The veiled throne, p.73
The Veiled Throne, page 73
The guards examined the delegation again in light of the new information. The maid and the manservant pushing Circuit Intendant Suti’s chair were obviously just hired help. Besides Circuit Intendant Suti, arrogant Assistant Circuit Intendant Dadéluon, and nervous Diwi, the only other member of the delegation worthy of notice was the powerfully built young man who hadn’t said anything yet. He must be Suti’s bodyguard and enforcer—probably a farseer himself and allowed to apply extraordinary interrogation techniques (still rumored to be legal for the dreaded farseers) to anyone who stood in the circuit intendant’s way.
Listening between the lines, the guards understood from Diwi there was much pressure on Magistrate Zuda, which meant the magistrate expected their master, Tiphan Huto, to protect the magistrate’s behind and assure these inspectors from the capital that there were no code violations at the Treasure Chest, the biggest private construction project approved by the magistrate.
The guards cursed under their breath that Tiphan had chosen this time to be away.
“Surely Master Huto would understand?” whispered one of the guards to the other.
The other guard nodded. “We’re just trying to help him.”
Shouting at the oxcart drivers to get out of the way, the two guards bowed deeply and invited Circuit Intendant Suti and her retinue to come right in and make themselves at home.
* * *
“I’d call that a pretty good bit of acting,” said Dandelion, her nose turned up proudly. “Did you see how those guards scrambled at my word? I came up with a story for Dadéluon and everything.”
One of the guards had run off to spread the news that the Treasure Chest was about to undergo a surprise code-compliance inspection. While “Circuit Intendant Suti” and her delegation waited in the courtyard for the manager, servants and maids rushed about in barely contained chaos.
“Considering you were pretty much playing yourself, I’d call that merely passable,” said Arona, her tone teasing but friendly.
“Give her more credit than that,” said Rati Yera. “I don’t know how to sound fancy at all; we’re lucky to have her doing most of the talking.”
Dandelion beamed. “I think you have to make me an official member of the Blossom Gang.”
“How so?” asked Arona.
“Hello! I’m called Dandelion! You each have a cool nickname that’s a plant. I fit right in.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Arona. “Our heart-oath isn’t just because we happen to have thematic ‘nicknames.’ It’s because we have similar ideals.” Earlier, she had briefly explained to Dandelion why they were called the Blossom Gang without getting into details about what they each wanted.
“I’m very insightful, you know,” said Dandelion. “I can guess your ideals.”
“This, I have to hear,” said Widi.
Dandelion put on a serious mien. “So Mistress Yera is Bamboo, since bamboos are flexible and useful in all kinds of machines.”
Rati Yera chuckled. “Not bad.”
Dandelion turned to Arona. “You’re Safflower because… uh… safflower oil is good for the skin, and dried safflowers are used to make blush and rouge—”
“That is not why I prize the safflower! It’s because I’m good at disguises and—”
But Dandelion would not be deterred. “That guy, who never talks, is Pine because he’s really strong and… and always stands straight and tall, like a soldier—”
Mota Kiphi smiled and said nothing.
“And what about me?” asked Widi, grinning.
“You! Well, you’re Orchid because… orchid flowers have that hanging tongue-petal, and you are good at wagging your tongue, both for eating and talking.”
Widi laughed. “I’ve never thought of it that way, but I rather like your explanation.”
“And I’m a ray of sunshine, just like my namesake,” said Dandelion. “So you see, I’m completely on theme.”
“O Lady Kana, help me,” said Arona. “You’re insufferable. You can’t be our heart-oath sister, but I can’t stop you from following us around. I guess you are like the weed you are named after: It’s impossible to get rid of you.”
“So I’m a member of the extended Blossom Gang?” asked Dandelion.
Rati, Mota, and Widi nodded, laughing, and after a moment, Arona did as well.
“Hey, what about me?” asked Kinri.
“Of course you’re an extended member,” said Rati. “We came here to help you, didn’t we?”
“Don’t I need a flower, though?”
For some reason, everyone turned to Dandelion.
“Him?!” Dandelion, apparently still a bit miffed over the “fire-breathing spiderweb” comment earlier, looked at Kinri critically. Then her eyes lit up. “Since you’re so awkward and gangly, you are… Thasé-teki.”
Arona burst out laughing, and even Widi and Mota smiled. Rati, ever protective, said, “That’s a little mean, Dandelion.”
The thasé-teki, commonly known as “caterpillar grass,” was a kind of caterpillar infected by a fungus. The caterpillar lived underground, and after infection by the fungus, the mycelia spread throughout the body of the host, eventually killing the caterpillar as the mycelia stiffened into a hard endosclerotium. A stroma then developed out of the dead caterpillar and sprouted aboveground in a grasslike spindly stalk in the spring. Though useful in medicine, it was not a very pretty “flower.”
“Hey, don’t just focus on appearance!” said Dandelion. “The caterpillar grass may look plain and taste bitter, but it is full of virtues that bring relief to the sick. Our Thasé-teki may be the opposite of handsome and eloquent, but it is his idea that got us in here.”
Kinri blushed, torn between embarrassment and pride. Was Dandelion mocking or complimenting him? Or maybe a bit of both?
“Good thing that Tiphan Huto wasn’t around,” Kinri muttered. “We were lucky.”
“Nah,” said Widi, trying to change the topic to make Kinri feel less awkward. “Luck had nothing to do with it. Even if Tiphan were around, I could have gotten him to invite us to tea. The only thing I like better than food is talking about regulations and codes.”
Kinri had been inspired by Magistrate Zuda’s kitchen inspectors, who visited the Splendid Urn every month to make sure that the restaurant had plenty of filled water cisterns and sand buckets on hand and that the stairways and hallways were clear of obstructions. Prime Minister Cogo Yelu had promulgated a whole series of rules for crowded public establishments like restaurants, inns, indigo houses, gambling parlors, and so forth to ensure the safety of the patrons and to prevent disastrous city fires—though many business owners grumbled that the constant inspections were just an excuse to employ more clerks and to ensure tax compliance. Widi had taken Kinri’s idea and run with it, leading to their elaborate ruse.
“Coming in here as the circuit intendant’s delegation instead of sneaking in gives us lots of advantages,” said Widi. “We can basically look anywhere we want to, and they wouldn’t be able to say no.”
“Still, it’s risky,” said Kinri. “Tiphan has seen you, me, and Arona—”
“Look in a mirror. I doubt even your mother would recognize you now. You have to trust Arona’s makeup skills.”
Kinri looked around at everyone—he did think of them now as the extended Blossom Gang—and had to admit that Widi was right. He wouldn’t have recognized any of them.
Finally, a manager named Giphi emerged from the restaurant proper to greet them, apologizing profusely for making them wait, bowing with every other word. It was such an honor for the circuit intendant to deign to inspect their humble establishment! The management deeply regretted the mix-up at the door! The Treasure Chest was almost ready to be opened to the public, maybe as soon as next week, after the competition with the Splendid Urn.
“Oh?” Dandelion perked up at the mention of the competition. “I heard something about this. The Splendid Urn has been known as the Best Restaurant in Ginpen for years. Are you sure you’ll be able to beat them?”
“Honorable circuit intendant and assistant circuit intendant, not to sound boastful, but our master has come prepared. The Wasus, after all, have only grown to prominence during the last few decades, whereas the Hutos have generations of wealth and connections to draw on. The outcome of the competition is like the Hegemon’s famous sword, not in doubt. It’s just a way to build up even more interest in our grand opening. If Your Honors will be around next week, you should be judges for the competition!”
“Circuit Intendant Suti” and “Assistant Circuit Intendant Dadéluon” made some noncommittal noises as Mota pushed the wheeled chair into the restaurant.
Giphi happily pointed out all the unique features of the first floor to the inspectors. As the theme of the floor was the Realm of Fire, most of the tables were set up with a charcoal brazier in the middle to grill meats and vegetables table side or to boil soup for hot pot. Hot pot and barbecue had always been popular in Rima and Faça, and the influx of refugees from Unredeemed Dara had made them even more popular since grilling was the Lyucu’s favorite style of cooking, and the refugees’ tales of Lyucu feasts made people curious. Hot pots and grilled platters were relatively affordable for large groups, and the best choice for middle-class families interested in dining out at an upscale place.
The ironwood tables and woven bamboo sitting mats would have been functional and attractive but for the fact that everything was painted a shade of gold. Combined with the chandeliers encrusted with fake emeralds and rubies, the effect was rather garish.
“Eating here is going to give me a headache,” whispered Arona. “I feel like I’m inside a magpie’s nest.”
“I think whoever designed this place took the name of the restaurant too literally,” whispered Dandelion.
Kinri shook his head in wonder. Some of the Lyucu thanes back home had decorated their houses in a similar manner, and he had learned from Nazu Tei that such ostentation was not considered “classy”—though quite appropriate for a man like Tiphan Huto.
“Most of these were taken from actual old forges in Rima,” said Giphi, pointing at the hammers, clamps, tongs, and other implements of the blacksmithing trade hanging on the walls as decoration. The advent of more advanced furnaces capable of producing steel had rendered many old blacksmith shops obsolete, and Tiphan Huto had acquired the tools for scrap prices to add a touch of rustic charm to the place—which, again, would have been a good idea had the tools not also been painted in gleaming gold.
“How many bags of sand do you have stored per floor for fire suppression?” asked Dandelion, her tone superior and officious.
“Err, let me think…. Four bags are stored here, on the first floor.”
“What?” Dandelion’s eyebrows shot up (she was going for an imitation of Prince Gimoto, the inspiration for the role of “Dadéluon”). “Don’t you remember what happened here during the Battle of Ginpen? Have you no respect for Kon Fiji’s admonition to always prepare for the future with an eye on history?”
During that battle years ago, the Lyucu had assaulted the city with garinafin fire, and though most of the city residents had escaped harm due to the order to evacuate or to shelter in underground bunkers, the fire had spread to half the city as a result of poor construction and lack of fire prevention measures. Officials in Ginpen were thus extra vigilant about violations of the fire code.
“Imperial regulation requires at least one bag of sand on hand per twenty diners in capacity,” said Widi. “And considering you’re planning to have open flames right here in the dining hall, you should add even more. Fire suppression cannot be neglected.”
“If you intend to become the leading restaurant in Ginpen,” said Dandelion, her brows furrowed with concern, “you must take the duties of a role model seriously and set an example for the other restaurants in this city of learning to emulate. Follow the code down to every semantic root and inflection glyph!”
“Of course, of course! I’ll get this remedied right away,” promised Giphi.
“Take us upstairs,” said Dandelion. “Let’s see what other safety regulations have been violated. So far, this is not looking good, not good at all; you understand?”
Giphi bowed a few more times and showed the delegation to the stairs. He paused as he looked at Rati’s wheeled chair. “Um… the honorable circuit intendant…”
“Don’t you have a lift installed?” asked Rati.
Farsight Secretary Zomi Kidosu, who had once required a leg brace to move around, had pushed the empress to issue a proclamation to require all public-serving businesses beyond a certain size to make accommodations for patrons with mobility limitations. Unlike some of Zomi’s more radical reform proposals, this particular measure had been supported by most Moralist scholars as being in line with the respect due the aged—who often needed wheeled chairs or other assistance to move around—and the large number of veterans who had lost limbs during the wars of the past decades.
“If Your Honor wouldn’t mind, we could use the dumbwaiter at the back—”
“Surely you’re not suggesting that your patrons be carried between the floors like platters of food!” reprimanded Dandelion. “Is this really how you intend to satisfy your code obligations? I’ll have some choice words with Magistrate Zuda—”
“Most insightful and compassionate Assistant Circuit Intendant Dadéluon,” broke in Widi. “I’m sure Manager Giphi made this suggestion only because construction at the restaurant isn’t finished yet. A proper lift is most definitely part of the plans, right?”
Giphi wiped the sweat from his brow. “Y-yes! Master Diwi is absolutely correct. We have plans for a most comfortable lift for our honored customers who do not wish to use the stairs.” Despite his valiant efforts, he couldn’t quite disguise the horror of having to explain to his boss why the opening of his restaurant might have to be delayed in order to add in lifts.
“Meanwhile, it’s a good thing that I’ve brought good help,” said Rati Yera. She gestured to Mota Kiphi, who bent down and easily scooped her up and began to climb the stairs to the second floor, while Kinri and Arona collapsed and folded up the wheeled chair and carried it up behind them.
“Come on!” said Dandelion to Giphi. “Don’t dawdle! We haven’t got all day.”
Giphi swallowed a sigh and ran up the stairs obediently. He only hoped that he’d still have a job by the end of the day.
* * *
After the conclusion of the inspection of the restaurant proper, Giphi had a long scroll of changes that had to be made for the Treasure Chest to open. Just thinking about presenting these demands to Tiphan Huto made his heart palpitate in terror. But his ordeal wasn’t over yet.
“Now we need to inspect the kitchen and storage areas,” said Widi Tucru. “Food safety is very important.”
“But there are some… um… proprietary processes in the kitchen, intended for the upcoming competition—”
“So?” cut in Dandelion. “Are you suggesting that the circuit intendant is going to disclose your trade secrets? Are you trying to insult a government official?”
“Not at all!” pleaded Giphi. “It’s just that… our chef is deeply engrossed in designing the menu for the competition and cannot be disturbed to accompany you on this inspection. I’m not sure any of the rest of us can explain the food safety measures that are in place, as the chef is an artist and quite particular about doing things the chef’s own way.”
“No matter,” said Dandelion dismissively. “We are just here to inspect things for compliance with Imperial regulations, not to learn about cooking. As ladies of virtue and learning, we care nothing for culinary details involving dirty grease and unsightly blood.”
Giphi sighed with relief. Tiphan Huto had repeatedly emphasized that the secrets of Chef Mozo Mu must be kept away from prying eyes. Most of the waitstaff hadn’t even been allowed in the kitchen. At least he could assure his boss that the government inspectors weren’t interested in cooking techniques.
* * *
The tour began with the kitchen.
Inside the long building, separated from the main restaurant, teams of cooks busied themselves at stoves along the two walls as well as at the island in the middle: chopping, shelling, peeling, coring, kneading, carving, stirring, boiling, frying, grilling, roasting, tasting, smelling, arguing…. The din of knife slamming against chopping block, spoon banging against pan, meat and vegetables sizzling in oil, sous-chefs shouting orders to assistants, was deafening. Despite the excellent ventilation of high windows, assisted by spinning fans operated by dogs running inside treadwheels, the air was permeated by steam and smoke, flavored with a thousand delicious spices and aromas.
“Oh, this is wonderful,” said Widi. The bump in his throat moved up and down as he swallowed, and the fingers of his right hand wriggled as if already itching for a pair of eating sticks.
There was a high platform erected in the middle of the kitchen, on top of which a child of about twelve paced about, shouting directions to teams scattered around the enormous kitchen through a bamboo-and-silk trumpet that amplified her voice. With all the noise and hubbub around, she seemed like a general barking orders on a battlefield, or a foreman supervising one of the big manufacturing workshops in Dimu or Dimushi.
“Ha!” said Dandelion. “Look at that girl giving orders. So cute. Is she your master’s daughter?”
“Uh… No, no! Our master has not yet found a suitable match,” said Giphi.
“Who is she then?”
“Oh, just… just a helper. It’s good luck in Faça to have a young girl in the kitchen to… you know, keep an eye on things.”
Dandelion, whose mother was from Faça, had never heard of this custom. But she decided not to pursue the matter. “Where’s the chef?” she asked.
The inspection team looked around. Everyone was curious to see this Mozo Mu, descendant of the legendary Suda Mu.
