The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 11 - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: In the Shadow of the Ritual

The eightieth day.

The ritual Jinshi would perform, Maomao gathered, was to be a middle rite. She didn’t know much about the niceties of state ceremonies, but she was given to understand that the rituals performed by the Emperor could be divided into great rites, middle rites, and lesser rites, and that the exact nature of the ceremony varied with the scale.

The officiant has to purify himself for three days before a middle rite.

She remembered Jinshi doing this once when she’d been assigned to him as a lady-in-waiting. It had involved him eating ascetic meals and performing some sort of ritualistic gestures before he got in the bath. She also remembered Jinshi, who’d still had some growing to do, looking rather disappointed by the quantity of the meals.

“So the festival’s to be tomorrow,” said the quack doctor with his typical lack of concern as he rolled up a strip of torn sheet.

“I suppose you could call it a festival, but you know there won’t be any food stalls or anything, right?” Maomao made sure the pills that had come out of their wooden mold were all perfectly round, then placed them neatly on a wicker tray. It was stomach medication, made with substitute ingredients because there was nothing like enough actual medicine around. If they ran into the freak strategist’s aide, she intended to give him some.

The ceremony would be performed in a large open plaza in the middle of the western capital. There was a shrine there; it was a very prominent spot.

“Master Lihaku,” Maomao said.

“Hm? Yeah?” The big-mutt-like soldier was cutting a sheet into neat strips with a knife.

“Are we sure that having a festival at this moment won’t backfire and cause violence instead?”

“That’s a real tough question. Our one saving grace is that everything I’ve seen of that plaza makes it look easy to defend. It’s circular, so we can surround it, and it’s big, which will make it hard to fire an arrow into it.” So it wasn’t, from his perspective, a dangerous location. “The one real potential problem is if the people turn into a mob and just pile past us.”

“Yeah, there wouldn’t be much you could do about that.”

Even impeccably trained soldiers could only do so much to resist sheer numbers.

Maomao hoped there wouldn’t be any injuries, but who knew what the day would bring? It was even possible that an unruly mob would rip off Jinshi’s robes and discover the burn on his flank.

“What I can say is that there’s been less violence the last few days,” Lihaku said, handing the shredded sheet to the quack doctor. “The mob that night seems to have helped things calm down, at least a little bit.”

“You mean because Master Gyoku-ou spoke directly to the people?”

“Uh-huh. And it sounds like his younger brothers have been trying to talk people around as well.”

That must come from the brother Jinshi talked to.

Gyokuen’s family held control of every industry in the western capital. Anyone who went against them would find life in the city very, very difficult.

“Security’s still tight, though. There are still people around claiming that it’s the Imperial younger brother’s fault that that swarm broke out.” As a soldier, Lihaku was kept abreast of each day’s security preparations.

Then Maomao asked the question that was bothering her most. “How do you expect Master Gyoku-ou to act during the ceremony?”

How would he behave, this man who lusted for war? Maomao didn’t think he would just stand by quietly, checked by his younger brothers. She only hoped that he wouldn’t launch into his speech in the middle of the ritual.

“We expect him to give a formal greeting, of course. In the interests of security, he’ll wait at the administrative office until his moment. It sounds like his speech will be at the end, after everything else is over.”

Using the administrative office as a staging area was perfectly understandable; it wasn’t far from the plaza. And yet...

“Doesn’t that seem like it’s sort of putting Master Gyoku-ou squarely in the spotlight?” Maomao asked.

“I’d say it does,” Lihaku replied.

Providing security was going to be tough enough; splitting them into two groups seemed especially questionable. Gyoku-ou was the one the people trusted. Wouldn’t they be more likely to stay calm if he were at the plaza with them?

Not to mention, having the less socially important person show up late would normally be unconscionably rude. The sight of Gyoku-ou arriving from the administrative office with his attendants and bodyguards in tow would leave a profound impression on the onlookers.

“Let me guess. Was this Master Gyoku-ou’s idea?”

“Actually, no,” Lihaku said, closing his eyes and stroking his chin, which was gradually acquiring a stubble. There were no longer any razors fine enough to shave facial hair, so he had to go without. “What I’ve heard is that Master Gyoku-ou’s younger brothers and sisters wanted to get together to discuss matters before the ceremony. But there wasn’t much time, and tomorrow was the only time they could do it.”

“Well, well.” Maomao was impressed; Dahai had been harder at work than she’d expected.

“The siblings seem to be split into factions supporting the eldest and the youngest.”

“The youngest?” Maomao was perplexed for a moment, but then she had a vision of the red-haired Empress. “You mean Empress Gyokuyou?”

This was the first she’d heard about Gyokuyou being the youngest of Gyokuen’s children, but she and Gyoku-ou were so far separated in age that it wasn’t that surprising.

“That’s right. The eldest son might inherit leadership of the clan, but the word of the Empress carries a lot of weight—even though she’s his youngest sister. All the sisters are for Empress Gyokuyou, and even a few of the brothers.”

“You’re very well-informed, Master Lihaku.” Maomao nudged the big soldier with her elbow.

“I talk with the other guards who come by here, and they’ve all been around. I hear a lot of things. The others used to say they were jealous of me because guarding the annex was supposed to be a cushy job, but since that mob the other night, I haven’t heard a word from anyone.”

“Is it just me, or does Master Gyoku-ou seem given to extreme policies? Doesn’t that bother the people of the western capital?”

“That has to do with what ‘layer’ of the support base you’re looking at. The group you’re thinking of, young lady, has a bunch of Master Gyoku-ou’s supporters in it. If you change your perspective, a lot of other things change with it.”

“I feel like it didn’t used to be that way,” Maomao objected as she helped untangle the quack from the strips of sheet he’d gotten himself caught in.

“Time passes, things change. The more upset the people get, the more they pressure their politicians. And then later, they complain that they don’t like how it turned out.”

“Is that how it works?” Maomao rolled up the cloth. She just hoped the ritual would go smoothly.

The next day was bright and blue, not a cloud in the sky. That wasn’t specifically a sign of good fortune in the western capital, where it hardly rained anyway, but it still made a nice backdrop for a ceremony. The impending festivities did something to dispel the gloom that had clung to the city the past several months.

“What do you think, young lady? Shall we go up?” the quack doctor asked, heading up the stairs with his steamed potato in hand. He and Maomao had to stay and watch the medical office, but the plaza was visible from the third floor of the annex, and they decided to watch from there.

Maomao had suggested that she should go to the ritual site in case anything happened, but Jinshi had rejected that idea. He seemed to think his life would be far harder if Maomao got hurt than if he himself did.

I don’t really expect Jinshi to be injured, anyway—and the freak strategist is at the ceremony. If Maomao were there too, he seemed likely to interrupt proceedings.

Instead she got to watch from the third floor of their building, which had an excellent view and a nice breeze. In the room with her and the quack were Chue, Lihaku, the duck, and, for some reason, Lahan’s Brother.

“What? You think it’s wrong of me to be here?” Lahan’s Brother asked, glowering at her. The duck raised her bill in imitation of his expression. Lahan’s Brother must have been looking after the duck for Basen, who was serving as Jinshi’s bodyguard.

“Did I say anything out loud?”

“I saw it on your face. It hurts to know I was right.”

“I’m sorry.” Maomao tried to make Lahan’s Brother feel better by offering him a steamed potato, but he jumped back, saying he’d had more than enough of them. The duck comforted him.

“I can see them, but it’s so far away. They’re all so small,” the quack said, squinting. The stage was visible from where they were, but they couldn’t make out the participants’ faces. They could still tell which one was Jinshi, though—even at this distance, he was obnoxiously unmissable.

“That’s a good thing. From this far away, even the best archer couldn’t hit them,” remarked Chue, a rather unsettling thing to say. Maomao scanned the buildings near the plaza; the only ones as tall as the annex were the administrative office and the main house.

The quack squinted some more. “I feel like an arrow could reach from farther away than where we are.” From their room to the center of the plaza was perhaps two hundred meters in a straight line.

“With a longbow or a crossbow, maybe, but how would you hit anything like that? And even if by some miracle you did, the arrow would never have the force to actually kill whoever it hit. We call that ‘effective range,’ and it’s usually less than a hundred meters,” Lihaku said, providing helpful military background.

“Oh. Well, that does make me feel better.” The quack stuffed some potato into his mouth in relief.

“Are you absolutely sure it’s safe?” The objection came from Lahan’s Brother. He sat cross-legged on the ground, petting the duck, who perched in his lap. “How far an arrow flies or whether it hits its target is all down to the skill and strength of the archer isn’t it? Or suppose they’ve developed a more advanced bow—it might be a lot more dangerous than you think, couldn’t it?”

Lahan’s Brother could do most things well. He might not be the most exceptional man in any one field, but he was tremendously versatile.

“You’re absolutely right, Lahan’s Brother. But I just don’t think a bow and arrow are going to be much of a threat here. The bow has a long history—it’s not going to change much now. A feifa firearm—now, there’s a weapon with a lot of growing to do. That could be really dangerous one day.”

“A feifa? I’m surprised to hear you mention that,” Maomao said. Lihaku was a soldier, someone who trusted in his own strength. She was surprised to realize he might put stock in firearms.

“Uh-huh. A feifa’s less powerful than a bow right now, but look how portable it is, just a little tube. That’s the scary part. Tools get more and more powerful as they’re improved. And tools that don’t rely on the user’s strength—those only get better and better the more improvements are made.”

“Er, well, then, wouldn’t it be dangerous if someone had one of these fay...fay-fah?” the quack asked, clearly unsure what a feifa actually was.

“It sure would!” Lihaku declared. So much for reassuring the old doctor.

“Lihaku! If someone targets the officiants with one of these firearms, what’s the point of all your guards?” Lahan’s Brother asked, despairing. He set the duck to one side.

“Fair question. But feifa still have too many shortcomings to be used in an assassination. I just don’t expect to see anyone try anything with one at this ceremony. There. Feel better?”

He sounded so sure of himself that even Maomao was willing to believe him.

“The threat of violence worries me more,” Lihaku said. “But things seem quiet for now.”

“And they’ll probably stay that way, as long as we’re giving out food,” Lahan’s Brother said, skeptical. “Look. See that over there?”

“See what over where?” Chue asked, squinting. Maomao looked too, and saw crowds of people surrounding what appeared to be shop stalls.

“They’re handing out some extra food that arrived. Well, potatoes, to be specific.”

“Potatoes,” Maomao echoed. Just how crazy was Lahan’s Father for potatoes? Lahan’s Grandpa and Lahan’s Mother had seemed resentful of their rustic dwelling, but Maomao suspected that just by selling potatoes, their income probably far surpassed that of the freak strategist’s debt-riddled estate. They’d built a veritable Potato Palace.

“They went to the people who normally do the food stalls at this sort of thing and got them to pass the potatoes out. They get experienced food handlers, and it helps with employment.”

“Hoh,” Maomao said, taking a sip of tea. It was thin, made with well-used leaves. The potatoes would make things easy, because they didn’t even need to be peeled: with a modicum of fuel, they could be roasted. It was very Jinshi-esque to think not just of handing out food, but of how to use that to obtain a variety of economic benefits.

“They’ve added an extra detail too,” Lahan’s Brother informed them. “They brand each potato to identify it as coming from His Majesty’s younger brother.”

Maomao spat out her tea so hard that it got into her nose and threatened to fly up into her eyes.

“Huh? What’s your problem?” Lahan’s Brother asked, patting her on the back.

“N-Nothing. Nothing. Just, isn’t it sort of impertinent to put the Moon Prince’s sigil on a potato?”

“It’s a simplified version, just a crescent moon. It wouldn’t have been possible to do anything too detailed.”

Maomao wondered, concerned, if Jinshi was doing this as a form of self-flagellation.

“Branded potatoes! Now that sounds interesting. Miss Chue will just go get some,” Chue said, shhp-ing to her feet.

“We have potatoes right here,” Maomao said.

“She will also see if there are any tempting snacks around. In other words, Miss Chue is tired of watching.”

“Now, that’s no fair, Miss Chue. You expect me to just stay here and watch the place?” Lihaku said.

“Sure do! Have fun!”

And with that, Chue left.

Maomao dabbed at her face with a handkerchief and looked out at the plaza. A man in highly conspicuous clothing—presumably Jinshi—was walking through it. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she caught the faint sounds of musical instruments, carried to them on the breeze.

She munched a potato and hoped nothing would happen.