Chapter 442 — Plain Buns

CHAPTER 442

Plain Buns

The Pavilion guard lowered his halberd across the door and announced that only candidates could enter.

Shi Feng looked at the halberd. Behind it, the exam hall of the Qingyun City tower stretched away in white stone and blue tile. Six furnaces stood in a row under the high windows, each with its own stool and water jar. Above the furnaces hung a long banner: FIRST MARK EXAMINATION, GOLDEN CORE-GRADE.

“I'm not a candidate,” Shi Feng said.

The guard pointed at the threshold. That settled the matter; Shi Feng wasn't going past it.

“I know,” Shi Feng said. “I was just checking.”

Behind him, six young alchemists in Artificer Hall grey stood in a clump, as if they were waiting to be sold. Fan Dacheng, the biggest of them, was breathing through his mouth. Tao Shun's hands shook so hard that his sleeves rattled. Geng Xiaoyu kept checking her herb pouch, and Shen Pu was counting something under his breath. Yu Tie hadn't said a word since breakfast, and Ma Liang looked ready to apologise to the door.

“Senior Brother Shi,” Ma Liang whispered. “What if the pill is bad?”

“Then it's bad,” Shi Feng said. “Report what the pill is, not what you hoped.”

“Even if it's very bad?” Ma Liang asked, looking miserably toward the doors.

“Especially then,” Shi Feng said. “Go in.”

They filed past the halberd. Ma Liang bowed to it on the way.

Last through the door was the examiner. Jiao Rong was a lean man in a grey tower robe, with a crimson tassel on his brush that no Pavilion examiner needed. He stopped in front of Shi Feng and looked him over, from the boots to the Sword.

“The second name on the Register,” Jiao Rong said. “Come to hold their hands?”

“I brought them here,” Shi Feng replied. “I'll eat while they work.”

“A teacher inside can whisper instructions. You'll stay outside,” Jiao Rong said. He turned and raised his voice for the whole hall. “Six Foundation Establishment alchemists, from a sect that can't pay its own coal bill, sitting the Golden Core-grade exam. The Pavilion is generous. As the saying goes, real gold fears no fire. Begin when the bell sounds.”

The doors swung shut.

Shi Feng sat down on the tower steps and took out a paper packet.

“Two coppers,” Sima Lan said, standing beside him with her slate. “The cart on the corner. I've charged it to you.”

“You bought plain buns?” Shi Feng asked.

“They're very plain,” Sima Lan agreed. “That's why they're only two coppers.”

The steps were crowded. Servants of the other sects' candidates waited on them, and so did a great many curious people from Qingyun City, who had heard that the second name on the Register would be present. They had expected a pill. They got a man eating a bun. Several of them seemed to take it personally.

Zhu Liu stood at the door, in the one place the Pavilion allowed a candidate's runner. He held a water jar in each hand and kept his ear against the crack in the wood.

“Senior Brother Shi,” Zhu Liu said, not turning around. “The first bell's rung. They're lighting.”

“Report,” Shi Feng said.

“Fan Dacheng's fire is steady. Geng Xiaoyu is, um, talking to her furnace,” Zhu Liu reported.

“Let her talk,” Sima Lan said. “Better that than listening to every fool on these steps tell her she'll fail.”

“Tao Shun dropped a herb,” Zhu Liu blurted.

Shi Feng chewed.

“He picked it up,” Zhu Liu added quickly. “He didn't wash it. Is he supposed to wash it?”

“Not now,” Shi Feng said.

Gongsun Ce arrived, adjusting his sleeves and looking tragic. He sat down two steps below Shi Feng, put his book on his knees and glared at the door.

“Eleven hundred stones,” Gongsun Ce said. “I put eleven hundred stones into that pool at registration. On the strength of one sentence.”

“You didn't have to,” Shi Feng said.

“I opened it,” Gongsun Ce said. “A man who opens a pool has to put something in it. It's a point of honour.” He lowered his voice. “They are going to pass, aren't they?”

“I told you not one would fail,” Shi Feng said, untroubled by the purse.

“That is a prediction, not an answer about my eleven hundred stones,” Gongsun Ce protested.

“It's the same thing,” Shi Feng said, “if I'm right.”

“You look remarkably comfortable eating that,” Gongsun Ce said, eyeing the bun. “Is it wise before an exam?”

“I'm not sitting it,” Shi Feng said.

Ji Xuan leaned over the stair rail above them, a Martial Palace sash across his crimson jacket. He had clearly been waiting for a gap.

“Look at that,” Ji Xuan said to his friends. “The coach eats while the students burn. What's the Hall teaching them, how to lose slowly?”

“They'll pass the first stage,” another man said. “Everyone passes the first stage.”

“Then they'll blow up in the second.”

“Six at once. That would be a record.”

“Hmm,” Gongsun Ce said, with an enormous frown. Shi Feng handed him a bun, and he took it without thinking.

“Second bell,” Zhu Liu said at the door. His voice had gone thin. “Senior Brother Shi, two of them are shaking. Tao Shun's fire went up. And Yu Tie's gone red. He's gone really red.”

“Is the fire turning red?” Shi Feng asked.

“No, his face,” Zhu Liu replied. “His fire still looks normal.”

“Then he's nervous,” Shi Feng said. “Not wrong. Wait.”

Sima Lan's chalk scratched against her slate. She wrote a number and, beside it, a very small question mark.

For the length of one incense stick, nothing happened. Furnaces hummed. Somewhere inside, an examiner's brush scratched. The crowd on the steps got bored, and a few drifted away.

Then Zhu Liu's whole body went rigid against the door.

“Senior Brother Shi,” Zhu Liu said.

“Tell me what you can see,” Shi Feng said.

“It's the last stage. They're all closing the lids. Everyone's pill is, is, is settling,” Zhu Liu reported, his voice cracking. “And Ma Liang's furnace has a crack.”

Shi Feng stopped chewing.

“How big?” Shi Feng asked.

“I can't see it properly. It's by the lid,” Zhu Liu said, pressing his eye to the gap. “Senior Brother, it's getting bigger!”