The Apothecary Diaries Book 9

Chue

Maomao wrote industriously in the daily report: three cases of seasickness, two injuries, one person feeling unwell.

"Gracious, it's been busy," said the quack, whose idea of work was a quick exam and handing out some medicine. He wiped at some more or less nonexistent sweat on his forehead. For some reason, he seemed more energized than he had back at the rear palace.

He really did have too much time on his hands, Maomao thought.

They had been living on the ship for several days now. Some people still hadn't quite become accustomed to the constant rocking, but cases of seasickness were down overall. If the first day at sea had seemed quiet, by the second, the seasick travelers had come knocking at their door in droves.

"It certainly has," said Maomao. She was used to the medical office by the military camp, which frankly saw more action than this, but the quack was used to the rear palace office—which saw more tumbleweeds than patients—and it must have seemed like a madhouse to him.

They'd prepared plenty of seasickness medication ahead of time, but the stuff was only good for taking the edge off it; when it came to those who showed up pale-faced and queasy, Maomao figured that the best treatment was to give them a bucket and lead them to a well-ventilated area.

No wonder Lahan isn't here. She'd thought he might be, considering the freak strategist was coming—but that penny-pincher got the worst seasickness. He might actually be useful to have around on this trip, much as she hated to admit it, but he must have found some excuse to weasel out of it. Besides, he was—whatever she might think of him—next in line for the family headship, so he and the strategist probably shouldn't be away from home at the same time.

She'd been concerned that the strategist would somehow notice her and make his way over to her ship, but so far nothing had happened. He was probably down with seasickness.

"Now, then, how about a quick snack? If you'd be so kind, miss, go call our friend."

The moment there were no more patients in the office, the quack began making tea. Use of fire was heavily restricted, however, so he couldn't boil water. It had to be served cold.

There were three cups—and three snacks. Snack food was at a premium on the ships; this was the one the quack had received when he went to examine Jinshi. In fact, each time since then, snacks had been available upon his visit, and each time he was sent home with a few as souvenirs.

I guess he wants to reinvigorate himself. Maomao sighed and opened the medical office door.

"What's the matter, young lady?" Standing in the hallway was a man at least two heads taller than Maomao—Lihaku. He had been assigned as their bodyguard, and at the moment he held a large weight in each hand. He was just standing around most of the time, so he seemed to have decided to take the opportunity to work out.

"It's snack time, sir."

"Thanks! That's great news." He put down the weights and came into the office, although his presence there made it significantly more cramped.

"You don't mind sweets, do you, my dear Lihaku?" asked the quack.

"I'll eat anything!" Lihaku said.

"Good, good. Do you take sugar in your tea?"

"What? Does anyone do that?"

"I hear it's the way in the south."

"Very interesting! Plenty of sugar, please!"

Lihaku was so taken by the question of how this drink would taste that he was about to put a generous portion of the ship's precious supply of sugar into his tea. Maomao snatched it away. "I'm afraid I can't let you. Sugar is extremely valuable."