Shepherd – knew how he really felt about the matter,
only
that he had refused to see Tolonen since that day; that he had exiled him immediately
and appointed a new General, Vittorio Nocenzi, in his place.
Shepherd waited, conscious of how tense Li Shai Tung had suddenly become. Tolonen
had been of the same generation as the T’ang and they shared the same unspoken values.
In their personal
lives there had been parallels that had drawn them close and formed a bond between
them; not least the loss of both their wives some ten years back. In temperament,
however, they were ice and
fire.
‘I miss him. Do you understand that, Hal? I really miss the old devil. First and foremost
for himself. For all that he was. Loyal. Honest. Brave.’ He looked up briefly, then
looked
down again, his eyes misting. ‘I felt he was my champion, Hal. Always there at my
side. From my eighteenth year. My General. My most trusted man.’
He shuddered and was silent for a while. Then he began again, his voice softer, yet
somehow stronger, more definite than before.
‘Strangely I miss his rashness most of all. He was like Han Ch’in in that. What he
said was always what part of me felt. Now I feel almost that that part of me is missing
– is
unexpressed, festering in the darkness.’
‘You want him back?’
Li Shai Tung laughed bitterly. As if I could. No, Hal, but I want to see him. I need
to speak to him.’
Shepherd was silent for a time, considering, then he leaned forward and set his glass
down on the table at his side. ‘You should call him back, Shai Tung. For once damn
the House and its
demands. Defy them. You are T’ang, and thus above their laws.’
Li Shai Tung looked up and met Shepherd’s eyes. ‘I am T’ang, yes, but I am also Seven.
I could not act so selfishly.’
‘Why not?’
The T’ang laughed, surprised. ‘This is unlike you, Hal. For more than twenty years
you have advised me to be cautious, to consider the full implications of my actions,
but now,
suddenly, you counsel me to rashness.’
Shepherd smiled. ‘Not rashness, Shai Tung. Far from it. In fact, I’ve thought of little
else this past year.’ He got up and went across to a bureau in the corner furthest
from
the fire, returning a moment later with a folder which he handed to the T’ang.
‘What is this, Hal?’
Shepherd smiled, then sat again. ‘My thoughts on things.’
Li Shai Tung stared thoughtfully at Shepherd a moment, then set his glass down and
opened the folder.
‘But this is handwritten.’
Shepherd nodded. ‘It’s the only copy. I’ve said things in there that I’d rather not
have fall into the hands of our enemies.’
He looked briefly at his son as he said the last few words, conscious that the boy
was watching everything.
Li Shai Tung looked up at him, his face suddenly hawk-like, his eyes fiercer than
before. ‘Why did you not mention this before?’
‘It was not my place. In any case, it was not ready before now.’
The T’ang looked back down at the folder and at the summary Shepherd had appended
to the front of his report. This was more than a simple distillation of the man’s
thoughts on the
current political situation. Here, in its every detail, was the plan for that ‘War
of Levels’ Shepherd had mentioned earlier. A scheme which would, if implemented, bring
the Seven into
direct confrontation with the House.
Li Shai Tung flicked through the pages of the report quickly, skimming, picking out
phrases that Shepherd had highlighted or underlined, his pulse quickening as he read.
Shepherd’s tiny,
neat handwriting filled almost forty pages, but the meat of it was there, in that
opening summary. He read once more what Shepherd had written.
Power is defined only through the exercise of power. For too long now we have refrained
from openly exercising our power and that restraint has been taken for weakness by
our enemies.
only
that he had refused to see Tolonen since that day; that he had exiled him immediately
and appointed a new General, Vittorio Nocenzi, in his place.
Shepherd waited, conscious of how tense Li Shai Tung had suddenly become. Tolonen
had been of the same generation as the T’ang and they shared the same unspoken values.
In their personal
lives there had been parallels that had drawn them close and formed a bond between
them; not least the loss of both their wives some ten years back. In temperament,
however, they were ice and
fire.
‘I miss him. Do you understand that, Hal? I really miss the old devil. First and foremost
for himself. For all that he was. Loyal. Honest. Brave.’ He looked up briefly, then
looked
down again, his eyes misting. ‘I felt he was my champion, Hal. Always there at my
side. From my eighteenth year. My General. My most trusted man.’
He shuddered and was silent for a while. Then he began again, his voice softer, yet
somehow stronger, more definite than before.
‘Strangely I miss his rashness most of all. He was like Han Ch’in in that. What he
said was always what part of me felt. Now I feel almost that that part of me is missing
– is
unexpressed, festering in the darkness.’
‘You want him back?’
Li Shai Tung laughed bitterly. As if I could. No, Hal, but I want to see him. I need
to speak to him.’
Shepherd was silent for a time, considering, then he leaned forward and set his glass
down on the table at his side. ‘You should call him back, Shai Tung. For once damn
the House and its
demands. Defy them. You are T’ang, and thus above their laws.’
Li Shai Tung looked up and met Shepherd’s eyes. ‘I am T’ang, yes, but I am also Seven.
I could not act so selfishly.’
‘Why not?’
The T’ang laughed, surprised. ‘This is unlike you, Hal. For more than twenty years
you have advised me to be cautious, to consider the full implications of my actions,
but now,
suddenly, you counsel me to rashness.’
Shepherd smiled. ‘Not rashness, Shai Tung. Far from it. In fact, I’ve thought of little
else this past year.’ He got up and went across to a bureau in the corner furthest
from
the fire, returning a moment later with a folder which he handed to the T’ang.
‘What is this, Hal?’
Shepherd smiled, then sat again. ‘My thoughts on things.’
Li Shai Tung stared thoughtfully at Shepherd a moment, then set his glass down and
opened the folder.
‘But this is handwritten.’
Shepherd nodded. ‘It’s the only copy. I’ve said things in there that I’d rather not
have fall into the hands of our enemies.’
He looked briefly at his son as he said the last few words, conscious that the boy
was watching everything.
Li Shai Tung looked up at him, his face suddenly hawk-like, his eyes fiercer than
before. ‘Why did you not mention this before?’
‘It was not my place. In any case, it was not ready before now.’
The T’ang looked back down at the folder and at the summary Shepherd had appended
to the front of his report. This was more than a simple distillation of the man’s
thoughts on the
current political situation. Here, in its every detail, was the plan for that ‘War
of Levels’ Shepherd had mentioned earlier. A scheme which would, if implemented, bring
the Seven into
direct confrontation with the House.
Li Shai Tung flicked through the pages of the report quickly, skimming, picking out
phrases that Shepherd had highlighted or underlined, his pulse quickening as he read.
Shepherd’s tiny,
neat handwriting filled almost forty pages, but the meat of it was there, in that
opening summary. He read once more what Shepherd had written.
Power is defined only through the exercise of power. For too long now we have refrained
from openly exercising our power and that restraint has been taken for weakness by
our enemies.
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