The White Mountain by David Wingrove Read Free Book Online Page B

wouldn’t let him.’
    â€˜So what do you think?’
    Karr shook his head. ‘We don’t know enough, that’s clear. Who, beside ourselves, would want DeVore dead?’
    â€˜Someone he’s crossed?’
    Karr laughed. ‘Yes. But that could be anyone, neh? Anyone at all.’
    Li Yuan looked out across the marbled expanse of the Hall of the Seven Ancestors and nodded to himself, satisfied. The space between the dragon pillars was packed. More than two thousand men – all the adult males of the Twenty-Nine – were gathered here this afternoon. All, that was, but those who had already succumbed to the sickness.
    He sat there on the High Throne, dressed in the dragon robe of imperial yellow edged with blue. In one hand he held the Special Edict, in the other the bamboo cane with the silver cap that had been his brother’s present to his father.
    There was the faintest murmur from below, but when he stood the hallfell silent, followed a moment later by a loud rustling of expensive silks as, in a single movement, the great crowd knelt, touching their heads to the floor three times in the ritual liu k’ou . Li Yuan smiled bleakly, remembering another day, nine years ago, the day when his father had summoned the leaders of the Dispersionists before him, here in this very hall, and humbled them, making their leader, Lehmann, give up his friend, Wyatt. Much had changed since then, but once again the will of the T’ang had to be imposed. By agreement it was hoped, but by force if necessary.
    Li Yuan came down, stopping three steps from the bottom, facing the five elderly men who stood at the front of the crowd. His Chancellor, Nan Ho, stood to the right, the list scrolled tightly in one hand. Behind him, just beyond the nearest of the dragon pillars, a troop of élite guards waited, their shaven heads bowed low.
    He looked past the five Family heads at the great press of men behind them. All had their heads lowered, their eyes averted, acknowledging his supremacy. Right now they were obedient, but would they remain so when they knew his purpose? Would they understand the need for this, or would they defy him? He shivered, then looked back at the five who stood closest.
    He saw how the hands of nephews and cousins reached from behind Chun Wu-chi, supporting him, keeping him from falling; saw how frail his once-father-in-law, Yin Tsu, had become; how the first signs of senility had crept into the eighty-three-year-old face of Pei Ro-hen. Only An Sheng and Hsiang Shao-erh, both men in their fifties, seemed robust. Even so, the Minor Families had thrived – a dozen, fifteen sons not uncommon amongst them – while the Seven had diminished. Why was that? he wondered for the first time. Was it merely the pressures of rule, the depredations of war and politics, or was it symptomatic of some much deeper malaise?
    There was silence in the hall, but behind it he could feel the invisible pressure of their expectations. Many of them had heard rumours of the sickness; even so, most were wondering why he had summoned them. Why, in this unprecedented manner, they were standing here in the Great Hall at Tongjiang, waiting for him to speak.
    Well, now they would know. He would put paid to all speculation.
    â€˜Ch’un tzu!’ he began, his voice resonant, powerful. ‘I have summoned you here today because we face a crisis – perhaps the greatest crisis the Families have ever faced.’
    Li Yuan looked across the sea of lowered heads, aware of the power he exercised over these men, but conscious also of what that power rested upon. They obeyed him because they had agreed among themselves to obey him. Take away that agreement – that mandate – and what followed?
    He took a breath then continued.
    â€˜More than fifty of our number are dead. Another three hundred, I am told, are sick or close to death. And the cause of this mysterious illness? Something we thought we