The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 5 - Chapter 16

Chapter 16: The Banquet (Part Two)

“Well, well, what to do?”

Lahan sounded downright giddy as he slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose, thinking furiously. For him, the emissary’s request for political asylum was probably less interesting to consider than how best to make the business negotiations pay off. Business meant the flow of money, the flow of goods; it was a world drenched in numbers, and that had to be engaging for him.

“I think you can answer that question better than I can.”

“Whatever we do or don’t do, wasn’t it a fascinating conversation? Oh. Ahem, yes, of course I’ll at least have a talk. I assume that’s her objective.”

He made it sound so simple, Maomao thought. Insects “bringing catastrophe” had to refer to a plague; of that she was sure. Rising grain prices meant there was a threat of famine. The emissary they’d spoken to was from Shaoh. But then there was the woman Ayla, who’d been conspiring with the Shi clan. Evidently, Shaoh was not monolithic. Even so, a request for political asylum was beyond anything Maomao had expected.

Maomao didn’t like to spend her time worrying about other people’s problems. And the problems of entire nations? Count her out! So why, why did she keep finding herself drawn into things like this? They could have brought Lahan along and left it at that.

I wonder if she recognized me, Maomao thought. She wondered whether the emissary realized it wasn’t the first time they’d met. The light had been fading the last time, but they had seen each other face-to-face. Even if the woman did remember her, though, surely there must have been another way to go about things. Maybe she just wanted to be able to show some kind of connection to us.

If so, then maybe Maomao talking about it would have been a part of her calculations. A way of putting a check on something else. Maomao wasn’t one for gossip and games, though. She was more keen to see what was going on in the banquet hall. Why would you go off and have a secret conversation when you thought there might be suspicious characters lurking about?

When they got back, they found that the eating and chatter had ceased entirely, and something new was going on.

“Is this also a western custom?” Maomao asked.

There was music playing, and men and women were facing each other and dancing along to it. Well, if you could call it dancing—it wasn’t a performance like a proper troupe might put on; more just spinning around the room in time with the rhythm of the music. This, evidently, was why the men and women had been requested to come in pairs.

I’d trip over someone’s feet before I knew it, Maomao thought, confident that this was one thing she absolutely did not want to do. She looked at Lahan.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m hopeless at this, myself.”

Thank goodness they had that in common, at least.

As they looked around, they spotted a crowd that had formed—and who should be in the middle of it but a very familiar, very beautiful man. Jinshi was mobbed, and was flashing the heavenly smile Maomao had already seen her fill of back when he was supposedly a eunuch. Basen was beside him, but frowning.

Poor choice of sidekick. Basen was never going to be much help here; he flinched back visibly from every young woman who approached. With his strength, he’s probably so nervous right now that he couldn’t dance even if they got him out there.

Maomao rubbed her wrist where he’d grabbed her the day before. There were still faint red marks on it. What she wanted to know was, if the men and women were supposed to pair off, what were those two doing standing there by themselves?

“I believe Lady Ah-Duo pulled a little prank. If she were to pose as a man, that would be too many of them, no?”

“Ah, I see.”

If Jinshi were to accompany Consort Lishu, then Basen (who, as a member of a named clan, had the status) could accompany Ah-Duo, even if he might feel a little funny about it. But, with all due respect to Jinshi and Basen, knowing Lishu, it would be much better for her if Ah-Duo acted as her escort. There was no telling what that scheming half-sister might try—Maomao wouldn’t put it past her to at least slip a scorpion into the consort’s bed.

That reminds me, I wonder if I can get some of the grilled scorpions to go. Supposedly, scorpions were also sometimes served still alive and kicking, but she didn’t hold out much hope of sampling that particular dish either here or at Gyokuen’s mansion. She made herself a mental note to be sure she got a chance before they went home. Much to Maomao’s disappointment, they hadn’t run into any scorpions or other poisonous insects on the road—Suirei had been too scrupulous about the bug repellant. Maomao felt that surely they should have seen at least one such creature on the way.

Lahan had a hand to his chin and was continually muttering to himself, calculating.

“Looks like you had quite an interesting conversation,” someone said politely. Maomao looked up to discover Rikuson, a gentle smile on his face. He had a glass in one hand, which he handed to Maomao. She gave it an experimental sniff and detected the faint whiff of alcohol.

“Thank you,” she said and drank it down, assuming that one glass wouldn’t hurt. It was carbonated fruit wine that popped as it went down; it tasted so good she could have stuck out her tongue with pleasure. She could feel the bubbles still fizzing in her mouth. “That’s quite tasty.”

“Yes, one of the western merchants brought it. I hear it’s quite precious, and that was the last glass.” Rikuson grinned. Suddenly, Maomao had a bad feeling about this. “For the record, I didn’t drink any,” Rikuson said.

Then she felt him grasp her wrist. She was startled by the suddenness of it, but unlike Basen, his grip was gentle. She found herself pulled toward where everyone was spinning around.

“Perhaps you’d be so kind as to join me for one dance?” His expression seemed to change from gentle to shrewd.

Hey! He is that freak’s subordinate! Maomao, not quite able to hide what was going through her mind, gave him a very severe look, but Rikuson only smiled. He looked like he was trying to keep from laughing out loud. “I see that what I heard was true,” he said.

“I don’t know who you heard it from, but let’s hurry up and get this over with.”

“Just until the one song is over.”

Maomao falteringly imitated what everyone else was doing; she at least found the wherewithal to avoid stepping on her partner’s feet. (Although if her partner had been Lahan, his toes would probably have been forfeit by the end of the song.)

“Do you know why the Emperor’s younger brother specifically chose to bring you here?”

“I assume because I’m so useful.”

Rikuson placed one of his hands on Maomao’s hip and held her hand with the other—she saw that this was the western style, but it would have been unthinkable in the capital. Strange that it felt so ordinary here. Funny, what the right time and place could do. “True enough. But I think you could stand to have a slightly clearer sense of your own value,” Rikuson said, carefully maintaining his polite mode of speech. “It demonstrates the power of the La name at court.”

“I’m a base apothecary born in the pleasure district,” Maomao said bluntly. She didn’t know how much Rikuson knew, and she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, this was the truth.

“That’s well and good. Just one thing, though.” Rikuson smiled again and glanced to the side, in the direction of the crowd. The beautiful man at the center of it was looking directly at them. “Please remember that you aren’t a disinterested third party. Never forget the import of what you wear on your head.”

Does he mean the hair stick? she thought, but Rikuson was already taking her hand; he brought her fingers slowly to his lips and kissed them. Come on, really? Maomao thought. It was the same sort of thing that traveling performers jokingly did for the prostitutes.

The moment the song was over, they went back to standing by the wall. Lahan was still muttering to himself, calculating, and Rikuson disappeared someplace. Maomao felt someone watching her closely from a distance, but chose to ignore it. She lightly brushed her hand where Rikuson had kissed it, then looked around.

She found a young woman sitting right up against the wall; the veil over her face gave away that it was Consort Lishu. There was no one near her. The consort appeared to be looking fixedly at a middle-aged man who was swirling a cup of alcohol and chatting amiably. Lishu’s half-sister was with him, smiling broadly, confidently. If her father hadn’t doubted her mother’s faithfulness, perhaps Lishu would also be grinning and talking. Maybe she wouldn’t have become the timid young woman she was today.

“May I ask where Lady Ah-Duo is?” Maomao said, approaching Lishu. But then she involuntarily pressed a hand to her nose, exclaiming, “Oh!” Lishu looked up, shaking a little. Maomao suspected she’d been crying behind the veil. “And may I also ask...what that smell is, milady?”

“Someone bumped into me and their perfume bottle spilled on me,” she said.

The billowing, rich fabric of Lishu’s dress seemed to have soaked the stuff right up, and now the unusual, very fragrant fragrance was all around her. Certain perfumes were made from animal musk, and properly diluted, they could be perfectly fine aromas, but in larger quantities...well, they smelled like excrement.

“Lady Ah-Duo went to prepare a room for me.”

“I see.” And Consort Lishu, knowing she couldn’t mingle smelling like that, was pinned in place. Maomao thought about summoning a server to get something for her, but there didn’t seem to be any around. “Who was it who bumped into you?” she asked.

“I think Lady Ah-Duo is looking for them too. She said to sit here and wait.”

The table of food was up against the wall; everyone else had already lost interest in the now-cold dinner and was focused on dancing, chatting, or just generally being seen. Maomao took several pieces of meat from the table and put them on a plate. Sure, they were cold, but they still tasted fine. She tucked in, not caring in the least that she was ruining the rouge on her lips. “Want some?” she asked Lishu.

“Yes, please,” the consort said hesitantly. She’d eaten one of the local meat dishes at the formal dinner the other day. It might be cold, but for want of anything else to do, Lishu accepted a plate.

The dancing came to an end, and something most unusual was brought into the banquet hall. Several large, strong men hauled a huge square thing covered in a white cloth into the room, pulling it along on a cart.

What’s that? Maomao wondered, her eyes widening a little.

With a flourish, the men pulled off the covering to reveal what was inside. A low growling could be heard, and the crowd was confronted with a reddish-brown creature whose presence was only accentuated by its great mane. Even lying down, it was obvious how much bigger it was than any person.

So it wasn’t a tiger. The thing wasn’t striped. A lion?

She’d never seen a live one, only a skin. Unlike the flat, empty pelt, the real animal was overwhelming. Even chained inside a cage of thick bars, its terribleness all but wafted through the air.

The lion—essentially a gigantic cat with a scarf—was looking around angrily.

Yikes, Maomao thought, although she studied the scarf-cat intently. The fur of the pelt had been rougher than that of the average feline, although she wasn’t sure about that of the living creature. The tiger, another large cat, had some medicinal uses, and Maomao looked at this new creature hungrily, wondering if it might make any good medicines itself.

Maomao was practically vibrating with interest, but Lishu was quaking with fear. Each time the lion’s roar echoed around the room, she would flinch back. It was all too much for the timid consort.

It’s not like it’s going to eat her. Well, all right—if it got out of that cage, it could very well attack someone, but they seemed to have taken suitable precautions that the lion stayed where it was.

The men who had brought the lion in produced a plate piled with raw meat. The lion reared up, such as it could in its cramped confines, and reached out with one massive foreleg through the bars.

“Would anyone like to try feeding it?” one of the men inquired. The lion had been brought here to be entertainment, and apparently had been starved for the purpose. It was growling, hungry for the meat, drooling as its long tongue emerged from its mouth.

Several interested spectators came forward. One of them skewered some meat on a stick and slowly approached the cage. The lion smacked the meat down with its great paw, causing the man holding the stick to fall on his behind. The crowd murmured.

Each time the lion was given a hunk of meat, it would be moved closer to the crowd to give people a better view. The lion, annoyed at only getting one meager bit of food at a time, began to growl again.

“Shall we move somewhere?” Maomao asked Lishu, who trembled each time the lion got closer. At this rate, Maomao feared she might faint clean away when the lion was right in front of their eyes. Consort Lishu, however, didn’t move.

“You’d prefer to stay here and watch?” Maomao asked.

“I can’t s-seem to...” the consort began, but her voice was hardly louder than a fly, and Maomao didn’t catch the rest of what she was saying.

“What’s that?”

“I can’t seem to stand up...” Lishu’s earlobes, just visible behind her veil, were bright red. Ah, yes, of course. With this consort, she should have guessed. Maomao didn’t so much as laugh—she didn’t really feel the impulse—but looked around, hoping to find Ah-Duo.

At that moment, the lion on the cart began to growl threateningly. At first Maomao thought it was angry at being fed piecemeal, but no, that wasn’t quite it. Its nose was twitching, and it began throwing itself against the bars of the cage. Several strong men pulled on the chains restraining the agitated animal, but that didn’t calm it down; in fact, it seemed to make things worse. The lion slammed against its cage again, and then again—and then finally, one of the bars gave way with a crack, breaking apart and giving it enough room to squeeze partially out. Then a second bar snapped, and the lion was free. The broken bars bounced off the animal and rolled along the carpeted floor.

“Hey, somebody stop that thing!” someone shouted, but it was much too late. Even the men holding the chains weren’t strong enough to hold the lion as it bounded away. They were dragged forcibly into the bars on the other side of the cage, one man’s nose shattering in the process. The rest of the handlers were at least able to hang on, but it did little good; they were simply dragged along, unable to stop the beast.

The entire affair took only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Maomao. Her father had told her that when humans become intensely afraid, their perception of time slows down. She had just experienced it firsthand. Before she knew what she was doing, she was flinging the packet of medicine that she kept in the folds of her robe.

The lion came running at her. Its wide, bloodshot eyes showed that it was in a heightened state of agitation; it wouldn’t be bothered by a little thing like that. Running away would have been the right answer; throwing something at it was a waste of time. And in the time it took Maomao to come to that conclusion, she realized somebody was clinging desperately to her sleeve.

Oh, shit.

It was Lishu, still paralyzed with fear. This could hardly have been worse. Maomao could easily have shaken out of the consort’s feeble grip. Perhaps she should have.

The next thing she knew, Maomao was tumbling gracelessly along with Lishu. They ended up under a table. It was probably a useless gesture—one swipe of those mighty paws would take out not only the table leg, but probably Maomao and Lishu as well.

Lishu was looking at the lion, unable to even blink. The veil had come off in the fall, and on her face was an empty expression, as if all she could do was wait for her impending death.

Those terrible claws never came to tear them in two, however.

No one moved except the lion, which lazily raised a foreleg high. But then there was a figure between it and Maomao. Somebody holding a broken iron bar.

Before the lion could bring its paw down, the figure smashed it in the nose with the iron bar. There was no hesitation in the action, only a single-minded attempt to strike a place that was vulnerable on both humans and animals. There was a thump, and the lion’s blood flew through the air. It was joined by shards of iron as the bar shattered further.

Again without hesitation, the figure struck out with what was left of the bar, hitting the animal between the eyes. Then the person looked at the shattered bar and said almost nonchalantly, “Well, that didn’t last long.” It was hard to tell whether he was talking about the iron bar, or the lion, which was thrashing about with the pain of its broken nose.

The voice was one Maomao had become quite familiar with during their travels. She had long been wondering what this man was doing as Jinshi’s attendant. She’d always thought there must be people more suited to the task.

But there you have it.

Her wrist still ached where he’d grabbed her days before—and he presumably hadn’t been using his full strength then. He had, after all, managed to break some limbs while apprehending the bandits. As Jinshi had said, he was enough to handle them all on his own. He was right to worry whether women would be afraid of him. Suddenly it all made sense.

Now someone else spoke up, someone with a lovely voice: “Quickly, now’s your chance to recapture it!” The lion keepers responded by wrapping the chains around the pillars holding up the building. Then they brought new chains to make sure the lion was completely restrained.

The man who had attacked the lion tossed the useless iron stick away and crouched down, appearing under the table with a wrinkle in his brow. “Are you all right, milady?” Only after that did the man notice Maomao was there too. He frowned openly. Another thing Maomao had been realizing recently was that he did not consider her to be among the women he was charged with protecting.

His expression quickly shifted again, though, thanks to the young woman next to Maomao.

It was Basen who had attacked the lion with nothing more than an iron bar for a weapon. But now he blushed and didn’t say anything more. It was more or less his usual reaction to any woman more womanly than Maomao, but even so, the silence seemed rather longer than usual.

Consort Lishu, tears beading in her eyes, was blushing too, and didn’t say anything either. Quite a change from the way the color had drained from her face in terror at the lion. Her pallor changed quicker than the sky at twilight, Maomao observed.

And as for Maomao, she didn’t say anything either. The main difference between her and the other two was that her face remained its usual color, although the awkwardness was getting to her a bit.

Um... Hm. Hmmm...

What was going on here? The only thing Maomao could tell for sure was that the other two were so busy blushing at each other that as far as they were concerned, she didn’t exist.

It was like this: in those illustrated novels that had been all the rage in the rear palace, the stories always ended with a picture of the man and the woman together. It was practically a given. The one thing you never saw in an illustration like that was a third wheel.

Get it together! Maomao thought at them. It reminded her of the landlord’s daughter and the quack’s nephew back at the paper village—they hadn’t been able to take a hint either.

For better or worse, the awkwardness was promptly dispelled. With the lion subdued and moved into a new cage, a lot of noisy chattering began.

“Someone call a doctor! We have an injured man here!”

That got Maomao’s attention; she scrambled out from under the table. Consort Lishu was still staring into space and didn’t seem to realize she’d left. When Maomao saw Ah-Duo approaching, it was an even better excuse to make tracks.

She worked her way over to the injured person, thinking maybe it was one of the keepers, but when she got there she discovered Uryuu with a scratch on his cheek.

“Father, be strong! Don’t leave us!” Lishu’s half-sister was clinging to her father and wailing like the heroine of a tragedy.

Uh... It’s just a scratch. Maomao, a look of annoyance on her face, was just about to leave the scene again when the half-sister cried, “How dare he! How dare he injure my poor, beloved father just to stop some silly lion!”

Evidently, the scratch had been inflicted by a piece of flying metal when Basen had brought the iron bar to bear against the animal.

“He hurt my father! He’ll pay for this!” she yelled. It was almost comical; it was obvious she was less concerned for her father’s well-being than she was interested in looking concerned so as to make herself more attractive to the watching crowd. The real issue was who had injured her dear, beloved father.

There was a voice like a sharp blade: “I must apologize for that.” It was beautiful, yes, but what was beautiful could also be terrible. “I see you’ve taken exception to my servant’s actions.” It was Jinshi, a slight frown on his lips; Basen stood behind him, looking stunned. His right hand, the one that had been holding the iron bar, was red and swollen. “However,” Jinshi said, “if he hadn’t intervened, Consort Lishu would have been in danger. I must ask you to forgive his impropriety.”

Jinshi was being extremely reserved. If anything, Uryuu should have been in his debt after Basen had saved his daughter, but Uryuu acted less than impressed. “I see. My thanks, then...”

Consort Lishu was watching her father from behind Ah-Duo. She was obviously anxious for him, knowing he was hurt, but with her sister there she wasn’t willing to get close.

Come to think of it, we still don’t know, do we? Maomao thought, remembering the request Lishu had made of her. There were things even Maomao couldn’t figure out. She’d thought that if she couldn’t work out the truth on their trip, maybe she would write a letter to her old man to ask if he knew any way of ascertaining parentage. The bond between a parent and a child, is it? Maomao thought, letting her gaze settle on Uryuu and the half-sister. The young woman appeared to be trying to figure out a way to walk back her comment, but nothing was coming to her and her mouth simply flapped open and shut.

Boy, she’s got bad teeth. The decay was well advanced, to the point that they had turned black. Maybe it was all those sweet foods. At her age, she certainly didn’t have any baby teeth left; there would be no fixing this. Maomao thought about selling the young woman some toothbrushing powder to help keep it from getting any worse—but hard on the heels of that thought, she had another. Almost before she knew what she was doing, she was standing in front of Uryuu.

“Wh-What are you doing?” the half-sister asked.

Maomao grinned at her. “I’m not a doctor, but I’m something of an apothecary.” Then she grabbed Uryuu’s chin violently. He reacted with intense surprise, but Maomao simply went on, “This scratch is nothing much. Rub some spit into it and it’ll heal, no problem.”

“Sp-Spit?!” Uryuu exclaimed.

She’d only been joking. In fact, human saliva could be toxic itself, so it was best not to use it in one’s medical procedures.

“But how about the inside of your mouth?” she said.

“Hrgh?!” Uryuu exclaimed as she forced his mouth open. She was greeted by a faint whiff of alcohol. She carefully inspected his teeth, which were crooked, as one would expect for a man of his age.

Then Maomao grinned again. “Here, a free bonus.”

“What?” the half-sister said—immediately before Maomao wrenched her mouth open too.

Geez! Clean your teeth! Maomao thought. It wasn’t just the young woman’s front teeth—the ones in back were in pretty bad shape too. Was that why she was always covering her mouth with her folding fan—to conceal the state of her teeth? This was one overindulged young woman. But now wasn’t the time to be thinking about how to do effective dental treatment.

Finally, Maomao stood up and marched over to Lishu. “One for the road.”

Lishu couldn’t speak for shock as Maomao opened her mouth, revealing a set of small, white teeth. Her nurse must have had a good sense of discipline, because her teeth were still clean.

“Wh-What do you think you’re doing?” the half-sister demanded, but Maomao ignored her and returned to Uryuu.

“Do you know how many teeth your late wife had?” she asked.

“How the hell am I supposed to know that?” he demanded, giving her a don’t-ask-me-stupid-questions look.

“Fair enough,” Maomao said. “But she wouldn’t happen to have been missing a front tooth, would she? Like you?”

At that, Uryuu’s expression changed.

In general, human adults have between twenty-eight and thirty-two teeth, depending on whether their wisdom teeth—the ones farthest back in the mouth—come in or not. But every once in a while, someone may have fewer than twenty-eight teeth. In about one out of every ten people, other teeth besides the wisdom teeth fail to come in. The exact reason for the phenomenon was unknown, but often the trait was passed from parents to children. An inheritance, as it were.

“You might be interested to know, Master Uryuu, that you, this young lady here, and Consort Lishu are all missing a lower front tooth. Considering how the teeth fit in the mouth, I think you were each born that way.”

Maomao had felt like something was a little off when she looked in Lishu’s mouth—that’s what it had been. Teeth were essential to living a healthy life. If they went bad, toxins could even enter the body from them and make a person ill. When a person lost their teeth and could no longer eat easily, that was when they began to waste away.

If the chances of a naturally missing tooth were one in ten, it was always possible that any three given people would each be among that ten percent. However, for them all to be in the same place, and all missing the same relatively unusual tooth? It started to look a lot less like coincidence.

“Relatives often share certain traits. For example, Consort Lishu can’t eat white fish. You wouldn’t happen to have the same dietary restriction, would you?”

“How did you know that?” Uryuu asked suspiciously.

“Simple enough. I observed how upset you were by the fish platter at dinner. I can hardly think a man as old and no doubt mature as yourself would react like that simply because he didn’t like the food.” She recalled how he’d sent the tray of fish flying. “And I’m certainly confident that no high official of this nation would treat someone so poorly because of simple personal preferences or misunderstandings.” Maomao smiled thinly and looked from Uryuu to Lishu and back. “Perhaps you might show your other daughter some parental affection from time to time.”

Maybe, she thought, she’d gone a little far. But now, even the densest listener would grasp her point.

I hope that’ll do the trick.

She had provided as much of an answer as she could.