“Oh! I must apologize, Mr. Drake. I should have told you last night. It is Wednesday, and every Wednesday I go hunting. I would be honored by your company. And I think you would enjoy it.”
“Hunting…But the Erard…”
“Of course.” The Doctor slapped his hand on the table. “The Erard. I have not forgotten it. You have been traveling for weeks to repair the Erard, I know. Don’t worry, you will be tired of that piano soon enough.”
“No, it is not that. I just thought I should look at it at least. I am hardly a hunter. Why, I haven’t handled a gun since a hunt in Rangoon. A long and terrible story…And then on the way here—”
“On the way here, you were ambushed. Khin Myo told me. You were quite a hero.”
“A hero, hardly. I fainted, I almost killed the pony, and—”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Drake. It is rare that I even fire a gun when I go hunting. Perhaps I will shoot a boar or two, provided we have enough riders to carry them back. But that is hardly the purpose of the trip.”
Edgar felt weary. “I suppose then that I should ask what the purpose is.”
“Collection. Botanical mainly, although this often means medical as well…I send samples to the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. The amount there is to be learned is astounding. I have been here twelve years and haven’t even begun to exhaust the Shan pharmacopoeia. Regardless, you should come simply because it is beautiful, because you just arrived, because you are my guest, because it would be rude for me not to show you the wonders of your new home.”
My new home, thought Edgar, and there was another rustling in the branches across the river as a bird took flight. Carroll reached for his telescope and squinted into it. Finally he lowered it. “A crested kingfisher. Not rare, but still lovely. We will leave inside an hour. The Erard can survive one more day out of tune.”
Edgar smiled weakly. “Might I at least have a moment to shave? It has been days.”
The Doctor jumped to his feet. “Of course. But don’t worry about washing too carefully. We will be filthy within an hour.” He set his napkin on the table and spoke again to one of the boys, who ran off through the clearing. He motioned Edgar ahead. “After you,” he said, dropping the cheroot in the sand and grinding it with his boot.
When Edgar returned to his room, he found a small basin of water on the table with a razor, shaving cream, brush, and towel resting at its side. He splashed the water on his face. It briefly relieved him. He didn’t know what to think of Carroll, or of the postponement of his work to go look for flowers, and he found himself troubled by vaguer doubts. There was something disconcerting about the Doctor’s manner, about how to reconcile the legends of physician-soldier with the affable, even avuncular man who offered tea and toast and marmalade and became so excited about birds. Perhaps it is because this is all still so English, he thought, After all, a stroll, if that is what this is, is a proper way to greet a guest. Still, he was bothered, and he shaved gingerly, pulling the blade over his skin, and raising his palms to feel the smoothness of his cheeks.
They mounted a pair of Shan ponies that had been saddled in the clearing. Someone had tied little flowers in their hair.
Soon Nok Lek trotted up on another pony. Edgar was glad to see him again, and noticed that he carried himself differently than he had on the journey; the youthful confidence seemed more subdued around the Doctor, more deferential. He nodded to the two men, and Carroll motioned for the boy to lead. He nimbly turned his pony and bounded off.
They rode out of the clearing on a trail that paralleled the river. By the sun, Edgar reckoned they were heading southeast. They passed through a small grove of willows that stretched up from the riverbed. The foliage was thick and low and Edgar had to duck his head to keep from being knocked from the saddle. The path turned uphill and slowly rose above the willows, giving way to a drier brush. On the ridge that sheltered the camp, they stopped. Below, to the northeast, a wide valley stretched out, covered with small bamboo settlements. To the south, a small series of hills pushed up through the slope of the land, like the vertebrae of a disinterred skeleton. In the far distance, higher mountains were barely discernible for the glare of the sun.
“Siam,” said the Doctor, pointing to the mountains.
“I hadn’t realized we were so close.”
“About eighty miles. This is why the War Office is so worried about keeping the Shan States. The Siamese are our only buffer against the French, who already have troops near the Mekong.”
“And these settlements?”
“Shan and Burmese villages.”
“What are they growing?”
“Opium, mostly…although production here is nothing like it is to the north, in Kokang, or deeper into Wa country. They say that there are so many poppies in Kokang that all the bees fall into deep opium sleeps and never wake up. But the crop here is substantial enough…Now you understand another reason why we don’t want to lose the Shan States.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sardine tin. He put a cheroot in his mouth and offered the tin again to Edgar. “Changed your mind yet?”
Edgar shook his head. “But I read about the poppies. I thought it was forbidden by the Indian Opium Act. The reports say—”
“I know what the reports say.” He lit the cigar. “If you read closely, you would know that the Indian Opium Act of 1878 prohibited the growing of opium in Burma proper; at the time we did not control the Shan States. This doesn’t mean that there isn’t pressure to stop. There is much more fuss about it in England than here, which is probably why so many of…us, who write the reports, are selective in what we say.”
“That makes me worry about everything else I have read.”
“I wouldn’t. Most of what is written is true, although you will have to get used to the subtleties, to the differences between what you read in England and what you see here, especially anything to do with politics.”
“Well, I don’t know much, my wife follows these issues more than I do.” Edgar paused. “But I would be interested in what you have to say.”
“About politics, Mr. Drake?”
“Everyone in London seems to have an opinion on the future of the Empire. You must know much more than they do.”
The Doctor waved the cheroot. “I actually think little of politics, I find it rather, how should I say, impractical?”
“Impractical?”
“Take opium, for instance. Before the Sepoy Rebellion, when our holdings in Burma were administered by the East India Company, opium use was even encouraged—the trade was quite lucrative. But there has always been a call to prohibit or tax it, by those who object to its ‘corrupting influences.’ Last year, the Society for the Suppression of the Opium Trade requested that the viceroy ban the trade. Their request was rejected, quietly. This was no surprise; it is one of our largest cash crops in India. And banning it really does nothing. The merchants just start smuggling the drug by sea. The smugglers are actually rather clever. They put the opium in bags and tie them to blocks of salt. If the ships are searched, they merely drop the cargo into the water. After a certain time, the salt dissolves, and the package floats back to the surface.”
“You sound as if you approve of this.”
“Approve of what? Of opium? It is one of the best medicines that I have, an antidote for pain, diarrhea, coughing, perhaps the most common symptoms of the diseases I see here. Anyone who wishes to make policies on such subjects should come here first.”
“I never knew…” said Edgar. “What do you think then about self-government, it does seem to be the most pressing question…”
“Mr. Drake, please. It is a beautiful morning. Let’s not ruin it with talk of politics. I know that after such a journey, one would be interested in such matters, but I find it dreadfully dull. You will see—the longer you are here, the less such opinions matter.”
“But you wrote so much…”
“I wrote histories, Mr. Drake, not of politics.” The Doctor pointed the smoking end of his cheroot at Edgar. “It is not a welcome subject for me. If you have heard what some have to say about my work here, I think you can understand why.”