Wuchen received the Ashfall party in a walled garden beside the Registry hall. Flowering vines shaded the stone path. A kettle waited on a low table, and two attendants stood by the arch without blocking it.
“Shen Yan,” Wuchen said. “Shen Ning. Lu Qinghe. Bai Jiu. Gu He. Welcome.” He turned to Ning. “Did the road worsen your breathing?”
“No. It was tiring, but I didn’t have the heavy cough I feared.”
“Good. Qinghe sent a travel update. Thank you for keeping me informed.”
Qinghe inclined her head. “Ning chose the pace at every stop. She rested when she needed to.”
Wuchen gestured toward the table. “Please sit wherever you like. The arch is open; the breeze comes through that side.”
Ning chose a chair near the opening. Yan noticed Wuchen had arranged a comfortable room in the Registry guest wing, with a view of the garden. He also noticed the invitation papers laid out on the table.
“You have terms prepared,” Yan said.
