Ken Liu - The Wall of Storms

“Then why don’t we just send Zomi to see the regent?”

“Dasu is much too far away. It would take two days to get there, even in the fastest airship. We don’t have that kind of time because the Grand Examination is tomorrow. You do need to study more, Hudo- tika . You have no sense of geography. Besides, such a public gesture would embarrass Zomi and might prejudice her chances in the examinations.”

“Then… can we talk to Uncle Rin?”

Théra pondered this. “Uncle Rin is in charge of security at the Examination Hall and he’s always been good about playing along with us, so that’s not a bad idea. Problem is, the passes are collected along with the final answers from all the test takers and turned in to the judges in matched sets. Getting Zomi into the hall isn’t enough; we also have to give her a real pass. Even the Farsight Secretary has no authority to make examination passes.”

“Can’t we just forge a pass for her?”

“Do you think Uncle Rin’s security procedures are just for show? He cuts the passes out of a single sheet of paper with golden threads embedded at the paper mill so that the pattern on each one is unique, and then he distributes the blank passes to all the provinces and fiefs by the projected numbers of cashima . Any passes that are unused are sent back. At the end of the examination, he puts all the used and unused passes together like a big puzzle by matching their golden threads, and any forged pass will stick out like a sore thumb because it won’t fit.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Timu finally broke into the discussion, his voice full of wonder. “I had no idea you were so interested in the Imperial examinations.”

“I used to daydream about taking the examination myself someday,” admitted Théra, her face flushed.

“Wh-what?” asked an incredulous Timu. “But that’s not—”

“I know that’s not possible! You don’t have to explain—”

“But why would you even want to?” asked Phyro. “It’s a ton of work!”

“As princes, you’ll both get to work on something important for Father when you’re older,” said Théra. “But for me and Fara… we’ll just be married off.”

“I’m sure he’d give you something to do if you asked,” said Phyro. “He says you’re the smartest of all of us, and there are some women officials too.”

Théra shook her head. “They’re as rare as cruben horns and dyran scales… besides, you don’t understand. It’s okay for you to work for Father without any qualifications because you’re boys and are expected to… take over for him some day. But for me—never mind, this isn’t important right now. Let’s focus on how to help Zomi. We need someone who has the authority to issue passes, and we have to convince them to give Zomi another chance.”

“While you’re doing that,” said Timu, “I’m going to get started on the essays for all of us. I’m no good at plotting, but I can at least free you up. Just remember to save some time later tonight to copy over my drafts in your own handwriting.”

Though Timu made it sound easy, Théra knew that ghostwriting for her and Phyro wasn’t trivial. Not only did Timu know just the right references to make and the correct moral lessons to draw and the proper structure for assembling the arguments, but he also took care to phrase things so that the essays he wrote for them actually sounded like they were written by Phyro and Théra. Timu really was very intelligent, just not in a way that pleased their father, and Théra could tell Timu sometimes envied her and Phyro, though he tried not to let it show.

“Thank you, Elder Brother,” said Théra. “But I don’t want you to do that. Phyro and I will write the essays ourselves.”

“We will?” asked a surprised Phyro.

“We will,” said Théra firmly. “Maybe the ‘apology’ started as just another prank, but I do feel bad about what we did to Master Ruthi. He really does want the best for us—he didn’t even want us punished more than we deserved.”

“Well, maybe he’s not that bad,” Phyro said grudgingly.

“Besides, Phyro, remember the story about the Hegemon and King Mocri. This is a matter of honor.”

Phyro’s eyes brightened. “Yes! We’re like the Tiro kings of old: honorable princes and princesses with the grace of kings.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” said a relieved Timu. “Writing an essay with the sort of logical errors Hudo- tika habitually makes is torture .”

The maids and servants hurrying through the halls of the palace did not slow down as crisp peals of laughter and indignant cries of protestation echoed around the Imperial family quarters.

“…we couldn’t think of anyone else who could help us,” said Phyro.

“No one,” affirmed Théra. “This is a task requiring Fithowéo-like courage and Lutho-like wisdom, not to mention Rufizo-like compassion and—”

“And Tazu-like recklessness,” interjected Gin Mazoti, Queen of Géjira and Marshal of Dara.

Gin was receiving the children in her bedchamber instead of a formal sitting room. In a lot of ways, the children treated her as family.

She had arrived at the Imperial palace just that day. She didn’t visit the capital often, as administering Géjira and overseeing the affairs of the empire’s scattered but vast military kept her busy, but the first Grand Examination of the Reign of Four Placid Seas was a special occasion, and she had high hopes for a few of Géjira’s scholars to distinguish themselves.

“Er… I wouldn’t quite put it that way,” said Théra. “I think we should focus on the bravery and wisdom and compassion—”

“Flattery does not become you, Rata- tika ,” said Gin. “You’ve come to recruit me as your coconspirator because you want me to shield you from your father’s rage when your silly scheme blows up.”

“Indeed you wrong us, Auntie Gin! Perspective is every—”

“Oh, stop it. Do you think you can outwit me with your tricks? Remember, children, I knew you when you were still making dumplings out of mud and waving willow branches as swords. I understand the way your minds work. As the peasants would say, ‘Soon as you loosen your belt, I know the color of your shit.’ ”

The children giggled. This was one of the reasons they liked Auntie Gin—she never put on airs with them and spoke to them as colorfully as she would to her soldiers.

Now in her thirties, Gin Mazoti still kept her hair closely cropped to the skull, and her compact body, despite her life as a queen, remained muscular and nimble, like a craggy reef standing against the sea, or a coiled snake ready to strike. A sword leaned against the dresser to the side—though no one other than a member of the Imperial family or a palace guard was allowed to carry weapons in the palace, Queen Gin had been given this singular honor by Emperor Ragin. She was the commander of all of the empire’s armed forces, perhaps the most powerful noble in all Dara, and yet now she was being pestered by children to play a dangerous game—breaching the security of the Grand Examination.

Life with Kuni Garu is always interesting.

“Help us, Auntie Gin,” said Phyro. He put on his cutest smile and added a bit of whine. “Pleeeeease.”

Gin had always liked Phyro the most of all of Kuni’s children. This was only in part because Phyro was bright and always begged her for stories about the war. In truth, Gin had a better rapport with Consort Risana than Kuni’s other wives. During the time of Kuni’s rise, Jia was held by the Hegemon as a hostage while Risana rode by Kuni’s side, and Gin had come to respect her as an adviser to the king. Secretly, she hoped that Kuni would designate Phyro the crown prince.