Gunpowder Alchemy (3 page)

“I'm visiting our great aunt,” I murmured.

“I didn't know Miss Jin had relatives in the provincial capital.”

Immediately, I regretted the lie. The villagers of Linhua knew we were from Peking in the north. I suspected they also knew the unfortunate circumstances that had brought us to this province.

After a few minutes back on the road, I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. It was unfair of me, I know. Hu was making what would be considered a respectable proposition. Most of the men in town simply looked through me as if I didn't exist. They didn't exist for me, either.

I was beyond the ideal age for marriage, and what good reputation I had was worn thin. I tended to strangers alongside Physician Lo; men who were not of my immediately family. I stayed awake late into the night and exercised no sense of propriety. And I was Manchurian. Unsuitable in every way.

Lo sent female patrons to me when they needed to discuss their ailments, but I tended to men and women when the need arose. Hardly proper or ladylike, but it was the only way I knew to support my family. I had stopped thinking of how I appeared to others until Hu's proposal.

I had been engaged to be married once. My mother and father had arranged it when I was only ten years old. My husband-to-be was eight years older than me. One of Father's associates from the Ministry. He was hardworking, Mother had told me. He was clever and earnest. After Father's disgrace, the betrothal had quickly and quietly dissolved.

I would never marry now. Becoming a merchant's wife might provide security for me, but who would take care of Mother and Tian?

The young girl who had once hoped for things like marriage and family remained back in a dream realm. There wasn't any part of me that wasn't tired and worried all the time. The haze curled around me again, hiding away those fragile hopes that had once been a part of another life. Memories I couldn't hold on to, yet refused to forget.

The provincial capital of Changsha was protected by a fortress and enclosed in a towering wall of brick and stone. Cannons lined the upper rampart accompanied by armed sentries at the watchtowers.

Our wagon passed through the arched gateway in the indolent simmer of the afternoon. Hu was reluctant to leave me alone in such a large city, and I had to insist and insist again before he finally bid me farewell. We parted at the edge of the main market area after making arrangements to meet up again that evening.

I didn't want him hovering over me as I tried to pawn my family's last treasure. Part of me was still too proud.

Stalls and shops crowded both sides of the avenue, and for the first few moments, all I could do was stare, at a loss. I'd told the merchant I'd been to Changsha before, but it had been at least a year ago and never alone.

The river divided the city in half, and the market was located on the east bank. The market was roughly divided into sectors, and our maidservant Nan had been an expert at forging through them. I navigated through the streets much more tentatively, passing by cages of chickens and vats of fish on ice. Stacks of cabbages and onions lay wilting in the later hours of the market day. The adjoining area held bolts of cloth and embroidery thread.

Lo had written down an address for me, and I dug into the pocket of my mandarin jacket to retrieve it. He'd also given me some brief instructions that made no sense now that I was in the clutter of the city. One could waste a day wandering through these stalls.

I pushed beyond a display of rugs and shoes and caught sight of mechanical rigging at the end of one lane. A lattice of metal slats and bolts stood out against the surrounding wooden buildings. When I ventured closer, I saw a lot filled with equipment. Ploughs and threshers lay in lifeless heaps beneath the sun along with an odd collection of wheels and cranks.

The lot was empty of any customers, but there was a man riding atop one of the machines. It was made of interlocking iron segments that moved together in a fluid motion. An array of small wheels allowed it to roll along the ground.

Using a set of levers, the driver directed the machine toward the corner of the lot. The front of it coiled and swayed like a snake. Black smoke coughed out from the belly, spewing fine ash into the air. I could taste sulfur on my tongue.

With a final sputter, the wheels grew still and the operator climbed down from the seat. His queue was tightly braided and looped around his neck to keep it out of the way. He pulled a scarf from within his tunic and used it to wipe his hands, though they were still black with powder and grease when he approached me.

“Young miss,” he greeted.

I was transfixed by the machine. “I've never seen one like that.”

He grinned and his teeth gleamed white against the black residue that covered his face. “Is that a northern accent I hear?”

I tensed as he looked me up and down. He merely sounded curious, but ever since the Emperor had conceded the ports to the
Yangguizi
, Manchurians were even more hated. With my feet unbound, my particular manners and even my speech, I couldn't escape where I'd come from.

“My family is from the capital,” I replied before deflecting attention back to the iron beast. “What is this machine used for?”

“Excavation,” he explained, politely enough. “Down in the mines there are narrow tunnels that need to be cleared. This one has a problem with its engine.”

These machines were great hulking beasts with hard, sharp edges; nothing like the sleek creations I'd once played with in my father's workshop.

The inventions of the capital had been clever and surprising and unexpectedly beautiful. No such aesthetic existed here. The machinery of the south was all about labor and productivity, yet I was still fascinated. The excavator moved with the rumble of a gunpowder engine at its heart, much like the ones my father had worked on for the Emperor.

A twinge of nostalgia warmed me. “Do you repair engines here?”

“When needed.” He tucked the rag into his belt and took a closer look at me. “Strange to see a young woman so interested in mining equipment.”

I hadn't meant to become so distracted. “I'm looking for the—” I read from the slip of paper. “The Bao Zhen Curio shop.”

He gestured to the street just behind the lot and I thanked him.

This section featured a string of repair and secondhand shops and was much less crowded than the central part of the market. I searched the signboards until I found the shop Physician Lo had recommended.

The shelves were crowded with brass microscopes, windup clocks and compasses. A layer of dust indicated most of the items had been forgotten. My fingers itched to rearrange the shelves into some semblance of order.

In the center of the floor, a circle of eight bronze toads sat with their mouths open around a central urn. Over each toad hung a dragon holding a ball.

The design sent a wave of nostalgia through me. A larger scale model of the classic earthquake detector had decorated the center of the main courtyard of the Ministry of Science. When the ground shook, a mechanism inside the urn released one of the balls into the toad's mouth. The location of the ball would indicate the direction of the quake.

I saw that one of the metal spheres had indeed fallen from a dragon's mouth, perhaps from the last quake we'd felt just a few days ago.

“To the southwest of here,” a raspy voice intoned. “Luckily nothing but mountains there.”

The owner sat behind the counter, drawing smoke from an elongated pipe. He blew it out in a languid stream while I approached.

“Sir, I work with Physician Lo from the village of Linhua.”

He gave me a nod that could have meant he recognized Lo's name or that he was simply acknowledging that I was speaking.

“He told me you would give a fair price,” I continued undaunted. I had to be bold. I had to be unwavering.

I placed the puzzle box onto the counter and stepped back, trying not to let my anxiety show. After merely a glance, the shopkeeper pushed the steel cube back at me with a solemn shake of his head.

“But sir—”

“I have no need for such an item.” He took another pull and released the smoke from the corner of his mouth.

I hadn't even had a chance to open the box. “Perhaps the honorable shopkeeper would be interested to see what lies inside?”

“No.” The smoke swirled in a hazy curtain between us. “Not worth the trouble.”

“Trouble?”

He tapped the box with the end of his pipe. “This is a foreign invention, hmm? Trouble.”

“I don't understand.”

The shopkeeper sniffed at me, which served as his only reply.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, my throat tight. “If you would tell me where else I might go?”

“No one around here will take that. At least not anyplace a proper young lady such as yourself should ever go,” he drawled with a touch of amusement. It was the same dismissiveness I'd endured for years.

“Are you speaking of a ghost market?” I demanded.

I'd heard the nighttime markets were unregulated and often involved the pawning and selling of treasured items.

“Better to try the Academy.”

He leaned back and returned his pipe to his mouth. His gaze focused on the door as if I were no longer there.

Stubborn as I was, I prowled the rest of the lane, seeking more pawnshops. The other places yielded much the same result with usually less conversation. The brokers would take one look at the puzzle box before waving me away.

At one counter, I swore I saw interest in the woman's eyes. The moment she met my gaze, the look was gone.

“Selling something like this is too difficult,” she said. “Be very careful, miss.”

The art dealers in the city refused me as well. With each stop, my spirit sank deeper. I had held on to this prized possession as a last hope, but my dream was turning to dust in my hands. It was only my own sentiment that had given this box any value. I blinked back tears of frustration when I saw that I had returned to the first curio shop once again.

The sun was setting and the merchants had begun to pack their wares. I was supposed to meet Mister Hu at the sixth hour beside the central exchange before sundown, but I wasn't ready to give up yet. There was still the Academy, as the first shopkeeper had suggested. Perhaps the box wouldn't fetch as high of a price among scholars, but I couldn't return empty-handed.

I crossed a bridge over to the west bank of the river and followed the walkway through a wooded park. The late hour cast ominous shadows between the trees, and the buzz of cicadas filled my head. I hurried back onto the streets as fast as I could.

Pedestrian traffic was sparse on this side of the river. The sky was growing dark faster than I had anticipated, and before long, the last of the daylight had faded, leaving me in a maze of streets and alleyways.

It was only then, in the quietness of the evening, that I realized someone was behind me. When I quickened my step, he remained at close quarters, lurking like a shadow.

My pulse jumped and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. How long had he been following me? Long enough to know I was alone and unprotected. I turned sharply around the corner, positioning myself so I could see who was there. It wasn't long before a man emerged around the building.

Stories of abductions and enslavement flooded my mind. But this wasn't some sinister port town. Our village was just a day away. I had sat across from my brother this very morning.

I wound a path through the alleyways, my chest tight and heart pounding. With trembling fingers, I drew the needle gun from my jacket. My palms grew damp as I fumbled for the trigger and prayed. Please let him go by.

He didn't. The man was still behind me. Closer now.

I broke into a run. Buildings swept by on either side. I was in the middle of a crowded city and there had to be someone nearby. Footsteps pounded behind me, and I shouted for help until my throat was raw, but it was no use.

My hand froze around the needle gun. My lungs were burning. I couldn't go on much longer. I had to make my stand now while I could still fight.

I spun around as a dark, hulking figure closed in on me. Raising the weapon, I pressed the trigger out of reflex, firing one shot after another.

The needle must have struck home, because my pursuer stopped to claw at something near his face. I remained stunned before him, my arms still outstretched. I'd only fired at wooden dummies before.

Within moments, he stumbled to the ground. With a sharp exhale, I forced myself to run.

The market. My only chance was to get back to the other side of the river and out in the open, but I didn't make it farther than ten steps. A solid mass struck me and my vision blurred as I hit the ground. My hands scraped over dirt and the gun clattered out of my hands.

Rough hands grabbed at me and I couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. I tried to scream again, but no sound came out. Someone was on top of me and I had to fight. Had to.

“Stop,” a deep voice commanded. He shoved me hard against the ground and sharp bits of gravel cut into my cheek. “It will be worse for you if you resist.”

I heard the clank of iron as my wrists were locked behind me. My attacker dragged me onto my knees while another man held a lantern up to my face. That was when I realized I wasn't surrounded by outlaws.

The two men wore dark uniforms and headdresses that were easy to recognize even in the dim light. They were city police and I was under arrest.

***

My head was bowed, knees pressed to the stone floor of the holding cell with my wrists cuffed behind me. I could hear a strident voice, demanding answers, but I didn't dare look up.

“What is your name?”

I answered but was trembling so hard that the interrogator couldn't hear me.

“What is your name?” he repeated, the question striking against the bare walls.

“Soling,” I said again, trying to raise my voice as much as I dared. “Family name Jin.”

My stomach twisted. Why hadn't I just stayed in the marketplace?

“Who did you come here with?”

Biting down on my lower lip, I shook my head. “No one. I came alone.”

I didn't dare think of the consequences if I was caught in the lie, but I couldn't bear to implicate Hu. He'd done nothing wrong. I'd done nothing wrong, either, but I remembered how it had been when imperial soldiers had swept through our house after Father was arrested.

Anything I said would only make it worse. There was no way to set things right once accused.

Fear was a sign of weakness and weakness was a sign of guilt. It was best to do nothing, say nothing. I kept my eyes lowered and tried to think of home. Of my brother, Tian. Of Mother.

“Do you know that smuggling weapons is a crime punishable by death?” the interrogator prodded.

My heart stopped. “W—weapons? But I wasn't—”

“Speak up!”

“You're frightening her.”

A new, calmer voice came from outside the bars. My gaze flickered up briefly to see a tall man in a high-collared jacket standing outside the cell. He was dressed in black from head to toe, his robe devoid of any insignia. The moment he spoke, the interrogation ceased. It was clear to me who held the authority here.

He stroked a long, sharp beard as he regarded me, and I ducked away, realizing I had been staring for too long.

“I commend you for your dedication, Lieutenant, but the girl doesn't look like a bloodthirsty rebel to me.”

“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?