The Peasant

by Scott Michael Decker

  Frowning, Bubbling Water glanced back at Flying Arrow. He nodded. Beside him, Lurking Hawk gingerly touched a livid bruise on his cheek, his robes in shreds.

  “Very well, Lord Emperor Jaguar, the woman for the valley.”

  “Good! We've settled it all,” Snarling Jaguar said with a decisive, jingling gesture. “Business with you is a pleasure, Lady Matriarch.”

  “No, Lord Emperor, pleasure with me is a business, and your pleasure is my highest order of business.”

  He guffawed, his wrists glittering merrily, and bowed deeply to her.

  Standing, she dared to nod in return, as though his superior. “Excuse me, Lord Emperor Jaguar, I have other business to transact.” Turning around, she bowed. “Excuse me, Lord Emperor Arrow, we have other business to transact.”

  “Eh? What business?” Flying Arrow said, looking startled.

  “The exmatriate Snow, Lord Emperor.” Bubbling Water settled herself on the floor. “The Water Matriarchy wishes to settle her debts to the Empire.”

  Flying Arrow couldn't punish Fleeting Snow without Bubbling Water's consent, although officially the prisoner was his. He could, however, keep the Traitress in the dungeons for the rest of her life. Prison wasn't punishment, merely a place to keep convicted criminals before execution.

  My daughter has endured enough already, Bubbling Water thought. I don't want Fleeting Snow to spend her life in a moldy cell.

  “Why do you want the Traitress, eh?” Flying Arrow asked. “Are the Lord Bear's appetites so voracious he needs another concubine? Has he been frequenting brothels again?”

  Lurking Hawk fell off his cushion, laughing uncontrollably.

  Bubbling Water wanted to kill them both. Instead, she said, “His breeding urges aren't nearly as strong as your own, Lord Emperor. May the Infinite overflow your quiver with arrows.”

  “Thank you, Lady Matriarch,” Flying Arrow said, looking mollified. “How do you know I don't want the Traitress for myself?”

  “Because, Lord Emperor Arrow…” Sparkle clouded her sight and hissing filled her ears. A prescient vision possessed her body and soul. “Because the Lady Consort Flowering Pine will bear you not just one—no, one would be too few!—but two heirs, identical twin sons!”

  Silence flooded the amphitheater.

  Flying Arrow stared at her, uncomprehending.

  Flowering Pine fainted into Shading Oak's arms.

  Bubbling Water pushed herself to sitting, wondering how she'd fallen. On legs of water-logged wood, she stood unsteadily and stumbled toward Flying Arrow. Trying not to fall, she knelt beside him and took his hand. “Congratulations, my son, you'll soon be a father.” She smiled serenely despite her torpor and disorientation.

  “You've divined this, Lady Water?” Snarling Jaguar asked quietly, his voice distinctly audible in the vast, cavernous silence.

  “Yes, Lord Emperor Jaguar.”

  Flying Arrow closed his eyes.

  “That's a joy to hear, Lord Emperor Arrow,” Snarling Jaguar murmured. “A Succession Assured brings peace to the Empire.”

  While the nobility of the Eastern Empire conveyed their blessings and good wishes, Flying Arrow sat very still, not moving, not speaking. The ancient personal servant, tears streaking his face, wiped away the single tear that slid down the Emperor's cheek.

  Chapter 15

  In principle, all taxes go directly to the Emperor, who then disburses all but twenty percent back to the Prefect. From this reimbursement a Prefect pays for administration, infrastructure, and warriors. Depending on the population of his domain, each Prefect must arm, provision and house a certain number of warriors, who all owe their primary allegiance to the Emperor. Whatever money remains belongs to the Prefect.

  In practice however, a Prefect pays the Emperor twenty percent of all taxes and keeps the balance. The Emperor might order all Prefects to pay thirty percent if he has inadequate funds for his administration, or order a Prefect in disfavor to pay all taxes.—Collected Essays on Government, by Guarding Bear.

  * * *

  The pair of punctured moons on the dark face of the sky began to lighten with blue. The coiled, midnight halo bleached and straightened into a nimbus of cloud. As though dawn were breaking, the face of the sky grew pale.

  Guarding Bear regained consciousness as the features of Snarling Jaguar became those of Healing Hand. The throbbing at the base of his head diminished at the young healer's touch. The details of the room behind the boy came into focus. Guarding Bear didn't recognize the place. His brain felt sluggish as mud. “Where am I?”

  “One of the sanctuaries.” Healing Hand searched his face, looking ancient for his mere seven years.

  “Oh, I remember now. Bubbling Water told me to stay here until she sent word, then knocked me unconscious so the warriors could get me out of the castle. Why'd she do that? I could've escaped from the castle on my own.”

  Healing Hand spread his palms beside his shoulders—an elaborate shrug.

  “Fleeting Snow—is she safe, Hand?”

  The boy nodded. “The Lady Water traded the valley for her.”

  “Oh, good.” Guarding Bear sighed. “Did she send you to heal the injuries she inflicted? What a headache she gave me! She told me she'd send someone.”

  Shaking his head, Healing Hand looked across the room.

  Guarding Bear followed the boy's glance. Asleep on a pallet beside the far wall was the family Medacor, Calming Touch, who'd served the Bear Patriarchy for fifteen years. She began to turn over, her long brown hair spilling across her face. Healing Hand opened a large palm toward her; she grew still.

  “You shouldn't be here, should you?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “Why do I feel so groggy? She didn't hit me that hard.”

  “Sedation.”

  Guarding Bear looked into Healing Hand's face. Reality sank into him like a knife seeking his heart, thrust there by the memory of what he'd done. “She's removing me from the path of the poison-headed arrow and sedated me because she's afraid I won't cooperate. Oh, My Lady, my mate, my love,” he moaned, feeling her turmoil as though it were his.

  Then he remembered: “The insignia—the Inviolate Insignia. Oh, blast, I've really thrown the Empire to the wolves this time. Infinite help us all now. They'll collect on our borders and within a week invade us and among them will be Scowling Tiger, hissing and spitting for blood. After they grind the Eastern Empire into dust, they'll dig the Swords from the rubble and give them to that cursed expatriate because he's the only prominent Easterner left.

  “Infinite forgive me, how could I do something so stupid?” he whispered, his sorrow surging up to consume him.

  “Snarling Jaguar asked Flying Arrow to spare you.”

  What the boy said didn't get past his ears. “I can already hear the clash of weapons and the screams of the dying. All the death will be my fault alone. History will revile my name forever because I attacked a foreign Emperor beneath the Inviolate Insignia and brought destruction upon the Eastern Empire.”

  “Said he'd take offense only if Flying Arrow executed you,” the boy said.

  “Don't worry about me, Hand,” Guarding Bear said, and began to weep. “Dear Lord Infinite, spare the children! Listen, Hand, in Nexus lives an old woman who works for me. Ask for the seer; she can get you out of the Empire. You have to leave immediately! Don't even stop to say farewell to the Lady Water, because by the time you, your mother, and sister arrive, they'll all be standing poised to launch their legions.” He began to plead, drawing a knife. “You have to hurry, Hand, please! Leave now, this very instant, do you hear? Get—” Suddenly his face stung.

  Healing Hand sucked on the finger that had struck Guarding Bear's cheekbone.

  The General dropped the knife, not believing the boy had slapped him.

  Around his finger, Healing Hand asked, “Did you hear what I said?”

  Wiping his face, Guarding Bear shook his head. His cheek stung worse for a boy's having str
uck him.

  Healing Hand told him again. “… Then the Lady Water traded you to him.”

  “He threatened to take offense if Flying Arrow executed me? Unbelievable.” In awe, he looked toward the ceiling, not seeing it. Then the enormity of what he'd done to a man capable of such forgiveness blew across his mind like typhoon winds across the sea. Waves of sorrow crested with his every sob, the stinging spray pouring down his cheeks. Rolling over, he buried his face in the pillow and pounded the bed with his fist. Dear Lord Infinite, how could I? he wondered, giving himself up to his remorse.

  A long time later, he felt the warm touch of large hands on his back and heard the soft murmur of the boy's voice. The emitted comfort calmed the seas of his sorrow. “Infinite bless you, Hand.”

  “I thought you'd just be sad you attacked him. I didn't know your sadness was deeper than that.”

  Rolling to his side, Guarding Bear used his trace telekinesis to clear phlegm and tears from his face. “No, my young friend, my sadness goes so deep I despair sometimes of ever finding the bottom. I'm not happy with who I am or what I've done. Eighteen months ago I promised myself I wouldn't kill unless someone tried to kill me, wouldn't war unless someone warred on me. I didn't know what I did want. Perhaps that's why I'm here now. Making a choice by eliminating other choices doesn't work very well. Two promises of elimination, and not one of affirmation.

  “I just want to be me—Guarding Bear. I probably couldn't choose a more difficult path.” He sighed. “Oh, dear Lord Infinite, help me find the strength to be who I want to be.”

  Healing Hand smiled.

  “If I escape from Flying Arrow, who'll surely punish me. Snarling Jaguar's threat won't stop him from throwing me in the dungeons for the rest of my life. Sometimes Flying Arrow isn't very smart; he's so unlike his father, Hand.” Guarding Bear sighed, drawing comfort from the boy, who leaned against him. He put his arm around Healing Hand. “Would you like to hear a story? I need the strength of a story right now. I like stories; do you? Especially mine? Really? Thank you, Hand; you're very kind. Would you like to hear about the first time I met Smoking Arrow? I tell you, Hand, he was shrewd.”

  * * *

  Smoking Arrow stared balefully at me as I bowed twenty paces from his six-inch dais. His fine silk robes were blue and white checks. At his side was the Imperial Sword, the pommel adorned with a large diamond. Sitting on his haunches, Smoking Arrow looked of average size, with gray-streaked brown hair and gray eyes that dominated his face. Nothing but those devastating eyes conveyed his regality.

  The plan that Aged Oak, Brazen Bear and I devised, had worked: The year before, Aged Oak had taken our chosen scapegoats to Emparia City in chains. Smoking Arrow had charged them with inciting insurrection and executed them. Meeting secretly, Aged Oak had told the Emperor of our promise to deliver twenty taels per family per year in Caven Hills taxes, and Smoking Arrow had prudently accepted the face-saving solution. Since Aged Oak had caught the “rebel leaders,” neither the Emperor nor the Prefect needed to reclaim lost face by ruthlessly subjugating the Caven Hills. The tactic would've worked but only at inordinate cost.

  This “solution” is typical of Eastern Empire politics. The rebellion had ended, Scowling Tiger remained Prefect in name but exercised no real dominion, and we'd promised the Emperor a reasonable amount in taxes.

  The situation in the Caven Hills peculiar, we chose to pay all the taxes we'd collected, not the usual twenty percent. I needed to show the Emperor I was an obedient Prefect. I didn't hold the title and my only way to gain it was to have the Emperor invest me. Since Scowling Tiger was still the nominal Prefect, and I was only a peasant upstart who'd usurped control of the Caven Hills, I had to adhere as strictly as I could to the laws of the Empire. The law is clear: Only the Emperor has the right to tax, a right he delegates to trusted subordinates—his Prefects—who perform this service without expectation of reward. It's their duty.

  Leading a detail of a hundred warriors, we traveled to Cove with the taxes and deposited them in the Imperial Bank in Smoking Arrow's name. I continued from there to Emparia City alone.

  My brother and I had a plan. The Caven Hills was a poor place, the Infinite having turned its face from the area. The denizens were an ignorant people, little more than savages living in the rudest of hovels. The region was an agricultural blight, the land hilly and difficult to till. My brother and I knew how to make the land fertile.

  A Prefect usually submits plans for major projects like roads, castles and cities to the Imperial administration only if the project is beyond the Prefect's resources or if it crosses prefecture borders. With Aged Oak's help, I wrote my proposal, submitting it to the administration and specifying that the Emperor review it himself. My provision was unusual, because I should have done all I could to avoid the Emperor's scrutiny.

  When I arrived in Emparia City, I lodged at the Peasant's Back, a hostelry for peasants, and sent the following message to the castle. “To the Lord Emperor Smoking Arrow, sixth of his Imperial Lineage, greatest of all Eastern Emperors, Infinite be with him. The Lord Emperor's humble servant Guarding Bear requests the Lord Emperor's perceptive review of this humble servant's proposal for modernizing agrarian practices in the Caven Hills. If the Lord Emperor would grant the honor of his precious time, this humble servant would be eternally grateful for the opportunity to explain why this proposal merits approval. Please forgive this humble servant's intrusion in asking so much of the Lord Emperor's august person. The peace of the Infinite be upon the Lord Emperor. Gratefully, the Lord Emperor Arrow's humble servant, Guarding Bear.” I composed the most servile message I could, knowing my situation shaky. I detested every word and felt filthy, wheedling like that. As I learned later, such flattery is obligatory, the more exalted the nobility, the more sycophancy expected.

  Then I waited, knowing Smoking Arrow might not summon me for a day or a month, the more in disfavor a person, the longer the delay. The wait was excruciating. I passed most the time in my room, not wanting to miss the Emperor's summons. He could have summoned me with the Imperial Sword, but why grant me such an honor?

  On the seventh day, an Imperial messenger appeared at the Peasant's Back, his cheeks tattooed with the six-arrow insignia. The messenger merely said, “The Lord Emperor Smoking Arrow commands you, Guarding Bear, to follow this humble messenger.” My bowels ground and heaved as I followed him to Emparia Castle. I couldn't tell from the summons whether Smoking Arrow would execute me for my insolence.

  “You asked to see me, Bear.”

  As I eased back on my haunches in the audience hall, I told myself: He's addressing me as all nobles would a peasant, and means no disrespect. “I did, Lord Emperor Arrow. May I congratulate the Lord Emperor on his son's conception? May the Imperial quiver always be full.”

  He waved away my blessing, which I realized he'd probably heard a thousand times since he'd announced the Empress' pregnancy the day before. “Why shouldn't I execute you for your crimes, upstart?” He scrutinized me with those penetrating eyes.

  I felt naked in front of him. “Because we can deliver your taxes, Lord Emperor Arrow.”

  “You and your brother, eh?” A hint of a smile appeared on his face. “Twenty taels is ridiculous, Bear! The Lord Tiger and I can't conceal our concessions to you much longer. Soon I'll have to lower taxes in the other prefectures as well—or raise those in the Caven Hills.”

  “I disagree, Lord Emperor Arrow. Forgive me for suggesting it, Lord, but if taxes were fair, our people wouldn't have revolted.”

  Wrath filled his gaze. “Not fair?! How dare you suggest—”

  “I dare because our people suffer needlessly!” I said, interrupting him with volume in my voice but without raising its pitch.

  He scowled and looked as if he wanted to remove my head. “How would you make taxes more equitable, Lord Emperor Bear?”

  Silently, I blessed my teachers, because they'd given me the clue. “Lord Emperor Arrow, a peasant in Cove earns a hu
ndred twenty taels per year and pays forty-five in taxes. A peasant in Crag makes a hundred ninety taels and pays forty-five. A peasant in the Caven Hills earns fifty and pays forty-five. According to Imperial law, each family pays the same regardless of its earnings. That's unfair, Lord Emperor.”

  “You're no closer to keeping your head, Bear.”

  I began to sweat and continued. “If you levied taxes on a percentage basis, Lord Emperor Arrow, the Cove peasant would pay fifty-four taels, the Crag peasant eighty-five, and our peasant twenty-two. In addition to being more fair, percentage taxation would also fill the Imperial coffers faster. For example, Lord Emperor, the taxes at the flat rate for the three peasants mentioned total one hundred thirty-five taels. At the percentage rate the total is one hundred sixty-one. Please forgive me, Lord Emperor Arrow, for speaking at such length.” I pounded my head on the floor, feigning humility and hating the need for duplicity. When Smoking Arrow didn't reply or acknowledge, I peeked at him from my attitude of obeisance.

  Looking across the audience hall, he no longer saw me or the room, his thoughts elsewhere. I kept my forehead on the floor until he spoke. “I'll consider what you've said, Bear,” Smoking Arrow said five minutes later.

  I nearly fainted with relief. A lump in my bowels moved to a more comfortable position. I had to break wind but didn't dare in the Emperor's presence.

  “I don't condone the killing of tax collectors and warriors, Bear.”

  I nearly gagged with terror. A lump in my bowels ground around a corner. I broke wind involuntarily. Thank the Infinite it made no sound. My own flatulence wafted up around my head like an invisible cloud of swamp gas. “I don't condone the needless killing of anyone, Lord Emperor Arrow.”

  “Lying will get you killed, Bear!”

  “Forgive me, Lord Emperor Arrow, I've said only what I think. If that offends you, please take my head. I'm not a lackey who'll tell you what you want to hear. If that displeases you, please invite me onward. While I don't condone the killing of tax collectors and warriors, Lord Emperor Arrow, I'll kill them when I have no other choice.”