The Grace of Kings (54 page)

Meanwhile, Mata Zyndu's soldiers continued to prey on the citizens of Pan and the peasants in the surrounding countrysides. There was much suffering and crying for mercy that fell on deaf ears.

Mata Zyndu rode through the streets, surveying the destruction of Pan. The sweetness of exacting vengeance was soured by the disappointment of a string of betrayals he had suffered: Phin Zyndu, Princess Kikomi, and now Kuni Garu, whom he had thought of as a brother.

The joy of being the master of Pan felt hollow. The city, after all, had been handed to him by Kuni, not conquered by his own arms. Nothing felt as good as he had imagined.

He slowed down as he heard a woman singing a dirge by the side of the road. The sound of grieving women was common in the streets of Pan these days, but this mourning song was different because it traversed familiar paths from his ears to his heart: He had heard it often as a child.

Ratho Dafiro, who always rode with Mata, went over to investigate and brought the grieving woman back to face Mata Zyndu.

“Woman, you are from Tunoa?”

The woman, slender and tall, parted her dirty and stringy hair to gaze at Mata. Mata found her dark complexion curious—she looked like someone from Haan, but her speech was pure Tunoa.

“My name is Mira,” she said. “And I am indeed a woman of Tunoa.” She looked at him defiantly, as if daring him to challenge her on this assertion. “My parents made their living by fishing in Haan until, one day, my father's nets accidentally caught a dyran. The local Xana garrison commander claimed that my father had committed sacri­lege because the dyran was sacred to Lady Datha, the emperor's late mother. To propitiate the gods, my father had to pay him ten gold pieces. To escape that debt, my family ran to Tunoa, where they weren't exactly welcomed. But my brother and I were both born on the Isle of Vines, smallest and farthest of the Tunoa isles.”

Mata nodded. The fishermen of Tunoa, like the tradition-bound Cocru farmers on the Big Island, were suspicious of strangers and no doubt contemptuous of a family who ran from a debt—even one that was unjust. He could imagine that the children were picked on by others in their village as they grew up in their adopted homeland.

“How did you come here, and whose death do you mourn?”

“My brother had come over the sea with you,” she said. “He was called Mado Giro.” When she saw no sign that Mata recognized the name, her dark eyes, which had momentarily shone with the light of hope, dimmed. “He was the first from our village to heed the call to rebel. Going from house to house, he told all the parents that they should send their sons to join him because you were an even greater man than your grandfather, and that you would bring glory to Cocru. Sixteen young men went with him to Farun.”

Mata nodded. So the woman's brother was one of the original Eight Hundred who had crossed over the sea with him and his uncle to join Huno Krima and Zopa Shigin. They had believed in him back when he was nobody, when the rebellion had seemed certain to fail.

“I waited at home, but his letters were few and far between. He was proud of what you had done, but he didn't seem to have risen much in your estimation, though I was sure he fought as bravely as all the times he had protected me from the other children when we were little.”

It seemed that he ought to remember something about this man, who must have stood out in his army given his Haan ancestry. But he could recall nothing about his face, his rank, or his name.

He had been so focused on his own valor, on his own deeds of might, on the glory he could accrue to the Zyndu name that he had not taken the time to get to know most of those who trusted him and put their lives in his hands. Ashamed, he avoided Mira's eyes.

“I stayed home to care for our parents, but Kana took them both last winter. I lived alone until I received another letter from Mado, saying that you had finally entered Pan and that the war was over. I packed and came to seek him.”

But instead of a happy reunion, she found her brother just another body wrapped in a shroud in a mass grave. He had been one of the soldiers intent on breaking through the Mausoleum. A set of booby-trap crossbow bolts took his life, though his error allowed his companions to pass deeper and retrieve some treasure from a side burial chamber.

“Fortune is unfair,” Mata Zyndu muttered.

He pitied this woman in a way that surprised him. Maybe it was her accent, which brought to him memories of simpler times at home. Maybe it was her face, which he found beautiful despite the mixture of dirt and dried tears that covered it. Maybe it was a sense of duty born from his embarrassment at having no memory of a man who had loyally followed him for so long. Maybe it was the way he empathized with the dead soldier, who had been courageous and took a great risk only to have other men receive the benefit of his labor.

He felt hot tears welling up.

“Woman, you shall stay by my side. I will take care of you, and you will never lack anything. Your brother was one of the first to follow me, when it was far from clear that I would be victorious. I shall give him a proper burial.”

Mira bowed deeply and then followed silently behind the men all the way back to Mata's camp.

In an alcove to the side of the street, a beggar and a nun had silently observed the exchange between Mata and Mira.

No one paid them any attention. With so many dead in Pan, itinerant monks and nuns had flocked to the city to perform last rites, and Mata's soldiers had made many homeless, with begging their only choice.

The nun wore the black habit of an itinerant of indeterminate denomination, and the face that peeked out from under the cowl seemed ageless. Behind her, a big, black raven stood on the wall on top of the alcove, imperiously surveying the street.

“I like the new look,” she said to the beggar. “You're in mourning for your empire?” The voice was unpleasant, sharp, doleful, raspy.

Though grime covered every visible inch of the beggar's skin—including his bald head—he incongruously wore a spotless white traveling cape. If anyone passing by the alcove paid attention, they would have noticed that the beggar's hand holding the walking stick had only four fingers. He backed up a step and regarded the nun with cold, pale-gray eyes.

“The war has not gone my way,” he conceded. “But your champion is not the one who struck the decisive blow. We've all been tricked.”

The nun's face seemed to flush momentarily, though it was hard to tell in the shadow of her cowl. “Garu may be a son of Cocru, but I wash my hands of him. It's my sister Rapa who seems to have taken a liking to him.”

The corners of the beggar's mouth turned up in a smirk. “Do I detect discord among the Twins and Fithowéo? Perhaps the war is not over yet.”

She refused to take up his bait. “Stay away from Mata,” she said. “I know you hunger for vengeance for those men of Xana who died at Wolf's Paw, but Mata had his reasons.”

“If blood for blood were all that mattered, history would be easy to write. But don't worry, I won't be the first one to break our pact.”

“You may refrain from directly harming a mortal like Mata, but who knows when a gust of wind may decide to topple a weakened flagpole near him? Or when a passing eagle may mistake his head for a rock and drop a turtle on it?”

The beggar chuckled mirthlessly. “Sister, I'm disappointed that you think I will resort to such low tricks. I'm not Tazu. Keep on hover­ing around Mata like a mother hen if you want.”

The beggar walked away, but before disappearing around the corner, he turned back and said, “I have learned much from watching the mortals.”

THE CAGED WOLF

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

THE BANQUET

PAN: THE THIRD MONTH IN THE FIRST YEAR OF THE PRINCIPATE.

Now that Mata Zyndu had put an end to the empire, it was time to hand out the proper rewards for all the rebel leaders. Marshal Zyndu announced that he would hold a banquet.

“This is your opportunity to confront the Duke of Zudi,” Torulu Pering said.

Kuni's advisers studied Mata Zyndu's invitation carefully.

“You can't seriously be thinking of going to this,” Than Carucono said. “Marshal Zyndu has refused to see you all this time, so he's clearly still angry about you taking Pan before him. This banquet is a trap. If you go, you won't come back.”

“Lord Garu has no choice,” Cogo Yelu said. “If he doesn't go, his refusal will be seen by everyone as an insult to Marshal Zyndu and an admission that he has done the marshal injury. If Zyndu then declares Lord Garu a traitor, all the Tiro states will support him.”

“I just don't see why we're wringing our hands here. Lord Garu was the one who got into Pan first and captured Emperor Erishi. Why shouldn't the terms of King Thufi's promise be carried out?” Rin Coda said.

“Do you think you can best Mata Zyndu on the battlefield?” Luan Zya asked.

“No.”

“Then King Thufi's promise means nothing. In this world, the only currency is force of arms. Lord Garu has to go because he's in a weak position, and Mata Zyndu gets to declare the terms.

“But, if we can come up with a way to present our case at the banquet to the assembled nobles, Lord Garu will appear to be so good and loyal in the eyes of the world that Zyndu will have to forgive him. Otherwise, we're finished.”

Kuni listened to the debate without speaking. Eventually, the advisers quieted.

“Mata and I are brothers,” said Kuni, his voice low and somber. “I have done nothing wrong. Why are you speaking as though I must make up a story to justify what has been done? Surely I can simply speak the truth.”

“What is this truth you speak of?” asked Cogo Yelu. “Actions may be interpreted multiple ways, and it is how they're seen that matters, not what was intended.”

“And can you truly say that you have never thought of being King of Géfica yourself?” asked Luan Zya. “You have never been tempted, even once?”

Kuni thought back to his actions in the palace and sighed.

“Luan Zya is right,” Kuni said. “I have no choice. I'll go humbly and apologize to Mata Zyndu, and let's pray for the best.”

To show that he was seriously contrite and posed no threat whatsoever to Mata, Kuni took only Luan Zya and Mün Çakri with him.

“You picked the brains and the brawn,” Mün said, laughing. “You don't need anyone else.”

Kuni left Cogo Yelu in charge of the camp by Lake Tututika with instructions to take all his followers and head for Zudi if Kuni didn't return by that evening.

Mata's camp was right outside Pan, on a hill by the stream that fed into the city. The great fire in Pan continued to billow smoke over the camp, which dampened the celebratory mood.

Soldiers in brand-new uniforms lined the entrance of the camp, their bright spears and rigid new bows fresh from the captured Imperial Armory. They stared at Kuni and his two followers with contempt. Kuni felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and his instinct was to run back to Lake Tututika and tell everyone to get on their horses and take off immediately.

But Luan Zya put a hand on his shoulder. Kuni took a deep breath and continued the long walk into the camp of Mata Zyndu.

The largest tent in camp had been transformed into a banquet hall. Low tables were placed in rows, with seats for all the nobles and commanders of the Six States. At one end of the tent, on a raised dais, was the special table for Marshal Zyndu and his most honored guests. King Thufi had sent an ambassador to attend the banquet on his behalf, but this ambassador was pointedly not seated at the table on the dais.

Kuni saw that he and Luan had been assigned seats near the entrance to the tent, as far away from the honored guests as possible. Mün, on the other hand, didn't even get a seat. He was supposed to sit outside, with bodyguards and other low-ranking followers of the various nobles and officers.

“Mata Zyndu doesn't speak subtly, does he?” Luan observed.

Kuni gave a helpless smile and sat down on the ground in
thakrido
. He was worried, but he was not a man who ever let anxiety get in the way of enjoying good food and wine. Soon, he was toasting the other nobles and enjoying the juicy meats, just as he would have at a party hosted by himself in Zudi.

“Most Honored Lords of Dara.” Mata raised a goblet for the first toast. “For a year and a half we've lived in our saddles and slept under the stars. But we have brought down the evil that was the Xana Empire, a task once deemed impossible!”

“Hear! Hear!”

Mata drained his goblet in one gulp and threw it to the ground. “Yet not all of us fought with one heart. While my brothers and I bore the brunt of the empire's most mighty strike, others among us behaved as mice who steal from the banquet while guests are engaged in conversation. What shall we do with men such as these?”

The assembled lords fell silent. No one dared to look at Kuni Garu.

Kuni stood up. “Brother, let me congratulate you on your great victory. Wolf's Paw will live on in men's memories as a byword for valor, a day when a god walked the earth. Your glory will never be matched. My heart overflows with joy to remember that once you and I stood on the walls of Zudi together.”

A servant brought a new goblet of wine to Mata, but Mata did not take it. A few of the guests had begun to raise their goblets at Kuni's words, but put them down when they saw which way the wind was blowing. Kuni stood and waited awkwardly, and then he drank by himself.

“Kuni Garu,” Mata Zyndu said. “Do you understand your error?”

“If I have given offense, brother, let me humbly apologize to you before all the assembled lords. Your strength at Wolf's Paw gave me an opportunity to stab the heart of the empire in a surprise strike, and I did what I did in aid of the rebellion, of you.”

“Do not call me ‘brother'! Tempted by fame and treasure, you took advantage of the empire's preoccupation with my army and stole into Pan by a dirty trick. You claimed the riches of the palace as your own and manipulated the hearts of the people of Pan and Géfica to support your dream of ascending to the throne. You wished to keep the fruits of the rebellion for yourself, depriving others, far braver and worthier men, of their just deserts. And then you had the temerity to station troops in Thoco Pass to keep out the forces of other rebel leaders, as though you were first among equals of the lords of our rebellion. Do you deny any of these charges?”

Torulu Pering had made this list. Mata's original plan was to arrest Kuni as soon as he arrived and to ask him in a one-on-one conver­sation for the cause of his betrayal. But Pering explained that it was best to make the case against Kuni Garu in front of the assembled leaders of the rebellion and persuade the world of Marshal Zyndu's righteousness and Kuni Garu's guilt. After all, he did capture Emperor Erishi, and everyone still remembered King Thufi's promise. Kuni's claim had to be made to appear illegitimate.

Kuni looked over at Luan Zya, who pointed to his eyes.
It is how actions are seen that matters, not what was intended.

Kuni understood then that he had no choice but to perform, though the performance might cost his friendship with Mata forever. He wouldn't exactly lie, but the dream of sharing Mata's glory was dead. His heart ached as though a knife twisted in it.

“Marshal Zyndu, I'm afraid that you have been ill-counseled.” Kuni's voice was calm and his demeanor remained humble and sorrowful.

Torulu Pering had told Mata to not bother listening to anything Kuni had to say, but Mata couldn't help but be curious. “How so?”

“To punish me for what I did would chill the hearts of all men of daring. The truth is that I knew what was in your heart, and I listened to your dreams. My actions were aimed at procuring the greatest glory for you. I am but a dandelion, softening the hard and bare soil in preparation for the dream of the chrysanthemum.”

Mata's heart softened at this. “Explain yourself.”

“I came into Pan with five hundred men not to take advantage of your sacrifice at Wolf's Paw, but to give it greatest effect.

“Consider, Pan and Géfica were garrisoned with the cream of the Imperial army, the best of the best. Valiant as you are, Marshal Zyndu, do you not think it would have taken you much time and cost the lives of many of your men to pacify the region?”

Mata thought about this and nodded almost imperceptibly.

“My gambit was designed to cut off the empire's head in one swift stroke and lessen the number of good men who might have to die. Though I knew well that you could have vanquished the Imperial army on your own, yet was it not a good thing to try to preserve the lives of your loyal followers from Tunoa? If I could, by my actions, prevent one mother from losing a son, one wife from losing a husband, one sister from losing a brother, would it not have been my duty to act?”

Mata remembered the mourning song from Mira, and anger drained out of his face.

“Once we were in Pan, we guarded the treasures of the palace—after some inevitable small-scale looting that could not be denied to men in the throes of victory—as temporary custodians anticipating your arrival.

“My retainer, Cogo Yelu, took care to protect the Imperial Archives so that when you came to Pan, you'd be able to administer effectively. We took nothing from the Imperial Treasury, nothing from the Imperial Armory, nothing at all from the people of Pan, in order to prepare the place to welcome you in a proper triumph. We pulled out of Pan as soon as we heard that you were coming.

“We did everything in your name and paved the path for your glory. If you think I am ambitious, then you have sorely misunderstood me.”