Part 6
The Archives were much the same as ever. Starting with the building housing the books and pamphlets, Meishen greeted a polite, if bored looking, staff member and presented the jade token that showed she had the right to access such places. She was waved in without fuss, of course, and set about browsing for books on tea production, brewing and trade across the Empire.
She started with the light and spacious shelves that formed the general knowledge sections and found very little of obvious interest. Likewise, the less-visited and more cramped economical and historical sections produced nothing relevant, lots of dry tomes on the history and profit margins of the tea trade across the Empire but nothing about varieties and regional specialties. Meishen browsed the books on Arts even, wondering if there would be something of tea ceremony Arts that might also cover tea varieties, but that bore no fruit either.
In the end, she retreated to the single column of shelves in a dusty, dim-lit corner that held the Outer Sect’s culinary knowledge and started instead to hunt for the compendium on culinary herbs and spices that she had seen on another visit. She needed cheaper alternatives to the precious bay leaves and perhaps the paprikas that she could use while she got to grips with the basics of the goulash recipe. The book she needed was on the second lowest shelf, and she plucked it out with ease, then her eye caught on another, an almanac on qi-rich cooking according to the faded characters stamped into the worn leather of the spine. This too was pulled out for closer inspection.
Meishen headed back towards the nearest aisle, there was a large table there for studying and reading, and she could see if it was worth getting any parts of these books transcibed or whether she should just borrow them for a short while. The table was partially occupied, but she simply gave a polite bow to the two boys already there, artisans of some sort each surrounded by stacks of books. They both saw her greeting, but ignored her in favour of flicking through their gathered books, clearly searching for specific information.
She let this minor lack of courtesy pass, and took a seat, opening the first of her books. The compendium proved to be as useful as she had thought it would be, providing an immediate alternative to her Bluesteel Bay leaves. The cheapest option would be a mild variety of oregano and perhaps a pinch of thyme, no particularly special types of either. Mortal herbs, easily available from the general store just up the road, they wouldn’t work once she started infusing qi but for the first few batches they would suffice for Meishen’s purposes.
Then, once qi-infusion was needed, there were juniper berries which could be used as a substitute. The Broken Coast Juniper was apparently the best for berries to be used in cooking,native to the coastline of the Eastern Bay, but there were many other types and Meishen was pleased to note that the Western Prickly Juniper was found in Zelua and therefore was likely found somewhere on the sect grounds. This one was noted as being less generous in the size of the berries and better suited for wine making, but still workable in the kitchen.
Meishen noted the details down on a sheet of paper, and even managed a decent reproduction of the book’s sketches of the berries and the branches that bore them.She jotted down the various minutiae listed about seasonality, harvest times, flavour profiles, how much was typically used for various dishes and how it could be swapped in or out in place of other herbs including the bay leaves she was loathe to waste. It was all useful for her, even if she only needed the basics right now.
A quick scan through the rest of the compendium revealed a similar level of detail on replacements for the two types of paprika she had been give. There were complicated substitutions, expensive ones, Meishen just noted down the cheap, mortal seasonings that she could use for her early experiments and hoped that she would not need to stint on the paprika as much as she would the bay leaves.
Satisfied with both her newfound knowledge and the book’s depth of knowledge on a wide array of herbs, Meishen turned her attention to the almanac. The herb book she would want transcribed, most likely, as it was an excellent companion to her knowledge of the basics of herbalism but perhaps this second tome would be more helpful to own in the long run.
Alamancke for the Cuisinarie Artes for All Seasones, the book’s title page said in archaic characters with old-fashioned flourishes. It was most definitely old, that much was clear. Yet, old did not necessarily mean outdated. Meishen skimmed the introduction and delved into the first chapter, which covered the first month of the year, late winter time, and in short brusque sentences detailed how the qi levels of various common ingredients would vary, the best times to harvest what was typically available in the first month of the Woodspan, things to be aware of such as the risk of imbalances in stored Stoneye Potatoes leading to mould and poor results from cooking anything rich in metal-qi.
Meishen sighed. This would also be good to have, also. But getting copies made of both would be extortionate. She pondered the matter for a while, each new recipe would likely require substitutions at first, until she could safely use the expensive and more qi-rich ingredients but those would not always be herbs, or at least the replacements wouldn’t. That said, almost every savoury dish used at least one herb. But she would only need it to identify herbs, replacements and varieties when making, refining or learning new recipes. Not for cooking dishes with already polished recipes, for desserts and sweet treats or for improving her actual cooking skills.
That said, the almanac was not an every day reference either, something to be checked at month’s end, in the early days of the following month, for troubleshooting perhaps and checking what was properly in-season and what would naturally be richest in qi or poorest, when the best harvests would be or the best hunting.
Meishen slumped over the two books in despair. Both, she would like both.
Or, she would like neither. She stacked the two books up and left them in front of her seat to show the spot at the table was taken and then returned to the dingy corner and the cookery books.
“Tea, tea, tea…” She murmured to herself as she searched for a guide to tea varieties. Surely there must be one? Tea ceremonies were no small business after all, what kind of sect wouldn’t have- Ah. There it was, another aged tome with the gold peeling from its lettering on the spine but still legible. The Teas and Steeped Beverages of Regia: From the Worldspine to Karnaphir Ocean. Meishen reached up to the top shelf and came up short, she could not quite reach. She turned to look around for a step or ladders and found one of the disciples from her table stood just behind her, a swarthy artisan who worked with wood judging by the carved ebonwood trinkets hanging from his belt. One of the outer sect’s carpentry disciples, an immortal architect in training?
“Excuse me,” He said, and reached up to take the book on teas off the shelf. Meishen gaped at him in astonishment at the sheer nerve of taking a book she had obviously found first. Summoning up her nerves she was about to say as much, then she saw the cold look on the boy’s face. No, it wasn’t nerve, or cheek. It was spite.
She watched the book go to the same table as her other finds, but to the far side to get abandoned next to stacked tomes and ignored in favour of whatever the two disciples were actually studying. She watched the two smirk at their little victory over the useless cook. She took a deep breathe to calm herself, her rising blood pressure setting all her fresh bruises to pounding, especially the one currently staining her chin which throbbed harder and harder as Meishen fought not to grind her teeth.
With a twist she faced the shelves again, and resolved to find another book on tea. If there was one, surely there would be a second, and if not here perhaps the geographical shelves had something on the geographic distributions of tea leaf strains across the Empire or some such treatsie. Silently, chewing over her frustration, Meishen checked every last spine one by one. Herbs, spices, spices, heating methods, the fish of the Eastern Isles, herbs, 100 Dishes from Regios, how to dress a carcass, herbs again, self-sustained cookery for the traveling cultivator, qi-based seasoning, spices…
Teas, Sorted by Ceremony and Rite. There that woul-
“Ah, apologies, I was looking for that.” A different voice this time, and a long-fingered hand covered in inky smudges shot passed her to slip the book off the shelf before Meishen could do more than reach for it. She didn’t need to turn around to know the other artisan was walking back to rejoin the thick-faced wood-worker, no doubt with a conspiratorial grin on both of their arrogant, smug, sneering faces.
Meishen bit her lip. Her face hurt, her shoulder hurt, her legs, her ribs and now she couldn’t even read the books she wanted in the Archives. She struggled for a minute, her breath hissing between clenched jaws, until she could resume at least the appearance of calm. For a moment she thought about reporting the matter to the staff in the hopes of getting either book handed over but then realised she had no way of proving ill intent, of demonstrating that the other two disciples had no real intention of reading up on tea. The Sect prohibited theft and murder, undue violence and torment but it also sought strong disciples, and strong-willed ones too. It did not coddle even the lowliest of disciples, it expected all to struggle to advance, to grow.
No, Meishen would have no help with such a trifling matter as this. But then again, as that very morning had proven, nor could she force the return of the books by force. She had not the influence to convince the boys to give the books back either, nor the cunning to steal them. No wealth to bribe the two disciples with, or intel to trade.
She did not look away from the two disciples as she collected her other books, she gave them the exact same polite bow she had given them upon her arrival at the table, the same polite smile. Then, back straight, she left. The books on tea would be there another time and the pair could not snatch them away every time. She could wait, she would not give them any more satisfaction than having delayed her research. She would remember them though, the swarthy carpenter and the gangly scribe. She would not forget their faces.
At least the girl from the morning had faced her in a spar and humiliated her in a fair fight, rather than this wretched, childish cruelty. Meishen could forgive the girl for being rude and too keen to hurt the perceived weakling in the class, it was nothing unusual for the weak to be thinned from the herd in such a manner. But stopping her from studying just to make life difficult? Because they could? How petty.
Meishen paid at the front desk for the almanac to be transcribed in its entirety, and had the compendium listed as a month-long loan on her jade permit slip. Costly, the transcription but she wouldn’t risk not being able to find it again when she wanted to borrow it. No-one would destroy or lose sect property but that was not to say it might no be miss-shelved or simply find a new home on a top shelf tall enough that she would not find it easily.
She tried not to sigh again as she walked up the road to the general store facing Cherry Hall. Instead, she drafted a mental list; oregano and thyme, peppers, a new ink stone and ream of paper, her normal morning tea leaves and a jug of fresh milk and pat of butter. She would forgo the flour and almonds she had been planning on baking with after spending the stones for an entire book to be transcribed and settled for the very essential items that she needed, she would simply have to make do with what ingredients she had stored for any extra-curricular cooking she did.
To her surprise, as Meishen entered the store, there stood head and shoulders over the outer disciples browsing around her, was the dark-skinned warrior woman from earlier. On second glance, Meishen saw that the slim, manicured woman was there too, her elaborate robes and hanging sleeves hidden by the sheer bulk of the larger woman.
Meishen would have wondered what the two were doing in the Outer Sect’s general store, but the two made no efforts to shield their conversation. Everyone in the shop could hear every word, the tall one was not a soft speaker that much was certain.
“This one is alright, I remember drinking this before.” The tall woman had a loud but clear voice, as warm as the dark amber colour of her skin. Meishen could not recall ever seeing her in the sect on any other day though.
“Those leaves could not be more obviously stale.” The other one had an accent as sophisticated as her clothes suggested, her tone as biting and harsh as a winter gale.
“Well how about those, they’ve got a strong fragrance.”
“And likely a weak flavour to match.”
Meishen found her herbs and stationery to the backdrop of the two arguing about which tea leaves to buy. She gathered it was to take back to the Quarry for a late afternoon break in their training. The entire shop must have known that was what it was for, the pair were not shy in discussing how important it was that their ‘Lady Haribel’ have a fitting beverage to accompany her lunch.
Unfortunately for Meishen, she had collected all that she needed, and spent a good few minutes idly browsing, and the two showed no signs of picking out a tea. What is it with today and tea? Have I offended some spirit of tea? She asked herself, deciding whether to just but her morning tea another day, but then again she had barely a pot’s worth left…
Choice made for her by the imagined agony of even a single morning without hot tea to wake her up, Meishen sidled up to the display of neatly labeled jars, hoping she would be able to simply weigh out what she required and make a quick escape.
“Hey, you were the girl that lost earlier,” the ebullient woman spotted her instantly.
Meishen felt her cheeks burn up between one breath and the next. Straight to incandescent red.
“Oh don’t be rude,” the other woman snapped. “Hardy told you he knew her. He told you her name too, you oaf.”
“Outer Disciple Torrinden greets her honoured superiors,” Meishen set her shopping side to give a formal bow, hands clasped before her.
The snappish woman gave her a stern glare, but returned the gesture with a slight bow of her own, the pale silk of her robes shimmering with the movement and displaying a subtle snake-skin pattern.
“This senior, Sung Sun, returns the Outer Disciple’s greeting,” the woman said, lofty as she was formal.
“Disciple Mila Rose, nice to meet you, Disciple Torrinden,” the looming woman was a carefree sort, it seemed. “Say, Hardy says you’re Elder Farafiti’s student.” She added, barely a question. Meishen kept her surprise from her face that Hardy had revealed to anyone that he knew her. He had struck her as the private type.
“Yes, Honoured Disciple Mila Rose, I study the culinary arts under Elder Farafiti.” Meishen confirmed.
“Great, what kind of tea goes well with a fish lunch?” Mila Rose asked, “we can’t decide what would work and we can’t very well get our lady the wrong sort.”
“Wine would be better.” Sung Sun sneered, obviously a comment already made and already rejected, going by the way Mila Rose just waved it aside.
Meishen bowed to acknowledge the question and then surveyed the teas available. She was by no means an expert, wines would be the better choice in her opinion as well as Sung Sun’s but if she had to make a suggestion, well.
“Perhaps I might suggest the Mountain Breath if the fish is a red meat, or strongly flavoured? If it is a lighter, white meat that your lady will enjoy for her lunch then the Snowblush Blossom tea would be the better choice of those available here.” Meishen knew only the basic rules for choosing teas, black for rich foods, white for light foods and flavours, green teas for green dishes and so on. Still, the general store had only a limited selection and she had tried most of them at least twice by now.
“Ah, so you are good at something,” Mila Rose chuckled, even as she plucked the jar of Snowblush Blossom off the shelf. Meishen did not miss the oblique reference to the Inner Disciples having witnessed her defeat earlier. She did not let it colour her voice or her face though, she could not afford to offend an Inner Disciple, even strange ones like this pair.
“I’m glad I could be of assistance, Honoured Inner Disciples,” Meishen bowed and went to collect her shopping from by her feet and make her way to the desk to pay, only for Mila Rose to pass the jar to Sung Sun and flick her fingers to produce a thin jade slip.
“Here, for your help.” The older woman handed the slip over to a befuddled Meishen before following her companion over the the desk to buy their tea. Meishen had not a moment to say anything, the two had dismissed her quite clearly but a jade slip? For a few words of advice? How uneven.
She blinked in confusion and before she could think of how to return the slip, to decline such over-generous payment, the two had vanished back out of the door, leaving her with the slip in one hand and her basket of goods in the other.
Teas, tests, ill fortune, good fortune, perhaps there was a tea spirit and Meishen had finally found its favour, these were the thoughts that tumbled through her head as she wended back through the Thicket. To be slighted over Archive books than given a jade slip in the same day, all over tea. Truly the world worked in strange ways.
Meishen put her purchases away, watered her potted plants and transferred some qi into the Dewdrop Mint’s array to sustain it. She fetched a late lunch for herself and Little Verdure, and chatted to him about the rigours of her day so far while they ate. A hearty noodle soup for her, offal for the Rootwyrm. His earnest support and sympathy soothed the wounds to her pride from the sparring match and the Archive both and Meishen found a truer calm after the meal and conversation. If nothing else, she had a true companion beast and true friends to help her. The spite of others would not hold her back with such staunch supporters.
Her mood lifted, she worked not on her meridian but on her physical cultivation, flowing slowly through the poses and motions of Dew Settles on Grassy Blades, another part of the Sect’s physical cultivation Art. This one was for after the hard exercise and fighting was done, to settle the circulated qi deeper into the worked flesh and bone. Meishen had a problem with letting her physical cultivation slip but she had been on the cusp of opening another meridian just that morning, she was quickly reaching the point where her body and not her qi would be the thing holding her back the most.
It was only after following the patterns of Dew Settles until she felt all her morning’s aches and bruises returning with a vengeance that Meishen stopped. She tried not to grimace as she stripped her robe off in the bathroom. That went into the basket to be washed, as did her shift and her underclothes. They needed it, after so much exercise. There was only so much the Sect’s special fabrics and weaves could so against so much sweat-inducing activity in one day.
The steaming hot bath made it all worthwhile though, salted liberally and then sprinkled with a few aromatics to give off a flowery fragrance, it leeched all the pain out of Meishen’s fatigued muscles and aching bones, washed away the dull discomfort of her bruises. She drifted for a while, lost in a sea of petals and steam and seeping warmth.
It was perhaps later than it should have been when Meishen dragged herself out of the bath, rubbed salve on all her injuries and threw on a plain cotton robe. The rest of the evening was spent with Little Verdure draped about her shoulders, while she studied the recipe and notes on the jade slip from Elder Farafiti. Meishen needed to wait for her next delivery so she could talk to Hardy about what he might be able to find that would work in goulash but in the meantime she wished to familiarise herself with the basics of the recipe as it had been given to her. The light outside faded to darkness as she read and wrote her own notes, until her own yawning was the biggest impediment to her studies, only then did she concede defeat and call it a night.
“Ah, mrrgggh…” It was with many small sounds of discomfort much grumbling that Meishen got up the next morning, the night’s sleep having done much to restore her energy and heal her injuries but also having done much to stiffen bruised joints and overworked muscles.
“Aie,” she exhaled as she stood to clear away her bowl after breakfast, feeling twinges racing along her abused calves. Still, she couldn’t spend the day sitting around feeling sorry for herself. The day after a physical cultivation class was when the qi in her flesh and bone was at its highest and she would need that edge to help with what she intended to do that morning.
The coolness of the early morning was both soothing and a touch chill, but Meishen knew it would not bother her for long. She managed with just a little more grumbling to sit cross legged on the veranda again, just outside the kitchen door, next to the steps down where she had a good view of the flowers and shrubs, the trees and bushes all growing in a jumble together behind her cottage. The dawn was breaking and the plants were beginning to feel the sunlight on their foliage, the flower buds were cracking open and when Meishen closed her eyes and focused she could feel the ambient qi levels starting to rise as the plantlife began to take in light and water and stir up qi flows.
Eyes closed, she started by regulating her breathing. Then came the fundamental part of the Dreaming Earth Art - Meishen imagined the earth beneath her reaching up through strata of rock and stone, then of dirt and soil. Reaching up through the deep roots of the oldest trees, spreading through intertwined webs of roots, climbing up trunks, stems and stalks. So did the earth reach for the sky, and as the multitude of flora awoke with the sunrise, did the ever-slumbering earth dream of the touch of the heavens, of the sky, of fire and wind and water.
The dreamer below and the dream above and all betwixt heaven and earth encompassed.All things connected, a cycle of life and energy, qi flowing from the earth to the heavens and back.
With each slow, deep breath, Meishen pulled in the qi around her. She purified it carefully in her dantian, discarding the mixed qi, circulating the scraps of earth, stone and fire qi and keeping a careful hold of the threads of wood qi. This was the aspect she sought, and this was the best time of day for it.
Gradually she built up a nebulous bundle of pure wood qi, a roiling ball of vines that strangely defined space behind her navel. She pulled a few loose pieces away and daintily slipped them into her heart meridian, feeling the way the last gaps in there closed up as she did and the way the whole meridian felt like it was creaking, a wineskin fulled right to the brim.
Meishen felt for the point the meridian would connect to her qi veins to take in qi, and then felt for where it would connect back out. With imagined hands she took her bundle of refined qi and shaped it into a lance with a fine, needle-sharp point. Some liked to force meridians open with vast quantities of qi, others with elaborate constructs of qi, or with multitudes of pills and elixirs. Meishen ascribed to an archaic tradition upheld by the miners of her home. She placed the sharpened bundle with its point resting against the inward connection of the meridian and focused her will.
Tap. She had to hold the qi-construct tight to keep the point from slipping. If it shifted she would have a misaligned meridian and would need to start over. Tap, tap, tap. She struck it again and agian, gently but with increasing force until the point began to bite into the wall of the meridian.
Spirits above but it stung. She tried to set the distraction aside. Tap. Tap. Tap. Deeper and deeper she drive that point of condensed qi. The pain of the puncture began to fade but only as the pain of the meridian stretching beyond capacity grew steadily, more and more the chisel-lance being forced inside with every blow. TAP. TAP. TAP. She grit her teeth and set her jaw, determined to keep her focus. The pain was sending tremors up and down her spine with every hit now, and Meishen could feel her muscles beginning to cramp from the tension throughout her body.
The halfway point was a strangely muted agony, too much pressure for the pain to fully register, the meridian feeling like it was about to shatter with the slightest impact. TAP. TAP. TAP. Meishen did not dare stop to reconsider anything, she simply continued and trusted that the process would work as it always had before. She felt the needle point piercing deeper, reaching for the far side of the meridian.
Everything was quivering, the pain, the pressure, her nerves strung too tight, it felt like each blow of her hammer of will would be her last, and then the needle bit once more. The wood-qi lance bridged the meridian, and then broke through it. The pure qi flowed, the pressure of the over-full meridian driving it back out the new hole as her will had driven it in, and dragging all the accumulated qi inside through the hole with it. Meishen frantically struggled to guide the flow to the right point, the form the correct connection.
And then it was done. The meridian was open, the qi streaming cleanly thought it. New connections made, a new vessel and a new passage added to her qi network.
Meishen did not move. She felt the new current for a while to be sure it flowed smoothly, and then she gradually withdrew her senses from her spirit veins, she drew back from the cycle of the Dreaming Earth, she drew back into her flesh and bone and blood. The thumping of her racing heart, the trembling of taut muscles and the unsteady rhythm of her breathing as her body gasped for air after what felt like fifty laps about Elder Kensei’s dratted field.
Once the worst of the exhaustion had passed, Meishen wobbled her way back inside for another bath laced with medicated salts and this time some incense to booth qi regeneration. She did not feel it now, with the rush of a new meridian but she would feel in just a few hours how much qi she had burned through to form that lance and drive it through a full meridian. An evening spent also mediating would go a long way.
The day was spent in less strenuous labour after she recovered somewhat. Meishen studied her jade slip on qi-transfer as she was getting rather deep into the techniques now and suspected Elder Tola would have more challenges for her to tackle soon. Then there was the other slip Elder Tola had given her on plant care. Meishen was currently working on the integration of feng shui as used for so many things from city planning to arcane divination with the qi needs and influences of various plants. There was apparently something of an art to it, but every successful immortal’s garden integrated feng shui with the properties of the plants.
The day slipped by in a gentle haze of intellectual study and physical and spiritual recuperation. Meishen sipped green tea and nibbled on sweet pastries as she wrapped her head around the minutiae of transfer efficiency coefficients and lunisolar triangulation of auspicious locii.
Candlesun and Fieldsun screamed by in a storm of paper and scrolls as Meishen worked on her assignments the first day and spent the second on a Sect mission from the Commissary to produce a score of their standard longevity talismans. Meishen was more than capable of basic talisman work but rarely picked up missions for it, the cost of the conductive inks and qi-absorptive papers made the profit margins dreadfully slim when she had so much work to do. With her hunting and foraging largely taken care of however, and the cost of transcription to recoup, she could spend a day on earning some extra spirit stones.
The Commissary was quiet when she trudged over in the evening to hand the bundle of completed talismans in at the desk, on the same day she’d taken the job too. The same officer was at the counter when she arrived as had issued her the mission, and seemed mildly suspicious at the quick return. The inspection before they accepted the goods was more thorough than usual but Meishen waited silently, too sick of the sight of paper for the moment to try and hurry things along.
There was something pleasant about the illusory clink of the stones as she stored them in her interspatial ring though, the sound of currency earned through her own labours. Meishen hummed a gentle tune as she made her way back home, and was still smiling as she laid her head down to rest that night. She had a little spare cash again, and would get her next delivery any day now. Soon. Soon, she would get to work on that goulash before her next tutorial with Elder Farafiti. Would the qi-rich version be best if she seared the spices with the meat or should she add them while it was simm-
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