Dawn didn’t bring warmth to the Upper Citadel of Gu Ning.
A low, leaden ceiling of autumn clouds pressed against the granite castle walls, leaking a freezing drizzle that smelled of wet slate and stale soot.
High above the river slums, the patrician quarter usually woke to the ringing of temple chimes and the fragrant smoke of burning sandalwood.
On this morning, the only sound was the wild clatter of iron-shod boots over wet flat stone slabs.
Four court guards from the County Yamen sprinted up the grand marble stairs of the Dragon-Tiger Pavilion, their blue official robes soaked through with mud and sewer slime.
Behind them trailed six junior students, their faces the color of curdled animal fat as they carried two wicker stretchers wrapped in blood-soaked canvas.
They didn’t dare stop at the outer gates.
They pushed past the bronze guardian tigers, through the courtyard lined with hardwood training dummies. Then they collapsed onto their knees at the threshold of the Grand Tiger Hall.
