The Middle Kingdom (78 page)

He caught up
with her in the corridor outside his room, and turned her, pulling
her against him.

"Not here,"
she said, laughing. "Inside, Li Yuan. Let's get inside first."

He could barely
wait for her. As she undressed he ran his hands across her skin, and
pressed his face against her hair, which smelled of ginger and
cinnamon. He would have taken her then, while he was still fully
clothed, but she stopped him and began to undress him, her hands
lingering against his painfully stiff penis. In daylight her body
seemed different; harder, firmer, less melting than it had seemed in
the darkness, but no less desirable. He let her draw him down onto
the bed, then he was inside her, spilling his seed at once.

She laughed
tenderly, no trace of mockery in her laughter. "I see I'll have
to teach you tricks, Li Yuan. Ways of holding back."

"What do
you mean?" He lay there against her, his eyes closed, letting
her caress his neck, his shoulders, the top of his back.

"There are
books we can get, Chun
hua.
And devices."

He shivered. The
light touch of her fingers on his flesh was delicious, making him
want to purr like a cat. "Chun hua?" He had not heard of
such things. "Spring pictures? What kind of spring pictures?"

She laughed
again, then whispered in his ear. "Pictures of men and women
doing things to each other. All kind of things. You'd not believe the
number of ways it can be done, Li Yuan. And not just with two."

She saw his
interest and laughed. "Ah, yes, I thought as much. There's no
man living who has not desired two girls in bed with him."

He swallowed.
"What do you mean, Pearl Heart?" But he was answered almost
at once. From behind a screen on the far side of the room came the
unmistakable sound of suppressed laughter.

Li Yuan sat up
and looked across. "Who's there? I demand to know—"

He fell silent.
It was Sweet Rose, the youngest of his maids.

She stepped out
from behind the screen, demure but naked, a faint blush on her cheeks
and at her neck. "May I join you on the bed, Li Yuan?"

Li Yuan
shuddered, then turned and looked mutely at Pearl Heart. She was
smiling broadly at him. "That's what we're here for. Didn't you
realize it, Li Yuan? For this time. For when you woke to your
manhood."

Pearl Heart
leaned forward and summoned the younger girl, then drew Li Yuan back
onto the bed, making Sweet Rose lie the other side of him. Then, with
a shared, sisterly exchange of laughter, they began their work,
stroking and kissing him, their skin like silk, their breath like
almonds, inflaming his senses until he blossomed and caught fire
again.

NAN HO stood
there outside the room, his head bowed, his manner apologetic but
firm. "I am sorry, Lady Fei, but you cannot go inside."

She looked at
him, astonished. It was the second time he had defied her. "What
do you mean, cannot? I think you forget yourself, Nan Ho. If I wish
to see Li Yuan, I have every right to call on him. I want to ask him
if he will ride with me this afternoon, that's all. Now, please,
stand out of my way."

He saw it was
hopeless to try to deny her any further and stood to one side, his
head lowered. "I beg you, Lady Fei—" But she brushed
past him and opened the door to Li Yuan's rooms.

"Ridiculous
man . . ." she had started to say, then fell silent, sniffing
the air. Then she noticed the sounds, coming from beyond the screen.
Unusual sounds to be coming from the bedroom of a thirteen-year-old
boy. She crept up to the screen, then put her hand to her mouth to
stifle her surprise.

It was Li Yuan!
Gods! Li Yuan with two of his maids!

For a moment she
stood there, mesmerized by the sight of his firm, almost perfect
bottom jutting and rutting with one of the maids while the other
caressed and stroked the two of them. Then she saw him stiffen and
groan and saw the maid's legs tighten momentarily about his back,
drawing him down into her.

She shuddered
and began to back away, then put her hand to her mouth to stop the
laughter that had come unbidden to her lips. Li Yuan! Of all the cold
fishes in the sea of life, imagine Li Yuan, rutting with his maids!
The dirty little beggar!

Outside she
looked at Nan Ho sternly. "I was not here, Nan Ho.
Do
you
understand me?"

The servant
bowed deeply. "I understand you, Lady Fei. And I will leave your
message for the young prince. I am sure he would welcome the chance
to ride with you this afternoon."

She nodded, then
turned, conscious of the blush that had come to her cheeks and neck,
and walked quickly away.

Li Yuan! She
gave a brief laugh, then stopped dead, reman-bering the sight of
those small, perfectly formed buttocks clenching at the moment of his
orgasm.

"And I
thought you so cold, so passionless. So above all this."

She laughed
again; a strange, querulous laugh, then walked on, surprised by what
she was thinking.

"Do you
remember this place, Karr?"

Karr smiled and
looked out from their private box into the pit with its surrounding
tiers.

"How could
I forget it, General?"

Tblonen leaned
back and sighed. "Men forget many things they'd do best to
remember. Roots. They forget their roots. And when that happens they
lose their ability to judge things true and clear."

Karr smiled.
"This business—" he pointed to the brilliantly lit
combat circle— "it had a way of clearing the mind of
everything but truth."

Tblonen laughed.
"Yes, I can see that."

Karr turned and
faced him. "I'm glad you're back, General. I mean no disrespect
to General Nocenzi, but things haven't been the same without you at
the helm."

The old man
sniffed and tilted his head slightly. "IVe missed it, too, Karr.
Missed it badly. But listen, I'm not at the helm. Not in the sense
that you're probably thinking. No. This is something else. Something
secret that the T'ang has asked me to organize."

He spelled it
out quickly, simply, letting Karr understand that he would be briefed
more fully later.

"This is a
contingency plan, you understand. We hope never to have to use it. If
the House votes in favor of the veto on space exploration—as it
should—we can put this little scheme to the flame—throw
it on the fire, so to speak."

"But you
don't believe that, do you, General?"

Tblonen shook
his head. "I'm afraid not. I think the T'ang hopes against hope.
The House is no friend to the Seven at present."

Below them, in
the pit, the two contestants came out and took their places. The
fight marshal read out the rules and then stepped back. The pit went
deathly silent.

The fight was
brief but brutal. In less than a minute one of the two men was dead.
The crowd went mad, roaring its approval. Karr watched the stewards
carry the body away, then shivered.

"I'm glad I
let you buy my contract out. That could have been me."

"No,"
Tolonen said. "You were the exception. No one would have carried
you from the circle. Not in a hundred fights. I knew that at once."

"The first
time you saw me?" Karr laughed and turned to face the older man.

"Almost."

Karr was
smiling. "I remember even now how you looked at me that first
time—so dismissive, it was, that look—and then you turned
your back on me."

Tolonen laughed,
remembering. "Well, sometimes it's best not to let a man know
all you're thinking. But it was true. It was why I welcomed your
offer. I knew at once I could use you. The way you stood up to young
Hans. I liked that. It put him on his mettle."

Karr looked
down. "Have you heard that I've traced DeVore?"

Tolonen's eyes
widened. "No! Where?"

"I'm not
certain, but I think he's taken an overseer's job on one of the big
plantations. My man Chen is investigating him right now. As soon as
he has proof we're going in."

Tolonen shook
his head. "Not possible, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry,
General, but what do you mean?"

Tblonen leaned
forward and held the top of one of Karr's huge arms. "I need you
at once, that's why. I want you training for this operation from this
evening. So that we can put the scheme into operation at a moment's
notice."

"Is there
no one else?"

Tblonen shook
his head. "No. There is only one man in the whole of Chung Kuo
who could carry out this scheme, and that's you, Karr. Chen will be
all right. I'll see he has full backup. But I can't spare you. Not
this time."

Karr considered
a moment, then looked up again, smiling. "Then I'd best get
busy, eh, General?"

OVERSEER BERGSON
looked up as Chen entered. The room was dark but for a tight circle
of light surrounding where he sat at a table in the center. He was
bareheaded, his dark hair slicked back wetly, and he was wearing a
simple silk
pau,
but Chen thought he recognized him at once.
It was DeVore. He was almost certain it was. On the low table in
front of him a
wei chi
board had been set up, seven rounded
black stones placed on the handicap points, forming the outline of a
huge letter H in the center of the grid. On either side of the board
was a tray, one filled with white stones, the other with black. "Do
you play, Tong Chou?"

Chen met
DeVote's eyes, wondering for a moment if it was possible he, too,
would see through the disguise, then dismissed the thought,
remembering how DeVore had killed the man he, Chen, had hired to play
himself that day five years ago when Kao Jyan had died. No, he
thought, to you I am long Chou, the new worker. A bright man.
Obedient. Quick to learn. But nothing more.

"My father
played,
Shih
Bergson. I learned a little from him."

DeVore looked
past Chen at the two henchmen and made a small gesture of dismissal
with his chin. They went at once.

"Sit down,
Tong Chou. Facing me. We'll talk as we play."

Chen moved into
the circle of light and sat. DeVore watched him a moment, relaxed,
his hands resting lightly on his knees,

then smiled.

"Those two
whoVe just gone. They're useful men, but when it comes to this game
they've shit in their heads instead of brains. Have you got shit in
your head, Tong Chou? Are you a useful man?"

"I'm
useful, Shih Bergson."

DeVore stared
back at him a moment, then looked down.

"We'll
see."

He took a white
stone from the tray and set it down, two lines in, six down at the
top left-hand corner of the board from where Chen sat—in shang,
the south. Chen noticed how firmly yet delicately DeVore had held the
stone between thumb and forefinger; how sharp the click of stone
against wood had been as he placed it; how crisp and definite that
movement had seemed. He studied the board awhile, conscious of his
seven black stones, like fortresses marking out territory on the
uncluttered battleground of the board. His seven and DeVore's one.
That one so white it seemed to eclipse the dull power of his own.

Chen took a
black stone from the tray and held it in his hand a moment, turning
it between his fingers, experiencing the smooth coolness of it, the
perfect roundness of its edges, the satisfying oblate feel of it. He
shivered. He had never felt anything like it before; had never played
with stones and board. It had always been machines. Machines, like
the one in Kao Jyan's room.

He set the stone
down smartly, taking his lead from DeVore, hearing once more that
sharp, satisfying click of stone against wood. Then he sat back.

DeVore answered
his move at once. Another white stone in the top left corner. An
aggressive, attacking move. Unexpected. Pushing directly for the
corner. Chen countered almost instinctively, his black stone placed
between the two whites, cutting them. But at once DeVore clicked down
another stone, forming a tiger's mouth about Chen's last black stone,
surrounding it on three sides and threatening to take it unless . . .

Chen connected,
forming an elbow of three black stones—a weak formation, though
not disastrous, but already he was losing the initiative; letting
DeVore's aggressive play force him back on the defensive. Already he
had lost the comer. Six plays in and he had lost the first comer.

"Would you
like
ch'a,
Tong Chou?"

He looked up
from the board and met DeVore's eyes. Nothing. No trace of what he
was thinking. Chen bowed. "I would be honored,
Shih
Bergson."

DeVore clapped
his hands and, when a face appeared around the door, simply raised
his right hand, two fingers extended. At the same time his left hand
placed another stone. Two down, two in, strengthening his line and
securing the corner. Only a fool would lose it now, and DeVore was no
fool.

DeVore leaned
back, watching him again. "How often did you play your father,
Tong Chou?"

"Often
enough when I was a child, Shih Bergson. But then he went away. When
I was eight. I only saw him again last year. After his funeral."

Chen placed
another stone, then looked back at DeVore. Nothing. No response at
all. And yet DeVore, like the fictional Tong Chou, had "lost"
his father as an eight-year-old.

"Unfortunate.
And you've not played since?"

Chen took a
breath, then studied DeVore's answer. He played so swiftly, almost as
if he weren't thinking, just reacting. But Cheng knew better than to
believe that. Every move DeVore made was carefully considered; all
the possibilities worked out in advance. To play him one had to be as
well prepared as he. And to beat him . . . ?

Chen smiled and
placed another stone. "Occasionally. But mainly with machines.
It's been some years since I've sat and played a game like this,
Shih
Bergson. I am honored that you find me worthy."