Chapter 870 — Her Seat

CHAPTER 870

Her Seat

“Your Highness,” the Vice Minister of Rites said, lifting his wine cup. “May I ask a small question?”

The long hall on the pavilion’s fourth floor held twenty guests at one table of black lacquer. Lanterns hung over every seat. There were ministers from three ministries, two generals’ sons from the Gu, there to watch for the Fifth Prince, Elder Jiang Bozhou of the Jiang family, and a scattering of rich men from the markets who had chosen the princess’s side and wanted everyone to see it.

Long Caili sat at the head in deep red, with her hair up in a single jade pin and a veil of pale gauze from brow to chin. She didn’t lift her cup.

“Ask,” Long Caili said.

The Vice Minister was a plump man with a thin moustache and a Situ family ring on his thumb. Everyone at the table knew the Situ ran the ministries. Everyone also knew this man had come tonight to listen, and to carry what he heard back to someone else.

“The capital is saying that Your Highness has staked her name on a commoner’s furnace,” the Vice Minister said pleasantly. “A young man with no sect, sitting a Profound Heaven Mark at Shattering Void. If the furnace bursts, the capital will laugh at the furnace. But it will also ask who lit it.”

The table grew quiet. A few guests suddenly became very interested in their food.

At the far end, Shi Feng sat in a long-sleeved robe that covered his bandages, eating braised duck. He’d been seated below the market men and above nobody. He didn’t mind. The duck was excellent.

“One misstep becomes an eternal regret,” the Vice Minister added, smiling. “Your Highness is young. The court remembers things.”

Long Caili set down her chopsticks.

“My guest sits under Pavilion law,” Long Caili said coldly. “Not mine. He declared his own line. He paid his own fees. He fought his way up steps the Pavilion doesn’t own, and signed with his own blood.”

“Even so—” the Vice Minister began.

“If he fails,” Long Caili went on, as if the Vice Minister hadn’t spoken, “it’s his fee and my lesson. I’ve paid for lessons before. I’m still sitting here.”

The Vice Minister’s smile stayed where it was, but his eyes moved.

“And if he passes, Highness?” the Vice Minister asked.

“Then it’s his Mark,” Long Caili said. “And you’ll write to whoever sent you that the princess’s guest is a 6 Mark. Make sure you spell it correctly.”

Elder Jiang Bozhou coughed into his sleeve. It sounded a lot like a laugh.

The Vice Minister bowed in his seat.

“Your Highness is very clear,” the Vice Minister said.

“I usually am,” Long Caili said, and picked up her chopsticks again.

The talk at the table came back slowly, and turned to grain prices and the Gu family’s new border posts. Nobody mentioned the furnace again. But more than one guest looked down the table at Shi Feng when they thought he wasn’t watching.

One of the Gu sons leaned over to him.

“Young Master Shi,” the Gu son said in a low voice. “What do you say? Can you pass it?”

“This Shi is only a guest tonight,” Shi Feng said. “At the sitting I’ll make what’s asked. You’ll be able to judge it yourself instead of taking a promise over dinner.”

The Gu son laughed and went back to his wine.

Elder Jiang Bozhou caught Shi Feng’s eye across the table and raised his cup slightly. Shi Feng raised his in return. The Jiang had given the princess their backing after the array court, and the Jiang were tied to the Pavilion. They knew better than anyone what the Glass Hall did to people.

When the plates were cleared, Long Caili rose. Every guest stood at once.

“Thank you for coming,” Long Caili said. “My word to each of you stands.”

Then she left the hall without looking at anyone. As she passed the end of the table, she didn’t look at Shi Feng either.

Shen Yaoqing was waiting on the balcony outside.

She stood alone at the rail in Serene Jade white, looking down at the lanterns on the avenue. The night wind moved her sleeves. She didn’t turn around when he came out, but she spoke as soon as he was close enough to hear.

“She defended you,” Shen Yaoqing said.

“They came to blame her for my sitting,” Shi Feng said. “She made them say it openly.”

“That’s what she’d say,” Shen Yaoqing replied, turning her head. Her face was cold and very calm. “I’d like to ask you something, and I’d like a direct answer.”

“Ask,” Shi Feng said, waiting beside the rail.

“A 6 Mark pill holds a sky,” Shen Yaoqing said. “Every alchemist in the Empire knows that. My master’s pill stood at the edge of the 6, and you held it in a fold of space round the cauldron. I was at the door. I felt it.”

“You did,” Shi Feng said.

“A fold isn’t a sky,” Shen Yaoqing said. “Do you truly think you can fold a sky into a pill?”

Shi Feng leaned on the rail beside her and looked down at the avenue for a while. A night market was setting up below, and someone was frying sesame cakes.

“I’ll know on the third day,” Shi Feng said.

Shen Yaoqing waited, as if she expected more. There wasn’t any more.

“That isn’t an answer,” Shen Yaoqing said.

“It’s the only honest one I have,” Shi Feng said. “If I told you yes, you’d know I was guessing. If I told you no, I’d be lying to you. You’d catch either one.”

Shen Yaoqing said nothing.

He bowed to her and went back inside. At the top of the stairs he glanced back once. She was still standing at the rail, but she wasn’t looking at the avenue any more. She was looking at the door he’d come through, with a small frown.

The next morning, the Pavilion pasted a notice on the board beside its steps.

By the time Shi Feng got there, the crowd in front of it was so thick that he couldn’t see the paper at all. He could only hear people reading it aloud to each other, and every one of them sounded as if they’d been struck by lightning.