The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu Page A

him.
    â€œSure.” Kuni perked up. A party was something he was always interested in—free drinks and free food!
    â€œThe mayor’s friend, a man by the name of Matiza, has just moved to Zudi. He’s a wealthy rancher from up in old Faça who somehow got in trouble with the local magistrate. He’s moving here to start over, but most of his assets are tied up in flocks and herds up there that can’t be quickly converted to cash. The mayor is holding a welcoming party for him—”
    â€œThe real point of the party, of course, is to get the guests to bring lots of gifts for this Matiza in order to impress the mayor, and thus solve his cash flow problem,” said Than Carunoco.
    â€œMaybe you can come to the party as a servant hired for the occasion,” Cogo suggested. “I’m in charge of the planning. I can get you a job as a waiter for the day. You’ll get a chance to say a few words to the important guests as you deliver them their food.”
    â€œNah.” Kuni Garu waved the suggestion away. “Cogzy, I’m not going to bow and scrape for food and pay. I’ll go as a guest.”
    â€œBut the mayor wrote on the invitation that the suggested gift amount for guests is at least a hundred silver pieces!”
    Kuni lifted his eyebrows. “I’ve got my wit and good looks. Those are priceless.”
    Everyone broke down in laughter as Cogo shook his head.

    Bright-yellow lanterns hung in front of the mayor’s house. Standing on both sides of the front door, young women dressed in traditional Cocru short gowns inhaled perfumed smoke sticks and blew soap bubbles at the arriving guests. The soap bubbles burst against them, releasing their fragrance: jasmine, osmanthus, rose, sandalwood.
    Cogo Yelu acted as doorman and greeted the guests while recording their gifts in a ledger (“So that Master Matiza can properly write thank-you notes,” he explained). But everyone knew that the ledger would be read by the mayor later. How easy it would be for someone to get things done in Zudi in the future might well depend on the size of the figure next to his name.
    Kuni arrived by himself. He had put on a clean undershirt and his least-patched robe, and washed his hair. He wasn’t drunk. This counted as “dressing up” for him.
    Cogo stopped him at the door.
    â€œI’m serious, Kuni. I can’t let you in unless you’ve brought a gift. Otherwise you have to join the beggars’ table over there.” He pointed to a table set up against the outside wall of the estate, about fifty feet down from the gate. Even at this early hour, beggars and malnourished orphans were already fighting for seats around it. “They’ll bring you the leftovers when the guests are done.”
    Kuni Garu winked at Cogo, reached into the folds of his sleeves, and took out a crisp sheet of paper, folded into thirds. “You’ve surely mistaken me for someone else. I’m Fin Crukédori, and I’ve brought with me a thousand silver pieces. Here’s a note, to be drawn on my account at the house office.”
    Before Cogo could answer, a woman’s voice interrupted. “Such an honor to see the famous Master Crukédori again!”
    Cogo and Kuni turned their heads and saw, through the gate, a young woman barely in her twenties standing in the courtyard. She looked at Kuni with a mischievous smile. Her light complexion and curly, bright-red hair, common in Faça, stood out a little in Zudi, but Kuni was struck most by her eyes. Dyran-shaped, they seemed to be pools of dark-green wine. Any man who looked into them was doomed to lose his way.
    â€œMiss,” Kuni said, and cleared his throat. “Is something amusing you?”
    â€œ You are,” the woman said. “Master Fin Crukédori came in not ten minutes ago with his father, and we chatted amiably while he paid me several compliments. Yet here you are again,