The Secrets of Jin-Shei. Alma Alexander
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Название: The Secrets of Jin-Shei
Автор: Alma Alexander
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9780007392063
isbn:
There was a tap on the door.
‘Tea, mistress.’
Yuet crossed to the door. ‘I am coming.’
The servant was still wringing her hands. ‘It’s so sudden, mistress, I never meant …; I didn’t mean to …;’
‘You have done nothing wrong. I have looked at her and there are no signs of anything but that you tried to help,’ Yuet said again, soothingly, calming the woman down. ‘There will still be work for you here.’
That was part of the servant’s panic, the fear that she would be dismissed now that the household had changed. She seemed to relax a little at this reassurance, but Yuet found herself wondering if she was in fact in a position to give it. She stepped into the sitting room to pick up the bowl of steaming green tea which the cook had brought in on a lacquered tray, and then went into the tiny alcove that had served Szewan as an office, piled high with scrolls and papers and bound books of recipes for medicines, patient records, agreements, licences and other legal documentation. Somehow Szewan had never quite planned for dying. Yuet knew she would need to go through all this anyway, it was all her responsibility now, at least until she found out otherwise – but she was looking for practical things, for things relating to what would happen to the healer’s practice now that she was gone, whether a journeyman like herself, who had not yet been quite promoted to full mastery, could take over now or if she would need to go looking for some other Linh-an healer with his or her master’s papers and hand over all of Szewan’s accumulated treasury of information to this …; this usurper.
I should have the papers drawn up, Szewan had said. Barely a few hours ago. If only there had been a witness to that – to the utterance which to all intents and purposes graduated Yuet from journeyman to full-fledged healer.
There was. There might have been.
If the cook was led to believe that her having heard that, that her willingness to swear that she had heard that, may have a direct bearing on her livelihood in this household, then maybe a notary could be found …;
Yuet set the bowl of tea aside, and it grew cold, forgotten, as she immersed herself in Szewan’s papers. In rebuilding a future which, through sins of omission, looked as though it might disintegrate around her.
She owed it to Szewan, safeguarding her secrets. She owed it to Szewan’s high-born patients, details of whose illnesses ought not to become bargaining chips for healers who had not earned the trust or the confidence of those patients.
She owed it to Tai, to her jin-shei-bao, to whom she had made a promise – which she might never be able to keep if she was dispossessed of her status and her position. She owed it to the dead of the Summer Palace earthquake, some of whom had passed in their caskets beneath her window that very morning.
She owed it to Liudan, the survivor.
She owed it to herself.
Yuet spent a sleepless night amongst Szewan’s chaotic records, trying to make sense of the world she had inherited. She had finally retired to her room in the last dark hours before dawn and fell into a fitful doze; she was not at her best when she was shaken awake only a few hours later by the servant.
‘Mistress? I’m sorry, mistress, I would not disturb you, but there is a message from the Court, for Mistress Szewan. The man says he must have an answer.’
‘Did you say anything to him about Szewan?’ said Yuet, sitting up, shocked awake.
‘No, Mistress Yuet. I said I would come and wake you.’
‘Thank you. Please tell him I will be there at once.’
It was light outside, full day. Yuet drew on her outer robe in feverish haste, rebraided her tousled hair into a semblance of tidiness with swift, practised fingers, and paused to splash a handful of cold water onto her face, dabbing it dry with one of Szewan’s fine linen towels. It would have to do. It was just a messenger, after all.
The man who had come with the message waited in the hallway, having refused the servant’s invitation into the sitting room.
Yuet greeted him with a bow, and he returned it politely.
‘How may I help you?’ she asked.
‘The healer Szewan is required at the Palace, immediately.’
‘She is …; unavailable,’ said Yuet carefully. She most emphatically did not want the news of Szewan’s death prematurely escaping from this house. She needed time, time to set up her world, her life. Time to organize her future. ‘I am Yuet, her apprentice …; her partner. Is someone ill? May I be of assistance?’
‘If it please you, Mistress Yuet, I come from the Chancellor. Sei Zibo requests the presence of healer Szewan at a meeting of the Imperial Council this morning.’
Yuet’s mind raced. Imperial Council? This had to do with the regency. Why did they want Szewan?
The answer was obvious. Liudan.
‘When is Szewan’s presence required?’ Yuet asked.
‘The meeting is in an hour’s time, Mistress Yuet. I was sent to escort the healer to the Palace immediately.’
‘If you will wait here,’ Yuet instructed, ‘I will need a few moments to make a few arrangements and then I will accompany you myself.’
‘But it is the healer Szewan who …;’
‘She is, as I say, unavailable at this moment,’ Yuet said with a veneer of serenity which hid a wildly beating heart. She was going to gamble on something here; it was a good thing that this was a simple messenger, not a Guard with specific orders, not someone who would think things through and demand explanations. This man was of a lower tier, someone used to taking commands from somebody who knew how to give them, who would follow the last firm command that he was given. All she needed to do was remain firm. ‘Wait here. I will be out as soon as I am ready.’
He was looking a little unhappy, but he bowed his acquiescence and took up a waiting stance at the door. Yuet went back to her room and summoned the servant, who came in so quickly that Yuet was sure she must have been lurking just outside the door, listening.
‘Help me,’ she said. ‘I need assistance with dressing my hair. I will go to the Palace in Mistress Szewan’s name. It is a good thing. At least I will be able to pass on the news without sending wild rumours out. The messenger is waiting to escort me there, we need to be quick.’
The servant nodded, taking up a comb even as Yuet unbraided her hair and shook the rippling dark mass of it out. It spilled, straight and thick and long, almost down to her knees. ‘As simple as formality will allow,’ she instructed, hunting for ornaments on the table in front of her, reaching for the white ribbons of mourning that had to be woven into her hair, sorting out silver clasps to hold the rest of it up. ‘In the meantime,’ she said, while the servant’s deft fingers plaited and coiled, ‘allow СКАЧАТЬ