The stone stand of Empress Yan Huaisu was washed clean of salt. Then, Yan Zhiqiu’s fingers began to trace the fine, detailed decorative relief that ran across the lower borders of the marble robes.
What had appeared from a distance to be mere decorative scrollwork—stylized lotus blossoms, cloud-patterns, and sharp-angled lattices—revealed itself under close check to be an unbroken frieze of tiny seal-script, carved with staggering thickness into the stone hems.
Yan Zhiqiu unhooked the magnifying glass of polished beryl crystal from her courier belt, holding it close to the marble surface.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“Qiao Ming,” she whispered, her voice trembling with intense epigraphic excitement. “Bring the lamp closer. Look at these border seals.”
Qiao Ming stepped up onto the green-stone dais, carrying his small animal fat lamp. He held the golden flame three inches from the stone, shielding the draft with his wide, calloused palm so that the light lit up the micro-incisions in sharp, shadow-etched relief.
“These are not decorative clouds,” she said, her fingers moving from seal to seal with feverish speed. “These are the Eighteen Dynastic Pacts of the First Epoch. Here is the Seal of the Great Yu, who directed the first dredging of the land-wide shelf thirty-two thousand years ago. Here is the Seal of the Western Ji, confirming the alliance between Emperor Gao and the Master-Master builders of the Nadir.”
