Lin swallowed. His face had gone pale. "Pack up," he said, pointing to the cart. "We're going from here right now."

"But-"

He shook her. "Do what I say. Now! Understand me?"

"Lin . . . ?"

"Now!"

MACH PUSHED HIS WAY through the crowd until he came out by the Market Inspector's Cabin.

There was a queue by the window, but he ignored it. He went straight to the door and knocked loudly.

Two men, who'd been standing nearby, started to make their way across, but he turned and held up his pass. They stared a moment, then, satisfied, backed away.

As the door opened, he stepped through, pushing past the surprised Inspector who was getting up from the table.

"I want information," he said, showing the man his pass as he stared about the littered cabin. The man had been eating, and a half-empty bottle of Jung Shen wine rested on the table.

"Of course, Master . . . Harris," he finished, reading what was written on the fake pass. "What do you need to know?"

"Stall five three seven," he said. "Who is the woman who owns it?"

The Inspector laughed. "Forgive me, Master, but you must be mistaken. Stall Five Three Seven is owned by Lin the Mender. There is no woman-"

He stopped, silenced by Mach's look.

"Today there is a woman there. So who is she? And where does this Lin live?"

"I . . ." The man wiped his mouth then went across and, searching among his records, returned with the card for Stall. Mach studied it a moment, then pocketed it.

"But, Master-"

"I'll return it," Mach said brusquely. Then, without another word, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

"In here!" Lin said, thrusting the cart into a side room, then turning to grab her by the arm. "Quick, now!

Before he comes!"

Who is he? she wanted to ask. And what's going on? But the blind panic in his face, the very roughness of the way he pushed her into the room and slammed the door behind him, convinced her it was not the time to ask. Besides, his hand was clamped over her mouth. Outside she heard shouting, a curt demand-"Where are they? You ... did you see someone come down here?"-then booted feet running past the door.

Lin waited almost a minute, staring open mouthed at the door, barely daring to breathe. Then, slowly, he released the pressure on her mouth."Forgive me," he said, realizing suddenly what he'd been doing. "I . . ." He took a long, shuddering breath, then leaned toward her, whispering. "We are in great danger. That man"-he swallowed, the damaged side of his face twitching now-"I think he's trying to kill you."

Kill me? The shock of it rippled through her. She felt her legs go weak. "Why?" she asked, her voice tiny.

"I . . ." He stared at her, pained, remembering something-something he could not describe to her-then shook his head. "Believe me," he said. "I would never lie to you."

Who am I? she wanted to ask. Who in the gods' names am I? But she knew she had less chance of getting an answer from him than from the mirror.

"I have to go," he said. "There's a friend close by. He'll hide us until we can find somewhere else. We-"

"What's happening, Lin Shang?"

He tried to answer her-she could see how hard he tried to free the words-but the habit of the secret had become so strong, it was impossible. Again he shook his head.

"Stay here," he said, placing a hand on her own. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

And don't open the door unless you hear my knock. . . .

"And don't open the door unless you hear my knock. . . ."

She smiled, the familiar phrase reassuringly welcome. "I won't," she said. "Take care." And then he was gone and she was alone, wondering if she would ever see him again.

For a moment she leaned against the door, recovering her strength, then reached up to throw the catch. It was a small thing, barely enough to stop a child if he were determined enough, but she felt strangely better for it.

She turned, then, moving the cart aside, looked about her. It was a storeroom, and beyond . . .

She crossed the room and opened the door, stepping into what seemed like a family room. There was a bed and a low table, two mats, and, on the wall beside an inset screen, a picture of a family-a man, a woman, and two children. Han. She wondered where they were, what they were doing. Then, because she could not stop herself, she wondered why someone should want to kill her. Someone she didn't know.

The accident ... it had to do with the accident.

She stepped across and pressed the pad below the screen, some strange compulsion shaping the decision. For years now she had lived without it-could not remember a time, in fact, when there had been an active screen in a room she was in. Of all the things Lin had mended over the years, he had never touched a screen.

She watched as the image formed. There was a hall, a massive hall with pillars and balconies, and a host of men in white flowing robes trimmed with red, their heads shaven. On a platform high above it all was another man-a "priest" she realized, wondering where that word had come from. As the crowd below fell silent he raised his hands and began to speak. And as he began to speak the camera moved in close upon his shining face."Pasek," she said, shuddering. "Karel Pasek." And with the words the walls holding back her memory cracked and fell.

"Aiya . . ." she moaned, staggering back, then fell to her knees, gulping for air, while above her, Pasek's face slowly grew until it filled the whole of the screen, his eyes staring out, cold and soulless from the godless depths in which he lived.

And in her frightened mind she saw his lips smile, then move to form her name, his voice uttering the words the mirror had refused to offer up.

"Emily . . . Emily Ascher ... So there you are."

AS THE ACOLYTES queued patiently to climb the golden steps and kiss the Sacred Master's foot, Lehmann, seated in a balcony overlooking the scene, gestured to Soucek that he should come across.

"How much longer?" he said quietly to his lieutenant's ear, as the latest of the Blessed Thousand lingered above the sacred foot with a look of drugged-induced bliss.

"Oh, there are hundreds of the bastards yet!" Soucek said, his tone almost as acidic as his Master's. "I've heard of paying lip service, but this is ridiculous!"

"He takes too much upon himself," Lehmann answered coldly, speaking from the side of his mouth. "The man has ambitions above his station. One day he'll go too far."

"And then?"

Lehmann looked at his lieutenant; a look Soucek understood without needing to be told.

Right now Pasek was useful. He was a focus for the disaffection in their City. Religion-now, that was something the Han had never understood. But harness it, as the great Hung Hsiu-ch'uan had once harnessed it in the time of the Taiping, and one could destroy empires. Or build them. But religion was a two-edged sword, and its leaders invariably came to see themselves as gods.

But Lehmann had little time for gods, only for men he could use.

Soucek smiled, then stiffened, seeing movement in the shadows behind his Master. Drawing his knife, he stepped between Lehmann and the door, prepared to strike.

"Jiri . . ."

Soucek let his breath hiss from him, then sheathed his knife. It was Mach. He turned, noting how Lehmann was watching them, his own pearl-handled knife resting in his lap.

"What is it?" Lehmann asked softly, conscious of the ceremony continuing behind him.

In answer Mach stepped past Soucek and handed Lehmann a slip of paper: a copy of a poster that had been circulating the levels in its thousands recently. On it was a photo of a dark-haired woman and a figure-a reward of half a million yuan.

"So?" Lehmann asked, meeting Mach's eyes again.

"So I've found her," Mach answered, smiling. "I've found Emily Ascher."

"Found her? Then where is she?""Nearby. I ... I've tracked her to one of the local stacks."

"And you want my help to flush her out?"

Mach nodded.

"And when you get her?" Lehmann's eyes studied his old ally closely. "You fancy that reward?"

Mach laughed. "No, Stefan. I thought you'd like her. These posters . . . her old husband, Michael Lever is behind them. And Lever's a powerful man these days in Li Yuan's Enclave. I thought . . ."

Lehmann nodded. "You did well to come to me, Jan. A lesser man might have thought of the money. But you-you always were ambitious, weren't you?"

Mach shrugged, but all three of them knew the truth. Since Pasek had been taken up by Lehmann, Mach's own organizations had been under pressure. Pasek's Black Hand had all but destroyed the Yu.

But if Lehmann gave his support, Mach could again be powerful.

"You could be useful, Jan," Lehmann said, turning to watch Pasek once more. "Our friend the Priest is getting rather high and mighty, wouldn't you say?"

He turned, letting his eyes say what he meant.

"Power's a delicate thing," Mach answered. "To rule, one needs to use checks and balances."

Lehmann nodded. "You understand, then?"

"And the woman, Ascher?"

"Take Jiri here. He'll help you flush her out. Oh, and Jan . . ."

"Yes, Stefan?"

"You've no ... beliefs, have you?"

"Who, me?" Mach laughed, then shook his head, scowling. "Why, if I met God Himself I'd spit in his eye before I'd bow my head to him!"

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Puppet Dance.

LI YUAN came down the dragon steps and stood over Karr, one hand gripping his imperial yellow silks, the other pointed accusingly at his kneeling General. Nearby his full Court had been drawn up for the audience, and his wife, his Chancellor, and several other senior Ministers and Advisors stood watching as, his face dark with anger, he bawled Karr out.

"Odessa! How could you lose Odessa? Don't you understand how vital Odessa fortress was? And now it's his. His.

1.

Why, he has only to strike north to Kharkov and we are undone. I shall be trapped between his forces and the West Asian warlords. And what then?"

Then we must strengthen Kharkov, Karr thought. But he said nothing. He kept his head bowed, his face an expressionless mask, accepting his Master's blame, letting the young T'ang's anger wash over himlike the tide.

"And Chang! Where is Minister Chang? You promised me him, General Karr! But he's slipped the net.

You were watching him, neh?"

"I was, Chieh Hsia."

"So what happened?"

"I do not know, Chieh Hsia. Much else was happening. The copies-"

Li Yuan waved the excuse away. "I gave that job to Ward. You, General, should have been concentrating on more important matters! I mean, what in the gods' name were you doing, losing Odessa! Surely you could see his purpose?"

Not until too late, Karr answered in his head, and I defy any other man to say different. But he kept the thought to himself once more, merely dipping his head a fraction lower, as if accepting the criticism at face value.

Rheinhardt, he thought. Rheinhardt is behind this. He never forgave me for taking his job. And now he's whispering his poison in the Tang's ear, setting him against me.

He swallowed, gripped by a sudden bitterness at the thanklessness of his task. After all I've done . . . to be treated thus.

Li Yuan was still shouting at him, blaming him, returning time and again to his stupidity at losing Odessa.

It was a brilliant move, he thought, feeling a strange respect for his adversary. Like a cutting move in a game of wei ch'i, it had changed the shapes on the board at a stroke. Li Yuan had always been on the defensive against a stronger player, but now things had entered a new and critical phase. Now the endgame was about to begin.

As Li Yuan went back up the steps, returning to his throne, Karr realized he had been dismissed. For the last minute or so he had been detached from it all, the T'ang's harsh words troubling him no more than a baby's babble. But now he had to stand and make his way from there, and that proved hard. As he stood he kept his head lowered, properly reverential, then, bowed at the waist, he began to back away, feeling a warmth at his neck that was as rare as it was unexpected. Never, before now, had he felt ashamed. Never, even when he'd lived beneath the Net, had he let another man do this to him.

Between the watching ranks of Courtiers and Ministers he went, head bowed, back beneath the great arch of the entrance, watching the great doors close slowly upon the scowling T'ang, perched atop his Presence Throne.

As the doors slammed shut Karr let a breath escape him, then turned, straightening up, making a tiny movement as if shaking off some dark and evil spell. He looked about him, noting how his men could no longer look at him; how their eyes slid away, embarrassed to see their General so belittled.

"Come!" he said curtly, gesturing for them to follow, then began to march at a pace toward the Eastern Gate and the hangars beyond.