She bowed, keeping all the worries she was feeling at that moment-for her son and for herself-from her face.

"Good," he said again. "Then go. Chancellor Nan expects you."

Yes, she thought, letting the servant put her cloak about her shoulders, then hurried down the path after the T'ang's messenger.

THE GREAT HALL at Tongjiang was cold and dimly lit, the huge space between the pillars empty, the flagstones black with age. Torches flickered in iron baskets hung about the wall, the shadows of the pillars wavering like the dancing limbs of giants, but in the center it was almost dark. There, at that center point, on a ceremonial chair that had been set down by the honor guard, sat Fei Yen. She had sat there for an hour now, alone in the silence, waiting.

On a narrow balcony overlooking the Hall, Pei K'ung looked on from behind a lattice screen, studying the figure in the chair. Her husband had once loved the woman-loved her to the point of distraction . . .

and beyond. If rumor were correct he had once in anger killed all her horses while she, in answer, had told him that the child in her belly was not his.

Pei K'ung gave a small shuddering sigh. Maybe it was just the time of the month, but the last few days her emotions had been in turmoil. She had thought herself beyond such juvenile feelings, but it seemed it wasn't so. That feeling she had experienced reading Fei Yen's note to her husband-she recognized itnow. It was jealousy. She was jealous of what this woman had once had with her husband, and afraid-no, terrified-that that feeling still existed between them.

Agitated, she fanned herself, then turned away, slipping quietly from the balcony, her servants following after. She was tempted to send the bitch straight home again-to snub her regally-but that would solve nothing. She had to speak to her.

And if it was as she feared?

She pictured herself confronting her husband; saw him laugh and turn from her, dismissing her without a word, returning to his men as if she were not there. She shivered, forcing herself to walk on, to show nothing of her inner turmoil. Could she face that? Could she live with that rejection?

Of course she would. After all, that was the deal, was it not? To be a wife in name alone, while he ...

She stopped dead, her servants almost stumbling over her.

Maybe that was what she should do. Maybe she should put the woman in his bed, to show him that she knew. To prove she was no fool.

Yes, but what if she were wrong? What if her husband hadn't been meeting Fei Yen secretly? And what if her action proved the beginning of a reconciliation between Fei Yen and him?

She whirled about, heading for her rooms.

No. Li Yuan must not even know she had been here. She must meet the woman and dispense with her.

Threaten her, if necessary. After all, it was she who had the power now. She who was Empress.

Yes, but if Li Yuan loves her still . . .

She stopped, groaning softly, reaching out to steady herself against the wall. At once her servants rushed to her and held her up, as if she were ill, but she brushed them off angrily.

"Leave me be!"

"But, Mistress . . ."

She turned on Tsung Ye, who had spoken, and glared at him. At once he bowed his head.

"Tsung Ye. Let her sit there another hour, then bring her to my study. And let no one go to her or speak with her. Understand?"

Tsung Ye nodded, then backed away.

She took a long breath, calming herself, then walked on. An hour. She nodded savagely. Yes, let her wait-it would do the bitch good to stew for another hour. In the meantime she would bathe and change her clothes. Then she would deal with this matter. Deal with it once and for all.

FEI YEN waited outside the door as Tsung Ye went inside, her mouth dry, her heart racing. It was more than five years since she had last seen Li Yuan, that day in the Great Room at the estate in Hei Shui-the day after his wives had been killed. Then, astonishingly, he had asked her to come back to him, had begged her to try again, but she had sent him away, pride and anger, and the fear perhaps of him discarding her again, keeping her from saying yes.

The years had passed and no further word had come. Li Yuan had married again, immersing himself inhis work. And the Great Wheel had turned, and slowly, very slowly, she had grown older. Older, yes, and ever less content.

Aiya! she thought, looking down at her hands. What am I doing? What madness brought me here?

Was it love that had brought her here? Or was it simple bitterness? Bitterness that her dreams had not come true?

"Princess Yin . . ."

Tsung Ye stood with his hand on the open door, his head bowed, waiting for her. Swallowing, she brushed her palms against her sides, then stepped past him into the room.

"Yin Fei Yen . . ."

She heard the door click shut behind her, and squinted into the sunlight on the far side of the room where, behind a huge desk by the window, someone sat.

For a moment she did not recognize the voice. She hesitated, confused that it was not Li Yuan, not understanding what was happening.

"Please, Lady Fei, come closer to the desk."

This time she understood. Pei K'ung! It was his wife, Pei K'ung. She bowed her head and slowly crossed the room, a small knot of fear at the pit of her stomach. Was this his doing? Was this his way of humiliating her?

That thought dispelled the fear, replacing it with anger.

She stopped, two paces from the desk, her head held defiantly aloft, her eyes boring into those of the Empress.

"Am I not to see Li Yuan?"

Pei K'ung stared back at her uncompromisingly, her eyes hard, her whole manner stern, like a mother-in-law. "Li Yuan is not here. He is away on business."

Fei Yen took that in, trying to assess the significance of it. Was that deliberate on his part? Was this all-the summons, the two hours wait, and now this-simply an elaborate snub; his way of getting back at her for her rejection of him? She bristled with anger at the thought, and held herself straighter. She was worth ten of this aged fishwife. Why, if rumor were to be believed, Li Yuan did not even sleep with her.

And who could blame him? Ugly was perhaps too strong a word for it, but for certain the woman was plain.

"I am sorry to hear that," she answered, as if it were of no importance. "I had hoped to give him my regards."

Pei K'ung stared at her a moment longer, then looked away, a short, sardonic laugh her only comment.

Fei Yen waited, wondering what this woman wanted-what she had been instructed to do. Whatever it was, she was determined not to be belittled by her. Whatever the woman said, she would give as good as she got. Besides, who knew whether what she had said were true? For all she knew Li Yuan was in the next room, watching all.

She studied Pei K'ung a moment, noting the elegant cut of her silks, the sophisticated way she had put upher hair, and wondered if that had been done specially for this meeting. Whatever, they did little to allay the severity of her features. To be frank, there was something almost masculine about the Empress. Her nose was too long, her hands too big, her ears . . . She almost laughed. Why, without the expensive silks the woman would have looked little better than the coarsest peasant's wife. The thought of it gave her confidence. "Am I to be granted an audience?"

Pei K'ung looked back at her. "An audience?" Her voice was scathingly dismissive. "No, Lady Fei. This is the closest you will ever get to seeing my husband. I will not permit him to be distracted over such a . .

. trivial matter."

The words made Fei Yen reassess the situation. Li Yuan didn't know! Why, he wasn't even aware that she was there at Tongjiang! Yet if that was the case, then why had Nan Ho summoned her?

Her eyes quickly searched the desk and found what she was looking for. There it was, beside the elaborate jade inkstand. Nan Ho's spare seal. She recognized it from former days.

Fei Yen felt herself go still. She had got it wrong. She had thought Li Yuan himself had summoned her, using his Chancellor as a go-between, but it had been Pei K'ung. For some reason the Empress had wanted to see her face to face. But why? Was it, as she said, to keep her husband from so-called "trivial"

distractions? Or was there another, deeper reason?

She met Pei K'ung's eyes again and laughed. Saw how her laughter lit some inner fuse of anger. Anger, yes, and something else. "What are you afraid of, Pei K'ung?" "Afraid?" Pei K'ung's laughter was humorless. "I am not afraid, Yin Fei Yen. Certainly not of you. You forget who you speak to. I am the Empress and my powers-"

"Are your husband's powers. No more, no less. You forget who you speak to. You forget that I once sat where you now sit. Yes, and shared my husband's bed."

She regretted it as soon as it was uttered; yet she had not been wrong. Pei K'ung had started at the words. Now, her manner much stiffer, she leaned toward Fei Yen.

"Yes, and he divorced you. Do you forget that, Lady Fei?"

"He was but a boy-"

"And wayward, as boys are. He should never have married you. You were his brother's wife."

No more than you are Yuan's, she thought to say, but this time something held her back. It was true. If Han Ch'in had not been killed, she would be Empress now. If he had not been killed, then none of this would have happened. She shivered and looked down.

"What did you want?" Pei K'ung asked after a moment, her voice more neutral than before. "What did you think you would achieve after all this time?"

Fei Yen looked up and shrugged, feeling suddenly less hostile toward the woman. Was it her fault Li Yuan had married her? And was it her fault he preferred to have much younger women in his bed?

"To be honest, I was hoping for some form of advancement for my son. Han Ch'in is eight now . . . nine this September. I thought-"

Pei K'ung's answer was blunt. "Is the estate at Hei Shui not enough for you? Nor the pension you and your son receive? Why, considering the circumstances-"Furious, Fei Yen grasped the edge of the desk and leaned toward the other woman, shouting at her now.

"He owed me that! That and much more! It was his neglect, his indifference toward me-"

"And your betrayal!"

She moved back slightly, shaking her head. "No. He betrayed me long before I ever thought to stray. It was he who cheated me. Cheated me first of my rightful place in his bed, and then of my son's rightful birthright!"

"His rightful birthright!" Pei K'ung sat back, laughing scornfully. "Why, your son's a bastard, Yin Fei Yen . . . yes, and no better than any gardener's son, I bet!"

Fei Yen stood up straight, her anger cold now and unforgiving. "If you but knew the truth of it, Pei K'ung." She turned and walked slowly, with great dignity, to the door, then looked back at Pei K'ung. "If you but knew . . ."

PEI K ' U N G sat there after she'd gone, staring at the open door.

Now what in the gods' names had Fei Yen meant by that? Cheated? How cheated? No. There had been tests to ascertain the boy's father. Why, if there had been any doubt, Li Yuan would never have divorced her. . . .

Her mouth fell open. No. It wasn't possible. Fei Yen would have contested it.

But what if she hadn't known? What if Li Yuan had kept the knowledge secret?

It made no sense. If Han Ch'in were Li Yuan's son and Fei Yen had known that-known it for certain-then she would have moved heaven and earth to have him made heir. No mother would have done less. But she had done nothing.

So what did Fei Yen mean? Why had she been so angry at the suggestion of her son's low origins?

Mystery. It was all shrouded in mystery. But the truth was in there somewhere and she would find it out.

And Fei Yen?

Fei Yen was beautiful. There was no denying that. Still beautiful enough to turn a prince's head ... or a T'ang's.

Pei K'ung shivered, knowing that for all she had said, the matter was far from settled; that, far from scaring the Lady Fei away, she had merely made her more determined.

Yes, she thought, but 1 shall win in the end, for though you are beautiful, time is on my side. The days, which rob you of your beauty, shall slowly make me indispensable to my husband.

Beauty. Pah! She would show them how little beauty meant! Why, she could fill her husband's bed with a thousand dumb beauties, and still he would depend on her!

She laughed, determined on it, knowing now what had to be done, then rang the bell to summon Tsung Ye, keen to begin the task.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Secret Languages.

KI M ? . . . Kim! Wake up!"

The young man turned, gasping, his left hand reaching for the ceiling, then woke, his dark eyes blinking.

"Pandra vyth gwres?"

The Machine's voice answered him, soft, reassuring, in the dimly lit room. "It's Curval. There's an emergency."

Kim sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Four-seventeen. Now get dressed. You're needed."

Kim didn't argue. He pulled on his one-piece and went out into the corridor. Alarms were sounding distantly and he could hear shouts and running feet.

Kim began to run, heading toward the source of the sound. At the first turn he almost cannoned into Curval, coming to get him.

"What's happening?"

Curval was breathless. He raked his fingers across his bald pate, getting his breath, then answered. "It's Ravachol. He escaped from his cell. He took one of the guards by surprise. Stole his knife."

"Shit!" Kim thought quickly. "Where is it now?"

"The guards have got it hemmed in on the far side of the labs. It's been breaking everything it can get its hands on!"

Kim nodded, pained by what he was hearing, then touched Curval's arm. "Okay. Let's get over there."

They could hear the smashing of glass long before they turned the corner and came out into the main laboratory area. Ravachol was on the far side of the benches, going from one store-cupboard to the next, pulling whatever he could from within and hurling it onto the floor. A dozen guards crouched behind the nearest benches, stun guns leveled at the android. As Kim came into the room, their Captain came across.