The Grace of Kings (58 page)

“Are you sure you don't want to come with me?” Kuni asked.

“Your Majesty,” Luan Zya said, “I'm a man of Haan, and now that the hegemon has made it even smaller and weaker, King Cosugi will need all the help I can give him.”

They drank their parting cups of arrack and smiled at the memory of Tan Adü.

“Mata Zyndu has made Dasu my prison,” Kuni said wistfully. “Come and visit me from time to time.”

“You will not disappoint Chief Kyzen, King Kuni. I'm certain of it. A caged wolf is a dangerous creature. Dasu won't hold you for long.”

Kuni wasn't sure he shared Luan Zya's optimism. The chips were stacked against him. One, Dasu was tiny and poor. Two, Jia and the children, as well as his father and brother, were still back in Cocru, and Mata made it clear that he intended to keep them there as hostages to ensure Kuni's loyalty. Three, Mata was going to send ten thousand troops under the command of Kindo Marana to “escort” Kuni and his entourage to Dasu and to guard them from Rui. It would take a miracle for Kuni to escape from his predicament.

“I have one last bit of advice to you, King Kuni. Burn all your ships after your arrival in Dasu.”

“But then I'll have no way of ever leaving it.”

“Your priority is to clear the hegemon of suspicions about your ambition. Burning the ships will let him know that you are no threat. Focus on the administration of Dasu and being a good king for now, and let time take care of other matters.”

Ratho and Dafiro finally got a chance to meet for the first time since they parted ways in Çaruza. Kuni's men had been confined to his camp, and Mata's soldiers had certainly not been allowed to visit.

But this was King Kuni's last day in Pan, and his soldiers were finally allowed to roam the streets freely for one day. Although both brothers worked hard to not shed any tears, they had wet eyes and noses that suddenly became stuffed up.

“I heard about you on Wolf's Paw. Could have gotten yourself killed!”

“You're one to talk. You held the reins of a cruben!”

“I'm the older brother. I'm allowed to do foolish things.”

Daf showed Biter to Rat, who admired it and swung it through the air a few times.

“You will not leave Lord Garu?” Rat asked.

Daf shook his head. “Even if I leave, I know you won't leave the hegemon. I might as well make the best of my career with a lord who appreciates strategic laziness.”

“Ah, and here I thought you had finally learned something of honor and would feel bad about desertion.”

They embraced and laughed.

“I wish Lord Garu and the hegemon had remained brothers.”

They drank until the last light of dusk, and then parted ways.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

DASU

DASU: THE SIXTH MONTH IN THE FIRST YEAR OF THE PRINCIPATE.

Marana and his soldiers watched from the sea in surprise as Kuni Garu's men set the transports that had carried them to Dasu on fire. The sight brought to mind Mata's gambit at Wolf's Paw, and Marana frowned.

But Kuni's words dispelled the association. “These large ships will be too expensive to maintain, and I'm going to stay here for a while,” Kuni shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth. Smiling ingratiatingly, he waved at Marana's men. “Bring my good wishes to the hegemon, Your Majesty. Don't be a stranger!” He bowed repeatedly to Marana, like a servant trying to curry favor with his master.

Marana looked away contemptuously. Why was the hegemon so worried about this man? He was no better than a common gangster, a petty criminal more than satisfied with a tiny island and some hovels. Marana decided that Kuni's one “victory” must have been the result of plain good luck.

He had faced far worthier adversaries. Princess Kikomi, for example. A complex set of feelings fought in Marana's heart whenever he thought of her. Though he was a masterful schemer, he had met his match in her. Kikomi had, in the end, stayed one step ahead of him and thwarted his plot. Just as she had
almost
succeeded in ensnaring him with a vision of rebellion, he had
almost
succeeded in seducing her with promises of eternal glory. The princess was willing to live in abiding infamy in the pages of history to save her people—Marana had to admire such grandness of spirit. He also wondered if, in a way, his own current position could be attributed to Mata's own surely complicated feelings about Kikomi. Fortune was indeed a strange thing.

He gave the order to set sail for the northern coast of Rui, where Tanno Namen had lived. He had a promise to fulfill. “Do we have any lamb's tails?” he asked. Even Namen's dog seemed to have more ambition and honor than the groveling Kuni Garu.

Now that he was settled in Dasu, King Kuni handed out titles to his followers. Cogo Yelu and Rin Coda were made dukes, and Than Carucono and Mün Çakri were made into marquesses. He distributed to his followers the few treasures he had kept from Pan—he had been a robber once, after all—and held a lavish banquet for the three thousand soldiers who had followed him to Dasu.

“Now I'm as poor as every one of you.” He lifted his empty purse and let go, and the wind took the silk pouch from him and blew it into the sea. He shook his wide sleeves in the wind to show that they were also empty. The soldiers laughed.

“Since I have so little treasure, I can only hand out lavish titles. Hopefully they'll mean something one day.” Then he turned serious, inclining his head in apology. “You've followed me and suffered a great deal of hardship. I'm sorry I can't give you more.”

His followers uttered murmurs of consolation, but they felt warm in their hearts.

Kuni and his advisers went to Daye, the largest town on the northern coast of the tiny rocky isle. This would be the capital of Kuni's little kingdom. His “palace” was actually just a two-story wooden house not much bigger than the other houses in town.

“Lord Garu, you look weary,” said Cogo.

Now that he wasn't performing in front of a crowd, Kuni allowed his exhaustion and despair to show on his face.

“What am I doing, Cogo? Have I made a mistake from which I cannot recover? What kind of future can I give to my family or the men who have followed me? My domain is about the size of a sheep pen, as far away from the centers of power as possible. Mata will likely never allow me to return home or to bring Jia here unless I give up my territory—am I doomed to die in obscurity, having risked everything with nothing to show for it?”

Cogo had never seen Kuni so morose since he became the Duke of Zudi. “Strength comes from inside the heart, Lord Garu. If your heart has no center, then you will drift without purpose.”

Kuni was silent for a while, and then he nodded.

Jia took the letter from the Cocru soldier but kept her face as frosty as a statue of Rapa.

The soldier waited awkwardly for a moment, realized that no “thank you” would be forthcoming, and scrambled away.

Jia closed the door. The address on the envelope was written in Kuni's unmistakable flowing scrawl. The flap of the envelope had been opened, of course.

Ever since Mata had sent the squad of men to camp outside her house, they had insisted on following her around everywhere she went and examining everything that came into and left the house “for her protection.”

“I once called Mata Zyndu brother!” Jia had screamed at the Cocru captain. “Tell him to come here in person and explain to me why I have been made into a prisoner in my own home.”

The captain had muttered that the hegemon was busy with official business and then ducked out of the way as Jia threw a teapot at his head.

Looking at the letter in hand, she was filled with both joy and rage. The zyndari letters in the script, full of soaring ascenders and wide, expansive loops, threatened to break out of their word-squares and reminded her of Kuni's careless, open smile. But the letter was also a tangible reminder that Kuni wasn't here, with her and their children, but stuck on a distant island where he could play at being a king.

She wished Kuni were in front of her so she could hug him and kiss him and then punch him a few times, really hard.

News of what had happened in Pan had left her bewildered. How could Kuni and Mata, the heart and soul of the rebellion, have come almost to war against each other? And when would he and Jia see each other again?

My Beloved Jia,

Everything is lovely. Please send my regards to Mata.

—Your Loving Husband

The rest of the page was blank.

Jia had to stop herself from ripping the letter into pieces. After all the weeks of worry and lack of reliable news,
this is it?

Then she saw that Kuni had drawn the picture of a dandelion in the upper left-hand corner of the letter, which was written on thick, rough paper. She pulled the letter closer and inhaled—yes, now that she was looking for it, the trace of dandelion fragrance was faint, but to her trained nose, easily detectable.

Kuni must have known that his letters would be read,
Jia realized.

She smiled.
He remembered what I told him about the uses of the
dandelion
.

Quickly going to her workshop, she took a cup of dried stone's ear mushroom, mixed it with water, ground up the mixture until it was a thin paste, and brushed the paste all over the thick page. Then she waited until the paper had been soaked through before dipping it into a thin dish of water, gently washing away the paste.

Zyndari letters emerged in the blank space on the page, fading into view like ships coming out of the fog. Kuni had written the real letter in dandelion milk, invisible until now.

I'm coming home, my beloved, center of my heart.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

A VISIT HOME

OUTSIDE ÇARUZA: THE SEVENTH MONTH IN THE FIRST YEAR OF THE PRINCIPATE.

A rumor spread in Daye that King Kuni was sick and bedridden. When Kindo Marana's envoys came to Dasu to inquire after Kuni's health, a harried Cogo Yelu received them.

“Our poor king thinks of the hegemon every day,” said Cogo. “He has spoken to me often of how he wishes they had parted on better terms, and he thinks of this illness as an opportunity from the gods for him to reflect on his own circuitous path.”

Marana sent his report to Mata Zyndu in Çaruza: “Kuni is in seclusion. No signs of ambition. The lowly weed has decided to settle.”

On a cool summer morning, a beggar arrived at the house outside of Çaruza.

He had gray hair, and his face was scarred. Dressed in rags and straw shoes, he walked with a limp. A straw rope was cinched tight around his belly.

Lady Jia had instructed Steward Otho Krin that all beggars who came to the house should leave with full stomachs, and so he brought out a hot bowl of porridge for the man.

“My lady made this porridge from a special recipe,” explained Krin. “It's hearty and spiced with potent herbs that will not only fill your belly but fortify your body against diseases. You won't be hungry for the rest of the day.”

But instead of thanking him profusely, the beggar only looked at Krin, a twinkle in his eye. “Do you not recognize me?”

Krin stared at the beggar carefully, and then gave a little cry. He looked around to be sure that the hegemon's soldiers down the road were not looking and hurriedly let the beggar into the house. Then he bowed deeply.

“It is good to see you, Lord Garu!”

A warm bath washed off the mud on Kuni's body and the fake scars on his face. His hair had been bleached gray, and it would take time for it to grow out and be restored its natural black color. He was happy to be free of the cinched straw rope that had disguised his beer belly.

He emerged into Jia's bedroom to change. A small vase filled with fresh dandelions stood on the small table by the window. Hanging on a stand nearby were a few new robes she had sewn for him with her own hands, he saw. He buried his nose in them and smelled the fresh herbs that she always used to do their laundry. Tears, unbidden, came into his eyes.

He sat down on their bed and caressed Jia's pillow, thinking of the nights she had spent alone, not knowing what had happened to him. He would have to make it up to her somehow, he vowed.

There were a few strands of hair on the pillow. He picked them up affectionately, and froze.

They were not Jia's red curls, but the straight, black hair of a man.

“I signed on as a seaman on a merchant vessel at Dasu,” explained Kuni. “That was the only way to evade Kindo Marana's spies. Once I got to the Big Island, I had to make my way here slowly, switching disguises every few days.”

Toto-
tik
a did not recognize Kuni and cried when he tried to hold the boy, and Rata-
tika
, the new baby, joined her brother in wailing. This made both Kuni and Jia cry as well. In a house full of weeping people, only Soto managed to get things done. She got food on the table and took away the crying babies.

Otho Krin stood nearby, unsure what to do. Kuni noticed him and, especially, his straight, black hair.

He patted Otho Krin on the back. “Otho, you were a scrawny young lad when I last saw you. I appreciate your taking care of my family. I know that you've always been faithful and true, in your own way.”

Otho flinched and Jia's face was frozen halfway between joy and terror. There was a moment of awkwardness before Soto gave Otho a gentle nudge. Kuni seemed to notice nothing.

“It is . . . my pleasure to serve,” Otho replied, and bowed. Discreetly, he and Soto left the room, closing the door after themselves.

Once they were alone, Jia broke down and cried in Kuni's embrace.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Jia,” Kuni said, stroking her hair. “I can only imagine what you think of all that has happened, and you've had to endure the cold gazes of everyone in Çaruza all by yourself.”

“It's hopeless, isn't it?” Jia wiped her eyes. “I was so angry when I heard what you did and how Mata responded. How can you ever get anywhere when you're holed up on that little island? And whatever you try, Mata still has me and the kids under his thumb here. My family will not talk to me at all, terrified of what the hegemon might think.”

Kuni held tightly to Jia. Everything she said felt like daggers twisting in his heart.

On an impulse, she seized his hands and looked into his face with feverish eyes. “Kuni, what about begging Mata for forgiveness? Give up your title. Let him make you into one of his ministers or even a commoner. We can live a happy life back in Zudi with our children. My family and yours would be so happy to have us back. Maybe you're thinking of flying too high.”

Kuni looked away. “I've thought about it.”

Jia waited, and when nothing seemed forthcoming, she nudged. “And?”

“I think about other families.”

“Other families?”

“On my way here, I had to travel away from the major cities and big roads, and I got to see a little of how bad things have become. Mata may be a great warrior, but he's not a good ruler. The old Tiro states were forced to work together only because they feared the empire more than one another, but now all the old enmities are resurfacing; Mata made things worse with his childish map-drawing, and the new Tiro kings he created have no legitimacy. All the states are preparing for war: Taxes have increased to boost the sizes of armies, and prices in the markets keep going up. Though the rebellion is over, the lives of the common people have not grown better.”

“What does any of this have to do with you and me and our children?”

“This is
not
why you and I risked our lives. The people deserve better.”

Despair and anger warred within Jia as she listened to this speech. “You'd rather be loved by the fickle crowd than be a good husband to me and a good father for our children? How can you neglect us while you blather on and on about ‘saving' the people? The world is not your concern,
we
are. Have you thought that maybe the suffering you see is bound up with the very warp and weft of the world? No matter who is emperor or hegemon, war and death are inevitable? That makes you think you'll be better at ruling the world than him?”

“I
don't
know, Jia. That is why I've come to you to hear your counsel. But what has happened to you? You were once so willing to challenge the world, to imagine how things could be different.”

“Life happened, Kuni! I'm just an ordinary person, a mother. Why is it wrong for me to want my children to be safe, to care about them more than other people's children? Why is it wrong for me to want to live with the man who promised to share my life by my side, to not have him risk death and limb every day?”

“The man by your side?”
Kuni blurted out. “You dare to speak of the man by your side?”

Jia took a deep breath. Then she looked Kuni in the eyes. “You were not here, Kuni. I did what I did to survive, to know that I could still master my fate. But I have never stopped loving you.”

“I never thought faith would be such a difficult thing between us.” Then Kuni stood there, stunned. He had not meant to voice his suspicions; he had come home to seek refuge and encouragement, but this wasn't going at all the way he imagined.

There was now an invisible wall between them, they both saw. They had felt closer to each other in their dreams and yearnings than they did now in person. When they had been apart, each had striven to fulfill an idealized vision they thought the other had of them. But the truth was that they had both changed.

Jia's time of isolation and deprivation had made her treasure the stability and charm of an ordinary life. But Kuni's ambition, now stoked, had made him impatient with concerns he deemed petty. The passion that had united them early on now seemed to have been reduced to embers.

“Drink, husband,” said Jia, and she served Kuni a bland tea that calmed nerves and dulled hearts. She had given the mix to many couples who were too tired to continue fighting.

Kuni drank it willingly.

The visit was drained of its pleasure, as Kuni and Jia behaved like guests sharing a house.

Both focused on the children, anchors for two kites that rode different winds.