The Apothecary Diaries Book 8

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?"