My Sect Is Down to Seven People

Chapter 60: Two Spirit Stones

On September 6, during the Snake hour, two people came up the mountain path.

Ge Song walked in front, slow, measuring each stone step with his feet. Cao Hu followed behind, a new blade at his waist, the bronze clasp on the sheath gleaming.

Nie Bo was sweeping by the gate arch. His broom pushed up to Ge Songʼs feet, swept around them, then continued on.

Jiang Wan came over from the East Courtyard, sword in her right hand, sheathed, and stood to the left of the gate arch, watching the people coming up the mountain.

Xu Yan circled out from the Accounts Room, ink still on his hands.

Ge Song stopped at the lowest stone step, looked up at the Mountain Gate, at the plaque, and only then at the people.

”Yesterday, on the ridge, I saw it,” he said.

”Saw it,” Xu Yan said.

”A formation that hasnʼt been opened in forty years—opened.” Ge Song paused. ”Opened. So what.”

Xu Yan didnʼt answer.

”Ten names on the roster, and you scraped them together. Scraped together or not, ten people is ten people. The Sect Alliance may recognize it. I donʼt.”

He paused again. ”On the ninth, Iʼll ask, one item at a time. Master Xu, letʼs see how many you can answer.”

Cao Hu spoke up from behind: ”On the ninth, my senior brotherʼs one staff. That stone-carrier of yours, Qi Condensation Second Layer, stands for one stick of incense.”

Ge Song didnʼt turn around. ”Cao Hu.”

Cao Hu shut his mouth and turned his face away.

Xu Yan said, ”See you on the ninth, Steward Ge.”

Ge Song stood still. He pulled a rolled paper from inside his robe, sealed at both ends, rolled tight. He weighed it in his palm once, then tucked it back and smoothed his robe flat.

”Iʼve brought the document.”

”Keep it with you.”

Ge Song turned and started down the mountain. At the third step he stopped, looked up at the plaque again, looked long enough, then continued down. When Cao Hu followed, he passed in front of Jiang Wan, eyes fixed on the path the whole way.

The mountain wind pushed a few dry leaves spinning in front of the gate. Nie Boʼs broom chased after them.

”What did he come up here for?” Jiang Wan said.

”To see if the formation was still up.”

”And what if it was?”

”So he can write a letter when he gets back,” Xu Yan said. ”He came to look for the person above him.”

Jiang Wan switched her sword to her left hand. ”If he asks, on the ninth.”

”He asks one, I answer one.”

”And if you canʼt answer?”

”Whatever the rules donʼt cover, I wonʼt add for him, and I wonʼt add for myself.”

Jiang Wan looked at him, said nothing more, and headed toward the East Courtyard.

On September 7, during the Dog hour, Cheng Banshan walked into the Accounts Room with his wine gourd.

The account books and that sheet of deckle-edged paper lay spread on the table, the lamp lit. The old man looked at the table first, then at the man.

”Still calculating at this hour,” he said.

”Two short.”

”You were two short two days ago.”

”Still two short.” Xu Yan set the brush on the brush rest.

Cheng Banshan sat down across from him, didnʼt open the gourd. ”Iʼve sun-dried seven winnowing trays of hay from the herb garden; no one in town wants it. I had someone ask Sun Youfu. Huichun Hall only takes good quality. And the Medicine Hall furnace—canʼt fire it up these days. One furnace full of charcoal costs several pieces.”

”I know.”

”You know a lot of things.” Cheng Banshan hefted the gourd. ”Shao Mingʼs prescription changes the day after tomorrow.”

”The medicine goes on his account. Deduct until itʼs gone.”

”That accountʼs been deducted for about twenty days now.” Cheng Banshan said. ”What are you going to do?”

”At dawn tomorrow Iʼm going down the mountain,” Xu Yan said. ”The pawnshop opens early.”

Cheng Banshanʼs hand stopped on the gourd. ”Pawn what?”

”An inkstone.”

”Worth two?”

”Donʼt know.” Xu Yan said. ”If itʼs not enough, Iʼll think of something.”

Cheng Banshan looked at him. ”The one the Old Sect Master gave you.”

”Yeah.”

”He gave it to you, and youʼre pawning it.”

”He gave it to me, so itʼs the one I can actually pawn.” Xu Yan said.

Cheng Banshan pulled the stopper from the gourd, took a drink, and pushed it back in. Wind had risen outside; the paper window rattled once.

The stone slab under the window made a soft sound. Then footsteps ran toward the front courtyard—two sets, one after the other, running out of step.

Cheng Banshan tilted his head and listened.

”Heard it,” Xu Yan said.

”Heard it.” Cheng Banshan stood and hung the gourd back on his waist. ”At dawn itʼs still dark. The stone slabs will be slick with dew.”

At the door he turned. ”Talk to those two clearly. If they start crying, donʼt you try to comfort them.”

On September 8, at dawn, the Mountain Gateʼs shadow still stretched long.

The lime circle was still there on the open ground before the gate, the white lines trampled through in a few places. Shi Po stood inside the circle, shoulders sunk, feet planted in the dirt. The smell of the salve on his back was fainter than in previous days.

Xu Yan came out of the Accounts Room with a cloth bundle, walked to the gate arch, and was stopped.

A He had gotten there first, hair not combed straight, one shoeʼs side folded over. A Sui was half a step behind, clutching a small cloth pouch.

A He stepped forward and opened his hand.

In his palm lay one Low-grade Spirit Stone, the edges worn smooth and shiny.

A Sui held out her hand too—hers was tied with a length of red cord. The two of them each held up one hand, raised to Xu Yanʼs chest.

”We have money,” A Sui said.

Xu Yan switched the cloth bundle to his left hand and squatted down.

”Where did you get these?”

”The Old Sect Master gave them to us at New Year,” A He said. ”One each. He told us to keep them.”

”Keep them for what?”

A He thought about it. ”We never decided.”

”I counted,” A Sui said. ”Counted lots of times. Itʼs tied on. It wonʼt fall off.”

Xu Yan looked at those two hands. The spirit stones werenʼt good even by Low-grade standards—chipped at the edges. But they were polished bright, the kind of bright that comes from being held every day.

”These are yours,” he said.

”Weʼre disciples now.” A He straightened his back. ”The sectʼs accounts—weʼre part of them too.”

A Sui echoed, ”The sectʼs accounts—weʼre part of them too.” Then she glanced at her brother and her voice dropped. ”A He taught me last night. It took me three tries to get it right.”

Shi Po spoke up from inside the circle, just reporting a fact: ”They didnʼt sleep last night.”

Xu Yan reached out and took the spirit stones from the childrenʼs palms, one at a time.

He stood, looked at the two spirit stones resting in his palm, then slipped them into his sleeve. With his other hand he picked up the cloth bundle.

”Come on,” he said. ”Back to the Accounts Room.”

The three of them walked back. A Sui trailed behind, glanced back at the Mountain Gate, then ran up and tugged his sleeve. ”Youʼre not going down the mountain?”

”Not anymore.”

Outside the gate arch, Nie Bo swept, pushing the broom all the way down to the bottom of the stone steps.

In the Accounts Room, Xu Yan set the two spirit stones on the table and opened the daily ledger. He dipped the brush in ink and wrote, line by line.

”September 8, income: two.”

”A He, one. A Sui, one.”

A He stood on tiptoe, leaning over the edge of the table to look, and when that wasnʼt enough, he circled around to Xu Yanʼs side to see the writing. A Sui couldnʼt reach, so she dragged over a little stool and climbed up—but Xu Yan blocked her with a hand, and she settled for sitting on the stool and leaning forward.

When he finished writing, he pushed the two spirit stones back, one each.

”Keep them yourselves. On the ninth, you put them down yourselves.”

A Sui untied the red cord, put the spirit stone back in her cloth pouch, wrapped the cord twice around her neck, tied a dead knot, and tucked it inside her collar.

A Heʼs pouch had come loose. He stuffed the spirit stone back in, wound the drawstring around his wrist round and round, tied several knots, raised his hand and shook it—no sound—and only then was satisfied.

After the two children left, Xu Yan bent down and pulled the old wooden box from under the bed. Inside the oiled paper packet, the chipped corner of the inkstone faced upward. He unwrapped it, looked for a moment, wrapped it again, and pushed it back under the bed.

On September 8, during the Snake hour, Bai Xiaoman walked into the Accounts Room, still pale.

”Elder Cheng said three days,” Xu Yan said.

”Three days have passed.” She pulled out a stool and sat. ”What are we counting today?”

Xu Yan lifted the wooden box onto the table.

Fourteen Mid-grade stones, laid out one by one, arranged in a vertical row. The Low-grade stones he poured onto the table in stacks of one hundred. Bai Xiaoman counted fast, tapping with her fingertips, and when she finished a stack she pushed it to the left and started the next.

At the seventh stack, there were only ninety-eight.

She finished, then counted again. Still ninety-eight.

The room went quiet for a moment.

”Elder Cheng told me to go to the Medicine Hall an hour early tomorrow,” Bai Xiaoman said. ”Iʼve taken my medicine. It wonʼt delay the formation.” She squared up the last stack. ”Tomorrow the clerk will count twice. Count it yourself first. If you miscount and they catch it in front of you, all this work was for nothing.”

Xu Yan arranged the seven stacks of Low-grade stones beside the Mid-grade row. The last stack was visibly thinner—anyone could see it at a glance. He covered it with a sheet of paper and wrote something on it to weigh it down.

A He and A Sui had returned at some point without anyone noticing—one hanging on the doorframe, the other peeking half a head in.

”I want to put mine down myself,” A Sui said.

”Where?”

”On the ninth, on the table.” She said, ”Itʼs mine. I wonʼt let anyone else touch it.”

”Fine.”

Bai Xiaoman stopped at the door. ”Spirit stones lose qi if they sit in a box too long. Line it with cloth tomorrow. Iʼll do the bottom of the box.”

”Okay.”

She left. Xu Yan closed the lid of the box, very gently.

During the Rooster hour, Qi Qi got back from town and headed straight into the Accounts Room, grabbed the cooled tea from the table, and gulped down two mouthfuls.

”The Rank Evaluatorʼs here.”

Xu Yan set down his brush.

”A woman, with two clerks. One carrying a wooden box, the other with the registers on his back.” Qi Qi set the bowl down. ”Staying in the innermost room at the Luoxia Inn. The innkeeper tried to offer her tea; she refused and had the clerk pay the full listed price. Not one coin short.”

”What else did she say?”

”Three things to the innkeeper.” Qi Qi counted on his fingers. ”One room, one night; leaving at dawn; nothing else needed.”

”Dawn.”

”Dawn.” Qi Qi said. ”The clerk with the registers stood outside the inn for half the day, looking up at the road that comes up the mountain.”

Xu Yan pulled the daily ledger closer, finished writing, then took out the deckle-edged paper and spread it under the lamp. His brush tip crossed out ”two short” written after the Rank Silver line—lightly, so lightly the paper didnʼt tear.

”Tomorrow, donʼt go out,” he said.

”Doing what?”

”Watch the Mountain Gate. Count how many people come up the road.”

”I can count every last one no matter how many.” Qi Qi grinned, and pulled the door shut behind him on the way out.

During the Pig hour, the lights on the mountain went out one by one.

The Medicine Hall still glowed. Cheng Banshan was inside brewing the medicine Shao Ming would drink tomorrow, the smell drifting along the veranda. There was also a light behind the kitchen, Qian Duoduo scrubbing tomorrowʼs pots, water splashing steadily. In the West Wing, most of the rooms were dark, but the one nearest the outside still burned—Du Xiaochuan sat beneath the lamp; on the other bed, Shao Ming was already asleep. A fire flickered on the Back Mountain, Huo Qing and Qi Qi taking turns guarding the formation eye, changing shifts twice a night. The low hut by the Mountain Gate was dark.

Xu Yan trimmed the lamp wick and stepped out with the lantern.

At the front courtyard, he didnʼt turn toward the East Courtyard. Someone was sitting on the Mountain Gate steps, back to the compound, sword across her knees, sheath mouth facing inward, a layer of dew settled on the sheath.

He stopped below the steps.

”Go to sleep,” Jiang Wan said, looking down the mountain.

”Youʼre not sleeping either.”

”Iʼm watching the gate,” she said. ”If no one watches the gate, anyone could come up and weʼd never know.”

Xu Yan looked up at the sky. Clouds covered half the moon; the mountain path was dark as if there were no road at all. He raised the lantern to light the steps.

”Cold at night,” he said.

Jiang Wan didnʼt answer. After a while she shifted the sword on her knees. ”That account of yours. Enough yet?”

”Enough.”

”Whereʼd the two come from?”

”The children gave them.”

The steps went quiet. She turned her head and glanced at the lantern in his hand, then looked back down the mountain.

Xu Yan stood with the lantern for a moment, then turned and went back to the Accounts Room.

In the deep hours of the night, there was still someone sitting on the Mountain Gate steps. In the East Courtyard, that roomʼs window stayed dark, and it was still dark when dawn came.