Nan Ho turned to him. "Delay?""Yes, Master. If we could find some . . . distraction, perhaps, to keep him from pursuing the matter.

Some-"

Nan Ho raised a hand. At once Hu Chang fell silent, bowing his head.

"He wants it done tonight. The divorce document is being drawn up even as we speak. Tsung Ye's confession . . . achh!" He heaved a great sigh of exasperation, then stood, his restlessness taking a physical form. "I should have ignored my conscience and had the woman killed while I could."

Hu Chang's eyes followed his Master, appalled by what he was hearing. Never had Nan Ho spoke of killing anyone. Always he had been a voice of reason. But this matter, it seemed, had stripped all rationality from him ... or revealed it?

Hu Chang swallowed, then spoke up. "To kill her. It would solve nothing, Master."

"No?" Nan Ho turned to him. "You do not know the woman, Hu Chang. Such deviousness . . ." Again he shook his head. "And this time she will not be so easy to dislodge. This time-"

The summons bell rang. Nan Ho stared at it, then grimaced.

"That will be him. Go to him, Hu Chang. Tell him that I am sick and have taken to my bed. Tell him-"

Nan Ho stopped, lowering his head, genuine pain there suddenly. "My boy ... my poor, poor boy. How could he do this to himself a second time? How can I bear to stand by and watch it happen?"

The bell rang again.

"You want me to go, Master?"

Nan Ho looked at him, then smiled sadly. "No, Hu Chang. It is my duty to attend. My duty to serve, whatever my Master asks of me. It is the way, neh? Wherever it leads."

Hu Chang bowed his head, relieved to see his Master returned to his former self.

Nan Ho came across, touching his arm gently, then went from the room, making his way toward Li Yuan's rooms, ready to serve his Master, whatever was asked of him.

"You summoned me, Chieh Hsia?"

Li Yuan looked up and waved Nan Ho across. "Have you heard, Master Nan?"

"Heard, Chieh Usia?"

Li Yuan handed him the single sheet of paper. "It arrived a moment back. Copies are being posted throughout our City even as we speak."

Nan Ho read it through, then looked up, his face blanched, his eyes bewildered. "But this says-"

"The Mandate is broken . . . that's what it says. The Pa shi yi have declared my government invalid. They have sanctioned open rebellion."

Nan Ho stared back at him. "Aiya ..." * * .

"Aiya indeed. Yet not unexpected, neh?""Unexpected?"

"We have known for some while now that the New Confucians were dissatisfied with things. And your meeting this morning . . . well, did you not sense this in the air, Master Nan?"

Nan Ho shook his head. It seemed he had foreseen few of these developments. "But what shall we do?"

"Do? Why, we have them all arrested. Arrested and executed."

Nan Ho swallowed. "But that would mean . . ."

"War? Possibly. But this . . ." He took the paper back from his Chancellor. "No, Master Nan. I cannot have this."

There was a knock. Li Yuan raised an eyebrow. "Enter!"

A messenger bowed his way into the room, then, kneeling, offered a sealed letter to the T'ang's secretary, who unfurled it, read it, then brought it across.

Li Yuan took it and read it, then turned in his seat, calling for the screen to be lowered.

"Watch," Li Yuan said, then, speaking to the air. "Show me the latest scenes from Weimar."

At once the screen showed a picture of the great House. Drawing back, it' focused on a group of men outside the entrance gate. Media remote^ hovered about their heads like bugs as one of them, recognizable as the Leader of the House, Representative Kavanagh, was speaking.

". . . yet such an unprecedented statement by the New Confucian hierarchy can only be read as a recognition by those within the T'ang's government-those who know him best, let it be said-that things have reached such a pass that only the most extreme action can remedy the situation. It is therefore with great reluctance, but with a sense of duty, that we have taken a vote on the issue and offer the full support of this House to the Pa shi yi. Further, we urge the citizens of City Europe to reject the rule of the despot Li Yuan and accept Li Min as Son of Heaven and the new T'ang."

There was a gasp from all those in the room. Nan Ho turned, expecting to find his own shock mirrored on his Master's face, but Li Yuan was smiling.

"Chieh Hsia?" he said, astonished that at this moment the T'ang should be amused. "Are you all right?"

"Never better, Master Nan." He stood then came around his desk, stopping before the image of House Leader Kavanagh.

"Arrest them," he said, the confidence in his voice surprising them all. "All of them, and then burn the House. We must teach these hsiao jen a lesson, neh, Master Nan?"

"Chieh Hsia?"

Li Yuan turned to face him, the smile slowly fading from his face until, in its hawklike seriousness, it resembled his father, Li Shai Tung's.

"You heard me, Master Nan. Arrest them. Triad members, New Confucians, Representatives, and all.

All who oppose me. It has begun," he said, his voice a strange mixture of fear and relief. "The gods help us, Master Nan, it has finally begun."

AT THE CLIFF'S EDGE stood a ruined chapel, its roof open to the sky, the doorway empty, gaping. Itwas a tiny building, the floor inside cracked and overgrown with weeds, one of the side walls collapsed, the heavy stones spilled out across the grass.

Kim stopped beside her, looking up at the lettering cut into the stone lintel.

"It's Latin," he said. "From the Revelation to John."

Jelka looked to him, surprised, as he began to read.

"I saw an angel standing in the sun, and with a loud voice he cried to all the birds that fly in middle heaven, 'Come, gather for the great supper of God . .

He turned to her, finishing the quote. " '. . . to eat the flesh of kings, of all men, both free and slave, great and small.' "

He smiled, then looked about him. "Is this it? Is this your special place?"

"No." She looked out at the sea beyond the ruin, then walked on.

It was an old path worn by many feet. Near the bottom, where the way grew steep, steps had been cut into the rock. She picked her way nimbly between the rocks and out beneath the overhang. Kim followed. There, on the far side of the shelf of rock, was the cave.

She turned and smiled at him. "This is it. My special place. The place of voices."

He went halfway across the ledge, then stopped, crouching, looking down through the crack in the great gray slab. There, below him, the incoming tide was channeled into a fissure in the rock. For a moment he watched the rush and foam of the water through the narrow channel, then he looked up. She was watching him, amused.

"Can't you hear it, Kim? It's talking to you."

"Yes," he said. "I hear it."

He stood, wiping his hands against his thighs, then went across and stood there at the edge of the rock, looking out across the rutted surface of the sea, feeling the wind like a hand on his face, the tang of salt on his lips.

"Here," she said, drawing his attention again.

There, on the wall behind her, were the ancient letters, a hand's length in height, scored into the rock and dyed a burnt ochre against the pale cream of the rock. Their sticklike, angular shapes brought to mind the shape of yarrow stalks. He frowned, recognizing them as runes-as a name. Tolonen. And yet they were-what?-fifteen hundred years old?

He shuddered, then narrowed his eyes, watching as she stooped, making her way farther in, toward where the ceiling sloped down to meet the floor of the cave.

"It was just here that I saw the fox," she said, turning, her blue eyes staring out at him from the half dark.

"Later I dreamed of it and thought of you."

A fox. He nodded, then went in, taking her hand.

"So wild it was," she said, kneeling, then pulling him down beside her. "Erkki wanted to shoot it but I wouldn't let him."He stared at her, bewitched, the dark scent of the place awaking something in him.

A fox ...

He drew her face to his and kissed her, a savage, fox's kiss, then pushed her down, the brightness slipping from him.

BACK IN THE HOUSE, he walked about the rooms, disturbed by what had happened; wondering just what it said about himself. Yet Jelka seemed happy. He could hear her in the kitchens, singing to herself, her laughter strange and unexpected. He had thought her so cold and regal.

At the door to the study he stopped and lifted his head, sniffing the air, then stepped inside, his eyes widening at the sight of so many books.

"Books!" he said, carrying one out to her. "Real books!"

"Kalevala," she said, taking it from him. "My uncle lent me this. It was the first real book I ever read.

Here . . ." She handed it back to him. "You must read it. My people . . ."

"Your people . . ." He looked at her sadly. "You should contact him, you know. Let him know that you're safe. He'll be worrying."

"Let him worry!" she said. "He deserves it. But aren't you angry with him?"

"Angry?" he laughed, then, putting the books down, took her hands. "How could I be angry? Without him there would be no you. For that . . . well, I forgive him everything."

He smiled, trying to coax her to his viewpoint, but he could see she was not to be brought around. Not yet, anyway.

"Let me help," he said, looking past her at the pans on the old-fashioned stove. "I like to cook for myself."

In answer she beat his hand away. "That was when you were on your own. Now . . . well, now you're mine. If it worries you, we'll take turns. But tonight-tonight I want to cook for you. Please . . . I've dreamed of it."

He smiled. "You dream a great deal, Jelka Tolonen."

"Yes . . ." Her eyes grew serious. "I dreamed that you would come for me and save me from the World of Levels. I dreamed-" She stopped, a sudden fear growing in her face. "Something's .happened," she said. "Something ..."

She moved past him, heading for the great living room. ]He followed, intrigued by the change in her, by the sudden intuitive leap she'd made. As she crouched before the big screen, trying to tune it in, he looked about him, surprised, constantly surprised to find himself there on the island, in this strangest of houses. Had she dreamed this? And was he, even now, trapped within her dream-of no more substance than Caliban's dream?

"Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices, that, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, the clouds me-thought would open, and show riches ready to drop upon me; that, when I wak'd, I cried to dream again."

She turned, looking at him, even as the screen came to life behind her."What is that? It sounds . . . familiar somehow."

"Just words," he said. "Something that no longer exists, except in the mind of a Machine."

"Words?" But already her attention was being drawn by what was on the screen. There, framed by thick black smoke, was the House at Weimar, its great windows smashed, its levels licked by flames. Long lines of shackled men were being led away by visored guards. Then the image changed, to scenes of rioting and ruin, of screaming men and crying women.

"What's happening?" he said, stepping up beside her, then crouching, taking her hand. "What in the gods'

name is happening?"

"It has begun," she said, a tremor passing through her. "The gods help us all. The War's begun."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The Rider through the Autumn Wind.

Y.

O u MUST TALK to him, Chieh Hsia. You simply must."

"Must, Master Nan?" Li Yuan turned from the great map, stonyfaced, to confront his Chief Minister.

"Will you tell me also who I must sleep with?"

Nan Ho lowered his head, chastened. All around the War Room others-more than forty in all-did the same, recognizing that tone in the T'ang's voice. At such times he was at his most dangerous-or so it had proved, these past five days.

Nan Ho glanced at his Master from beneath his lashes. Five days . . . was that all it had been since war had been declared? A mere five days?

"They say he is dying, Chieh Hsia," he said quietly, risking his Master's wrath; knowing he would never forgive himself unless he attempted some kind of reconciliation.

"Dying?" Li Yuan turned, surprised. "I ... I had not heard that. I thought-"

"Poisoned, Chieh Hsia. Or so I am told. It is ... well, difficult to know the truth. Our usual channels are not as reliable as they were."