Several days after the rain, a wagon from the family grain fund reached the new docks at Cloudford. A woman named Wen brought a sack and her brother’s death slip. He had been one of Wu’s runners. Her daughter came with her to help carry the grain.
A tithe clerk had arrived before them. He had crossed out the seal on the wagon sheet. “The sect took a tenth of this store in kind. My office is owed the arrears.”
Wen held out the old receipt. She had paid the ordinary levy in spring. The man would not take it from her. One of the wagoners reached under his seat for a stick.
“Put that down,” Wen told him. She asked the clerk to write whose name would go against the arrears. The clerk looked at the line where Wu had recorded her brother’s death. Three other families put their slips beside it. He folded his paper and said he would take the matter to the district office.
The storekeeper filled Wen’s sack. He had orders to report every collector who came back. He asked if he could use her name. Wen gave it. “Use his too,” she said, touching the death slip.
