Kado sat up straighter, as did the others in the hall. Interesting!
The young man bowed deeply. “Rénga, you speak the honored name of my grand-uncle.”
“He was a calm man in troubled times.”
Kita nodded noncommittally. The emperor’s words could be taken as either a compliment or criticism. Cosugi had generally been thought of as among the least effective of the Tiro kings during the rebellion against the Xana Empire, and his restored Haan had been the first state on the Big Island to fall to the armies of Emperor Ragin. It was best not to dwell on that history.
“I thought I recognized a regal soul in the gentle flowing outlines of the logograms!” said a pleased Ruthi. “You are truly skilled with the writing knife for someone so young.” Then he seemed to realize how he sounded and coughed to disguise his embarrassment. “Of course, we knew nothing of your background as we reviewed all the essays anonymously.”
Kado shook his head. If word of what Ruthi just said gets out, those cashima will have even more ammunition in their accusations of bias and favoritism.
“You observed in your essay that the current administration of Dara is impossible to sustain over the long term,” said Kuni. “Can you review the argument for me?”
Excited whispers passed up and down the two columns of officials.
Kado watched as Zato Ruthi surveyed the hall full of astonished officials, a satisfied smile on the Imperial Tutor’s face. Sly old fox! Of course he would state the argument of the essay in the most generic way possible, disguising its real bite. This way, he distances himself from Kita Thu in the event that the emperor is displeased with the argument, and that lavish praise of Thu’s handwriting just lays the groundwork for more deniability if necessary—he could always claim to have been overwhelmed by the form rather than the substance of what was written.
Once again Kado was glad that he stayed away from Kuni’s court as much as possible. The Grand Audience Hall was a deep pool whose tranquil surface hid powerful currents and countercurrents beneath, and a careless swimmer could be easily pulled in and never able to get out. He knelt up even straighter, keeping his shoulders hunched and his eyes focused on the tip of his nose.
Kita Thu gazed back at the emperor, his face a perfect mask of awe and respect. “Of course, Rénga. I eagerly await your criticisms of my foolish ideas.”
A heavy tapestry with a map of Dara hung behind the throne, and behind the tapestry was a small door leading to the emperor’s private changing room, where he and his wives got ready for court. Now that formal court was in session, the room should be empty.
The other door to the changing room, the one opening to the corridor that led to the Imperial family’s private quarters, opened slowly.
“Hurry! Get in there before someone sees us.”
Timu, Théra, and Phyro slipped into the room and shut the door quietly behind them. This latest bit of mischief had been Théra’s idea. Phyro wasn’t sure spying on an examination would be any fun (“I don’t even like taking my own exams!”), and Timu was worried about the wrath of their father and Master Ruthi if they were caught.
But Théra had painted a picture of thrills for Phyro (“Don’t you want to see Father intimidate one of these bookworms?”) and convinced Timu that he was going to get in trouble even if he didn’t participate (“Isn’t it the eldest brother’s duty to prevent younger siblings from ill-advised adventures? And isn’t he equally at fault with them should he fail in his duty?”). In the end, both boys—one eager, one reluctant—agreed to come with her.
The lamps in the changing room were still lit, and the children almost screamed with fright when they realized that it wasn’t empty. Lady Soto, the empress’s confidante and the caretaker for Timu and Théra when they were younger, glared at them from next to the door leading to the Grand Audience Hall.
“Don’t just stand there,” she hissed. “If you’re going to eavesdrop, come closer!”
CHAPTER TEN
A BALLOON RIDE
Curious Turtle drifted leisurely over the endless sea.
“Look! Look!” Zomi shouted, pointing to the southeast.
The gentle swells broke, and a massive, sleek, dark body leapt out of the water. Even at this distance, it was clearly many times the size of the hot-air balloon they were riding in. The colossal fish hung suspended for a moment in air, thousands of black scales scintillating in the sunlight like jewels, before falling ponderously back into the water. A moment later, the muffled splash reached their ears like distant thunder.
“That is a cruben,” said Luan Zya, “sovereign of the seas. They are often seen in the sea between Rui and Crescent Island. I think they like to dive down to the underwater volcanoes and linger in the heated water, much as the people of Faça enjoy hot spring baths near Rufizo Falls.”
“I never thought I’d see one! It is”—Zomi hesitated—“beautiful. No, that’s not right. It’s beautinificent, brilli-splen-sublimeful, magnidazzlelicious. I’m sorry, I don’t have the words. These are all the pretty phrases I know.”
“The world is grand and full of wonders.”
Luan smiled at the chattering girl, remembering the indescribable joy he had felt the first time he had seen a breaching cruben from the deck of a Haan trawler. He had been only ten, and his father, the chief augur of Haan, had stood by him to watch the leaping crubens, recounting the lore of the scaled whales while resting a hand gently on the boy’s shoulder.
How do you know so much about the world, Father?
By following curiosity, the quality that Lutho prizes above all.
Will I ever know as much as you?
You will know much more than I do, Lu-tika. It is the natural flow of the universe that sons should exceed their fathers, and students shall surpass their teachers.
“Can we get a closer look?” asked Zomi eagerly.
“Maybe,” Luan said. And he swallowed the lump in his throat and turned away to hide the fact that his eyes were wet. “Let’s see if luck is with us today.”
He leaned over the side of the gondola, uncapped his drinking gourd, and tipped it over carefully to let out a thin stream of red wine. The liquid line plunged straight down, but as it neared the sea, the stream twisted and pointed to the southeast, turning into a string of crimson pearls that scattered and fell into the waves.
“Good,” Luan said. “The wind is coming from the northwest near the surface. We can ride it.”
Reaching above his head, Luan twisted a dial about a foot across in diameter with both hands. The dial was connected through a system of gears and belts to the stove above them, filled with freeze-distilled liquor—meant for cleaning and stripping paint rather than drinking—and caused the thick flax wick to retract into the stove. The flame that roared overhead quieted and grew smaller, and the balloon began to descend.
“So we’re entirely at the mercy of the winds?” asked Zomi. The balloon continued to fall until the northwesterly breeze caught it. “What if you can’t find a wind headed in the direction you want to go?”
Luan reached up and twisted the dial the other way. The wick extended, the flame roared back to life, and the balloon stopped falling and drifted to the northeast.