Water dripped into the trough beside the straw mat. There was a drop every four seconds or so. Pei Jing listened to a few of them, then laid a piece of oiled lambskin on the floor and sat down.
He put the birch-bark voucher at one corner. His belt pouch held forty-two worn low-grade stones and eighty-four loose shards. Those were the coins he meant to be seen carrying. The rest of his savings were in storage. He added eight more low-grade stones for the posted intake fee, bringing the visible purse to fifty stones and eighty-four shards.
He checked both wrist guards. They held twenty-four needles between them. He set his brass canteen and the last of his dried venison beside the Black Mountain Whetstone. The Nine-Fold Astral Bone Blade rested in the space he had opened in his marrow. He could feel the star iron answer when he turned his core.
He drew out the three flasks and lifted the first. The wax came away cleanly under a bone awl. He tipped a pill into his palm.
It was about the size of a plum pit, dark indigo and dull on the surface. Nine white rings circled it. It smelled of crushed mint and cold iron bark. Even the damp room seemed a little clearer after he opened the flask.
