LATER, in Lehmann's offices, Berrenson sat there silently, sipping ice water and chewing at a knuckle, while Hart spelled out what they wanted.

Lehmann sat casually in his chair, listening patiently, turning the tiny cassette between his fingers, time and again, staring at it thoughtfully all the while. As Hart finished he looked up at him and nodded."I'm glad you came to me, Alex. You did the right thing. But I think you're going about this the wrong way. Killing Tolonen . . . well, it would give a lot of people-myself included-a great deal of pleasure, but it would solve nothing. To begin with, it would make Li Yuan angry, and I don't want that. Not yet.

Moreover, he would only appoint an even more intractable protector for the boy. Rheinhardt, perhaps.

And where would you be then? No. We need to be more direct."

"More direct? But killing Tolonen-" Hart laughed-"what could be more direct than that? Besides, it would avenge your father."

The look Lehmann gave him made him fall silent and lower his eyes.

"Listen," Lehmann said coldly, looking to Hart and then to Berren-son. "I'll say this only once. I don't want Tolonen killed. It doesn't fit my plans. There is, however, another way. Berrenson, your people took the boy from the Ebert Mansion once, right?"

"That's so, but-"

"But nothing. If it was done once it can be done again. We'll take the boy and hold him. And if Tolonen still refuses to come to terms, we'll kill him."

"But the Marshal . . ."

Lehmann glared at Berrenson. "You will leave it to me. And you will tell no one about this meeting-not your wives, not your friends, and certainly not your business associates."

He leaned toward them threateningly, the tape held up between his fingers. "Remember what you saw this morning. Remember it well. Because if there's one thing I won't tolerate, it's indiscipline."

Swallowing nervously, the two men bowed their heads. Then, the interview over, they hurried away, the screams of the dying woman echoing ghostlike in their ears.

LI YUAN dismissed his three advisors, then turned to the twin screens facing him.

Once there had been seven of them, meeting in Council twice a year to discuss matters of State and formulate policy, but the years had slowly pared the Seven down. Now there were just the three of them.

"Tsu Ma . . . Wei Tseng-li . . ." he said, greeting his fellow T'ang. "You have heard what Marshal Tolonen and General Rheinhardt had to say, and I am sure you have taken your own specialist advice on the matter. Now, however, we must decide on a course of action. Something all three of us are happy with."

Tsu Ma was first to speak. "Tolonen talks sense. Africa has become a luxury we can ill afford. The cost of policing it, both in manpower and in funding, exceeds any benefit we derive from keeping it.

Moreover, we all have more pressing problems at home, neh? While there was a shooting war in Africa our presence there at least distracted men's minds from domestic worries, but these last twelve months things have been quiet and the people have grown weary of the struggle. What's in their bellies worries them more than whether Africa is won or lost. And rightly so, perhaps. My vote is to get out."

"And you, Cousin Wei?"

Wei Tseng-li was his father's third son and had inherited only after the murder of his elder brothers. For a time he had been Li Yuan's personal secretary and, when stationed on Li Yuan's floating palace, Yang/ing, had saved Yuan's son, Kuei Jen, from certain death. As such there was a strong bond between the two young men. In many respects they were more like brothers than cousins. Just now, however,Tseng-li was deep in thought, his smooth, beardless face pale. The problems of State sat heavier on him than on the other two, and he had been ill these past months, though his surgeons could not trace the cause.

"I hear what my cousin Ma says," he began, speaking slowly, every word, it seemed, considered. "And while what he says makes sense, I am still loath to throw away what we have fought so hard to keep.

History teaches that, once lost, territory can never be regained so easily. So with Africa. Withdraw and we withdraw for good. Chung Kuo will be diminished. Not only that, but it will be seen by all to be a sign of weakness; a sign so large that even the most myopic of our enemies might read it. Therefore my counsel is against withdrawal. I say we should persevere. Until times turn to our favor once again."

Li Yuan sat back. "I hear you, cousin, and, were it merely a matter of withdrawal, would agree with you entirely. It would not do to display any sign of weakness. And that is why I am suggesting that we make of this necessity a virtue."

"How so?" Tsu Ma asked.

Li Yuan smiled. "Can we meet?"

"In person?"

"It would be best."

Tsu Ma frowned. "Forgive me, Yuan, but is that wise, given the climate of the times?"

"It must be so. For what I have to say is for the ears of us three alone. The days were when we could trust such distant communications as this to be discreet are past. We must assume that every call is monitored, every communication suspect."

Wei Tseng-li nodded. "I, for one, agree."

"Then so be it," Tsu Ma said with a sigh. "We shall arrange a time and place to settle this for good and all. Until then, may the gods preserve you, cousins."

"And you," Li Yuan said, breaking contact.

Tsu Ma was right, of course. It was dangerous for all three of them to meet in person. Extremely dangerous, given the circumstances. But there was no option. He could not go ahead without their consent, and for his scheme to work absolute confidentiality was needed. So ... they would have to meet.

But where? And when?

Li Yuan smiled. The answer was staring him in the face. Tsu Ma's betrothal ceremony! What better opportunity for an informal meeting? Why, they could have it here, at Tongjiang, and then Karr could look after the security.

Yes, and maybe it would prove a turning point-the first step on the long road to recovery.

Li Yuan nodded to himself, then, taking a brush from the inkstand, began to pen a memorandum for his Chancellor.

KARR SLIPPED the coded key into the lock, let the scanner register his retinal imprint, then slid the door back quietly, listening for sounds from within.

It was silent. He set down his pack and turned, looking about him. Nothing had changed. Even the smellwas how he remembered it. For a moment he closed his eyes. Six months it had been since he'd last stood here. Six months.

He slid the door closed, then went through. The door to May's room was open. He stood there, looking in, bewitched by the sight that met his eyes. The three-year-old lay on her back, her mouth open, her legs splayed carelessly in sleep. Beside her lay his wife, his darling Marie, her back to him, her long dark hair spread out upon the pillow.

He felt his heart go out to them both, felt all the longing, the heartache he'd suffered being away from them, well up in him again.

Home. He was home.

He made to step back, when she turned, drowsy eyed, and looked at him.

"Gregor?" Then, suddenly more awake. "Gregor?"

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, then, with a brief glance at her sleeping child, came across to him.

They embraced, long months of denial shaping the passion of their kisses. It was eight weeks since she'd last visited him in Africa.

She drew back, breathless. "Gods, I've missed you!"

He stared back at her, her beautiful face only inches from his, as it was every night in his dreams. "And I've missed you."

"How much?" She reached down, then giggled. "Oh, that much, huh?"

He grinned. "Here?"

She shook her head, then pulled May's door across. "No. In the shower. I've dreamed of it. Dreamed of you and me in there together."

He laughed. "You think I smell?"

"Like a pig, but I don't care. Come on, I need you right now."

He followed her into the shower unit, his hand never leaving hers. Then they were undressing frantically, his hands caressing her, his eyes drinking in her lovely nakedness.

"Marie ... oh, Marie."

As the water fell, shockingly cold at first and then hot, he entered her, her gasp, the look of pained delight in her eyes making him shudder and come instantly.

"Aiya!" he said, grimacing, pinning her against the wall as he thrust into her again and again and again.

And then she was crying out, unable to help herself, pressing against him so tight, it seemed she wanted to breach him. He shuddered, then let his face fall against her shoulder. And still the water fell.

They were still for a moment, silent, and then she reached up and turned his face, making him look at her.

"What's happened?"

He laughed, almost making some wisecrack, then grew serious. "I've a new appointment. A promotion."Her eyes widened. "A promotion? But I thought-"

"No." He laughed "Not Rheinhardt's job. Not yet, anyway. I'm to be Ssu'li HsiaO'ivei."

She frowned. "Colonel of Security? But . . ." Then she understood. "Li Yuan! You're to be Li Yuan's own Colonel!"

He nodded, his smile mirroring that on her face now. "I've to report to him tomorrow. We're moving, my love. Moving to Tongjiang!"

Tsu MA reined in his horse and leaned forward in the saddle, looking out over the edge of the cliff. Far below him the sea boiled about the dark and jagged rocks as the water sucked back. A moment later the next huge wave crashed against the granite, throwing a fine spray high up the cliff face. The grass beneath his horse's hooves was slick with salt, the air misted, sharply cold.

He turned and watched as his young nephews caught up with him. Breathless, they drew alongside, their horses' heads pulling against the bit, afraid of the drop only a pace or two away. Their finely braided coats steamed in the cold air, their hooves dragging impatiently at the hard earth after their headlong gallop.

Tsu Ma laughed, seeing how his heirs were watching him uncertainly, their eyes going briefly to the steep drop, then returning to his face. They said nothing, yet their expressions were eloquent.

His brother's sons. Resting one arm on the pommel, he leaned forward, studying them. The eldest, Tsu Kung-chih, was like his father, taller than Tsu Ma and-though only nineteen-broader at the shoulders.

His physical presence was misleading, however, for in his features he had inherited all the weaknesses of his maternal grandfather-a certain limpness in the mouth, an absence of muscle in the jaw, a softness to his nose and narrow brow. His eyes-which seldom met those of his uncle-were the eyes of a salesman; calculating, yet somehow unambitious. Small, petty eyes. All in all it was a face that few would trust-the face of a vassal, not a T'ang. Seeing that face steeled Tsu Ma in his purpose and made him put all feeling from his heart.

Beside Kung-chih sat a smaller, lither boy, Tao Chu. Tsu Ma smiled as he looked at him and saw how the fifteen-year-old smiled back, all the while smoothing his horse's neck to calm it. Tao Chu was very much his mother's son, half-brother to Kung-chih, yet Tsu Ma saw something of himself in the boy. Tao Chu had nothing of his half-brother's awkwardness but was direct and open-was in every way a natural ruler, a T'ang, with a T'ang's generosity of spirit. There was strength in his laughter and power in his smallest, subtlest action-a restrained power that only Tsu Ma seemed to recognize in him. Wind gusted through his fine hair, spilling its neat-cut strands across his brow. The boy shook his head and looked away a moment. For him this would be far easier. He, after all, had never thought to rule. Even so, Tao Chu was fiercely loyal to his undeserving half-brother and would feel this disappointment keenly on his behalf.

Tsu Ma straightened and, raising his voice against the sound of wind and wave, spoke.

"I am going to be married."

He saw how Kung-chih's face struggled with the words, how he turned to look at Tao Chu, as if the younger boy might explain it to him; but Tao Chu was watching his uncle carefully.

"When?" he asked, and Tsu Ma could see that he had weighed it all at once-as if he had preparedhimself for this moment.

Tsu Ma smiled sadly. "The betrothal ceremony is to take place this very week."

Kung-chih was still watching his half-brother, his face stiff with shock. Then, slowly, he turned to face Tsu Ma, the severity of his disappointment there, open, in his face. For a moment he stared back at his uncle, his mouth half open, then, abruptly, he turned his horse and galloped away. Tao Chu stayed a moment longer, then, with a bow to his uncle, he turned his horse and raced after his brother.

Tsu Ma watched until they were tiny figures in the distance, then turned his horse and followed the cliffs edge, staring down at the raging sea. It was done. Tsu Kung-chih's dream of inheritance was shattered.

Tsu Ma lifted his face and stopped his mount, looking out across the sea's gray, uneven surface. He had left this too long and now it seemed a kind of cruelty. This marriage would win him few friends in his immediate family.

"Well ... so be it," he said softly, the words torn from his lips by the wind. So be it. But he was determined now. He would do what he had refused to do before this day and settle down; have sons and watch them grow. Sons like Tao Chu or like his friend, Li Yuan. And in his old age they would rule in his place; strong, wise, decisive-sons he could be proud of.

Unbidden, a tear came to his eye. Turning away, he forced the horse into a gallop, heading back across the open fields toward the estate, thinking of the one woman he had loved.

Of Fei Yen . . . and of the boy, Han.

F EI yen stood at the window of her room, watching the imperial cruiser land behind the hangar on the far side of the lake, nervous anticipation making her stomach cramp.

She had sent the letter two days back when she had been at a low ebb. There had been arguments with her eldest brother over her son, Han Ch'in, and then, out of the blue, her latest lover had packed his bags. She had written it only an hour after he'd gone, filled with remorse and self-loathing, and had had a messenger deliver it at once. But in the clear light of morning she had panicked, bitterly regretting her action and praying to the ten thousand gods that he would never see it, never even-perhaps-get to hear of it. But now it was clearly too late. The presence of his cruiser said as much. Now she would know what he thought of her.

She went to her wardrobe and searched for something to wear to greet his messenger. Something simple and yet sophisticated. Something that might suggest she was a woman in control of her life, contented with her lot. She took down a simple red chi pao, then put it back. No, red was the wedding color-the color of happiness and celebration. Black, then? She hesitated a moment, then, realizing she hadn't any time, took it down and, peeling off what she was wearing, hurriedly pulled it on.

There was no time for maids and lengthy preparations. Besides, it was only a messenger. If he was anything like most men, he would scarcely notice what she was wearing. Even so ...

She stood before the mirror, combing her hair quickly, then putting it up in a bun. Yes, that was it. That was the look she was trying for. She smiled, practicing courteous phrases to greet him, then, satisfied, she turned and hurried from the room.

She met him at the front door, standing dutifully behind her brother as he went through the rituals of greeting.

As he introduced her, she bowed low, making herself the very picture of demureness."Well, Tsung Ye," her brother said, inviting the man inside, "how can I be of assistance?"

Tsung Ye, however, stood his ground, a polite smile on his face. "Forgive me, Prince Yin, if 1 decline your most generous offer, but my instructions are clear. 1 am to escort your sister, the Princess Yin Fei Yen, back to Tongjiang without delay."

Hearing the words, Fei Yen felt faint. Tongjiang! She had never meant this to happen! He had sent for her. Li Yuan had sent for her!

"You have instructions?" Yin Sung asked, puzzled.

"Here, Prince Yin," Tsung said, taking a sealed letter from his pouch and handing it to him.

Sung studied it a moment, noting the Chancellor's wax seal, then broke it open. He read it quickly, then, frowning, handed it to his sister.

"Do you know what this is about?"

Fei Yen shook her head, conscious that she was blushing. "I have no idea, brother. Why I-"

"Forgive me," Tsung Ye interrupted, "but my instructions . . ."

"Of course." Yin Sung gave a bow, acknowledging Tsung Ye's status as his Master's messenger, then turned and summoned one of the house servants. "Bring Lady Fei's cloak. She must leave at once."

Then, looking to his sister, he took her arm, speaking more gently than before. "You will tell me if you need me, neh?"

"Yes, eldest brother."

"Good. In the meantime I shall make sure Han Ch'in is well looked after."