Ice and Fire: Chung Kuo Series

by David Wingrove

Berdichev laughed. It had all been rather easy to manage in the circumstances. The Board had agreed the deal at once, and to help facilitate matters he had offered eight of the ten sitting members an increase in their yearly stipend. The other two he had wanted out anyway, and when the vote went against them he had accepted their resignations without argument. As for the matter of the aggrieved parents, their claim was dropped when they received his counter-claim for two hundred million – his estimate of the potential loss of earnings SimFic would suffer if Kim was permanently brain-damaged. They had been further sweetened by an out-of-court no-liability-accepted settlement of fifty thousand yuan. More than enough in exchange for their dull-witted son.

  But what damage had it done? What would Kim be like when the wraps came off and the scars had healed? Not the physical scars, for they were miraculously slight, but the deeper scars – the psychological ones?

  He shuddered, feeling suddenly closer to Kim than he had ever been. As if the Wu’s reading had connected him somehow to the boy. The sun was buried in the earth once more, but would it rise again? Would Kim become again what he had been? Or was he simple, unawakened Clay?

  Ten million yuan. That was how much he had gambled on Kim’s full and complete recovery. And the possible return? He laughed. Maybe a thousand times as much! Maybe nothing.

  Berdichev got up and wiped his hands on his jacket, then turned to the two SimFic guards, indicating that they should take the boy away. Then, when they had gone, he crossed the cell and looked at its second occupant. This one was also trussed.

  He laughed and addressed the corpse of the Director. ‘You thought you’d fuck with me, eh, Andersen? Well, no one does that and gets away with it. No one. Not even you.’

  Still laughing, he turned and left the cell.

  Chapter 42

  ICE AND FIRE

  Be patient, Li Yuan, we’ll not be much longer now!’

  Pearl Heart tugged the two wings of his collar together with a show of mock annoyance, then fastened the first of the four tiny catches. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, Pearl Heart kneeling on the floor in front of him, dressing him, while Sweet Rose knelt on the bed, behind him, brushing and braiding his hair.

  The younger girl laughed softly. ‘Your hair’s so long, Li Yuan. Such good, strong hair. It doesn’t split easily.’ She leaned forward, brushing her nose against it, breathing in its scent. ‘I wish I had such hair, dear Yuan.’

  He made to turn and speak to her, but Pearl Heart gently brought his head back round, tutting to herself. The last two catches were always the most tricky to fasten.

  Li Yuan laughed softly. ‘Your hair is lovely too, Sweet Rose. And never more lovely than when it rests across my lap.’

  Sweet Rose blushed and looked down, reminded of what they had been up to only hours before. Pearl Heart looked up into his face, amused. ‘Perhaps you’d like all five of us next time?’

  He looked past her, smiling. ‘Perhaps…’

  ‘Still,’ she continued, frowning with concentration as she tried to fix the last of the catches. ‘It will be good for you to get some exercise.’

  Li Yuan laughed, delighted. ‘You really think so, Pearl Heart? After last night?’

  She leaned back away from him with a sigh, the collar fastened at last, then shook her head, her eyes sparkling.

  ‘You young men. You think you’re real horsemen simply because you can keep at it all night long, don’t you? But there’s more to horsemanship than keeping in the saddle!’

  Sweet Rose had gone silent, her head bowed. Pearl Heart looked back. Li Yuan was staring at her strangely. She thought back, then ducked her head, blushing, realizing how she had linked the two things. Li Yuan was about to go out riding with Fei Yen, and there she was saying…

  ‘Forgive me, Prince, I didn’t mean…’

  But Li Yuan simply leaned forward and took her head between his hands, kissing her forehead before pressing her face down into his lap and closing his legs about her playfully.

  She fought up away, enjoying the game, then stood there a few paces off, admiring him. Sweet Rose had finished and had placed a riding hat upon his tight-coiled hair. He was dressed entirely in green, from hat down to boots: a dozen subtle shades of green, yet each of them fresh and bright, reminiscent of the first days of spring, when the snow has just thawed.

  ‘You look…’ She laughed and clapped her hands. ‘You look like a prince, Li Yuan!’

  He laughed with her, then turned to give Sweet Rose a farewell peck before rushing off.

  The two maids watched him go, then began to tidy the room. As Pearl Heart stripped the covers from the cushions, she noticed the square of silk beneath one of them. It was a pale lilac with the pictogram of the Yin family in green in one corner. She knew at once whose it was, and lifted it to her nose briefly before returning it, making no mention to Sweet Rose.

  ‘She’s beautiful, don’t you think, Pearl Heart?’

  Sweet Rose was gazing outward through the open doorway, following the figure of Li Yuan as he made his way through the gardens.

  ‘They say there’s no one quite as beautiful in all the Families as Fei Yen. But she’s a hua pao, a flowery panther. She’s headstrong and wilful, for all her beauty.’

  Sweet Rose sighed and looked back at her older sister. ‘And Li Yuan, he seems to love her like a brother.’

  Pearl Heart laughed. ‘Have you seen how his eyes grow soft at the merest glimpse of her. He’s hooked, the poor little one.’

  ‘Ah…’ Sweet Rose glanced round once more, then busied herself, disturbed by what Pearl Heart had said. A moment later, while she was gathering up the linen, she stopped suddenly and looked up again, her eyes moist. ‘Then I feel pity for him, Pearl Heart. For nothing can come of it.’

  Pearl Heart nodded sagely. ‘It is our law, Sweet Rose. A man cannot marry his brother’s wife. And there’s wisdom in that law, mei mei, for think what would come of things were it not so. There are men who would murder their own brothers for the sake of a worthless woman!’

  Sweet Rose looked down. ‘And yet we are sisters. And we share a man.’

  Pearl Heart laughed and began to take the new silk sheets from the drawer. ‘Li Yuan’s a boy, and they’re less complex than men. But in any case, the whole thing’s totally different. We are here only to help him and teach him. We must think not of ourselves but of the future T’ang.’

  Sweet Rose studied her sister a moment, noting how she busied herself as if unconcerned. But she had heard the undertone of bitterness in her voice and could see the faint trace of regret at the corners of her mouth and in her eyes and knew that, whatever else she said, she too was just a little in love with the young Prince.

  ‘What are you reading?’

  Fei Yen half turned her face towards him, then smiled and set the book down on the wooden ledge beside her. ‘Ah, Yuan, I wondered when you’d come.’

  She was sitting in a bower overlooking one of the garden’s tiny waterfalls. The interlaced branches of the maple overhead threw her features into shadow as she looked at him, but he could see that her hair had been put up in a complex bun, the dark, fine bunches held there by tiny ivory combs no bigger than his thumb nail. She was wearing a waist-length, curve-edged riding-tunic with a high collar, the satin a delicate lavender with the thinnest edging of black, while her riding breeches were of dark blue silk, cut almost to her figure. Her boots were of kid leather, dyed to match the breeches.

  He let his query pass. ‘Shall I come and sit with you, Fei Yen?’

  ‘Wait there, Yuan. I’ll come out to you. It’s rather warm in here. Why don’t we walk down to the terrace?’

  He bowed, then moved back to let her pass, smelling the scent of her for the first time that day.

  Mei hua. Plum blossom.

  He fell in beside her on the path. ‘How is your father, Yin Tsu?’

  She laughed. ‘He’s fine. As he was yesterday when you asked. And my three brothers too, before you ask.’ She
stopped and inclined her head towards him. ‘Let’s drop formality, shall we, Li Yuan? I find it all so tiresome after a while.’

  A small bird flitted from branch to branch overhead, distracting them both. When they looked down again their eyes met and they laughed.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But in public…’

  She touched his arm gently. ‘In public it shall be as always.’ She lifted her chin in imitation of an old, starchy courtier. ‘We’ll be as tight-laced as a Minister’s corsets!’

  He giggled, unable to help himself, then saw she was watching him, enjoying his laughter.

  ‘Come, Yuan. Let’s go down.’

  She let him take her arm. A flight of stone steps snaked steeply downward, following the slope, ending with a tiny bridge of stone. But the bridge was only wide enough for one to cross at a time. Li Yuan went first then turned, holding out his hand to help her across the tiny stream.

  She took his hand and let him draw her to him, brushing past him closely, then turned to look back at him, her face in full sunlight for the first time since he had met her in the bower.

  ‘What’s that?’

  She began to smile, then saw the look on his face. ‘It’s a mian ye. A beauty mark, that’s all. Why, don’t you like it?’

  He made the slightest movement of his head, reluctant to find anything about her less than perfect.

  ‘Here, wipe it off!’

  He took the silk handkerchief she offered, realizing at once that it was the twin to the one he had in his room, beneath his pillow. Resisting the temptation to put it to his face, he reached out and made to touch the mark, but Fei Yen laughed and pushed his hand away.

  ‘Come here, Li Yuan! How can you do it from over there? You’ll have to hold my cheek while you rub the mark away. It isn’t easy, you know!’

  He moved closer, then gently took her cheek and turned it, almost fearing to hurt her. His body was touching hers now, brushing against her, and he could feel her warmth and smell the scent of plum blossom on her clothes. He felt a slight shiver pass down his spine, then began, brushing at it, gently at first, then harder, licking the silk then dabbing it against her cheek, until the mark was gone.

  And all the while she was watching him, a strange, unreadable expression in her dark, beautiful eyes. He was conscious of her breathing: of her warm breath on his neck; of the soft rise and fall of her breasts beneath the tightly fitting tunic; of the warm pulse of her body where it touched his own.

  He shuddered and moved away, bringing his hand back from her face; looking down at it a moment, as if it wasn’t his. Then, recollecting himself, he offered her the silk.

  Her smile, her answer, made him burn. ‘Keep it. Put it with its twin.’

  He swallowed, then smiled and gave a small bow of thanks.

  On the terrace she stood there, her hands on the balcony, looking out across the lake. ‘Do you still want to ride?’

  He looked away, a faint colour in his cheeks, remembering what Pearl Heart had said.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, touching his shoulder gently.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, then laughed and changed the subject. ‘Do you remember that day here, on the far side of the lake? The day of the reception?’

  She looked across and nodded, her mouth opening slightly, showing her perfect white teeth. ‘The day I let Han beat me at archery.’

  They were silent a moment, a strange mix of emotions in the air between them. Then she turned back to him, smiling.

  ‘Let’s go across. I’m not in the mood for riding. Let’s walk, and talk of old times, neh, Yuan?’

  He looked up shyly at her, then smiled. ‘I’d like that very much.’

  For a long time after Li Yuan had gone, Fei Yen stood there at the edge of the lake, staring out across the water, deep in thought.

  She had thought it would be amusing to play an ancient game: to flirt with him and maybe afterwards, in some secret place away from prying eyes, introduce him to pleasures finer than those his maids could offer. But Li Yuan had wanted more than that. Much more, despite the impossibility of it.

  She could still hear his voice echoing in her head.

  ‘Your son will be T’ang.’

  Had he seen her surprise? Had he seen how unprepared she was for that? Her laughter had been designed to put him off; to make him think she thought it all a joke, when she could see from his eyes how serious he was.

  ‘Impossible,’ she had said when he repeated it. ‘You know the law, Li Yuan.’

  ‘You slept with him? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘What?’ She had turned, flustered, shocked by his impropriety. ‘What do you mean?’

  He seemed obsessed with it; insistent. ‘Did you sleep with him? Before the wedding? It is important, Fei Yen. Did you or didn’t you?’

  She swallowed and looked down, flushing deeply at the neck. ‘No! How could I have done? There was never an opportunity. And then…’

  Her tears made him relent. But in the breathing space they earned her, she began to understand. The law said that a man could not marry his brother’s wife. But was a wife really a wife until the marriage had been consummated?

  She had looked up at him, wide-eyed: astonished both that he wanted her and that he was prepared to challenge the law itself to have her.

  ‘You understand me, then, Fei Yen?’ he had said and she had nodded, her whole being silenced by the enormity of what he was suggesting to her. His wife. He wanted her to be his wife. But they had had the chance to say no more than that, for then the old servant had come and brought the summons from his father, and he, suddenly more flustered than she, had bowed and gone at once, leaving things unresolved.

  Your son will be T’ang.

  Yes, she thought, tears of joy coming suddenly to her eyes. So it shall pass. As it was always meant to be.

  His father’s Chancellor, Chung Hu-Yan, met him before the doors to the Hall of Eternal Truth. The huge doors were closed and guarded, the great wheel of the Ywe Lung towering over the man as he bowed to the boy.

  ‘What is it, Hu-Yan? What does my father want?’

  But Chung Hu-Yan was not his normal smiling self. He looked at Li Yuan strangely, almost sternly, then removed the boy’s riding hat and turned him about full circle, inspecting him.

  ‘I was going riding…’ Li Yuan began to explain, but the Chancellor shook his head, as if to say, Be silent, boy.

  Yuan swallowed. What had happened? Why was Hu-yan so stern and formal? Was it the business with the maids? Oh, gods, was it that?

  Satisfied, Chung Hu-Yan stepped back and signalled to the guards.

  Two bells sounded, the first sweet and clear, the second deep and resonant. Slowly, noiselessly, the great doors swung back.

  Yuan stared down the aisle of the great hall and shivered. What was going on? Why did his father not meet with him in his rooms, as he had always done? Why all this sudden ritual?

  Li Shai Tung sat on his throne atop the Presence Dais at the far end of the Hall.

  ‘Prostrate yourself, Li Yuan,’ Chung Hu-Yan whispered, and Yuan did as he was bid, making the full k’o t’ou to his father for the first time since the day of the reception – the day of the archery contest.

  He stood slowly, the cold touch of the tiles lingering like a ghostly presence against his brow. Then, with the briefest glance at Chung Hu-Yan, he moved forward, between the pillars, approaching his father.

  Halfway down the aisle he noticed the stranger who stood to one side of the Presence Dais at the bottom of the steps. A tall, thin Han with a shaven head, who wore the sienna robes of a scholar, but on whose chest was a patch of office.

  He stopped at the foot of the steps and made his obeisance once again, then stood and looked up at the T’ang.

  ‘You asked for me, father?’

  His father was dressed in the formal robe he normally wore only for Ministerial audiences, the bright yellow cloth edged in black and decorated with fierce golden dragons. The
high-tiered court crown made him seem even taller than he was; more dignified, if that was possible. When Li Yuan addressed him he gave the barest nod of recognition, his face, like Chung Hu-Yan’s, curiously stern, uncompromising. This was not how he usually greeted his son.

  Li Shai Tung studied his son a moment, then leaned forward and pointed to the Han who stood below the steps.

  ‘This is Ssu Lu Shan. He has something to tell you about the world. Go with him, Li Yuan.’

  Li Yuan turned to the man and gently inclined his head, showing his respect. At once the scholar bowed low, acknowledging Li Yuan’s status as a prince. Li Yuan turned back, facing his father, waiting, expecting more, then understood the audience was at an end. He made his k’o t’ou a third and final time, then backed away, puzzled and deeply troubled by the strict formality of his father’s greeting, the oddness of his instruction.

  Outside, Li Yuan turned and faced the stranger, studying him. He had the thin, pinched face of a New Confucian official; a face made longer by the bareness of the scalp. His eyes, however, were hard and practical. They met Li Yuan’s examination unflinchingly.

  ‘Tell me, Ssu Lu Shan. What Ministry is it that you wear the patch of?’

  Ssu Lu Shan bowed. ‘It is the Ministry, Prince Yuan.’ From another it might have seemed cryptic, but Li Yuan understood at once that there was nothing elusive in the man’s answer.

  ‘The Ministry?’

  ‘So it is known, Excellency.’

  Li Yuan walked on, Ssu Lu Shan keeping up with him, several paces behind, as protocol demanded.

  At the doorway to his suite of rooms, Li Yuan stopped and turned to face the man again.

  ‘Do we need privacy for our meeting, Ssu Lu Shan?’

  The man bowed. ‘It would be best, Excellency. What I have to say is for your ears only. I would prefer it if the doors were locked and the windows closed while I am talking.’

  Li Yuan hesitated, feeling a vague unease. But this was what his father wanted; what his father had ordered him to do. And if his father had ordered it, he must trust this man and accommodate him.

  When the doors were locked and the windows closed, Ssu Lu Shan turned, facing him. Li Yuan sat in a tall chair by the window overlooking the gardens while the scholar – if that was what he was – stood on the far side of the room, breathing deeply, calmly, preparing himself.