The Grace of Kings (60 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

RISANA

OUTSIDE ÇARUZA: THE SEVENTH MONTH IN THE FIRST YEAR OF THE PRINCIPATE.

Kuni asked Soto to take him with her into Çaruza.

“You need someone to carry groceries for you,” he said.

“I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to show your face in Çaruza,” Soto said. “You're supposed to be ill and in Dasu.”

But Kuni would not be dissuaded. The reconciliation between him and Jia had re-energized him. He felt ready to take on the world; he wanted to see Çaruza and to observe the nobility in Mata's capital up close. It was a way to thumb his nose at Mata and the little island prison the hegemon had set up for him. And so, disguising himself as a servant, he followed Soto to the city.

Soto bought rice, fish, vegetables, pork ribs. . . . The basket of goods strapped to Kuni's back grew heavier and heavier, but Kuni didn't complain. The sights and sounds of bustling Çaruza, so much more cosmopolitan and sophisticated than Daye, made him realize how much he missed the Big Island.

“Get up, you worthless, lazy dog,” a Cocru army officer, a fifty-chief, shouted as he whipped a thin, young boy on the ground. The boy tried to get up but collapsed back down from weakness. It was clear that he was underfed and abused. The crowd parted around them, giving them plenty of space.

“What's going on there?” Kuni pushed closer and asked.

Soto shrugged. “The hegemon made many of the Xana prisoners into bonded army laborers—essentially slaves.”

“That boy looks no older than fourteen.”

“The hegemon said that the prisoners deserve whatever happens to them because they served the emperor. Most people agree with him.”

“There's never going to be an end to suffering if ‘he deserves it' is all the justification people need for inflicting pain.”

Soto appraised Kuni and nodded, thoughtfully.

Kuni looked at the half-dead young man lying on the ground. His face twitched.

Then he laughed and strode up to the angry officer.

“Sir! Sir! Can I ask you a favor?”

The officer paused and wiped the sweat from his brows. “What do you want?”

“I hate these Xana dogs as much as the hegemon. I like to devise ingenious games to torment the simple brains of Xana slaves. Since this one is clearly useless for more work, can I buy him from you? I have some new games I want to try.”

His voice was oily and smooth, and his eyes radiated pleasure at the anticipation of inflicting torture. Even the fifty-chief shuddered. But he nodded when Kuni whispered his offer in his ear.

“Ah,” Kuni said, making a face. “I don't have enough cash. Here's ten silver pieces, which is all I have with me.” He frowned, patted his sleeves, and then his eyes lit up. “But I did bring my seal.”

Kuni went to a stationer by the side of the road and came back with a piece of paper that he handed to the soldier. “Just present this to the doorman at the house of Lord Pering and tell him that Master Kunikin—that's me—owes you. I'm the private tutor in his household and the house office will pay you out of an advance on my salary. That's my seal down there.”

The fifty-chief thanked him and unrolled the paper to look at it. He was not a quick reader and puzzled out the letters and logograms with his lips slowly.

“Let's bring the boy home and clean him up,” Kuni whispered to Soto.

“You and Jia are a lot alike,” Soto whispered back. “You can't help but want to help people. Do not underestimate the potential of that quality.”

Kuni was thoughtful for a moment. “Thank you.”

The Cocru officer froze as he got to the impression of the illegible seal.

“It's you!” he shouted. “Fin Crukédori!”

Kuni, Soto, and the boy were not even twenty steps away. Those in the crowd closest to them turned to stare.

“What is he talking about?” Soto asked.

Kuni smiled bitterly. “My past catching up with me.”

The fifty-chief rushed at Kuni. A young woman selling iced sour-plum soup tripped as she was trying to get out of his way, and the ice blocks she carried on her tray scattered on the ground; the soldier slipped on the ice blocks, fell, tried to get up, and fell again.

Kuni said to Soto. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” she said. “Now that I know what manner of man you are, I will tell you my secret.” And she pulled him close to whisper in his ear. Kuni's eyes widened. Then he looked at Soto, and under­standing dawned on his face.

“Do what you have to out there in Dasu,” said Soto. “When the time comes, I will be here.”

He turned around and disappeared into the confused crowd.

Why, Sister, why have you helped that slippery eel slip away? Can't you see he plots against the favored son of Cocru?

He's
your
favorite. I rather like Jia. She's got . . . character. This isn't the time for her to mourn.

I think you've been taken in by the pretend virtues of her trickster husband. He's an actor, a fraud.

Kuni whipped the horse he had stolen to put as much distance between himself and Çaruza as possible. But the horse was old and frail and already was foaming at the mouth. He could see the figures of his pursuers and the cloud of dust they raised behind him.

He cursed his luck. Of all the soldiers in the Cocru army, he had to run into one who had been in Zudi. And of all the soldiers from Zudi, he had to run into one who had seen him using his old trick.

The fifty-chief had called for backup right away. Mata Zyndu had made it clear to the world that Kuni Garu was not allowed off of Dasu. And all of the hegemon's men knew that a reward came with catching Kuni if he returned from exile without permission.

In front of Kuni, now, was a small farmer's cottage. He jumped off the horse, whipped it hard to keep it running down the road, and rushed to the door of the cottage, where a young woman was shelling peas.

“Sister, I need your help.” Kuni was aware of the impression he must have made: The roots of his dark hair were growing out under his bleached hair, and he was dressed like one of Jia's servants. The fake scars on his face and the sweat from his escape made him look like a desperado on the run—which he was.

The young woman, whose olive skin and light-hued hair and eyes suggested that her ancestors were from Amu, not Cocru, stood up, looked at him, and glanced up the road at the approaching dust of Kuni's pursuers. “If you're running from the hegemon, you're probably not that bad.”

Kuni sighed inwardly with relief. Mata never cared much about how the peasants thought of him and saw no point in being their friend. Kuni could just imagine how Mata's nobles, generals, and tax collectors had been treating the populace. But the people were like the sea: They could float a heavily laden ship, or they could make it sink.

“Come with me.” The young woman led Kuni to the well behind the cottage and had him slowly winch himself down into it with the rope and pulley over the well. Once Kuni was in the water, she told him to hold on to the rope and wear the bucket over his head like a helmet. If someone took a quick look down the well, it would look like the bucket was just floating.

She went back into the cottage and built up the fire in the hearth. But she soaked the wood in water first, and then there was a great deal of smoke. Soon, smoke filled the cottage, spilling out the open door.

The Cocru soldiers in pursuit slowed down as they passed the cottage. The fifty-chief thought he had seen the rider getting off near here. He sent half of his men down the road after the cloud of dust they could still see in the distance. The other half walked up the path to the smoking cottage.

They were greeted by a young woman whose face was covered with soot and tears.

“Have you seen a fugitive?” the fifty-chief asked. “He's a dangerous man, an enemy of the hegemon.” He hadn't told his men they were looking for Kuni Garu, specifically, just in case he turned out to be wrong.

The woman shook her head. Agitated, she waved her arms to clear the air around her. But as she did so, the smoke followed her movements, thickened into heavy swirls of dense fog, and soon enveloped both her and the fifty-chief and his soldiers. Everyone began to cough in the smoke, and tears streamed down their faces.

The fifty-chief strained to look around the cottage, but it was hard to see anything. He pushed past the woman and walked deeper into the small cottage. Shadows seemed to leap out of the thick smoke, indistinct shapes and monsters with eyes of fire. The fifty-chief became frightened and confused. His head felt very thick and slow for some reason. It was as though the smoke filled his head.

“The man you are seeking is not here,” the woman's voice said.

“Not . . . here,” the fifty-chief repeated.

He shook his head. He just couldn't think with all this smoke.

He backed out of the dark interior of the cottage, and his head instantly cleared.

Of course the man I'm seeking isn't here. How silly of me. Why would Kuni Garu try to hide in a peasant's cottage? Every man in Cocru knows that Kuni Garu betrayed the great Hegemon Zyndu, and no one would dare to help him.

He mumbled an apology to the young woman and led his men on down the road. If they couldn't catch the fugitive, he decided that he would say nothing. The hegemon would not react kindly if one of his officers found Kuni Garu and let him get away—he might even be suspected of having helped Kuni.

The water in the well was cold, and Kuni shivered as the young woman winched him out. As he emerged into the light, he looked into her face, now bathed in the soft light of the setting sun. Kuni saw that under the streaks of soot and ashes, she was very beautiful.

“What, you've never seen a woman of Cocru before?” she said, laughing.

“I'm Kuni Garu,” he said. He had no idea why. Something about her, about the way she subtly moved her hands and arms to clear away the smoke that still lingered in the yard, compelled him to speak the truth.

“I'm Risana,” she said, “a simple smokecrafter.”