The Grace of Kings (64 page)

Cogo put down his bowl of stones. “Lord Garu must meet you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

THE MARSHAL

THE TENTH MONTH IN THE FIRST YEAR OF THE PRINCIPATE.

Kuni Garu closed his mouth and acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

He bowed again. “I apologize. Miss Gin Mazoti, I'm all ears for your advice on my state.”

They sat down on the ground around the low table in
mipa rari
. Kuni Garu took care to pour tea for Gin.

Gin was touched. A king was serving her. Even though he knew she was a woman, he treated her just like the great strategist that she claimed to be. Perhaps this was a lord that she could serve, and serve well.

But first, she would test him again.

“Lord Garu,” she said, in the familiar manner that she knew his followers used with him. “What position will you give me?”

“How many soldiers can you lead?”

“If you give me ten men, I can make them fight like fifty. If you give me a hundred men, I can make them fight like a thousand. If you give me a thousand men, I can conquer Rui in five days.”

Kuni Garu hesitated. There was a thin line between arrogant delusion and genius, and he was inclined to think that this madwoman was closer to the former. But Cogo Yelu had never been wrong, and Kuni had learned to listen to the counsel of those he trusted.

“The more the better then?”

Gin nodded.

“Then I must make you the Marshal of Dasu.”

Gin sucked in her breath. A woman marshal was an idea that did not even exist in fairy tales. Lord Garu really was different.

“Lord Garu, I will be frank. I believe you are in a weak position. Your family is held hostage by the hegemon. You have no more than three thousand soldiers under your command, while the hegemon can call on his own fifty thousand men and fifty thousand more allied troops from the other Tiro states. You have brave commanders following you, but none of them have the capacity to make your vision come true. Most would think that you have no chance.”

Kuni Garu nodded. “Yet you believe you can defeat Mata Zyndu?”

“I cannot match him on the battlefield in single combat, and I will never be able to repeat his feat of daring in the air over Zudi. Yet Mata Zyndu is impulsive, emotional, and he relies on brute valor rather than sound tactics. He has no understanding of the art of drawing power from men's hearts: politics.

“He can shed tears when a prized horse dies, yet he doesn't understand how forcefully requisitioning provisions from the peasantry weakens his support.

“He has set up the new Tiro states in a haphazard fashion, rewarding the undeserving and passing over the worthy. He is like a crossbow bolt near the end of its flight: seeming strength disguising terminal fall.”

Kuni and Mazoti stayed in Cogo's house for three days and three nights. They shared food from the same plate as they debated and slept on mattresses placed next to each other on the floor as they discussed strategy, and Kuni held the reins of the carriage personally as he drove Mazoti around Daye when they both wanted a breath of fresh air.

The palace issued a formal proclamation that King Kuni had decided to name the Marshal of Dasu. The whole army was abuzz with rumors about who it would be. Mün Çakri and Than Carucono both had supporters, and betting pools were set up.

As the army on Dasu assembled outside Daye on the auspicious day, they faced a dais with the blue-whale-on-red-sea banner flying high over it. King Kuni led the ministers and soldiers in prayer to Kiji, patron of this island, and then asked the new Marshal of Dasu to stand up.

The soldiers strained to get a good look at the new supreme commander of all Dasu forces. But they rubbed their eyes and looked again. Could it be? How was this possible?

There, on the dais, in a bright-red dress, was a woman. Not a very good-looking woman to be sure, with her shaven head and thin figure, but there could be no doubt. The new Marshal of Dasu was not a man.

King Kuni bowed down to her three times, as was dictated in the ancient rites of Tiro kings.

“I entrust the army of Dasu to you, Gin Mazoti,” said Kuni. “From this day forward, whatever you have decided about the affairs of the army, let no man, not even me, gainsay.”

He untied his sword from his belt and handed it to Gin. “I am not a noted swordsman, but this sword is a gift from a dear friend. I once slew a great white serpent with it, and it was the first weapon to make Emperor Erishi cower in fear. May this blade be as lucky in your hands as it has been in mine.” Gin bowed in
jiri
and accepted.

The soldiers below the dais watched the ceremony in stunned silence, but now they could no longer stay quiet.

“Soldiers of Dasu.” Gin Mazoti raised her voice to be heard above the rising murmurs. “The world will be as confused as you when they see me. And in their confusion, we will strike them down.”

Kindo Marana almost spit out his tea as he heard the news that Dasu's new marshal was a woman.

“What's next? Will the soldiers of Dasu now hold needlepoint classes and put on makeup before battle?” He laughed, tried to drink, and had to stop to laugh some more.

He could not imagine how this foolish Kuni Garu ever managed to get into Pan and capture Emperor Erishi. He had been lucky once, but luck would not favor him again. Kuni Garu was doomed to die on the tiny island.

Than Carucono and Mün Çakri seethed as they sat around the table.

“Gentlemen,” Gin began the meeting. “I am not so stupid as to not understand that you are unhappy with my elevation.”

Than and Mün had pressed Kuni Garu in private to explain the decision.

“We've followed you since the days you were a bandit!”

“What has she
done
? Nothing!”

But Kuni had demurred, saying only that he did not think that talent cared whether it was found in one Tiro state or another, or in men of noble or common birth, or even whether it wore a robe or a dress. This was as hard to argue against as it was unhelpful.

Than found it hard to look at and address the new marshal properly. Even sitting down, he and Mün towered over her. She looked like a woman and also not like a woman: her shaved head, her scarred face, the muscles in her arms and calloused fingers—they contrasted with her silk dress, her low voice, and her . . . breasts.

And she looked straight at them instead of lowering her eyes demurely.

“A woman is often weaker than a man physically,” Gin continued. “And that means she must use a different set of techniques when she wishes to overcome a stronger opponent. She must turn his strength against him, let him defeat himself by overexertion, throw him off balance. She must not be ashamed to benefit from every advantage available to her and break the rules of warfare established by men.”

Mün and Than nodded reluctantly at this. Her words, at least, did make sense.

“Dasu is far weaker than the other Tiro states and certainly than Zyndu's Cocru. Yet our king dreams of victory and of one day, perhaps, ascending to the Imperial Throne. It seems to me that being a woman, I may have a better sense of the hard decisions that must be made to bring about Dasu's rise from its present weakness. I cannot inspire the soldiers by my personal valor and deeds of strength, and so I will need your support and faith to put my plan into action.”

Mün and Than drank their tea. They found that they were not as angry as they had thought.

“The history books are full of examples of young commanders establishing their authority with the common soldier through terror and discipline. They would put the troops through some silly exercise and then flog or behead those judged insolent. Yet, because I'm a woman, if I were to do this I would be called a petty castrating harpy, a shrew in need of a man's firm hand. Instead of respect I would only create resentment. Such is the way of the world.

“So, I will need your ideas and help, gentlemen, on earning the hearts of our soldiers.”

On the advice of Mün and Than, Marshal Mazoti immediately abolished the marching drills. “Being able to parade around in synchrony is useless on the battlefield,” she declared, and the assembled soldiers cheered.

Instead, training now primarily took the form of war exercises. The Dasu army was divided into operating units of various sizes. Then they were put through simulated battles involving different scenarios: assaulting a beachhead, defending or taking a fortress, preparing for an ambush in hills and forests. During the war exercises, sword blades and the tips of spears were wrapped with heavy cloth to reduce the chances of serious injury, but other than that, the officers and soldiers were encouraged to make the exercises as realistic as possible.

The new marshal told her officers that their job was not only to carry out the orders of the chain of command, but to improvise on the basis of changing battlefield conditions. Every officer, Mazoti explained, from herself all the way down to a lowly corporal leading a squad, needed to think of themselves as the head of a living organism fighting for survival, and every advantage must exploited. If that involved unorthodox tactics that broke written or unwritten laws of war, so be it. “In war, our only goal is to win.”

Mazoti held
cüpa
lessons and promoted the game throughout the army. Whether playing the game really improved strategic thinking or not, the effort sent a message that valor and strength alone were not enough, and had to be accompanied by tactical thinking at all levels.

The war exercises, due to their realism, took a heavy toll on the soldiers. Everyone had bruises, and more than a few men suffered broken bones as they fell into pit traps set by the opposing side. Sometimes mock battles were lost when one side was fooled by “enemies” who dressed up as civilians.

For the most part, the soldiers did not complain; they were rewarded for quick thinking and bravery during these exercises. Soldiers received bonuses or had their pay docked depending on how well they performed, and officers were promoted or demoted based on their display of tactical brilliance.

Even the most realistic war games could only do so much. To further the soldiers' training, Mazoti sent small detachments on raiding missions to pirate havens in the islets to the far north. These skirmishes gave the men experience of real warfare that could not be obtained any other way. Whatever booty they captured they got to keep.