The Middle Kingdom (36 page)

Karr hesitated,
then shook his head. "I would not insult you so, Kao Chen. We
both know that you cannot buy a man's loyalty. However, you can try
to earn it." He sat back, then shrugged his great shoulders.
"All right. I ask you openly, Kao Chen. Will you become the
Tang's man? Or will you rot here at this level?"

Chen looked
down. He had a life here. A good life. There was his wife, his son
now to consider. But to be
kwai
again ... He felt himself torn
in two by the offer.

There was a
whisper of cloth. Chen looked up past Karr. Wang Ti had come out from
behind the curtains and was standing there, staring imploringly at
him. Then, abruptly, she came around and threw herself down in front
of Karr in a full
k'o t'ou.

"Wang Ti!
What are you doing?"

She lifted her
head and glanced at Chen anxiously, then returned her forehead to the
floor before the big man.

"My husband
accepts your kind offer, Shih Karr. He will be honored to work with
you."

HAN C H'IN stood
there silently in the darkened room, his back to the doorway. Outside
the two assassins waited. He breathed deeply, calming himself,
remembering what he'd been taught. The still man has advantages. He
hears better. He has choice of action. The moving man is committed.
His strength, his very movement can be used against him.

Let them come to
you, then. Feign unawareness. But let your body be as the dragon's,
alive, alert to every movement of the air behind your back.

Outside they
hesitated. Then the first of them came through.

Han turned when
the man was only an arm's length away, ducking low, sweeping his leg
out, his left arm straight-punching upward. As the man went down Han
rolled backward and flipped up onto his feet, facing the second
assassin.

The dark, masked
figure feinted,-kicking to Han's left, making shapes with his hands
in the air, each movement accompanied by a sharp hiss of expelled
breath.

Han shadowed the
assassin's movements, knowing he could not afford to do otherwise. He
was alone now. Death awaited him if he made the smallest mistake. He
had only winded the man on the floor, so time now was precious. He
would have to dispense with the man before him, then deal finally
with the other.

He saw his
chance. The assassin had put his full weight on his right foot. It
anchored him. Han feinted farther to the right, then leapt, turning
in the air and kicking high, aiming for the man's chin.

His foot brushed
air. Then he was falling.

The assassin was
on him in an instant, his forearm locked about Han's neck.

Han cried out.

The lights
flicked on at once. The two assassins backed away, bowing deeply,
respectfully. Han turned over and sat up, gasping for breath. Shiao
Shi-we was standing in the doorway, looking in at him, his expression
hard to read.

"Again!"
he barked finally. "How many times, Han? Have you learned
nothing from me?"

Han knelt and
bowed to his instructor. Shi-we was right. He had been impatient.

"I am
sorry, Master Shiao. I was worried about the second man."

Shiao Shi-we
made a small sound in his throat, then lifted his chin. Han Ch'in got
to his feet at once.

"You are a
good fighter, Han Ch'in. Your reflexes are as good as any man's. Your
body knows how to move. How to kick and punch. How to block and fall
and roll. You have real courage. A rare thing. Yet for all these
qualities you lack one vital thing. You have not learned to think as
your opponent thinks."

Han bowed again,
chastened.

"What then
should I have done, Master Shiao? Should I have waited for him to
attack?"

Shiao Shi-we was
a small man, almost a head shorter than his seventeen-year-old pupil.
His head was shaved and oiled and he was naked but for a small
dark-red loincloth. His chest and forearms and legs were heavily
muscled, yet as he crossed the room he moved with the grace of a
dancer. He was sixty-five years old but looked forty.

He stood in
front of Han Ch'in, looking up at the T'ang's heir, but there was no
deference in his posture. In this room Shiao Shi-we was as father to
Han Ch'in. Once, ten years before, he had put the young boy across
his knee and spanked him for his impertinence, and when Han Ch'in had
gone before his father to complain, the T'ang had merely laughed,
then, growing stern, had ordered the punishment repeated, so that the
lesson should be learned. Since that time Han Ch'in had known better
than to argue with his tutor.

"Three
things," began Shi-we. "Discipline, patience, and
control. Without them even a good fighter is certain to lose.
With them"—the tutor lifted his head proudly, the muscles
of his neck standing out like ridges of rock—"the
good becomes the supreme."

There was a
noise in the doorway. Without turning Shiao Shi-we lifted a hand.
"Please wait there a moment, Yuan. I must finish talking to your
brother."

Li Yuan made a
tiny bow to the instructor's back, amazed, as ever, that the old man
could tell, without looking, who it was behind him. Each man has his
own sounds, he'd once said. How he moves, who he is—these
things can be distinguished as distinctively as the grain of a man's
skin, the identifying pigmentation of the retina. Still yourself,
listen, learn to tell the sound of friend from that of your enemy,
and such skills might one day save your life.

So it might be,
but try as he had, Li Yuan had found he could not distinguish the
sound of his brother from that of one of his servants. If it's a
skill, he thought, it's one few men possess. Better then to have a
good man at one's back.

Li Yuan looked
past Shiao Shi-we at his brother. Han Ch'in had his head lowered and
there was a slight color in his cheeks. What has Han done now? he
wondered, knowing how impulsive he was. Has he "died"
again?

Master Shiao
sniffed loudly, then pointed to Han's left. "Position."

Han moved at
once, standing where he had been only a minute or so before, facing
the assassin. Shiao Shi-we gave a slight nod, then positioned himself
in front of his pupil. "Discipline," he said, crouching
down and rubbing at his thighs, warming himself up. "Patience."
He straightened, then twisted at the waist to left and right,
relaxing the muscles there. "And control."

Without warning
Shiao Shi-we launched himself at Han Ch'in.

Li Yuan gasped,
startled by the abruptness of Shiao Shi-we's attack. But Han had
moved back and away, and Shi-we's fist merely glanced the side of his
face. Had it connected it would have broken his nose.

Han Ch'in moved
back quickly, breathing heavily, clearly shaken by the violence of
the attack. Yet he made no complaint. Crouching, flexing his body, he
prepared himself for the next attack, calming his breathing,
repeating the triad in his mind.
Discipline. Patience. Control.

The next assault
was like nothing either boy had ever seen before. Shiao Shi-we ran at
Han in a zigzag, almost lunatic manner, his movements like those of
an automaton. And as he ran a strange, unsettling scream came from
his widely opened mouth.

Through
half-lidded eyes Han Ch'in watched him come and, at the last moment,
ducked and came up under the older man, tossing him into the air,
then turned to face him again.

"Excellent!"
Shiao Shi-we was on his feet, unharmed. He smiled momentarily, then
grimaced as he threw himself at Han again.

So it went on,
Shiao Shi-we attacking wildly, Han Ch'in defending, until, with a
suddenness that was as surprising as the first attack, the old man
backed off, bowing deeply.

"Good!"
he said, looking at his pupil with pride. "Now go and bathe.
Young Yuan must have his hour."

Han bowed and
did as he was bid. Li Yuan turned, watching him go, then turned back,
facing Master Shiao.

"You could
have killed him," he said softly, still shocked by what he had
seen.

Shiao Shi-we
looked away, more thoughtful than Li Yuan had ever seen him before.
"Yes," he said finally. "I could have, had he not
fought so well."

"Well,
Chen, will you come to bed?"

Wang Ti pulled
back the cover and patted the space beside her on the bed. Chen had
been silent all day, angry with her for her intervention. She had
understood and had gone about her business patiently, but now it was
evening and Jyan was asleep. Now he would have to talk to her. She
would not have him lie beside her still angry with her, his innermost
thoughts un-purged.

"Well,
husband?"

He turned,
looking across at her in the faint light of the single lamp, then
looked down, shaking his head.

So. She would
have to be the one to talk.

"You're
angry with me still?"

He did not look
at her, merely nodded. His whole body was stiff and awkward, shaped
by the words he was holding back. She sat up, unfastening her hair,
letting the covers fall from her breasts.

"You would
have said no."

He looked at her
mutely, looked away, then looked back again, his eyes drawn to her
breasts, her shoulders. Meeting her eyes, he sighed and shrugged.

"You would
have said no. And then you would have felt trapped. Bitter. With me.
With Jyan. I would have had to watch your joy in us turn to
sourness."

He began to
shake his head but she was insistent, her voice soft yet firm.

"It is so,
Kao Chen. I know it is so. You think I could live with you this long
and not know it?"

He looked at her
uncomprehendingly.

"I knew.
Understand? Knew you were
kwai."

Chen's eyes were
wide. "You knew? When? How?"

She patted the
bed beside her. "When I first met you. I knew at once. Even
before my father told me."

Chen crossed the
room and sat beside her. "Your father? He knew as well?"

"Oh, Chen.
You think we didn't know at once? One look at you was enough. You
were like a bird let out of its cage. We knew from the first that you
weren't born in these levels. And as for your papers..."

Chen looked down
at her hand where it lay above the bedclothes and covered it with his
own. "And yet you married me. Why, if you knew?"

She hesitated,
then took his other hand. "You met Grandfather Ling?"

Chen nodded,
remembering the wizened, gray-haired old man who had sat silently at
the back of the room when he had negotiated for Wang Ti's hand. He
recalled how the old man's eyes had followed his every movement.

"Yes. I
remember Wang Ling. What of him?"

Wang Ti smiled.
"He was
kwai.
Like you. And, like you, he came up from
the Net."

Chen laughed,
astonished. "And you say your father knew."

"He made .
. . inquiries."

Chen shook his
head, astonished. "Inquiries . . . and none of you minded? You,
Wang Ti . . . you knew and yet you didn't mind what I was or where
I'd come from?"

She drew him
closer, her face only a hand's width from his own, her dark eyes
looking deeply into his. "You are a good man, Kao Chen. I knew
that from the first moment I set eyes on you. But this last year I've
seen you suffer, seen you put bit and bridle on, and my heart has
bled for you."

She shook her
head, her teeth momentarily clenched between parted lips. "No,
Chen, the big man was right. You are not a warehouseman."

He shivered,
then, slowly, nodded to himself. "Then it is as you said, Wang
Ti. I will be
kwai
again."

Wang Ti laughed
softly, then drew Chen down beside her, drawing the sheet back to
expose her nakedness. "Ah, you foolish man. Don't you understand
me yet? To me you have always been
kwai.
"

She reached
down, freeing his penis from the folds of the cloth and taking it
firmly in her hand. "Here, give me your knife, I'll sheathe it
for you."

THE GENERAL
leaned across the huge scale model of the
Tzu Chin Ch'eng,
the
Purple Forbidden City, indicating the group of buildings gathered
about the Yu Hua Yuan, the Imperial Gardens.

"We could
close the
Shen Wu
Gate and the Shun
Ch'en
Gate and cut
off the six eastern palaces and the six western palaces, here and
here. That would make things easier."

Shepherd came
around him and looked at the two huge gates at the rear of the
Imperial City for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes. But
why stop at that? Why not seal the whole of that area off? That way
we could concentrate on a much smaller area. In fact, why not seal
off everything we're not going to use? Close the Hung I
Ko
and
the
Tijen Ko
too. Confine the lesser guests to the space
between the Meridian Gate and the Hall of Supreme Harmony. Likewise,
confine those special guests who will attend the second ceremony to
the Inner City and the Imperial Gardens."

Tolonen shook
his head. "Not possible, I'm afraid. Li Shai Tung has prepared a
banquet for the lesser guests outside the Arrow Pavilion. He would
lose face if he had to cancel that."

Shepherd put his
hand to his neck, rubbing away the tiredness. He had barely slept
these last three days. And now this. He looked at the model,
realizing once again how difficult Tolonen's task was. The
Ku
Kung,
the Imperial Palace, was composed of almost nine thousand
buildings and measured more than two
li
in length, one and a
half in width. It covered fifteen hundred mou—almost two
hundred and fifty acres in the old measure. Even if they sealed off
everything he had suggested, it still meant policing over five
hundred mou.

He looked up
from the glass-covered model to the original. They had set the table
up in the center of the courtyard in front of the Ta'i Ho Tien, the
Hall of Supreme Harmony. In less than twelve hours the whole of this
huge open space would be packed with courtiers and guests, servants
and Security. He turned, looking back toward the Gate of Supreme
Harmony and, beyond it, the five white bridges crossing the Golden
Water. Would something happen here today? Would their enemies
succeed? Or could they stop them?