The Broken Wheel Read online

  ‘Nothing?’

  He nodded, holding the old man’s eyes. ‘What good would it do? Yuan acted in your best interests. Or so he believes. So I’m sure he believes. There was no desire to harm you, only… an eagerness, let us call it, an impatience in him, that can be set down to his youthfulness. Look upon these as folly. Arrange an accident and have all record of these things destroyed. The Marshal could arrange something for you, I’m certain. But say nothing. Do not damage what is between you and your son, Shai Tung.’

  The old man shook his head, momentarily in pain. ‘But he has lied to me. Deceived me.’

  ‘No… Forgive me, Shai Tung, but your words are too strong.’

  ‘It is unfilial…’

  Tsu Ma swallowed, thinking of his own far greater deceit, then shook his head again. ‘He loves you, Shai Tung. He works hard for you. Unstintingly hard. There is nothing he would not do for you. In that he is anything but unfilial. So let things be. After all, no real harm is done.’

  His words came strong and heartfelt, as if it were himself he was pleading for, and when Li Shai Tung looked up at him again there were tears in the old man’s eyes.

  ‘Maybe you are right, Tsu Ma. Maybe I am being too harsh.’ He sighed. ‘You are a good friend to him. I hope, for his sake, you are ever so.’ He turned, looking at the Marshal. ‘And you, Knut? What do you say?’

  Tolonen hesitated, then lowered his head. ‘Tsu Ma is right. I had come here ready to argue otherwise, but having heard him I am inclined to agree. Say nothing. The rest I will arrange.’

  ‘And the boy?’

  Tolonen looked briefly at Tsu Ma, then met his master’s eyes again. ‘I would leave the boy for now, Chieh Hsia. Li Yuan will discover for himself how dangerous the boy is. And who knows, that may prove the most important thing to come from all of this, neh? To learn that knowledge is a two-edged sword?’

  Li Shai Tung laughed; but it was an unhealthy, humourless sound. ‘Then it will be as you say, good friends. It will be as you say.’

  Fei Yen had been quiet for some while, staring out across the circular pool towards the distant mountains. Now she turned, looking back at him.

  ‘Why did you bring me here?’

  Li Yuan met her eyes, smiling vaguely, unconscious, it seemed, of the slight edge to her voice.

  ‘Because it’s beautiful. And…’ He hesitated, a strange, fleeting expression crossing his features, then he looked down. ‘I haven’t said before, but Han and I used to come here as boys. We would spend whole afternoons here, playing among the ruins. Long ago, it seems now. Long, long ago.’ He looked up at her again, searching her eyes, as if for understanding. ‘When I rode out this morning, I knew I had to come here. It was as if something called me.’

  She turned, shivering, wondering still if he was playing with her. If, despite everything, he knew. Behind him the ancient Buddhist stupa stood out against the blue of the sky, its squat base and ungainly spire something alien in that rugged landscape. To its left rested the green silk palanquin he had insisted she be carried in, its long poles hidden in the waist-length grass, the six runners squatting nearby, talking quietly among themselves, their eyes averted. Further up the hillside she could see the entrance to the ruined monastery where she had come so often with Tsu Ma.

  It had all come flooding back to her, all the old feelings reawakened, as sharp as ever. Why now? she had asked herself, horrified. Why, when I have finally found peace, does it return to torment me? She had listened to Yuan abstractedly, knowing Tsu Ma was once more in the palace, and had found herself wanting to run to him and throw herself upon his mercy. But it could not be. She was this man’s wife. This boy’s wife. So she had chosen. And now it could not be undone. Unless that was why the old man had summoned Tsu Ma.

  For one brief, dreadful moment she imagined it undone. Imagined herself cast off, free to marry Tsu Ma, and saw the tiny movement of denial he would make. As he had done that time, here, beside the pool. She caught her breath, the pain of that moment returned to her.

  I should have been your wife, Tsu Ma. Your strength. Your second self.

  Aiya, but it was not to be. It was not her fault that she had fallen for Tsu Ma. No. That had been her fate. But this too was her fate. To be denied him. To be kept from him for ever. To be married to this child. She looked down, swallowing back the bitterness.

  ‘What is it, my love?’

  She looked at him, for the moment seeing nothing but his youth, his naivety – those and that awful old-man certainty of his. Then she relented. It was not his fault. He had not chosen to fall in love with her. He had shown nothing but kindness to her. Even so, her heart bled that it was he and not Tsu Ma who had brought her here today.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she answered. ‘Only the sickness.’

  He stared at her, concerned, real sympathy in his expression as he struggled to understand her. But he would never understand her.

  ‘Should we go back?’ he asked softly, but she shook her head.

  ‘No. It’s all right. It’ll pass in a while.’

  She looked away again, staring out towards the south and the distant beacon, imagining him there, waiting for her, even now. But there were only ghosts. Distant memories. Those and the pain.

  She sighed. Was it always so? Did fate never grant a full measure? Was it the lot of everyone to have this lesser satisfaction – this pale shadow of passion?

  And was she to cast that to the winds? To choose nothing rather than this sometimes-bitter compromise? She shook her head, anguished. Oh, she had often thought of telling him; had had the urge to let the words float free from her, like acids, eating into the soft dream of love he had built about him. And what had kept her from that? Was it pity for him? A desire not to be cruel? Or was it simple self-interest?

  She turned, looking at him again. Did she love him? Did she?

  No. But neither did she hate him. It was as she’d said so often to herself. He was a good man. A good husband. But beyond that…

  She closed her eyes, imagining herself in Tsu Ma’s arms again, the sheer physical strength of him thrilling beyond words, the strange, mysterious power of him enfolding her until her mind went dark and her nerve ends sang with the sweetness of his touch.

  And could Li Yuan do that for her? She shuddered. No. Not in ten thousand years.

  ‘If you would wait here a brief moment, Shih Nan, I will let my master know you are here.’

  Nan Ho, Li Yuan’s Master of the Inner Chambers, returned the First Steward’s bow, then, when the man had left, turned, looking about him. It was not often that he found himself in one of the mansions of the Minor Families and he was not going to miss this opportunity of seeing how they lived. He had seen the balcony on his way in; now he crossed the room quickly and stood there just inside the window, looking out across the grounds. Down below the chao tai hui – the entertainment – was in full swing, more than a thousand guests filling the space between the old stone walls.

  He took a step further, out on to the balcony itself, fascinated by the range of outlandish fashions on display, amused by the exaggerated gestures of some of the more garishly dressed males, then froze, hearing voices in the gallery behind him. He drew in closer to the upright, drawing the long silk curtain across a fraction to conceal himself. It would not do to be seen to be so curious, even if he was here on the Prince’s business.

  At first he was unaware of the import of what was being said, then a single phrase made him jerk his head about, suddenly attending.

  He listened, horrified, the laughter that followed the words chilling him. And as their footsteps went away down the stairs, he came out and, tiptoeing quietly across the tiled floor, leaned over the stairway to catch a sight of the men who had been talking, drawing his head back sharply as they turned on the landing below.

  Gods! he thought, all consideration of the business he had come for gone from his mind. He must do something, and immediately, for this matter would not wait. He must nip it
in the bud at once.

  He was still standing there, his hands gripping the marble of the balustrade, when Pei Ro-han entered the gallery from the far end.

  ‘Master Nan? Is that you?’

  He turned, flustered, bowing twice, then hurried forward, kissing Pei’s offered ring hand. He straightened up and, after the briefest pause to collect his thoughts, came directly to the point.

  ‘Forgive me, my lord, but something has just happened that I must attend to at once. I was waiting here, just by the window there, when four men entered the gallery, talking among themselves. Not wishing to disturb them, I took a step outside, on to the balcony, yet what I overheard is of the gravest importance. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that it threatens the security of our masters.’

  Pei Ro-han had gone very still. There was a small movement in his normally placid face, then he nodded. ‘I see. And what do you wish to do, Master Nan?’

  In answer Nan Ho went to the balcony again, his head bowed, waiting for Pei to come across. When the old man stood beside him, he pointed out across the heads of the crowd to four men who were making their way to one of the refreshment tents on the far side of the walled garden.

  ‘Those are the men. The two in red silks and the others in lilac and green. If you could detain them on some pretext for an hour or two, I will see if I can bring the Marshal here. He will know best how to deal with this matter.’

  ‘Are you sure that is wise, Master Nan? Should we not, perhaps, simply keep an eye on them and prevent them from leaving?’

  Nan Ho shook his head vigorously. ‘Forgive me, but, no, my lord. They must be isolated at the earliest opportunity, for what they know is dangerous. I cannot say more, but the safety of my masters is at stake here and I would be failing in my duty if I did not act.’

  Pei smiled, immensely pleased by this show of loyalty. ‘I understand, Nan Ho. Then go at once and bring Marshal Tolonen. I, meanwhile, will act my part in this.’

  Kim sat there in the semi-darkness, the room lights doused, the soft, pearled glow of the screen casting a faint, silvered radiance over his face and upper arms. He had worked through the night then slept, waking only an hour past, entranced, fearful, filled with the dream he’d had.

  Her eyes. He had dreamed of Jelka Tolonen’s eyes. Of eyes so blue that he could see the blackness beyond them; could see the stars winking through, each fastened on its silver, silken thread to where he stood, looking through her at the universe. He had woken, shivering, the intensity of the vision scaring him. What did it mean? Why was she there, suddenly, between him and the stars? Why could he not see them clearly, but through the startling blueness of her eyes?

  He had lain there a while, open-mouthed with astonishment, then had come and sat here, toying with the comset’s graphics, trying to re-create the vision he had had.

  A spider. As so often he had been a spider in his dream; a tiny, silvered, dark-eyed creature, throwing out his web, letting the threads fly outward to the stars on tiny spinners that caught the distant sunlight and converted it to silk, flying onward, faster and ever faster to their various destinations. But this time it had been as if a great wind was blowing, gathering all of the threads into a single twisted trunk, drawing them up into the blueness of those eyes that floated like twin planets above where he crouched. Only on the far side of those eyes, where the blue shaded into black, did the trunk seem to blossom, like the branches of a tree, a million tiny threads spreading out like the fine capillaries of a root system, thrust deep into the earth of the universe.

  Kim shivered, staring down at the thing he had made, first in his dreams and then here in the flatness of the screen. So it had always been for him: first he would see something and then he would act on what he’d seen. But this? How could he act on this? How could he pass his web through the young girl’s eyes?

  Or was that what it meant? Was he being too literal? Did this vision have a meaning other than all those that had preceded it?

  He shook his head then cleared the screen, only now realizing how fast his heart was beating, how hard it seemed suddenly to breathe. Why was that? What did it mean?

  He stood, angry with himself. It was only a dream after all. It didn’t have to mean anything, surely? He was better off concentrating on finishing off the work for Prince Yuan. Another two, maybe three days should see that done. Then he could send it through. He would ask Barycz for the favour.

  He leaned forward, about to bring up the lights, when the screen came alive again. A message was coming through. He leaned back, waiting, one hand touching the keyboard lightly, killing the hardprint facility.

  The words appeared in the official Project typescript, headed by the symbol of a skull surrounded by a tiny nimbus of broken lines. It was an instruction for him to go to the medical centre at once for his three-monthly check-up.

  Kim sat back thoughtfully. It was too early. He wasn’t due his next medical for another ten days. Still, that wasn’t so unusual. Not everyone was as punctilious as he. Even so, he would make sure it wasn’t one of Spatz’s tricks.

  He tapped out the locking combination, then put in the code, touching Cap A to scramble it. Cap L would unscramble it when the time came to unlock, but until then Prince Yuan’s files would be safe from prying eyes. Yes, they could take the comset apart, component by component, and never find it.

  He looked up at the watching camera and smiled, then, going across to the corner, poured water from the jug into the bowl and began to wash.

  Tolonen stood and came round his desk, greeting Prince Yuan’s Master of the Inner Chambers.

  ‘Master Nan, how pleasant to see you here. What can I do for you?’

  Nan Ho bowed low. ‘Forgive me, Marshal. I realize how busy you are, but this is a matter of the most extreme urgency.’

  ‘So my equerry leads me to believe. But tell me, what has happened, Master Nan? Is the T’ang’s life in danger?’

  Nan Ho shook his head. ‘It is young Prince Yuan who is threatened by this matter. Neither is it a matter of life but of reputation.’

  The old man frowned. ‘I don’t understand. You mean Prince Yuan’s reputation is threatened?’

  ‘I do. I was at Pei Ro-han’s mansion on my master’s business, when I overheard something. A rumour. A most vile rumour, which, if it were to become common knowledge, might do irreparable damage not only to my master but to the Seven. Such damage might well have political consequences.’

  Tolonen was watching him, his lips slightly parted. ‘Could you be more specific, Master Nan? I mean, what kind of rumour is this we’re talking of ?’

  Nan Ho lowered his eyes. ‘Forgive me, Marshal, but I would rather not say. All I know is that there are no grounds whatsoever for such a rumour and that the perpetrators have but one purpose, to create a most vile nuisance for the Family that you and I deem it an honour to serve.’

  He glanced up, seeing that his words had done the trick. At the thought of the Li Clan being harmed in any way, Tolonen had bristled. There was a distinct colour at his neck, and his grey eyes bulged with anger.

  ‘Then what are we to do, Master Nan? What steps might we take to eradicate this vileness?’

  Nan Ho smiled inwardly, knowing he had been right to come direct to Tolonen. ‘Pei Ro-han has detained the men concerned before they could spread their wicked rumour. He is holding them until our return. If, through them, we can trace the source of these rumours, then we might yet stand a chance of crushing this abomination before it takes root.’

  Tolonen gave a terse nod, then went back to his desk, giving brief instructions into his desk-top comset before he turned back.

  ‘The way is cleared for us. We can be at Lord Pei’s mansion in half an hour. One of my crack teams will meet us there. Let us hope we are not too late, neh, Master Nan?’

  Yes, thought Nan Ho, the tightness at the pit of his stomach returning. For all our sakes, let us hope we can stop this thing before it spreads.

  *

  The
two men stood at the barrier, waiting while the Marshal’s party passed through on the down transit. When it had gone they turned, their eyes meeting briefly, a strange look passing between them.

  ‘Passes…’ the guard seated beyond the barrier said, waving them on with one hand.

  Mach flipped open the tiny warrant card he was carrying in his left hand and offered it to the guard. The guard took it without looking at him. ‘Face up to the camera,’ he said tonelessly.

  Mach did as he was told, staring up into the artificial eye. Somewhere in central records it would be matching his retinal prints to his service record. A moment later a green light flashed on the board in front of the guard. He handed the card back, again without looking at Mach, then held out his hand again.

  Lehmann came forward a pace and placed his card into the guard’s hand. This time the guard’s eyes came up lazily, then took a second look as he noted the pallor of the man.

  ‘You sick or something?’

  Mach laughed. ‘So would you be if you’d been posted to the Net for four years.’

  The guard eyed Lehmann with new respect. ‘That so, friend?’

  Lehmann nodded, tilting his face up to stare at the camera.

  ‘Four years?’

  ‘Three years eight months,’ Lehmann corrected him, knowing what was in the false record DeVore had prepared for him.

  The guard nodded, reading from the screen in front of him. ‘Says here you were decorated, too. What was that for?’

  ‘Some bastard Triad runner got too nosy,’ Lehmann said, staring back at him menacingly. ‘I broke his jaw.’

  The guard laughed uncomfortably and handed back the card. ‘Okay. You can go through. And thanks …’

  Out of earshot Mach leaned close. ‘Not so heavy, friend.’

  Lehmann simply looked at him.

  Mach shrugged. ‘Okay. Let’s get on with this. We’ll start with the boxes at the top of the deck.’

  They took the deck-lift up, passing through a second checkpoint, then sought out the maintenance shaft that led to the first of the eighteen communications boxes that serviced this deck.