Free Daylight on Iron Mountain by David Wingrove

again, turning and sweeping off towards the south, climbing steeply as it went.
    In the silence that followed, Shepherd studied his guest.
    ‘You want to know, don’t you?’
    ‘Do I?’
    ‘Yes. You want to know why Tsao Ch’un chose you. I mean… it isn’t obvious.’
    Jiang hesitated, then, ‘No. It isn’t.’
    ‘It’s very simple. He chose
you
because to put any other man in charge of the venture would have been to set up a rival – Mark Antony to Caesar – and Tsao Ch’un could never countenance that.’ Amos paused. ‘It is not so much your qualities, Jiang Lei, as your lack of ambition that makes you his ideal choice.’
    ‘Thirty Banners, and every last man loyal to me, their commander.’
    ‘Exactly. So you and I are honoured. Alongside Chao Ni Tsu.’
    Jiang Lei frowned. ‘In what way?’
    ‘In that we are the only
three
men on the planet whom Tsao Ch’un trusts. The rest…’
    Amos laughed. A rich, deep laughter that made Jiang smile.
    ‘But come… let me show you around. Unless you’d like to rest after your journey?’
    Jiang Lei shook his head. ‘No… please… I’d love to see. I’ve heard so much about this place…’
    For the briefest moment Amos seemed to freeze, or at least to let some minuscule shard of doubt enter his eyes. Only as soon as it appeared it was gone, and he was exactly as before, charming, welcoming. The perfect host.
    ‘Come, then,’ he said. ‘While the sun is overhead.’
    ‘What’s the painting going to be about?’
    Amos smiled. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen it yet.’
    ‘And you
have
to see it… before you can paint it?’
    ‘It comes in flashes. They all do. I understand it later. But while it’s happening…’
    Jiang Lei looked from the canvas to the man and back again. ‘While it’s happening… ?’
    ‘I can’t tell you. It’s not something I can articulate. It’s just something that happens.’
    ‘And you trust it?’
    ‘Yes.’
    There was nothing as yet. Or as good as. Just a black horizontal line. Which could have been anything. Only he saw how Amos stared at the canvas, intently, like he was conjuring visions from the air. He had been warned about it, warned about the intensity of the man. Schizophrenic, some said, yet he seemed perfectly normal. Most of the time.
    They had finished their tour an hour back, and in all that time he had seen no one except Amos. Was he genuinely alone here?
    The solitary madman.
    ‘Amos?’
    ‘Yes, Nai Liu?’
    That use of his pen name made Jiang take a mental step back. Shepherd, it was said, did nothing whimsically. So what did he mean by using it? Did he mean to suggest some kind of bond between them – that they were both artists and therefore brothers in some fashion?
    Jiang asked his question.
    ‘How did you come to know Tsao Ch’un? I mean, you two… it seems the most unlikely alliance.’
    Amos smiled. ‘And so it is.’
    ‘I tried to look it up, but…’
    ‘There’s nothing there. I know. That’s because it’s all been erased. At the Ministry’s insistence. But come… let’s go inside. We can have a glass of wine, and I’ll tell you everything.’
    Jiang Lei sat on the bed, looking about him. He had been given a small room beneath the eaves at the very top of the house, and from the small, scuttling noises he could hear, he was not alone in inhabiting it.
    There wasn’t room for much – a small chest of drawers, a chair and the single bed on which he sat, tucked in beneath the tiny dormer window. On the chest of drawers was a wash jug in a bowl. Behind it, propped up against the wall, a large oval mirror stood, the backing silver blackened in places so that small holes seemed to be punched into the returning image of Jiang’s face. The rafters were exposed and the bare walls of the room had been whitewashed, but some years ago now, for it was flaking in places.
    The room had a damp, woody smell, added to which was a sharp, underlying scent he could not