The White Mountain by David Wingrove

his head slightly.
    â€˜In the open,’ said Tsu Ma beneath his breath. ‘You’re like your father, Yuan. Devious.’
    Li Yuan turned, surprised, then laughed, seeing the humour beneath the surface of Tsu Ma’s words. ‘Words are words, Tsu Ma. We must bend and shape them to our needs.’
    Tsu Ma nodded, pleased with that. ‘So it is in these troubled times, cousin. But history shall judge us by our actions.’
    Wang Sau-leyan was leaning forward in his seat, his hands folded in his lap, his big, moon face looking from one to another as he spoke. He seemed calm, relaxed, his voice soft and deep, persuasive in its tones. Thus far he had said little that had not been said before, but now he turned the conversation.
    â€˜In this room, as in the rooms of the Twenty-Nine and the mansions of the Supernal, there are those who are questioning recent events. Some with anger, some with sadness and misgivings. Others fearfully, remembering things not long past. But every last one of them is concerned, wondering where it will stop. For myself, I believe it has already gone too far.’
    Wu Shih made to interrupt, but Wang raised his hand. ‘You will haveyour say, Wu Shih, and I shall listen. But first hear me out. This must be said, before it is too late for words.’
    Tsu Ma reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a slender silver case. ‘Then talk, cousin. Let us hear what you have to say.’
    There was an unconcealed hostility in the words that surprised Li Yuan. He watched Tsu Ma take a cheroot from the case then close it and slip it back into his pocket.
    â€˜Thank you, cousin,’ said Wang, watching the older man light the cheroot and draw the first breath from it. He smiled tightly, then let his face fall blank again. ‘As I said, there is anger and sadness and a great deal of fear. Unhealthy symptoms. Signs of a deep and bitter hostility towards us.’
    Wu Shih grunted indignantly, but kept his silence. His cheeks burned red and his eyes bored into the side of Wang’s softly rounded face.
    â€˜We have sown a harvest of discontent,’ Wang went on. ‘And I say we, because this affects us all. And yet I hesitate to use that plural, because it suggests consensus on our part. Suggests a commonly agreed-upon set of actions, discussed and debated here, in Council, as has always been our way.’ He paused and looked about him, shaking his head. ‘Instead I wake to find the world a different place from when I slept. And myself every bit as surprised as those who came begging audience, saying, “Why is my son arrested?”’
    In the chair beside him, Hou Tung-po nodded his head vigorously. ‘So it was for me. I was not notified, Li Yuan. Not consulted before you and Wu Shih acted. A poor choice was left to me, to seem a scoundrel or look a fool. Relations are bad between us and the Above. As bad as at any time during the last ten years. We must act to defuse this situation before it gets out of hand. We must make some gesture to placate the Above.’
    There was a moment’s silence, then Li Yuan spoke, his anger at Wang Sau-leyan’s criticism barely contained.
    â€˜When a man saves his brother’s life, does he say first, “Excuse me, brother, I would save your life, is that all right with you?” No, he acts, pushing his brother aside, out of the way of the falling rock. He acts! I make no apologies for my actions. Or for the lack of consultation. Surprise was a necessity. I could not risk informing anyone.’
    He stood, going to the centre of their informal circle, looking down at Wang Sau-leyan.
    â€˜Perhaps you relish death, cousin Wang. For myself I would grow old in peace, no dagger to my throat.’
    Wang laughed; a short, bitter laugh. ‘Oh, yes, Li Yuan, you act like one destined to live long. For while your enemies multiply, your friends diminish.’
    Li Yuan smiled back at him tightly.