Chapter Five Kai #2
“Too many nobles own shares in too many estates,” Goshira agreed, “in the provinces. Yet, they’ve never seen them.
They’re happy to get their little pebbles and their rents and dividends, in produce, rice, or gold, or what have you…
lets them sit on their little cushions and drink tea and be bored in comfort. ”
He rubbed his bottom with a grin. “I’m not immune, of course. I do it too. So, perhaps your father Zusho is wiser than the rest of us! Ah, the tea.”
After a moment, Kai presented the poem she’d written as a token of respect. “I’m afraid I’ve only little skill, but I thought you might appreciate the sentiment…”
“Of course,” he said, unrolling the fine paper. “Ah.”
in the evening light,
cicadas
fall silent
the sound of one breath,
sound of the world
held, the wind goes still –
watching
the moon above
“It’s a response to my uncle,” she began.
Goshira nodded. “Yes, I saw it: his ‘Summer’s Gazing at the Moon’.
Wonderful, just wonderful. You have great talent.
And your calligraphy is excellent, you should be very proud.
” He folded it carefully into the envelope, eyes never leaving hers.
“Now, perhaps, to business. How are you enjoying this little capital of ours?”
“It’s – strange,” Kai said honestly. “I have these memories, from when I was a child… the orange tree by the emperor’s hall, the pines and the little lake by the South Gate…
I have these memories and when I see them now, it’s like I see two places at once: the place that I remember, that meant love and mother and playing under trees.
And the place that is now, which seems… different. Smaller, I suppose.”
“The homes of childhood do often seem so small, when we return to them. I understand what you’re saying. I’ve experienced it myself.”
“I’m here to look for allies,” she said abruptly. It was time she saw if the retired-emperor could assist her, or not. “People who remember what my family used to be… and might want to help.”
The Chiten’s eyes gleamed, deep as pools.
“Yes… I do read much into this poem, Kai Gekko’in.
This little poem about change. Oh yes. The cicadas: for years they remain underground, building themselves, but slowly…
And now they emerge under a waxing moon.
Be very careful, Lady Kai. No matter how long the cicada spends its time underground, its life in the sun is ever brief.
The passage between birth and death is but a blink of the eye. ”
“Better than having never been born at all,” she said. “Or being… forced to remain underground, never seeing the sun.”
“Oh, my lady…” He fell quiet. “I understand you’ve come to seek reinstatement of your lands. From the chancellor, no less. Brave of you to ask.”
“I don’t feel I have a choice.”
He hummed. “Memories of war do not fade easily in this city. You have a right, of course. But, if I may offer you a lesson, one ruler to another: you walk a dangerous line, revealing this to Seikiyo. He does not want your family to come back. You have my support, of course, for I’ve decided that, whatever happened, I wish you and your family only well. You do deserve your time in the light.”
He paused, considering her gift. “You understand, I can’t say anything on an official basis. However. Meet with my older son, the mirror prince, Nioh. The two of you might have some things to talk about.”
“Why?” Kai asked, slowly. “Is he a… cicada too?”
Goshira broke into a smile. “Oh. My dear. You are a smart one, aren’t you?
My lesson, lady, is about the future of our country.
” His eyes moved to the poem in its envelope again.
“And the provinces. Let us say you are a ruler of the realm.
You cannot control the far-provinces alone, so you need help.
Due to the accumulation of loyal houses and the defeat of some, oh, rebels far off, your empire has gathered quite a bit of land.
This is good. But, as administrator, you need to find a way to support that land. That means you must have revenue.
“And, unfortunate though it may be—” he eyed her, knowing she had no interest in accounting, “that revenue is just as important as the support of your friends. This is why I’ve always envied you warrior houses; you have such strong bonds.
The scholars of the west say, hierarchy in the universe is absolute – but what, I ask, is stronger than the bond of friend to friend?
Nothing. Not master to servant, certainly not brother to brother, not always, for how many brothers have turned on one another?
Even fathers to their sons, mothers, their daughters…
Why, a war was fought between fathers and sons, and that was to stop the demon-emperor from taking power. ”
“That was when you came to the throne,” Kai said.
“Indeed it was. This is another reason why I admire you warriors. Because, you understand, someone in my position, in order to maintain these lands, these far provinces, I need a peacekeeping force. That’s what the state is, after all, is it not?”
“Scholars say the empire is the only legitimate source of warfare. All else is rebellion.”
“So it is,” he said. “So it is. I’m glad to see you’ve learned of the art of war. So – tell me, how do I solve my problem? I need revenue to pay my troops, but I need troops to collect my revenue. A circle, no?”
He’s testing me, she thought. He’s testing what I know.
“You give the warriors some land,” she answered.
“They become your vassals. They get paid in the form of the land you award them, and they’re in your service, for their status and their holdings are now linked to yours through what they’ve promised in homage.
They keep some of the lots for themselves, keep some of the money, and in return, your lands are governed. Safe.”
He said, “Exactly so.”
“That’s how my family came into the east,” she said. “That system. Only now – I wonder if it still works.”
“Of course it works.”
He smiled, but his eyes said, Keep going. This is the test.
“You’ve been encouraging the lords to grow stronger,” she said. “I thank you for it, but I have to wonder – why?”
The Chiten’s former joviality seemed a ploy now, given the new, strange light that came into his eyes. “Strength,” he said, “must be met with strength. Should the… need arise. Even now I have business that requires it. All around this country. In the islands. In the Inner Sea. In the east…”
As to that, he said nothing more.
“However,” he continued, “the way to rule is not through violence. Maybe in a war, perhaps. Yes: violence. But… what do you do, once you get there? You can’t keep killing people.
No. The true way of ruling is through logistics.
That is my lesson, inane as it may seem…
All the armies of the world won’t matter if you cannot feed them; all the power under gods will be useless if the farmers cannot grow their crops…
or if you can’t find a way to distribute them.
“Power,” he said, “is a system. Like the joints of a great waterwheel: it’ll never work if any one joint tries to do it all alone.”
He watched her, as though to ensure she was paying attention. Yes, she thought. This encounter seemed, somehow, like a test.
Like he was gauging her for some secret need that was yet to be revealed.
“That is what the Keishi have forgotten,” he said. “Or, at least, what they seem to have ignored.” He learned forward, dark eyes gazing at her poem once again. “So, it is as you said. How long will the system last? Before it falls?”