Théra regarded Kuni, biting her bottom lip. Then, steeling herself and standing up very straight, she said, “Father, did you tell Queen Gin during the war that she shouldn’t have gotten all sweaty and sunburnt?”
For a moment, Kuni’s expression was suspended between surprise and embarrassment; then his features relaxed into a smile as he bowed to his daughter. “My apologies, Princess Théra. Strength may wear a robe or a dress. I had not intended an insult, but you’re right, my words were ill considered. You have your mother’s temper and spine, and that is a good thing.”
Théra bowed back deeply in jiri. “My father is a lord of capacious mind.”
Just as they were preparing to return to the stream with their empty buckets, a friendly voice cried out from some distance away, “Luan! What are you doing here?”
Kuni and Théra turned and saw that Rin Coda, Imperial Farsight Secretary, was coming over the arched bridge. He was speaking to Luan Zya, who was standing under the bridge, as though trying to meld into the abutment.
Luan stepped out from the shadow of the bridge and bowed. “My apologies, Rénga. I did not want to intrude upon your private moment with the children.”
“Intrude!” said Rin. “You’re practically family! Though you have been absent for much too long! We must have at least six cups of wine later; I dare say I have a much better liquor collection now, and I’m sorry we haven’t been able to spend much time together for your visit. While you’ve been away, my people have had a very difficult time keeping an eye on you—for protection!—for you’re like an elusive turtle in the ocean, popping up in some town for a few days and then disappearing for months!”
Luan chuckled. “Thank you for your concern for my safety, but perhaps it’s best for our chief spy not to admit in front of the emperor that your employees have been having trouble keeping a simple itinerant scholar under surveillance.”
Rin waved dismissively. “Kuni knows that I keep a close watch on the real troublemakers. I just wanted to be able to get you back here in case some crisis happened and we needed your advice.” As the emperor’s childhood friend, Rin Coda had always gotten away with being very informal with him.
“I’m certain the emperor is surrounded by men and women of far greater wisdom than a simple engineer.”
“Oh, stop that! That sort of excessive humility comes across as bragging!”
Kuni listened to their banter happily. It reminded him of a simpler time.
“Father, I will retire with Ada-tika so that you can discuss matters of state,” said Théra. She knew that when Rin came to speak with her father, it was usually about something secret. She bowed to Luan and Rin in jiri, called for Fara to follow her, and left the Imperial garden for the private quarters of the Imperial family.
Kuni turned to Rin.
“The cashima are still drinking and arguing,” said Rin. “No more trouble from them, for now.” Then he looked contrite as he added, “I’m sorry I had not anticipated the riots.”
Kuni waved dismissively. “It’s all right. I will have to deal with their petition eventually. I’ll talk to Cogo and Zato about how to address the imbalance between the regions. Perhaps a system whereby scholars from regions outside of Haan and Gan are given some bonus points is necessary. It will require some relaxation of the anonymity requirements.”
“Good luck convincing stiff-spined Ruthi of the wisdom of that plan,” said Rin. “He’ll tell you that any candidate who gets in because of extra points will always feel inferior to the candidates from Haan, and thus your cure is worse than the disease.”
“He wouldn’t be entirely wrong,” said Kuni. “That is why this is a difficult problem. But compromise is the lubricant that keeps the machinery of the state running.” Kuni grinned as Luan lifted his eyebrows at this engineering metaphor. “I’ve been saving that for your return.”
Luan laughed. “The emperor is a most interesting lord.”
“You’re already spending so much money in stipends to lure good teachers to move from Haan to the other provinces,” said Rin. “These bookworms don’t seem to realize how much you’ve been doing behind the scenes to address their complaints.”
“It takes as much time to watch a sapling grow into a towering oak as it does to cultivate scholarship in regions without a tradition of learning,” said Kuni. “But young men do not have such patience, and interim measures are needed. Besides, I’m also trying to encourage more children of the poor to attend schools to add to the talent pool, which I’m sure these children of the wealthy will object to as they’ll perceive it as increasing competition. Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. What else do you have to report?”
“Not much. A few deposed nobles are making trouble—two of them actually met recently in Pan. But I don’t think they’ll amount to much. More worrisome is the cult of the Hegemon, which is growing in the Tunoa Islands, and there are signs it’s spreading to other regions. So far, I’ve limited myself to surveillance. Should I do more?”
Kuni’s face darkened, but after a moment he relaxed. “It’s easy for Mata to grow kinder in the people’s memories now that he’s only a ghost haunting Dara and not an insatiable lord who rides from one end of the Islands to the other, demanding tribute in blood.”
“These ingrates—”
“No! As long as they are peaceful, let the worship of my brother grow unimpeded.”
“But Kuni—”
“No. A forceful response would only encourage those who wish me ill. I betrayed Mata on the shores of the Liru because I thought it in service of a greater honor, and if some believe that the House of Dandelion is founded on a sin, I will not confirm their opinion with a vain attempt to dam up the mouths of the people. Mata truly was an extraordinary individual, and veneration of honor and faith is no threat to me.”
To the side, Luan nodded.
“What about the Golden Carp?” asked Kuni.
“It’s been difficult. The parents of the young women sometimes require the most persuasion, especially when they’re wealthy.”
“Then focus on the poor,” said Kuni. “Those enjoying fewer advantages from the way things are may be more ready to be persuaded.”
Rin nodded. “Let me keep at it.” He turned to Luan. “Remember the drinks later—I’ll invite Cogo and Gin along. But first, let me… um… check on something from the empress’s garden.”
He hurriedly bid his farewell and left for Jia’s part of the garden.
Kuni laughed. “Jia is always complaining to me that someone has been taking her happy herbs without permission. I’ve always suspected Rin was the culprit.” He turned around and saw that Luan had a strange look on his face. “What is it?”
“As one without a position at court, I do not think it is my place to comment—”
“Come on,” said Kuni. “Why do we have to play this game? I’ve already indulged your desire to not be entwined in the politics of the court, but can’t I have my old friend speak honestly to me?”
Luan nodded, comforted that his lord still thought of him that way. “Then permit me to speak plainly. It is not good to indulge our appetites unchecked. Though it ought to be celebrated that you’re still so vigorous that you seek out new… beauties, yet I’m reminded of a tale from Pan, after you conquered the palace of Emperor Erishi, when you entered the women’s quarters—”
“What in the world are you talking about?” interrupted Kuni, whose eyes had been growing wider and wider as Luan prattled on.