Clockwork Samurai (19 page)

“I want all of this,” he confessed, pausing only for a moment before closing his mouth over mine once more. “I want a life with you. To marry you, as we had intended.”

It was a long time before we pulled apart. But even then, his arms remained around me. He rested his cheek against my forehead while I tried to catch my breath.

“But I'm in constant danger, Soling. The imperial court doesn't trust me. It never will. I can't tie you to my fate when my future is so uncertain.”

“The danger will never go away,” I told him. “And not because of this impending war with the West or because of the politics of the imperial court. It will never go away because you are Chen Chang-wei. You are who you are.”

He reached out to run his thumb over my cheek. “Soling, I know you think I'm like Lord Takeda. Country before family, public before private. I know there are things I should have told you. For a long time now.”

I was afraid that if I said something, he'd veer off course. So I remained as quiet and still as I could, willing him to continue.

“These are dangerous times, and I've committed to this path.”

Now I couldn't remain silent. “I have as well,” I told him, annoyed.

“I know you have. I know it even more now.”

He reached for me in the tiniest of movements. His hand upon my elbow, drawing me closer more from will than physical touch.

“I told you before I guessed why Aguda had sent you with me.”

I knew now, too. “Because of Yang Hanzhu. If you needed him, he would be more likely to help you with me by your side.”

“Not only that,” he denied, his tone fierce. “It's easy to get lost in a cause, to sacrifice yourself needlessly. He wanted someone to remind me why it was all important in the first place. Someone to bring me back.”

I could barely breathe. “You need me,” I told him fiercely.

Chang-wei smiled, one of his rare, genuine smiles that made my heart melt. “I do need you.”

Before I could reply, we were interrupted by a creak of the stairs. We pulled apart quickly while Yang Hanzhu took one deliberately heavy step after another.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” he said blandly, walking past us. He spared Chang-wei one pointed look before heading down the corridor. Together we stared at his back as he retreated.

When Chang-wei looked back at me, the moment was broken. But he was still breathing hard, his eyes bright and color high on his cheeks. He looked happy, as if there were no other place in the world where he could fit like this. And I felt the same. I felt it in my heart. This was part of the connection between us, and it could never be completely broken.

The door to Yang's laboratory wasn't locked. I was correct in guessing I would find him in there. He stood by one of the lab tables wearing a thick pair of gloves. Before him was Satomi's electrical cell. He had managed to remove the center panel and was scraping some of the residue from inside.

“What is in there?”

Yang remained focused on his work. “A mixture of salt and acid. There are multiple compartments surrounding the main chamber. They're all fitted with some confounded machinery.”

Yang's focus was alchemical. Mechanical principles eluded him. I should have known that Yang or Chang-wei would fall over himself to dissect Lord Sagara's invention.

“I recognized the name Sagara immediately. Struck down in daylight, without a single protest. Such a waste,” he spat. “A waste of a great mind. The same thing will happen to Chang-wei if he stays around the nest of ignorance that is the Forbidden City. Just think of the name. The place is closed off and isolated by design. Yet its inhabitants command the entire empire.”

“At least Chang-wei believes in something,” I argued.

“I believe in something,” Yang insisted. He squared his shoulders while I waited, a look of challenge in my eyes. He only spoke one word.

“Peking.”

I frowned at him, but a moment later I remembered his singular focus, the one reason he'd built this laboratory. “What's in Peking?”

“I've traced the tainted opium shipments to Peking.”

My reply froze on my tongue. If the opium had reached Peking, then it could have found its way into my mother's hands. Or Emperor Yizhu's . . .

“Are you certain?” I asked, my heart racing. I trusted my mother when she promised she would no longer seek out opium, but someone had procured the drug for the Son of Heaven. And numerous officials and eunuchs still indulged in it, despite all the edicts and decrees.

“There was some effort to make the drug less potent,” Yang reasoned. “The samples I isolated had less of the opiate compounds, but the mixture was a stronger hallucinogenic.”

Right before I'd fled Yang's ship a year ago, I'd found disturbing evidence down in the cargo hold. “Are you experimenting on people?” I demanded. “Making them sick?”

He was shocked by my accusation. “Those were my men, afflicted after a visit to an opium den in Macau. It was my first clue something was wrong with the opium supply.”

Chang-wei and I had witnessed isolated incidents of a strange affliction, seemingly brought on by opium use. Instead of the typical laconic stupor, the afflicted first fell into a comatose state before waking enraged. In Changsha, it had even been mistaken for mad dog sickness.

Was it spreading? And why did we encounter such resistance when we wanted to study opium at the Ministry's laboratory?

“I must warn the Emperor,” I said. “And all of Peking.”

“It seems you've inherited Chen Chang-wei's blind obedience to his masters,” Yang remarked casually.

I threw him a cutting look. “Between your hatred and Chang-wei's sense of righteousness, at least Chang-wei can grow and change. Your hatred can't go anywhere.”

Turning on my heel, I reached the door before Yang called to me. “Chang-wei asked me to watch after you if something were to happen to him.”

I looked back. “How could you possibly watch after me when I'm in Peking and you're sailing the oceans as an outcast?”

He grinned. “How did you think I knew to be in Nagasaki at this exact time,
mèimèi
?”

* * *

I had seen the treaty port of Shanghai from the mainland, but to approach by sea was another matter. It was nothing like the guarded bay at Nagasaki, with a few ships dotting the harbor. Western steamships and airships were thick in the sea and air.

How many of the cargo ships out there were transporting crates of opium? Nothing but opium. There was little the trading ships brought that was of any use to us. The foreigners shipped the poison to our shores, and we were forced to let them in. And our populace breathed the black smoke into our lungs, willingly enslaved.

The invasion was already here. The war already lost. And men like Chen Chang-wei worked in secret, quietly waiting for the fight to begin again.

“You can still join with us,” Chang-wei said to Yang as we stood on the bow.

Yang's expression was unreadable. “No. I can't.”

“It won't remain like this forever.”

Together they surveyed the port, taking in the iron monsters. I hadn't mentioned Lord Sagara's secret organization to either of them. I was almost certain they'd laugh at me for being foolish.

“Take care,” I told Yang.

“Remember what I told you.” His eyes met mine, and I knew what he spoke of. Peking and the tainted opium. We would meet again; I was certain of it.

We said farewell to our companions before disembarking. I was sad to see Satomi go. For a little while, I had imagined she would join me in the imperial city. With her gunsmith skills, we would have found a place for her. But she had preferred
to remain alone when she had been in Nagasaki. She and Makoto had left their homeland behind, but they were certainly not ready to pledge loyalty to a new empire.

Chang-wei and I set foot on Chinese soil once again, and I felt both a flood of relief and tension. We were home, but now there was work to do. The familiar smells and sounds of the city hit me as we cleared the docks.

At the trading house, Chang-wei produced a jade seal that proclaimed his rank. “Take me to the Governor General of Ningpo,” he commanded.

The lowly clerk looked from the seal to us in confusion before disappearing to seek out a superior. We didn't have the look of important officials in our travel-worn attire.

“It will take some time and an army of bureaucrats,” Chang-wei told me. The first signs of weariness were finally showing around his eyes. “But soon we'll be on our way back to Peking.”

* * *

I would always feel a sweep of emotion upon returning to Peking. It was the place of my birth, the seat of our empire. A place of palaces and temples.

The first time I had flown over it, my brother Tian was by my side. He had been raised onto his toes, clinging to the rail to peer down into the capital.
Look at that!
There's the Summer Palace!
We had pointed out the sights to each other, two excited children, though he was nine and I was eighteen.

“There's the Imperial Academy and the Ministry of Science.” I had pointed out a cluster of structures outside the dome of the Forbidden City, and my brother and I had fallen silent in reverence. Those were our sacred temples, where we hoped to worship.

This time there was only Chang-wei and me standing side by side. A cool breeze blew around us, whipping my hair back as I closed my eyes and breathed it in. His hand closed over mine.

I opened my eyes to look at him. His focus was down below, below and inward. There was something so beautiful and distant in his profile at that moment. As if I had more of a sense of him than he did. I could almost see his mind working away, ready for the next task, but his hand was still on mine.

“I wish we could have accomplished more,” Chang-wei said with a sigh.

I know he had hoped for collaboration between our two empires, but even though we were neighbors, the empire of Japan and our kingdom were worlds apart. Japan had made a concerted effort to set itself apart from us, and we had done our part to sever ties.

“With the American fleet sailing toward Edo, perhaps their thoughts on an alliance will shift in the future,” I said.

“Perhaps,” Chang-wei echoed absently. “Perhaps.”

But for now, our two nations had their own enemies to face.

An escort was waiting for us at the airfield outside the Summer Palace. We were ushered into a carriage with little ceremony and taken directly to the Forbidden City.

Headman Aguda, clad in his black robe, met us outside the Grand Council. His gaze flickered to me before centering on Chang-wei.

“My report will be ready by tomorrow morning,” Chang-wei told him.

“You can give your report directly, Engineer Chen.”

Chang-wei frowned at the breach in protocol. It was late in the day—long after the Emperor had halted all audiences.

“You as well, Miss Jin,” the head of security said when I stood back. “In case there are any questions.”

The Emperor had seemed so dismissive of Chang-wei's proposal, I was surprised there was such interest now. But next to the Emperor, the Grand Council held the highest authority in the land.

Before entering, Chang-wei relinquished a long wooden case to Headman Aguda. It held the Sagara flintlock rifle, beautifully crafted in wood and steel. Aguda opened the barrel and checked for ammunition. When satisfied there was none, he set the firearm back in the case. He didn't hand the case back to Chang-wei. Instead, he held on to it and beckoned with a nod of his head for us to follow.

The chamber was a small, intimate space. Five men were seated around the table with Emperor Yizhu sitting at the head. Membership in the council was by the Emperor's appointment. It could be as few as two and as many as twenty. To the left of Yizhu sat his brother Yixin, titled as Prince Gong, who was the head of the council. The others were all high-ranking Manchurians of noble blood. And then there was Chang-wei and me standing before them.

Emperor Yizhu showed no visible reaction to seeing Chang-wei alive and well, even though the forbidden treatment they'd forced upon him would have killed him by now. It was entirely possible Yizhu had never known. Where had the order come from? Headman Aguda? The Grand Council?

Aguda set the rifle down before the Emperor, opening the case to display the weapon. Emperor Yizhu stared at it, his expression flat. I could tell he was unmoved by the firearm, no matter how sleek and deadly it was. Gunpowder had originated with our engineers, and our cannons had already failed us against the West.

Finally Yizhu nodded dispassionately. “What else?”

Chang-wei knelt and placed the scroll before him. With one sharp tug, the length of silk unfurled like the whip of a dragon's tail.

The scroll stopped dramatically at the foot of the dais where the Grand Council could stare down at it. These weren't the vague sketches and diagrams I had seen in Chang-wei's notebook. What he had compiled to present to the Emperor was something far grander.

It was a vision. A scene that spoke so clearly, Chang-wei didn't need to say a word. A mechanical legion stood shoulder to shoulder from one end of the scroll to the other. Each warrior was outfitted with masks, body armor and weaponry more fearsome than even the
hitokiri
we had faced.

Chang-wei had replicated the same image again and again so his vision was unmistakable. Firepower, steel and numbers. And within each breastplate was a glowing power source, painted as blue fire. That part was his own embellishment, but it presented a dramatic visual.

As the Grand Council surveyed the scroll, Chang-wei reached into his robe and extracted a metallic object. He placed it onto the scroll.

“The most important weapon of all,” he announced.

It was the electrical cell. The source of power that had restarted Chang-wei's heart when it stopped beating, but that one surge had burnt it out. Had he repaired it?

He turned the dial, and the cell began to vibrate, humming to life with a loud whir of gears. There was something else. A light began to glow through the glass plate of the device. It shined blue.

This wasn't the same electrical cell Lord Sagara had created. It was something new.

I searched Chang-wei's expression and knew the answer. What one man could do, another could do. He'd lain in bed for the last part of the journey, but he wasn't resting.

“An army,” Yizhu murmured, thoroughly enthralled.

“Unlike the world has ever seen, Imperial Majesty.”

Chang-wei bowed his head low, but his tone was anything but humble. He was learning how to appeal to an empire's vanity. My own heart pounded as I stared at the war masks on the scroll. Were there meant to be soldiers inside the armored suits? Or were they all intended to be automatons, built solely for the purpose of destruction?

Karakuri
warriors in a clockwork army. A war of blood and smoke and sharp metal gears.

The entire council had fallen silent. This time when Yizhu nodded, they all murmured and nodded in kind.

A weight settled on my chest, and it grew heavier with each breath. Part of me knew this is what we needed, but the other half of my soul recalled the cautionary tales my father had taught me. A million souls had poured their blood and sweat into the ground to build our Grand Canal. The bones of laborers were ground into the mortar that held the Great Wall together. I had thought these were merely tales about tyrants of the past, seduced by power, but I was wrong.

I understood what this clockwork army would cost. Factories erected in the provinces, black smoke filling the air, increased labor conscripts. Not just men and women, but children as well.

“You have done well, Engineer Chen.” Despite his words, the Emperor did not appear pleased. “These advancements will suit our new course perfectly.”

“Forgive this lowly servant for being away from court for so long. What new course does the Son of Heaven speak of?”

“We have stayed quiet for too long. Our enemies take this for weakness.” His voice broke. “The rebels have taken
Shanghai.”

Chang-wei stiffened beside me, and my breath caught. How had the imperial reinforcements fallen so quickly? Yizhu's hard demeanor wavered, and for a moment he was a just young man, only a year older than myself, with an empire on his thin shoulders. Broken and worn to the bone. A moment later, his youth faded away, and he was Emperor once more.

“We are the children of the dragon,” he declared with his jaw locked tight. “The greatest empire under Heaven. It is time for us to show our strength.”

The Grand Council all nodded in agreement. All except the Emperor's brother, who kept his head bowed.

“No more diplomacy. No more appeasement,” Yizhu declared with a curl of his lip. “From this moment on, we are at war.”

War
.

Our empire wasn't yet ready for this. Emperor Yizhu had always planned to fight back, but not for years. The
Yangguizi
still occupied our ports. Their steamships barricaded our harbors. I glanced at Chang-wei, who kept his expression impassive as he stared ahead.

“First we take back our cities from these filthy rebels,” Emperor Yizhu continued, his voice stronger than I'd ever heard it. As if he were addressing the entire empire rather a small, enclosed room of his closest advisors. “Then we drive out the barbarians. And we do not stop. We do not rest until all our enemies have been destroyed.”

* * *

I left the Forbidden City the same way I had come. Without fanfare, with Chang-wei at my side. Some people were not meant to be celebrated as heroes. Some people preferred it that way.

He reached out to help me into the carriage. My few belongings had been carefully packed into chests. I had found them that way when I'd returned to my room in the Court of Physicians. The linens had been stripped from the bed, the curtains removed.

I had asked for a reassignment, hadn't I? Sometimes petitions within the imperial palace took months to be fulfilled. Sometimes things happened quickly. I wasn't certain this was a good thing.

We sat side by side while the attendants loaded the transport. I held an imperial decree in my hands, folded and sealed with the Emperor's chop. It had been laid across my worktable in the apothecary. Chang-wei had a similar yellow notice laid across his lap. Also unopened.

“The Emperor wants war,” Chang-wei said, his tone somber.

I turned the decree around in my hands. The crisp edges pressed into my palm. “The Son of Heaven's will is our will.”

“We're not ready.”

When was one ever ready for war? “The Emperor seems to have come to his decision quickly,” I conceded. “But perhaps a show of strength is not a bad approach.”

“This is more than a show of force,” Chang-wei said, scowling. “And we have two enemies to fight. The foreigners and the rebel army.”

Three. Three enemies, I wanted to say. After what the imperial court had done to Chang-wei, I couldn't trust them anymore. I would continue to follow orders for the sake of unity, but there would be a time we would need to defy imperial command in order to preserve the empire. It was inevitable, and we needed to be prepared.

I leaned forward to slide the beads of the abacus control board to the coordinates for my mother's home. The carriage would go there first before returning to Chang-wei's residence.

As I sat back, the gears and rotors whirred to life, turning the wheels to propel us. The palace gates rolled by with the guardsmen standing aside.

Soon we were in the capital city. The Peking that most people knew of. Rickshaw drivers lounged at the corners, seeking out their next fare. Vendor carts packed the lanes, filling the air with the smell of hot grease and spices.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

He looked down at his yellow envelope. “That depends on what's in here.”

Tension knotted my shoulders. I hadn't dared to look at mine yet, and neither had Chang-wei. The two decrees could send us to opposite sides of the empire.

We had returned from Nagasaki to a court already in motion. In the bureaucracy of the imperial palace, everything moved at a snail's pace unless the Emperor asserted his divine right. Yizhu was all but claiming that Heaven wanted this war. Our ancestors wanted this war.

“Together?” I proposed.

Chang-wei held his notice up beside mine. “No matter what it says in here, I meant what I told you, Soling. When I think of the future, I see myself with you. Only with you. I don't know what will happen tomorrow or the next day, but we will be together. Some day.”

I nodded, my heart in my throat. I couldn't trust myself to say anything at the moment. I hoped what he saw in my eyes was enough.

We broke the seals in unison. For a moment, only the sound of tearing paper filled the carriage. I held my breath as I unfolded the decree.

For a full minute, I did nothing but stare at the contents, assuring myself that the same two characters appeared on both of our assignments. Chang-wei's fingers twined through mine as the carriage rolled on. His touch was warm.

There had been no time to talk about what was to become of us. We hadn't kissed again, either, but every glance and slightest brush had become in some way a kiss. That one precious moment between us, held on to and drawn out. Whatever happened in the days to come, I knew Chang-wei would be there.

It wasn't fate. It was fate that we would make happen.