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.
“It’s true that I still have a few extra passes,” said Gin. “But the rules say that they’re meant for specific uses such as to replace the lost pass of another test taker from Géjira, not to get someone from Dasu into the Examination Hall.”
“But this is an extraordinary circumstance,” said Théra. “She lost her pass only because she was being brave; she was defending the innocent.”
“She was defending Da’s honor,” added Phyro.
“Sometimes courage and honor have costs,” said Gin. “She could always go home and wait another five years.”
“But in five years, she’d have to compete against all the new and old cashima again for the few places allocated to Dasu.”
“She’s already passed the second-level examinations once. I’m sure she can distinguish herself one more time.”
“Are you worried that she’ll do better than the scholars of Géjira?”
Blood rushed into Gin’s face and she stared at Théra for a moment, but then she laughed. “You’re getting better at manipulation, Rata-tika, but I was deploying stratagems before you could even walk.”
Théra’s face turned red at having her trick seen through, but she refused to give up. “Would you have been happy if Prime Minister Cogo Yelu had not recommended you to my father back on Dasu but instead told you to wait patiently to distinguish yourself in time?”
Gin’s face turned somber. “You’re too bold, Princess.”
“She deserves an opportunity, as did you. She’s not some wealthy merchant’s daughter, and she doesn’t come from a family of scholars. In fact, she’s so poor that she has to wear a painted sword because she can’t afford to buy a real one. I thought of all people, you would have some compassion for her. Have you been a queen for so—”
“That’s enough!”
Théra bit her bottom lip but said no more.
“Auntie Gin,” Phyro piped up. “Are you scared of the empress?”
Gin frowned. “What are you talking about, Hudo-tika?”
“I heard the empress tell Prime Minister Yelu that she wanted him to administer this examination with extra fairness and adhere strictly to the rules. She told him, ‘Too many nobles think they can get their friends’ children a pass into the Examination Hall with effusive recommendation letters. You must ensure that the results are just.’ ”
“Did she?”
“Yes. She wrote an angry letter to Marquess Yemu because he gave one of his passes to his nephew, who didn’t score as well as some of the other candidates, and the marquess had to apologize.”
“What did the emperor say about this?”
Phyro scrunched up his brows. “Let me think… I don’t think Da said anything.”
“He didn’t even offer Yemu a chance to explain himself?”
Phyro and Théra shook their heads.
Gin looked thoughtful for a while as she pondered this information, and then she locked gazes with Théra once more.
“Does the empress know about this friend of yours?” She spoke in the commanding tone of the Marshal of Dara, with none of the affectionate indulgence she habitually used with the Imperial children. “Don’t lie.”
Théra swallowed, but kept her gaze steady. “No. Mother wouldn’t understand.”
Gin waited a beat. “Just why are you so obsessed with getting this young scholar into the Grand Examination, Princess?”
“I told you. Because she’s brave!”
Gin shook her head. “You know perfectly well how serious your parents are about the rules governing the examination; yet here you’re almost begging for a scandal—”
“I am telling you the truth! Why would I—”
“I may not have Consort Risana’s skill with reading what is in people’s hearts, but I know there’s more to this than being impressed by an act of bravery! What is it that you really want?”
“I want fairness!” cried Théra. “The rules are unfair!”
“What’s unfair about the rules? Everyone needs a pass—”
“But I can’t get a pass no matter how hard I try!” Théra shouted. Phyro, who had never seen his clever, imperturbable sister in such a state, stared at Théra, his mouth agape.
Gin waited.
Théra managed to get herself under control. “She’s a girl just like me, but at least she has the option of taking the examinations to prove herself. Even if Father gave me an official position, the scholars would protest that it is unseemly for a princess to administer and everyone will whisper that it’s only because I’m his daughter. No one will listen to a thing I say. I want to take the exam like the other cashima and prove that I belong. But since I can’t, I’m going to make sure she gets her chance.”
“You are much too young to sound so disappointed with the world. Haven’t you studied Kon Fiji’s precepts about the proper place for a noblewoman of great wisdom? There are other ways of exerting influence—”
“Kon Fiji is an ass.”
Gin laughed. “You’re indeed your father’s daughter. He didn’t have much use for the great sage either.”
“Neither do you,” said Théra defiantly. “Master Ruthi might not talk about you much, but I’ve heard the stories about you and him.”
Gin nodded, and then sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re not unlucky to come of age in a time of peace. Many of the rules that the sages tell us are indispensable get suspended in a time of war.”
Then she got up, looked through her traveling desk until she found a small stack of papers, and retrieved the top sheet.
“What is your friend’s name?”
Phyro and Théra gave her the logograms for Zomi’s name.
“ ‘The Pearl of Fire’? That’s pretty,” said Gin as she dripped wax onto the blank form and then carved out the logograms with a few powerful strokes. “As the name is also derived from a plant, it is a good match for the House of Dandelion. Perhaps this is a good omen.”
She retrieved the Seal of Géjira and pressed an impression into the wax skirt around the logograms. “Here.” She handed the filled-out pass to Phyro.
“Thank you, Auntie Gin!” said Phyro.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Théra.
Gin waved dismissively. “Let’s hope your friend is as worthy as you claim.”
Long after the children had departed, Gin remained sitting at her desk.
At her back, a man emerged from behind a screen. He was lithe, long-limbed, and moved gracefully. Though the dark skin of his face was deeply lined and his hair graying, his green eyes shone brightly with an intense energy.