Chapter 432 — Two Invitations

CHAPTER 432

Two Invitations

Warden Cheng arrived at the Salt Well Street stall in his white robe, carrying a flat box and looking reluctant to deliver it.

Shi Feng was weighing herbs. Sima Lan was counting the morning's copper. Zhu Liu stood behind the stool and held it, because that was his job now, and he took it seriously.

“Alchemist Shi,” Warden Cheng said. “I have official papers from the Duanyang Tower.”

“Do I owe something?” Shi Feng asked.

“No, no,” Warden Cheng assured him, setting the box on the table. Two cards lay inside, thick, cream-coloured, with the Sky Pavilion's gold border. “You've been invited.”

Sima Lan's coin stopped halfway down her slate.

“By whom?” Sima Lan asked.

“By the Sky Pavilion, Attendant,” Warden Cheng replied, holding up the first card. “The Grand Alchemy Assembly will be held at Qingyun City in three months. All Marked alchemists of the region are invited. The Assembly has a showcase for 2 Mark masters. Six seats. You hold one of them.”

“Six masters,” Zhu Liu whispered. “And Senior Brother Shi.”

“I'm the youngest by sixty years,” Shi Feng said.

“You are not the youngest by sixty,” Warden Cheng said. “You are the youngest by seventy-one. Clerk Du checked.”

“It's nice that someone counted,” Sima Lan said.

The warden took up the second card, and he held it more carefully, as if it were slightly warm.

“And this is for the Refiner 1 Mark exam,” Warden Cheng said.

Shi Feng put down his scale.

“I didn't apply,” Shi Feng said.

“No. The Pavilion invited you itself,” Warden Cheng explained, checking a folded paper inside the card. “Two reports reached the Tower in the past season. The first came from Jinsha Ferry, concerning sixty iron plaques, a backward Artificer Hall stamp and a Thousand Forge Flame Art in use. The second came from Qingtong Town, concerning a three-hundred-catty anvil of spirit iron which was reported as ‘cracked at the third beat of a grey ingot.’” He cleared his throat. “A senior refiner wrote in the margin, ‘Who is doing this, and may we please see him do it on purpose.’”

Sima Lan put her hand over her mouth.

She was trying desperately not to laugh. Zhu Liu had to look away before he joined her.

“It was an accident,” Shi Feng said.

“The Pavilion considers it promising,” Warden Cheng said.

“The anvil considered it unfortunate,” Zhu Liu said.

Warden Cheng sighed.

“There is, of course, the matter of fees,” Warden Cheng added, taking out a third paper. “Attendance at the 2 Mark showcase carries a fee of one thousand stones. The Refiner exam carries a further eight hundred. As the saying goes, without compass and square one cannot draw a circle or a square. These are not negotiable—”

A broom rapped the pavement behind him.

“Eighteen hundred,” Li Changyuan said.

He stood at the edge of the stall in his night sweeper's robe with the broom over his shoulder and a wilted cabbage in his other hand. A smear of ash crossed his forehead. He glanced at the fee paper with growing displeasure.

Warden Cheng turned.

“Honoured elder?” Warden Cheng said. “You are...?”

“The sweeper,” Li Changyuan said. “I clean up after eighteen hundred. Do you know what that costs a sect in brooms?”

“I'm afraid the fee is fixed—” Warden Cheng began.

“A showcase guest is a guest,” Li Changyuan said. “You don't charge a guest to come and eat your tea. If you invited him, then you want him. If you want him, then it's your showcase that needs the boy, not his that needs your hall.”

Warden Cheng opened his mouth, then hesitated. Li Changyuan was right: the Pavilion had asked Shi Feng to come.

“Still,” Warden Cheng said, “the fee covers the hall, the furnaces and the examiners' wages—”

“Your examiners,” Li Changyuan reminded him with a sniff. “The last examiner who looked at this boy was removed from the Tower, and Wen Lu removed him, and I'm told he didn't pay a penny for it. You owe us a furnace and a hand. Ask your clerk.”

Sima Lan leaned forward.

“Lot nine,” Sima Lan said. “A furnace, one. A hand, one. Both on the account of Examiner Tao Heng, personally. The Tower has not yet settled.”

“We do not,” Warden Cheng said, sweating, “hold Examiner Tao Heng's accounts.”

“Then settle your own,” Li Changyuan said.

The warden took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. A small crowd had stopped at the edge of the stall: two cloth sellers, an old woman with a duck, a bored porter. They all looked at the sweeper with the interest of people watching a street argument they would later describe in great detail.

“Five hundred,” Warden Cheng said, in a small voice.

“For both?” Li Changyuan asked.

“Five hundred each,” Warden Cheng said.

“Four hundred,” Li Changyuan said. “For both. And you buy us a pot of tea.”

“There is no tea in the fee schedule!” Warden Cheng cried.

“Then there's no fee,” Li Changyuan said.

Warden Cheng stared at the broom, then at the patched robe. Nobody in the street understood why a Pavilion warden was losing to a man with a cabbage. “Having eyes, and failing to see Mount Tai,” the old woman with the duck murmured.

“Four hundred,” Warden Cheng said faintly. “Both. And... tea.”

“Final,” Li Changyuan said.

He tucked the cabbage under his arm and walked away. Warden Cheng stood very still at the table with his papers.

“Alchemist Shi,” Warden Cheng said at last. “Is he always like that?”

“He's the sweeper,” Shi Feng said.

Zhu Liu was quietly writing a receipt.

“Senior Brother Shi,” Zhu Liu whispered, “the sweeper just saved us fourteen hundred stones.”

“He'll bill us for it,” Sima Lan said. “Twenty percent.”

“He won't let us forget who saved the money,” Shi Feng replied, watching Li Changyuan leave.

“No, he won't,” Sima Lan agreed, recording the sum before Li Changyuan could increase it.