The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 7 - Chapter 22

Chapter 22: The Future Shrine Maiden

The bones clattered as they were placed in the ceramic jar. It could fit only a few shards, barely enough to fill both palms.

Hair white as a decorative tassel was held back with a woven blue hairband.

The nameless girl whose bones were now in the jar had surely never dreamed that she would go on to be venerated in a far country. She would never have envisioned the crowds of people attending the departure of her remains, couldn’t have imagined the songs of peace and rest sung for her repose as her bones went on their way.

As she left the scene, Maomao touched the black sash she was wearing, a sign of loss—but no more than a sign. 

After all that had happened, the shrine maiden died as planned. Not only Maomao, but even her father had been present to inspect the body. Had it been any other physician, Maomao had intended to have the shrine maiden take the drug that made one truly die for a brief period.

But my old man would never be fooled. She felt bad for threatening the shrine maiden, but she also knew that her father was a very soft touch where people’s lives were concerned. She made him something like her coconspirator.

As for the real shrine maiden...

“Is this place acceptable to you, shrine maiden?” asked Jinshi. He wasn’t sure what to call her now that she was no longer in office, but settled on continuing to use her former title. Since she no longer occupied her sacred position, men like Jinshi could now approach her.

They were in a room with layers of curtains, specially prepared to shield her from the sunlight. “Yes, it’s quite tranquil,” she said.

“I’m glad to hear that. I would be happy to change any of the furnishings if they don’t meet your needs,” said a handsome person in men’s clothing from behind Jinshi—Ah-Duo. Her villa was fast becoming a haven for people like the shrine maiden who couldn’t appear in public. The Emperor still visited Ah-Duo from time to time, for although she was no longer a consort, she was far sharper and more thoughtful than the average bumbling bureaucrat. Then again, perhaps His Majesty simply wanted a friend with whom to share a drink.

They had every reason to keep the shrine maiden in such a place. She hadn’t wished to give up her office while within Shaoh’s borders. Instead, she had traveled abroad to die and let her body disappear. Political asylum had been out of the question for her; her authority as shrine maiden would have plummeted. Perhaps she had sought death because she felt there was no more she could do in her position.

But that’s not true.

Did she realize how valuable she could be by continuing to occupy the top of her hierarchy, even here in a foreign country? Even once she had publicly stepped off the stage? All that she knew, all the information she had gleaned over decades, was a priceless resource. Perhaps it felt to her like she was betraying the land where she had lived so many years—but she was not in a position to say so at this moment.

“You’ll honor the terms of our agreement?” Jinshi said, polite but firm.

“Of course. Have you not two hostages against me?” the shrine maiden replied. She was thinking of the White Lady and Aylin, both under arrest as criminals. Considering what they had done, it would have been and would still be perfectly ordinary to behead them at any moment. “I do request your aid to Shaoh, however.” An audacious thing to say.

“If what you share with us makes it worth our while.” Jinshi gave her his most luminous smile. It might not work on the shrine maiden, who was in some way beyond gender, but it somehow looked blinding even in her dim chamber.

There was no foul and fair in politics, only things that ended well or not. Situations like this one were hardly uncommon.

Maomao began to follow Jinshi as he left the room, but she turned back when the shrine maiden said, “Ah, may I have a moment?” She was holding some sort of scroll. “Take this.” She gave it not to Jinshi, but to Maomao, who opened it, wondering what it could be. It was a simple roll of several sheets of sheepskin parchment, each covered with crude drawings.

“A child’s scribbles?” Maomao asked before she could stop herself.

“Yes,” the shrine maiden said. Maomao tried to remember whether there had been any children around—and her eyes widened as she remembered. There was. One. The girl with no speech who had been with the attendant that day. Jazgul or something like that. Maomao remembered how she and her friends had sweated to find the child’s guardian. I haven’t seen her around the villa, though...

Maomao looked at Jazgul’s pictures, wondering what significance they held. “Hrm?” she grunted. One of the images, drawn in dyes, showed two people wearing white clothes. Young women, Maomao thought. One of them had bandages wrapped around her arm. “Is this...me?” she asked.

“It is.”

If Jazgul had drawn her and Yao, Maomao supposed she was obliged to accept the picture. It was strange, though—when they’d met Jazgul, En’en had been with them. And none of them had been wearing their medical-assistant outfits. As she puzzled over this mystery, Maomao noticed some numbers on the back of the parchment. Probably a date, but written in numerals she didn’t recognize.

“So...what is this?” she asked.

“Jazgul drew it before we left Shaoh.”

“Before you left?” But that didn’t make any sense. That would have been long before she’d met Maomao and the others. Was the shrine maiden making some kind of joke?

For once, the shrine maiden appeared amused. “Did I not tell you that when I was gone, there would be another shrine maiden? That day, the day she got lost, Jazgul was uncharacteristically demanding. She insisted on going out. To meet you, I’m sure.”

“I... I highly doubt that.” Maomao only believed things for which there was concrete evidence. The shrine maiden must be joking; she was sure of it. She rolled up the first parchment. The second sheet depicted a shining figure who looked like the shrine maiden, along with a slim figure and another scrawled illustration of Maomao. Precisely the people in this room at this moment.

Maomao didn’t say anything but only gazed at the parchment. “There’s one more. Study it closely when you have the time,” the shrine maiden advised.

Maomao stood, almost befuddled; she didn’t know what to say.

The shrine maiden continued, “I wish for you to know that I, too, had it, once upon a time. The shrine maidens of Shaoh lack something, but there is something else they possess instead. I have no color in my skin, and Jazgul has no voice. Although I am afraid my abilities vanished from the moment I learned the truth about who I was.” The shrine maiden was evidently a quick learner, for she’d become much more fluent in the local language during her brief stay.

Maomao was still standing dumbstruck when Jinshi came back into the room. “What’s keeping you? Let’s go,” he said.

“Right... Of course,” Maomao said and followed after him. Jinshi gave her a curious look but went ahead. He must not have heard what the shrine maiden had said.

The shrine maiden... Who is she, really? Maomao wondered. There had to be some sort of logical explanation, but if so, Maomao didn’t know what it was. She was still thinking about it as she climbed into the carriage. Maybe the pictures were a coincidence; maybe the shrine maiden was straining to make them fit the circumstances.

Sitting in the carriage, Maomao turned to the final sheet of parchment, but it was as perplexing as the rest.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Jinshi asked.

“Beats me,” she said.

The “picture” consisted only of a line across the page, the space above which had been scribbled black.