle and looking out
across the valley. They were at the highest point for twenty
li
around. To their backs and distant were the foothills of the Ta
Pa Shan, but before them was only the plain.

Or what had once
been the plain. In his grandfather's time the City had stretched only
as far as Ch'ung Ch'ing. Now it covered all the lowlands of Sichuan.
From where he looked it glistened whitely in the afternoon sunlight,
a crystalline growth come to within a dozen
li
of where they
were. He could not see its full extent from where he stood, but he
knew that it filled the Ch'ang Chiang Basin, eight hundred li south
to the mountains, a thousand
li
east to west. A vast plateau
of ice.

He lowered
himself in the saddle, then turned, looking back at her. She was
watching him, concerned. Such a look as a wife gives her man.
Thinking this, he smiled and remembered why he'd come.

He climbed down
from his mount and walked across to her.

"Come!"
he said, offering her his hand to help her down. But this time he did
not relinquish her. This time he turned her to face him, enveloping
her in his arms.

She looked up at
him expectantly, her mouth open, the bottom lip raised, almost brutal
in what it implied. Her eyes seared him, so fierce was their demand.
And her body, where he gripped it, seemed to force itself into him.

It was as he'd
thought.

He kissed her,
his mouth crushing hers, answering her need with his own. For a
moment they struggled with each other's clothing, tearing at the
lacing, freeing themselves; and then he had lifted her onto him and
was thrusting deep into her, her legs wrapped about his back, her
pelvis pushing down urgently to meet his movements.

"My love,"
she said, her dark eyes wide, aroused, her fine, small hands
caressing his neck. "Oh my love, my Lord . . ."

LI
YUAN STOOD with his father at the center of the viewing circle,
looking down at the great globe of Chung Kuo, 160,000
li
below.
Down there it was night. Lit from within, the great,
continent-spanning mass of City Europe glowed a soft, almost pearled
white, bordered on all sides by an intensity of blackness. To the
south—beyond the darkness of the Chung Hai, the ancient
Mediterranean—glowed City Africa, its broad, elongated shape
curving out of view; while to the east—separated from City
Europe by the dark barrier of the East European Plantations—City
Asia began, a vast glacier, stretching away into the cold heart of
the immense land mass.

The room in
which they stood was dimly lit; the double doors at the top of the
steps leading to the T'ang's private rooms were closed. It was warm
in the room, yet, as ever, the illusion of coldness prevailed.

"What have
you decided, Father?"

The T'ang turned
to his son, studying him thoughtfully, then smiled.

"To wait to
hear what the Marshal says. He saw the boy this morning."

"Ah . . ."
Li Yuan glanced at the slender folder he was carrying beneath his
arm. In it were copies of the records Karr had brought back with him
from Mars: Berdichev's personal files, taken from the corpse of his
private secretary three days before Karr had caught up with Berdichev
himself.

It had taken
them two weeks to break the complex code, but it had been worth it.
Besides giving them access to a number of secret SimFic files—files
that gave them the location of several special projects Berdichev had
instigated—they had also contained several items of particular
interest.

The first was a
detailed breakdown of the events leading up to the assassination of
the Edict Minister, Lwo Kang, ten years earlier. It was similar in
many respects to the document Tolonen had brought to Li Shai Tung
shortly after the event—the papers drawn up by Major DeVore.
That document, and the web of inference and connection it had drawn,
had been enough to condemn the Dispersionist Edmund Wyatt to death
for treason. But now they knew it for what it was. Though Wyatt had
been against the Seven, he had played no part in the murder of
Minister Lwo. No, he had been set up by his fellow conspirators. But
Wyatt's death, almost as surely as the destruction of the starship
The New Hope
had brought about the War that followed.

Li Yuan looked
back at his father, conscious of how much he had aged in the years
between. The War had emptied him, stripped him of all illusions. Five
years ago he would not have even contemplated the Wiring Project. But
times had changed. New solutions were necessary. The second file was
confirmation of that.

"About the
Aristotle File, Father. Do we know yet if any copies were made?"

Li Shai Tung
looked down past his feet at the blue-white circle of Chung Kuo.

"Nothing as
yet, Yuan. So maybe we've been lucky. Maybe it wasn't disseminated."

"Perhaps. .
." But both knew that the Aristotle File was too important—too
potentially damaging to the Seven—for Berdichev to have kept it
to himself. For it was no less than the true history of Chung Kuo,
the version of events the tyrant Tsao Ch'un had buried beneath his
own.

Li Yuan
shivered, remembering the day he had found out the truth about his
world, recollecting suddenly the dream he had had, a vision of a vast
mountain of bones filling the plain from horizon to horizon. The
foundations of his world.

"You know,
Yuan, I was standing here the night you were bom. It was late and I
was looking down at Chung Kuo, wondering what lay ahead. I had been
dreaming . . ."

He looked up,
meeting his son's eyes.

"Dreaming,
Father?"

The T'ang
hesitated, then gave a small shake of his head. "No matter. Just
that it struck me as strange. The boy and all. . ."

He knew what his
father meant.

The third file
concerned a boy Berdichev had taken a personal interest in, a Claybom
child from the Recruitment Project for whom Berdichev had paid the
extraordinary sum of ten million
yuan.

Part of the file
was a genotyping—a comparison of the child's genetic material
to that of a man alleged to be his father. The result of the
genotyping was conclusive. The man
was
the child's father. And
the man's name? Edmund Wyatt—the person wrongly executed for
orchestrating the assassination of the T'ang's minister, Lwo Kang.

That had been
strange enough, but stranger yet was a footnote to the file; it
revealed that instead of being the work of Soren Berdichev, as was
claimed on the file itself, the Aristotle File had, in fact, been
compiled and authored by the boy.

The fact that
had struck them both, however, was the date the genotyping had given
for the conception of the boy, a date that coincided with a visit
Wyatt, Berdichev, and Lehmann had made to a singsong house in the
Clay.

It was the day
Li Yuan had been bom. The day his mother, Lin Yua, had died giving
birth to him, three months premature.

It was as if the
gods were playing with them. Taking and giving, and never offering an
explanation. But which was the Clayborn boy—gift or curse? On
the evidence of the Aristotle File he seemed—potentially, at
least—a curse; yet if the reports on him were to be believed,
he might prove the greatest asset the Seven possessed. The question
that confronted them—the question they had met today to
answer—was simple: should they attempt to harness his talents
or should they destroy him?

There was a
banging on the great doors at the far end of the room.

"Come in!"
the T'ang answered, turning to face the newcomer.

It was Tolonen.
He strode in purposefully, then stopped three paces from the T'ang,
clicking his heels together and bowing his head.

"Chieh
Hsia."

"Well,
Knut? You've seen the boy. What do you think?"

Tolonen lifted
his head, surprised by the abruptness with which the T'ang had raised
the matter. It was unlike him. He turned briefly to Li Yuan, giving a
small bow, then turned back to Li Shai Tung, a smile forming.

"I liked
him,
Chieh Hsia
. I liked him very much. But that's not what
you asked me, is it? You asked me whether I thought we could trust
the boy. Whether we could risk using him in such a delicate area of
research."

"And?"

Tolonen
shrugged. "I'm still not certain,
Chieh Hsia
. My instinct
tends to confirm what was in the file. He's loyal. The bond he formed
with his tutor, T'ai Cho, for instance, was a strong one. I think
that's inbred in his nature. But then, there's the fight with the boy
Janko to consider and the whole personality reconstruction business
subsequent to that. He's not the same person he was before all that.
We have to ask ourselves how that has affected him. Has it made him
more docile and thus easier to control, or has it destabilized him? I
can't answer that, I'm afraid. I really can't."

The T'ang
considered a moment, then nodded, smiling at his Marshal. "Thank
you, Knut. Your fears are the mirror of my own. I have already signed
the death warrant. I was merely waiting to hear what you would say."

"But,
Father. . ." Li Yuan started forward, then stepped back,
lowering his head. "Forgive me, I..."

Li Shai Tung
stared at his son a moment, surprised by his interruption, then
frowned. "Well, Yuan?"

"A thousand
apologies, Father. I was forgetting myself."

"You wished
to say something?"

Li Yuan bowed.
"I... I merely wished to caution against being too hasty in this
matter."

"Too
hasty?" The old T'ang laughed and looked across at Tolonen.
"I've been told I was many things in my life, but too hasty . .
. What do you mean, Li Yuan? Speak out."

"The boy .
. ." Li Yuan looked up, meeting his father's eyes. "If what
is written about the boy is true, if he is but a fraction as talented
as is said . . . Well, it would be a great waste to kill him."

Li Shai Tung
studied his son carefully. "You forget why we fought the War,
Yuan. To contain change, not to sponsor it. This boy, Kim. Look at
the mischief he has done already with his 'talent.' Look at the file
he made. What is to prevent him making further trouble?"

Li Yuan
swallowed, sensing that everything depended on what he said in the
next few moments, that his father had not quite made up his mind,
even now.

"With
respect, Father, things have changed. We all know that. Our enemies
are different now, subtler, more devious than ever before. And the
means they use have changed, too. While we continue to ignore the
possibilities of technology, they are busy harnessing it—against
us." Li Yuan looked down. "It's as if the gods have given
us a gift to use against our enemies. We have only to monitor him
closely."

"It was
tried before. You forget just how clever the boy is."

Li Yuan nodded.
"I realize that, Father. Even so, I think it can be done."

The T'ang
considered a moment, then turned back, facing Tolonen. "Well,
Knut? What do
you
think?"

Tolonen bowed.
"I think it could be done,
Chieh Hsia.
And would it harm
to delay a little before a final decision is made?"

The T'ang
laughed. "Then I am outnumbered."

Tolonen smiled
back at him. "Your one is bigger than our two,
Chieh Hsia
."

"So it is.
But I'm not a stupid man. Nor inflexible." He turned, facing his
son again. "All right, Yuan. For now I'll leave this in your
hands. You'll arrange the matter of security with Marshal Tolonen
here. But the boy will be your direct responsibility, understand me?
He lives because you wish him to. You will keep my warrant with you
and use it if you must."

Li Yuan smiled
and bowed his head low. "As my father wishes."

"Oh, and
one more thing, Yuan. It would be best if you saw the boy yourself."
He smiled. "You have two places left to fill on the Wiring
Project, I understand."

"I was . .
. keeping them in case."

"I thought
as much. Then go. See the boy at once. And if your view of him
confirms the Marshal's, we'll do as you say. But be careful, Yuan.
Knowledge is a two-edged sword."

When his son was
gone, the T'ang turned back, facing his Marshal.

"Keep me
closely informed, Knut. Yuan is not to know, but I want us to know
where Kim is at all times. Maybe he is what Yuan claims. But what can
be used by us can just as easily be used by our enemies, and I'm
loath to see this one fall back into their hands. You understand me
clearly, Knut?"

"I
understand,
Chieh Hsia."

"Good. Then
let us speak of other matters. Your daughter, Jelka. How is she?"

Tolonen's eyes
brightened. "Much better,
Chieh Hsia.
She is back home
now."

Li Shai Tung
frowned. "Was that wise, Knut? I mean ... to be back where the
attack happened."

"The
doctors thought it best. And I ... well, for all that happened, I
felt she would be safest there."