"Husband," she said, dropping to her knees and lowering her head.

"Get up, Pei K'ung," he said, motioning her across. "What is it? Is your father ill?"

"My father?" She frowned then shook her head. "No. But 1 am angry."

He raised an eyebrow. :"I visited the imperial library."

"And?"

She drew herself up straight, the full weight of her indignation in her voice. "And the old man sent me away as if I were a common serving maid!"

Li Yuan gave a shout of laughter and leaned toward her. "Chu Shi- ch'e, you mean?"

She bristled with anger. "I don't see what is funny. You should punish him for his impudence!"

"Punish him? Punish Chu Shi-ch'e? Why, the man is ninety if he is a day! If I punished him I would kill him, and I am loath to do that, Pei K'ung. Besides, what did he say?"

"He said I could not look at the family archives. That I needed your permission."

He smiled. "So?"

She stared at him, astonished. "You mean . . . it's true?"

"Of course." He watched her, his eyes amused.

She let out a shuddering breath, then turned and went to the door. "Pei K'ung . . ."

She stopped, her hand on the door's thick edge. "Come here, Pei K'ung."

She turned and went across, her whole manner set against him now. "Yes, husband?" He took a pen and inked it, then wrote a note and signed it, pressing his seal to the bottom of the paper.

"There," he said, handing it to her. "But let's have no more talk of punishment. The Pi-shu Chien is one of our finest servants. He served my father and my grandfather before him. Sixty-eight years he has filled that post and there is no man in the whole of Chung Kuo who knows more about or is more loyal to our family. Use him well, good wife, but do not anger him. Chu Shi-ch'e can be a cursed old crow when he's angered!"

She laughed, surprised; then, with a bow of thanks, turned and left.

Outside she stopped and stared at the permission letter then shook her head. Why, he hadn't even asked! He had simply signed it, trusting her.

Trusting her ...

The thought was sobering. Yet what had she expected?

I expected him to say no.

She stood there a moment longer, then, the letter held out carefully at her side, she began to walk, heading for the library once more, her two secretaries falling in behind her as she went.

LEHMANN SAT ON the sofa in the corner of the room, his booted feet on a low table, staring at his Financial Strategist, Cao Chang, who stood, head bowed before him.

"Well, Cao Chang? What will it cost us?"Cao Chang hesitated. "Is this the place to discuss this, Master?"

Lehmann waved aside the objection. "Our guests are busy, Chang. We are as safe talking here as anywhere. So tell me. What would it cost us to depose of the T'ang?"

Cao Chang gave a bow, then took a tiny cassette from the breast pocket of his black silk pau and slid the thin, domino-shaped tape into the slot behind his ear. His eyes glazed a moment, then came clear. He was suddenly more alert, his speech more hurried, as if it sought to keep up with the accelerated pace of his thoughts.

"Our analysis shows nine main elements. Three of these, recruitment, training, and weaponry, might need to be adjusted upward should our policy in Africa prove unsuccessful. For my calculations, however, I have assumed a training period of six months and a total figure of two million, eight hundred thousand men, including a mercenary force of half a million."

Lehmann nodded. "Good. Now outline the other six elements."

"One," Cao Chang began, enumerating each point on his fingers. "The cost of fermenting revolt in Li Yuan's African armies. Important in preventing Li Yuan from using those forces directly against us. Two.

The cost of pacifying our Triad friends in Africa. Important in ensuring that they do not take the opportunity to step in and take over our South European operations. Three. The infiltration of Li Yuan's European Security forces and the purchase of a minimum of two thousand top-level officers. Important in undermining the efficient operation of Li Yuan's forces in the first hours of our attack. Four. The purchase of tai at Weimar in the weeks running up to our operation. Important in helping to create a mood of popular dissent. Five. The funding of terrorist factions in both East and West Asia. Vitally important if we are to keep Tsu Ma and Wei Tseng-li from joining Li Yuan. Six. The cost of destroying major GenSyn installations in the hours before our attack, particularly the five Hei garrisons."

"And the costs?"

There was the briefest flicker of hesitation, then the figures spilled from Cao Chang's lips.

"For recruitment and training, forty-seven point six billion. For weaponry, sixty-eight point eight billion.

To pay off the African armies, twenty-four point five billion. To pacify our Triad friends, fifty-six billion.

For the infiltration of Li Yuan's security forces, sixteen point four billion. For the purchase of tai, three point five billion. To fund terrorist factions in the Asian Cities, fifty-two billion. To destroy major GenSyn installations, twenty-two point two billion. That comes to two hundred and ninety-one billion. Add to that a wastage factor of twenty percent and the final figure is three hundred and forty-nine point two billion yuan."

Lehmann nodded. It was a huge sum, but no more than he had anticipated.

"Thank you, Cao Chang. You have done well. Relax now. Take a girl, if you want."

Cao Chang gave a deep bow, then turned away, vanishing through the bead curtain on the far side of the room.

Lehmann took his feet from the table and sat forward, staring into space. Though three hundred and fifty billion was a massive sum-the equivalent of three years' profits from all his ventures-raising the money wasn't the problem. The problem would be keeping the details of his scheme secret from Li Yuan. Not that he had any illusions about that. Both he and Li Yuan knew now that a war must come. Both had begun their preparations. But when and how it would be fought, that was the nub of it.Timing was everything.

He sighed, then sat back, looking about him at the plush decor of the foyer, feeling a natural aversion to its silk-cushioned opulence. He had had the House of the Ninth Ecstasy gutted and rebuilt, much as it was when Mu Chua, its legendary Madam, had been running it. Not only that, but he had had Mu Chua reconstructed, too, using visual records to recreate a GenSyn duplicate of the woman. Fifteen million she had cost him, all told-including the fees of the assassins he had sent to cover his tracks-but it had been money well spent; perhaps the best fifteen million he had ever spent.

Whatever he personally felt about such places, there was no denying their usefulness. In the eighteen months since he had rebuilt it, the House of the Ninth Ecstasy had regained its former prestige as a watering hole for Above merchants wishing to do business "down-level," its reputation spreading far and wide. All sorts were attracted here, lured by rumors of what could be had in the Madam's famous "Red Room"- Security officers and Company Heads, Minor Family princes and sons of the rich and famous, Representatives from the House and even, once, a Junior Minister. Through Mu Chua he snared them all.

Drew them all into his cage.

Like birds, he thought, then stood, stretching his long, pale limbs, feeling the power there in every movement. He smiled: a bleak, corpselike smile.

It was time to use those connections: to make the birds flutter in their cages.

TOLONEN TRAVELED UP to Lubeck shortly after lunch. Madam Peng was waiting for him at the door to her First Level salon, her eight assistants lined up behind her to greet their prestigious visitor.

Rotund and birdlike, as her name-Peng-suggested, the Madam hovered anxiously as the eight polemen set the Marshal's sedan down.

She had entertained many prominent citizens in the thirty-four years she had been in business and prided herself on the quality-the exclusivity-of her clientele, but never had one so elevated or so powerful entered through her doors.

"Marshal Tolonen," she said, bowing low, her eight assistants kneel- ing at her back, four to her left, four to her right, their foreheads scraping the thickly carpeted floor.

"Madam Peng," he said, stepping forward to take her gloved hand and gallantly kiss it. "I am grateful you could see me at such short notice."

"Not at all, Marshal," the Madam answered, a smile splitting her heavily rouged lips. "You honor my humble salon with your presence. Please, come through. I have canceled all other engagements to see you."

"You are most kind," Tolonen answered, inclining his head, then moved between the twin ranks of assistants.

"Forgive me if I sound impertinent, Marshal," the Madam said, hurrying to catch up with him, "but might I say how well you look."

Tolonen nodded, clearly distracted by his thoughts. Yet it was true. The old man looked closer to sixty than eighty-one. He had kept himself supremely fit, and though his stubble-length hair was the color of snow, his eyes were clear and strong. Even in his casual silks he looked exactly what he was-a leader of men-and seemed a match for any man half his age.Double doors opened automatically before them and the two stepped through, into the Madam's "boudoir." Here she did all her business. Here, surrounded by her bright silk wall-hangings, across the low black antique table that dominated the center of the richly decorated space, she had made her reputation as City Europe's leading matchmaker.

Showing the Marshal to a sturdy chair that had been imported specially for the occasion, she plumped herself down on a sofa facing him, her ample figure settling into the big silk cushions like a brightly colored bird into its nest.

"Well, Marshal," she began, her ancient and thickly powdered Han face grinning broadly-almost obscenely-as a servant approached bearing a tray of wine and sweetmeats, "how exactly can I help you?"

It was not unusual for an old man to want a young wife, especially as they came to realize that their grip on mortality was growing daily more tenuous, yet somehow she had never thought Tolonen the type. Still, she was prepared, and had spent an hour that morning selecting a handful of special girls that might well suit his profile.

Tolonen waved away the offer of a drink and leaned toward her, his gray eyes troubled.

"It is my daughter, Jelka. I ..." He looked at the servant, reluctant to say more. At once Madam Peng dismissed the man.

She sat up slightly, smiling reassuringly. "All that is said between us here is absolutely confidential, Marshal. But forgive me ... when you spoke to me yesterday, I thought . . . well, I thought you meant to take a bride yourself."

"A bride! Me?" Tolonen laughed, but his eyes seemed horrified by the notion. "Gods, no, Madam Peng!

It is my daughter, Jelka, I'm worried about. She . . ." Again he seemed ill at ease broaching the subject.

"Well, to be blunt with you, she has a crush on an awful little fellow-a Clayborn by the name of Ward.

He-"

She put her hand out, her face all sympathy now. "You need not say another word, Marshal Tolonen. I quite understand. Why, even the thought of it is absurd, neh?"

Tolonen smiled weakly.

"No. You were absolutely right to come to me." She leaned forward, her fingers brushing a pad on the desk in front of her. At once a screen came up out of the surface, facing her. She tapped in a few words, then eased back, smiling at Tolonen once again. "It's true what they say, neh, Marshal? Clay is Clay. It cannot be raised."

He nodded, comforted, it seemed, by her understanding.

"Now, your daughter is"-she studied the details on the screen- "twenty-four, I see. So your principal worry is, I guess, that she will do something silly after her Coming-of-Age in three weeks' time."

Tolonen swallowed. "That is so."

"Then we must act quickly, neh? We must somehow find a way to break this former attraction. And what better way than by creating a new one?"

She leaned forward, tapping at the keys, the huge golden rings on her fingers glittering in the spotlights.

She paused, watching the data come up, then, satisfied, sat back, the screen lowering into the table'ssurface once again.

Slowly the lights dimmed. At the center of the table was now a faint red glow, dull and misty.

"You know your daughter well, Marshal Tolonen?"

"Well enough," he answered from the darkness where he sat. "Her mother died giving birth to her. I raised her from a child."

"Ah . . ."

"If it helps, she was engaged once. To Hans Ebert."

"Ah yes, I recall that now. She was . . . reluctant, am I right?"

Tolonen sighed. "She hated him, if the truth be told. I tried to force her into the marriage. I ... Well, I do not want to make the same mistake again, Madam Peng, let me make that clear. She must choose her own mate. But not him. Not Ward!"

There was a vehemence to the last few words that made Madam Peng reassess the situation. If he was so worked up about it, then there was clearly a very red danger that his daugher would marry the Clayborn. That made her own task more difficult; made it essential that she knew everything there was to know about the matter, for to fail in this, her most prestigious case-well, it was unthinkable. As unthinkable as the Marshal's daughter marrying a Clayborn!

"This Clayborn . . ." she began, trying her best to be tactful. "This Ward. What is it, do you think, that attracts your daughter to him?"

The old man's laugh was sour. "The gods alone know. Oh, he's clever enough, there's no doubting that, and he has the T'ang's ear in matters scientific, but ... well, as to what attracts her physically . . *"

"1 see," she said, after a moment's awkward silence. "And yet there is an attraction? You're quite sure of that?"

"Oh, yes. She wanted to marry him! She defied me openly, in front of old friends who'd come to dinner!

Why, I had to send her away to prevent it."

Madam Peng sighed silently. The more she heard, the less she liked this commission, but it was too late now-she had committed herself the moment she had invited the old man to come and visit her. If she turned him away now it would get about-for rumor had a vicious tongue in her circles-and her reputation would be damaged. Then again, it was far from certain she could do anything meaningful in the circumstances. If what she'd heard was true, the Marshal's daughter was a headstrong, independent young madam.

"Okay," she said, her voice betraying nothing of her thoughts. "Let us try to build up some kind of profile of what she finds attractive in a man. This Ward ... I assume he's the usual type ... big head, bulgy, staring eyes, stunted body?"

Tolonen grunted, his discomfort evident.

"So. My guess is that it's not actually something physical your daughter is responding to, but some . . .

inner quality. You say he's very intelligent."

"Perhaps the most intelligent young man on the planet, Ben Shepherd aside."She brightened, letting her voice grow more animated. "Then that's it! What we need to do is look for a young man who is not merely good looking, but bright with it!"

"Maybe," the old man said uncertainly. "And yet Ebert was bright."

"Yes, but look what a foul piece of work he turned out to be. Why, it wouldn't surprise me if something in his manner alerted your daughter!"

Tolonen laughed. "I'm beginning to understand just why you have such a good reputation, Madam Peng.

It was as you say. But tell me, who do you have in mind?"

He heard the tap of her fingers on the keyboard. There was a brief delay and then the hazy red glow at the center of the table began to intensify and grow.

"I have programmed the Selector to search the files for eligible young men who fit the profile. It will come up with those four that best fit the parameters we've been discussing. Then . . . well, we'll take a look at them, neh, Marshal Tolonen? And then you can tell me which of them you'd like to pay your daughter a visit over the coming weeks."

THE SIGN flickered FITFULLY, sending a sweet burning scent into the air. Emily, standing at the rail of the balcony two floors up, looked down at it, seeing how the giant electronic mantis seemed to spring and trap its prey, its long tongue moving with an inhuman quickness.

Two guards, plainly dressed but carrying Security-issue automatics, stood by the door, moving the curious along. Inside Pasek waited for her.