Chapter 978 — The Petition and the Long Seat

CHAPTER 978

The Petition and the Long Seat

The Linghu came into the circuit court in white.

There were twelve of them, in robes of undyed hemp. The man at the front was past sixty, straight-backed, with a grey beard cut square. He didn’t look at anyone until he reached the commission’s table.

Situ Mingzhao rose to receive him. The commissioner was a slight, neat man in Censorate black, and he bowed exactly as deep as an elder of a grieving clan deserved.

“Linghu Zhongshu, elder of the Linghu clan of Tianjing,” Linghu Zhongshu said, and held out the petition. “This old man petitions under the old law of the Founding Code. A blood duel of the same generation. The Linghu name Linghu Que, younger brother of the dead, to meet the accused.”

A young man stepped up beside him. He was in his early twenties, lean and dark, with his brother’s thin face and none of his brother’s calm. His eyes went straight to the guest bench and stayed there.

Shi Feng sat on that bench with Yan Lianbi beside him. Qin Wuyan stood behind them both.

Situ Mingzhao unrolled the petition and read it through. Then he sighed, very politely.

“This commissioner regrets to say that the old law allows it,” Situ Mingzhao said, setting the petition down. “The clause was never struck from the Code. A grieving clan may ask, and the accused may answer. If he refuses, the refusal is entered in the record.”

“Entered as fear,” Linghu Zhongshu said coldly.

“As refusal, Elder Linghu,” Situ Mingzhao corrected him gently. “The court may read it as it pleases.”

Angry whispers broke out in the gallery. The commissioner wouldn’t call a refusal cowardice himself. He’d let everyone listening do that for him.

Shi Feng understood the trap. Refusing would disgrace Long Caili’s guest before the north. Killing Linghu Que would deepen the clan’s hatred and give the commission another death to use against him. He’d have to win without killing.

“I accept,” Shi Feng said, and stood. “On one condition.”

“Name it,” Linghu Zhongshu said.

“The Lantern Guard sent your nephew’s effects home to the clan,” Shi Feng said. “His leave papers will be among them. If I win, the clan hands those papers to this commission.”

Linghu Zhongshu frowned. Behind the commission table, Pang Yue looked up for the first time that morning.

“What use are a dead man’s leave papers to you?” Linghu Zhongshu asked.

“None at all, Elder Linghu, if he was on proper leave,” Shi Feng said.

The old man’s jaw set. Then he flicked his white sleeve.

“The Linghu have nothing to hide,” Linghu Zhongshu said. “Write it.”

Yan Lianbi had already written it. The law-steward turned the page round so the commissioner could read the clause, and blew on the ink.

“If the guest wins, the clan delivers the late Commander’s leave papers to this commission within the day,” Yan Lianbi read aloud, holding up the page. “Elder Linghu’s seal here, please. And the commissioner’s.”

Both seals went down. The duel was set for lamp-lighting the next evening, in the court’s own yard.

“A tiger’s brother is no dog,” somebody muttered in the gallery as the Linghu filed out. “That boy’s late Shattering Void too.”

The thunder came that afternoon.

It rolled in from the south gate under a clear sky, and every dog in Shuoyang started barking.

A black carriage came up the main road at a walk. It had iron wheels, and thin threads of lightning crawled over the iron as they turned, crackling where they touched the stones. A banner of the Thunder Abyss Valley hung from one corner of its roof. From the other hung the five-clawed dragon of the Long Family.

The street emptied in front of it, and people went down on their knees in the doorways.

“The dragon banner!”

“That’s a prince’s carriage. Which prince comes this far north?”

“Thunder on the wheels. It’s the Fifth. It’s the Fifth Prince!”

The carriage stopped in front of the circuit court. An old man stepped down first, broad and bald, in a robe the colour of storm cloud. His pressure brushed across the square and every lamp on the court’s gate rattled. Early Profound Heaven.

Qin Wuyan looked at him across the square. The old man looked back. Neither of them bowed, and neither of them looked away first.

A woman stepped down next. She wore blue and white with a long sword across her back, and her face was cool and composed. She looked at Shi Feng once, and seemed to finish measuring him in that one look.

Then a young man jumped down without using the step.

He was eighteen, broad in the shoulders, with his hair tied back carelessly and his sleeves rolled to the elbow. Pale lightning scars ran up both his forearms.

Last came a deacon in Thunder Abyss grey, who hurried round the carriage and bowed to the court steps very low. When he came up and saw who was standing on them, he bowed again, even lower.

“Master Shi!” Lei Zhenhai said, sweating. “This deacon greets the honoured guest elder! The Valley Master sends his warmest respects!”

“Deacon Lei,” Shi Feng said, nodding. “It’s a long way from the Terrace lane. Have you brought the same scroll?”

“No! No scroll!” Lei Zhenhai said quickly, and showed both empty sleeves. “This deacon only attends His Highness!”

“Good,” Shi Feng said. “I still have the first one.”

Lei Zhenhai shut his mouth, embarrassed. He didn’t dare ask whether Shi Feng was joking about keeping that scroll.

Situ Mingzhao had come out onto the steps. He bowed to the young man and read from a court order sealed in imperial yellow.

“By decree,” Situ Mingzhao read. “The Long law requires a member of the Long Family to sit when a Long bond stands in question. The court sends His Highness the Fifth Prince, Long Zhenlei, to fill the Long seat. Recommended by His Highness the Third Prince, who writes: ‘Fifth Brother is the most impartial of us. He cares only for fighting.’”

Long Zhenlei laughed. It was a short, loud laugh, and nothing was hidden in it.

“That’s true,” Long Zhenlei said, and came up the steps two at a time, straight to Shi Feng. He looked him over slowly from head to foot. “You’re the one who cut Linghu Yan’s face. Tenth on the list. Late Shattering Void.”

“I am, Your Highness,” Shi Feng said.

“Good,” Long Zhenlei said. The lightning scars on his forearms gave off a faint crackle. Then he stepped back. “After the verdict. I don’t fight the accused.”