The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 8 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Cards

“If you have a trump card to play,” Maamei had said to Jinshi, “it’s better to use it sooner than later.”

Prompted by her remark, Jinshi found himself outside Lakan’s office. He’d sent a messenger the day before to alert him to his business, but to be completely honest, he wasn’t sure if the Grand Commandant was going to be there. He probably wasn’t, he thought as he entered.

“Pardon me,” he said.

To his surprise the eccentric strategist was there, lying on a couch and sipping from a gourd. To all appearances he was quite at his ease, but a secretary placed some paperwork sheet by sheet on a table and gave Lakan a stamp to press on them. “Ah, His Majesty’s esteemed younger brother. And how might I help you?” Lakan drawled.

Jinshi wasn’t sure how Lakan had recognized him—maybe it was because of the messenger he’d sent. Maomao had told him the strategist was abysmal at telling one face from another.

If Jinshi were to behave the way the strategist did, he was sure Basen would take him to task for it. And he wished Lakan would stop using mooncakes as paperweights. They left little round oil stains on the documents.

Basen wasn’t there at the moment; Jinshi had a different bodyguard. He’d been pretty sure Basen would never get along with the strategist, but he’d also been warned against going to see Lakan completely unprotected.

He had another companion as well—Maamei. Lakan spared each of them a glance before returning his gaze to Jinshi. It was abundantly clear he didn’t like what—or whom—he was seeing.

“Please, be seated. No one wants to talk standing up. Come, now, not even any snacks for our guests?” He was being completely reasonable, but the juice he poured for them came out of his gourd—the one he’d been drinking from until a second ago. Didn’t he remember getting food poisoning from drinking directly from the container? His aide rushed to get fresh drinks.

Mister Monocle made a show of stroking his unkempt beard. “Now, what brings you here today?”

“It sounds like you’re planning a most interesting event—but in a less than ideal location.” Jinshi pulled out the piece of paper that had been tucked in the pages of the Go book and placed it on the table. “Did you get official permission to use one of the palace lecture halls?”

“Oh, that.” Lakan looked away, and his lower lip stuck out a little, almost like he was pouting. “I’m the one in charge. If there were any objections, I might have expected them to come from Old Lo. Surely this is outside the Imperial younger brother’s purview.”

It’s none of your business, so screw off, seemed to be the message.

Jinshi’s smile never faltered, even as he knew he was dealing with someone who saw people’s faces as Go stones. Against Lakan, he was robbed of the one weapon in his arsenal in which he had complete confidence—but the strategist’s aide promptly flushed and looked at the ground.

“I wouldn’t expect someone as serious and hardworking as yourself to understand, but ever since the envoys from the west went home, people have been starved for entertainment,” Lakan said.

“Starved? There are more trade goods available than ever before.” Everything Jinshi had heard told him that the shops were full of unusual items and the markets were bustling.

“Ha ha. That may be so, but a fine meal leaves a diner craving the next great dish, and such memorable happenings have left the people seeking something more. Something even better to amuse the tongue or dazzle the eye. Let it be said that exotic goods from foreign lands are of scant use when one has no money in one’s pocket to buy them. And taxes have crept up lately, bit by bit. It’s a subtle thing, but I gather the rates are growing onerous out in the farming villages. And what are these strange new laws I hear about? Encouragements to eat insects? I don’t prefer six-legged dishes myself, but perhaps you do, honored brother of the Emperor?”

Jinshi said nothing.

“Go is a simple pleasure, something one can indulge in with nothing but a few stones. Doesn’t it seem the perfect way to disperse the malaise that hangs over the people?”

Lakan was hitting him where it hurt. Having tried the malnourished grasshoppers himself, well—if you asked Jinshi whether they were good or bad, his answer would emphatically not be the former. Likewise, the increase in taxes was a hedge against grain shortages. The tax hike was the one proposal of his that had passed readily. He wasn’t sure what that said.

By this point, Basen would have been all over Lakan. Jinshi had been right to leave him behind. He took a deep breath and, still smiling, said, “I think you’re laboring under some kind of misapprehension, Sir Lakan.” He let his fingers slide along the leaflet, stopping on the word Location. “I have no qualms with the tournament itself. Only with where it’s being held.”

“Well, what do you want me to do? Where should I hold it? I’m a man of few friends. I don’t have the connections to bring the merchants around to my point of view.”

Jinshi knew that very well. He did, however, think Lakan might have had at least one friend who could help him in this situation—but this wasn’t the time. “Let me suggest this venue,” he said, producing a piece of paper on which was written Argent Theatre. It was the same place where the White Lady had displayed her miracles, but it had been closed ever since her arrest. It had a prime location along a major thoroughfare, the perfect place for a competition like Lakan’s. The whole matter involving the White Lady had been left to Jinshi, for reasons he didn’t fully understand. But he was pleased that the piecemeal work he’d been given was finally proving helpful in some way.

The Argent Theatre was the “trump card” to which Maamei had so astutely alerted him. The place couldn’t remain closed forever, she’d said, and, even if one did suspect the theater owner of being in league with the White Lady, in her opinion they’d been punished quite enough.

Now, there were civil officials who had been poisoned by the White Lady; the owner was never going to get off simply by claiming he’d only given her a place to perform and had known nothing about what her act involved. Basen had been irate at Maamei’s suggestion, but his sister had replied: “There’s more to politics than punishing people. We get him to play along, do everything he can for us. If we’re careful about how we squeeze him, he’ll thank us and ask us for more. Isn’t that what a wise ruler would do? And if there are any problems, it’s Grand Commandant Kan running the show. There should be plenty of soldiers around to curtail any trouble.”

Lakan himself was a profound hassle to deal with, but of fine subordinates he had an abundance. There would be people to help out on the day. Plenty of military types to contain any problems that arose.

If Maamei had been a man, she would have been Jinshi’s aide, and he would have trusted her implicitly. She was quick-witted and had studied swordsmanship until she got married. Unlike her brothers, each of whom inclined a little too far to either mind or muscles, Maamei seemed able to do anything.

Lakan scowled, but he looked intrigued by Jinshi’s suggestion. “The Argent Theatre? What’s that?” he asked. His question was directed not at Jinshi, but at his solicitous bureaucrat. Jinshi had been under the impression that the Argent was fairly well-known. He was surprised Lakan hadn’t heard of it.

“It’s a theater in the north of the capital, near the residential area. It is, however, currently closed after a series of performances there by a miracle-worker called the White Lady,” the other man said.

“The White Lady?”

Jinshi knew Maomao made no effort to remember things that didn’t interest her, but Lakan went above and beyond. Jinshi could hardly believe that he had no recollection of someone who had caused so much commotion.

“It’s the place Rikuson went with Master Lahan and Miss Maomao,” the aide advised him.

“Ah! That place!” the strategist said, leaping off his couch and pounding the table. He was shaking with rage now that he remembered it. Jinshi suspected he’d wanted to go there too.

“Might I continue?” Jinshi asked with mounting annoyance. Lakan looked put out, but sat down. “The Argent would be a perfect location. More than enough space. Far preferable to the lecture hall, which would be accessible only to those permitted to enter the palace.”

“You’re saying you’d approve the event there?”

“Yes. It’s currently shut down, but I can have it opened again. I came to ask for your opinion, however. Instead of simply allowing them to resume their normal activities, might it not be better to hold an event there ourselves, overseen by someone who could keep things in check if need be?”

Everything Jinshi was saying was true, as far as it went. And no further. He felt a trickle of cold sweat: Lakan might not be able to judge people’s expressions, but he had other ways of knowing what was going on. Other gifts that compensated for his inability to distinguish faces. For one thing, he was exceptionally good at sniffing out lies.

At the moment, Lakan was staring at Jinshi as if trying to peel away the layers of his words, his plans. He looked Jinshi in the eye and stroked his chin. “And what is your purpose in making this generous suggestion?” he asked.

Jinshi fought off a desire to swallow hard. He took a single breath to steady himself.

“The same as always.”

At last Maamei stepped forward. She placed a pile of paper on the table. “We’re returning to you matters that should always have been in your hands, Sir Lakan. Naturally, we’ve also given the other officials back their work as well.”

“I think I see.” Lakan looked at the pile with undisguised distaste. It was three times as much work as he’d been listlessly doing earlier. Maamei had brought as much as she could carry, but there was still more back at Jinshi’s office.

Jinshi’s hardworking streak caused him to try to take care of all the various paperwork he received, but Basen, his second-in-command, wasn’t gifted when it came to desk work, and the Go-loving bureaucrat Sei was merely on loan from somewhere else and didn’t feel he was in a position to express his opinion on such lofty matters. With the arrival of Baryou and Maamei, it was decided to give the work back to those from whom it had come.

“You don’t think I’ll simply shove it back your way, honored Imperial younger brother?”

“Oh, there’s not enough there to warrant the effort. You could go through it with a snack in one hand, yawning all the while, and you’d still be done by this afternoon.”

Lakan’s aide looked openly terrified—Jinshi’s words were nothing short of a provocation—but Jinshi saw nothing to gain by holding back at this moment. He was confident that Lakan would do as he asked, even if Jinshi did put his nose a bit out of joint in the asking.

“You need the Argent Theatre, and you need the surrounding street closed off for an entire day. Who else can do that for you but me?” Jinshi asked.

Lakan looked at his assistant. “If we change the venue to the theater, what happens?”

“One expects that the number of participants would increase dramatically, sir. We would see far more commoners and children. Enough that I doubt our plan to hold the proceedings in a single day would suffice.” It was a shame for him; he would surely be expected to help—outside of normal working hours. “We’ll have to consult Master Lahan to be certain, but I think we would need at least three days, including time to get the place ready. Also, since we don’t know how many more people might show up, we might find ourselves short on Go boards. We’d have to get more of them, or else reconsider whether to put a cap on the number of participants.” The aide’s fear seemed to be giving way to volubility.

“No caps. The whole point is for as many people as possible to play Go,” Lakan said. It took Jinshi by surprise. He’d always assumed the strategist thought only of himself.

Then again, when he’d spoken to Lahan before having this meeting, the other man had said, “My honored father is acting differently this time. That Go book is his tribute to my dear departed mother.” Even the notion of holding a tournament like this was out of character for Lakan—but he had a reason. He’d bought out the former courtesan who was Maomao’s mother, but she had died barely a year later. Lakan had created his book to commemorate a woman who had been a master Go player, preserving the records of their games—and this tournament was an extension of that impulse. This was not one of his ordinary flights of fancy.

While Jinshi was lost in thought, Lakan’s aide had been drawing up a simple schedule. “If we say admission is half price for those who sign up ahead of time, we’ll be able to gauge the level of interest. An admission fee of five copper pieces would enable even those with the lowest incomes to take part if they so wish. We’re also considering prize money for the top performers.” (Jinshi knew that one copper piece could buy a steamed bun; Maomao had told him once.) Now in his element, the aide showed none of his previous hesitancy. This man didn’t have the obvious quirks that had characterized Lakan’s last assistant, Rikuson, but it seemed he wasn’t entirely undistinguished either.

Lakan folded his arms and regarded the mountain of paperwork. He still looked unhappy about it. Maybe one more push.

“There’s something else,” Maamei said, and produced, of all things, a list of names. It appeared to enumerate the medical staff. “An event this large brings with it the possibility of unexpected trouble. In addition to security, I think we should have some people versed in medicine present.”

Strictly speaking, the idea was well beyond a court lady’s place to suggest, but Jinshi wanted to give her a thumbs-up and an emphatic “Nice work!” If Jinshi had tried to bring the subject up, it might only have made things worse, but now Lakan’s eyes were sparkling. The list included the names of two of the people he loved most in the world: his daughter and his uncle.

“I-If you insist, then...I suppose I have no choice,” Lakan said.

It was all Jinshi could do not to grin openly. He’d finally forced a concession out of an opponent who always seemed to be the one giving him the short end of the stick. It was just one small step, really a trivial one, but for Jinshi it was a giant leap.

He was basking in this feeling of triumph when Maamei nudged him, giving him a look that said don’t let your guard down yet.

“If you would be so kind as to write up the details and send them to me, then,” Jinshi said.

“Hrm,” Lakan grunted, apparently taking the compromise in bad grace. He waved his empty gourd at his aide, demanding more; to Jinshi’s surprise, the man hurriedly produced another gourd and gave it to the strategist. Lakan took a mouthful—and spat it right back out.

“Master Lakan?” the aide said.

“What in blazes is this?!”

“Erm, it’s—uh—it should be juice, sir,” the aide said, checking the gourd’s contents with an expression of concern.

“Well, something’s wrong with it. You didn’t get it from the usual place, did you?” Lakan was good and upset now.

“I-I’m sorry, sir! It appears to be fruit liquor...” The aide rushed to get some water.

“I’ll show myself out,” Jinshi said, eager to leave before he couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. As he left, he found that Lakan’s next visitor was already waiting.

“Ah! Oh, ahem—ah. Moon Prince...” A young civil servant clutching an armload of wood writing strips bowed his head at Jinshi’s appearance. Certain departments preferred the wooden strips to paper—and those who were especially obsessed with propriety and decorum seemed to love them most of all. Jinshi wondered which office this young man had come from.

“Let me see those.” Lakan got up from his couch and snatched the strips from the official. He turned and made for a large desk in the corner of his office on which there was a map with pawns arranged on it. He studied the writing strips, shifting the figures around as he read. “Let’s do this, then.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” said the young official, making a note of every movement. Jinshi spared him one last glance as he left the room. The entire court knew Lakan as the eccentric strategist, and while the emphasis tended to be on eccentric, one could not forget that he was also a strategist, and that as he moved those pawns across the map, soldiers marched in their hundreds, their thousands, even their tens of thousands.

Lakan was not like Jinshi, who had been given a civil post as befitted the Emperor’s younger brother, but an empty one. Jinshi could only sigh at his own ordinariness—and wonder how an ordinary person like him was going to outwit a genius like that.