She handed the cored seeds to Fara and Théra, who thanked her and put them in their mouths. The taste was exquisite: cool, refreshing, sweet but not too sweet.
Fara laughed and splashed her feet in the water. “I think having fresh lotus seeds you didn’t pay for should be added to your list of greatest pleasures.”
Théra sighed.
The lady looked at her, amused. “What’s the matter now?”
“My heart grows bitter… at the thought of a future I can’t master.”
“No one can master the future,” said the lady, “not even the gods. But let me tell you a story. On Arulugi, the teahouses prepare a delicacy by filling the cored lotus seeds with various foods using a toothpick: mango paste, thin bits of bacon, crab roe, apple-flavored shaved ice, sea salt, and so forth. The mixed seeds are then served in a large dish to a group of guests, and everyone enjoys the surprise of whichever flavor they happen to pick up.”
“What if someone left an uncored seed in as a joke?” said Fara while making a face.
“I see that I can’t have you help me out at dinner parties,” said the lady, her laughter crisp and cool. “The Fluxists like to speak of a heart of emptiness as an ideal state. With a heart of emptiness, there is also infinite potential for the future: joy, anger, sorrow, happiness. How we fill our hearts has much to do with our fates, far more than our native talents, the circumstances of our birth, the vicissitude of fortune, or even the intervention of the gods. If you do not like the stories you’ve been told, fill your heart with new stories. If you do not like the script you’ve been given, design for yourself new roles.”
I am named Dissolver of Sorrows, thought Théra. When the bitterness in my heart has been dissolved, what is left is potential.
She looked at the lady, imagining her own heart growing lighter, more hollowed out and spacious. She was pretty sure now she knew who the lady was. It was a moment of wonder, to be so close to the presence of the numinous. “I have found a new pleasure in life: hearing you speak for an hour.”
The lady chuckled. “Each of the pleasures I mentioned is better with a friend. A real friend is a mirror that reflects the truth back to us.”
“A mirror?” For a moment Théra’s heart grew heavy again as she recalled how Zomi Kidosu had impatiently brushed her off. Who was her real friend? But then she remembered the strange mirrors that were troubling her father.
An impulse seized her to make the most of this encounter with a goddess—that was the most interesting choice, wasn’t it? “What can you tell me about the nature of smooth mirrors that can conjure ghosts?”
“Ah, I see I’m dealing with a mind as subtle and willful as your mother’s,” said the lady. “I suppose it wouldn’t be breaking the rules, not exactly, for me to tell you another metaphor.”
The lady tossed one of the lotus seeds at the lake. Just as it was about to make contact with water, a golden carp hopped out of the water and captured it with its mouth. The carp then stayed near the surface to wait for more food, bobbing up and down in the water and creating an expanding series of concentric waves.
“What a pretty fish,” Fara cried out.
“My favorite creature,” said the lady. “But watch the ripples.”
The ripples expanded until they struck the straight edge of the wharf, which reflected them back toward the center of the lake in a new series of concentric waves. The waves from the carp and the reflection intermingled, forming an interlocking pattern.
“That looks just like the scales on the fish,” said Théra.
“When the crests of the two waves are added together, the result is a higher wave. When the troughs of the waves overlap, the result is a deeper trough. When the crest of the one meets the trough of the other, the two cancel out. And that is the cause of the pattern,” said the lady.
“Is this a metaphor about friendship?” asked Théra. “That our strengths may strengthen each other and make up for our faults, but our faults added together may also lead to a worse result. It is thus best to have many friends.”
“You are a good student,” said the lady. “That is a lesson I had not even intended. I only meant that you should think about waves and reflection, for light, in its true nature, shares much with these waves.”
Théra wasn’t sure she understood, but she watched the waves and tried to memorize the pattern.
They ate lotus seeds until it was late and the girls had to go home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
TESTS AND COUNTERTESTS
“Is it taken care of?” asked Jia.
Chatelain Otho Krin nodded. “The mirror makers have been silenced.”
“And the workshop burnt so that no trace of their secret remains?”
A wave of nausea struck Otho Krin. Even when he was a bandit, he had not liked the sight of blood. He had hoped Jia would comfort him, but that was not to be. It seemed to him she was changing more and more from the woman he had known, but he pushed the thought aside. Lady Jia—the empress, he silently corrected himself—had always known the right thing to do, and he was going to help her, no matter how he felt about the details.
Love demanded sacrifices.
“And the other thing?” Jia asked.
“An anonymous note was passed to Duke Coda’s spies. The ship from Arulugi will be searched on arrival at Tunoa.”
Jia let out a held breath. “Once Rin’s men begin to focus on Théca Kimo, be sure to let Kimo know. I will do what I can to help things along.” She put a hand against Otho Krin’s cheek. “You’ve done much for the future of Dara. The people may not know or understand, but know that you have my gratitude.”
And Otho was again reminded of the very first time he had met Jia, and how she had made his heart feel grand and full of courage.
You’re loyal, Jia had said. That’s not nothing.
Otho Krin bowed. “All I care about is your good opinion.”
Kuni paced in the private audience chamber. He stopped from time to time to scrutinize the new letter from Tunoa held in his trembling hands, though he had already read it so many times that he could recite it from memory.
“Perhaps Phyro is wrong,” offered Jia.
“Phyro might be young,” said Risana protectively. “But Duke Coda is very careful. He would not support Phyro in making such an accusation without ironclad proof.”
“Still,” said Jia, “a charge like this against one of the emperor’s most loyal followers is extraordinary.”
“I have always trusted Théca,” mumbled Kuni.
“You have indeed, and your trust has served you well. But trust is a fragile string; sometimes kites do break loose and set out on their own,” said Jia.
“Perhaps you should summon Gin Mazoti?” asked Risana.
“That might be awkward,” said Jia. “If the charge turns out to be false, a preemptive strike would chill the hearts of all the nobles loyal to the emperor.”
“What do you propose then?” asked Kuni.
“If Théca Kimo were really supplying the rebels in Tunoa with weapons, he must be observing your movements with care. You could announce a tour of the Islands, starting with a visit to the Karo Peninsula, across from Arulugi. Ask Than Carucono to accompany you with a sizable detachment of Imperial forces. If Kimo is innocent, he will do nothing. But if he really is planning to rebel…”