Pei Jing stood with his feet on the seam and listened into the mountain. He could hear drills in the valley when the wind dropped. The students had no Ledger to tell them whether they had done enough. One of the older girls called the rhythm. When a small boy lost it, she slowed down until he could join again.
Far below them there were roads buried in ash, and bones with wide joints. People might have learned some of the same work long before the sects started hunting independent teachers. He could tell no more from the bones alone.
The new road ran over the remains of the old one. Captain Shen rang a bell when the last wagon reached the shelter. The girls in the yard finished their drill and went inside to help.
