The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu Read Free Book Online Page A

also very lucrative: Families who didn’t want to see their sons conscripted were willing to pay a high price.
    â€œI know wily women like you,” the man went on. “I think this story about your ‘eldest’ is a complete fabrication to get out of having to pay your fair share for the construction of a suitable palace for the afterlife of His Imperial Majesty, the Beloved Emperor Mapidéré. May he never leave us.”
    â€œMay he never leave us. But I’m telling you the truth, Sir.” The old woman tried flattery. “You are wise and brave, and I know you will take pity on me.”
    â€œIt’s not pity you need,” the corvée administrator said. “If you can’t produce the documents—”
    â€œThe documents are at the magistracy back home, in Rui—”
    â€œWell, we aren’t in Rui, now are we? And don’t interrupt me. I’ve given you the choice to pay a Prosperity Tax so that we can forget this unpleasantness. But since you are unwilling, I’ll have to—”
    â€œI’m willing, Sir! I’m willing. But you have to give me time. Busi­ness has not been good. I need time—”
    â€œI told you not to interrupt me!” The man lifted his hand and slapped the old woman across her face. The young man standing next to her lunged at him, but the old woman grabbed her son’s arm and tried to position herself between the administrator and her son. “Please, please! Forgive my foolish son. You can hit me again for his faults.”
    The administrator laughed and spat at her.
    The old woman’s face trembled with unspeakable sorrow. It brought to Kuni’s mind the face of his own mother, Naré, and the times when she would berate him for not making more of his own life. The drunken stupor evaporated.
    â€œHow much is the Prosperity Tax?” Kuni sauntered up to the three of them. Other pedestrians gave them a wide berth. No one wanted to draw the attention of the corvée administrator.
    The man eyed Kuni Garu—beer belly, ingratiating smile, face still red with drink, and unkempt, wrinkled clothes—and decided that he was no threat. “Twenty-five pieces of silver. And what’s that to you? Are you volunteering to take the boy’s place on the corvée?”
    Kuni’s father, Féso Garu, had paid off corvée administrator after corvée administrator, and he did have the documents to show that he was exempt. He also wasn’t afraid of the man. Kuni was a pretty good street brawler and thought he would acquit himself well if they came to blows. But this was a situation that called for some finesse, not force.
    â€œI’m Fin Crukédori,” he said. The Crukédoris owned Zudi’s largest jewelry store, and Fin, the eldest son, had once tried to turn Kuni and his friends into the constabulary for disturbing the peace after Kuni humiliated him in a game of high-stakes dice. Fin’s father was also known for being stingy and never spared a copper for any charity—but his son had a reputation as a spendthrift. “And I like nothing more than money.”
    â€œThen you should hold on to it and stay out of other people’s business.”
    Kuni nodded like a chicken pecking in the dirt. “Sage advice, Sir!” Then he spread his hands helplessly. “But this old woman is a friend of my cook’s mother-in-law’s neighbor. And if she tells her friend, who tells her neighbor, who tells her daughter, who tells her husband, who might then not cook my favorite braised-eel-with-duck-eggs—”
    The administrator’s head spun as he tried to follow this story that was going nowhere. “Stop this senseless prattle! Are you going to pay for her or not?”
    â€œYes! Yes! Oh, Sir, you’ll swear you have not had real food until you’ve tasted this braised eel. It is as smooth as a mouthful of jade. And the duck eggs? Oh