The Grace of Kings (62 page)

It's hard being here on my own. I had hoped my family would finally be reconciled with us after you and Mata made a name for yourselves—and indeed, for a while distant cousins and granduncles I had never met wrote to me, speaking of plans for visits. But now all the cousins and clan elders are pressuring my parents to stay away from me since you're the hegemon's least favorite person. Oh, I could scratch out the eyes of these distant “relatives.”

Soto has continued to be a great companion and the children love her. Despite her clear interest in politics, I find it odd that she goes out of her way to avoid the nobles of Çaruza. She disappears whenever any member of the nobility stops by—pretending to inquire after me and the children, but in reality just here to gather material for gossip. Even when Mata stopped by personally the other day—a very awkward visit, let me tell you—she hid herself in the kitchen and wouldn't come out. There must be a secret in her past.

But I enjoy talking with her . . . and though I'm no Lady Zy, I want to tell you a few things, my husband, that I think you may be neglecting.

You mention that it's hard to find and retain capable men who will serve you; but what about the ladies, Kuni? Remember that you're in a position of weakness, and those with clear paths to success will want to wager on the hegemon and his new Tiro kings. But Mata is a man who believes in traditions, in proven ways of doing things. Those who cannot compete for his attention—the desperate, the poor, those without lineages or formal learning—may be far more willing to gamble with you. It's not our custom or practice to look to women for talent, so who is to say that you may not have more success there?

Don't be shocked by my suggestion. I'm not saying you should turn the world upside down and do everything that the Ano sages warned against in their ancient books. But think about what I have said, and perhaps you may find an opportunity you have overlooked.

Oh, I have some news about one of your old followers. Remember Puma Yemu, Commander of the Whirlwind Riders? He did so much to aid you and Mata back during the Battle of Zudi. But Mata has never liked him because of his criminal past and didn't reward him after he took Pan from you. In fact, when he drove King Thufi away, he also stripped Marquess Yemu of his title and made him a lowly hundred-chief. Yemu was so mad that he quit the army and became a bandit again!

Just the other day, he came to see me in secret and brought me some very good tea that he had seized from a caravan going into Çaruza. Can you believe it? Such a great warrior reduced to banditry again. It's hardly what he deserved. I dropped some hints about serving you again, and he is very much interested.

Take care of yourself.

—Your Jia, Tired But Happy

My Beloved Jia,

You're indeed the wisest, my better half. I told Cogo about your ideas, and he immediately agreed that they were brilliant. We've been trying to think of ways to get our message out to women of hidden talent.

And your note about Puma Yemu made me think about who else might have lost favor with Mata—if you can keep in contact with them, that would be a great help, but do be careful and don't make Mata suspect you.

But I'm afraid that I also have some horrible news. Cogo Yelu has left me. Excuse me if this letter doesn't make much sense. I can hardly think straight.

Cogo didn't show up this morning for our usual meeting. I sent Dafiro Miro, captain of my palace guards (which consist of him and two other soldiers, but I'm not skimping on titles, since titles are all I have to hand out), to retrieve him. He came back and gave me the bad news: Prime Minister Cogo Yelu was last seen leaving his home at night on a horse headed toward the southern coast of Dasu.

Fearing some mishap, I sent riders immediately after him, and I then spent the rest of the morning pacing around my room like an ant running around on a hot stove. They've now returned, Cogo-less. No one knows where he's disappeared to.

I'm devastated. If even Cogo has decided that following me is a lost cause, then I'm doomed, positively doomed. Ever since I became a rebel, Cogo has been like my right hand. I hardly know how to get home on my own after a night of drinking without him. How am I going to manage his new crops? How am I supposed to certify Authentic Dasu Cooks? How am I to collect taxes without making the people unhappy?

I'm going to be trapped on this little rock in the sea forever.

Many other soldiers and even officers have left me in the past few months, but this betrayal by Cogo feels different. I'm too upset to even be mad at him.

—Your Kuni, in Desperate Times

My Beloved Jia,

Disregard that prior letter. Cogo has returned!

It has been a week since he left, and I haven't been eating or sleeping well. But this morning, just as I was out using the latrine, I saw Cogo ambling up the street, like nothing had happened.

I didn't even bother doing up my robes properly. I ran out into the streets in bare feet and grabbed his arms. “Why, oh why did you leave me?”

“Decorum, Lord Garu, remember decorum,” he said, and he was smiling as if this was all very amusing. “I didn't run away. I was trying to chase down someone who you couldn't afford to lose.”

“Who were you chasing?”

“Gin Mazoti, a corporal.”

I threw his hands down in disgust. “Cogo, now you're just lying. At least twenty corporals have deserted in the past months, and who knows how many hundred-chiefs and even captains. And you went away for a whole week to chase down this Gin Mazoti? What's so special about him?”

“Gin Mazoti is the secret to the rise of Dasu.”

I was very skeptical. I had never heard of this man. But just as Than Carucono can always tell when a colt will grow up to be a great horse, Cogo is very good at recognizing talent in obscurity. I knew that he must have had good reasons to chase after this man, and I should see him.

But instead of bringing the man to me, Cogo said I should go visit him at Cogo's house, where he was staying temporarily.

“Gin doesn't believe that he'll be given enough respect here in Dasu. He used to follow Mata Zyndu, but Mata never listened to any of his suggestions or gave him much to do. So when we departed for Dasu, Gin defected and joined us. But now that he's been here a few months and hasn't been promoted, he decided to leave even though I told him to be patient and wait for me to present him to you. So I had no time to tell you anything. I had to chase after him by moonlight.”

“By moonlight!”

“Indeed. I was in my slippers, not even having had the chance to put on good walking shoes.”

“And how did you catch him?”

“Ah,” said Cogo, stroking his chin and smiling until his eyes practically disappeared. “It's quite a stroke of luck. Gin was going to hire a fishing boat and head for Rui before dawn, and had he succeeded in his plan, it would have been impossible for me to catch him—I'd have to put on a disguise or else Marana's spies would know something was up. But before Gin could get on the boat, a doctor stopped Gin to get his help.”

“What kind of help?”

“Gin told me all about it afterward. The doctor wanted Gin to hold on to a pair of doves while he wrote out a long prescription describing the ingredients and method of preparation for a patient.”

“Doves!”

“Just so. I got to see these doves myself, and they were extra­ordinary: thrice as big as the pigeons you normally see, and with eyes so intelligent you'd swear they were about to talk. The doctor, a lanky young man in a green traveling cloak, told Gin that the cooing of the doves made it hard to concentrate.

“ ‘Just hold on to my doves and keep them happy and quiet so I can think. When I'm done, they'll fly the prescription to my patient.'

“So Gin waited and waited, while the doctor took his sweet time. He'd write one zyndari letter, pause, think hard, and then write another. Finally, Gin said, ‘Doctor, I'm in a hurry. How much longer are you going to take?'

“ ‘You've already waited this long,' said the doctor. ‘Why not wait a little longer? You don't want the patient to get nine-tenths of a prescription, do you? That's not going to do him any good at all.' ”

“What kind of doctor
is
this?” I asked. “He sounds like a fraud.”

“Fake or not, Lord Garu, you and I have much to thank him for. Due to this unexpected delay, Gin remained at the village by the sea until I got there. I immediately begged him to come back.

“At first he was adamant about not coming back. ‘Lord Garu hasn't seen me after all these months of waiting. It would be madness to continue to wait.'

“But the doctor broke in. ‘Would you stop drinking medicine after a week when it takes ten days to show results?'

“Gin looked at him and narrowed his eyes. ‘Who
are
you?'

“The doctor put down his brush and paper and smiled at Gin. ‘I think you already know.'

“Because Gin was staring at him, I looked too. And I realized that the doctor was uncommonly good-looking. Otherworldly, almost. Gin asked, ‘What do you want with me?'

“ ‘I've always regretted what was done to you in my name,' the doctor said. ‘So I've kept an eye on you, though I've tried to stay out of your way because you can take care of yourself, and a doctor's first rule is to do no harm.'

“ ‘Why are you showing yourself to me now?' asked Gin.

“ ‘I'm afraid that if you leave Dasu, you'll never return,' said the doctor. ‘And that would be a harm.' ”

“ ‘If that is all true,' said Gin, ‘then you must know the truth about me. What chances can a person like me have with a lord of great repute like Kuni Garu?'

“ ‘Lord Garu is hungry for talent,' said the doctor. ‘He is seeking everywhere: among bandits, pickpockets, scholars who never passed the Imperial examinations, deserters, even women.' ”

“ ‘Is this true?' asked Gin, turning to me. And I nodded.”

I was so confused, Jia, that I had to interrupt Cogo. “They know each other? Who is this doctor, really?”

Cogo shook his head. “I don't know. After this speech, the doctor took back his doves from Gin and walked away, and Gin looked very thoughtful. When the doctor disappeared down the beach, he turned to me and agreed to come back.”

“That's certainly an interesting story. But Cogo, just how did you come to the conclusion that this Gin is so great?”

“He told me of a way to get you off this island.”

Well, Jia, as you can imagine, we went to Cogo's house right away.

Gin Mazoti is a small man, thin and wiry. He has leathery, dark-brown skin, black hair cropped close to the skull, and dark-brown eyes that dart around, taking everything in.

Cogo had told me that I needed to be respectful, so I didn't act like the king, just a man in search of a great warrior. That was easy—I'm always doing that anyway. So I bowed down to him and asked if I had the honor of meeting the famed Master Gin Mazoti.

“It's Miss Gin Mazoti, actually.” And she bowed back in a woman's
jiri
, her hands folded across her chest. “I came back in part because I heard that you're even willing to consider the talents of the weaker sex. But if you're going to pay me the honor of an audience, I should at least let you know the truth about myself.”

Well, imagine the expressions on Cogo's and my faces. (And how prescient of you, my Jia!)

Kisses for Toto
-tika
and Rata
-tika
.

—Your Kuni, Ecstatic

CHAPTER FORTY

GIN MAZOTI

DIMUSHI: A LONG TIME AGO.

No one ever called her Gin-
tika
. Her mother was a prostitute who died giving birth to her, and she didn't know who her father was. “Mazoti” was just the name of the indigo house where she was born.

Growing up in a whorehouse meant that Gin was the property of the house. She fetched water and welcomed the guests, mopped the floors and rinsed out the chamber pots. She was beaten because she was too slow (“Do you think I'm feeding you to crawl around like a snail?”), and she was beaten because she was too fast (“What makes you think you can just loll about because you finished your chores?”). When she was twelve she overheard the madam speak of auctioning off her virginity. During the night she cut her way out of the closet that the madam locked her in, took all the money that was in the house, and escaped into the streets of Dimushi.

The money didn't last long, and she was faced with a choice. She could sell herself, or she could steal. She chose to steal.

A gang of thieves took her in.

“When it comes to being a thief, young girls like you have certain advantages,” said Gray Weasel, the leader of the gang.

Gin said nothing because her attention was entirely taken up by the feeling of warm porridge filling her belly. It had been three days since she had eaten.

“You are quick, and you don't look threatening,” continued Gray Weasel. “Many people instinctively cross the street when they see a group of boys, but they pity a lone girl begging for food and let their guard down. You can relieve them of their possessions while smiling and pestering them to buy a flower.”

Gin thought his voice sounded kind. Perhaps this was because he was the first man who had ever looked at her as a student, as a colleague, as a
person
, not just a piece of flesh.

It wasn't always that easy, of course, and Gin also learned to fight—sometimes others tried to steal from her, sometimes she was caught and the constables had no pity. The gang taught her that because she was a girl, she had to learn to make the best of her meager advantages.

Her greatest asset was that people didn't
expect
her to fight, though this only conferred a fleeting opportunity that she could make use of, once. She could not posture and taunt and boast and display the way the boys did. She had to behave as though she was helpless and then unleash her strike in one overpowering burst of fury. She went for the eyes, the soft tissue under the lump in men's throats, the groin. She had no qualms about sharp nails, teeth, hidden daggers. She could choose not to fight and yield, or she could choose one flash of deadly force. There was nothing in between.

One day, the gang robbed a caravan making a stop at a cheap inn. Their haul consisted of gold and jewels and a carriage filled with a dozen frightened boys and girls, none older than six years.

“Looks like this ‘merchant' is a child trafficker,” Gray Weasel said, looking at the children thoughtfully. “Probably snatched from their parents in faraway lands.”

The children were brought back to Gray Weasel's home, which was also the thieves' den. They were fed and put to bed. Gin stayed in the room and told them stories until the last boy sank into an uneasy sleep.

“Good job calming them down,” Gray Weasel said to her, a toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth. “I was sure some of them would try to run away the first chance they got. You've got a way with these kids.”

“I'm an orphan too.”

In the morning, Gin awoke to the sound of children screaming. She rushed out of the house. In the backyard, a few of the children lay on the ground crying. One had a bloody bandage wrapped around his right shoulder, his arm gone. Another sat with gauze wrapped around her head, two spreading red stains marking where her eyes had been. A third had lost his feet, and he crawled slowly, trailing blood on the grass. The other children, still uninjured, were held by members of the gang against the back wall. They screamed and kicked and bit, but the men stood as still as statues, not loosening their iron grasp.

In the middle of the backyard was a stump used for splitting firewood. A girl was tied to it, her left arm laying across the stump. She was so frightened that her voice no longer sounded human, but like the cries of some wild animal. “Please, please! Don't. No!”

Gray Weasel stood next to the stump, a bloody axe dangling from his hand. His expression was as calm as his voice, as though this was the most routine of mornings. “It won't hurt for very long, I promise. I'll just take off your arm from the elbow down. People can't resist giving money to a pretty, maimed little beggar girl.”

Gin ran up to him. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? Making enhancements. I'll drop them off around the city every morning and collect them in the evening. They'll bring in a lot of money from begging. Compassion can be a valuable thing to steal too.”

Gin moved to stand between him and the girl. “You never did anything like this to me.”

“I thought I saw in you the potential of becoming a good thief.” Gray Weasel's eyes narrowed. “Don't let me regret my decision.”

“We saved them!”

“So?”

“We should return them to their parents.”

“Who knows where they're from? The traffickers didn't keep records, and these kids are too young to give precise directions. And how do you know their parents didn't sell them because they couldn't afford to feed them?”

“Then you should let them go!”

“And allow another gang to snatch them up and make use of what ought to be
my
property? Are you going to suggest next that I feed them and board them with me for free? Should I abandon my profession and take up Rufizo's work of doing charity?” He laughed, pushed Gin aside, and swung the axe.

The girl's scream seemed to go on forever.

Gin jumped on him and tried to scratch out his eyes. He yelped and threw her to the ground. But it took two men to finally subdue her. Gray Weasel slapped her across the face and then made her watch as the rest of the children were, one by one, maimed in various ways. Afterward, he had her whipped.

That night, Gin waited until all the men fell asleep, then she got up and tiptoed her way into Gray Weasel's room. Through the window, the moonlight cast a pale white pall over everything. Next door, she could hear the pained murmurs of the children.

Slowly, very slowly, she reached into the bundle of clothes next to the bed and retrieved the thin dagger Gray Weasel always kept on him. In a single lightning-quick thrust, she plunged it into his skull through his left eye. He screamed, and Gin pulled out the dagger and thrust it into the soft spot under the lump in his throat. With a bloody gurgle, the scream stopped.

She kept on running until she fell down by the docks next to the Liru River from exhaustion.

That was the first man she ever killed.

Being on her own made it much harder. She had to avoid the gang of thieves, who had let it be known that they were looking for her. She hid in the basements of old temples and only came out when she had to eat.

A couple caught her trying to cut the purse of the wife in the markets one evening. But the husband, a devout follower of Rufizo, decided that rather than turning the young thief in to the constables, he would perform a good deed. They would take the young girl in and try to give her a home.

But the reality of raising a street urchin and rehabilitating a young criminal was far different from how the man had envisioned it. Gin did not trust the couple and tried to escape. They shackled her and read her sacred texts with her meals, hoping that she would open her heart and repent. But she cursed at them and spat in their eyes. So they beat her, proclaiming that it was for her own good because evil had gotten into her heart, and pain was necessary to pry open her heart to Rufizo.

Finally, the couple tired of their experiment in charity. They took her from their house, blindfolded her, and pushed her off their carriage in the countryside far away from Dimushi, far away from their home.

During her stay with them, they had shaved her head (to cure her of her vanity, they said) and dressed her in plain cotton rags that hid her young, lithe figure (to cure her of her lust, they said). Gin was mistaken at first as a boy by those she encountered, and she found that there were advantages to pretending to be a boy. By looking tough as a boy, and by prominently displaying on her belt a short sword that she stole from a hunting lodge, she could avoid a great deal of unpleasant attention.

She stole food at night from the fields, and during the day she wandered down to the Liru River to try to catch some fish.

All day long, laundresses worked next to the river, beating sheets and shirts against the rocks with a cleaning stick. Gin sat a little above the river from them and fished. She caught nothing, so after a while she gave up and just watched the washerwomen. When the women took their lunch break, she looked at them hungrily and swallowed.

An old woman saw the pair of hungry eyes peeking out from behind a tree and offered to share her lunch with the emaciated, dirty boy in rags. Gin thanked her.

The next day, Gin showed up again, and the old laundress shared her food with the boy again.

This went on for twenty days. Gin knelt down and put her forehead against the ground. “Granny, if I ever make it, I will repay your kindness a hundredfold.”

The old woman spat on the ground. “You foolish child! You think I share my food with you because I expect a reward? I do it only because I think you are a sorry sight, and Tututika said all living things have a right to food. I would do no different for a stray dog or cat.” She softened her voice. “I feed you so that you don't have to steal. A man who steals is a man who has lost all hope, and you're too young to have no hope.”

Gin cried for the first time that she could remember when she heard this speech, and she refused to get up from her knees for many hours, no matter how much the old woman coaxed her.

The next day, Gin did not go back to the Liru River. She made her way back to the port of Dimushi, where the docks were perpetually busy. There, she found work as an errand boy for the dockmaster and shipping companies. Her thieving days were over.

Gin treasured the freedom that a boy's disguise brought her. She always kept her breasts tightly bound and her hair closely cropped.

She was also aggressive and quick to anger, sensitive to every slight, every perceived insult. Rumors of her skill with the sword became more exaggerated with every retelling, and so she kept herself safe without having to fight often—but when she did have to fight, she struck without warning and was often deadly.

Once, the dockmaster and a captain had trouble fitting all the captain's cargo into a ship's tight hold. Gin, who happened to be there, offered some suggestions that allowed all the boxes to be arranged so as to fit into the small space. From then on, the dockmaster and captains often consulted her for similar matters. She found that she had a talent for seeing the arrangement of things, for designing patterns and shapes and fitting oddly contoured bundles into tight spaces.

“You have a way of holding the bigger picture in your head,” the dockmaster said. “You might be good at games.”

He taught her to play
cüpa
. The game was played with formations of black and white stones on a grid, and the object was to surround the other player's stones with one's own and take over the board. It was a game of patterns and spaces, of seeing potentials and seizing opportunities.

Though Gin learned the rules quickly, she never could beat the dockmaster.

“You play well,” the dockmaster said, “but you're impatient. Why do you immediately challenge me on every move, attacking before you have uncovered my real weakness? Why do you fight tenaciously for every tiny open space before you, to the neglect of the larger prize of a dominant board position?”

Gin shrugged.

“You play
cüpa
like you strut around the docks, as if you can't bear to be considered weak for even a moment. You play like you have something to prove.”

Gin avoided the dockmaster's eyes. “Because I'm small, everyone has always acted as if they can push me around.”

“And you hate that.”

“I can't afford to appear soft—”

The dockmaster's voice took on a stern tone. “You dream of someday standing tall before men who're bigger than you, but you have not learned to bide your time. If you insist on fighting every fight that comes your way, you're simply letting them push you around in a different way. You will die young and foolish.”

Gin sat still, thinking. Then she nodded.

After two weeks, Gin started winning against the dockmaster.