Gunpowder Alchemy (11 page)

I had to agree with Zhou as I tilted my face toward the sky. Overhead, a large falcon soared through the air with wings outstretched. I was surprised to see it so far out at sea, but perhaps it had been blown out by the storm, just as we had been, and was now finding its way home. Its shadow momentarily passed over me, leaving me breathless with a sense of freedom and renewal. This was a good moment.

Yang was sound asleep down below. He had stayed up for nearly two days, coordinating between the ship navigator and Engineer Liu to steer the ship from the storm. I relinquished his cabin as soon as he allowed himself to retire.

I didn't mind lingering out here after being huddled away for so long. I even found myself looking forward to when we could return to the laboratory and continue our work. Yang's experiments had convinced me that he hadn't forsaken the empire. After the cannons and gunpowder had failed during the war with the foreigners, Yang had changed strategies. He was still fighting the war in his own way. Maybe it was best for the empire that Chen Chang-wei continued to build his war machines while Yang searched to cure the addiction that was robbing the empire of its lifeblood.

I didn't know what my place was in all this, but there was a restlessness growing within me. I could no longer stand back and do nothing. I could no longer remain asleep.

“Pardon me, miss.”

Engineer Liu's apprentice stood behind me, head bowed with hands folded in his sleeves. I hadn't seen him since the first night of the storm and hardly recognized him save for his clothing. His face was scrubbed clean of soot and his face mask was pulled down around his neck, revealing a youthful face.

“My master apologizes for imposing, but he wishes to speak with you.”

I was taken aback by the extreme formality. “Certainly.”

Ducking his head, the apprentice hurried back down into the hold as if escaping the sun.

“What is your name?” I asked as I followed behind him.

“Benzhuo, miss.”

“Your name is ‘Clumsy'?”

“That is what my master calls me, miss. But only part of the time. When he's happy with me, he calls me ‘Clever.'”

The gruff old engineer certainly seemed the eccentric type. I wondered if he had come up with a nickname for me after our brief encounter.

“How is everything down below?”

“As usual.”

“The repairs weren't too difficult?”

“No, miss.”

I made one last attempt at conversation. “How long have you apprenticed with Master Liu?”

“Three years.”

Not once did he glance back my way as he answered, and I thought of Yang's remark that engineers tended toward being recluses. One would have to be a recluse to be shut up inside that tiny chamber for so long without going mad.

Down in the engine room, Liu was still checking and adjusting valves even though the machine was silent. As soon as the young apprentice delivered me, Benzhuo took hold of a rag and set about cleaning out some piping without needing to be told. Clumsy or not, he was very industrious.

Liu squinted at me through the glow of the lanterns while his hands finished their last task. “It
is
you,” he said finally.

“I apologize, sir—”

“Ah, you don't remember me? Liu Yentai.” The engineer pulled his face mask down below his chin and blinked at me expectantly. I could do nothing but blink back, trying my best to find some sense of recognition.

“I gave you a windup frog for your first birthday,” he prompted.

My eyes lit up. I couldn't remember Liu, but I remembered the toy. It would hop about the room, changing directions in random fashion while I chased after it. At some point, our dog had pounced on it and damaged one of the legs. After that the frog would only hop in a sad half circle before the gears would grind to a halt.

Mother had put the clockwork creature away in a cabinet for safekeeping, promising Father would try to get it repaired. For all I know, it had been left in that very spot when we fled, forgotten like so many little things from our old life.

“You worked in the Ministry with my father.”

Engineer Liu beamed proudly. “You look like your mother,” he said with delight, waving a finger at me. “She was one of the quickest, cleverest minds I have ever encountered.”

I was shocked. “Mother?”

“An accomplished mathematician in her youth.” His hands had gone back to work on the machine as he spoke, as if the habit had become ingrained. “Without a doubt, she stood out among the candidacy that year.”

“But women are not allowed to sit for the imperial exams.”

Liu chuckled. “No, Miss Jin. They are not.”

I listened in fascination as he recounted the tale of a reclusive young man who showed up to the academies. He kept to himself and his studies, doing as little as possible to attract attention—but so much so that it had the opposite effect. Especially when his scores emerged at the top of his class during the provisional exams.

“That young man was your mother!”

The story was so farfetched, Liu must have invented it. I thought of Mother lying in her room with the shutters closed, her lungs filled with smoke. Who was this brash young woman the engineer was describing?

But then, I remembered how mother had taken control of our household after Father's execution. She'd swallowed her grief and found a new place for us to start anew before shutting herself away.

I was grateful to have a new image of her: young, reckless, brilliant. I secreted away this new knowledge like a gift.

The old engineer finished some adjustment and tapped his wrench lightly against an iron pipe, head tilted to catch the sound. “This is why men of science like Yang find this work to be so difficult. He keeps on telling me to write it down, each detail and step of maintaining this machine. But it is impossible to describe knowing the feel and sound of when the gaskets are tightened enough or the pistons need replacing. There is art to this. Benzhuo over there is only starting to learn all of this creature's tricks.”

Benzhuo lifted his head at the sound of his name but immediately bent down again to keep on working.

“Yang wants to believe there is a clear answer to everything. An equation for the human mind. Our frailties must be chemical impurities, our flaws due to a predictable reaction. Not so.” He sighed long and loud. “Sometimes men are weak. Sometimes fate is cruel.”

It appeared that both Liu Yentai and his apprentice were sorely in need of rest, but the old engineer insisted that night was day and day was night down in the engine room. The chamber beside it was their private quarters in which the two of them caught snatches of sleep when the engine wasn't in use.

I left them shortly after, hoping they would use the opportunity to rest up.

When I returned to the second deck, Yang had awoken. I wanted to point out that he'd only had a few hours of sleep, but he was in a grumbling mood, so I brought him tea and a bowl of stew from the galley.

Yang was dressed and at his desk when I entered the cabin, though his face was still haunted by dark shadows. He hadn't shaven, giving him a rough appearance. There was a map spread out on the desk, which he was frowning at.

“The storm took us off course,” he explained when I asked him what was wrong. “And also drained our store of gunpowder. We'll need to sail by wind power until we reach the next port.”

He took the tea from me, giving me a grateful look as he took his first sip. Though I knew it was not a good time, I brought up the prospect of returning me to the mainland.

“As soon as possible, if you could,” I added, which earned a small bark of a laugh from him.

“I can't have you fall into enemy hands.”

“Our countrymen are not your enemy.”

“They are,” he said with a dark look. “In more ways than you can imagine. We are our own enemy.”

I switched tactics, hoping for a better result. “You took Engineer Liu in during the purge.”

He nodded. “We fled Peking together. I had my family's wealth; Liu had access to the Ministry's airship. There were others with us, but we all scattered to go our separate ways. We all knew that one day the empire would come after us to reclaim what it had lost.”

Yang was trying to protect me, but there was a wild light in his eyes. I tried to explain it away as lack of sleep and the strain of fleeing the storm, but I began to doubt Yang's dedication to finding a cure for opium addiction. His determination had twisted into obsession, and I feared he would take the rest of us down that same path of madness.

By the next day, Yang and I were back in the laboratory. He came to ask that morning whether I would return to assist him and I agreed. Even though we fell into the usual routine, a rift remained between us.

We worked in silence for the first hour. I performed a series of tests on each sample, just as Yang had shown me, and only spoke when I needed to, which wasn't often.

“You know that you're not my prisoner,” Yang remarked wryly.

When I looked over, he remained with his head bent to his task.

“But you won't let me go.”

“Soling, after what I've seen—” He shook his head. “I have a sense that things are going to get worse quickly on the mainland.”

“But you can't run forever. Surely there is still something or someone in all of China that you care about?”

Yang shook his head regretfully. “You can come with us,” he offered after a pause. “We have need of a physician on board.”

“But what of my family?”

“Bring them here.”

He offered it so readily, as if it truly were that easy. I hadn't told him of Mother's addiction, and I doubted Yang would tolerate opium on board his ship. Even if he would, I didn't want my family stowed away, in exile from our homeland. We had already been living in exile all these years.

Our conversation was interrupted by the sharp ring of a bell.

“What is it?” I asked as Yang shot to his feet.

“Trouble,” was all he said before leaving the laboratory.

I took it upon myself to quickly stow away all the chemicals and pack up the various implements. Back in the storeroom, my hand hovered over the drawer where I had discovered the mysterious vials of dark red liquid several days earlier. What was it that had launched Yang on this quest?

As I emerged from the lab, it seemed the bell had summoned everyone to the upper deck. The level was empty, and as I climbed the stairs, I could hear the hum of conversation from all the men gathered above.

Yang had a spyglass pointed to the sky. His crew surrounded him, waiting. Overhead, I could see the outline of bird.

“We're being tracked,” Yang declared.

Headman Zhou came up beside him. “Is it pirates?”

A murmur rustled through the crowd. At the mention of pirates, every man on board had tensed. On a large ship equipped with cannons, I thought we wouldn't need to fear pirates, but I was apparently wrong.

Yang didn't answer. He called for Liu, and a moment later, the engineer appeared above deck, squinting in the sunlight. Yang handed the older man the spyglass.

“What do you think?” he asked, jaw clenched.

The small outline in the distant sky had grown larger in the time it took the engineer to make his way above. I recognized the bird was a falcon with its wings outstretched, just as I'd seen yesterday. After staring at it, I had the unsettling feeling that it was the exact same falcon.

How could I possibly know that? It was closer now and appeared larger, the details clearer to my eye. The outline of the bird appeared identical, as well as the markings on the head and tail.

“Pirates wouldn't have anything that intricate,” Liu declared, targeting the bird with his spyglass. At that moment, the falcon cut through the air at an odd angle.

“The storm blew us off course,” Yang muttered. “Gave them time to catch us.”

“Who?” I asked.

With a sideways glance, Yang handed me the spyglass. It took a moment for me to focus it onto the dark silhouette in the sky, but when I did, I saw it wasn't a falcon at all. Or at least not a live one. The skeleton was fashioned from rattan, the wings from panels of silk. I could just discern the line attached to the carriage that trailed downward before disappearing against the pale blue sky.

It was a kite. An elaborately constructed kite.

“I saw that same bird yesterday,” I told them, my chest tightening with dread. Yang swore beside me.

I didn't know what purpose the falcon served, but I knew someone was nearby, controlling it. Yang gave the order to ready for battle, setting his crew into motion.

“We're low on gunpowder,” Engineer Liu reported grimly.

Yang barely blinked. “Use it for the engine.”

I caught the wicked gleam in his eye before he went to join his men.

The old engineer turned to me with a slight bow. “You should come on down below with us, Miss Jin.”

Though he was trying to be delicate, I could hear the warning in his voice. I took one last look on deck to see the sailors working at the riggings to angle the sails. Yang with his eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Are we under attack?” I asked, hurrying down the stairs after the engineer.

Liu threw an answer over his shoulder. “Only if they can catch us. No need for cannons when we have a ship like this. Our engine is one of the finest there is. One of the fastest on the sea!” he said with a zeal that was far from humble. “Faster than those heavy iron beasts the foreign devils sail.”

“Is that who we're fleeing from?” I asked.

Liu either didn't hear my question or chose to ignore me. “Where is that lazy apprentice of mine?”

Benzhuo stumbled from his bunk as we neared the engine room. He was no longer covered in soot as he'd been when I first saw him, though his hands were still stained black. I imagined anyone who worked down here quickly became coated in a layer of gunpowder.

“More wood!” Liu barked. “We need to get the fire roaring again.”

The lanky apprentice rushed out to obey his master's instructions while Engineer Liu gestured for me to bring him the set of bellows leaning against the wall. Then I was given my first glimpse inside the inner workings of the engine.

“This is a wood furnace?” I asked with a frown.

“The fire needs to be hot enough to ignite the gunpowder. But in a controlled fashion. See those embers?” The tinder inside the furnace compartment had burned down, but there was a visible glow beneath the ash. “We keep that layer lit, so that we can awaken the beast quickly should we need it.”

Liu took the bellows from my hands and began to fan the embers, the thick muscles in his forearms flexing. All the while, he kept on talking.

“The devil ships use steam, did you know that? The real force behind them is the same as ours. They use fire to heat water. We use fire to ignite gunpowder. More power there! But takes a well-crafted machine to contain such forces. Engineer Chen knows that already.”

“Chen Chang-wei?”

“Yes. Young Mister Chen. Another one of your father's prodigies. Chen was in the engineering corps like me. He's aware of the engine required to handle such heat. What he doesn't have is this.”

Liu held up what looked like a drum plastered with red paper over the ends. I knew what it was before he said anything.

“This is the secret. Do you know the ancients used to mix all sorts of strange things in their powder? Realgar, saltpeter, honey . . . garlic, of all things! The alchemy of fire.” With each proclamation, his voice rose higher dramatically.

I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath. “What's in this mixture?”

“I don't know. I just know to throw in the correct amounts and keep my head down if the situation looks desperate. I prefer not to touch the stuff myself. And you shouldn't touch it, either,” Liu warned, waving a finger at me. “The making of weapons will not win this war. Your father learned that very tragic lesson, little one.”

Benzhuo had returned with a wheelbarrow laden with firewood. He tossed a few of the logs into the furnace to feed the fire.

“Now powder!” Liu commanded, taking hold of the bellows once more.

The apprentice darted out of the room to collect more drums of gunpowder while I stood flat on my feet, wishing there was something I could do to help. After seeing that Engineer Liu was absorbed with his task, I followed Benzhuo to the far section of the cargo hold.

“Why so far away?” I was out of breath.

“The gunpowder has to be kept away from any spark that could ignite it, miss.”

The old engineer and his apprentice seemed to wage an ongoing battle with fire; how to keep it alive, how to keep it from devouring everything.

Inside the cargo hold, the gunpowder drums were stacked in crates with straw in between. With their earthenware containers and the red paper seal on top, they resembled jugs of wine. It occurred to me that Yang might very well have intended the powder to be disguised as a shipment of spirits.

Benzhuo hefted up of the crates and headed off toward the engine room while I only managed to lift one drum. My arms strained against the weight, and as I struggled to find my balance, I heard an odd sound.

At first I dismissed it as one of the creaks and groans of the ship as it rolled upon the waves. But I had become accustomed to those noises and this was different. Someone was thumping against the walls.

The sound was coming from down here, somewhere nearby. Though the noises were muffled, I thought I could hear a voice. There were no words, just a low moan as if someone were in distress. I set down the drum of gunpowder and tried to follow the source of the sound.

Outside of the storage area, there was a long, narrow corridor. I followed it, and the pounding against the walls became more pronounced. There was a chamber right beside the cargo hold. The door was unlocked, and I opened it with a trembling hand.

A chill entered my blood. There were large cells with thick iron bars on each side. Cages, with enough space for a man to lie down inside, but little else. The cells were all empty except for two.

At first, I thought these prisoners must have been locked down here for disciplinary reasons, but one of them stared listlessly, not even recognizing my presence. He was gaunt, the hollows of his face sunken and almost skeletal in appearance. I kept on telling myself to back away, get out, but my feet wouldn't obey.

The man closest to me slowly turned his head as if it took great effort. His eyes were black and endless, and my skin crawled as I realized I knew that look too well. It was the same gaze my mother fixed onto me when she was looking, not at me, but through me.

Without warning, he lunged at the bars. Startled, I fell backward and could do nothing but stare as his gaunt form came smashing at the iron cage. A bone-thin hand snaked through the bars to grasp at me. At that moment, the second prisoner also came to life.

They were little more than animals in a rage. The men shook their heads furiously, rocking back and forth, clawing at the bars and then at themselves. The one who had started it all had his face forced against the iron, mouth gaping open. His tongue, gums, teeth, everything inside looked black as if doused with tar. His fingertips, beneath the nails, had also turned dark.

I scrambled away, my hands scratching against the wooden panels in the wall as I tried to pull myself up. My limbs had forgotten how to function in the face of the horror before me, and I fumbled with the door for an eternity before I was able to drag it open.

As soon as I was out, I slammed the door shut, pushing my entire weight against it. The banging and snarling continued on the other side.

I ran down the corridor, trying to escape from the stench, the cages, the mindless rage. I saw Benzhuo at the door to the gunpowder room, staring at me. “We're not supposed to go back there.”

His words barely registered in my ears. My thoughts were like a riot of crows seeking escape. All at once, I could see Yang in his laboratory. The vials of blood locked away in the storeroom. The extra portions of food that Cook always set aside.

Yang had imprisoned those men down below. He experimented with opium in his lab, but maybe it didn't stop there. Those two prisoners, the blankness of their eyes . . .

I didn't need to know what was happening to know there was something very wrong. I shoved past Benzhuo. Behind me, I could hear the captives shouting, their grunts more animal than human. Liu emerged from the engine room as I reached the stairs.

“Soling, wait!”

He kept on calling after me, trying to calm me down, but I took the steps as fast as I could. Even when I broke out onto the main deck, I couldn't stop running. Only the edge of the ship and the long drop to the ocean below stopped me.

Yang was mad. He was gifted and brilliant, but he had become insane in his fervor. I gulped in deep breaths of salt air as if I could cleanse myself.

There was shouting all around me as a great shadow coursed overhead, blocking out the sun. It was then that I finally glanced up and then over the water.

For a moment, I had forgotten that we were under attack. Another ship had appeared and had navigated close enough for me to see the red sails of the imperial navy. The prow had been carved into a dragon's head whose gaping mouth was aimed directly toward us.

The glider continued to circle overhead. Now I could see there wasn't a single cord attached to the rattan frame, but many lines that controlled the movements of the falcon as if it were a puppet rather than a mere kite on the wind.

The crew was focused on the approaching ship as well as the contraption circling us. No one paid me any attention, but when I searched out Yang he was looking right at me. There was a question in his eyes. His lips moved, and though I couldn't hear him above the shouts of the crewmen, I recognized the words.

Chen Chang-wei
.

I recalled the elaborate rattan skeleton in Chang-wei's study. The glider was his work. Yang had probably recognized that fact the moment the giant falcon appeared in the sky.

A few of the crewmen attempted to throw a spear through the glider, but the silk bird dipped and banked out of harm's way. A moment later, an orb dropped from the rattan frame and shattered onto the deck, not unlike the shell of an egg. A blue flame spread out from the remnants.

By the time crewmen gathered to douse the flame, another orb had been dropped on the opposite side of the deck. All the while, the dragon ship sped closer, black smoke spewing from its sides from vents hidden in the scales.