Chapter 15 Chess Pieces
CHESS PIECES
Towards the end of summer, something strange began to happen: I began to understand the men’s conversations at court.
“While it is true we must obey the Mandate of Heaven,” said a clan leader with a face long like a horse’s, “even you must agree that the emperor’s change of heir was rather sudden.
If His Majesty woke up from his illness, are you so sure that he would not change his mind again?
The Gaoping Emperor of the Liang Dynasty changed his successor three times while in the grip of death.
Those who pledged early were the biggest losers. ”
“That is not always true,” Hesin replied evenly.
“Those who supported the First Emperor from the very beginning, for example, were rewarded in multitudes for their loyalty. Those who joined him later saw no such profit. It is an Aolian teaching even the youngest schoolboy has memorized: an even temperament and a steady heart shall win in the end.”
The clan leader’s face darkened at the subtle chastising, but shortly afterwards, he agreed to continue his allyship with Terren.
After he left, the next guest was sent in.
This time, it was a red-faced soldier, who sighed much more than he spoke.
“We would aid the East Palace during the coronation,” he lamented, “but it is a shame that my army is unworthy. Many of my men are still using old, worn-down swords from our last campaign. Hardly weapons fit for taming a dragon.” A sigh.
“Your Highness deserves a much better army to support him than mine.”
Hesin took the hint. “I will speak with the prince, Captain Zhu, and ask him to outfit four hundred of your men in time for the coronation. Once we are successful, and he has his magic amplified by the Crown, we can discuss the rest of your army.” It was a different tactic entirely than what he had used with the clan leader, and I marveled at how quickly the eunuch was able to adapt.
“What are you staring at?” Sun Jia hissed to me from where we knelt by the wall. “Ogling the captain, are you, village filth? I heard your kind breeds with anything that moves.”
I kept my eyes on Captain Zhu. “I thought you said we are dogs that breed with dirt,” I whispered back. “The last time I checked, dirt does not move.”
After the captain left, a governor from one of the western provinces entered.
His brows were thick and perpetually furrowed.
“The West Palace, I’m afraid, is offering us a greater boon.
The province of Nanbo stretches deep into the Eriet Mountains, where few roads lead.
Prince Maro promised he would build us a route straight to the capital. ”
The old eunuch put on an expression of false sympathy.
“Ah, Governor Yuan. I understand the burden of being near the mountains. Few roads for trading men, but plenty of open space for raiders. I have heard that two of your border cities have been pillaged by the Cividí since spring. It is unfortunate that Prince Maro would not arm you with sharp weapons, and instead promises only more dirt and stones.”
Governor Yuan turned firecracker-red. After a few more rounds of verbal sparring, he was persuaded to back Terren’s Dao seal over Maro’s Lu.
Each meeting, I noted the words I didn’t know. Treaty. Expansionism. Global policy. I memorized the figures they mentioned and the scholars they quoted, so that I could ask Ciyi about them later.
I should not want to understand these things, I knew, things which were meant for the minds of men.
But poetry was truth and emotion. Terren had confirmed it himself.
I suspected that only men got to be literomancers because only they knew the truth.
Perhaps if I were to write a Blessing myself, I needed to know the truth too.
“Who are the factions that support each prince?” I asked Ciyi one evening.
We had finished with The Annals by then, and even The Classics of Heaven and the Ancestors, which was the book he had me read next.
Now we were in the middle of Myths of the West—a fictional epic about demons and men who fought them riding clouds.
The scroll lay open on the table. We had encountered a break in the story, and I had found my mind wandering back to court.
Ciyi frowned at me, the way he always did when I asked questions I was not supposed to be asking. “You keep pushing the boundaries of our agreement.”
“I am growing concerned for our prince, that is all. His brothers fighting for the throne might pose a danger to his life. I wish to understand just how strong their bid for the Crown is.” And how much hope I have of one of them deposing Terren.
I was not sure if Ciyi believed me anymore, when I pretended my questions came from anywhere but my own curiosity. But to his credit, he did not berate me. Instead, he sighed and excused himself. When he returned, it was with a chess set.
“The emperor has produced five seal-bearing sons, each with a different mother.”
The eunuch removed five ceramic tiles and, with a brush pen, inked characters on the backs of four of them. Maro’s roads, Terren’s blades, Isan’s fruit, Kiran’s wind. The fifth tile he left empty, for Ruyi’s unknown sigil.
Dit, dit—he set the tiles onto the board one by one. “Do you know what happens to a prince’s magic when he becomes emperor?”
I nodded. “The one who holds the Crown will have his magic amplified a thousandfold.”
“Right. So as you might imagine, the question of who wins the throne has major implications on the people’s future.
Will the coming years be ruled by economy and trade routes, as will be the case if Maro inherits”—Ciyi moved the 路/Lu tile to one end of the board—“or by military power, if Terren does?” The 刀/Dao tile went to the other end, on the opposite side of the chessboard’s river.
I thought about Isan and his 果/Guo magic, and the peach tree he grew back in Guishan. “Why did the emperor not choose his third son for heir? It seems an obvious choice. His fruit power can help with the famine.”
Ciyi shook his head. “It is not so simple, Lady Yin. When it comes to choosing which seal to amplify, the emperor must balance many external forces. Will the Great Clans approve? Will the magic be strong enough to contest foreign powers? Will it grow the nation’s legacy, so that the next generation will be more prosperous than the last?
And, perhaps most important of all, will it maintain stability within the country?
The last Ash Dynasty prince did not have strong enough support, and the nation was burned from inside by all the infighting and rebellions. ”
I remembered the crowd of men on Selection Day, each gathering next to their allied princes. “Prince Maro has a lot of support. He was popular among the merchants.”
“Right. There are many who back the first son with their coin and army, in hopes of a more trade-oriented future. The merchants, as you say.” Ciyi withdrew a blank tile and slid it towards 路/Lu. “But there are others, as well.”
He drew a handful of fresh tiles. “Since we are in a harsh famine, many of the provinces languish. For their governors, new routes means the ability to connect the poorer districts to the wealthier ones, so that aid and prosperity can be spread faster.” He slid some of them towards 路/Lu.
“But of course, the wealthier provinces—like Chong’an and Sial—don’t want to share.
” Dit, dit—he slid two new tiles towards 刀/Dao.
“Then there are those who want to expand the Salt Road westward, in hopes that more trade with foreign powers will strengthen our nation. Then there are those who wish to fortify our existing borders instead, to ensure that nobody can destroy us while we’re weak.
” Tiles moved to both sides of the river.
Ciyi continued in this way until almost all the blank tiles had been divided.
When he was done, there were far more pieces on the roads side than the blades.
A few tiles were nestled next to fruit or wind, but not enough to make much of a difference.
A lone tile, which stood for the Sun Clan, went to Ruyi’s piece.
“So now you see,” said Ciyi, gesturing at the board. “The third and fourth sons have few allies, so they do not make ideal choices for heir. Neither does little Ruyi, though the Sun Clan would certainly try.”
I stared at the board a long time before speaking.
“But the first son still has more supporters than the second. Why did the emperor remove him as heir?” It had happened so suddenly, only a few months ago.
“Why choose someone so—” I stopped short of saying detestable. “Why choose someone less favored?”
Ciyi sighed. “Nobody knows for sure, as His Majesty has long been too ill to speak. But if I were to guess, it is because war is on the horizon once again. The Lian in the north have been a sore spot in Tensha’s side for several dynasties, and tensions have risen to a fever pitch.
Prince Terren’s power amplified can finally conquer our enemies, once and for all. ”
War. It seemed so obvious in hindsight, but without having spent all this time in court, how could I have guessed? Lu’an had been nowhere close to the border, and everyone there had been far too preoccupied with survival to think of nebulous threats like war.
Slowly, everything was fitting together. The books, Ciyi’s lessons, the conversations overheard at court. I was beginning to understand the truth.
And the truth was more horrible than I thought. Terren’s violence didn’t just end at court. It was going to affect the whole nation.
I was about to ask another question when a wail tore into the study, sharp and heartrending.
It had come from the back garden. I ran to the window to find Wren, sobbing as she stumbled into the cypress grove. By the light of the lanterns hanging from the eaves, I could see a figure slumped over her shoulders.
The scribe, I realized with horror. Tel Pima. Knife wounds bloomed across his back like poppies.