Free Wingrove, David - Chung Kuo 02 by The Broken Wheel (v3.1)[htm] Page B

the spirit
seemed unchanged.
    Across from him,
seated to the right of the ceremonial kang , was Tsu Ma, T'ang
of West Asia. He sat back in his chair, a long, pencil-thin cheroot
held absently in one hand. He was known to his acquaintances as "the
Horse," and the name suited him. He was a stallion, a
thoroughbred in his late thirties, broad-chested and heavily muscled,
his dark hair curled in elegant long pigtails, braided with silver
and pearls. His enemies still considered him a dandy, but they were
wrong. He was a capable, intelligent man for all his outward style;
and since his father's death he had shown himself to be a fine
administrator, a credit to the Council of the Seven.
    The third and
last man in the anteroom was Hal Shepherd. He sat to Tsu Ma's right,
a stack of pillows holding him upright in his chair, his face drawn
and pale from illness. He had been sick for two weeks now, the cause
as yet undiagnosed. His eyes, normally so bright and full of life,
now seemed to protrude from their sockets as if staring out from some
deep inner darkness. Beside him, her head bowed, her whole manner
demure, stood a young Han nurse from the T'ang's household, there to
do the sick man's least bidding.
    Ebert bowed,
crossed to the T'ang, and stood there, the tray held out before him.
Li Shai Tung took his drink without pausing from what he was saying,
seeming not to notice the young Major as he moved across to offer Tsu
Ma his glass.
    "But the
question is still what we should do with the Companies. Should we
close them down completely? Wind them up and distribute their assets
among our friends? Should we allow bids for them? Offer them on the
Index as if we were floating them? Or should we run them ourselves,
appointing stewards to do our bidding until we feel things have
improved?"
    Tsu Ma took his
peach brandy, giving Ebert a brief smile, then turned back to face
his fellow T'ang.
    "You know
my feelings on the matter, Shai Tung. Things are still uncertain. We
have given our friends considerable rewards already. To break up the
118 companies and offer them as spoils to them might cause resentment
among those not party to the share-out. It would simply create a new
generation of malcontents. No. My vote will be to appoint stewards.
To run the companies for ten, maybe fifteen years, and then offer
them on the market to the highest bidder. That way we prevent
resentment and at the same time, through keeping a tight rein on what
is, after all, nearly a fifth of the market, help consolidate the
Edict of Technological Control."
    Ebert, holding
the tray out before Hal Shepherd, tried to feign indifference to the
matter being discussed; but as heir to GenSyn, the second largest
company on the Hang Seng Index, he felt crucially involved in the
question of the confiscated companies.
    "What is
this?"
    Ebert raised his
head and looked at Shepherd. "It is Yang Sen's Spring Wine
Tonic, Shih Shepherd. Li Shai Tung asked me to bring you a
glass of it. It has good restorative powers."
    Shepherd sniffed
at the glass, then looked past Ebert at the old T'ang. "This
smells rich, Shai Tung. What's in it?"
    "Brandy, kao liang, vodka, honey, gingseng, japonica seeds, oh, and
many more things that are good for you, Hal."
    "Such as?"
    Tsu Ma laughed
and turned in his seat to look at Shepherd. "Such as red-spotted
lizard and sea-horse and dried human placenta. All terribly good for
you, my friend."
    Shepherd looked
at Tsu Ma a moment, then looked back at Li Shai Tung. "Is that
true, Shai Tung?"
    The old T'ang
nodded. "It's true. Why, does it put you off, Hal?"
    Shepherd
laughed, the laugh lines etched deep now in his pallid face. "Not
at all." He tipped the glass back and drank heavily, then
shuddered and handed the half-empty glass to the nurse.
    Tsu Ma gave a
laugh of surprise. "One should sip Yang Sen's, friend Hal. It's
strong stuff. Matured for eighteen months before it's even fit to
drink. And this is Shai Tung's best. A twelve-year brew."
    "Yes . .