“Men can certainly fall prey to the same disease. Indeed, Phin Zyndu was entrapped by Kikomi’s feminine wiles.”
“But you also speak of Phin Zyndu’s bravery and long-suffering preparation for vengeance, and the Hegemon’s courtship of Kikomi is but a single episode in the storytellers’ expansive repertoire based on his life. On the other hand, the women of history are defined by the men they loved. We never hear anything about Lady Mira except that she killed herself out of love for the Hegemon—Fara, did you know that Lady Mira’s art was once desired by all the nobles of Çaruza?—and we never talk about Kikomi except as a seductress blinded by love, though she was one of the most important leaders of the rebellion. Talent can wear a dress as well as a robe. Why the discrepancy?”
“Hmmm…” Zato Ruthi was at a loss for words.
“You see the patterns you expect to see, Master, and I believe Kikomi took advantage of that tendency—not just in you, but in the soldiers who rushed into Phin Zyndu’s bedroom. To accomplish her goals, she chose to sacrifice her own good name.”
“That is an act of great courage and wisdom to attribute to a woman….”
“Master, you once misjudged a woman’s ability to fight a war, and you lost your throne. I say this not as an insult, but as a reminder that the lessons of history are not always easy to see. I can never prove to the satisfaction of all that my theory is right, but I choose to believe my version because it’s more interesting.”
She sat back in mipa rari, fully expecting to be berated by her teacher for bringing up a painful episode in his life.
After a long silence, Ruthi bowed down to Théra.
Surprised, Théra bowed back.
“The proudest moment in a teacher’s life,” said Ruthi, “is when he learns something new from his student.”
Quietly, the empress stood outside the instruction hall, listening to the proceedings within.
To accomplish her goals, she chose to sacrifice her own good name.
She smiled bitterly. History was full of tales of rival queens plotting palace intrigue for the benefit of their children, and that was how they would tell her story.
But they would be wrong, so very wrong.
She loved the people of Dara, and they would hate her. That was the price to be paid for truly grand and interesting ideas.
As the children continued to converse with their tutor, Jia silently walked away.
Chatelain Otho Krin came into the work shed.
“The messengers have returned, Lady Jia.” That was what he always called her in private.
Jia came up to him and gave him a quick kiss.
“The donations were delivered successfully,” Otho said. “But though I am in charge of the palace budget, I don’t think I can find any more money without raising suspicion.”
“I will find you more funds,” declared Jia. “You’re certain that neither the leaders of the Hegemon cult nor the farseers know the source of the money?”
Otho nodded. “I was very careful never to reveal my identity to the messengers.”
“Rin watches Tunoa closely. It couldn’t have been easy to sneak the money in.”
“It would have been difficult without Lady Ragi’s idea of using a traveling folk opera troupe as messengers.”
A smile flitted across Jia’s face. Ragi was one of her former ladies-in-waiting, who had married Gori Ruthi, Zato Ruthi’s nephew and Under Minister of Transport and Carriage. “Ragi always did like the traveling shows. Do you remember how when she was a girl in Çaruza, she begged you and me to take her to the shows even when the Hegemon placed me under house arrest?”
The memory of those more dangerous but also more carefree days made Otho’s heart throb with pain. He shook off the reminiscences and continued, “Rin Coda’s spies keep a close eye on shipping through the ports by merchants and large landowners as well as the bigger smuggling gangs, but they rarely pay attention to itinerant entertainers, especially the women. The actresses recommended by Lady Ragi were able to hide the funds and other goods in prop trunks and bring them into Tunoa without Duke Coda’s spies ever suspecting that anything was amiss—it also helped that the troupe had a letter of introduction from Lady Ragi’s husband.”
“So many men think of women as mere props and entertainers,” said Jia. “It’s easy to hide in their blind spots.”
Otho flinched. He didn’t like it when Jia spoke like this, so cold and calculating. But he was in love with her, and love made it necessary to ignore certain feelings.
“How did they get them into the hands of the cult leaders?”
“This was slightly trickier, but the opera troupe was able to sell one of their actresses to an indigo house, again hiding the goods in her trunk. When one of the cult leaders came to visit, she was able to give everything to him without making it appear that she was doing so. Once the deed was done, the troupe redeemed her freedom and they went on their way.”
Jia nodded. “Clever. I’m sure he’s as blind as Rin’s spies.” But her elation soon faded as she clenched her fists in frustration. “Now if only those fools would make use of all the resources I’ve given them! I can’t do everything for them.”
“What do you want me to do with the opera troupe?”
“Give them the promised pay,” said Jia. “And also this.” She handed him a few paper packets. “Tell them it’s a formula for experiencing communion with the gods—it will be true if they try it, at least for a while.”
Otho nodded and did not ask for more information. He had decided long ago that not knowing all the details of what Jia planned was best for his peace of mind. One time he had seen one of the messengers running naked through the street, screaming that he was burning up from the inside before throwing himself under the hooves of a team of spooked horses. Another time he had heard rumors of men who had died in the throes of passion in an indigo house. Jia was creative with her formulations.
“Just to be sure,” she added, “leak the fact that the troupe is flush with money to a few gangs of thieves.”
Sometimes he felt that he didn’t understand her at all, but she needed him, and he would always be there for her.
“Don’t be troubled in your conscience, Otho.” Jia graced him with a regal smile. “I have tried to explain what I’m doing to you, but politics is not your natural realm. Trust that I act to protect the dream of Dara, the fragile peace that Kuni and I have built.”
And seeing that Otho was unconvinced, she affectionately wrapped her arms around him. “Then try this: Know that I act out of love for Kuni, even if he would not understand. Love makes us do strange things.”
Otho nodded. He could understand that sentiment.
As Théra and Kuni worked in the garden-farm, Consort Risana strolled by and stopped.
“I was just looking for you, Kuni!” she called out.
“Auntie Risana,” Théra said. “Sorry I can’t greet you properly. I’m a bit muddy at the moment.”
Risana waved to indicate that it was all right. “It’s so nice to see you two enjoying the spring sun together. I wish Hudo-tika would join you.”
“Hunting is good exercise, too,” said Kuni.
He wiped his sweaty face with a towel and left the field to join his wife.
“You look like you have some good news to share,” he said, smiling.
“I do indeed. Cogo has looked at my draft proposal for model leases between landlords and tenant farmers and thought it a good idea.”
“Of course he would,” said Kuni. “Standard lease terms will help curb the sort of abuses that Zomi Kidosu spoke of, and place the tax burden where it belongs. Getting the nobles to promulgate these models in their domains will be trickier, however. They’ll view it as more Imperial interference in their affairs.”