The sheathed sword on her waist clanged against the stone floor, and the sound reverberated in the Grand Audience Hall.
Soto shook her head and muttered, “Foolish.”
Timu and Phyro looked at her, uncomprehending.
But Théra was thinking, Is she talking about Mother or Queen Gin?
“Gin, Jia, please,” said Kuni.
Jia turned her eyes away from Gin and looked straight ahead.
Gin straightened her back, her sword gently scraping against the floor.
“I hear that you canceled the plan to renovate the palace in Nokida this year, Gin,” said the empress, her voice as calm as the stone pool in the garden for the birds to bathe in. “Is the treasury of Géjira in need of assistance?”
“I thank Your Imperial Majesty for being so solicitous of me,” replied Gin. “But Géjira is doing just fine. I follow the example of the emperor: A fine palace for me is not as important as the welfare of the people.”
“Then you’re to be commended for upping your contribution to the Imperial Treasury this year without increasing the burden on the people,” said the empress, now a trace of mockery creeping into her voice.
“I know my duty,” said Gin evenly.
Though it was impossible to see the expression on Emperor Ragin’s face, the way the crown’s dangling cowrie strands suddenly clinked against each other was audible to those closest to him. Ever sensitive to her husband’s moods, Risana turned to Kuni and almost reached out to hold his hand, but then she remembered where she was and stopped herself at the last moment.
Luan Zya looked at Gin, the grimace on his face growing more pronounced.
“What was that exchange about?” asked Phyro.
“If the emperor has issued an edict to increase port duties, wouldn’t you expect the taxes collected in Géjira, filled with wealthy merchants, to go up?” Soto asked.
The children nodded.
“And the portion of the taxes turned over to the Imperial Treasury from Géjira would also go up,” said Soto.
“Prime Minister Cogo Yelu is wise to have designed a taxation scheme that harmonizes the needs of the emperor with the needs of the provinces and fiefs,” said Timu. “This is just as it should be.”
Soto looked at him. “And you’ve heard nothing in that exchange that you find odd?”
Timu looked back at her, his face confused. “I do not like riddles, Lady Soto.”
Soto sighed inwardly again. Jia has a difficult task in front of her with this child.
Théra jumped in. “Why would Queen Gin have to put off plans to renovate her palace if the tax revenues were up?”
Soto turned to her and smiled. “A very good question.”
Timu struggled to make sense of this. “Are… you accusing Queen Gin of refusing to implement the Imperial edict and paying the expected increase in the portion that is due to the Imperial Treasury out of her own pocket?”
“Your mother did say ‘without increasing the burden on the people,’ remember?”
“But why would she do that?”
I can only explain so much, thought Soto. I can’t hold your hand every step of the way.
But Théra came to her brother’s rescue. “Because she feels the Imperial edict is wrong or because she wants her people to like her—even more than they like Father. Either way, Mother… doesn’t like it.”
“Perhaps we should speak to the next scholar.” Consort Risana broke the silence.
Kindly, she gestured for Naroca Huza—who had been forgotten by everyone—to return to his seat. The young merchant’s son, relieved that his ordeal was over, rushed back to his place among the other pana méji and sat down.
Kuni looked at Risana, who raised her right hand casually and touched the red coral carp earring. The emperor nodded and turned back.
“You may join the College of Advocates,” intoned Kuni. “I suspect your perspective will be of great use to everyone at court.”
This was certainly not the result Naroca had expected. He stood up and bowed deeply to the emperor and sat back down.
Empress Jia resolutely refused to look at him.
Zato Ruthi, stunned by the heated exchange between the empress and Queen Gin, recovered. “Uh… yes. Of course. Next is Zomi Kidosu, of Dasu. Her essay was written in a rough and indelicate hand, yet there was something powerful in the carved logograms that reminded me of the finest stone calligraphers of Xana from centuries ago, who worked with a difficult material in an uncultivated land. I was surprised to find that… that…”
Gin Mazoti looked at him, amused. Back when Zato Ruthi had been the King of Rima, he had repeatedly declared his disapproval of Kuni Garu’s choice of a woman as the Marshal of Dasu, citing Moralist adages about the proper relation between the sexes. However, after the emperor made it clear that he intended to open up the examinations to women and that as Imperial Tutor, he was to teach all the princes and princesses the same curriculum, he had managed to discover new support in Kon Fiji’s writings that suggested at least highborn women were sometimes suitable for scholarship. Ancient texts were apparently as malleable in the hands of a master scholar as lumps of warm wax, able to bear any construction.
Still, old habits died hard. He must have been pretty surprised to find out that one of the ten pana méji selected by him and the other judges was a woman.
“Ahem.” Ruthi cleared his throat and went on. “Her essay was bold and original, harmonizing the Fluxists with the Moralists in a way I have never seen before. I think her proposal for reviving the simpler rituals of the Ano sages of old is well worth listening to.”
Zomi stood up from the back row of seated scholars.
Whispers and murmurs passed among the assembled ministers and generals. Consort Risana looked puzzled while the empress frowned.
The most surprised of all, however, were Luan Zya and Kado Garu.
She made it! Luan suppressed the urge to jump up and shout in joy.
Who is she? Kado thought over the list of names he had been sent….
When she had been kneeling, the sad state of Zomi’s attire had been hidden, but now that she was standing and the center of attention, the shabbiness of her clothing was on full display. The hem of her plain hempen robe was frayed, and her leggings showed through a rip. Bits of a harness around her left leg also peeked out, which explained her limping gait.
Luan Zya looked over at her and offered an encouraging smile. She smiled back.
“Why are you dressed so poorly?” asked Emperor Ragin.
“Because I am poor,” said Zomi.
Zato Ruthi glared at the officials behind the kneeling scholars, who were supposed to be in charge of teaching the pana méji court protocol for today.
“We offered to buy her a formal dress for today,” said one of them in a trembling voice, “but she refused.”
“A piece of jade wrapped in a dust rag remains a piece of jade,” said Zomi. “But dog turds wrapped in silk will still stink up the room.”
After a stunned moment of silence, Consort Risana’s laughter rang out in the Grand Audience Hall. The other pana méji, finally realizing that they had been insulted, turned to stare at Zomi angrily.
Smiling behind the curtain of cowrie strands, Kuni leaned forward and said, “Why don’t you share with all of us your proposal for reforming Dara?”