Sixty-four marble steps climbed from the Great Crossway to the Grand Desolation Pavilion. Great blocks of cloudstone fit together without mortar. Four bronze bells hung under the roof, each stamped with the seal of the Central Plains Auction League. Three Golden Core clans stood behind the league. Neither Great Yan nor the city’s five syndicates gave it orders.
Pei Jing leaned against a carved chimera at the foot of the eastern railing. From fifty paces away, he could see the whole plaza without moving his head.
A Golden Sun delegation was halfway up the stairs. Steward Pang puffed along in scarlet brocade. Behind him, two guards in mail carried a resin-wood chest with brass corners.
A tall woman in midnight blue stood at the top, blocking the arch. Fairy Ye Qinghan, the pavilion’s chief Cold-Moon Appraiser. Light mail showed beneath her plain silk. A silver hairpin held her hair up, and a black iron sheath hung at her hip. She held a brass lens and a pair of silver tweezers.
“Appraiser Ye,” Pang called. He made it up the last step and bowed, five jade rings bright on his hands. “Fifty of our finest Grade Two Golden Ray Talismans for the maritime auction. Pure sun-core ink on five-year mountain mulberry. Our chief assayer sealed each one.”
