“Hmmm.”
“I’ve never seen you at a loss for words before,” said a grinning Luan.
“You’re actually making Kon Fiji sound like… a true sage.”
Luan laughed. “I haven’t always given you the fairest presentation of the Moralists, I suppose, and that is my fault. But just as the four major schools of philosophy and the Hundred Schools of minor branches of learning all have something to teach us, it is a balance between the new and the old that we must strive for.”
“I thought we’re striving for Truth.”
“We’re not gods; we can’t always tell truth from error, and so it’s better to be cautious.”
Zomi looked at the logograms Luan had carved on the ground, unconvinced.
Hidden by the misty woods, Képulu and Séji shouted excitedly from some distance ahead. Luan and Zomi hurried to follow the voices, and the air around them was filled with the acrid smell of smoke and fire.
Growing worried, Luan wanted to stop and assess the situation, and he called out for Zomi to slow down. Still a bit uncoordinated, she stumbled ahead on her brace but refused to heed Luan’s admonitions. Luan had no choice but to rush to follow behind.
They emerged into a narrow clearing like a scar in the forest.
And a scar it was. The volcanic eruption had carved a burnt tongue into the green flesh of the mountain. The thick, ropy solidified lava, like the mythical River-on-Which-Nothing-Floats, should have been devoid of life and vegetation. It would take years before life would recover in this inhospitable landscape.
But instead of a black surface filled with folds and twists like the shell of a giant walnut, the lava flow was bright red, as though it was still fresh from the depth of the earth. The smell of smoke and burning was overwhelming.
Startled, Luan reached out to pull Zomi back from danger before noticing that Képulu and Séji were dancing in the middle of the burning lava.
“Those are flowers!” said Zomi, and she pulled free of Luan and danced onto the bright red lava flow.
Luan looked again and realized that indeed, the entire surface of the lava flow was filled with a carpet of bright red plants. Each plant was about a foot high, and shaped like spikes of hyacinth. The leaves, stems, and flowers were all fiery crimson, with bunches of scarlet berries dangling from spikes where the flowers had wilted.
Luan plucked some of the berries and found them to have a hard finish, almost like lacquered beads. The flowers exuded a strong fragrance that was spicy and smoky, as though the plants were burning. The smell from the berries was fainter, but still strong. The entire plant was like a miniature flame.
“Careful of the fumes,” said Luan. “Don’t breathe in too deeply. I’m no expert herbalist, but such strong and unusual smells generally indicate poison or mind-altering capabilities.”
Képulu and Séji carefully gathered some of the plants for their collection. Luan looked at the specimens they showed him and saw that the roots, also a faint red, spread out like strands of spider silk and clung to the inhospitable rocky surface. Only with a faint pop did the roots detach from the rocky surface. This was a tenacious plant that made its home where no other flower dared to tread, a floral pioneer.
“What are these called?” asked Zomi.
“The eruption occurred sometime last fall, and our guides say that they have never seen this plant before. It is a brand-new discovery!”
Képulu and Séji chattered excitedly at Luan, and then made a please gesture. Seeing the confusion on his face, they quickly sculpted some logograms on the ground. Luan grinned.
“They’ve asked me to give this plant a name. That’s a high honor.”
“What will you name it then?” Zomi asked.
Luan pondered the plant and smiled. “Since this fiery plant is so impatient to explore lands where others fear to tread, why don’t we name it zomi, for Pearl of Fire?”
Zomi laughed, delighted, and gathered more of the berries to stuff into her pocket. “I will make a necklace of these to wear.”
Luan stood up, thinking that he would ask the guides to gather more of the plants for study back at the hamlet, but the faces of the women, frozen in shock, made him pause. He turned to look in the direction of their gazes and saw thick columns of smoke rising in the direction they had come from.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A REBELLION OF SCHOLARS
Kuni turned around on the throne and called out, “Théra? Is Timu with you too?”
A moment later, a quivering male voice replied, “Rénga, your faithful servant is here. I am terribly sor—ARGH—mmf—”
The muffled gurgles—as though a hand had been clamped over his mouth—played a bass line to the whispering voices of other children engaged in urgent debate, with occasional phrases loud enough to be heard by the assembled Lords of Dara.
“…shut up… the plan…”
“…I’m not leaving…”
“…obey!… Big Sister… trust me…”
“…better together… no essays… my fingers will fall off…”
And a four-year-old’s girlish giggles punctuated it all.
The atmosphere in the Grand Audience Hall now resembled that of a children’s playroom. Jia and Risana looked mortified; the ministers and generals and nobles struggled to maintain serious miens, their bodies shaking with suppressed laughter.
Zato Ruthi trembled with rage as he stood up and headed for the changing room behind the throne dais with long strides, his hands fumbling through the folds of his robe for the ferule that he usually kept with him—though regretfully he had left it in his room today because it interfered with the clean outline of his formal court attire.
But Kuni gestured for him to sit back down.
“You might as well all come in,” the emperor called out. The urgent whispering of the children ceased. “This is a formal occasion where the presence of children is usually unwelcome, but I think Timu, at least, is old enough now to be exposed to more affairs of state.”
The heavy curtains behind the throne parted, and the children streamed out with Lady Soto at the end.
“Children go where they will,” said Soto, as though that explained everything.
Kuni nodded. “They do have quick feet. Perhaps the gods led them here today for a reason.” After a pause, he added, a hint of a smile in his voice, “A child who takes no risks is not going to lead an interesting life.”
“I’m so sorry, Father,” said Théra. “Fara is too young to know better, and I was too caught up in the game to realize she was hiding in a room she wasn’t supposed to be in.”
Fara took in the large number of people in the hall and then buried her cute, innocent face in the skirt of the dress of her big sister, who put her arms around her in comfort.
“So many people here, Da,” said Phyro. “We had no idea!” He also looked around, hamming it up by opening his eyes as wide as saucers.
Kuni pushed the strands of cowries dangling in front of his face aside and smiled at Phyro. “The Lords of Dara are here to celebrate scholarship. You should be inspired by their example and be more diligent!”
“Rénga,” said Timu, bowing deeply. He was very nervous—as he always was—in front of his father, and though his lips kept on moving, no more sound would emerge.