He sat there on the High Throne, dressed in the dragon robe of imperial yellow edged with blue. In one hand he held the Special Edict, in the other the bamboo cane with the silver cap that had been his brother’s present to his father.
There was the faintest murmur from below, but when he stood the hall fell silent, followed a moment later by a loud rustling of expensive silks as, in a single movement, the great crowd knelt, touching their heads to the floor three times in the ritual liu k’ou. Li Yuan smiled bleakly, remembering another day, nine years ago, the day when his father had summoned the leaders of the Dispersionists before him, here in this very hall, and humbled them, making their leader, Lehmann, give up his friend, Wyatt. Much had changed since then, but once again the will of the T’ang had to be imposed. By agreement it was hoped, but by force if necessary.
Li Yuan came down, stopping three steps from the bottom, facing the five elderly men who stood at the front of the crowd. His Chancellor, Nan Ho, stood to the right, the list scrolled tightly in one hand. Behind him, just beyond the nearest of the dragon pillars, a troop of élite guards waited, their shaven heads bowed low.
He looked past the five Family heads at the great press of men behind them. All had their heads lowered, their eyes averted, acknowledging his supremacy. Right now they were obedient, but would they remain so when they knew his purpose? Would they understand the need for this, or would they defy him? He shivered, then looked back at the five who stood closest.
He saw how the hands of nephews and cousins reached from behind Chun Wu-chi, supporting him, keeping him from falling; saw how frail his once-father-in-law, Yin Tsu, had become; how the first signs of senility had crept into the eighty-three-year-old face of Pei Ro-hen. Only An Sheng and Hsiang Shao-erh, both men in their fifties, seemed robust. Even so, the Minor Families had thrived – a dozen, fifteen sons not uncommon amongst them – while the Seven had diminished. Why was that? he wondered for the first time. Was it merely the pressures of rule, the depredations of war and politics, or was it symptomatic of some much deeper malaise?
There was silence in the hall, but behind it he could feel the invisible pressure of their expectations. Many of them had heard rumours of the sickness; even so, most were wondering why he had summoned them. Why, in this unprecedented manner, they were standing here in the Great Hall at Tongjiang, waiting for him to speak.
Well, now they would know. He would put paid to all speculation.
‘Ch’un tzu!’ he began, his voice resonant, powerful. ‘I have summoned you here today because we face a crisis – perhaps the greatest crisis the Families have ever faced.’
Li Yuan looked across the sea of lowered heads, aware of the power he exercised over these men, but conscious also of what that power rested upon. They obeyed him because they had agreed among themselves to obey him. Take away that agreement – that mandate – and what followed?
He took a breath then continued.
‘More than fifty of our number are dead. Another three hundred, I am told, are sick or close to death. And the cause of this mysterious illness? Something we thought we had rid ourselves of long ago – yang mei ping. Willow-plum sickness!’
There was an audible murmur of surprise and a number of heads moved agitatedly, but as yet no one dared meet his eyes. He moved on, keeping his voice calm, letting the authority of his position fill his words.
‘In the past, I am told, the disease would have killed only after long months of suffering, leading to blindness and eventual madness, but this is a new, more virulent strain – one that our Families are no longer immune to. It is a brain-killer. It can strike down a healthy man – or woman – in less than thirty hours, though, as is the way of such diseases, not all succumb immediately to the virus but become carriers. That, in itself, is horrible enough, but this strain, it seems, is particularly vile, for it is racially specific. It affects only we Han.’
Shocked faces were looking up at him now, forgetting all propriety. Deliberately ignoring this lapse, Li Yuan pressed on, saying what must be said.
‘Such are the facts. What we must now ask ourselves is what can we do to combat this disease? There is no cure neither is there time to find one. No cure, that is, but the most drastic of preventative measures.’
Hsiang Shao-erh was looking up at him, his eyes half-lidded, deeply suspicious. ‘What do you mean, Chieh Hsia?’
Li Yuan met the older man’s gaze firmly. ‘I mean that we must test everyone in this hall. Wives and children too. And then we must find those outside the Families – man or woman – who have been in contact with anyone from the Families.’
‘In contact, Chieh Hsia?’
The words were framed politely, but he noted Hsiang’s hostility. Hsiang had already lost his eldest son to the virus and it was clear that he saw the drift of Li Yuan’s speech.
He answered unflinchingly. ‘In sexual contact. How else do you think the disease was spread?’
Again he felt the ripples of shock pass through the hall. Despite his reference to willow-plum sickness, many had simply not understood until that moment. A low buzz ran from one end of the hall to the other.
‘But surely, Chieh Hsia—?’
Li Yuan cut Hsiang off sharply, his patience snapping. ‘Silence! All of you, be silent now! I have not finished.’
The hall fell silent, heads were lowered again, but only a pace or so from him Hsiang glared back at him, bristling with anger. Li Yuan looked past him, addressing the great mass.
‘We must test everyone. We must track down every last victim – especially the carriers – of this disease.’
‘And then?’ The voice was Hsiang Shao-erh’s. Stubborn, defiant.
Li Yuan looked back at him. ‘And then they must die.’
The hall erupted. Li Yuan looked out across the seething crowd, seeing the angry opposition, but also the strong agreement, his words had engendered. Arguments raged on every side. Just beneath him, Hsiang Shao-erh and An Sheng were protesting loudly, their arms gesticulating, their faces dark with anger, while Yin Tsu and Pei Ro-han attempted to remonstrate with them. For a while he let it go on, knowing that this violent flood of feelings must be allowed its channel, then he raised one hand, palm outward. Slowly the hall fell silent again.
He looked down at Hsiang Shao-erh. ‘You wish to say something, cousin?’
Hsiang took a pace forward, placing one foot on the first step of the High Throne, seeming almost to threaten his T’ang. He spat the words out angrily.
‘I protest, Chieh Hsia! You cannot do this! We are Family, not hsiao jen! Never in our history have we been subjected to such humiliation! To make us take this test of yours would be to undermine our word, our honour as ch’un tzu! Why, it is tantamount to saying that we are all fornicators and cheats on our wives!’
Li Yuan shook his head. ‘And the deaths? The spread of the disease? Are these things mere ghosts and idle rumours?’
‘There are a few, I admit. Young bucks… but even so…’
‘A few!’ Li Yuan spat the words back angrily, almost contemptuously, taking a step forward, almost pushing his face into Hsiang’s, forcing him to take a step back. ‘You are a fool, Hsiang, to think of face at such a time! Do you really believe I would do this if it were not necessary? Do you think I would risk damaging my relationship with you, my cousins, if there were not some far greater threat?’
Hsiang opened his mouth, then closed it again, taken aback by the unexpected violence of Li Yuan’s counter-attack.
‘This is a war,’ Li Yuan said, looking past him again, addressing the massed sons and cousins. ‘And upon its outcome depends how Chung Kuo will be in years to come. Whether there will be good, stable rule – the rule of Seven and Twenty-Nine – or chaos. To think that we can fight such a war without losses – without sacrifices – is both ridiculous and untenable.’
He looked back directly at Hsiang. ‘Do not mistake me, Hsiang Shao-erh. Face, honour, a man’s word, these are the very things that bind ou
r society in times of peace, and I would defend them before any man, yet in times of war we must let go sometimes of our high ideals, if but briefly. We must bow, like the reeds before the wind, or go down, like a great tree in a storm.’
Hsiang lowered his eyes. ‘Chieh Hsia…’
‘Good. Then you will sign the paper, Hsiang Shao-erh?’
Hsiang looked up again. ‘The paper?’
Nan Ho brought the scroll across. Li Yuan turned, offering it to Hsiang. ‘Here. I have prepared a document. I would not have it said that the compact between Seven and Twenty-Nine was broken. There must be agreement between us, even in this matter.’
Li Yuan stood there, holding the document out towards Hsiang Shao-erh. As his father had, so he now seemed the very embodiment of imperial power; unyielding, like the famous rock in the Yellow River which, for centuries, had withstood the greatest of floods.
Hsiang stared at the scroll, then looked up at his T’ang, his voice smaller suddenly, more querulous. ‘And if any here refuse?’
Li Yuan did not hesitate. ‘Then the compact is ended, the Great Wheel broken.’
Hsiang shuddered. For a moment longer he stood there, hesitant, staring at the document. Then, suddenly, he lowered his head. ‘Very well, Chieh Hsia. I will sign.’
Afterwards, while the Families were queuing to be tested, Nan Ho went to Li Yuan in his study.
‘Forgive me, Chieh Hsia,’ he said, bowing low, ‘but I did not understand. Why did Hsiang Shao-erh oppose you just now? I would have thought, with his eldest son dead, he would have been the first to sanction your actions – to prevent the deaths of more of his sons.’
Li Yuan sighed. ‘So it would have been, I’m sure, Master Nan, but the chao tai hui where the sickness was originally spread was held on Hsiang’s estate. Oh, he had nothing to do with the organization of the affair – that was all his son, K’ai Fan’s doing – neither was Hsiang Shao-erh responsible for the sickness itself. However, he feels responsible. Many among the Twenty-Nine blame him, irrational as that is. As a consequence he has lost great face. That display today was an attempt to regain his face. Unfortunately, I could not allow it. Now, I am afraid, I have made an enemy.’
‘Things can be smoothed over, surely, Chieh Hsia? A gift, perhaps…’
Li Yuan shook his head. ‘I made him challenge me. And then I broke him before his equals. It had to be done, but there is no repairing it. No, so we must watch ourselves from that quarter from henceforth. Wang Sau-leyan is sure to hear of what happened here today. No doubt he will try to exploit the division between Hsiang and me.’
The Chancellor shook his head, then looked up again. ‘Forgive me, Chieh Hsia, but do you not think death too extreme a penalty? After all, it was not their fault that they picked up this sickness. Have you not considered, perhaps, castrating those found with the virus? Those, that is, who would not die of it anyway.’
‘No, Master Nan. Had they been servants we might well have done that, but these are Family. Such a humiliation would have been worse than death for them. Besides, what of the women they have infected? What are we to do with them? Sew them up?’
Nan Ho gave a brief, uncomfortable laugh, then bowed his head. ‘I had not thought, Chieh Hsia.’
Li Yuan smiled sadly. ‘Never mind. Go now, Master Nan. Go and supervise the screening. I will expect you three hours from now to give your report on the proceedings.’
‘Chieh Hsia…’
Li Yuan sat back. There were other things to consider now; other sicknesses to rid the world of. The Young Sons, for instance, and the virus of the Aristotle File. He sighed and leaned forward again, punching in the code that would connect him with Tsu Ma in Astrakhan.
It was time to act. Time to draw in the nets and see what fish they had caught.
Wu Shih, T’ang of North America, raised his eyes from the small screen inset into his desk and looked across at the huge image of Li Yuan’s face that filled the facing wall.
He gave a deep sigh, then placed his hands palm down on the desk, clearly disturbed by what he had just seen.
‘Well, cousin. I must thank you. The tape is quite conclusive. Even so, I feel nothing but sadness that it has come to this. I had hoped that I could persuade them somehow from their folly, but it is much more than mere folly, isn’t it? More than boredom or high spirits. This can lead to one thing only – rebellion and the overthrow of the Seven. I have to act. You understand that?’
Li Yuan nodded. ‘Of course,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Which is why I have already spoken with Tsu Ma. He agrees. And the sooner the better. The Sons of Benjamin Franklin are not the only group. There are similar factions in the other Cities, linked to the Young Sons. If we are to act, it would be best if we acted in concert, neh? Tonight, if possible. At twelfth bell.’
‘And the other T’ang?’
Li Yuan shook his head. ‘There’s no time for that. Besides, if Wang Sau-leyan were to learn, it’s likely there would be no one there to arrest. He has a funny way with “secrets”.’
Wu Shih looked down, considering, then nodded. ‘All right. Twelfth bell. And you will act elsewhere? You and Tsu Ma?’
‘At twelfth bell.’ He made to cut the connection.
‘Li Yuan! Wait! What of the boy? Do you think they will suspect his role in this?’
Li Yuan laughed. ‘How could they? Even he doesn’t know what he has been these past few days.’
Wu Shih gave a small laugh. ‘Even so, should I take steps to get him out?’
Li Yuan shook his head. ‘No. Any such move might alert them. Ensure only that your men do not harm him by mistake.’
Wu Shih lowered his head slightly, a mark of respect that he had often made to Yuan’s father, Li Shai Tung, and an implicit acknowledgment of where the real leadership lay within the Seven.
Li Yuan smiled. ‘Then goodnight, cousin. We shall speak in the morning. Once things are better known.’
The Lever Mansion was a huge, two-storey house with gables, standing in its own wooded grounds. Outside it was dark, the house lights reflected brightly in the dark waters of the nearby lake. In the centre of the mansion’s bold façade was a pillared entrance, its wide, double doors open, light spilling out on to a gravel drive. Dark sedans, some antique, some reproduction, lined the entrance road, their runners dressed in a black-suited livery that matched the ancient crest on the sides of the sedans. All evening they had gone back and forth, ferrying guests between the house and the transit, almost a li away.
The illusion was almost perfect. The darkness hid the walls of the surrounding decks, while above, a thick, dark blue cloth masked the ice of the stack’s uppermost floor, like a starless night sky.
Kim stood there between the trees, in darkness, looking back at the house. This was the third time he had come to Richmond, to the Lever Mansion, but it was the first time he had seen the house in darkness. Tonight they were throwing a ball. A party for the elite of their City – the Supernal, as they called themselves. It was the first time he had heard the term used and it amused him to think of himself, so low in birth, mixing in such high company. He was not drunk – he took care never to touch alcohol or drugs – but merely mixing in the atmosphere of the house was enough to create a mild euphoria. The air was chill, sharp. In the trees nearby the leaves rustled in a mild, artificial breeze. Kim smiled, enjoying the strangeness of it all, and reached out to touch the smooth bark of one of the pines.
‘Kim?’
A tall, elegant young man in old-fashioned evening dress stood at the edge of the gravel, calling him. It was Michael Lever.
‘I’m here,’ he said, stepping out from the trees. ‘I was just getting some air.’ Lever greeted him, more than a ch’i taller than him, straight-backed and blond, an American …
‘Come on through,’ he said, smiling. ‘Father was asking after you.’
Kim let himself be ushered inside once more, through reception room and ballroom and out into a smaller, quieter space beyond. Leather
doors closed behind him. The room was dimly lit, pervaded by the tart smell of cigar smoke. Old Man Lever was sitting on the far side of the room, beside the only lamp, his friends gathered about him in high-backed leather chairs. Old men, like himself. By the window stood a group of younger men. Michael joined them, accepting a drink from one, then turned back, looking across at Kim.
Charles Lever lit up a new cigar, then beckoned Kim over. ‘Here, Kim. Take a seat.’ He indicated the empty chair beside him. ‘There are some people here – friends of mine – I want you to meet.’
Old men. The thought flashed through Kim’s mind. Old men, afraid of dying.
He sat in the huge, uncomfortable chair, ill at ease, nodding acknowledgment to each of the men in turn; noting each face and placing it. These were big men. Powerful men. Each of them Lever’s equal. So what had Lever said? What had Lever promised he could do for them?
‘We were talking,’ Lever said, turning in his chair to look at Kim. ‘Chewing things over among ourselves. And I was telling my friends here about your new company. About Chih Chu. Potentially a nice little outfit, but small, undercapitalized.’
Kim looked down, surprised that Lever knew already.
Lever cleared his throat, then nodded, as if satisfied by his own evaluation of things. ‘And I was saying what a shame it was. Because I’ve seen your like before, Kim. A hot property with plenty of good, strong ideas and lots of get-up-and-go, but nothing to back it up. There’s a pattern to it, too. I’ve seen how they’ve built things up – how they’ve grown really fast. Up to a certain point. And then…’ He shook his head and looked down at the cigar smouldering between his fingers. ‘Then they’ve tried to move up a league. Into manufacturing. Because it’s a shame to let the big industrials take so large a share of the cut. Galling, even.’
The young men by the window were watching him intently, almost suspiciously. Kim could feel their eyes on him; could almost sense what they were thinking. What would this mean for them? For if their fathers lived for ever…
The White Mountain Page 5