The Grace of Kings (22 page)

So here he was in Na Thion, where the streets were paved with strips of sandalwood laid on a bed of crushed volcanic pumice, and the palace, built from the hard ironwood of Rima's mountains, seemed as foreign as a palace on the moon. On every street corner there seemed to be a shrine dedicated to one of Rima's ancient heroes, back when the name of Rima still inspired respect and fear on the battlefield.

“This is your ancestral home,” men who called themselves his ministers said. “We watched your father grow up here. We watched him cry before the Double-Tree Gate as the rest of your family was cut down by Xana soldiers for refusing to surrender. Oh, how straight were their backs as they looked at their executioners with equanimity!”

The ministers refrained from criticizing his father, the crown prince. He had been the only member of the royal family to kneel down to the Xana general and to offer up the Seal of Rima. He had then been exiled to the shores of the Zathin Gulf, in old Haan, where he became a fisherman and brought up his boy to be an ordinary man, a man with no concerns other than hauling in a good day's catch and settling down with a good woman.

But Jizu could tell that the bowing ministers wished, perhaps without themselves being clearly aware of it, that his father had followed the example of the rest of his family and allowed himself to be killed rather than submit to the Xana conquerors. In their eyes, his father was not the quiet, thoughtful man that Jizu had known all his life, a man who enjoyed grilling oysters on hot stones, a man who only ever drank dandelion tea flavored with a bit of crushed rock sugar, a man who was so gentle that he never raised his voice.

“There is far more happiness in a life that is your own,” his father had said to Jizu, “than a life in which you are handed the lines to say and shown the gestures to make. Do not ever be ambitious.” His father had always been reluctant to speak of his former life in the Palace of Na Thion, a reticence that lasted until his death from a lingering sickness caused by an injury from the poisonous spines of sea urchins.

But in the eyes of the ministers, his father was a mere symbol, a symbol of Rima's humiliation.

Jizu wanted to tell them that his father was a good man, a man who decided that enough blood had been shed, that being king was not as important as being alive, as waking up every morning to see the sun dappling the waves and the dyrans leaping across the bow of a fishing boat. He wanted to defend his father's honor against the contempt that he saw in their faces.

But he said nothing as he listened to his ministers recount the haughty words of his grandfather, the last King of Rima, as he defied the Xana conquerers.

Even when every last man of Rima has died, we will continue to fight you as spirits.

You have not seen the last of me. I will await you on the other side.

The story seemed to him the account of a family that lived only in fairy tales and shadow plays.

He did as his ministers directed him to do. Knowing nothing of the rituals of kingship, he gave himself up to be their puppet. He followed their orders and then parroted back what they told him to say, as if he were the one giving the orders.

But he was not stupid. He could tell that King Shilué had helped him reclaim the throne not simply out of the goodness of his heart. Rima was weak and dependent on Faça. It served as a buffer between the Imperial heartland in Géfica and Faça itself. Should the new Tiro states successfully overthrow the empire, there would be a new contest for dominance, and King Shilué would enjoy an advantage in such a contest if he could run things in Na Thion by pulling on invisible strings attached to Jizu. Were his ministers really
his
? Or did they also listen to orders coming out of Faça? He could not tell.

He imagined a giant pair of scissors cutting the strings away. But who could wield such scissors? Not him.

He prayed for guidance from Fithowéo, but the god's statue in the temple simply stared back at him, giving him no signs. He was on his own.

He did not like this new life, but he felt compelled to accept it. He wished he could return to his days as an oysterman in love with another oysterman's daughter, but his royal blood made that dream impossible.

Three thousand Imperial soldiers slipped through the woods of Rima like ghosts. Rima commanders, fearful or paid off by Xana spies, dismissed reports from their scouts and refused to leave their oaken-­walled fortresses to engage the invaders. Some soldiers, hardy woodsmen of Rima who believed that they were free of the emperor's cruelties forever, defied the treachery and cowardice of their commanders and fought on their own. They were cut down quickly by the Imperial army.

A week later, on a foggy, cold morning, the Imperial army emerged from the woods into the clearing around Na Thion and laid siege to the capital.

The defending soldiers soon exhausted their meager supply of arrows. Jizu's ministers ordered the houses of the common people disassembled so that shingles, beams, and broken pieces of building materials could be used as weapons to be hurled at the Xana soldiers trying to scale the walls. The people of Na Thion, their homes destroyed, slept in the streets and shivered at night in the chilly air of spring.

Messenger pigeons sent to seek aid from Faça went unanswered. Perhaps they were hunted down by trained falcons that the defecting Rima commanders had offered up to General Namen. Or perhaps King Shilué had decided that aid would be wasted because Faça's young army could not stand against General Namen and his battle-hardened veterans. In any event, no help would be forth­coming for Rima.

The ministers begged the king to consider surrender in the face of certain defeat.

“I thought you did not approve of my father's decision.”

The ministers had no response to this. But a few snuck out of the city on their own and headed for the Xana camps. Their heads were sent back to Na Thion in sandalwood boxes.

General Namen's men shot arrows with letters wrapped around the shafts into Na Thion. Xana was not interested in the surrender of the city. An example had to be made to the other rebel Tiro states that insurrection would not be tolerated. Traitors to the empire must pay. Na Thion would be slaughtered to the last man, and all the women sold.

Their hope for mercy from Xana or salvation from Faça gone, the ministers became desperate. They now wanted the king to order the citizenry to resist to the utmost. Perhaps if they put up enough of a fight they could convince Namen to reconsider.

But Namen stopped attacking the city. He ordered his men to dam up the river flowing into Na Thion and to wait until starvation, thirst, and disease did his work for him.

“We are running out of water and food,” King Jizu said, and licked his parched lips. He had given the order that the palace and all officials must follow the same rationing regimen imposed on the rest of the city. “We must think of a way to save the people.”

“Your Majesty,” one of the ministers declared, “you are the symbol of the will of the people of Rima. The people should be happy to die for you. The glorious expiration of their bodies will preserve the rectitude of their spirit.”

“Perhaps we should order some of the citizenry to commit suicide to demonstrate their loyalty to Rima,” another of the ministers suggested. “This will conserve supplies for the rest of us.”

“Perhaps some of the women and children can be organized into a siege-breaking unit,” yet another minister offered. “We can open the city gates and herd them to rush at the Imperial forces. The emperor's soldiers, faced with so many feminine and childish faces, may hesitate, unable to cut them down in cold blood. If they allow the women and children to escape, we can wear disguises and mingle into their number to reach safety. And if they do start killing the women and children, we can retreat and make another plan.”

King Jizu could not believe what he was hearing. “Shameful! You have lectured me all these months about the honor of the House of Rima and the duties the king and the nobles owe to the people. But now you suggest the people of Rima make meaningless sacrifices to save your worthless lives. The people offer up their treasure and labor and maintain all of us in luxury with the single expectation that we will protect them in times of danger. Yet this one obligation you wish to shirk by sending women and children to die. You disgust me.”

King Jizu stood on the walls of Na Thion and asked to parley with General Namen.

“You care for the lives of the young men who fight for you, General.”

Namen squinted up at the young boy, saying nothing.

“I can tell because you have not attacked Na Thion. You're unwilling to let even one soldier die if victory could be obtained another way.”

The Xana soldiers looked at their general, who stood tall and kept his face still.

“The city is close to death now. I can give the order for a desperate counterattack. We will surely lose, yet some of your men will die, and your name will be despised among the people of the Six States for generations as a killer of women and children.”

Namen's face twitched, but he continued to listen.

“Rima is poor in arms and men but rich in symbols. I am perhaps the best symbol of all, General. If you wish to make an example to the other rebelling Tiro states, it is enough that you have me. The people of Na Thion have resisted you only at my orders. If you spare them, you may win future battles with less resistance and less loss of life. But if you slaughter them, you will only make every city you attack in the future more determined to never surrender.”

Finally, General Namen spoke.

“You may not have grown up in a palace, but you're worthy of the Throne of Rima.”

The terms of the surrender were very clear. Jizu and all his mini­sters would pledge complete obeisance to Emperor Erishi and cease all resistance. In exchange, General Namen would not harm the population of Na Thion.

Jizu knew that Namen planned to take him back to Pan as a war captive. There, he would be paraded, naked, through the city's broad avenues, filled with jubilant citizens celebrating victory over a rebel king. More strings; more puppetry. Then, he might be executed in public after long torture, or he might be spared. It was up to the whims of Emperor Erishi.