Above the ancient limestone parapet, the banner fluttered on the breeze that blew in from the east.
It was just before dawn and in the faint pre-morning light, the Ywe Lung, the great wheel of dragons that was emblazoned on the banner, could barely be discerned, the seven powerful forms blurred into a great circular swirl of black.
It was early, yet already Tongjiang was a hive of activity. Through the glowing windows of the palace one could glimpse servants running this way and that, making their final preparations. Grim-faced stewards dressed in sombre black robes barked out orders while lesser minions bowed and scraped and hurried here and there, bearing loads of silver and crystal and finest antique porcelain, for today was the day of Li Peng’s coming of age.
In his dressing chamber, Li Chao Ch’in, the lord of Tongjiang, member of the Council of Seven, stood at the great stone window, letting his Master of the Bedchamber, Cho Yi Yi, bring his ceremonial clothes and dress him. As he was dressed, he looked out past the high walls of his palace towards the northern mountains as the light leaked back into the world and things took on form and colour once again.
He was glad this day had come; proud that his son had grown so tall and true. Li Peng was a strong, handsome young man, a credit to his family and his race. Today Li Chao Ch’in would present him to his fellow lords, and to his Master, Tsao Ch’un himself.
Today, Li Peng would officially become his heir, his right-hand man and helper, and a prince in his own right. From today his son might even take his place at Council, if need be – if he, Li Chao Ch’in, were ill or otherwise indisposed.
He smiled. It was a good day. A day to celebrate.
His thoughts drifted back momentarily, to the early days, when the whole world had been against them, and they had fought to impose their will upon the land. Back then each day had been a struggle, and he had often thought he would never see a day like this – never see a son of his grow strong and tall, the very image of himself. As solid as an iron link in a great chain. Just the thought of it made his heart swell, tears form at the corners of his eyes.
Li Peng was twenty-five years old! So brief a time, it was, and yet so long in terms of what they had achieved. When Li Peng had been born, there had been no Chung Kuo, only a thousand fractured, warring states, like a shattered bowl that needed to be mended.
For the past four years, since he was twenty-one, Li Peng had spent most of his waking hours with his father, learning the tasks which one day he would inherit, when he was one of the Seven, and T’ang. And that day would surely come, now that the world was pacified. Now that there were no more enemies to fight.
‘Master…’
He turned slightly, letting Cho Yi Yi fasten the buttons of his ceremonial jacket, a long, green silk gown decorated with royal-blue medallions, each one stamped with a miniature version of the Ywe Lung that flapped and fluttered from the great oak pole outside.
Elsewhere, he knew, his wives and daughters would be getting dressed, putting on their finest silks for the occasion. Likewise, in the various guest chambers scattered throughout the palace, his fellow T’ang would be up and readying themselves. For this was not just a family occasion. One day Li Peng would join their sons, taking his place in Council alongside those others, like Tsu Lin, Tsu Chen’s son, Fan Li, son of Fan Chang, and Wang Lung, Wang Hui So’s eldest boy.
All of them fine fellows. Every last one of them proud to be their fathers’ sons. Proud to one day take on the burden that their fathers daily carried; to be part of this grand venture which, in their lifetimes, had come to such fruition.
Li Chao Ch’in took a deep breath. On days like this he could think of nothing he wanted more than to serve; to offer up his life and those of his family to the great cause of unity. To be his Master’s hands…
They had come a long distance, all of them. But now, today, they could relax and look back down that path from whence they’d come.
Twenty-five years…
Li Chao Ch’in turned from the window, looking about him at those who stood by, their heads lowered, obedient to his wishes. He grinned broadly, his smile instantly mirrored back from a dozen familiar faces.
‘Such a day…’ he cried, raising his arms, as if to embrace them all. ‘Such a fine and glorious day!’
Li Peng stood among his cousins, staring down at the marbled floor, his face set and hard.
The ceremony ought to have started an hour back. The great hall was packed, the Seven gathered on the dais just across from him. Everyone who was anyone was there. Or almost so. For one person wasn’t.
Tsao Ch’un had not come. Or rather, word was that he was delayed. He had been due two hours back. He had promised Li Chao Ch’in he would come, to give his blessing. Only the due time had come and gone and still there was no sign of him.
‘Where is the man?’ Tsu Lin hissed beneath his breath, so only his fellow sons – cousins as they called themselves – could hear.
‘Fucking some maid, no doubt,’ Wang Lung whispered, his tense body language revealing just how angry he was.
‘It is a snub,’ Pei Lin-Yi, the eldest of them, said impatiently, a scowl on his lips. ‘By insulting you, Li Peng, he insults us all.’
‘Hush now,’ Li Peng said, disturbed by what was being said. ‘He is our Master, after all. We are but…’
‘His hands…’ the others said, as one. But for once there was a darkness behind the expression. To be late was one thing. But to send no word of explanation…
Li Peng’s head went down again. It wasn’t anger he felt but disappointment. Bitter disappointment. It felt almost as if Tsao Ch’un was making a point. Keeping them waiting to remind them who was Master here.
Maybe. But was this the way to treat one’s most loyal servants?
There was a sudden buzz of noise from the main body of the hall. Li Peng’s head bobbed up at the sound. Had he come? Was Tsao Ch’un here?
At the far end of the hall, near the two big doors that led out to the gardens, there was a disturbance in the crowd. People were being pushed aside. Voices were being raised. At first Li Peng didn’t understand, but then, as the crowd separated, he saw what it was and recognized one of the intruders, a big brute of a man who was naked to the waist.
Li Peng’s mouth fell open in shock.
It was Tsao Ch’un’s bodyguards! His so-called ‘Honest Men’ – a hand-picked little mob of murderers and cut-throats that he had come to depend upon more and more of late. Word had it that they they lorded it over the Black Tower, taking their authority direct from Tsao Ch’un. That their word – their wishes – were as his. Only what were they doing here? To bring them here was unthinkable. An outrage!
The heavens knew Tsao Ch’un had been unpredictable of late, but this was shocking behaviour even by his standards.
Li Peng looked across, saw at once how his father had blanched at the sight of Tsao Ch’un’s men. How he now lifted his robes in one hand and hurried towards the stairs.
‘Aiya!’ he said, hastening to join his father, pushing past his cousins in his haste. ‘Kuan Yin preserve us from such men!’
Tsao Ch’un set the bottle down then slapped his thighs, his laughter echoing across the room.
The expression on Li Chao Ch’in’s face was a delight. He looked like a man who had swallowed a wasp. And that stuck-up prig of a son of his…
The very thought of it soured his mood. That they should have such sons, whilst he…
Tsao Ch’un shook his head then clambered to his feet. Three wastrels was what he had. Three good-for-nothing arsewipes barely fit to tie their own shoelaces.
That was being a bit hard, perhaps, but it was not too far from the truth. Gambling was what they liked, and drinking, and whoring. Especially the last.
Not that he himself didn’t like a wench. Only he worried sometimes that that was all his sons wanted.
The trouble was – and he knew himself well enough to know it for the truth – he was becoming paranoid in his old ag
e. He had begun to mistrust everyone.
There was, of course, good reason. Only last year, two of his wives – two of his favourites – had been killed in an explosion in his bedroom. He too would have died had he not spent the night in some other woman’s bed. Which was why, now, he trusted no one but his Honest Men – his little band of rogues. Men he had freed from where they had been rotting in the cells. Men who owed him their lives.
And then this thing today, this… ceremony… this coming of age…
Tsao Ch’un spat, then waved at the screen.
It went blank.
To him Li Peng’s coming-of-age ceremony smacked too much of their pride. Of a smugness on the part of the Seven. He wasn’t sure he liked the way his advisors preened themselves; how they dressed and spoke, and raised their sons to inherit. Oh, it made a kind of sense, of course. They had been good servants in their day, and to raise their sons in that tradition seemed a natural thing to do. Only… when he thought of their sons and his…
Tsao Ch’un let out a troubled breath. He might have blamed his mood on ill health; after all, he had been sleeping badly these last few weeks and the pains in his legs had grown worse. Only the truth was otherwise. The truth was he had run out of challenges. Once you had unified a world and destroyed every last one of your enemies, what was left to do?
No. The truth was he was bored. Bored to the point of malice. Hence his little prank today.
Only maybe he had gone too far.
Tsao Ch’un narrowed his eyes, thinking on the matter. Then, raising his arms, he clapped his hands together sharply. At once a dozen servants ran to him, stopping five yards short of where he was sitting, throwing themselves down onto their knees, their foreheads pressed to the cold stone flags.
‘Master…’
The word hissed out from a dozen mouths.
‘Steward Ling!’ he yelled, pointing to the man. ‘Bring my cloak and prepare the royal craft. I am going to Tongjiang!’
‘Master…’
And they crawled away backwards, on their bellies, like the dogs they were, hastening to do their Master’s bidding.
At that moment, in Tsao Ch’un’s capital, Pei Ching, one of GenSyn’s junior executives was sitting in the anteroom of the Department of Contracts, the business arm of Tsao Ch’un’s civil service.
The reception area, decorated in the T’ang dynasty style and complete with carp pond, was hugely impressive, one of the most pleasant places Reed had had to wait in these last few months – and he had waited in a great many.
A white tiled pathway led away from where he sat, through a garden filled with red plum blossom and fresh green stalks of bamboo. To the side of his seat was a small table of black carven wood, on which was a tray of sweet-meats and fruit and various delicious-scented cordials.
Hungry as he was, he left the tray alone, conscious of how important the upcoming meeting was. It would not do to go into that room with grape seeds between his teeth.
It had taken Reed the best part of a year to get this far. But this afternoon, after endless dead ends and disappointments, he would finally get a decision.
He was there to see John Buck, the Ministry’s Head of Development. But Buck was only the mouthpiece. He’d be the one who did all the talking; who’d ask all the questions and answer any queries Reed had. But the decision would be made by his superior, Chen So I. Reed knew he would sit in the background, listening silently while Buck and he talked.
That was how these men did business, never sullying their hands with commonplace matters, merely giving a yes or no, without need for explanation.
The thought of it made his heart race. To have come so far…
Reed also knew, of course, that Chen So I would not have seen him had he not been interested. GenSyn were not, after all, a big company. Not like MedFac and NorTek. There was no real need for Chen So I to keep them sweet. Nor was Reed himself influential enough to warrant special attention. Which was why, for once, the decision would be made purely on the merits of the project itself.
It was almost unheard of, to the best of his knowledge.
More than a dozen times he’d had the door shut on him – had been thrown out of some junior official’s office and told not to waste their time. But there were many doors and many doorkeepers, and he had persevered where others might have given up. Had persuaded several not-so-jaded junior appointees that to be on board such a project could only do their careers good.
And so he hoped it would prove. He was not, in that regard, spinning a line. Reed believed in the project. The fact that it had lain dormant for almost twenty years did not matter, nor that the first attempt at developing it had been a woeful failure. It was still a first-rate idea, and if he could get the Seven to agree, then both they and he – and GenSyn, of course – would benefit hugely.
A small, tidy-looking Han in dark blue silks came down the path towards him. He stopped then bowed low.
‘Shih Reed… if you would like to come through…’
He followed the man, through the Moon Door and past the carp pond, over a wooden bridge and into a long, shaded office. There at the far end, in what felt to Reed like the audience room of some ancient Chinese palace, Buck was waiting. He was standing before his desk, his hand out, a pleasant smile on his face.
‘Peter… at last we get to meet!’
In the shadows beyond Buck, Chen So I sat like a statue, his bald pate gleaming golden in the low, flickering light of a massive red wax candle that burned to one side.
Reed shook Buck’s hand, then sat.
Buck sat down at his desk, watching Reed a moment. Then, steepling his hands before him, he smiled once more.
‘Interesting,’ he began. ‘Very interesting indeed. Not the usual kind of proposition we get at Contracts.’
‘No,’ Reed answered, smiling tensely.
‘Well,’ Buck added, after a moment, ‘the reason it’s taken me so long to get back to you is obvious, I guess. I wanted to know a little more about this “project” of yours. I wanted to know its history particularly. Where it came from. Who developed it.’
Reed smiled. He had expected as much. ‘And?’
‘And we had to pull some teeth to get hold of that information.’
‘Ah… the Ministry…’
Buck’s smile faded then returned. ‘It’s a compelling idea, Peter. Exact copies of people. I’d say that that was the best insurance policy a rich man, or a powerful one, could have, neh? I can see how you might have developed this, let’s say, outside of official channels. A lot of men would pay a great deal for what you’re offering. But you were right to come to us. Contracts is where this belongs. Everything straight and above board. Controlled by those it ought to be controlled by. But then you knew that, didn’t you?’
Reed shifted uncomfortably.
‘One question, though,’ Buck said.
‘Go on…’
‘Would we be dealing with you directly if we were to sanction this?’
Reed swallowed. ‘I’m… not sure. Our chairman, Shih Ebert…’
Unexpectedly, Chen So I spoke. ‘I am sorry, Shih Reed,’ he said. He leaned forward a little, his face showing momentarily in the candle’s light, like an ancient yellowed tapestry briefly glimpsed. ‘I am afraid that we would insist upon it as a condition. We have been impressed by your… discretion, let’s call it. By your sure and certain knowledge just where this ought to be placed and with whom.’
Reed’s mouth had gone dry. Had they just said yes? And was their only condition that he be directly involved? If so…
‘A matter like this,’ Buck took up, ‘involves trust at the very highest level. To clone a man is something, but to clone a great man… well… all manner of dangers are implicit in the process. We must be absolutely sure with whom we deal, and that our dealings are closely monitored. To have a man we trust…’
Reed bowed his head. ‘I am honoured.’
‘Good,’ Chen So I said, standing suddenly. ‘The
n we have a deal, Shih Reed.’
Buck too had stood. Now he put out his hand again and clasped Reed’s firmly. ‘Our contract will be with you by this evening, Peter. And thanks. I’m looking forward to doing business with you.’
Back in his hotel room, sitting on his bed, waiting to be connected to his father, he knew that he ought to have asked a lot more questions – like how much Contracts were going to pay, and how many units they were willing to purchase.
Only he knew that wasn’t how it worked. You didn’t haggle with those people. You could only walk away from an agreement with them.
Besides, it would all be in the contract, and Buck had promised it for that evening. It would be all right. He was sure of it. After all, they wanted this every bit as much as GenSyn.
Yes, but what if they wanted it all done on the cheap? And what if Ebert didn’t like what they were offering? He could be very prickly about those kind of details.
All right. But would he dare turn down a Ministry contract? Would he dare to sully those waters and risk leaving GenSyn out in the cold, shunned by those who had influence in the markets?
For the briefest moment Reed examined the possibility. Taking it to Contracts had been a high-risk strategy. An all-or-nothing venture. That said, not even Wolfgang Ebert would turn down the chance of working with the Seven on this. Whatever the terms. Because even if this didn’t turn a profit, it would at least open doors, and once those doors were open…
Yes, he thought. We’ve been out in the cold far too long.
It was time to pick up where they’d left off and start to grow again.
Even so, he couldn’t help but be excited. It had been a long, hard grind and he’d been close to giving up many times. Only now he had a deal. And not just any deal. A deal with Tsao Ch’un’s Ministry of Contracts.
Peter smiled. Meg would be pleased now that it was settled, and not just for the fat bonus he would make. He’d not seen a lot of her these past few weeks, and things had been a little tense. But he’d make it up to her.
The comset buzzed. His mother’s face appeared on the screen.
Daylight on Iron Mountain Page 18