The Apothecary Diaries Book 9

The Message

At his villa, Jinshi received a letter. It was written not on wood strips nor on paper, but on parchment, rolled up and tied, and sealed with wax. Different lands had their different ways of sending letters; this was characteristic of the west.

Gaoshun bore out Jinshi's suspicion: "It's from the western capital," he said.

"Yes, from Sir Gyoku-ou. I know perfectly well they have paper over there these days..."

Even in the west, where trees to make paper were scarce, it was still cheaper than parchment. Jinshi took another look at the seal, confirming it was the one he expected. It had become quite familiar to him recently—it looked very much like the one now burned into his flank.

He tugged at the tie, trying to break the seal, but it resisted him. The material looked delicate enough. It could be cut, surely. "You have scissors, Gaoshun?" Jinshi asked.

"Here, sir."

Jinshi broke the seal—and sighed. If Basen were here, he would have immediately begun questioning Jinshi about what could inspire such a reaction, but Gaoshun knew better. He waited for Jinshi to speak.

"You want to read it?" Jinshi asked. Gaoshun glanced at the parchment but shook his head.

"What does it say, sir?"

"His daughter will enter the rear palace just about the time we're leaving court—as planned. Awfully imperious letter for a man who's simply confirming a schedule." Did Gyoku-ou think Jinshi was still in charge of running the rear palace?

"Practically speaking, her admission to the rear palace will have to be postponed until you get back," Gaoshun observed. Jinshi felt bad for the princess who would have come all this way, but she would have to stay in a separate villa somewhere and wait. Given Empress Gyokuyou's objections, she couldn't enter the rear palace.

There was an obvious compromise: make her the consort of the Imperial younger brother. The catch being that Jinshi, of course, had no intention of marrying her.

Jinshi, for his part, knew exactly how close the matter had come, and it made the hair on his neck stand on end. If he hadn't branded that crest on his flank, even the Emperor would probably have ordered him to suck it up and marry the girl.

Jinshi didn't say anything, but he tapped his temple. He went back over the matter in his mind—something still felt wrong. Empress Gyokuyou knew about Jinshi's brand. The secret was a weapon in the Empress's hand, but it was a double-edged sword. It must not become public knowledge that Jinshi bore the Empress's own crest on his body. The Emperor and Empress had seen him do it and knew what it meant, but anyone else would assume it was proof of adultery. Adultery involving some very strange predilections, no less.

As potential marriage partners went, even the Empress's own niece was too dangerous.

From Gyokuyou's perspective, it would have seemed less detrimental simply to take the high road and accept the girl's entry into the rear palace. So what if the Emperor visited her a few times? The Empress would never be so petty as to be jealous over such a thing, not now. Was there, then, something about the girl herself to which the Empress objected?

"Gaoshun... Is Empress Gyokuyou close to Sir Gyoku-ou and his daughter?"

"I should think Lady Suiren would be better placed to answer that question than I am, sir."

Jinshi looked at the old lady-in-waiting. She said, "I doubt it. Master Gyoku-ou didn't have this daughter when Empress Gyokuyou was still in the western capital. I suspect they've never even seen each other."