Something I’ve been working on.’
Shepherd turned his head slightly and studied his son a moment. ‘You seemed quite confident. As if the thing existed.’
Ben smiled. ‘It does. Up here.’
Shepherd laughed and looked down, tugging at the long grass. ‘So what is it? I’m interested. And I think the T’ang was interested, too.’
‘What did he want?’
A faint breeze ruffled the water, making the moon dance exaggeratedly on the darkness. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Why was I there?’
Shepherd smiled to himself. He should have known better than to think Ben would not ask that question.
‘Because he wanted to see you, Ben. Because he thinks that one day you might help his son.’
‘I see. And he was assessing me?’
‘You might put it that way.’
Ben laughed. ‘I thought as much. Do you think he found me strange?’
‘Why should you think that?’
Ben looked directly at his father. ‘I know what I am. I’ve seen enough of the world to know how different I am.’
‘On a screen, yes. But not everything’s up there on the screen, Ben.’
‘No?’ Ben looked back up the slope towards the cottage. They were hauling the first of the thin, encasing layers over the top of the frame, the heavily suited men pulling on the guide ropes. ‘What don’t they show?’
Hal laughed, but let the query pass. Ben was right. He did know what he was, and he was different. There was no point in denying that.
‘You’ve no need to follow in my footsteps.’
Ben smiled but didn’t look at him. ‘You think I’d want that?’
Shepherd felt a twinge of bitterness, then shook his head. ‘No, I guess not. In any case, I’d never force that on you. You know that, don’t you?’
Ben turned and stared out across the water fixedly. ‘Those things don’t interest me. The political specifics. The who-runs-what and who-did-what. I would be bored by it all. And what good is a bored advisor? I’d need to care about those things, and I don’t.’
‘You seemed to care. Earlier, when we were talking about them.’
‘That was something different. That was the deeper thing.’
Shepherd laughed. ‘Of course. The deeper thing.’
Ben looked back at him. ‘You deal in surfaces, father, both of you. But the problem’s deeper than that. It’s inside. Beneath the surface of the skin. It’s bred in the blood and bone of men, in the complex web of nerve and muscle and organic tissue. But you… Well, you persist in dealing with only what you see. You treat the blemished skin and let the inner man corrupt.’
Shepherd was watching his son thoughtfully, aware of the gulf that had grown between them these last few years. It was as if Ben had outgrown them all. Had done with childish things. He shrugged. ‘Maybe. But that doesn’t solve the immediate problem. Those surfaces you dismiss so readily have hard edges. Collide with them and you’ll realize that at once. People get hurt, lives get blighted, and those aren’t superficial things.’
‘It wasn’t what I meant.’
‘No. Maybe not. And maybe you’re right. You’d make a lousy advisor, Ben. You’ve been made for other things than politics and intrigue.’
He stood, wiping his hands against his trousers. ‘You know, there were many things I wanted to do, but I never had the time for them. Pictures I wanted to paint, books I wanted to write, music I wanted to compose. But in serving the T’ang I’ve had to sacrifice all those and much else besides. I’ve seen much less of you and Meg than I ought – and far, far too little of your mother. So…’ He shrugged. ‘If you don’t want that kind of life, I understand. I understand only too well. More than that, Ben, I think the world would lose something were you to neglect the gifts you have.’
Ben smiled. ‘We’ll see.’ Then he pointed up the slope. ‘I think they’ve almost finished. That’s the third of the isolation skins.’
Shepherd turned and looked back up the slope. The cottage was
Shepherd turned his head slightly and studied his son a moment. ‘You seemed quite confident. As if the thing existed.’
Ben smiled. ‘It does. Up here.’
Shepherd laughed and looked down, tugging at the long grass. ‘So what is it? I’m interested. And I think the T’ang was interested, too.’
‘What did he want?’
A faint breeze ruffled the water, making the moon dance exaggeratedly on the darkness. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Why was I there?’
Shepherd smiled to himself. He should have known better than to think Ben would not ask that question.
‘Because he wanted to see you, Ben. Because he thinks that one day you might help his son.’
‘I see. And he was assessing me?’
‘You might put it that way.’
Ben laughed. ‘I thought as much. Do you think he found me strange?’
‘Why should you think that?’
Ben looked directly at his father. ‘I know what I am. I’ve seen enough of the world to know how different I am.’
‘On a screen, yes. But not everything’s up there on the screen, Ben.’
‘No?’ Ben looked back up the slope towards the cottage. They were hauling the first of the thin, encasing layers over the top of the frame, the heavily suited men pulling on the guide ropes. ‘What don’t they show?’
Hal laughed, but let the query pass. Ben was right. He did know what he was, and he was different. There was no point in denying that.
‘You’ve no need to follow in my footsteps.’
Ben smiled but didn’t look at him. ‘You think I’d want that?’
Shepherd felt a twinge of bitterness, then shook his head. ‘No, I guess not. In any case, I’d never force that on you. You know that, don’t you?’
Ben turned and stared out across the water fixedly. ‘Those things don’t interest me. The political specifics. The who-runs-what and who-did-what. I would be bored by it all. And what good is a bored advisor? I’d need to care about those things, and I don’t.’
‘You seemed to care. Earlier, when we were talking about them.’
‘That was something different. That was the deeper thing.’
Shepherd laughed. ‘Of course. The deeper thing.’
Ben looked back at him. ‘You deal in surfaces, father, both of you. But the problem’s deeper than that. It’s inside. Beneath the surface of the skin. It’s bred in the blood and bone of men, in the complex web of nerve and muscle and organic tissue. But you… Well, you persist in dealing with only what you see. You treat the blemished skin and let the inner man corrupt.’
Shepherd was watching his son thoughtfully, aware of the gulf that had grown between them these last few years. It was as if Ben had outgrown them all. Had done with childish things. He shrugged. ‘Maybe. But that doesn’t solve the immediate problem. Those surfaces you dismiss so readily have hard edges. Collide with them and you’ll realize that at once. People get hurt, lives get blighted, and those aren’t superficial things.’
‘It wasn’t what I meant.’
‘No. Maybe not. And maybe you’re right. You’d make a lousy advisor, Ben. You’ve been made for other things than politics and intrigue.’
He stood, wiping his hands against his trousers. ‘You know, there were many things I wanted to do, but I never had the time for them. Pictures I wanted to paint, books I wanted to write, music I wanted to compose. But in serving the T’ang I’ve had to sacrifice all those and much else besides. I’ve seen much less of you and Meg than I ought – and far, far too little of your mother. So…’ He shrugged. ‘If you don’t want that kind of life, I understand. I understand only too well. More than that, Ben, I think the world would lose something were you to neglect the gifts you have.’
Ben smiled. ‘We’ll see.’ Then he pointed up the slope. ‘I think they’ve almost finished. That’s the third of the isolation skins.’
Shepherd turned and looked back up the slope. The cottage was
Similar Books
