Clockwork Samurai (7 page)

Afterward, we finished our tea and left coins upon the table.

“You're quite suited for this type of spy work,” I told Chang-wei as we left.

“There isn't much to it. All one has to do is appear remarkably ordinary.”

A smile played across his lips. He held his hand to the small of my back to guide me down the lane, and I could feel the warmth of his touch through my robe. There was nothing ordinary about Chen Chang-wei.

Dinner was at a bustling noodle stand that overlooked the docks. Every bench and table was full, and we sat elbow to elbow with traders and laborers. The mechanical arms of the noodle-pulling machines whirred at a blinding pace to keep up with the constant flow of customers. Snatches of conversation filtered through the hum, and I could pick out several dialects, the most prevalent being the Shanghai dialect.

From the diners and what I could see of the street, there were very few women. At least in this part of the quarter. What few I spied appeared to be like our song girl at the teahouse, Japanese women who came from Nagasaki proper to entertain in the quarter.
Yujo
, the proprietor had called them. Several of them entered a tavern at the end corner.

Our noodles came, and I turned my attention back to our surroundings. With the crowds around us, and the smell of scallions and bone broth in the air, I certainly felt I was back in our homeland.

Chang-wei was talking to one of the workmen packed into the table beside us. “Have you ever been to Dejima Island?”

“The Japanese are strict about keeping us separated. The Dutch settlement is completely closed off to us, just as they're forbidden to enter our settlement. The Western goods we do see come from Japanese merchants. Curiosities, mostly. Little trinkets and devices.”

Chang-wei appeared intrigued. “Where can I find some of these curiosities?”

The man mentioned a shop nearby before digging back into his noodles.

The majority of the customers were head down over their bowls. This was a place to eat quickly, throw down a few coins and make room for the next hungry sailor. There was little talk, but I could hear snatches of conversation around me. Someone mentioned the rebel army and how it had moved farther north, spreading out to attack cities close to Nanking and Shanghai. A feeling of dread settled in my stomach. I wanted to believe that these were merely rumors, but for news to travel across the sea to the island empire, there had to be the weight of truth of behind it.

I lifted egg noodles with chopsticks and scooped up some of the rich, salty broth. The street fare was satisfying in a way that warmed my heart as well as my stomach. Not that I would complain about the food from the imperial kitchens. My family had been through very lean times back in our village, and the southern provinces were still ravaged by famine. It was one of the reasons the rebel scourge was able to gain so many followers. I knew better than to complain about being fed at all.

Once our bowls were empty, we stood to go, and our spots were immediately snatched up.

“We should find this shop. There may be items of educational value,” Chang-wei suggested. He asked for directions from a passerby, and we were on our way.

I tried to peer past the beaded curtain at the door of the tavern as we walked by, but it was impossible to see anything in the hazy glow of the lanterns. Laughter came from within, male and female combined, leaving the rest up to my imagination.

The shop we were searching for was down an alleyway. A painted signboard above the doorway indicated the name,
and the shopkeeper was just closing his doors as we approached. Evening was creeping in, and most of the establishments were done with business for the day. Chang-wei was insistent. As he negotiated with the shopkeeper, I held back and peered through an opening in the alley.

It wasn't a proper shop or stall. Rather, the shelter looked like a place for squatters and hang-abouts. I could see a man reclined on a mat. Even in the dim light I could make out the long, slender outline of an opium pipe.

“Strictly regulated, indeed,” I muttered as Chang-wei returned to my side.

Chang-wei steered me away from the den. “As I said, the quarter is not as tightly controlled as the authorities would believe.”

Opium found a way to creep into every corner, rich or poor. Maybe it was a Chinese disease. Our own innate failing.

Once we were out of the alley, I noticed the bundle tucked beneath his arm. “What is that?”

“A souvenir.” He looked immensely pleased with himself. “Something you'll like.”

He'd gotten me a gift? I was feeling a little pleased myself.

* * *

We returned to our room at the inn and sparked the hanging lantern. Chang-wei then placed the paper-wrapped bundle at the center of the mat and stood back to let me open it.

“I paid entirely too much,” he admitted. “But the old man was intent on closing the door in my face until I showed him a heavy purse.”

Kneeling, I peeled away the brown paper to reveal a thick tome. The writing on it was unintelligible—which made my pulse skip with anticipation.

I turned the book around to open the cover, but Chang-wei stopped me. “They open it from this end.”

“From the back?”

“And it reads from left to right.”

“Interesting . . .”

The pages were thick and yellowed, and the characters on them were printed close together. The script appeared quite spare and simple. It might have been a book on shipping schedules, but it felt so mysterious in my hands. Full of hidden knowledge. My father had owned an extensive library of books he'd collected, but any foreign tomes had been translated into Chinese. The imperial court didn't allow Western books in Peking.

“Do you know how to read this?” I asked, turning another page with only my fingertips and taking care not to bend the corners.

“I've learned how to read the language of the
Yingguoren
, but this is from Dejima. It's written in a language called Dutch.”

Chang-wei went to the window to call out to a passing street vendor while I continued to pore over the foreign volume.
The next turn of the page had revealed an illustration.

“Have you figured out what the book is about?” Chang-wei had procured a pot of tea from the street seller. I heard the clink of the lid as he checked on the contents.

“It might be a book on astronomy.”

“How can you tell?”

“These look like star charts.”

I was so completely absorbed that I barely paid attention to Chang-wei setting tea beside me on the mat. He poured a cup and placed it into my hands. “Be careful of the book.”

I wouldn't dream of spilling a single drop on it. Not in a thousand years.

The tea proved to be bitter. Either over roasted or over steeped. I only took a small sip before setting it down to continue inspecting the book. There were a few notations in the margins in what must have been Japanese.

“I don't suppose I'll get a look until you're completely done?” Chang-wei asked.

I glanced up. He sat back with tea in hand, regarding me with a bemused expression.

“You can come sit right here if you want a closer look,” I offered, a bit defensive. It wasn't as if I were selfishly hoarding the book or the ink disappeared as soon as I read the words.

“Actually, you enjoy it. I have some matters to discuss with Captain Zhao. Don't forget to drink your tea before it goes cold. The tea seller will collect the cups from outside the window.”

I nodded, head back in the foreign book while Chang-wei left to go call on Zhao's quarters across the courtyard. Before I knew it, I had paged through a third of the book—which went quickly given I couldn't read the words. The illustrations, however, held a world inside each drawing. I studied every line with utter fascination.

By the time I took another sip, my cup had gone cold. I poured myself fresh tea from the pot to warm it, but I found the brew had become so bitter it was undrinkable. Curious, I lifted the lid.

A small satchel had been placed inside over the tea leaves.

I fished out the translucent packet with two fingers. Hot tea drained from it as I tore the cloth open. I recognized the contents immediately. Anyone who had mixed over a hundred sleeping potions in the imperial apothecary would know these ingredients on sight.

Scowling, I plunked the satchel back into the pot and shot to my feet. I managed to wrench the door open without tearing the delicate layer of paper. Zhao's room across the walkway was dark. Regardless, I went to knock on the door and received no answer.

Chen Chang-wei
. The scoundrel. He hadn't voiced any objections when I had been added to the mission. No mention of
It's too dangerous
or
I don't want to get you involved, Soling
.

I was happy to see how much he trusted me. How he trusted my ability to take care of myself. Instead he'd resorted to drugging me while he headed off on some caper.

I was ready to snap bones. I was ready to spit fire.

That scoundrel hadn't been gone for long. I stormed out of the inn, pausing only to inquire with a few stragglers out in the street. Yes, they had seen the gentleman. He was heading down that street over there.

Gentleman. I could laugh.

The sky was growing dark, and lanterns illuminated the street corners. As I followed the twists and turns of the street, a nagging thought came to me that I was a young woman in a strange place where there weren't many young women.

I had my bladed fan tucked into my sash and my needle gun hidden beneath my mandarin jacket, but the weapons didn't make me feel any safer. I was just so mad at Chang-wei that I didn't care.

There was no sign of him in the streets. On a whim, I headed back toward the
karakuri
tearoom. The warehouses were deserted in the evening and cast dark shadows with too many invisible corners.

I slowed my step, preparing myself for danger as best I could. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of movement around the corner. There was no turning back now.

The figure was the same height and build as Chang-wei. He passed beneath a hanging lantern before slipping once again into the dark. I took a step forward only to be grabbed from behind. Strong arms wrapped around me.

Crying out, I clutched blindly at my attacker, jabbing at any part of him I could reach. His grip was a vise around me as he dragged me up against him.

“She's following you,” he grunted as I struggled in his grasp.

He spoke with an accent, the tones slightly flattened. It took me a moment to realize his words weren't directed at me. Chang-wei returned into the halo of lantern light.

“She's with me,” he said, alarmed. “Let her go.”

As if on command, the stranger's arm slipped away. The man slumped to the ground and lay unmoving. Chang-wei stared at me, then at the body at my feet.

I removed the hollow needle hidden against my palm and glared at him across the alleyway.

* * *

“Who . . . is this?” I huffed.

The stranger's arm hung over my shoulder while he sagged like a sack of rice. Chang-wei held on to the other side as we dragged him through the narrow lane.

“I don't know.” Chang-wei breathed heavily. “I think I was supposed to meet him.”

“He's Japanese.”

“I believe so.”

I was still angry with him. More so now that we had an unconscious stranger propped between us. The man wasn't nearly as big as I'd first imagined him, but he was still heavy.

I shifted the dead weight onto my shoulder. “He carries a sword.”

“I noticed.”

“
Two
.”

We had removed the sword belt, and Chang-wei had the weapons slung over his shoulder as we made our slow progress. Though the stranger was dressed as a commoner, his swords told a different story. Captain Zhao had made it clear to us that among the Japanese, commoners weren't allowed to carry such weapons. Certainly no one in the Chinese quarter was allowed to be armed.

“Why couldn't you just tell me what you were planning?” I demanded.

“You would insist on coming along.” Now he was the one frustrated. “I didn't have time to argue.”

“So you tried to
drug
me?”

“I only intended for you to sleep soundly through the night. Zhao would have seen to you once you awoke.”

I made an impatient sound. I knew what would come next:
Soling, it's too dangerous
. Headman Aguda didn't send me on this mission because I was meek or incapable of defending myself. I started to point that out but stopped when I recalled the real reason I was assigned. Aguda wanted me to act as his informant. Even though the two of us were friends, that was enough to keep Chang-wei from trusting me.

Fortunately, the
karakuri
teahouse wasn't far. I was correct in assuming Chang-wei was headed there. The doorway was open, and we followed the lanterns to it. Yelu was waiting for us as we entered.

The proprietor stood as unblinking as his mechanical dolls while we lowered our burden to the floor. “You killed your guide.”

His matter-of-fact tone told me a story in and of itself. Yelu was prepared for anything.

“He's not dead.” Chang-wei removed the sword belt from his shoulder and dropped the swords with a thud beside the body.

“What a headache.” The proprietor moved to close the door behind us before giving me the eye. “And you didn't come alone.”

“Plans change.” Chang-wei let out a tired breath and rubbed at his shoulder while he regarded me. “How long will he be unconscious?”

“The subjects were usually unconscious for only a few minutes.”

Chang-wei gave me an odd look.

I frowned right back at him. “We had to test the formula. We carry out our own inquiries, just like the Ministry of Science.”

The hollow needle had held a concentrated dose of hong zao seed and mimosa root, now in the stranger's bloodstream. He started to stir, shaking his head groggily. He muttered something in Japanese.

“An odd pair,” Yelu concluded as he brought a cup of tea and a soaked washcloth to the fallen swordsman. “Makoto is
to be your guide. If he's of any use anymore.”

“He might feel a little dizzy for the next hour.”

Makoto opened one eye to regard me haughtily. “Just a quick nap,” he growled before reaching for his swords. He kept a sharp eye on us as he pushed onto his feet. Once upright, he wavered only the slightest bit before righting himself. I had to admit, it was an impressive show of balance. Most of the test subjects had been unable to stand without weaving.