The hall was eighty paces deep. Thick beams crossed the ceiling, and twelve fluted green pillars held them up. Cedar shelves ran along the walls in twenty-four tiers. On them stood eight hundred sandalwood spirit tablets faced with beaten gold. A little bronze burner sent up a thread of smoke in front of each one.
Pei Jing could make out some of the titles as he passed. The Venerable Master of the Cloud Sea. The Sovereign of Clear Silt. The Divine Spear of Azure Skies. For six hundred years the sect had sealed its grain levies in this room. When a village refused, the men who signed the orders to burn it could offer incense to the same tablets.
At the far end, three white jade steps led to a throne carved out of river emerald. Its armrests were the coiled tails of horned serpents. Ling Xiao sat between them in violet silk. Gold stars covered his sleeves, and linked white jade circled his waist. Silver showed in the hair that lay loose across his shoulders. He had been born two hundred and ten winters ago. At a distance he looked sixty.
His left hand rested in his lap. Silver guards covered the long nails. His right hand lay on the pommel of the Wind-Severing Jade Sword. Its sheath was sea green and bound with white gold. Pei Jing watched the incense smoke circle the throne. There was a clear space seven paces wide around the patriarch’s knees.
