"We should think a few heads on poles would have fixed that," growled Tsotuga.
"The then king of Gwoling tried that, too," said Yaebu. "It accomplished nought; the markets remained empty of goods. City folk starved. . . ."
The argument continued while the Emperor, who had little head for economics, became more and more restless, bored, and impatient. Ignoring these signs, Yaebu persisted in his arguments.
At last the Emperor exploded, "Curse your arse with boils, Yaebu! We will show you how to keep saying 'nay' and 'however' and 'impossible' to your sovran! Begone, sirrahl"
Tsotuga whipped out his fan, snapped it open, and fanned a blast of air at Yaebu. The minister vanished.
Hm, mused Tsotuga, it really does work. Now I must fetch Yaebu back, for I did not really mean to destroy the faithful fellow. It is just that he irritates me so with his everlasting "if's" and "but's" and "can't's." Let me see, where did I put that code book? I remember hiding it in a special place where I could be sure of finding it again. But where?
The Emperor looked first in the deep, baggy sleeves of his embroidered silken robe, which in Kuromon served the office of pockets. It was not there.
Then the Emperor rose from his business throne and went to the imperial wardrobe, where a hundred-odd robes hung from pegs. There were silken robes for official use, thin for summer and quilted for winter. There were woolen robes for outdoor winter use and cotton robes for outdoor summer use. They were dyed scarlet and emerald, saffron and azure, cream and violet, and all the other colors in the dyers' armory.
Tsotuga went down the line, feeling in the sleeves of each robe. A tireman hurried in, saying, "0 Divine Autocrat, permit this filthy beggar to relieve you of this menial chore!"
Tsotuga: "Nay, good Shakatabi; we entrust this task to none but ourselves."
Laboriously, Tsotuga continued down the line until he had examined all the robes. Then he began the rounds of the Proscribed Palace, pulling out the drawers of desks and dressers, poking into cubbyholes, and shouting for the keys to chests and strongboxes.
After several hours, exhaustion forced the Emperor to desist. Falling into the semithrone of the Forbidden Chamber, he struck the gong. When the room was jam-packed with servants, he said, "We, Tsotuga the Fourth, offer a reward of a hundred golden dragons to him who finds the missing code book that goes with our miraculous fan!"
That day, the Proscribed Palace saw a great scurrying and searching. Scores of felt-slippered servants shuffled about, opening, poking, prying, and peering. When night fell, the book had not been found.
Beshrew me! said Tsotuga to himself. Poor Yaebu is lost unless we find the accursed book. I must be more careful with that fan.
Again, as spring advanced, things went smoothly for a while. But the day came when Tsotuga was rollerskating about the paths of the palace gardens with Minister of War Chingitu. Questioned sharply about the recent defeat of the Kuromonian army by the nomads of the steppes, Chingitu offered excuses that Tsotuga knew to be mendacious. Away went Tsotuga's temper. "The real reason," roared the Emperor, "is that your cousin, the Quartermaster-General, has been grafting and filling posts with his worthless relatives, so that our soldiers were ill armed! And you know it! Take that!"
A wave of the fan, and no more Chingitu. In like manner, shortly thereafter, perished Prime Minister Dzakusan.
The want of properly appointed ministers soon made itself felt. Tsotuga could not personally supervise all the hundreds of bureaucrats in the now-headless departments. These civil servants devoted themselves more and more to feuding, loafing, nepotism, and peculation. Conditions were bad in Kuromon anyway, because of the inflation brought about by Tsotuga's paper-money scheme. The government was fast becoming a shambles.
"You must pull yourself together, lord," said Empress Nasako, "ere the pirates of the Gwoling Archipelago and the brigands from the steppes divide Kuromon between them, as a man divides an orange."
"But what in the name of the fifty-seven major deities shall I do?" cried Tsotuga. "Curse it, if I had that code book I could bring back Yaebu, who would straighten out this financial mess."
"Oh, forget the book. If I were you, I should burn that magical fan ere it got me into more trouble."
"You are out of your mind, woman! Never!"
Nasako sighed. "As the sage Zuiku said: Who would use a tiger for a watchdog to guard his wealth will soon need neither wealth nor watchdog. At least appoint a new prime minister to bring order out of this chaos."
"I have gone over the list of possible candidates, but every one has a black mark against him. One was connected with that faction that conspired my assassination nine years ago. Another was accused of grafting, although it was never proved. Still another is ailing-"
"Is Zamben of Jompei on your list?"
"I have never heard of him. Who is he?"
"The supervisor of roads and bridges in Jade Mountain Province. They say he has made an excellent record there."
"How know you about him?" snapped the Emperor suspiciously. "He is a cousin of my first lady-in-waiting. She has long urged his virtues upon me. I brushed her suit aside, knowing my lord's dislike of letting my ladies exploit their position by abetting their kinsmen's interests. In your present predicament, though, you could do worse than look the fellow over."
"Very well, I will."
Thus it happened that Zamben of Jompei became prime minister. The former supervisor of roads and bridges was younger by a decade
than the Emperor. He was a handsome, cheerful, charming, rollicking person who made himself popular with the court, save for those determined to hate the favorite of the moment. Tsotuga thought Zamben was rather too lighthearted and lacking in respect for the labyrinthine etiquette. But Zamben proved an able administrator who soon had the vast governmental machine running smoothly.
But it is said that the thatcher's roof is the leakiest in the village.
What the Emperor did not know was that Zamben and Empress
Nasako were secret lovers. They had been before Zamben's elevation.
Circumstances made it hard to consummate their passion, save rarely in one of Nasako's summer pavilions in the hills.
In the Proscribed Palace, it was even harder. The palace swarmed with menials who would be glad to carry tales. The amorous pair had to resort to stratagems. Nasako announced that she had to be left entirely alone in a summer house to compose a poem. The versatile Zamben wrote the poem for her as evidence before he hid himself in the summer house in advance of her arrival.
"That was worth waiting for," said the Empress, donning her garments. "That fat old fool Tsotuga has not touched me in a year, and a full-blooded woman like me needs frequent stoking. He has not even futtered his pretty young concubines, albeit he is not yet fifty."
"Why? Is he prematurely senile?"
"Nay, it is his fear of assassination. For a while, he tried doing it in the seated position, so that he could keep looking about for possible assailants. But since he insisted on wearing his armor, it proved too awkward to please anyone. So he gave it up altogether."
"Well, the thought of a stab in the back is depressing to more than just a man's spirit. If-which the gods forfend-an accident should befall His Divine Majesty-"
"How?" said Nasako. "No assassin dares approach him whilst he has that fan."
"Where does he put it at night?"
"Under his pillow, and he sleeps clutching it. It would take a winged demon to get at him anyway, floating in that pool of quicksilver."
"A hard-driven crossbow bolt, shot from beyond the fan's range-"
"Nay, he is too well guarded to let an arbalester get within range, and he even sleeps in his mail."