Ken Liu - The Grace of Kings

“I need your advice, Luan.”

“I can’t tell you what to do. We’re all stumbling in the dark.”

“I don’t think what you two do in the dark is ‘stumbling,’ ” Kuni said, giving Luan a look.

Luan Zya spread his hands. “Gin keeps her own counsel, you know that.”

“If the hegemon were in my place, he would be marching to Boama right now.”

“But you are not Mata Zyndu.”

“Yet I wonder if Mata’s choice, in this case, would be right.”

Lady Risana came into the room. In her arms she carried her new baby. Kuni reached out, and Risana handed the baby to him. Timu and Théra were still awkward with Kuni, as they missed their mother and were not used to their father. The king was thus extra affectionate toward the little boy. The prince, still not formally named, was called Hudo- tika.

“If Gin were a man, would you know what to do?” Risana asked as Kuni stopped pacing and played with Hudo- tika.

Kuni considered the question. “Maybe. With ambitious men sometimes it’s best to let them go as far as they want, so long as they’re still helping you. You can’t tell how high a kite can fly without being willing to let all the string out. Trust is often better than jealousy as a path to loyalty.”

“That’s a lesson that Mata Zyndu never learned,” Luan Zya said.

“Does the fact that Gin is a woman make any difference?” Risana said. “Gin has always asked simply for the right to play by the same rules as the rest of you.”

Kuni nodded. “You have again cleared away the fog in my thoughts. None of us are perfect, yet our imperfections may complement one another and become something grand. I’ll congratulate Gin.”

“What of her query to send you the Seals of Rima and Faça?” Luan asked.

Kuni tickled Hudo- tika , and waved a hand at Luan dismissively. “That query is a test. For me. Tell her to keep them and to take good care of Rima and Faça.”

Queen Gin’s guards brought to her a bald beggar in a white cape.

“He claims to have important information concerning the hegemon.”

“What do you have to tell me, old man?” asked Gin.

“It’s for your ears alone.”

Gin waved the guards away. But she reached under her desk and grasped the handle of her trusty marshal’s sword.

“Speak.”

“Every once in a while, the gods send us gifts,” the beggar said. “But these gifts are not pure blessings, for the gods have pride and jealousy, the same as mortals. If you refuse a gift from the gods, great misfortune will follow.”

Gin laughed. “I grew up in the streets of Dimushi. Do you think I’ve not heard such speeches from a hundred frauds just like you? All right, how much money do you want? But I don’t need you to tell my fortune.”

“I’m no fortune-teller.”

Gin regarded the beggar more closely. She saw the contrast between his dirty face and his spotless white cape; how he did not really lean on his walking stick; the way his face seemed to flicker between youth and old age in the sunlight filtered through the fog outside the windows of the palace in Boama.

She nodded for him to go on.

“Your Majesty, the Islands of Dara today are divided among three great heroes. Kuni Garu has the west, Mata Zyndu has the south, and you have the north. Garu and Zyndu are deadlocked along the Liru, and neither can gain an inch of advantage over the other. If you aid Garu, Zyndu will lose. If you aid Zyndu, Garu will lose.”

“You’re very bold.”

“Yet if you aid either, in time the victor will turn on you, for great men do not like to be beholden to anyone. Thus, if you aid neither, that may be the most advantageous course for you . You now possess the realms of Faça and Rima. There’s no reason why you can’t conquer Gan and Wolf’s Paw as well. At that point, both Garu and Zyndu will have to beg for your support, playing suitor for your regal favor. You can then seize the opportunity to take over all of Dara for yourself, if you like.”

Mazoti pictured the Islands of Dara as a giant cüpa board. She imagined the stones being placed on the grid, a strategic vision that matched the beggar’s words.

“If this is a future you want, you must declare your independence now and sever your allegiance to Kuni Garu. Let the world know that you are your own woman and follow no one’s orders but yours.”

Mazoti looked at the Seals of Faça and Rima on the small table next to her. There was also a letter from Kuni Garu congratulating her: Your victories will live on in the annals of Dara forever .

The beggar was about to go on, but Gin stopped him.

“I must think about what you have said.”

Gin went to visit the Temple of Rufizo in Boama. It was built over the site of a hot spring that supposedly had curative powers similar to the Rufizo Falls in eastern Faça.

In front of the giant green jade statue of the healing god, Gin prayed.

“You once came to me to prevent me from going down a path that you judged to be a great harm.”

She looked at the white jade dove, Rufizo’s pawi , carved over the statue’s shoulder.

“Speak to me now, and tell me, what is the right road?”

She waited quietly. But the statue made no response.

On the way out of the temple, she dipped her hand into the pool that collected the water from the hot spring. The water was scalding hot, and she could not keep her hand in it for long. But she persisted and held her hand down until the skin blistered and she had to withdraw.

The pain seemed to echo the wounds in her heart that could never be healed: the cries of the children being maimed; the whippings administered by the self-righteous; the humiliation of crawling between the bully’s legs; the years of constant fear and terror she was forced to live through because she was small and weak. She clenched her fist: that was why she had to strive, to fight, to display, to achieve. To be safe.

But was that all there was in the world?

The gods were silent and capricious, she thought. She longed to find that doctor who had stopped her at the village in Dasu before she left. She wanted to grab him and shake him until he told her what she needed to hear.

Then, she composed herself and left the temple, nursing her burned hand.

She had to pick her own path, as she always had.

“When I was a nobody, King Kuni treated me as a friend,” Gin said to the beggar.

“The friendship of kings is like the promise of a drunkard,” said the beggar.

But Gin ignored him. “He shared his food with me and drove me in his carriage. He gave me his sword and elevated me to be the Marshal of Dasu above his other retainers. Kon Fiji always said that men should be willing to die for great lords who recognize their talent. It’s no different for a woman. I cannot betray him.”

“You think the words of Kon Fiji, that ancient fraud, should govern your actions? We live in a world of swords and blood, not of ideals.”

“If one abandons all ideals, then the world will be without substance. Kon Fiji may not have known much about how to win a war, but he did know about the moral way to live.”

The beggar shook his head and left.

As Puma Yemu continued to disrupt Mata Zyndu’s supply lines in Cocru, Mazoti made steady gains in the east. The Tiro states still loyal to the hegemon lost one battle after another, until she eventually conquered all land east of the Wisoti Mountains, including Wolf’s Paw and all the wealthy towns of old Gan.