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Lin Chen can feel Changsu’s eyes on him. He pretends he does not. The little bottle sits like a curse between his fingers, sunlight catching the glass and shining off the water inside. He can’t quite hate Wei Zheng. In Wei Zheng’s position, he has done no less, has in fact done far more. The ugly choice that Wei Zheng has now placed in his hands is not his fault.
He has always known what Changsu would choose, if given the choice. His dedication to his cause is matched only by his determination to harm no one but himself, even when that has proved impossible. That horrific cure was never really on the table. There are other things, though, that can be done with Binxu grass. Trades that Changsu can make with only his own health on the bargaining table. Options that Lin Chen can give him, each one of them ugly and painful, but possible. Changsu is even aware of a few of them. He has not asked yet, and Lin Chen does not know his answer.
He gives the little bottle another turn. A single delicate stalk of the grass has begun to brown. Whatever choice he makes, Lin Chen will have to make soon.
He had come to Jinling with a well-stocked pharmacy, prepared to work any number of his usual miracles. Keeping Changsu alive has always required a delicate balance of shockingly varied medicines, which has only grown as the stress and cold of Jinling degraded his health. Yan-Daifu had sent requests, and Lin Chen had packed accordingly. He had not, however, packed everything, and what he is now considering requires a wide array of ingredients not called for in any of his usual procedures. He glares into his medicine case. He is long past cursing fate for putting him in this position, but he is not above cursing Changsu, for asking nothing of the Yaowang Valley Sus when they were here. He can hardly send Wei Zheng back again; he would never return in time. Lin Chen sighs. He will have to visit Jinling’s herb markets, and hope that somewhere in this city is a vendor of adequate quality.
What Lin Chen quickly discovers, is that while there are many vendors in the city that promise quality, there are none whose word he trusts, and none who offer the variety of specialized good that he requires. Careful inspection of wares gets him a third of his list in acceptable condition, and another third with which he might make do. For the final third there is apparently nothing in the city that even approximates what he needs, even if his procedures permitted approximation, which they do not. After a week spent in the markets, Lin Chen is in a foul mood, and all too ready to inflict a little misery on Changsu. Changsu, conveniently, provides him with an immediate opportunity.
“You are not invited, and so you are not going.” Changsu’s voice is flat and humourless.
Lin Chen gazes at him with lazy indifference as they walk together to the door. “As a member of your household, and your own esteemed guest, I would assume that your invitation applies to myself as well. And you are going, so clearly I am going too.”
Changsu seethe in an appropriately hilarious fashion. “This is the capital. There are rules. You are a jianghu person of no status. You cannot just invite yourself to a marquis’s birthday party.”
“And yet you, a jianghu person of no status, will be in attendance.”
“With the marquis’s personal invitation”
“Which you have so kindly extended to your dearest friend, to whom you owe your life, and from whom nothing could possibly separate you. This truly is a bond of legend, such as the jianghu is so well known for in the capital.”
They have reached the gate, where Li Gang is waiting with the carriage. Changsu continues to look enraged. Lin Chen hands him up into the carriage, before perching himself at his side.
The party is lively and boisterous. They are greeted at the door by Yan Yujin who is, gratifyingly, delighted to see them in spite of Changsu’s long-suffering introduction. “My father is currently speaking with an old friend, a woman with the surname of Han, but I am sure he will come to greet you both soon.”
Changsu glances his way, a question in his eye, and Lin Chen inclines his head. His own messenger had arrived last night to say that Madame Han was within a day’s journey of the city. Changsu has the good grace to look slightly less annoyed, and changes the subject.
It’s a wonderful party. The food is excellent, the wine plentiful, and Yan Yujin is an adorable surrogate host. Even Changsu’s dour temperament begins to improve. Lin Chen mingles with any number of high-ranked ministers and dignitaries, most of whom seem mildly perplexed by his presence. It is with much-improved spirits that he makes his way back towards Changsu through a corridor, when an unexpected scent catches his attention.
Despite Changsu’s assertions, Lin Chen is a well brought up person. He would never violate his host’s privacy during a social call. It would be inexcusable, for example, to break into a marquis’s private alchemy lab in the middle of said marquis’s birthday party, in order to search said alchemy lab for certain hard to find medicinal herbs, which one has reason to believe can be found therein. These would be the actions of a man without honour, of a man who has only desperation to his name. Lin Chen finds himself frozen before the doorway, when a voice catches his ear.
“Young Master Lin.” He turns and finds himself face to face with his host. Marquis Yan is unmistakable, whipcord thin and upright, with sharp eyes in his aging face. He wears a wry half-smile, the barest hint of softness to the severity of his presence. “My son mentioned that you were a guest here; I had wondered whether you might join me for a cup of tea.”
Much to Lin Chen’s surprise, he finds himself settled at a low table in Marquis Yan’s lab, with a kettle on the coals between them. The sounds of the party are muffled here, and against their background murmur, the marquis sighs.
“I met your father, you know. Just once. It was one of the last trips Marshal Lin and I took together in the Jianghu, and we stopped briefly at the mountain.” A wry smile quirks his lips. “Your father made such a show of annoyance with Marshal Lin for arriving unannounced. They squabbled most of the weekend, but I have rarely enjoyed finer hospitality.”
Lin Chen bites his tongue on a vaguely hunted feeling. “I am glad that you found our hall a pleasant place. I am afraid my father has been travelling for some time now, so you must accept my respects in his place.”
Marquis Yan’s eyes are, just for a moment, impossibly distant. “No, I would not expect to find him here. The time of my generation is ended, and those of us who remain must rely on our children to fulfil our obligations.” A shadow of bitterness crosses his face. “I often wonder, if Lin Xie were here, what he would make of these times. But then, even he might not have dared the path his son now treads.”
Lin Chen does not quite startle. Changsu had mentioned his cover was not entirely intact, but his terse reports had never mentioned the Yan family. Marquis Yan, though, shakes his head. “It might not be obvious to any who did not know him well as a child. And among those who did, almost none have bothered to make a study of the rare poisons that can be found on our frontiers.”
“But you have.”
Marquis Yan nods slowly. “A pointless indulgence, but hope is a strange, cruel thing.” His eyes flick to the pharmacy lining the walls. “The herb sellers tell me you’ve made something of a similar study lately.”
Lin Chen inclines his head. For a moment, there is silence. Something hangs in the air, thick and unsettling. Finally Marquis Yan speaks.
“I am no doctor. My medical experience stretches no farther than what men might do on the battlefield to survive. I am quite certain, however, that mine is the most extensive pharmacy in Jinling, save only perhaps those within the palace. If there is anything you have been unable to find in the markets, please consider my collections open to you.
Lin Chen swallows back a wave of relief. There is something else; the marquis eyes have not lost their edge, but that will come in due time. For the moment he is simply grateful. “That would be welcome. As it happens, there are a few items I have not been able to locate here.”
Marquis Yan rises. “In that case, let me show you what I have.”
The marquis’s collection is shockingly comprehensive. In short order, Lin Chen has found everything he was unable to find in the market, and a few things he hadn’t thought it worth even looking for, rare as they were. He raises an eyebrow and Marquis Yan laughs. “It’s perhaps excessive, but I have had over thirty years to consider this problem.” The distant look is back in his eyes. “I also used to travel more.”
Lin Chen pauses in his inspection of a particularly rare mushroom. It is dry and fragile, but should still be potent enough. “This is an unusual subject area for an alchemist.”
“My sworn brother was charged with guarding the northern border at Meiling. The poison is a thing of legend, but with the Lin family, I have always found it wiser to be prepared.” He shakes his head. “Even so, I do not know if he would have chosen Xiao-Shu’s cure, if the choice were his to make.”
When the choice was his to make, thinks Lin Chen, Lin Xie had thrown his only son off a cliff. He remembers his father’s distress and is, for a moment, profoundly grateful that it was the son, rather than the father, who had found himself under their knives. He clears his throat. “And have you found your studies rewarding?”
Marquis Yan nods. “I enjoy a challenge.” Tension returns to his frame for just a moment, and he pauses. “There was a time, four years ago, when I was quite certain I had found a cure that would work.” His eyes raise to meet Lin Chen’s, cautious. “I am no doctor, however. I lack experience with the complexity of the human body, and theories can bring one only so far.”
Lin Chen feels his fingers twitch. He keeps his breathing even through sheer force of will. Hope is, as the marquis had said, a cruel thing, and Lin Chen does not have the luxury of time. Still, it would only be polite to inquire. He sets the mushroom down carefully. “Even so, I would be interested to hear what your theories have suggested, if you have a mind to share them.”
A burst of laughter from the corridor shatters the moment. Marquis Yan’s eyes dart toward the door, and his mouth twists into a wry smile. “This is a longer conversation, perhaps, than is appropriate for a party, and I have neglected my guests somewhat. If you would be willing to return on another day, perhaps we could speak on this issue in more depth. I would be very interested to hear more news of Langya hall in any case.”
“That would be most welcome.” Lin Chen bows, and they both make their way out of the laboratory and part ways. Marquis Yan turns to attend to his guests, and Lin Chen wanders off in search of Changsu, who squints at him when Lin Chen interrupts his conversation with Minister Shen.
He finds himself making frequent visits to the Yan household, availing himself of the marquis’s laboratory equipment and talking over obscure theories. Marquis Yan is, he finds, excellent company, with a long memory and a vicious, merciless wit that spares neither friend nor foe. That Changsu views these meetings with deep suspicion is an added benefit. He glares after the carriage as it rolls away, the faintest hint of color rising in his cheeks. Lin Chen watches right back. He does not think Changsu has noticed, but his condition is already improving.