Chapter 552 — Attendant, Not Chaperone

CHAPTER 552

Attendant, Not Chaperone

“That thing's a rock,” Ling Qingzhu said.

Shi Feng looked at his sleeve. The end of Lin Langtian's sweet potato stuck out of it, wrapped in oiled paper. It had been roasted weeks ago, in another kingdom, and it had been hardening ever since.

“It's for the road,” Shi Feng said.

“We're almost home,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Then the road isn't over,” Shi Feng said.

Ling Qingzhu opened her mouth, closed it, and turned to look over the rail. The edge of her white veil shook. Shi Feng decided not to ask why.

They had paid off Wan Hu and his grey horses at the capital's river dock, where the Hall's old patched boat was waiting. Now it clicked its way east above brown winter fields. The wooden fitting at the stern made the same sound it had made on the day he first boarded. An outer-court disciple stood at the steering array keeping his eyes firmly on it instead of his passengers.

Behind them, Sima Lan sat among the luggage with the ledger open on her knee. Something in her left sleeve scratched at the cloth.

“Fourteen items,” Sima Lan said, without looking up. “I counted twice. One of them smells of ginger.”

“The Ling kitchen sent it,” Shi Feng said.

“Then it's a gift, and gifts are entered at cost,” Sima Lan said, turning a page. “Ling Qingzhu, if you intend to ask him something, he's been pretending not to notice for an hour. Ask before he starts to believe it. As the saying goes, a chance lost will not come again.”

“I wasn't going to ask anything,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Your thumb says otherwise,” Sima Lan said.

Ling Qingzhu pulled her left hand into her sleeve.

By mid-morning, the grey wall of Luoxia City rose out of the fields.

It wasn't a big city. It paid tribute to Artificer Hall, and it had more canals than streets. From the air he saw a wall, a gate tower and a river crowded with flat boats. Red lanterns already hung along the tower's eaves, though it wasn't yet noon. In winter, Luoxia lit them every night, so the river merchants would stay one more evening and spend one more coin.

The array hummed lower. The boat began to settle.

The pilot called out Luoxia landing. They'd stop for charcoal until noon.

“Get off at Luoxia,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I said I'd consider it,” Shi Feng said. “The sect is a short flight from here.”

“In your mouth, ‘consider’ means yes,” Ling Qingzhu said. She turned from the rail. Her veil hid her mouth, but not the stubborn line of her eyes. “I'm asking for one day. In the city. We've spent a month in carriages and inns, and I haven't walked down one street with you without someone bowing, begging or sending an invoice.”

“I send invoices,” Sima Lan said from the bench.

“Present company excepted,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Present company is the one sending them,” Sima Lan said.

Ling Qingzhu ignored that. She was looking at Shi Feng, and she was breathing a little too evenly.

“You practised that speech,” Shi Feng said.

“I didn't,” Ling Qingzhu said at once.

“You answered fast,” Shi Feng said.

“Twice,” Ling Qingzhu said. “In the washroom. Don't repeat it.”

Shi Feng thought, She's been planning this since the capital. For three years every plan around him had involved a ledger, a furnace or an enemy. A plan that involved only a street was new.

Sima Lan closed the ledger.

She looked at Ling Qingzhu's sleeve, then at Shi Feng, then at the landing, where the wooden stairs ran down into a crowd of porters. Sima Lan was reluctant to leave them. She glanced at the luggage, then made up her mind.

“The luggage goes on to the sect,” Sima Lan said. “Fourteen items. I'll sign for them at the gate and enter the delay as personal leave.”

“Whose leave?” Shi Feng asked.

“Yours,” Sima Lan said. “Unpaid.”

“You could come,” Ling Qingzhu said. Her offer sounded sincere. “You're his attendant. It would be natural.”

“Attendant,” Sima Lan said. “Not chaperone.”

Ling Qingzhu's ears went pink. She looked quickly toward the river.

Sima Lan stood and shook out her sleeves.

Her sleeve twitched.

Old Soot pushed its soot-grey head out of the cuff, sniffed once, and looked toward the city. Frying oil, sesame and river shrimp drifted up from Luoxia's stalls. Its forelegs went over the edge of the cuff.

Sima Lan pushed it back down with one finger.

“Fuel stays with the luggage,” Sima Lan said.

Old Soot glared at Shi Feng from the cuff. It strained toward the smell of the stalls until Sima Lan closed her cuff.

“The sect gate closes at the third watch,” Sima Lan added, in the same flat voice. “The side door by the kiln yard won't be locked. That isn't a kindness. It's a standing item.”

“Understood,” Shi Feng said.

“It is not to be used before the third watch,” Sima Lan said. “It is for emergencies.”

She picked up the first bag, hesitated for exactly half a breath, and did not look back at either of them. The pilot hurried to take the rest.

“She's fond of you,” Ling Qingzhu said, watching Sima Lan go.

“She's fond of the contract,” Shi Feng said.

Ling Qingzhu didn't argue. Before the boat had settled all the way, she took a folded sheet from her sleeve. It was pale green paper, ruled in her careful hand, and the edge was creased as though she had folded and unfolded it many times.

“Before you agree,” Ling Qingzhu said, “read the terms.”

Shi Feng took it. The heading said TERMS OF THE DAY. Under it, the first line read:

The second party answers to “husband.” No question marks.