Our miscreants were unusual, having gained the tacit support of the natives.
My brother and I knew that Scowling Tiger would have to act—or he might lose his position. We"d repaid his neglect of the Caven Hills by taking his taxes, but the income was less important than his face.
Now, I"m Guarding Bear—a peasant. Nobles always tell us peasants we don"t have face and can"t understand face. I know this much about it: Face is sometimes more important than substance. To nobles, anyway.
Scowling Tiger had inherited more than wealth and position: He"d inherited face. Even the Emperor had respected and feared his father Stretching Tiger. For a week, though, the Prefect did nothing to regain his face. He didn"t even collect taxes. He did request Smoking Arrow"s help. The Emperor sent Scowling T
