The next morning, Pei Jing went down to the ledge below the glass terrace. A slab of white quartz had come to rest there during the trial. He slipped both hands under the near edge.
He set both hands under the lower edge and lifted. In his Golden Core days, a stone like this had pulled at every muscle in his back. This time, his pulse stayed at twenty-four beats a minute. He raised the slab to his chest before he felt much strain in his arms.
The small soul moved with him and helped pass the weight through his bones. He felt the pressure ease when the quartz touched the ledge again.
At four hundred and twenty pounds, he weighed more than he looked. Most of the weight was in his bones. He could feel their pull even sitting on the stone.
He looked inward. From outside the armor he could see where the first fifty-four bolts had set the plates together. Thin scales lay five deep. A soft layer beneath them took the last of the shock before it reached the soul. The seams could hold shut against the pressure of the void and against the kind of attack Vor had sent into his mind.
