Chapter 264 — Lanterns on Credit

CHAPTER 264

Lanterns on Credit

“Three spirit stones each,” Sun Ba said firmly. “Guild price. Two hundred lanterns makes six hundred. I’ve brought the apprentices to unload them.”

Li Changyuan leaned on his broom and tilted one lantern toward the morning light. It was red paper over a bamboo frame, with a tiny array-flame sealed in the base that would burn for ten days.

“Cracked at the rim,” Li Changyuan said.

“That's the fold!” Sun Ba said.

“The rim’s cracked,” Li Changyuan insisted, putting it down. “Smoke gets out through a crack. Take a stone off.” He inspected the next lantern. “This one too. Did you drop the cart on your way here?”

The seller was a round man named Sun Ba, and he had come all the way from Duanyang City with two apprentices and a very good price. He now looked like a man who had sat on a wasp.

Shi Feng stood at the foot of the outer stair with Zhu Liu behind him. He had come down from hut nine. He had stopped because half the outer court was watching the old night sweeper bargain, and nobody was going to buy pills while that lasted.

“Don't help him,” Lin Langtian said.

He had appeared beside them with a sweet potato, as he always did. He kept his voice low and his chest high.

“I wasn't going to,” Shi Feng said.

“Lesson ten. Watch a master buy,” Lin Langtian said, pointing at the broom. “The seller defends his lanterns. Our old master attacks the lanterns, the price, and the man’s conscience. Look at the poor fellow’s face.”

“Who's the master? You or him?” Shi Feng asked.

“I'm the one who taught him,” Lin Langtian said.

“Our own furnaces could make these for four stones in materials,” Li Changyuan was telling the seller. “I'm doing you a kindness by buying. Two stones each. Pay after the Gathering.”

“After?” Sun Ba cried. “A merchant doesn't release the hawk until he sees the rabbit! On credit? For a sect with a coal debt?”

“Zhu Liu,” Shi Feng said.

Zhu Liu stepped forward and opened his receipt book to a clean page. He wrote slowly, in large characters, and turned the book around so that Sun Ba could read them: Artificer Hall owes Sun Ba four hundred stones, payable after the Gathering. Witness: Shi Feng, champion.

Sun Ba looked at the word champion. He looked at the old man's broom. Then he looked at the crowd of outer disciples, who had all just heard the amount.

“Four hundred,” Sun Ba said weakly. “And ten free for the cracks.”

“Twenty,” Li Changyuan said.

“Fifteen!” Sun Ba cried.

“Done,” Li Changyuan said, and swept the seller's dust toward the drain.

The crowd applauded. Shi Feng thought, That's the strongest sect master in the region, and he just saved two hundred stones with a broom.

He had to admit it was impressive.

A bell rang at the top of the stair, three quick strokes. Cui Hong came hurrying down with his arrival board under his arm.

“Martial Palace!” Cui Hong called. “An advance party, at the gate. They say they have a charter.”

The old man's broom stopped. He gave Shi Feng one long, mild look. Then he shuffled up the stair, still pushing a dead leaf in front of him.

The charter was real. Every host sect of the Three Sects Gathering had to lodge the guests' advance inspectors for three nights, so they could check the venue, the arrays and the hospitality before the main parties came.

There were nine of them, in grey robes with gold pillars at the cuffs. Their leader was a smiling man named Hao Wen, at late Foundation Establishment. A thin young clerk named Fu Zhi trailed him with a writing board and a nervous cough.

“Elder He Zhen,” Hao Wen said, bowing exactly as low as the charter required. “We're honoured. Where is our guest hall?”

He Zhen held his brush case in both hands. “The inner court is…”

“Rented,” Elder Qian Mo said from behind him, wincing.

“Rented?” Hao Wen said.

“To the Fan Coal House,” Qian Mo said. “Fifteen rooms. Three years, prepaid.”

Fu Zhi stopped coughing. Hao Wen’s smile widened with contempt. Outer disciples crowded the gate to listen. None of them needed the charter explained; their guests had been promised rooms filled with coal.

“A coal merchant,” Hao Wen said gently, “sleeps where the Gathering's guests should sleep.”

“Then you'll have our storehouse,” Li Changyuan said.

Li Changyuan had come up behind him with the broom. He bowed so deeply that his forehead nearly touched the paving stones.

“Our best storehouse, honoured guest,” Li Changyuan said. “Dry roof. Strong walls. Sixty years old. It once held our finest work. This old man weeps that we have nothing grander.”

“Old man?” Hao Wen said. “And you are?”

“Night sweeper,” Li Changyuan said. “For the mud.”

Hao Wen glanced at the broom and looked away. He turned to Shi Feng instead.

“The champion,” Hao Wen said. “I hear you keep a pill stall. Perhaps you'll show us hospitality too.”

“Artificer Hall will see that you want for nothing,” Shi Feng said.

“Excellent,” Hao Wen said. “A new official lights three fires on taking his post, as they say. We'll inspect everything.”

Behind the crowd, Gongsun Ce let out a small groan. He took a coin from his sleeve, looked at it with deep grief, and put it into Lin Langtian's palm without being asked.

“They accepted,” Gongsun Ce said. “Nobody accepts that.”

“You thought they’d refuse,” Lin Langtian said, pocketing the coin. “They want a bad room to report, Prince. You lost. One night of your strings, no questions.”

“Which night?” Gongsun Ce asked.

“All of them,” Lin Langtian said. “Bring the wax.”