The Art of War Read Free

the maids done something to upset you?’
    Wang Hsien glanced at his Master of the Inner Chamber almost without recognition, then shook his head irritably. ‘What is this?’ he said, pointing at the bowl.
    ‘It is your sleeping potion, Chieh Hsia. Lotus seeds mixed with your own life elixir. It should help you sleep.’
    Wang Hsien took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached out and took the bowl in one hand, sipping from it. The ho yeh was slightly bitter to the taste – a bitterness augmented by the salt tang of his own yang essence, his semen – but not unpleasant. He drained the bowl, then looked back at Sun Li Hua, holding out the empty bowl for him to take. ‘You will wake me at five, yes?’
    Sun Li Hua took the bowl and backed away, bowing again. ‘Of course, Chieh Hsia. ’
    He watched the old T’ang turn and slide his legs between the sheets, then lower his head on to the pillow, pulling the covers up about his shoulders. Two minutes , he thought; that’s all the good Doctor Yueh said it would take .
    Sun Li Hua moved back, beneath the camera, waiting in the doorway until he heard the old T’ang’s breathing change. Then, setting the bowl down, he took a key from inside his silks and reached up, opening a panel high up in the door’s frame. It popped back, revealing a tiny keyboard and a timer unit. Quickly he punched the combination. The timer froze, two amber lights appearing at the top of the panel.
    He counted to ten, then touched the EJECT panel. At once a thin, transparent card dropped into the tray beneath the keyboard. He slipped it into his pocket, then put its replacement into the slot at the side and punched SET.
    ‘Good,’ he said softly, closing the panel and slipping the key back inside his silks. Then, taking a pair of gloves from his pocket, he stepped back inside the bedchamber.
    Six floors below, at the far end of the palace, two soldiers were sitting in a cramped guardroom, talking.
    The younger of them, a lieutenant, turned momentarily from the bank of screens that filled the wall in front of him and looked across at his captain. ‘What do you think will happen, Otto? Will they close all the companies down?’
    Captain Fischer, Head of the T’ang’s personal security, looked up from behind his desk and smiled. ‘Your guess is as good as anyone’s, Wolf. But I’ll tell you this, whatever they do there’ll be trouble.’
    ‘You think so?’
    ‘Well, think about it. The volume of seized assets is so vast that if the Seven freeze them it’s certain to damage the market badly. However, if they redistribute all that wealth in the form of rewards there’s the problem of who gets what. A lot of people are going to be jealous or dissatisfied. On the other hand, they can’t just give it back. There has to be some kind of punishment.’
    The lieutenant turned back to his screens, scanning them conscientiously. ‘I agree. But where do they draw the line? How do they distinguish between those who were actively against them and those who were simply unhelpful?’
    Fischer shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Wolf. I really don’t.’
    They were discussing the most recent spate of Confiscations and Demotions, a subject never far from most people’s lips these days. In the past eighteen months more than one hundred and eighty thousand First Level families had been ‘sent down’ and all their material goods confiscated by the Seven as punishment for what had been termed ‘subversive activities’. A further five thousand families had simply vanished from the face of Chung Kuo – to the third generation as the law demanded – for active treason against the Seven. But now, with the War in its final stages and the clamour for peace growing daily, the Confiscations had become a delicate subject and a major bone of contention between those who wanted retribution and those who simply wanted to damp down the fires of resentment and bitterness that such retribution brought in its wake.
    The