Elder Hesh remained half-risen above the upturned water bucket, one hand braced against the damp cedar post that divided the spring shed from the narrow service hall leading to the garden sick room. The lantern light caught the deep creases around his mouth as he looked from the oilskin ash pouch in Mina’s hands to Seyun’s steady eyes.
“I have given you my entire seasonal reserve, Seyun,” Hesh said in a hushed, urgent whisper. “And I’m leaving the three founding bamboo slips in your possession so you have written proof of the balance weight vessel structure wherever you travel. What else is there to settle here?”
“What happens in this yard after Mina and I walk back out the gate,” Seyun said. He shifted his weight carefully onto his sound right boot and stood up, resting his left heel lightly on the floorboards so the cedar splint around his fourth toe bore zero downward pressure. Even standing on one heel in a plain mended robe, he stood half a head taller than his former teacher. The quiet posture of his spine carried the clear poise of a fighter who had faced Jade pressure without breaking. “You gave me the ash behind a latched door at night, Master Hesh. Private kindness in a dark shed helps the patients I brought with me. I’m grateful for it. It does nothing for the thirty base students who will line up on the herb court gravel tomorrow morning.”
