Chapter 1002 — A Quiet Ledger

CHAPTER 1002

A Quiet Ledger

“Seventeen million, seven hundred and thirty thousand,” Shi Feng said, and wrote it down.

The Sky Pavilion tower in Beiling City had seven floors, and the guest elder’s room was on the sixth. It had a brazier, a window on the north wall and a desk wide enough to spread a whole ledger across. Through the window, past the city’s grey walls, the wilds ran white to the edge of the sky. Somewhere out there, eleven days past the last beacon, the Yelü fort was digging Frost-Vein Ginseng under the Yelü seal again.

He’d delivered the order with his own hands. The fort master had wept.

“Cash,” Shi Feng went on, running his brush down the page. “Herbs, about one million eight hundred and fifty thousand. The princess’s vault, five million one hundred and eighty thousand, untouched. The Yelü, one standing order at house price.”

Qin Wuyan stood at the door with his hands in his sleeves, as he always did.

“Senior Qin,” Shi Feng said without looking up. “Do you want to know how rich you’re guarding?”

“No,” Qin Wuyan said.

“Then I’ll finish before we eat,” Shi Feng said, smiling faintly. “You don’t have to stand through the whole count.”

Qin Wuyan said nothing at all.

Beiling sat on the edge of the northern wilds, below the Serene Jade Sect’s outer lands, a city of thick walls and low roofs built to keep the wind out. It was a fur town and a herb town. Hunters came down out of the wilds to sell pelts, and alchemists' agents came up from the south to buy roots. The Pavilion’s tower was the tallest building in it, and on the day Shi Feng arrived, the whole tower staff had lined up in the courtyard to bow.

He’d been there five days. In five days, nobody had tried to kill him. He found it suspicious.

A knock came at the door. Tower steward Qian Ze came in with a letter on a tray, a careful, round-shouldered man of fifty with the Pavilion’s grey cord tied very neatly round his sleeve.

“Guest Elder,” Qian Ze said, bowing. “From Tianjing. By the Long household’s array, so it arrived this morning.”

The letter was one sheet, folded twice, sealed in black wax. Shi Feng opened it.

It was written in a small, straight hand that didn’t waste ink. The Censorate had filed the last page of the Shuoyang finding. The Hall of Clear Rule had entered it. Censor Situ Kerang had reached his frontier post and written to complain about the cold. The furnace account in her vault was untouched. There was nothing else, no greeting and no good wishes, until the very last line.

Ji Yuanhe counted to nine hundred today and laughed.

Shi Feng read the last line three times.

Nine hundred. In the Pill Pit, Ji Yuanhe had counted to keep his soul together. He hadn’t laughed then. Shi Feng felt relieved and happy for him. Long Caili knew he’d want to hear this, even though it concerned neither the finding nor the furnace account.

He folded the letter and put it inside his robe, next to the grey sash.

“Is there a reply, Guest Elder?” Qian Ze asked.

“Tell Her Highness the letter arrived,” Shi Feng said. “And that I’d like to know what he does at a thousand.”

“Yes, Guest Elder,” Qian Ze said. He didn’t leave. He stood there with the empty tray and a very polite face, and Shi Feng put his brush down.

“There’s something else,” Shi Feng said.

“There is, Guest Elder,” Qian Ze said. “This lowly steward wasn’t sure whether to trouble you with it. A ferry village on the Inkwater burned last night. Inkwater Ferry, thirty li west of the city. The survivors came in at dawn, about forty of them. The county office has already written it down as bandits.”

“How many lived there?” Shi Feng asked.

“About ninety, Guest Elder,” Qian Ze said.

Shi Feng was quiet. Qin Wuyan, at the door, turned his head.

“What do the survivors say?” Shi Feng asked.

Qian Ze hesitated. He was a careful man, and he didn’t like repeating things he couldn’t understand.

“They all say the same thing, Guest Elder,” Qian Ze said, turning the tray in his hands. “They say there was no fire at first. There was a man standing on the ferry post. And then the bandits opened the sky.”

Shi Feng stood up from the desk.

“Where are the forty now?” Shi Feng asked.

“In the county granary by the west gate, Guest Elder,” Qian Ze said. “The county office gave them a roof and one meal. It says it can’t afford a second. A clever housewife can’t cook without rice, it says.”

“Send the tower’s kitchen to the granary,” Shi Feng said. “Rice, salt, and the good charcoal. Put it on my account, not the tower’s.”

“Yes, Guest Elder,” Qian Ze said, bowing, and this time he left quickly.

Shi Feng took the grey Sword down from the rack and tied his sleeves. He’d left the sling at the Yelü fort. His left arm still ached from Black Mirror Lake, but it moved.

At the door, Qin Wuyan had already stepped aside to let him through.

“Thirty li,” Qin Wuyan said.

“He’s waiting for us,” Shi Feng said, angry now. “He’s left survivors to tell us where he is. I want to know what happened to the others.”