Gunpowder Alchemy

by Jeannie Lin

  “The reports from Thistle Mountain claim the rebellion boasts men and women in their ranks. Children as well.” I stared at the pair of boots that came to rest before me. “What is a woman doing alone in the capital? And her feet aren’t properly bound.”

  Manchurian women were forbidden to bind their feet in the custom of the Han. Yet these men would now use it to condemn me?

  “Please.” I spoke to the dirt floor, but I hoped the newcomer could hear the sincerity in my tone. “I am loyal to the empire. I have no weapons.”

  “Quiet!” the lieutenant barked. His boot stomped alarmingly close to my hand where it lay pressed to the floor, and I shrank back.

  “So she was asking many questions in the market?” the tall official interrupted.

  “And she was transporting that strange device.”

  “Indeed. Look up at me.”

  Despite the direct command, I hesitated. The tone that I had at first considered soothing now rang cold.

  When I tilted my head back, I saw the two men staring down at me. The man in black was the elder of the two, a senior in age as well as rank.

  For his advanced age, his face was unexpectedly smooth. This was a face that rarely smiled. A face that rarely showed any emotion at all. He wasn’t defending me; he had simply not yet decided.

  He held out his hand to reveal the puzzle box. “How did you get this?”

  “It was left to our family by my father.”

  “And how did he come to possess it.”

  “I don’t know.”

  He raised his eyebrows sharply, and it was enough to make my pulse jump in fear.

  “A . . . a gift. It’s just a box.” I prayed they would just take it and let me go.

  “Just a box,” he repeated slowly, turning the steel cube around in his hands.

  “Rebel spies are somehow infiltrating our cities. Getting past the defenses to take the guards by surprise.” Once again, the lieutenant’s questions were aimed at me. “What’s inside? Explosives? Poison?”

  “Nothing. Nothing like that. I . . . I don’t know what’s inside.” At least that was true.

  The man in black halted the questioning with a flick of his hand. I inched back as he neared only to have the lieutenant growl at me to remain still. I was more afraid of the quiet one.

  “Weapons can take many forms nowadays,” he said. “Family name of Jin, you said?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Jin Soling.”

  I didn’t like how my name sounded on his lips. Sharp, cynical. Still, I nodded obediently.

  “You are not from around here, Miss Jin.”

  I didn’t dare say anything but the truth. “I was born in Peking.”

  He spoke to me then in a language I hadn’t heard in many years. It took me a moment to recognize the words. He was speaking Manchurian, the language of my ancestors.

  The official was asking me why I was so far from home.

  “Forgive me, sir. I don’t know enough to answer in Manchurian, but our family was exiled.”

  My face burned hot with shame. All these years, but the humiliation of being thrown out of the capital had not faded. I felt all the more a criminal now for it.

  He returned to the more common dialect of the region. “I must tell you, young miss, it appears you’ve made an effort to attract attention. A woman traveling alone and wearing those”—he looked me up and down—“mannish clothes.”

  It was becoming apparent who, or what, the man in black was. The lieutenant had similarly deferred to him without referring to him by title, and Manchurian was only spoken in exclusive circles within the imperial court. The man had to be a senior official . . . or a member of the Forbidden Guard. The Emperor’s secret police.

  If I was afraid before, I was terrified now.

  “The city guards feared you had brought some mysterious weapon into the city.” His tone remained courteous, chillingly so as he held up the box. “This is certainly no ordinary trinket.”

  “It isn’t a weapon, I swear on all of heaven. I can show you.”

  He tested the weight of the steel in his palm. “No, I don’t think I will allow that.”

  “The box belonged to my father.” If I thought that begging would help, I would have done so. I could think of nothing to do but reveal the whole truth. “My father was once the Emperor’s chief engineer.”

  A light sparked in his eyes. “A bold lie.”

  I shook my head furiously. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  Without another word, he swept out of the cell and my stomach sank. I’d made an awful mistake. Father had been denounced as a traitor. He was also known for his experiments with gunpowder.

  When no one came back after several minutes, I struggled to my feet. The rope cut into my wrists. Trying to reposition my hands only made the pain worse. An hour must have dragged by, or at least I thought so. There was no way to tell time in here.

  If they truly thought I was a rebel spy, would they interrogate me and force me to confess? Or would they have me executed and be done with it? I blinked back tears. All I wanted to do was go home.

  When the door opened again, I breathed deep to try to compose myself. It was the man in black. The Manchurian.

  “Miss Jin.” He approached and I started as a knife flashed in his hand, but he moved behind me to cut my bonds. “I do apologize. With the rebel faction growing in strength, the authorities must take every precaution.”

  He stepped back and even affected a slight bow in apology. I didn’t know how to react to the sudden change in how I was being treated.

  “I can go then?” I asked meekly.

  My wrists burned as I stared at him. He didn’t appear so tall up close, yet his presence seemed even more menacing as he regarded me with a blank expression.

  “Yes, you can go,” he said, his tone crisp. “You will be coming with me.”

  Chapter Four

  I gripped the side of the sampan as the gunpowder engine propelled us through the water. Swarms of gnats hovered over the river’s surface, and the lantern from the boat cut a swath of light through the haze. The Manchurian official sat beside me.

  The vessel was large enough to accommodate the two of us along with a boatman at the helm. A guardsman stood at the rear of the barge with a rifle in his hands.

  “Inspector, may I ask where are we going?”

  The others referred to him as Inspector Aguda. I was right about his origins. The inspector traveled with an armed escort, and this was no fisherman’s vessel. It sliced like a knife through the water.

  Aguda glanced to my hands, which were clenched tight in my lap. “Rest easy, Miss Jin. You are no longer a prisoner.”

  Wasn’t I?

  My heart pounded so hard my chest hurt. The inspector wanted something from me, but I was too frightened to ask what it could be. The engine hummed along, and a cloud of sulfur smoke grew thick around us.

  “How familiar are you with your father’s work?” Aguda asked after a stretch of silence.

  The hairs on my neck rose in warning. “I don’t know anything of it.”

  “A shame. Of course, one could hardly expect a simple woman to understand something so complex,” he said with a snort.

  He was baiting me. I stared ahead, refusing to be caught. Yes, I was simpleminded. Useless and of no value to anyone. If Aguda would only be convinced of that and let me go. Instead the boat continued down the river, coughing on gunpowder and taking me farther away from home.

  I took to watching the sway of the lantern hanging overhead and thinking of my family. They would be expecting me tomorrow evening, but I wouldn’t be there to ask for my brother’s report on what he had learned in school. Mother would lie in bed, unblinking as Nan explained that I hadn’t come back. That I was gone.

  Inspector Aguda stared into the nig
ht, his posture rigid like a temple statue. Whatever he wanted, it had something to do with Father, but I couldn’t imagine what that would be. It had been eight years since his death. I just prayed he would let me go.

  Eventually, I nodded off. I didn’t know how much time had passed when I woke up, but my neck was sore and the sun was up. The sampan swayed gently in the river and the engine lay silent.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  Some port that I wasn’t allowed to know the name of. I remained beneath the protective awning while larger vessels surrounded the sampan. With no other explanation, Inspector Aguda ordered me onto a rope ladder where I half climbed and was half pulled onto the deck of one of the riverboats. The inspector followed immediately behind me.

  Archers with crossbows were positioned all along the deck, and the ship had been fitted with cannons for defense.

  “The rebels have taken to raiding ships along the river,” Aguda told me. “But they wouldn’t dare attack a ship of this class.”

  “If the rebels are such a threat, why not send the imperial army to be rid of them?” I asked once the inspector had directed me below deck.

  “A mob of angry peasants and laborers are hardly worth the Emperor’s notice,” he replied. “Our empire faces a larger threat. A foreign enemy that has already invaded our shores.”

  A sleeping berth had been arranged for me, and Aguda left me alone with my thoughts. Did he believe that my father had some secret weapon that could help the Emperor in his war? What would happen when the inspector found out the steel box held nothing of use?

  Food was brought to me at mealtime and tea in between. Otherwise I was left undisturbed for the remainder of the day. Gunpowder was too unpredictable for use in anything but the smallest of vessels, so the ship relied on wind power and the grace of the current as we sailed down the river.

  I made several requests to speak with Inspector Aguda, but to my frustration, I was ignored as one day went by and then another. Only after three days did he come to the curtain that separated my sleeping area from the rest of the crew.

  “Have you sent word to my family?” I asked him anxiously. Merchant Hu would have known something had happened when I didn’t show up at our meeting place, but he was unaware of where I was or who had taken me. By now, he would have returned to our village with the alarming news.

  “We have more urgent matters to attend to.”

  “But my mother will worry.”

  The inspector was unmoved. “Country first and family second,” he droned. “Especially in a time like this.”

  I had to bite my tongue. Aguda held complete power over me.

  “Perhaps when we reach our destination,” he relented, though his dismissive tone was hardly any comfort.

  “Where would that be?”

  Inspector Aguda’s answers, when he gave them, were always simple. “Canton.”

  “But that journey would take a week,” I said with a gasp. A week with my family not knowing what had become of me. “Why must we go to Canton?”

  A hollow feeling settled in my chest. My life was no longer my own. I was at the inspector’s mercy.

  “All will be made clear in time,” was all he said.

  I hated him. I hated the imperial authority that could demand everything from its subjects, every last drop of blood, and offer nothing in return.

  But even thinking such things was akin to treason, so I kept quiet.

  Several days later, I watched from the bow as the river funneled into a canal. A sprawling city loomed on the horizon, at least three times the size of Changsha. I was an ant lost on a mountain.

  As we docked, Inspector Aguda gestured to me. “Come with me, Miss Jin. They’re waiting for us.”

  Beyond his shoulder, I could see a row of warehouses along the water. From what little I knew, Canton was a crowded city at the mouth of the river full of brothels and gambling dens. It was also swarming with Yangguizi—or so the rumors said.

  Inspector Aguda educated me on one crucial element in the last day of our approach. Our empire had been forced to grant access to the foreigners after our defeat. From their section of the port, they were able to sell and trade whatever goods they pleased and there was little the empire could do to stop them.

  “Their commerce usually involves opium,” Aguda said darkly. “It also involves the abduction of men and women.”

  My countrymen. Our people. What was becoming of our land?

  I’d never seen a foreigner before, and they grew even more twisted in my mind. Pale, soulless demons. I searched for ghost-white skin at the dock, bracing myself for the sight. But only my own countrymen wandered among the boats.

  Inspector Aguda preceded me down the plank and onto the dock. I stepped in-line alongside him, and a small escort of armed men joined us. I wished I had my needle gun, though it was hardly any protection in this strange place. It didn’t matter. All of my belongings had been taken away: the puzzle box, my gun, every last coin I’d brought with me.

  Aguda took the lead, keeping me close by his side. A rifleman slung his weapon over one shoulder and followed closely behind. Escape never entered my thoughts. Disobedience to imperial authority meant death.

  A layer of smudge and grime lay over the area, from the flat stones that lined the streets, to the walls of the buildings. Even when we moved away from the water, the swampy smell of the docks stayed in the air. Businesses were laid out side by side and crammed together along the canals. Canton was a place where too much was happening in too small a space.

  As we navigated deeper into the streets, the clinging dampness of the docks receded, though the air remained heavy. Aguda led us to what appeared to be a municipal building that rose three stories high. The signboard over the front door declared it as a trade office.

  Inside, the hallways were swept and every surface was polished meticulously clean. I was taken to a room on the first floor where a female maidservant waited, a young girl of fifteen years at most. The building contained some sleeping quarters as well, it would seem. I looked to the inspector with a question in my eyes.

  “Presentable clothing has been arranged for your use. Prepare yourself quickly,” Aguda instructed before backing out of the room.

  The girl directed me to a wooden tub that had been set up in a washroom. There she helped me out of my jacket and robe and loosened my hair from its knot. It had been a long time since I’d been attended to for a bath. I sank obediently into the heated water and let the steam envelop me like a shield.

  Once the layers of dust and soot were removed, the maidservant returned to help me dress. I certainly wasn’t being treated as a prisoner. I was being treated like an honored guest.

  “Who is it that I’m preparing to meet?” I asked the girl.

  She only shook her head and proceeded to help me into a deep green qipao. The neckline and hem were outlined by a border of dark brocade. A phoenix had been embroidered onto the front with the wings spread in flight, etched with vermillion and gold.

  I ran my hands over the brilliant threads, and the touch of silk whispered memories to me. Once again, that distant dream.

  Next the maidservant drew a comb through my hair before plaiting and tying it into an elaborate swallowtail knot. A fan-shaped ornament was pinned over my crown to complete the headdress. When she held up a mirror for me, an eerie feeling fluttered in my stomach.

  I looked like Mother.

  Or at least how she used to look. In Peking, she had prepared herself every day. She had always appeared regal to me; an empress in our home.

  When we’d first come to Linhua village, Mother had tried to maintain her appearance even though we never had any visitors. She dressed us each day as if we were still in Peking, where we had to present ourselves accordingly as the family of a high-ranking minister. There were days when I believed our life would continue,
that we would one day return, even though Father was gone.

  I was so young then. So naive and full of empty wishes.

  After she gave birth to Tian, Mother fell into a deep fog, and Nan became busy with the baby. At first the opium had been for the pain as Mother recovered, but soon she rarely left her room.

  “It feels like everything happened so long ago,” Mother had murmured to me. The cloying smoke formed a curtain between us. “All of this has happened to someone else. Someone who looks like me.”

  It was worse when Mother spoke from within the opium dream than when she said nothing at all. She had wasted away for years now and I had let her.

  “My lady?” the attendant said, interrupting my memories.

  I nodded my approval absently, and the mismatched reflection in the mirror nodded back at me. The maidservant went to open the door, and I saw Inspector Aguda stationed at the end of the hall.

  “Miss Jin.”

  He bowed stiffly as I approached and then spoke in a hushed tone as he led me down the corridor.

  “Remember to keep your eyes lowered. The proper address is the full kowtow. When you are done, wait with head bowed to be spoken to.”

  The fearsome inspector was reciting etiquette like a lowly retainer. He pushed open a set of double doors to reveal an empty reception hall. A single person emerged from behind a painted screen at the opposite end.

  Curiosity made me forget the inspector’s warning. I peered at the man dressed in the embroidered blue robe before me, trying to discern why I had been brought before someone so young. There was a hint of yellow cloth peeking from the edge of his sleeve, but I didn’t know what to make of it. There was a sharpness about his cheekbones and his chin tapered to a point. The black eyes hardened as I met his gaze.

  With that, the last of the fog around me lifted. I knew his face. I knew who this was.

  “Imperial Highness.” With a gasp, I dropped to the floor and tapped my forehead against the wooden floorboards.

  The man that stood before me, who I had so rudely stared at, was Yizhu, the crown prince of the empire. I pressed my head to ground two more times.