The Grace of Kings (48 page)

He remembered how he had felt as a young man watching Mapidéré's procession through the road near Zudi: that mixture of awe and fear, the trembling one felt in the presence of so much power. He marveled at the change in circumstances.

“Emperor, king, general, duke,” he whispered to himself. “These are just labels.” Yet the labels changed how one behaved. He had already become used to the idea of himself as the Duke of Zudi, and now he was growing used to the idea of himself as the King of Géfica. Might he grow used to yet another label? Might he grow used to being the object of awe and wonder and . . . perhaps fear and hatred?

The animals in the Imperial Zoo and Aquarium moaned for food. They were beautiful and lonely, caged things that had no control over their own fates.

In one of the cages was a beautiful and proud stag who paced back and forth impatiently. Yet, the label in front of its cage declared it to be a horse. Puzzled, Kuni stared at the creature, who stared back.

“Who will bring down the stag?” Kuni asked himself. “Is the hunt almost over?”

Kuni came to the small houses at the back of the palace, the hidden women's quarter. Here, the wives and consorts of Emperor Mapidéré and of young Emperor Erishi lived. They were frightened and uncertain of their future. But when they saw Kuni, they painted their faces and came out—each to stand in front of her own house—clad only in seductive smiles. Luscious, pitiful creatures, they seemed to him not very different from the animals in the zoo.

Kuni was tired. He had been fighting and running, it seemed, for years. Away from Jia, he had never yielded to the temptation of the company of other women. But he had physical needs, and having come so close to death sharpened his appetite. The palette of tantalizing shades of flesh before him would not, could not, should not be resisted.

Didn't he deserve some rewards? Didn't he deserve to relax just a little?

“A brave man deserves a great beauty,” one of the women said. She was lovelier than any women Kuni knew, and she wore nothing except a necklace made from shark's teeth. The strange, barbaric jewel somehow seemed fitting to Kuni. And her smile pulled him in—he thought, for a moment, he could see her face flicker into the image of a skull, but then he blinked, and the vision went away.

He stayed in the women's quarter for that night, and then the next. He did not leave for ten days.

Rin Coda came to find Kuni.

He had known Kuni before he was Duke Garu, before he was even a prison guard, before anyone thought Kuni would amount to anything.

A friend like that sometimes could say things that would not be tolerated if they came from other subordinates.

“Kuni,” Rin said. “It's time to stop.”

Kuni heard him but promptly put Rin out of his mind. He was enjoying a massage from two women who he had decided were his favorites. One of them was from Haan, and her dark skin was smooth as polished lacquer, warm as a cooking stone. Her thighs were so strong and supple that he constantly felt the need to test them. Her eyes held such promises of pleasure and compassion.

The other woman was from Faça, and she had skin so pale that you could see the blood flowing in her veins as she blushed and laughed. Her hair was bright red, like the passion of an exploding volcano (not unlike Jia, come to think of it). Her breasts were so ripe and full that Kuni felt as though he were caressing peaches, peaches full of honey nectar.

“Kuni,” Rin said again, louder. “Look at me. Have you forgotten what we came to do?”

Kuni frowned in annoyance. Rin was intruding on his daydream. He imagined living here forever. He could now see why Emperor Erishi did not want to leave his palace, did not care about what happened outside of it.

He would live like the emperor. He would eat out of golden bowls with jade spoons. He would smoke, in coral pipes, ethereal tobacco that had been cured and sifted a hundred times by specially trained monkeys who could climb the cliffs where the tobacco was grown, fed by dew. He would drink tea that consisted of the tenderest leaves, plucked by young children whose fingers were nimble enough to not break the buds prematurely and release their flavor. He would have a new woman to bed every night, but these two he would always keep for comfort when he had had a surfeit of the new.

“You should address me as ‘Lord Garu,' ” Kuni Garu said. “Or maybe even ‘Your Majesty.' ”

The dandelion seed has finally found the right soil. The eagle has finally soared as high as he should.

Desperate, Rin tried one last time. “Kuni, imagine how Jia would feel if she were to see you now.”

“Silence!” Kuni was out of the bed in a single motion. “You are too bold, Rin. Jia lives in my heart. But it is my appetite that needs comfort right now. Do not forget who you're speaking to.”

“
I
am not the one who has forgotten who you are.”

“I do not wish to see you anymore, Rin.”

Rin Coda shook his head. He left to find help.

Cogo Yelu came in with a large basin. He directed Mün Çakri and Than Carucono to pry the two women from Kuni's grasp and pull them out of the bed, and then he emptied the basin, full of water and ice taken from the winter cellar, onto Kuni's naked form.

Kuni howled and jumped out of bed. He was fully awake for the first time in ten days, and he had a good mind to order Cogo Yelu's head chopped off right then and there.

“What is the meaning of this?” he roared.

“What is the meaning of
this
?” Cogo pointed at the bed, now a sodden mess of silk sheets and lace covers, the empty wine goblets on the floor, the piles of art and treasure that Kuni had hoarded from all over the palace and then strewn carelessly around the room.

“Cogzy, I want to enjoy myself for a bit. By the Twins, I deserve it!”

“Have you forgotten the men who died in the Grand Tunnels? Have you forgotten the children fallen by the roadside from starvation? Have you forgotten the mothers and sons forcefully separated by corvée administrators so that the emperor could add another stone to his Mausoleum? Have you forgotten all the men who have died to fight for an end to all of this, and the women who will mourn them forever? Have you forgotten your wife, who prays for your safety daily, dreaming that you will achieve greatness and bring relief to the people of Dara?”

Kuni had no reply to this. He felt as though he was waking from a dream, a dream that made him vaguely disgusted with himself. He shivered as he felt the ice water on him again.

“I am ashamed to see this, Lord Garu,” Cogo said, and he averted his eyes from Kuni Garu's nakedness. Than Carucono and Mün Çakri did the same.

Kuni stared at him. “How dare you lecture me? You are the one who counseled me to allow the surrendered Imperial soldiers to turn Pan into a lawless hell. You urged me to be great in all things, cruelty and appetite, so that I can keep the reins of power. I am simply enjoying the role you designed for me.”

Cogo shook his head. “You are very much mistaken, Lord Garu. I counseled you to seize power so that you may use it to do good, not so that you can indulge in its exercise as its own end. If you cannot see the difference, then I have indeed been blind.”

Kuni Garu sat down on the bed and covered himself with a sheet.
It was a nice dream while it lasted.

“I'm sorry, Cogo. Please bring me some clothes.” He waited a moment and then added, “Do not speak of this to Jia.”

But Rin Coda came into the room and handed Kuni his old robe; it had been sewn by Jia and was now full of sweat stains and patches.

“Thank you,” Kuni said. “And I'm sorry for how I behaved. Old friends are like old clothes: they fit the best.”

Duke Garu announced that the looting of Pan would stop immediately and henceforth he would govern Pan with a gentle hand: All the cruel and complicated laws of the empire would be abolished and the profession of paid litigators eliminated—the people cheered wildly at this. There would be no more corvées, and taxes would be reduced to one-tenth of what they were before.

From this point forward, only three criminal laws would be enforced in Duke Garu's Pan: first, a murderer would be executed; second, one who physically injured another had to pay compen­sation; third, thieves must return their loot and pay a penalty.

There was wild celebration in the streets, and the people now cheered Kuni Garu as the Liberator.

“Lord Garu, now you see how Rin's suggestion has worked out,” Cogo said. “Not only did the period of looting give us the loyalty of the surrendered Imperial soldiers, but it turned the people of Pan permanently against them. Even if those men were to plot a mutiny now they would have no support among the populace. The former Imperial soldiers, knowing that the people of Pan hate them, have no choice but to support and defend you. You have trapped them into throwing in their lot with you without them being any the wiser.

“And by ruling Pan now with a gentle hand, you are like the spring breeze after a winter of frost, a stream of fresh water after a wild fire. Had you been gentle with them from the start, the people would have treated your compassion as weakness. But now that they have suffered for ten days, they appreciate your kindness ten times more.”

“You are a cruel and manipulative man, Cogo,” Kuni said. He smiled and waved at the people as he and his followers paraded down the street, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

“The common people are like unruly children. If you give them candy always, they will think they should be given even more. But if you slap them hard and then hand them candy, they will come crawling to you and lick your hand.”

“You're comparing me to men who treat their wives like dogs, to be beaten and then caressed.”

“It sounds harsh and unpleasant,” Cogo said. “But the world is full of harsh and unpleasant things that must be done, especially if you would like to soar as high as an eagle.”

Kuni paused. “You're probably right, Cogo. But enough has been done in my name that I do not wish to look into a mirror for a while.”

Cogo Yelu sighed. He noticed that the duke no longer called him
Cogzy
, and he found that he missed the endearment. Speaking about the world as it was did not always endear you to those you served.