The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 7 - Chapter Pr

Character Profiles
Maomao
An apothecary in the pleasure district. Downright obsessed with medicines and poisons, but largely uninterested in other matters. Nineteen years old.

Jinshi
The Emperor’s younger brother. Inhumanly beautiful. He can’t get Maomao off his mind, but by hook or by crook, she always manages to evade him. Real name: Ka Zuigetsu. Twenty years old.

Basen
Gaoshun’s son; Jinshi’s attendant. Doesn’t feel pain as acutely as most people, which gives him far greater physical limits than most have. He’s very serious, but that makes him easy to tweak. In love with Consort Lishu.

Gaoshun
Basen’s father. A well-built soldier, he was formerly Jinshi’s attendant, but now he serves the Emperor personally.

Lakan
Maomao’s father and Luomen’s nephew. A freak with a monocle. He’s a high-ranking member of the military, but his bizarre behavior causes people to avoid him.

Lahan
Lakan’s nephew and adopted son. A small man with round glasses, he has a soft spot for beautiful women and will try to chat them up anytime he sees one, never mind that his looks don’t match theirs.

Luomen
Maomao’s adoptive father; Lakan’s uncle. Once a eunuch in the rear palace, he now serves as a court physician. He’s missing one kneecap, a punishment inflicted on him many years ago.

Ah-Duo
Formerly one of the Emperor’s four favored consorts. A handsome woman who dresses in men’s clothing. Thirty-seven years old.

Empress Gyokuyou
The Emperor’s legal wife. An exotic beauty with red hair and green eyes. Twenty-one years old.

Consort Lihua
One of the Emperor’s consorts. Has a bountiful bosom. Twenty-five years old.

Kokuyou
A doctor. He’s handsome enough but has smallpox scars over half his face. He’s suspiciously cheerful for a man with such a tragic past.

Aylin
Formerly an emissary from Shaoh. A beautiful woman with golden hair and blue eyes, she fled to Li for asylum after losing a political battle.

The Madam
The old lady who runs the Verdigris House. Terrifying when angry.

The Emperor
A real go-getter and possessor of prodigious facial hair. Prefers his women well-endowed. Thirty-six years old.

The Quack
A eunuch in the rear palace and its resident physician. A plump older fellow with a mustache that resembles a loach’s whiskers.
 

Prologue

Jazgul’s mouth hung open in amazement at the biggest boat she had ever seen in her life.

The boat was going to go down the river, go out to the sea, and then travel to a neighboring country, or so she was told. Jazgul was going to spend many days on the boat, more days than she could count on the fingers of both hands (which was as high as Jazgul could count). There were many people around who had come to see them off.

The boat was splendid. She had never dreamed she might ever ride on such a vessel. She came from a poor family; her parents had given her nothing but her name and the most meager of meals each day. Then, finally, they had sold her as a slave.

Jazgul couldn’t speak. She could hear, but for some reason, she’d had no voice since the day she was born. She could work, albeit perhaps not as hard as many people. But her family had lacked the means to support her.

Jazgul had been sure she would become a “concubine.” She wasn’t so bad looking, and if her nose was a little bit low, well, her overall appearance was charming enough to make up for it. Yes, being a concubine would make her happy. It wasn’t like being a “prostitute”; those had to work all the time, every day. A concubine, she’d heard, had just one man to please.

Thus when she had been brought to the large house, she’d been overjoyed, sure that she was about to become a concubine.

“What a pleasure to have you here” was the greeting with which she was received at that house. She’d heard that its owner was a regular old pervert, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Instead, she found herself serving someone very, very lovely. Someone with pure, white hair and who was the slightest bit plump.

No one was upset that Jazgul couldn’t speak and didn’t know how to read or write. Instead, she was given expensive paper and lots of ink and told that if she couldn’t write, she should draw pictures instead.

She learned her duties diligently so that she might be of use in this place, and while she learned, she was able to eat plenty of food and wear beautiful clothing. She discovered that she served someone very kind, and that drawing pictures was great fun. She would draw the scenery outside, or the owner of the house, or the senior servants. And, every once in a while, she would draw something she had seen in a dream. She’d had a dream once about riding on a boat, one just as big as the one in front of her now. When she drew that picture, the owner told her that it was an especially good one.

Yes, she had found very good work.

She was asked whether she wished to go with her mistress on a boat to a far country, and she decided that she did. She’d been on a boat once, after she’d been sold into slavery, but it had been awful. This boat looked much more fun. She hadn’t gotten seasick even on the slave boat, so she didn’t think there would be any problem with this one. But this person Jazgul served was frail and weak, so Jazgul would have to work extra hard and be extra energetic.

The person she served was sick, she gathered, with pale skin, white hair, and eyes as red as the flesh of a fruit. Skin that turned red and burned in the midday sun; this person couldn’t even endure very bright places. But white skin and hair and red eyes were the signs of being chosen by God, and that made them special. Her mistress insisted the traits were not a burden. Jazgul thought her mistress lucky, and as if able to read her thoughts, a pale hand reached out and stroked her throat, and she was told that she, too, was special. She had something even more special than a voice. The thought made her very happy.

This person Jazgul served was very important, someone who had the ear of the king. Why would someone so important have to go so far away? The reason was work. They were so special that they could do things the king could not.

Jazgul served somebody very intelligent, who taught her many different things—but she found that the other ladies-in-waiting started to give her nasty looks if she spent too long with the mistress, so she couldn’t be there very much.

“Hey, you ready?” called a hulking man who must have been one of the sailors.

Jazgul was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. She was so eager to get on the boat. Would this strange, distant land be full of spreading greenery like she’d seen in her dream?

“Jazgul,” a voice said, and she started: her mistress was there, wearing a veil so as to evade the sun. Her face was covered in copious amounts of salve, and an attendant diligently stayed close with an umbrella. The woman had to stand on her tiptoes, though—their mistress was almost a head taller than the lady-in-waiting.

“Honored shrine maiden, please board the ship quickly, if you would. Your skin will burn.”

“Yes, I understand.”

The skin-scorching sun was fearsome, but the breeze outside was pleasant. Red eyes squinted against the light.

Jazgul had it on good authority that the shrine maiden was already more than forty years old. Old enough for a person to be a grandmother or grandfather in Jazgul’s village, where people rarely lived very long. In fact, Jazgul’s parents were about that old. Their skin was tanned and wrinkled from long years of field work and tending livestock. The shrine maiden’s lovely skin looked quite young by comparison. Perhaps she had been thinner some long time ago, but now she had a touch of paunch. That was a sign of wealth, and in Jazgul’s village, would have been considered quite beautiful.

“This country we’re going to—it has far more water than Shaoh.”

Jazgul nodded obediently. The other ladies-in-waiting had told her that when she had decided to go.

“They grow wheat and rice there, and it’s ever so green.”

Grain crops were a luxury; even those who grew them found most of the fruits of their labor taken as taxes, and never got to taste them. Shaoh’s urban center bustled with trade, but one didn’t have to go far to find no end of indigent villages. When the bugs started to multiply, starvation was quick to follow. Jazgul herself had been sold because her family couldn’t grow enough to eat.

It was very important that they become friends with a country that had lots of food. That was why the honored shrine maiden was going on this lengthy journey. They spoke a different language in this new country, but Jazgul couldn’t speak anyway, so she wouldn’t have to talk. She would, though, have to focus on learning to listen.

The shrine maiden looked at Jazgul and patted her head. Jazgul closed her eyes and smiled like a contented goat kid.

“I wonder, what kind of dreams did you dream last night?”

She’d dreamed of walking through a town abounding with beautiful water. Later, on the boat, there would be time to draw a picture.

As the sailors bustled about getting ready to go, Jazgul, the other ladies, and the shrine maiden made their way to their cabin.