Chapter 4: Pine Smoke

When Shen came back from the Sword Hall at noon, there was a stick of ink on his doorstep.

It lay on a square of grey paper, tied with a Discipline Hall tag dated that morning.

He picked it up and read the gold characters pressed into the side.

Pine Smoke, Number Four.

The sect store sold Number Two.

Nobody on the mountain had ever bought Number Four, because it cost three times as much and dried slower.

The apprentice fetched it for him once a season from one stall in Cress Ford.

It came in a paper bag marked with the name of a pickle shop.

The tag read: Replacement for ink spilled during inspection. Hall ledger, entry seventeen.

Nobody had inspected his study.

Nobody had spilled anything.

He turned and looked at the page he had left on the sill that morning.

It was dry, and it lay exactly where he had laid it, and its lower corner was squared to the frame by a finger's width.

He had not squared it.

He crossed the courtyard and knocked once on the guest cell door.

Mo opened it at once, with his sleeves rolled and ink on his right wrist as well as his cuff.

"Sword Saint."

"A gift needs a reason." Shen held up the ink.

"It is not a gift. It is a replacement."

Mo held the door with one hand.

"The Hall will inspect your study, once, under the Guest Rule. I paid in advance. It seemed efficient."

"The Hall has not inspected my study." Shen did not move.

"Not yet." Mo nodded. "I would like your leave to do it when the ledger says."

"Refused."

"Then the entry stays open, and I owe you ink. I would rather owe than be refused twice."

It was the most reasonable thing anyone had said to Shen in a year, and it was entirely mad.

Shen came to the point.

"I will give you terms."

"Please."

Shen held up one finger.

"Ten paces. To my left, never behind me."

"Ten paces, to your left." Mo repeated it exactly.

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