Chapter 986 — The Finding

CHAPTER 986

The Finding

Situ Mingzhao wrote the finding in one sitting, and the whole hall waited while he did it.

Nobody left. The grey-furred Yelü sat opposite the white-robed Linghu. The drivers kept their noon-meal seats at the back. Hao Dafu kept half rising to see past the heads ahead.

The commissioner wrote steadily, read the finished page, corrected one character and stood.

“The finding of the commission of inquiry, sitting at Shuoyang under Long law,” Situ Mingzhao read.

The hall was so quiet that Shi Feng could hear the clerk breathing.

“One. On the twelfth night at Grey Goose Pass, Commander Linghu Yan of the Lantern Guard, being on a leave his deputy did not sign, attacked Shi Feng, guest elder of the Sky Pavilion, masked, with his own blade, and struck first. Two. The guest defended himself. The wound to the Commander’s face was given in that defence, while the Commander was tearing space against him. Three. The guest is cleared of any fault in it,” Situ Mingzhao read.

He turned the page over.

“Four. The death of Commander Linghu Yan in the palace canal at Tianjing, four days later, lies outside the reach of this commission. It is referred to the court,” Situ Mingzhao read on, and lowered the page. “Five. The witness Cao Shuncai gave false testimony for money and is held by the Lantern Guard. The surety is discharged when the court accepts this finding.”

For one breath nobody made a sound.

Then the Yelü stood up all together, forty of them in grey, and the noise came down from the gallery all at once.

“Cleared! Cleared on every count!”

“The Commander struck first. It’s written down! The commission wrote it!”

“A guest elder of the Pavilion, and they tried to hang a drowning on him!”

“Ha! Did you hear? Cleared!” Hao Dafu was shouting at everyone near him, and slapping Lao Qi on the back so hard that Lao Qi coughed.

On the Linghu benches, nobody stood. Linghu Zhongshu sat with his eyes closed. Beside him, Linghu Que was looking at the commission table, and at the line about the palace canal.

Situ Mingzhao signed the finding and sealed it. He passed it to Pang Yue. The deputy read it, signed in a hard, square hand, and passed it on to the Long seat.

Long Zhenlei didn’t reread the finding. He’d heard every word. He signed in one impatient stroke, spattering ink across the table. Then he put the brush down and looked straight across the hall at Shi Feng.

“Now,” Long Zhenlei said.

The noise in the gallery died at once.

Shi Feng got up from the bench. His side ached, and the binding pulled when he straightened. He bowed to the Long seat.

“Not yet, Your Highness,” Shi Feng said.

Long Zhenlei’s face darkened. A thin crackle ran along the lightning scars on his forearms.

“You said after the verdict,” Long Zhenlei said. “That’s the verdict. It took two days, and I sat through both of them.”

“It’s the commission’s verdict,” Shi Feng said. “It isn’t the court’s yet. First, this page has to reach Tianjing and be read there. Until the court accepts it, Her Highness’s bond is still standing, and so is the case against me. Second, when we fight, it has to be written down as a spar that Your Highness asked for, signed by both of us and by the guardians. Otherwise someone in Tianjing will say the accused struck a prince of the blood while the ink on his finding was still wet.” He paused. “I don’t want that said. Neither does your sister.”

Long Zhenlei glared at him. Then he glared at the surety’s chair.

Long Caili sat with her hands folded and said nothing at all, because she was still a surety, and a surety didn’t argue.

“…Fine,” Long Zhenlei said at last, and slapped the table. “Ten days. The page goes south, the court reads it, and in ten days we fight. Not one day more!”

“Ten days,” Shi Feng agreed.

“Steward Yan,” Long Zhenlei said, pointing at him. “You. Write the terms. Now, while I’m sitting here.”

Yan Lianbi was already uncapping his ink.

He wrote for a long time. Long Zhenlei leaned over the table to watch him and grew more and more restless.

“Why does it need so many words?” Long Zhenlei demanded. “It’s a fight. Write ‘We fight.’”

“A spar, Your Highness,” Yan Lianbi said without looking up. “Requested by Your Highness, of your own will. In a ring set by both guardians. Not to the death. No grievance for any wound, to either party or either house.”

“Fine. And why is your ink so thick?” Long Zhenlei asked, frowning at the page. “It’s taking forever to dry.”

“Pavilion ink, Your Highness,” Yan Lianbi said, and blew on the line. “It doesn’t fade. A page like this has to stay readable for a long time, especially after someone wishes it didn’t exist.”

Long Zhenlei opened his mouth, closed it, and sat back with his arms folded.

“A good blade needs a good scabbard,” Xie Yuejian said from behind his chair, and that was all she said.

Yan Lianbi finished, sanded the page and turned it round. Long Zhenlei signed. Shi Feng signed beneath him. Qin Wuyan stepped up from the door and put the Pavilion’s guardian seal in the corner without a word, and across the hall Lei Wanjun came forward and put the Valley’s beside it.

Word went out of the circuit court before the ink was dry. By evening every teahouse in Shuoyang knew two things. The princess’s guest was cleared. And in ten days, he was going to fight the Fifth Prince.

“Master Shi,” Yan Lianbi said quietly, rolling up the terms as the hall emptied. “You understand the betting houses will open books on this tonight.”

“I expect His Highness will enjoy hearing that,” Shi Feng said. “He’ll count every bet as another reason to fight sooner.”