The Tyrant's Sickly Consort Refuses to Die novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: Morning Greeting
At the Empress Dowager's palace Su Ming meets the smiling Noble Consort and is ordered to serve the Emperor's nightly tonic, while his maid spots the northern army's grain sacks in the kitchen yard and he recognizes a smell from his childhood.
Su Ming left the bed an hour after the sun came up, one inch at a time.
He slid a folded quilt under the Emperor's head, and the Emperor did not stir.
Gao Shun stood at the door with his hands pressed together.
"The Dowager has summoned the new consort to Ci'an Palace," he whispered. "Every new consort must go."
"If you are late she will say His Majesty's household has no manners."
"I'll be quick," said Su Ming.
"Bring him back a sweet bun," said Gao Shun, and then looked horrified at himself. "No. Forgive me. Go."
In the corridor, his maid Qiu Ye fell on him.
She was nineteen, small and round-faced, and she had been held at the outer gate all night with a bundle on her back.
"You're alive," she said, and burst into loud tears, and then wiped them on her sleeve.
"I didn't hear a drum or a wail. I was sure."
"I'm alive and hungry," said Su Ming. "Walk with me, and cry quietly."
Ci'an Palace was on the east side, behind a red wall and a courtyard full of chrysanthemums in pots.
He was told to wait in the kitchen yard while the Dowager finished her morning meal.
Qiu Ye stood beside him, looking at the stacks along the wall.
There were thirty or forty grain sacks in the shade, piled to the height of a man.
Each had a red mark stamped on the cloth.
She stared at them with her mouth open.
"Those are the northern army's sacks," she said, very low.
"How do you know?"
"My brother is a soldier in Yunzhou," she said. "His pay comes in sacks like these, with the red seal."
"He wrote that they have been eating gruel since spring." She swallowed. "Why is the army's rice in the Dowager's yard?"
"Maybe she feeds her servants well," said Su Ming.
But he looked at the seal for a long moment, so that he would remember its shape.
A page came to lead them in.
The Dowager's hall smelled of sandalwood and clean linen.
Dowager Ji sat on a carved couch in a plum-colored robe, with a bowl of congee on a little table at her elbow.
She was fifty-five, handsome, and gentle in the eyes.
She had been the old Emperor's second wife, and she had raised the young Emperor from the age of ten.
"Come, child," she said. "Sit by me. Let me see what the Prime Minister's house sent us."
Su Ming knelt and touched his forehead to the floor.
At her side stood a young man in a sky-blue robe with gold at the collar, so beautiful that the room seemed arranged around him.
The Noble Consort was the Prime Minister's son, and twenty-six.
He smiled with his whole face.
"Consort Su," he said, in a warm, sweet voice. "You look so well. After the welcome cup, one hears people are often a little tired."
The Dowager's eyes flicked toward him, once.
Su Ming kept his own face mild.
He had been told by a stranger's tone what the stranger had expected, and the information was worth more than the greeting.
"This one is grateful for the Noble Consort's concern," he said. "This one's constitution is poor, but it has always been stubborn."
"I'm so glad," said the Noble Consort.
His left sleeve hung heavy with something square, and behind him a young attendant stood with a lacquer tray held very straight.
Su Ming noted both.
"Now," said the Dowager. "You have not slept, and you must be quick. I will say what I want."
She folded her hands.
"His Majesty is ill. You have seen it. He cannot sleep, and a tired man is a cruel man."
"The Imperial Physician has a decoction made for him, to bring rest. It is brought every night at dusk."
"This one has heard of it," said Su Ming.
"Gao Shun is old and clumsy. Last month he spilled half a bowl."
"From tonight, the tonic will come to your hands, and you will see that His Majesty drinks every drop."
"This one is only a fifth-rank talent," said Su Ming carefully.
"You are the only one he allowed to stay the night," said the Dowager, with a smile that did not change.
"That makes you the only one I can trust with this."
A maid brought a covered bowl on a tray.
"The physician sent a sample, so you will know its color," the Dowager said.
The lid was lifted.
Steam rose in a thin white thread, and Su Ming leaned forward as a person does who wants to be polite.
It smelled of licorice and warm honey and a little poppy.
Under that, very faint, there was a third smell.
It was low and green and slightly musty. It was the smell of a cellar.
He knew it.
He had met it once, when he was eight, in a small room in Qingyang County with the shutters closed.
His old nurse had put a single dried shred under his nose and said, "This one I will name only once."
"You will never touch it, and you will never forget it."
She had told him what it did to a man who drank it for a year.
She had not wanted to say what it did over nine.
"Is something wrong?" said the Dowager gently.
"No, Empress Dowager," said Su Ming, and sat back, and bowed. "This one only thinks it smells very rich."
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