White steam rose from brass chimneys in the Lower Market of Hundred Fragrances. Red banners promised long life, clear spirit veins, and stronger marrow. Pei Jing could smell dried star lotus and honey in the steam. Underneath was the sour smell of burnt slag, bone meal, and cheap resin.
He walked along the edge of the gutter. His sandals took on greasy water with every step. Men and women sat against the posts that held up the next level of the city. Many had spent years in the mines or the swamps. Now they had to stop and catch their breath between one shop and the next.
A crowd had formed at the Azure Jade Firm. Brown pills lay on red silk behind glass. A sign called them Fourth-Grade Dragon-Marrow Replenishing Pills, standard quality, at 120 mid-grade spirit stones each.
“Last autumn it was ninety,” said a man in a badger-fur vest. He had a wet cough. “How are we meant to find thirty more when the beast caves are flooded?”
“The viper hunters have raised their prices,” the clerk said. He turned a jade ring on his thumb. “If you can’t afford the pill, take the scrapings. Eight low-grade stones for a packet. That’ll give your lungs another ten days.”
