The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 6 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Wrapping Up in the Western Capital

“Shall I take that to mean I should come to the capital sometime?” Gyokuen asked.

“Yes, that would be correct,” Jinshi responded.

They were in Gyokuen’s annex, a pleasant, cool place facing a pond. It was just the two of them; Basen and their various bodyguards were outside. Neither man had anything resembling a weapon—this was their chance to talk to each other in complete and full confidence.

Jinshi reflected on how difficult this was as he picked his words. He was the Emperor’s younger brother, and though Gyokuen might be the Empress’s father, Jinshi still outranked him. The problem was, he constantly felt like he was about to slip back into the more deferential tone of a eunuch.

Everyone else had gone, leaving Jinshi and Basen in the western capital, where Jinshi proceeded to take care of one thing and then another; diligent, methodical.

“Yes, it’s just as you imagine. Especially considering the accession of Empress Gyokuyou, the feeling is that it would be best if you had a name as soon as possible.”

The consort had become Empress, but her official presentation had been delayed on two grounds: one, that Empress Gyokuyou had thick western blood; and two, that Gyokuen still lacked a family name. There wasn’t much to be done about the former, but as to the latter, the obvious solution was simply to hurry up and give him one. The subject ought to have been addressed sooner, but with so many guests, it ended up being put off until after everyone had gone home.

Gyokuen had probably known this was coming. The idea had been in the air, and the more perceptive might have guessed Jinshi would do something like this. Jinshi had wondered if Uryuu might try to object, but the incident with his own daughter had left him without a leg to stand on. Lishu might have been a family member, but she was also the Emperor’s consort, and acting maliciously toward her would be neither permitted nor forgiven. Worse was his transparent attempt to destroy the evidence. And this when Consort Lishu’s ladies-in-waiting at the rear palace still played pranks on her on a regular basis. And to top it all off, Uryuu himself seemed far more partial to Lishu’s older sister.

Normally, this would have brought punishment down upon their heads, but Consort Lishu hadn’t wanted that. So instead, the matter was dropped—and the U clan was left owing a favor.

Gyokuen looked briefly thrilled to know he would be granted a name, but then his eyebrows drooped. Jinshi couldn’t be sure whether it was an act or a genuine reaction, but either way it meant he wasn’t going to simply accept the offer wholeheartedly.

Jinshi understood perfectly well why that was, but he pretended not to. “Is something the matter?” he asked.

“No, it’s simply... Again, this means I would have to go to the capital, does it not?”

“Yes, it does.”

Even the most urgent trip from the western reaches to the capital and back would take at least a month, a difficult prospect for Gyokuen, who was supposed to be governing this area. Yet he also understood that he didn’t have the option of turning this offer down.

Gyokuen had a son, a man substantially older than Empress Gyokuyou by another woman. Although unlike the U children, Gyokuyou and her brother seemed to get along.

“I do have a son, and if all seems quiet, he shouldn’t have any trouble here in my stead...”

Yes, if all seemed quiet. There was the rub.

It was very clear why Gyokuyou had been made Empress: the Emperor wished to focus on what was happening in the west. Beyond the western capital was the land of Shaoh.

Shaoh was not such an issue in and of itself; the real problem was the country that stretched above it: Hokuaren. The Emperor would bind himself to Gyokuen’s clan in order to strengthen the western border, but if anything were to happen while the clan leader was away—well, the prospect was frightening. Neither could Gyokuen’s son travel to the capital in his father’s place; it was expected to be the head of the clan who appeared to receive the name.

Some argued for ignoring such moldy old customs, but it was Empress Gyokuyou who was likely to suffer if her father chose to break with precedent.

Gyokuen was and had always been a functionary from the western capital. He held a fair amount of territory, to be sure, but in the eyes of many officials in the royal capital, he still occupied a provincial post on the fringes of the country, no matter how much land it might come with. His swift rise to prominence after the destruction of the Yi clan couldn’t be denied, but it was also the source of much resentment and resistance against him.

“I’m very sorry, but I must ask that you come regardless,” Jinshi said. He did feel for the man, but it was the only way. Jinshi, as well as the Emperor, knew they were asking something almost impossible of Gyokuen, but the demand didn’t come from them. It came from the high officials in the capital. Perhaps including several with relatives in the rear palace.

“This is only the first part of their plan to punish an upstart rube, I suppose,” Gyokuen said, yet he looked more or less relaxed. Perhaps if you couldn’t handle needling of this kind, you simply didn’t have the disposition for politics. The word “upstart” might be taken to imply a weak position, but that didn’t seem to be true of Gyokuen. “In any case, I understand,” he said.

He’d known he’d get this answer eventually, but actually hearing the words gave Jinshi a rush of relief. However, Gyokuen wasn’t finished.

“If I may, though, I’d like to stipulate a condition.”

“A condition?”

“Yes. I’d like my son to have someone to help him. He’s known only the western lands his whole life, and has little experience of the world. If possible, I’d like him to be attended by someone with knowledge of the central region.”

In other words: I’m going to do this impossible thing you ask, so give me some decent personnel in exchange.

“Hmm. Yes, that seems reasonable. Did you have anyone particular in mind?”

It was, in fact, an understandable request. Gyokuen’s son would one day succeed him, and he would need to know about life in the region around the capital, even if his knowledge thereof was only minimal.

“Yes. During the banquet, young Basen seemed like an entirely different person when he threw himself in front of that lion.”

“Ah, him? He’s...”

If Gyokuen had his eye on Basen, that could be a problem. He might not look like much, but he was very important to Jinshi, someone who could speak frankly to him and around whom Jinshi could relax.

“Please don’t misunderstand me; that’s not what I’m asking. I would never seek something so far beyond my station as to have a member of the Ma clan attend upon my son,” Gyokuen said quickly, grasping the import of Jinshi’s reaction.

The Ma were one of the named clans, and yet they never became ministers or occupied other high offices. Instead, they existed to serve the Imperial family. The matter might have been open had Basen come from a family with no name, but as a member of the Ma clan, he was assured that he would somehow be involved with the Imperial family—and not with anyone else. Gyokuen was quick to deny that he was asking for a member of Basen’s clan to help him, because to do so would have been to claim that his family was coequal with the Emperor’s—a claim that would have bordered on treasonous.

“I was merely impressed,” Gyokuen continued. “I don’t know how many men there are who could act so decisively when confronted with a wild animal instead of trembling in terror.”

Gyokuen’s remark was simple, earnest praise, it appeared. It felt somewhat strange to hear someone laud Basen so unreservedly, but Jinshi agreed with him: for as easily as he got out of sorts under most circumstances, when push came to shove Basen showed remarkable composure. He’d acted quickly, as well. The more dangerous a situation, the more one acted not on thought but on instinct, and Basen’s instincts had not steered him wrong. He deserved a good word.

Truth be told, in martial training, Jinshi and Basen were roughly on equal footing. Jinshi had more refined technique, so in formal contests he was often the victor. If they were ever in an actual fight, though, he had no confidence he could best Basen. This also explained why Gaoshun had assigned Basen to Jinshi despite his inexperience.

“It would certainly put a person’s mind at ease to have someone so capable guarding them.” Gyokuen, who wasn’t privy to Basen’s idiosyncrasies, was full of praise.

“Oh? I’ll have to be sure to let Basen know,” was all Jinshi said, and then he began thinking about possible candidates. If Gyokuen had come to him personally, he must have at least had someone in mind. “Now then, what sort of person were you hoping to have attend your son?”

Openly and directly, that was the way to handle this situation. Gyokuen nodded slowly. “I was hoping I might ask for someone in the capital.”

“Hoh. And who might that be?”

Did Gyokuen have some acquaintance in the capital city, or had Empress Gyokuyou put in a good word for somebody? The Empress was a sharp-eyed woman, and it wouldn’t have surprised Jinshi if she’d found some good help and was trying to send them back to her home.

Gyokuen smiled—and then said something unbelievable. “Perhaps you could prevail upon Sir Lakan in this matter?”

It was all Jinshi could do to keep the dismay off his face.

After he parted ways with Gyokuen, Jinshi returned to his guest room and slumped on the couch. “That should be the last of it,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

If Gaoshun had been there, Jinshi might have taken the opportunity to get a wide variety of complaints off his chest, but no; only Basen was present. He, too, seemed on edge, sighing audibly.

The capital could be suffocating in its own way, but it was better than being stuck here. Jinshi at least felt a little easier having sent Consort Lishu and the others on ahead. His one miscalculation had been allowing the apothecary girl to be taken away just because someone had played the “older brother” card.

Admittedly, her absence was a relief in one way, but at the same time, it unsettled him. Yet he could practically see what the girl, almost a full shaku shorter than him, would do to him if he hurried now. He would have to make the most of this situation.

“Would you like some fruit juice, sir?” Basen asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

Basen falteringly got the juice ready. While Jinshi was away, servants came in to make the bed and take care of other sundry tasks, but when he was in the room, Jinshi preferred servants not to enter unless absolutely necessary. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the staff of Gyokuen’s house; he’d simply had enough unpleasant experiences in the past that he preferred to avoid the presence of servants. Perhaps Gyokuen had found this out via Empress Gyokuyou, for no member of the household staff appeared at Jinshi’s door unless he summoned them.

As far as testing his food for poison, the bodyguard outside would take a mouthful, and Basen would have another. It was largely for form’s sake; against a slow-acting poison, the exercise would be pointless. As far as that went, he would just have to trust Gyokuen.

Jinshi let the sour juice sit on his tongue as he vacantly contemplated the next day. He would finally be able to return to the capital, and going back should be a much quicker trip than coming out here had been. Jinshi personally preferred traveling by land to going by ship, but if it could save that much time, then by ship it was.

He did want to hurry and get home, but people here kept drawing things out with him, hoping to get his attention. His return date had slipped in part because of the commotion at the banquet and later the matter of the funeral, but there was also just plain old politicking involved. Perhaps that was part of why Gyokuen had left his own business until now: in the western capital, his name made it easy to get away. One need only say, “I’m afraid I have a meeting with Gyokuen after this.”

Nonetheless, there was no end of people who brought their daughters or younger sisters to pour drinks for him, or who came accompanied by foreign-looking women oozing exotic beauty. Some of their perfumes must have contained aphrodisiac ingredients, because Basen, who was particularly sensitive to such things, didn’t touch his drink; he simply sat there, red all over. He was convenient, in a way, as a sort of litmus test.

Even though Basen was Jinshi’s milk brother and an old friend, there were still some criticisms of him Jinshi could have offered. The other day—during the incident that had invited such a terrific misunderstanding on Ah-Duo’s part—Jinshi had thought that perhaps Basen had finally grown up a little, but he seemed to have been wrong about that. The young man remained a late bloomer when it came to women his own age. Only with Maomao did he seem completely at ease, and in a way, that might only have been a sign that he couldn’t imagine himself breaking her.

Jinshi himself felt that, notwithstanding her imperviousness to poisons, she was still a small and delicate-looking girl who seemed as fragile as the next young woman—but strangely, he found he couldn’t imagine her breaking like that. Maybe because he’d seen her laugh uproariously as she took poison, or come back from being kidnapped looking as calm as if she’d been away running errands, and on and on.

Simple enough: Basen didn’t see the apothecary girl as a woman. But Jinshi was conflicted. By Basen’s age, his father Gaoshun had already had three children. To think that a man so clearly, ahem, active among women should have a son like this... And Basen’s older sister and older brother were already married.

Jinshi drained his cup and looked at Basen. “Aren’t you being pestered about getting married yet?”

Basen frowned, caught off guard by Jinshi’s question. It was plain to see. Basen’s mother had been Jinshi’s nursemaid, so he was well acquainted with the type of person she was—a woman forceful enough that Gaoshun sometimes described his own wife as a scary lady.

Basen paled and began sweating profusely, even trembling. Jinshi seemed to have provoked some bad memories.

“I’ve been, w-well, encouraged to go to some arranged meetings.”

“With upstanding young ladies, I’m sure,” Jinshi said. His expression didn’t change, but inwardly he grinned. The questions had all been coming his way lately; it was fun to be on the giving end for once. “You were at least shown portraits of them?”

“Yes... I was willing to look, if nothing more,” Basen said.

Perhaps that was wise. A picture could easily “improve” upon reality. One could very well be talked into a meeting on false pretenses, after which the other side might try to claim Basen was committed. And Basen, being who he was, was so hardheaded that once a “relationship” like that had been established, he would probably feel responsible to the woman for the rest of his life.

Basen’s brow furrowed and he looked conflicted. He cast his eyes down and stared at his bandaged right hand. After a long moment he said, “I’m still so inexperienced. I think it may be a little...soon for me to be thinking about women.”

It was a truly pathetic pronouncement, but as Jinshi watched Basen, he regretted teasing his friend. “Is that still bothering you?” he asked.

Basen didn’t say anything.

Jinshi knew: Basen’s discomfort around women had something to do with his mother and his older sister. And, in a way, Jinshi as well.

Because Basen’s own mother had spent all her time tending Jinshi, Basen had been looked after by his sister, two years older than him, and a serving woman. It’s practically a child’s job to beg and plead and indulge his own desires, but things were a little different with Basen.

Sometimes a warrior in battle would transcend mere training: in a moment of crisis, his enemy’s movements might appear slow, or he might seem immune to pain. Typically, such powers were gained from endless honing of himself as a warrior, but Basen seemed to have been born with them. Was it just coincidence, or did it come of being the son of a household with a military tradition stretching back centuries? Whichever, Basen’s abilities could only be called something instinctive.

Once, when Basen had been set on seeing his mother, those abilities had been turned upon his sister and the serving woman. Usually, they were able to talk him down from his tantrums, but not that time. With his child’s hand, small and red like a maple leaf, Basen had grabbed his sister’s arm—and broken it.

He had been just six at the time, and he broke one of his own fingers in the act. He was so strong, the kickback from his own action had been just that powerful.

On account of that incident, Basen began to live separately from his older sister and brother. Jinshi first met him shortly after that, and initially considered him a rather cold and distant person—but of course he was; Jinshi had all but stolen his mother from him. That they were then to be instructed in swordsmanship together was partly to foster closeness between them, and partly an act of mercy toward Basen.

Jinshi first heard this story when he was more than ten years old, after Gaoshun had seen him teasing Basen for trying to keep his distance from the ladies-in-waiting.

“Women are such fragile creatures,” Basen said. “I think it’s too soon for me.”

What could Jinshi say to that? There was nothing. Instead, he held out his cup, silently asking for more juice.