At dawn Pei Jing climbed to a ledge above the Cloudford Basin. The wind smelled of crushed stone and pine. He had finished two hours of core practice before the light came up. Now he crouched with his hat pulled down and watched the fog lift.
Three peaks rose from the valley floor. Timber walls and dormitories stood on the lower slopes. Between them were terraces of pale blue rice. The other six peaks hung in the air three hundred feet above the valley. Iron chains ran from the floating rock to the ground. A single link was thick enough to weigh as much as a small ox. The chains slanted outward below the crags. They kept the peaks from drifting. The lifting lines were made of qi and ran from each crag straight down into the bedrock. The dome steadied the peaks from above.
The Cloud-Swallowing Grand Array shone above all nine peaks. Men had fired siege engines at that blue dome for three dynasties. From the valley road, it looked as solid as the sky.
Pei Jing took a copper sighting tube from his belt. There was nothing inside but two horsehairs crossed at the far end. He braced his elbow on his knee and followed the line of the dome down until it met the slope.
