“Big Sister,” said Risana in admiration, “you’re as wily as Luan Zya. This is like one of my old smokecraft tricks. Kimo will see a mirage, and how he reacts will tell us what is truly in his heart.”
Reluctantly, Kuni nodded.
“You’re still undecided?” asked Cano Tho, commander of the Arulugi palace guards.
He and his lord, Duke Théca Kimo, sat in a small flat-bottomed boat in the middle of Lake Toyemotika, the only boat this far out from shore. There was a slight drizzle, and the mist made the stalk-like buildings and vine-suspended platforms of the city of Müning in the distance indistinct like a watercolor sketch.
Duke Théca Kimo said nothing but drained his cup. One might have expected it to be filled with one of the thousand varieties of orchid-bamboo-shoot tea that Arulugi was known for, or some expensive wine from one of Faça’s ancient vineyards, as befitting one of Kimo’s station, but instead, it was filled with the cheap, burning sorghum liquor favored by the poor of Dara.
“The emperor’s intent could not be any clearer,” said Cano.
“Do we have any more roasted pork?” asked Théca.
Silently, Cano opened the basket at his feet and refilled the dish on the low table between them. Both of them were sitting in thakrido, like a pair of gangsters instead of the cultured elite of an island known for its grace.
In truth, Kimo had never felt at home in Arulugi, the Beautiful Island. He had earned the fief by conquering it during the wars between Emperor Ragin and the Hegemon, at the direction of Marshal Gin Mazoti. But though he was its master, he had always felt like an unwelcome peasant in a wealthy man’s house. The hereditary nobles of Müning might bow to him and speak to him reverently, but he could feel them whispering behind him, laughing quietly at his uncouth ways and the tattoos on his face that revealed his past as a convicted felon—how dare they! He could have slaughtered them all instead of allowing them to keep their estates. He found himself grasping for topics of conversation with his wives, highborn ladies of the old Amu nobility, and all three seemed to prefer one another’s company to his. He found orchid-bamboo-shoot tea and the elaborate ceremonies around it fussy, and the singing and dancing of the girls in the teahouses and the ducal palace—formal, stately, and full of obscure allusions to Amu’s illustrious past—usually put him to sleep.
“The airships make passes over the shores of Arulugi and the Amu Strait daily, and a naval fleet is gathering in the strait,” said Cano. “Than Carucono has amassed his troops on the Karo Peninsula. Do you not understand what this means?”
“The emperor wants to tour the Islands. Some security measures are perfectly reasonable,” said Kimo. “The emperor is trusting and honorable, and since I’ve cut off the supplies for Noda Mi and Doru Solofi, he’ll not act against me.”
Though he was the most powerful man on the island, and his word was law, he did not find the administration of a realm to his liking. He liked shiny treasure, greasy food, the company of loose women and brawling men—not the minutiae of tax policy and implementing Imperial decrees via detailed regulations. Yet now that the world was at peace, the only outlet for his energy was hunting for elephants on Écofi or wild boars on Crescent Island. But his ministers, steeped in the Moralism of Kon Fiji or the Incentivism of Gi Anji, lectured him incessantly on how a proper ruler should be more dedicated to the welfare of his subjects and not waste all his time in the slaughter of defenseless animals—defenseless! Have they ever faced a charging bull elephant?
Thank the blessed and luscious Tututika that he still had Cano Tho, the only man who was willing to accept him as he was instead of judging him. That was why he had always listened to his counsel.
He regretted that decision now. He had never thought Noda Mi and Doru Solofi would succeed in their mad scheme, and he had flat-out refused their invitation for him to rebel against Kuni. He had even thought he would capture the two and send them to Pan, with their arms bound behind them to show his loyalty.
But Cano had convinced him to let them go, arguing that the men were harmless and revealing a plot against the emperor in his realm would only invite more scrutiny against Arulugi. Instead, Cano had suggested that he sell surplus weapons to the two.
“The Imperial Treasury has cut off funding for the armies of the independent fiefs,” said Cano. “You’ll have no choice but to reduce the size of the army.”
Kimo had not liked that prospect. The army, after all, was the foundation of his throne.
“If you don’t think Noda and Doru would ever amount to much, what’s the harm in selling them weapons to help maintain your army? But should Noda and Doru become more than a nuisance, the emperor will surely call upon you to suppress their rebellion, thereby confirming your value to the Imperial throne.”
Kimo liked scenarios where he always came out ahead, no matter what happened.
Unfortunately, the rebels were successful, but it was Prince Phyro, not he, who was called upon to suppress them. And though he had cut off all further dealings with the rebels, Duke Coda’s spies were now swarming the island, looking for evidence that he had been part of the plot. He dared not speak of it with any of his ministers in the ducal palace, afraid that some of them were already working for the Farsight Secretary, just waiting for him to slip up.
Once more, he drained his cup, savoring the burning sensation of the liquor going down his gullet. He yearned for sleep and for dreams in which he could revisit the times of glory, when he had slept in the open with a saddle as his pillow, and the shedding of blood was not seen as some kind of sin but the true measure of a man. He had once killed a king! Yet now he was cowering on a boat in the middle of a lake to complain about his fate in secret.
Another small boat emerged from the mist and drizzle and sailed closer. A man in a raincoat woven from banana and lotus leaves stood at the stern, holding on to the long single oar. Around his neck he wore a necklace of shark’s teeth—rather incongruous on this tranquil, freshwater lake. At his feet were a basket and several fishing rods. Not recognizing the duke and the captain, the man waved at them in a friendly gesture, and continued to sing in his loud, hoarse voice.