A Secret Atlas (18 page)

Ministers beyond any practical purpose.”

Hisatal frowned. “But without leadership, Helosunde would collapse into disorder. It is our

purpose to maintain order.”

“But we must do this within the shell of the state, Hisatal. Leaders, princes,

make
decisions
—but we provide them the choices from among which they select. Leaders

come and go, but the bureaucracy is eternal. To those outside we are the instrument of

state, carrying out the dictates of the leaders. To the leaders we are eyes and ears, hands

and feet, making it possible for them to administer their nations. Before the time of

Emperor Taichun, the Empire was in chaos, with warlords fighting warlords and the

Emperor’s dominance measured by how widely his army ranged.”

Pelut’s blue eyes narrowed. “The Helosundian Council governs in its own name, allowing

resentment to be directed at the ministers. Neither Prince Cyron nor Pyrust need heed

them since they cannot speak to them as peers. If the ministers feared poor leadership,

their retaining power could be understood, but they fear losing it and the riches it brings

them.”

He let a bit of an edge enter his voice and Hisatal found within himself a shred of dignity

that prompted a blush. It had not been difficult for Pelut’s agents to learn that Hisatal had

entered into a series of agreements with shipping houses and cartographers to give them

information about what the
Stormwolf
discovered. It would make him and his family very

wealthy, and that wealth could be used to guarantee patronage that would vault him into

the Ministry’s upper echelons.

“You are correct that we must maintain order, but
how
we do that is just as important. You cannot divorce the two things.” Pelut slipped his hands from his sleeves and held them

out, palms up. “The people cherish stability and cling to hope. They hope things will get

better. They believe that if they work hard and are diligent, they may someday be blessed

with
jaedunto
. With that comes fame, fortune, and many other benefits.”

“More realistically, we know that
jaedunto
is a mere fantasy for most. As good as we can be, as hard as we study and work, such a thing is not possible for us. There are rumors,

yes, and Taichun’s Grand Minister Urmyr might have achieved it. But he was a celebrated

warrior before becoming a minister, and his life has largely been mythologized. He

existed, and his precepts are still followed.”

Pelut looked over at Iesol. “Which of his sayings would apply here?”

The young man bowed his head. “Book Seven, Chapter Four, Verse Twenty-seven. ‘And

holding up a nut, the Master said, “We take nourishment from the kernel, discarding the

shell.” ’ ”

Disdain flashed over Hisatal’s face. “Yes, looking at the truth of a thing is important, but

you are saying we hide the truth of things from the leader and the led respectively.”

“Because Urmyr’s words were for
us,
not them.” Pelut let a smile tug at the left corner of his mouth. “The rice is a problem because of Helosundian protests, as well as protests

from the inland lords who will still have to send rice to Moriande. It is a problem because

Pyrust’s army will not starve. We will need to initiate an effort to divert eight percent of the grain into stores from which we can disburse them as needed.”

Hisatal nodded. “A wise precaution, Minister.”

“And a bold undertaking. I will be making the delivery of the rice
your
problem, Minister.”

The man’s head came up, shock widening his eyes. “But, Master, I am prepared for the

journey. Things have been made ready. My things are already aboard the
Stormwolf
.”

Pelut shook his head. “By the time you return to your home you will find they have been

restored to you.”

“You cannot—”

“I can and I have. I have because you violated Urmyr’s saying.” Pelut allowed disgust to fill

his words. “Iesol, the quote about the perils of greed. The bathing one.”

“ ‘And the Master said, “The just sip from the river of Reward, the greedy drown in it.” ’ ”

“But, Master—”

“You are a fool, Hisatal, and had I known you were such a fool, I would not have

appointed you to the
Stormwolf
in the first place. Were you expected to find a way to

enrich yourself? Of course. I fully expect that you will divert one percent of the rice into

your own treasury, and do I dispute that? No. I know you will do it, I know you will share

your largesse with me and the others who are appropriate. That
is
the way of things. We reward those who help us.

“But in doing what you did with the
Stormwolf
you became enamored of the shell and

neglected the kernel. I placed you on the
Stormwolf
so you could befriend Keles Anturasi.

You were to win his trust and be his helper. This was not so you could steal his secrets,

but so you could influence him in the future. His grandfather will not live forever and Keles

will replace him. What matter gold in your pocket today, when the world could be yours

tomorrow?”

“I did not think, Master.”

“Wrong. You thought, but you did so without discipline. If there is no discipline, there is no

order. If there is no order, there is only chaos. Chaos destroyed the world and only we, the

bureaucracy, have been able to remake it by establishing order.”

Hisatal bowed deeply, pressing his forehead to the floor.

Pelut allowed him to remain down until sweat began to drip on the floor. “Enough.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Pelut shook his head. “You are Fifth Rank, Hisatal, and you have forgotten all you learned

when you were but Third as is our friend here. ‘The house stands, but dry rot invites the

disaster of a breeze’s caress.’ Do you know that?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Have you not listened, or have you become truly stupid? Iesol, the citation.”

“Book Three, Chapter Eight, Verse Four in
Meditations on collapse
.”

“I knew that, Minister. It is that I am distracted.”

Pelut half closed his eyes. “Undistract yourself, Minister, or I shall find the means to

provide you focus. I would assign you to join Keles Anturasi in Ixyll, but you are as

unsuited to that expedition as he is. He is being sent off to die. Though you have

displeased me, I see no reason to have you die quite so soon.”

“Thank you, Master.” Hisatal’s mouth hung open for a moment more, and Pelut knew he

was searching his memory for a suitable Urmyrian quote.

Pelut declined to restrain himself. “ ‘The wise man is content to be thought a fool, rather

than to speak and have the opinion confirmed.’ ”

Hisatal just nodded, once, curtly, and said nothing.

“We have an immediate problem, Hisatal, which is this: we need someone on

the
Stormwolf
. As Jorim will never head House Anturasi, it need not be someone

important. Indeed, the most competent and wily must be retained, as the next two years

will prove most tricky. Have you a candidate who might suffice? Someone loyal to you,

perhaps?”

Hisatal sat back, but before he could say anything, Iesol cleared his throat.

Pelut glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “You have something to offer?”

“ ‘And the Master said, “Though the neighbor’s fruit looks more plump, the wise man

harvests his own crop.” ’ ”

A smile slowly grew on the elder minister’s face. “By this you mean?”

“Master, Minister Hisatal will require his retainers to deal with the gift of rice. You have in your household one who could be your agent on the
Stormwolf
.”

“Whom did you have in mind?”

“I would advance myself, Master.” The man bowed low and stayed down.

Pelut played a hand along his jaw. Iesol was useful and even competent at a variety of

tedious tasks, which few mastered and fewer cared to remember once they had. He could

have gone far save that he lacked any dynamism. He could neither command nor inspire

and until offering his services now had never exhibited anything beyond the most

mundane of ambitions.

“You have concluded no arrangements to profit from the expedition?”

“No, Master.”

“You are fleeing no entanglements or feuds?”

“No, Master.”

“Raise yourself, Iesol. Look at me.” Pelut shifted around to face the functionary. “Why do

you wish to go?”

“I have seen the ship, Master. I know the glory it will bring Nalenyr. In my soul I know I

could perform no greater service to our nation than to contribute to the expedition’s

success.”

“You think you can make a contribution?”

“ ‘Without kindling there is no fire.’ ”

Iesol’s use of Urmyr’s words stung Pelut, and he should have broken him for being so

bold. He did not because he knew the man was not being bold, merely earnest; and

rewarding him with a position Hisatal wanted would reinforce the need for Hisatal to

adhere to the codes promulgated by Urmyr.
Besides, I can rid myself of him later.

“Do you imagine, Iesol, that your action will cause this Ministry to recognize you upon your

return?”

“My place is to serve, Master, not to dream.”

“Reward shall be considered,
if
I am pleased with your work.” Pelut put emphasis into his words, so Hisatal would know they were for him, too. “Serve me well, the both of you. The

future is known only to the gods. If I am blessed, so shall you be. Through me you serve

the nation. Do not be a disappointment.”

5th day, Harvest Festival, Year of the Dog

9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

162nd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

736th year since the Cataclysm

Xingnakun, Moriande

Nalenyr

Nirati shivered as she strode toward the hulking dome of Xingnakun. The structure, built

on the city’s northwestern quarter, had once been an outdoor amphitheater. Construction

had long since enclosed it with a mushroom cap, and eight buttresses sent arched arms to

cross over the center. A tall spike rose from the intersection and there, at the top, a

blue
gyanri
light burned. Barely visible in the day, at night it rivaled the lights high on the nine bridges—though most people fingered their talismans when they caught sight of it,

even accidentally.

Her shiver had nothing to do with the day, for it had dawned bright and warm. It came from

her experience that morning, setting out from Anturasikun and walking through the streets.

While they were crowded for the Festival, people moved out of her way as she went.

Some dug for talismans, others toed small circles in the dirt, while the few who knew her

looked past her as if she did not exist.

Another time she would have been offended, but circles could hurt her, even social circles,

so having friends turn away was more of a blessing than a curse.
Besides, I could not

abide the pity in their eyes.

It was not hard to tell that she and others were bound for the Tower of Magic and the

healing. Because circles could be proof against magic, their robes had been specially

woven of coarse cloth, with snags and dropped threads. No sash closed them; instead,

square buttons or short ties were used, with hard knots and no loops. Sleeves were

slashed from shoulder to wrist and none of those wandering northwest wore jewelry.

Rings, bracelets, and necklaces had circles and had to be eschewed.

More noticeable than the robes, however, had been the effort to disguise the circles in

their faces. Black crosses slashed diagonally over both her eyes, and another in red

decorated her mouth. Some people clipped their nostrils closed and stuffed cloth in their

ears, but Nirati thought that an unnecessary precaution.

Drawing closer to the dome, she entered a bizarre realm where merchants had set up

small booths or sold things from the backs of wagons. Circles abounded, large and small,

from the tiny talismans many wore daily to hoops large enough to circle the waist. One

man offered crystal disks through which things could be watched safely, while others

touted potions and unguents that would ward folks from magic, or do for them immediately

what the magic might do later. One man offered to store money for those who had come

with purses laden with circular coins. She doubted he or his wagon would be there after

the ceremony, but she admired his boldness.

He lost most of his business to another man who, with hammer and anvil, just squared

coins up for a sliver from each one.

In a few places knots of hale and hearty individuals pointed and laughed at the sick and

injured shambling forward. “Good luck, old One-leg,” or “Not enough magic in the world to

heal you,” they’d call, then dissolve into laughter. One stepped along with a lame man

leaning on a crutch, mocking his limp. Nirati hoped the man would be healed, then come

back and beat his tormentor silly.

If any of them recognized her, they probably wondered what she needed healed. It wasn’t

obvious, but she needed the greatest healing of all. Nirati had no talent and while

everyone told her she just had yet to discover it, she had long since lost the ability to

believe them. Even Majiata had a talent, and her squandering it angered Nirati. Even as

poor with plants as Majiata was, she could have been more help with Keles’ care than

Nirati.

Nirati snarled and refused to let herself sink into self-pity. She had done what she could.