But she knew that it would be a disaster if Phyro were to become the emperor. It was up to her to see that future never come to pass, not just for the sake of Timu and herself, but all of Dara.
“I have an idea,” Jia said. “The best way to tell who is most suited to rule is to observe them in practice—a friendly competition, if you will.”
Kuni chuckled. “It is good that we have only two princes to worry about.”
Years ago—after the death of Consort Fina—Kuni, Jia, and Risana had all agreed that Jia should prepare herbs for both wives that would prevent further pregnancies. Even with the skill of someone like Jia at hand, childbirth was an extraordinarily dangerous event for women, and Kuni didn’t want to see anyone else close to him die in that manner. There were enough children, he had declared, and though he didn’t voice it aloud, he was perhaps also worried about more children intensifying future rivalries over succession.
“A kingdom is not as large as the empire, but it has similar problems on a smaller scale. It would be good for the princes to get some experience at ruling.” Jia sipped her tea. “Just like a shadow puppet play can portray the world in miniature, the princes can play at being the Emperor’s shadows.”
“The Emperor’s Shadows,” mused Kuni. “I like it. Where do you suggest the princes be given their realms?”
“Kado is not doing much in Dasu,” said Jia. “In fact, I get the feeling that he would be perfectly content to retire from the throne in favor of one of his nephews. You might as well leave Kado and his family with a hereditary title with no fief—they’ll be taken care of, but they won’t have to bother with the responsibility.”
Kuni nodded. He wasn’t particularly close to Kado, and this seemed like a good solution. “Timu or Phyro?”
“Dasu is in need of a ruler with more care for the spiritual and intellectual development of its population,” said Jia. “Advocate Kidosu had said as much. I think Timu would be more suited for the fief, and Imperial Tutor Zato Ruthi can assist him.”
The suggestion made sense to Kuni. “What about Phyro?”
Risana tensed and disguised her anxiety by sipping from her cup. She regretted not seizing the opening earlier to suggest that Phyro be an apprentice of sorts for Gin Mazoti—that would have given Phyro the experience he needed as well as bringing him even closer to the most powerful general in the realm. But Jia now had the initiative, and she could do nothing but wait.
Jia looked thoughtful. “This is the Year of the Wolf, potentially a time of strife and danger. Since forces loyal to the Hegemon are plotting mischief in Tunoa, why not send Phyro to the new fief and give him the power to fully pacify the land? Rin Coda could be his adviser. After all, you cannot fight all your sons’ battles for them.”
Risana turned over Jia’s suggestion in her mind. She could find no fault with it. Both Dasu and Tunoa were similar in size and population (indeed, Tunoa was slightly bigger). Jia’s idea matched the skills of both princes with local needs, and it really did seem that she was trying to do the best for both boys. “I’m grateful for your thoughtful care for our children,” said Risana.
“I’m only doing my duty,” said Jia. “You’re the sister I never had.”
And the three continued to drink tea and admire the lovely lake laid out beneath them. Between the sky and the water, the airship was a single pearl that connected everything to everything else in a web of light.
The announcement of the Emperor’s Shadows set all of Pan abuzz.
Many wondered whether this meant that the emperor was thinking of a bigger role for the princes to play—and a smaller one for himself; some praised the decision to send Prince Timu to focus on the cultural development of Dasu; others worried that the appointment of Prince Phyro indicated a rise in the dissatisfaction of old nobles with Emperor Ragin’s rule; still others thought of the whole thing as an episode in some exciting shadow puppet show, wherein rival princes built independent bases of power at the ends of Dara.
Lady Soto was reading to Fara in the western end of the garden when Jia came down the path, a small basket in hand.
“Aunt Empress,” said Fara. She stood up and bowed in deep jiri.
“Go on and play by yourself in the orchard,” said Soto. “I’ll come and find you later, and we can finish the story.” Fara scooted away, and Soto laid the book down next to her.
Jia glanced at the title on the book. She frowned. “Isn’t Fara a bit too young for the story of the Queen of Écofi and the Seven Princes?”
“Children can deal with bloody tales a lot better than we give them credit for,” said Soto. “It’s real bloodshed that we should save them from.”
Jia inclined her head and considered Soto. The corners of her lips lifted. “Soto, I think we’re far past the time when we need to be playing games. If you have something to say to me, say it.”
Soto took a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to figure out what you’re doing, but I confess I’m stumped.”
Breezily, Jia said, “I’m on my way to the hothouse to pick some oranges for the children.”
“I think I’ve earned the right to be spoken to without jest. I’ve gone through the palace accounts—Chatelain Krin may be careful, but it’s impossible to not leave marks when so much money is involved.”
The smile faded from the empress’s face. “You’re wondering if I’m still trying to ensure that Timu will be the crown prince. The answer is yes.”
“I know that. But I can’t figure out how the Emperor’s Shadows will accomplish that, or what it has to do with your secret diversion of funds from the Imperial Treasury. You once worried that Phyro was going to gain the loyalty of Kuni’s generals with his easy manners and admiration for the martial arts, and I can only imagine you’d try to remedy that by either reducing the power of the generals or by gaining Timu some respect with them. But your plan doesn’t seem to do either of those things.”
“When you try something repeatedly and it doesn’t work, continuing along the same path would be madness.”
Soto took a deep breath. “I’ll always be loyal to you, Jia. But I have affection for all the children. I don’t like to see any of them hurt.”
Jia looked back, her eyes level. “Why is it that a mother’s actions are always assumed to be selfish? I’ve watched all the children grow up together, and I have affection for them all, even if I didn’t give birth to every one. But I’ve also seen blood flow when men grow ambitious and wish to seize by force that which is not theirs. I must do what I can to prevent that future. I am the Empress of Dara, and my first duty is to the people.”
“Do you see such a future with Phyro on the throne?”
Jia looked away for a moment and seemed to come to some decision. “Soto, you chose to serve my husband because you believed that he would give Dara a better future than the Hegemon. Do you still believe that’s true?”
Soto nodded.
“Your belief is the greatest danger of them all.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Like the Hegemon, Kuni places too much faith in personal trust. During the Chrysanthemum-Dandelion War, he allowed Gin Mazoti to declare herself queen, gambling that the gesture of trust would buy her loyalty. He allows each of his nobles to keep an army large enough to bring ruin upon the land, though the Islands are at peace. Like the man he once called brother, Kuni has decided to build his empire upon bonds of trust between him and those who serve him.”