Chapter 862 — The Petition

CHAPTER 862

The Petition

“Twelve signatures,” Old Tower Master Dai said, pouring tea. “Please, everyone, sit. The tea is from my own hill.”

The top room of the tower was round and bright, with windows on every side and the whole capital spread out below. Old Tower Master Dai sat at a low table in a plain grey robe. He was thin and very old, and his hands didn’t shake at all as he poured. Nobody who saw him would guess he was one of the continent’s 6 Marks.

Twelve capital alchemists sat in a half-circle facing him. Every one of them wore the 5 Mark badge on his chest.

Shi Feng sat to one side, with his own cup. Nobody had offered him a seat in the half-circle, and he hadn’t asked for one.

At the centre of the twelve sat Jia Lianshou, a tall, heavy man with a square grey beard whose voice carried across the room without effort. He set a rolled petition on the table with both hands.

“Tower Master,” Jia Lianshou said. “We come with respect, and with the register’s dignity in mind.”

“Naturally,” Old Tower Master Dai said. “Go on.”

“This young man has held the 4 Mark for less than one year,” Jia Lianshou said. “He stands at Shattering Void. Now he writes the 6 Mark on the same line as the 5, as if the register were a menu. A 6 Mark must stand at Profound Heaven. Every living holder does. The law of the furnace says so.”

“The law of the furnace,” Old Tower Master Dai repeated mildly.

“If the Pavilion lets this sitting stand,” Jia Lianshou said, “the register becomes a joke. We ask that the 6 Mark be struck from his line. Let him sit the 5, if he insists. Let him fail at the 5 first, as a young man ought to.”

The other eleven nodded together.

Shi Feng drank his tea. It really was good tea.

“Master Shi,” Old Tower Master Dai said, turning to him politely. “Would you like to answer?”

“Only one point, Tower Master,” Shi Feng said. “Master Jia says every living 6 Mark stands at Profound Heaven. That’s true. It describes the men who passed. It doesn’t say anything about the men who are allowed to try.”

Jia Lianshou’s beard trembled.

“Sophistry!” Jia Lianshou snapped. “Boy, a furnace for Profound Heaven pills has killed Soul Formation alchemists who were too proud to know their place. You’ll blow yourself up in the Glass Hall in front of the whole capital!”

“Then the whole capital will get a good look,” Shi Feng said. “And the Pavilion keeps my six million. Either way, nobody here loses anything.”

Two of the twelve exchanged looks. They hadn’t thought of it that way.

Old Tower Master Dai set his cup down. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“I apologise to all of you,” Old Tower Master Dai said. “You’ve come a long way up the stairs, and I’m going to disappoint you.”

He took the Candidate’s Handbook from the table beside him, though he didn’t open it. He knew it by heart.

“Any alchemist may test,” Old Tower Master Dai said. “Nobody may block. Not a 5 Mark. Not a 6 Mark. Not I.” He smiled gently at Jia Lianshou. “Old trees don’t move. The Pavilion has kept this law for eleven hundred years. The Pavilion does not refuse a candidate. The furnace does.”

The room was quiet.

Jia Lianshou opened his mouth, and closed it again.

One of the twelve began to ask about the Azure Sun’s objection, then stopped when Old Tower Master Dai turned toward him.

“The objection is entered in the register,” Old Tower Master Dai said. “As is this petition. Clerk.”

A clerk in black came forward from the wall, bowed, and took the rolled petition from the table. He unrolled it and began copying it into a thick book, one name at a time, reading each name aloud as he wrote.

“Jia Lianshou, 5 Mark. Hao Zhiping, 5 Mark. Wen Shubai, 5 Mark…” the clerk read, copying each name before continuing.

The colour slowly drained from twelve faces.

Shi Feng watched it happen with real interest. A petition that went nowhere was nothing. A petition entered in the register under twelve names was a different thing. If the candidate failed, it was a footnote. If the candidate passed, those twelve names would sit in the Pavilion’s records forever, on the page beside his, as the men who had tried to stop him.

The twelve had come to put his name on trial. Now their own names were on the record, and they couldn’t take them back.

“Tower Master,” Jia Lianshou said hoarsely. “That isn’t necessary.”

“It’s the law, Master Jia,” Old Tower Master Dai said kindly. “You asked me to respect it.”

Jia Lianshou’s face went from red to grey.

The clerk finished the twelfth name, sanded the page, bowed and withdrew. The petitioners rose, bowed stiffly, and filed down the stairs without another word. The last of them tripped on the top step and had to catch the rail.

Old Tower Master Dai refilled Shi Feng’s cup.

“You enjoyed that,” Old Tower Master Dai said.

“I enjoyed hearing the law read plainly, Tower Master,” Shi Feng said. “They can argue about whether I’ll pass. They can’t say I have no right to try.”

Old Tower Master Dai laughed briefly, then set aside the petition. His next words were serious.

“I’ll be honest with you, young man,” Old Tower Master Dai said. “The law gives you the right to test. It doesn’t give you a single herb. Clause sixty-one is older than clause forty-two, and it’s much less polite.”

“Own ingredients, or the pill goes to the hall,” Shi Feng said.

“Just so,” Old Tower Master Dai said. “Go home, Master Shi. Get your herbs tomorrow. Today, if you can.”

Shi Feng looked at him for a moment. Then he put down his cup, bowed, and left the tower at a walk that was faster than it looked.

Ji Yuanhe was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He held an empty basket in both hands, and his face was pale.

“Master Shi,” Ji Yuanhe said. “I went to the herb market first thing this morning, the way we planned.”

“And?” Shi Feng asked.

“There’s nothing left,” Ji Yuanhe said.