Conservation is the slowest and most sacred rite of the water mapper’s craft.
In Entry hall 128, the high flood had begun its retreat, leaving the floor of Master Mason Lu’s nook damp and glistening like oiled slate. Qiao Ming knelt upon the granite stone stand, surrounded by the materials of his healing medicine art. A horn cup of rendered sheep fat, a wooden bowl of crushed white glow-stone, a cake of raw beeswax, and three soft brushes made of hare’s fur and badger bristle.
The work before him needed hours of total concentration.
He held his badger-bristle brush in his right hand, dipping the tips into a warm emulsion of melted animal fat and beeswax. With slow, circular strokes, he applied the protective grease to the scarred granite of Master Lu’s right hand.
He worked the grease into every tiny pit left by the Scholar’s acid needle. The animal fat, rich in natural fatty acids, pierced deep into the porous stone, displacing any leftover moisture and forming a flexible, water-repellent seal that would prevent the humid drafts from leaching the stone salts from the core.
Next, he took a pinch of the powdered glow-stone.
The stone was as fine as sifted flour, semi-clear and pale green, possessing the ancient chemical property of reacting with calcium silicates to form an iron-hard, diamond-hard crust of calcium fluoride.
