Ken Liu - The Grace of Kings

Being the Duke of Zudi was probably the first job that Kuni Garu really enjoyed.

The only imperfection was that Jia’s and his families still refused to have anything to do with him — they were sure that this victory was only temporary, and that the empire would be back at any moment.

“They know perfectly well how harsh Xana’s laws are,” Kuni fumed. “If the empire returns, they’ll all be dead. Better go all in and bet everything on me.”

But the elder Garu and Matiza hoped that Erishi would be more merciful than Mapidéré, and they thought it wiser to keep their distance from the doomed rebel and leave themselves some room to maneuver; Kuni obliged them by staying away. (Lu Matiza did manage to send word to Jia through friends that she was sure Gilo would come around, eventually, if Kuni continued to do well.)

But Naré Garu defied Kuni’s father’s wishes and came to visit him and Jia in secret a few times to give advice to the pregnant Jia and to cook Kuni his favorite meals.

“Ma, I’m a grown man now,” Kuni said, as Naré insisted on filling his bowl with sweet taro rice.

“A grown man wouldn’t give his mother so many heartaches,” said Naré. “Just look at how many of my hairs have turned white because of you.”

So Kuni kept on stuffing his mouth with sweet taro rice while Jia watched, smiling. He vowed to make his mother proud — like Jia, she was one of the only people in his life who never gave up on him.

He woke up with the sun, oversaw the morning drills of soldiers outside the city, came back for a quick brunch, and then reviewed civil and administrative matters until early afternoon — his time in the Zudi government came in handy, as he had good relations with the bureaucrats, his former colleagues, and he understood the importance of their unglamorous work. After a quick nap, he met with Zudi business leaders and elders from the countryside to hear their concerns. He invited them to stay for dinner and then reviewed more documents until it was time to go to bed.

“By the Twins, I’ve never seen you work so hard,” Jia said. She stroked Kuni’s hair and his back lovingly, as though she was petting a large, enthusiastic dog.

“Tell me about it,” Kuni said. “I’ve cut my drinking down to only at mealtimes. I’m not sure this is healthy.” He smacked his lips but refrained from looking around for a bottle. Jia wouldn’t drink with him anymore, claiming that it wasn’t safe given her very pregnant state. (“Surely a little drink wouldn’t matter?” “Kuni, it wasn’t easy for me to get pregnant; I’m not taking any chances.”)

“Why do you have to meet with those old peasants?” Jia asked. “The mayor never bothered with them. So much of your work you impose on yourself.”

Kuni’s face turned grave. “People used to see me staggering around the streets, hollering and drunk with my friends. They thought I was a callow youth. Then they saw me go to work as a paid servant of the emperor, and they thought I was a boring bureaucrat with no ambition. But they were wrong.

“I used to think that peasants had little to say because they had no learning in their minds. I used to think that laborers were crude because they had no organ for fine feelings in their hearts. But I was wrong.

“As a jailer, I never got to understand my charges. But when I became a bandit, I spent a lot of time being close to the lowliest of the low: criminals, the enslaved, deserters, men who had nothing to lose. Contrary to what I had expected, I found that they had a hardscrabble beauty and grace. They were not mean in their nature, but made mean by the meanness of their rulers. The poor were willing to endure much, but the emperor had taken everything from them.

“These men have simple dreams: a plot of land, a few possessions, a warm house, conversation with friends, and a happy wife and healthy children. They remember the smallest acts of kindness and think me a good man because of a few exaggerated stories. They’ve raised me on their shoulders and called me duke, and I have a duty to help them get a little closer to their dreams.”

Jia listened carefully and did not hear in Kuni’s speech his habitual whimsy. She searched his eyes and saw in them the same sincere glint that she had seen when she asked him about his future years ago.

Her heart felt so full that she thought it might burst.

“Keep on working then.” Her fingers lingered on his shoulder as she retired to sleep.

After Jia was gone, Kuni thought about sneaking out to share a few sips with Rin Coda at the Splendid Urn.

Rin had promised Kuni a great time if he came out tonight. “Widow Wasu has lined up some great entertainment for us. She’s been telling people how you used to go there often and how she still has your ear. If you show up, you’ll be doing an old friend a great favor.”

Being the Duke of Zudi was very tiring work, and sitting in mipa rari all day long made his back ache. Kuni did yearn to go and be among his old friends, where he could lounge comfortably on the ground in géüpa without concern for his appearance, where he could say what was on his mind without worrying about every word being scrutinized, where he could be his old self, instead of being so responsible .

Yet he knew it to be an impossible wish. Like it or not, he was now the Duke of Zudi, no longer the gangster Kuni Garu. He could no longer be truly comfortable anywhere. Wherever he was, his new title was part of how people saw him.

The Widow Wasu wanted him there so that she could claim a bit of the magic of that title too and turn it into drunk customers and jangling copper pieces.

Rin was also happily running a business where he accepted people’s money in exchange for “access” to the Duke of Zudi. And Wasu probably was one of his new clients.

Cogo Yelu disapproved of this whole business, but Rin answered him by quoting a Classical Ano proverb: “ Datralu gacruca ça crunpén ki fithéücadipu ki lodü ingro ça néficaü. No fish can live in perfectly clear water.”

Kuni agreed that it was important to keep some connections to the world of organized crime, and he also assured Cogo that he did not give the people who paid Rin any undeserved advantages.

But he had so much to do. The village elders he met earlier in the day had spoken of the need for repairs to the irrigation ditches. He wanted to review the bid budget from the masons Rin had recommended to be sure that it was fair. Maybe he’d just deal with a few more petitions….

Before long he fell asleep at his desk, and a trail of saliva wet the paper under his face as he dreamed of sweet, hot bowls of sorghum ale.

“Lord Garu, we need to talk about our finances,” Cogo Yelu said.

Kuni was both amused and annoyed whenever he heard his old friends address him as “Lord Garu.” Sure, he liked hearing it from former Imperial constables and soldiers who used to harass him and his friends, but it sounded wrong coming from someone like Cogo, who he always thought of as an older brother. There was no hint of joking in Cogo’s tone, either. He was bowing slightly, his face turned to Garu’s feet.

“Cut that ‘Lord Garu’ bit out, will you? We’re old friends, but you’re acting like a stranger.”

“We are old friends,” Cogo said. “But men have roles and masks that they wear, and these have a reality of their own. Authority is a delicate thing, and it must be carefully cultivated by proper ritual and action from the governing and the governed alike.”