She leapt; she twirled; she bent and flexed and her long, loose hair spun gracefully through the air like the tip of a writing brush being wielded by a master calligrapher. As Risana’s shadow flickered over the silk screens, her sleeves stirred the smoke from the incense burners into semisolid shapes: ships emerging from roiling waves and thick clouds; clashing armies on a dark plain; dueling heroes slashing at each other in the air; fleets of massive machines at war in air and under the sea.
The assembled guests were mesmerized by the show, and when Luan stole glances around at the others, he saw more than a few faces wet from this tribute to the martial splendor of Dara.
Even the longest celebration must come to an end. The guests said their good-byes to the hosts as the early morning stars rose in the east.
“Are things really as bad as I fear, old friend?” asked Luan. He had deliberately waited to leave with Cogo.
Ever cautious, Cogo waited until they were in the carriage. “It depends on what you mean.” He relaxed into the seat and sighed contentedly.
“For example, I noticed that you’ve kept your family away from the Harmonious City.”
“Not everyone is interested in politics,” said Cogo. “Or good at it.”
“I sense fear and uncertainty among Kuni’s old generals.”
“Thinking that the empress is intent on taking your fief and command away from you can certainly lead to some paranoia.”
“Is it paranoia? I never spent much time with the empress.”
Cogo gazed at Luan. “It is said that Consort Risana fears the empress because she cannot tell what the empress wants. It is the same with the rest of us. She has done much to promote the careers of scholars and bureaucrats, but whether that’s just part of the emperor’s need to shift from a time of war to a time of peace or a plot of her own design, no one knows.”
“And what’s going on with Gin? That was a strange lecture she gave you. She might not have attended a private academy, but she studied the Ano Classics on her own. We all know she’s no unlettered soldier.”
“Gin leads all of the emperor’s old generals. I don’t blame her for playing to her crowd.”
“Does she resent the empress?”
“Gin keeps her own counsel, as you well know. But I do know that during the first year of the Reign of Four Placid Seas, the empress made an effort to befriend Gin. I believe that effort was rebuffed because Gin wanted to be loyal to Consort Risana, who she thought of—and still does—as a comrade.”
Luan closed his eyes and sighed. Gin, you’re always so rash. I told you to keep yourself out of palace intrigue.
“I notice that it was Consort Risana, but not the empress or the emperor, who came tonight.”
“You are not the only one.”
Does the emperor’s absence indicate his support for the empress?
As if he had guessed Luan’s unvoiced question, Cogo said, “The emperor is said to lean on Consort Risana’s counsel more of late. He visits her often to discuss affairs of state, and it is said that he relies on Risana’s judgment of character, as she can evaluate the sincerity of those who advocate passionately for a position. Yet the empress is not disfavored; she simply exercises her influence a different way.
“While Consort Risana is friendly with the wives of Kuni’s old generals, several of Empress Jia’s ladies-in-waiting have married high-ranking ministers and scholars or have become trusted housekeepers in their households.”
“Weren’t some of Jia’s ladies-in-waiting young girls she had rescued from the streets of Çaruza during the time she was the Hegemon’s hostage?” asked Luan.
“Indeed,” said Cogo. “Jia has been like a mother to them. They’re very resilient, resourceful, and—” He hesitated, searching for the right word.
“—extraordinarily loyal to Jia,” said Luan. “Perhaps with more zeal than would make others comfortable.”
Cogo chuckled. “The Imperial household is both harmonious and… not so.”
Luan nodded. It is very like Kuni to be comfortable with dissonant voices.
“You never got the chance to compare yourself to a flower tonight,” he said.
Cogo laughed. “The last time we played this game, I called myself a patient snapping flytrap, but the emperor insisted on comparing me to a stout bamboo for holding up his civil service. I’d rather not deviate from the emperor’s metaphor. I suppose I feel more like a strained bamboo these days, bent so far that I fear I might snap.”
“The empress must favor you, given her estrangement from the military commanders.”
“It’s hardly an easy thing to be ‘favored’ by the powerful,” said Cogo. “You, who refused all titles to be a floating anemone, ought to know that.”
“I’m sorry,” said Luan. He wanted to have nothing more to do with courtly factions and warring Imperial consorts, but he could not help caring about the fate of his friends and lover. “Who do you really serve, old friend?”
“I have always served the people of Dara,” said Cogo in a placid tone.
And the two rode on through the dark streets of Pan, each thinking his own thoughts.
By the time Consort Risana’s retinue had packed up everything and left Mün Çakri’s house, everyone was too tired to realize that two members were missing.
In the inner courtyard of the house, Naro kept a garden and a cottage that he sometimes used as a study. Two individuals dressed in the attire of Risana’s dancers stood here now, admiring the carp swimming in the fish tank kept here for the winter. The fish—coral red, sunbeam gold, pearly white, jade green—surfaced from time to time from the dark water to display their shiny scales in the faint flickering light of an oil lamp, like thoughts glimpsed in a dream.
“So your student wants to go away again,” said the woman, who was golden-haired and azure-eyed. Even the lovely carp seemed to dive deeper after they’d glimpsed her, embarrassed that they could not rival her in beauty.
“That does appear to be the case,” said the man, whose wrinkled dark skin and stocky figure brought to mind a fisherman rather than a dancer.
“Don’t you want to encourage him to help Kuni? There’s a storm brewing; our brothers and sisters are eager to be involved. Tazu is already at it.”
“Tazu will always be involved, and he makes life interesting for us all. But Little Sister, the more Luan learns, the less he needs my guidance. That is as it should be. A teacher can only lead the student down a path he already has chosen.”
“That is rather… Fluxist of you, Lutho. I’m a little surprised.”
The old man chuckled. “I don’t think we need to disdain the philosophies of the mortals when they have something to teach us. It is the Flow of the world that children and students must grow up, and parents and teachers must let go. The gods have been retreating from the sphere of mortals over the eons as the mortals’ knowledge has grown. They used to pray to Kiji for rain until they learned to divert rivers and streams for irrigation; they used to pray to Rufizo for every cure until they learned to use herbs and make medicine; they used to pray to me for knowledge of the future until they grew confident that they could make their future.”
“But they still pray.”
“Some do; but the temples are no longer as powerful as they were during the Diaspora Wars, and I suspect even those who pray know that the gods are more distant than before.”