The Warring States, Books 1-3

by Greg Strandberg

  The money lasted a few weeks, and he was soon down to only a few coins once again. It was that realization which brought him to the large government office in the first place; without a steady source of income he’d soon be living on the street like the countless other unfortunates he passed by on every street. They held out their dirty hands, most with at least one arm or leg missing, some blind, others diseased, begging for whatever handouts they could get. Wu had winced at the thought of sharing space with them during the night, so was left with only one choice: get a job. Thankfully, Chu was the one place in all of the Seven States where they were always willing to put men of intelligence to work, for their bureaucracy was endless, their need of skilled men capable of reading and writing great.

  Wu turned onto another street and began walking down it. He was looking for the building that housed Administration, expecting it to be a large stone structure much as the previous Personnel building had been. Several stone buildings rose up on either side of the street, each with their names etched into the stone above their doors. There were numerous tax offices, army offices, education offices, foreign offices, and trade offices. Most of those buildings were large and Wu figured they conducted business for the whole state. Smaller stone buildings housed such disparate and seemingly redundant offices as Public Works, Street Maintenance, Poverty Control, and Pest Control. On just one block Wu saw different buildings devoted to weights and measures, one for fruits, one for vegetables, and yet another for grains. He suspected that they would also have one for meats, and perhaps another for tea. The sheer scale of uselessness and inefficiency of the Chu bureaucracy was plainly evident just by taking a stroll. And he didn’t even want to guess at the amount of corruption needed to keep the wheels of it turning.

  Another few blocks brought him to a large stone building that was as large as two other government buildings put together. Above its large double doorway rose a sign proclaiming it as Administration. Wu nodded, satisfied that he could find the immense building again. Now his attention could turn to finding suitable accommodations. He doubted that he had enough money in his pocket to get a room until he received his first month’s pay. There was always hope that a proprietor of an inn would be understanding and allow him to stay, however. Wu wanted a place near the Administration building so he turned off onto one of the side streets that branched off from the larger avenue.

  This street was in even worse shape than the one it came from, with more holes than cobbles showing. Obviously the Street Maintenance bureau wasn’t doing its job.

  Wu sidestepped holes, puddles, refuse, and beggars as best he could as he made his way down the street, all the while trying to keep his eyes up and scanning the numerous signs that hung down over shop doorways. Many were small stores specializing in stationary items such as pens and ink that would be needed on a daily basis by the large government bureaus surrounding them. Others were devoted to clothing, household items, and dry goods. By far the most numerous were taverns, and Wu figured that a great portion of the bureaucratic corps must spend their evenings here drinking away their wages. No wonder the system was so inefficient..

  All of the taverns looked the same to him, and few of the signs said anything about being an inn as well as an establishment for food and drink. Still, judging from the windows of the buildings’ second levels he suspected that many of them rented out rooms. Wu was nearing the end of the street, which was becoming increasingly narrow, and was about to turn around and head back to the main avenue to try another side street. Suddenly a sign caught his eye. “The Barracks,” it read simply. Wu hesitated a moment. A name like that would surely draw some of the military men of the city, yet the name called to him for specifically that reason. After a moment he shrugged aside his fears of being recognized and stepped toward the wooden door. It creaked loudly as he pushed it open, and it took him a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness within.

  “We’ll not be opening up for lunch for another hour yet,” a gruff voice called out to him from the back of the room.

  Wu closed the door behind him. “Oh, I’m not here about food, at least not right now,” he began, stepping further into the dark room. “I’ve come to inquire about a room.”

  Wu’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness and the little amount of light able to penetrate the thin curtains of the windows. He could see a bar at the back of the large common room and stepped closer to it.

  “A room, you say?” the gruff voice answered. “What do you be wanting a room here for?”

  Wu could make the man out now, just behind the bar. He had short black hair which looked to have not seen a comb or brush in several weeks. His beard and mustache were thick and in an equal state of disarray. As Wu stepped up to the bar he could see that the man was old, in his late fifties at least, and that he had a deep scar running down one side of his face. Wu guessed that this man had served in the army, perhaps even seeing some combat during Chu’s waning years of activity, and that he had opened this tavern as a way to supplement his meager pension.

  “I’m to start work in the Administration building tomorrow,” Wu said. “I’m new to the city don’t have a place to stay. I thought that a place close to my work would be best.”

  The man looked him up and down for a moment, a frown coming to his face.

  “And I suppose that you don’t have the money to pay me now, either?”

  Wu suspected that this man had seen countless young would-be bureaucrats come through his door over the years, asking for the same thing that Wu was now asking.

  “I have some, but most likely not enough for a full month, at least until I’m paid.”.

  The man snorted, not at all surprised by the answer. “Figures,” he said. “Well, how much do you have?”

  Wu took the small money pouch from within his robes and upended it onto the bar. “What you see here is all I have to my name.”

  “Those are bu,” the man said, his eyes shooting from the coins to Wu. “You come from up north.”

  Wu nodded. “I’ve been traveling through some of the others states.”

  “Well, we don’t usually trade in bu here in Chu, just yibi, but if this is all you’ve got, then I guess it doesn’t matter any longer.”

  “Will you take them?” Wu asked.

  “I can change them easily enough,” the man said after a moment, not mentioning that he would get a favorable exchange rate that would make the transaction quite worthwhile.

  The man paused for a few moments longer and glanced from the small pile of coins to Wu. “A little old to be starting over again, aren’t you?”

  Wu shrugged. “I have no choice.”

  The man stared at Wu in an appraising manner for several moments before swiping the coins off of the bar and into his hand. He gave them another look then stuffed them into the pocket of his robes before coming around the bar.

  “The room is this way,” he said, moving toward the stairs.

  Wu quickly followed and the two headed up the creaking stairs.

  “The rent will be due on the first of each month, which is when you’ll be paid. The price is ten yibi per month, and that includes your meals.”

  Wu nodded behind the man’s back but said nothing. He wasn’t sure exactly how much a yibi was worth in comparison to a bu, but he knew that ten bu was nearly an entire month’s pay for a common soldier. He hoped that Chu bureaucrats made more.

  They walked down the narrow hallway that ran the length of the building before the man stopped at a nondescript wooden door.

  “This is the one,” he said as he pushed the door open.

  The man held his arm out for Wu to step inside. The room was little bigger than a common army tent, with the small bed pushed against one wall, a small table and chair taking up much of the other. A single window illuminated the room, which looked out onto another wooden building just a few feet away and across the narrow alley.

  “There’s a bowl for your washing and a pot for your other nee
ds,” the man said, stepping into the room behind Wu. “It’s not large, but on your salary, you won’t find much better.”

  Wu turned back to the man. “How much will I owe you at the beginning of the month?”

  The man stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Wu. “With what you’ve given me, oh, I’d say three yibi’s.”

  “Then I’ll take it,” Wu said.

  The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys, sorted through them, then selected and removed one.

  “Lunch is served at noon, dinner at six,” the man said as he handed the key to Wu. “I be Sa.”

  “Thank you, Sa,” Wu said as he took the key.

  The man nodded, gave Wu one more quick once over, then left the room, closing the door behind him. Wu turned and looked around again at the sparse room before sitting down on the bed. Well, he thought with a frown, time to start again.

  FOUR

  The chime sounded and Wu rose from his desk. He dipped his brush into a small cup of water then ran it over a cloth for a few moments, removing the black ink. He then laid it beside the ink pot, shuffled a few stacks of paper into one orderly pile, grabbed another stack, rose from his desk, and turned toward the door. The four other men Wu shared the small inner office with were each walking toward the door as well, nodding good night as they went. Wu was the last out and closed the door behind him, pulling a ring of keys from inside his robes to lock it. The large outer office was a bustle of activity as the younger clerks and scribes rushed about with stacks of papers. Each wanted to get to the right desks as quickly as possible so that they too could be out the building and on their way home, or more likely to their favorite drinking establishments. Wu easily moved through them and toward a side wall of the larger office where a man still sat at his desk. He looked up as Wu approached, a frown spreading onto his face.

  “You just brought me a stack that size this time yesterday,” the man complained.

  “I know you like to keep busy,” Wu said to the man as he laid the stack of papers down on the desk.

  The man snorted but said nothing, not even glancing at the new stack that had just been added to the several already there.

  Wu turned and headed for the door of the outer office, moved through to the long hallway branching off into yet more offices, and then through the front desk room before finally emerging from the building entirely. He didn’t pause as he stepped onto the cobbled avenue and turned toward the small side street that led to his lodgings. He only noticed the numerous potholes as he stepped around them and didn’t give the equally numerous beggars a look at all. Within minutes he was walking through the door of The Barracks and heading toward the bar.

  Despite the fact that the final chime of the day had just sounded a few minutes earlier, the common room of The Barracks was already half-full. Men were busy throwing back glasses of wine and mugs of ale, the second already for many of them, Wu judged from the din of voices already growing loud.

  Wu walked up to the bar but before he even reached it Sa had placed a small tray down with several bowls on it. Wu lifted one of the lids and steam wafted up into his face. Ah, beef tonight; Wu could tell from the smell. He put the lid back on the bowl, grabbed the tray, and headed for the small staircase at the side of the room. Another few moments brought him to his door, through it, and to the small table opposite his bed. He placed the tray down, pulled out the rickety chair, and sat down. A small brazier sat on one edge of the table and he picked up a flint and dagger beside it, struck a few sparks, and brought it burning to life. He lit a candle from the flame before extinguishing it, and then removed the lids from the three bowls, grabbed up his chopsticks, and started in on the rice. While he chewed that first mouthful he reached into his robes and pulled out his notebook, putting it onto the desk beside his tray. While still eating he took up his brush, removed the lid of his inkpot and dipped it in. With his other hand he opened the notebook to the marked page. After quickly scanning the text he put brush to paper and began writing with one hand while eating with the other.

  Wu was still writing when a knock came at the door. He continued the line he was working on before leaning back in his chair. He could tell from the large puddle of candle wax on the desk and the darkness outside the window that he had been writing for several hours at least. He set his brush down, pushed himself away from the table, picked up the empty tray of food, and went to the door. Sa himself was standing in the hallway, his scarred face as usual betraying no indication of what he was thinking.

  “First of the month today,” the grizzled tavern-keeper said as Wu handed him the tray.

  “Already?” Wu said with surprise as he reached into his robes.

  Sa nodded resignedly but said nothing. After three years he had grown accustomed to the eccentric bureaucrat that lived upstairs. He seemed to have no need of friends, conversation, or companionship. In all the time Sa’d known him he’d only seen Wu come down to the common room for a drink a handful of times. And not once had he seen the man with a woman, or anyone for that matter. Still, the man paid his rent on time, although he usually had to be reminded that it was time, and he caused no trouble and made no noise. He was an ideal tenant, Sa had decided long ago, and he wished he could have more like him.

  “Let’s see, ten yibi,” Wu said as he finally found his money pouch and began counting out coins.

  Wu finished counting and handed them over.

  “Not once in three years have you asked for a better room,” Sa said as he took the coins and slipped them into his robe.

  Wu’s brows furrowed in puzzlement as he looked at Sa and then turned to look into the room behind him.

  “Why would I want another room?” he asked.

  Sa shrugged before he picked up the tray once again. “Suit yourself,” he said as he walked off down the hall.

  Wu knitted his brows and shrugged his shoulders as he watched Sa depart, then headed back into the room. He pulled another candle from a small box atop the shelf he had installed above the desk and lit it from the remains of the last, securing it upright in the still hot puddle of wax. The room now more fully lit, he grabbed his notebook and leaned back in his chair, scanning over what he had written that evening.

  He flipped through the pages, paused on one, and began reading.

  ‘…the amount of paper produced is in direct correlation to the amount of new personnel added to the bureaucratic offices. More people ensures that more paper needs to be produced. More paper produced ensures that more people need to be added to deal with it. More paper meant more people, more people meant more offices, and more offices meant more buildings. More buildings in turn meant that more people would be needed to build them. That will in turn lead to more paper…”

  Wu stopped and closed his notebook, laying it on the desk. He leaned further back in his chair and looked up at the shelf above him. Next to the box of candles were all the notes he had written on the Chu bureaucracy over the past three years, neatly bound into two large leather-bound volumes. Wu stared up at them in admiration, for they were the only thing of consequence that had come about from his service to Chu during that whole time. The work he did in the Administration office was pointless, something he had realized after his first few days on the job. He had wanted to quit right then and there, heading back to Qi to try once again to aid Duke Kang, or even to Anyi to plead with Marquis Wu to allow him that position training soldiers that he had turned down. He had quickly dismissed those notions, however, and persevered. After a few months he had even come to enjoy the monotonous paperwork that filled his days in the office, even if he saw no real use for it, and it was around that time that he began compiling notes on what he saw in the office. They were sporadically recorded at first, just a few observations about his superiors or coworkers, and written mainly on scraps of paper which he would toss away. After a few more months, however, he began to put some serious thought into compiling a detailed list of everything that was w
rong with the Chu bureaucracy. Thought turned to action once he’d acquired the notebooks. That’s when his role as administrator, a job he had willingly been looking forward to under Marquis Wen in Xihe truly came into being.

  He kept his observations secret, only recording them at night in the confines of his own room, and he never spoke of them to anyone. He quickly came to realize that any talk of changing the bureaucracy was tantamount to treason in Chu, not so much because it was a great institution and desperately needed, but because so many knew how corrupt and inefficient it truly was. And, Wu had come to realize, the ones who held that opinion the most were the same men that served and often ruled over that corrupt and inefficient bureaucracy. Even though they knew of the futility of it all, they would not dare to change it. It was their work, their income, their rationale, their life. Without it they would be nothing, and without them, Chu would not know what to do. For fifty years the bureaucracy had stifled the once powerful state, making it a shell of its former self. Many knew this, but few wanted to admit it, even to themselves.

  Wu closed his notebook and slipped it back into the pocket of his robes. He reached his hand up and rubbed his temples and eyes. For some reason he was feeling a slight headache coming on. Perhaps it was reading over of what he had written. While writing he rarely thought much of what was being put down, the words simply coming to him in a torrent, his hand and brush often too slow to keep up. It was only when he chose to scan through the pages and even read a few that the enormity of the problem hit him, leaving him drained and feeling dejected. Wu rose from his chair, feeling just that, and looked over at his bed. It was still early, with several hours remaining before he usually went to sleep. He glanced out the window and down to the alley below, pondering whether to take a walk or not this evening.

  The sounds from the busy common room below came up to him. Usually he had no problem drowning them out, rarely noticing them at all anymore, unless it was a particularly rowdy crowd or a fight broke out. It sounded as though neither was occurring tonight, however. Thinking that it had been some time, months perhaps, since he had last gone downstairs for a drink, Wu decided to do just that.