The veiled throne, p.88
The Veiled Throne, page 88
“Oh baby, don’t be scared. Their Holinesses will get all the evil spirits!”
“They’re channeling Lord Lutho’s powers!”
The wooden orchestra played louder; the incense-carriers hoisted even more braziers; the turtle-carrying nuns danced about the parasol tree, and more explosive eruptions lit up the haze.
Dandelion frowned.
“You look skeptical,” said Kinri.
“I’m trying to figure out how they’re doing it,” said Dandelion. “Zo—err, a friend always said that the universe is knowable.”
“Even the mysteries of the gods?” asked Kinri.
“Especially the mysteries of the gods,” said Dandelion stubbornly.
“I can tell you how they did it,” came a low voice behind them.
They turned and saw that it was Rati Yera, wheeling herself along, Mota Kiphi close behind her.
“It’s very simple,” said the old woman, rather pleased with herself. “That turtle is a silkmotic generator. I bet if you opened it up you’d find a spinning glass disk and a silk-encased rubber. The glowing eyes are probably mercury-vapor lamps. As for the explosions, I imagine they’re sprinkling firework powder on the remaining caterpillars. And then, when they touch the wands, charged with silkmotic force, to the caterpillars, the sparks set off an explosion.”
“How do you know that?” challenged Dandelion.
“Well, these nuns and I are basically in the same profession,” said Rati. “Temple magic is no different from street magic. That’s how I would do it.”
“You can’t compare street entertainment with religious ritual!” said a shocked Kinri.
Rati shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m just telling you what I know.”
“But then… you’re saying this is all fake.”
“No,” said Rati, shaking her head. “Remember what Dandelion said about mind-pleasure? There is a deeper meaning to ritual that goes beyond the incense and the wooden turtle and the spectacle. That part is what matters.”
Kinri wanted to ask for elaboration, but he was interrupted by Widow Wasu, who had emerged from the restaurant with Lodan and Mati in tow.
Widow Wasu went directly to the orchestra and gestured for them to stop playing. The ethereal music ground to a halt, and the nuns stopped dancing.
“Your Holiness,” said Widow Wasu to an old nun standing behind the orchestra, who appeared to be in charge. In fact, she had also been one of the judges at the cooking round of the competition a few weeks earlier. “I’m grateful for your presence. But… who asked you to come? We didn’t ask for an exorcism.”
“I was wondering about that,” whispered Dandelion to Kinri.
“How did you know the Grand Mistress didn’t ask for the exorcism?” whispered Kinri.
“Because she’s too smart to make a mistake like that,” said Dandelion.
“How do you mean?”
“The moment she goes to the temple, she as good as admits that the curse is real.”
Before the old nun could answer Widow Wasu, a rotund and oleaginous man stepped out from behind her, a smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I did,” said Tiphan Huto.
* * *
- The old turtle’s disciples certainly are quick to adopt new machines. Did they, perhaps, feel the absence of their god?
- The rest of us have been trying to answer their queries, but Lutho had his own way of speaking truths. It’s not easy to imitate.
- As long as they put on a good show.
* * *
Widow Wasu stared at Tiphan Huto.
“O Grand Mistress Wasu,” said Tiphan, bowing slightly, hands held together in front. “As a fellow restaurateur, I’m great troubled by reports of evil spirits plaguing one of my distinguished colleagues. Greatly!”
“Your concern is noted,” said Widow Wasu, her tone as cold as the bowls of Rapa’s Feast served a few weeks ago.
“Even though we’re in the middle of a competition, I couldn’t imagine winning as a result of you forfeiting because your place is cursed. I was down at the temple to pray for good fortune, and my staff convinced me that I had to help you.”
“Your staff?”
“Here she comes,” said Tiphan, pointing at an ox-drawn cart clattering down the street.
The cart approached the Splendid Urn, stopped, and Mozo Mu jumped out. “Granny Wasu! Is everything all right? I heard that strange things have been happening at the Urn, and when I was down at the Grand Temple to pray to Lord Lutho for guidance, they said no one from your place has come yet.” She lowered her voice as she leaned in to Widow Wasu’s ear. “I overheard two of Tiphan’s men say that customers were staying away from the Urn because… because of what happened last time. They were speculating maybe that was why you couldn’t afford to pay for an exorcism.”
Widow Wasu looked into the earnest face of the young woman. “You overheard, did you? Were those two men following you around at the temple?”
“Now that you mention it… they were,” said a surprised Mozo. “So… I begged Tiphan to pay for an exorcism out of a sense of fair play.”
“And I’m guessing he didn’t protest too much.”
“He did at first.”
“Oh?”
“So I pointed at the statue of Lord Lutho and said that the gods wouldn’t think it right for us to win under these circumstances because it would be against the rules.”
“How is that against the rules?”
“The rules say that only those already on the staffs of the restaurants could participate in the competition. So if we won because of the help of evil spirits, then either the evil spirits are in his employment—and surely he wouldn’t want to be known to consort with such characters—or he must be cheating by using them as late-addition contractors. In either case, the only way to redeem his good name is by helping you get rid of them.”
Widow Wasu chuckled. “That’s clever.”
“So he agreed to pay for the exorcism. Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought.”
Widow Wasu sighed. “Child, you grew up away from the world of schemes and plots, and though you may know all about how to dress a chicken or clean a fish, you know little of the darkness inside people’s hearts… never mind.”
Mozo Mu tried to conceal her disappointment that her effort at helping Widow Wasu didn’t seem to be as welcome as she had hoped. “I made some snacks for the nuns and your staff. It’s not much, but my father”—she paused and took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in her throat—“my father always said he felt better after eating one of these if he was anxious.”
She took out a large platter of steamed buns from the cart. They were beautifully sculpted, and it was clear that she had spent a lot of time on them.
Widow Wasu’s face softened. “Thank you, child.”
Mozo leaned in again. “The ones with a red dot on them have homunculus mushroom filling. They’re beneficial for the elderly.” She smiled mischievously at Widow Wasu. “Since Tiphan gave me access to such expensive ingredients, I thought I might as well do some good with them.”
Widow Wasu smiled and patted Mozo’s hand. She turned to Mati and Lodan. “Have the kitchen prepare lunch for everyone.”
Teson Wasu, who had joined his mother during this conversation, pulled Widow Wasu aside. “Shouldn’t we get rid of them as soon as possible? Such a public exorcism will only confirm and fan the rumors that the Urn is cursed.”
“I know that!” whispered Widow Wasu. “But do you want to make a scene and chase the nuns away? That’s not going to help things. They’re just being used by Tiphan, and we can’t shirk our obligation as hosts.”
Teson wanted to argue, but Widow Wasu had already turned away.
“We’ll hold a street banquet to thank Their Holinesses and… Master Huto for his generosity.”
“Oh, don’t mention it,” said Tiphan Huto, still grinning in that mirthless manner he had. “I’ve brought along some dipping sauce too. Let’s have lunch together to celebrate the end of the curse on the Splendid Urn and prove to everyone that even in competition, we can still be good friends.”
Widow Wasu’s face twitched, but she said nothing.
* * *
The “celebratory” feast didn’t last very long. Although the food, combining the efforts of both the Splendid Urn and the Treasure Chest, was uniformly deemed excellent, the chill between Widow Wasu and Tiphan Huto cast a pall over the whole affair. Tiphan left after just a few drinks, saying that he had other business to attend to, and Mozo had to go with him.
While the nuns ate, Rati Yera and Mota Kiphi approached to ask if they might be allowed to examine the magical turtle. The senior nuns summarily denied this request; so Mota and Rati resorted to wandering around the turtle in a wide circle, looking at it and whispering to each other as the novitiates and lay assistants glared at them, keeping them at a distance. Kinri, always curious about machines, went to help Mota push Rati’s wheeled chair. Though she got around just fine on her own, thanks to the clever gear trains and long-handled levers, the old street magician appreciated a helping hand from her friends when she requested it. Kinri listened intently as Rati and Mota speculated on the turtle’s operation.
“The silkmotic force is a most wondrous phenomenon,” said Rati. “It’s too bad that the temples like to hoard their knowledge.”
“It’s also a dangerous force,” said Mota. “I’ve seen what it can do when deployed as a weapon.”
“Anything useful is like that,” said Rati. After a pause, she added, “Can you imagine the experiments in the Imperial laboratory at Last Bite?”
Mota made no response, which only piqued Kinri’s interest. But as Rati and Mota continued their discussion of the turtle, they said no more about the mysterious Imperial laboratory.
By the time Kinri got back to the feast, all the steamed buns were gone. He had to content himself with trying out the dipping sauces with leaves of lettuce. They were still tasty, though.
* * *
Widi and Arona, on the other hand, said they weren’t hungry from the start of the feast.
“We’ll go investigate the sites of the misfortunes that have befallen the Splendid Urn over the last few days,” Widi said to Widow Wasu.
“Wait, take me with you!” said Dandelion. “I’ve never investigated a mystery before. That sounds fun!”
“Eat a few buns before you go,” said Widow Wasu. “Mozo made them.”
Dandelion grabbed a steamed bun and ran after Widi and Arona.
“Wait!” called Widow Wasu. “They’re better with the dipping sauces!”
“Too messy!” said Dandelion, stuffing the bun into her mouth as she ran. “Mmm!”
Widow Wasu shook her head, smiling affectionately.
The three went to the intersection where the vegetable carts had broken down, the trails left by the feral dogs, and the now-bare trunk of the parasol tree, looking for clues that the events were the result of sabotage.
“Do you do this sort of thing a lot?” asked Dandelion.
“What, investigating mysteries?” said Widi. He gathered some dead caterpillars from the parasol tree, wrapped them in a piece of cloth, and put the packet away. “Well, as a paid litigator, I do get called on sometimes to solve suspicious cases. The magistrates, even when they mean well, just want cases resolved quickly. They make mistakes.”
“He’s being modest,” said Arona. “I’ll tell you about the time he found a bunch of children kidnapped by a bandit named Laughing Skeleton….”
* * *
Back at the Urn, having zapped the remaining caterpillars on the tree with their magical turtle, the nuns, refreshed by the snacks and drinks, carried the turtle into the restaurant itself and danced through all three floors. They left only as dinner service was about to start.
“Well, that was probably the most expensive extermination effort in the history of Ginpen,” muttered Widow Wasu.
“At least we didn’t have to pay for it,” said Mati.
“And the staff will be assured that the curse has been lifted,” said Lodan. “Mozo is a kindhearted girl, and she’s done us a good deed.”
Widow Wasu shook her head, looking not nearly as reassured. “Keep an eye out for more trouble. I have a bad feeling about this.”
* * *
About an hour into dinner service, the first problems started.
Pénozy was climbing the stairs to bring a bowl of dumpling soup to a customer on the second floor when she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She faltered, and the soup spilled onto her hands.
“What’s wrong?” asked Lodan, standing at the top of the staircase.
“I’m not sure,” said Pénozy. Sweat beaded on her forehead. “I… I have to go to the toilet.”
Lodan took over as the young girl ran off to the bathroom in the back.
When she came out, she felt weak and swayed unsteadily on her feet. A wave of nausea bowed her over. As she threw up, several more waiters and waitresses emerged from the restaurant, running toward the bathroom.
The situation in the kitchen wasn’t much better. Several line cooks experienced stomach cramps and excused themselves, but once they sat down on the toilet, they couldn’t even get up.
As orders backed up in the kitchen and customers waited impatiently for the waitstaff to return, Lodan met Mati in the kitchen.
“We have to shut the kitchen down,” said Lodan, panting and sweating. “I’ve lost most of my servers, and I’m not feeling so great myself.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” said Mati, holding a hot-water pouch to her stomach. “I’ve never felt like this before. We’re lucky that none of the customers seem to be affected yet.”
Widow Wasu agreed with the decision to end dinner service. To have the restaurant’s service disrupted for three days in a row was a terrible blow financially, but there really was no choice.
But by then even Widow Wasu was feeling ill. Lodan and Mati struggled to apologize to the customers and handed out vouchers for future meals. Some of the customers saw the long line of cooks and waitstaff outside the bathroom in the back, and their faces blanched. Soon, rumors began to spread that something was wrong with the food.
As the last customers were leaving, sudden, loud screams came from in front of the restaurant.
Lodan and Mati rushed out, and they were greeted by the sight of hundreds of rats screeching and running through the street, all in a panic. It was as though the neighborhood had been set on fire, or the buildings around them were ships sinking into the sea. The rats dashed about aimlessly, shrieking and clawing at everything. Many of the customers huddled together, terrified by the sight.
Lodan and Mati wanted to help, but they felt so weak that they could barely remain standing. In the end, it fell to Rati, Mota, Arona, and Widi, who seemed unaffected by the strange plague that had afflicted the restaurant staff, to disperse the rodents with their flamethrower, and Dandelion and Kinri, also healthy, hailed hired carriages to bring the terrified customers home.
By morning, whispers of the very real curse afflicting the Splendid Urn could be heard everywhere in Ginpen.
* * *
TWO DAYS LATER.
Lodan handed Pénozy her wages. “It’s a long way home,” she said. “Remember to pack something for the road.” She pointed to a table of pancakes and knot fritters.
Like the other cooks, maids, kitchen boys, waiters, and waitresses who had left the Splendid Urn during the last couple of days, the young girl thanked Lodan but didn’t take any food.
“I’m sorry,” she said, not meeting Lodan’s gaze. She walked to the door, stopped, turned around. “I’m really sorry. But my mother sent word saying that my father is ill, I—”
“It’s all right,” said Lodan. “I understand.”
The girl bit her bottom lip, ashamed, and left. She climbed onto an oxcart and, a moment later, was gone.
Lodan sighed and returned to Widow Wasu’s sitting room.
“How many are left?” asked the widow.
“I have two waitresses willing to stay,” said Lodan.
“Brave of them,” said the widow.
“They say that they’re without parents or children, and the Urn is their home. They don’t care if the curse gets them.”
The widow sighed and nodded. She turned to Mati. “What about you?”
“I’ve got one cook, one busboy, and a scullery maid,” said Mati.
“That would be Munapo, Kinri, and Ruthé, right?”
Mati nodded.
“All of them orphans too,” said the widow. “I guess everyone with a choice has decided to leave.”
“Cowards,” said Teson angrily. “After all you’ve done for these people, Mother, for them to abandon you—”
“Don’t blame them,” said the widow. “They’re scared. If senior nuns from the Grand Temple can’t even chase the evil spirits away, why would they stay?”
“But we know this is because Tiphan did something with the food he brought,” said Teson heatedly. “We should go to the magistrate—”
“We have no proof,” said the widow. “The people he brought also fell sick that evening, including Tiphan himself. How are we going to prove our accusations to the magistrate?”
Teson had no answer.
Mati and Lodan couldn’t contribute to this debate, as they had little understanding of courts and litigators. But they were both certain that everyone had gotten sick because of the food Tiphan and Mozo brought. It was both painful and maddening to think that the young girl could plot against them after the Urn had forfeited the first match to save her family.
“We haven’t been able to hire anyone new, either,” said Teson. “Everyone we’ve spoken to is too afraid to come work at the Urn after everything that’s happened.”
Widow Wasu shook her head. “That wouldn’t have worked anyway. The rules are that we can only use people already on staff on the day each new round of the competition is announced. We can’t just hire a new crew.”
