With the heart of an Atwood tale and the visuals of a classic Asian period drama The Empress of Salt and Fortune is a tightly and lushly written narrative about empire, storytelling, and the anger of women.
The Empress of Salt and Fortune is an intricate, elegant set of tales, nesting the tale of an empress inside the tale of a servant-girl inside the tale of a cleric-historian. It’s a novella with the scope and depth of a series, both in terms of its emotional impact and its descriptive power, and it left me breathless. Nghi Vo was kind enough to answer some of our lingering questions about this vibrant world and all the complex characters she created.
Where did this story idea come from?
It started out as something a bit simpler and honestly a bit sadder. I heard about Tor’s call for submissions, and Chih came trotting along, a historian cleric who was good at their job and honestly a little bad at actually being a cleric. At first it was Chih alone, and then when they needed someone to talk to, Almost Brilliant showed up. They were just going to be investigating the house on Lake Scarlet, but then I realized, no, that’s terrible, and the story formed into the shape that it did.
The story is told with reference to objects as touchstones of memory. Did the objects come first, or did the story dictate what they would be?
The story came first, but my favorite part of writing Empress was looking down and around at all the things that touched the characters. A lot of times, I felt as if I were staring through a dark glass, trying to see In-yo so I could talk about her, and though I from where I was standing so to speak, I couldn’t see her thoughts and her feelings, I could look at a piece of gold she held or a gaming tile and imagine what she must have thought about it.
Some of the objects are of great monetary value, but others are humble, and it’s the humble things, the overlooked things, that topple an empire. Why was it important for you to tell this story rather than a story of wealth and warriors?
I would have made a very very bad historian, I think. I’m too inclined to make things up, too inclined towards the fantastic over the factual. Even I know, though, that one way you learn about people is through the mundane things they touch and that they let touch them. People are careless about the mundane, and careless, perhaps, is another word for honest. Certainly, it was the mundane nature of things like games and horoscopes that brought down the Su Dynasty (though, of course, royal mammoths didn’t hurt).
Women are treated as just another type of object–Rabbit is quite literally considered equal to five baskets of dye. How do you see the intersection of gender disparity and colonialism, and where do you locate points of resistance?
One point that I make over and over again in this story is that nothing is ever just an object. Just like a cup can hold water, it can hold poison, and just like salt is a delicious condiment, it can also be a signal to revolt. When I volunteer, when I do the work, what I notice are the women, cis, nb, trans, of all races and ages and sizes. We’re here, we’ve always been here, and sometimes, we should be reminded that even (or maybe especially) overlooked things can cut.
The empress feigns an obsession with fortune-telling but very distinctly sets about making her own fate. Yet that is a journey hedged by the expectations and needs of her people. Where do you see the lines between fate, duty, and self-determination?
For In-yo, all there is is what needs to be done. I don’t think she actually troubles herself much with the plans her gods or the gods of others have in store for her. Since she was very young, her life has been shaped by the domination of the south, and her calling, given to her by her people, her mother, and her own experience, is to make it stop. I imagine her saying if asked, that if the gods want her to do a thing, they can make a petition like anyone else.
History, and specifically the history of her own and her people’s oppression, is one of In-yo’s primary motivations, yet history is exactly what she then turns around and conceals. Is this meant to force a fresh start for the empire? Is In-yo implying her solidarity with the other “silenced and nameless women”? Or do you see this as a selfish means of shoring up power?
In-yo knows how impressive the mammoths are, and how powerful her people are, but she’s too smart to keep Anh in constant winter. That means she needs to be careful, both for herself and the ones who come after her. It’s a political move, it’s covering her tracks, and it’s also personal. Lake Scarlet was the scene of her banishment and one of the most frustrating points of her life, and I doubt she wants to think much of that. In-yo is absolutely selfish, because if you can’t say “my way, my country, my right to rule, my sovereignty” you don’t get to be empress for very long.
In-yo says that the war is “won by silenced and nameless women.” But Chih and Almost Brilliant make it their life’s work to hear stories and remember names. Do you think history can eventually be written by the people, instead of the victors?
I hope so. Be very clear, Chih, Almost Brilliant, and Singing Hills know how to play the waiting game. It’s hinted in a few places that the Singing Hills abbey has gone through a lot of political turmoil in its past. Their work is absolutely not always welcomed, and they’ve taken pains to preserve what they have learned and to work towards always, always learning more. I think that’s what we can hope for with regards to history, that we’re doing the best we can and that we’re always on the lookout for those who… well, want to throw burning pitch at what we’ve accomplished.
Mammoths, hoopoe, and of course, Rabbit–the animals are far from your standard fantasy creatures. Was there a particular reason for choosing any of these animals?
Mammoths Are Cool. This is about where I went with that, and once the mammoth showed up, they were here to stay. I mean, no one alive has tried moving one that has planted its feet, but I’m sure not going to do it.
Almost Brilliant for some reason had to be a hoopoe. I’m not entirely sure why unless I was inspired by The Conference of Birds, by Farid ud-Din Attar? That probably follows.
Rabbit I got through imagining a little girl sitting among tubs of dye, hiding her mouth with one hand and scowling tremendously. I pictured her, said, “oh, heya, Rabbit, sorry about what’s going to happen,” and went from there.
In-yo sacrifices much, and also asks others to sacrifice everything. Do you think this is the nature of power, or just to the nature of monarchy/empire?
It’s absolutely the nature of empire at the least, and In-yo knows that. She’s not looking towards a time when she can give back in this novella. At this point in time, she’ looking at taking back what should be hers and then some. If she wants to survive, let alone thrive, that’s what she needs to do, and she has to do it with the tools that she has. It’s not much, especially at first, and she uses her tools mercilessly, something even her nearest and dearest would confirm. I know her reign is marked by peace and prosperity, and that she does well by her adopted people. I also don’t think that that changes the basic nature of who she is, and if you asked her if she would do it all again, she wouldn’t even understand a world where she didn’t.
Reading this sometimes felt like glimpsing a museum through a keyhole: there always seemed to be more to learn and see. Do you plan to set any other stories in this world? (Please say yes!)
Look… look. At some point, someday, Chih’s going to do a ride-along with a mammoth scout and listen to a story about a tiger’s wedding. That’s a THING.
Fascinating book, leaves a lot of questions. Bears re-reading several times