Night wind off the northern crags rattled the dry juniper needles between the flat stone slabs. Seyun walked over to the southern low roof wall with his Account Book tucked under his left arm. High above the ridge, the pale ring of Heaven’s Measure shone like a wheel of cold salt against the winter star-patterns. Its slow rotation cast faint, moving shadows from the twenty-four eight-sided pillars across the court. Nara Soth leaned her single right forearm on the frost-crusted coping stone of the low roof wall, her wooden walking staff resting against her hip.
She didn’t turn her head as Seyun stopped two paces away. Outside her reach, with his ash staff grounded openly beside his boot. For a long moment she simply looked out over the dark valley where a few shielded cooking fires glimmered among the walnut trees below the ruined hillside shrine.
“Four sessions,” Nara said at last, her low voice carrying easily through the freezing air. “Two hours of mint compresses from your sister, a midday bowl of broth, a Jade swordsman translating the lesson into smaller pieces. A spearwoman and a boy with a hemp rope taking turns striking your wrists until sunset. All of that, just so your channels could survive receiving an Early Jade echo at Bronze scale without blistering.”
