Chapter 953 — Writ at the Gate

CHAPTER 953

Writ at the Gate

“A guest under the old courtesy,” Gate Elder Qiu Moshan said, “is not handed over by any gate of the Serene Jade. This old man regrets it very much.”

He didn’t sound as if he regretted it at all. He stood under the arch of the Lotus Gate with his hands folded in his sleeves, and he bowed exactly as deeply as the rites asked for an officer of the Censorate, and not a hair deeper.

Inspector Ruan Heng bowed back just as exactly.

He looked the same as he had in Frost Pass City: a lean, tidy man in the dark blue of the Censorate, with ink on the middle finger of his right hand and a writ case under his arm. Two clerks stood behind him in the snow at the foot of the steps. None of them had set foot past the gate.

“This inspector doesn’t ask for the guest to be handed over, Gate Elder,” Ruan Heng said patiently. “Only for his account. The writ is supplementary. It concerns the four days between Grey Goose Pass and the west canal.”

“Then the inspector may leave the writ, and the guest may read it at his leisure,” Qiu Moshan said. “A gate that opens for one writ has to open for every writ after it. The rules of this gate are older than this old man, and older than the Censorate.”

“With respect, Gate Elder, the Censorate is quite old,” Ruan Heng said.

“With respect, Inspector, so is the gate,” Qiu Moshan said.

The petitioners on the steps had stopped pretending not to listen.

“The Empire’s inspector, at the Lotus Gate!”

“For the 6 Mark? What did he do?”

“They say a commander died in the capital. They say it was him.”

“Fool. If it was him, would the Gate Elder be standing there like that?”

Shi Feng came down the inner steps with a steward behind him, pulling on the black sable coat as he walked. The steward had found him in the Frost Furnace Hall’s herb store, watching Elder Kong count roots. He came at once. A second writ could affect Long Caili as well as him; he needed to hear what the inspector wanted.

“Inspector Ruan,” Shi Feng said, and bowed. “You’ve come a long way north again.”

“Master Shi.” Ruan Heng bowed back. “Your back is better, I hope. This inspector heard in Lianxia that there were bandits.”

“There were bandits,” Shi Feng said. “Gate Elder, thank you. I’ll settle this myself, if the gate allows. I don’t want the sect to argue with the Empire on my account.”

Qiu Moshan looked at him, then nodded once and stepped aside, though he didn’t leave.

Shi Feng took a flat packet out of his sleeve. It was wrapped in Pavilion grey and sealed with the Frost Pass tower’s seal: a copy of the deposition the Pavilion scribe had made in the tower hall. On top of it, tied with the same cord, was one more page. He’d written it the night before, in his own hand, as soon as the steward had told him a Censorate rider had been seen on the Lianxia road.

He held both out to Ruan Heng.

“The deposition you took at Frost Pass,” Shi Feng said. “Sealed, the way you saw it sealed. And one page on the four days. You’ll find it’s short.”

Ruan Heng untied the cord and read the page there in the snow. Shi Feng knew what it said.

Day one: Grey Goose Pass, on a salt sack by the cook fire, with a fever. Eleven wagons of drivers. Lao Qi sewed the wound three times. It didn’t hold.

Day two: the north switchbacks with the salt train. A tea merchant and two monks on the road.

Day three: the last waystation before the plain. The stable boy refused Master Hao’s copper.

Day four: Hanli Town. The scholar bought my tea.

Same questions. Same answers.

Ruan Heng read it twice.

“This is correct in form,” Ruan Heng said, and tied the cord again. “It will save us both a second deposition. A man with a clean conscience isn’t afraid of a knock at midnight, Master Shi. The court will see it so.”

He took a stick of blue wax from his case, lit it from a clerk’s lamp and sealed the packet in front of everyone, with the Censorate’s mark over the Pavilion’s. Then, as he pressed the seal down, he spoke without looking up, in the same patient voice.

“For completeness,” Ruan Heng said, “this inspector should tell you that the Censorate has sent men to the Grey Goose waystation. To look for new witnesses.”

Shi Feng was quiet.

“New witnesses,” Shi Feng said.

“For completeness,” Ruan Heng repeated. He put the packet in his writ case and closed it. “This inspector didn’t send them. He only reports that they were sent.”

He bowed to the Gate Elder, bowed to Shi Feng, and went down the steps to his clerks.

Shi Feng’s good mood went out of him all at once.

The waystation at Grey Goose had a stable boy, an innkeeper and nobody else. There were no new witnesses there to find. There were only old ones who could be told what to remember, and the only witnesses who had really been there were eleven wagons of salt drivers. They had trades, families and a road they had to travel every month. If the Censorate’s new men found a “witness” at the waystation, the next step would be to ask why the drivers’ story was different.

He turned and went straight back up the inner steps.

“Honoured guest?” the steward called after him. “The herb store? Elder Kong’s still counting!”

“I need to send a warning south,” Shi Feng said without stopping. “Tell Elder Kong I’ll return when it’s written.”

In Snowpine Court he took a sheet of paper and wrote standing up, on the corner of the table.

Received: a supplementary writ. Answered at the gate. No second deposition.

Notice: the Censorate has sent men to the Grey Goose waystation for new witnesses.

Witnesses: Master Hao Dafu’s drivers. Eleven wagons. Already under Your Highness’s salt contract. They’re the only honest witnesses I have.

Request: keep them where they can be found by honest men only.

Account: still open.

He sealed it with his thumb and gave it to the steward to run down the white stair to Kang Yi.

By noon it had left Lianxia in a Pavilion courier’s satchel, riding south for the salt road.