Part 7
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-
Meishen did not rise with the dawn, but at a more reasonable hour. Now that she had opened her meridian, caught up on her assignments and earned some spare change, she had to turn her focus to something other than her own learning and cultivation: Little Verdure’s growth.
It was the last week of Lower Waterspan and if Meishen was any guess, Little Verdue would be hibernating by Middle Waterspan. He’d probably then sleep through until around Heavenly Firesun. That was, according to a novice’s bestiary, the typical time for Rootwyrms to hibernate. All of Woodspan and then increasingly large parts of Waterspan too, waking with the warming temperatures of Firespan and the coming of spring.
He would need a stockpile of spirit cores, Rootwyrms would devour them by the handful and slowly absorb them over the hibernating period. He would also need qi-rich materials to surround his den. Meishen had some to hand, leftovers from the spiritstags and her foraging but the best thing to get would be qi-rich wood. Wood chip, preferably. For that, she’d need more spirit stones to be able to buy the stuff, or something to barter with. But no artisan would cut her a good deal on a trade like that. Buying and selling at the market was governed by the Sect and the ineffable influences of supply and demand. An individual request for wood chip? Far less constrained, an artisan could ask for whatever price they liked.
It was this conundrum that Meishen needed to start tackling. The cores she could afford if her friends helped her out a little too, but then she would have not a shard spare for the exorbitant prices she would no doubt be charged for wood or similar. If she bought the wood chip, she would not be able to buy enough spirit cores and she could not hunt for them herself, especially with Little Verdure getting increasingly sleepy during the daytime as his hibernation approached. Meishen had no immediate answers to this, all she could do was pray most fervently that the spirits gave her a nudge towards a solution in the coming weeks.
She began by surveying Little Verdure’s Den behind her cottage first, getting a vague feel for the qi there and measuring out how large it was, trying to estimate how much material would be needed to cover the den in a solid layer of leaf litter, bark and wood chip. In the end, Meishen decided a full span by a full span would do the trick. That left trying to get a feel for pricing and availability of the right types of wood, or any alternatives. Perhaps now that Alchemist Nadine’s assignment needing leafstag vines was over, those would be on the market at good prices and in high supply? One could dream.
She wandered down to the Commissary, which dealt with Sect-allocated materials and stipends, missions and also requisitions and purchases from the Sect’s own stores. No luck. There was ebonwood at extortionate prices and some young maple but that was rich in fire qi and intended for use by carpenters and crafters seeking dual-aspect materials.
The market was not until the day after next, and so Meishen asked the clerk at the materials and requisitions desk to notify her if any qi-rich wood came in at 50 stones a plank or the equivalent in offcuts, chips or what have you. She would need a few planks' worth for Little Verdure’s den and it would need to be in place at the start of his hibernation if she was to avoid risking upsetting the balance of qi at the wrong stage of his development. That would be 150, maybe even 200 stones. A hundred a month was of course set aside for her contract with Hardy, that left her with a meagre 50 stones remaining of her stipend to live off for the month. 50 stones, to cover ink, paper, tea, any ingredients she needed to buy, materials for any talisman work she found time to pick up…
On one hand, it would solve her woes if the wood came in to the Commissary at that price, on the other hand Meishen would have no money to buy cores afterwards let alone her basic necessities. She sighed deeply as she wandered around Blossom Hill, idly browsing the few shops alongside the general store in the faint hope that there would be a few baskets of crushed wood going for just a hundred stones for the whole lot…
If the gemstone appears too fine, fetch a hammer and expect a mess. Meishen gave up on her wishful thinking after a while, and headed back towards the Thicket.She would have just enough time for a very early try of the mortal goulash if she went straight home.
Or she would have, but not a quarter hour after she stepped in the front door, there was a brusque knock. Considering his record thus far of arriving late in the evening, Meishen was not a little surprised to have Hardy arrive instead in the late afternoon, but she wasn’t put out by the change. At least this way she would have plenty of time to properly process and store everything that he had brought.
Everything he had brought turned out to be another selection of seasonal root vegetables, more potatoes and beets and Meishen suspected she’d be using the potatoes at least in the goulash. This time however, as Hardy had mentioned might happen, there was a basket of mushrooms in the mix.
“Did you find the guarding beast to be a suitable challenge?” Meishen asked, remembering how the other disciple had been keen to try his mettle against some fiend of the grove.
“It was a good fight,” Hardy said, with a half shrug. He was leaning against the kitchen wall whilst Meishen unpacked, inspected and weighed the goods. “I think the buttoncaps are in demand at the moment.” He added, a non-sequiteur but for the tiny mushrooms Meishen had just lifted from the basket. Moonchild Spotcaps, named for their pale caps and small size, often appearing as drifts of white dots amidst green moss and lichen.
They had been in demand, Meishen recalled. Mifi had told her so at the start of the season for the metal-aspected fungi. That had been in Lower Goldspan. He must not pay much attention to the market of the Outer Sect, Meishen supposed.
“Quite likely,” she replied anyway, a white lie but only a small one. The Spotcaps would be very nearly out of season now, that alone would raise demand just a tad. Still, the true treasure was yet to come. A magnificent Minister’s Cup, a variety of edible mushroom that - despite growing in dark and shaded places - was often replete with sun-qi. The golden yellow, funnel-shaped fungus was hefty, whole and in remarkable condition. Most importantly, it was one of a long list of rarer items that Meishen could hand in to Elder Farafiti for a reward.
There were two more Minister’s Cups in the basket, both of which would also go to Elder Farafiti. Meishen thought briefly that she might be able to earn some additional tuition or a new recipe outside of her assignment. Beneath those, the basket held a selection of various more common mushrooms from the Leafbone Grove but all were edible, and Meishen could already smell the buttery rich scent of the mushroom sauces she might make, or the fried caps draped with herbs and oil as a side dish.
“Twenty-nine weight,” Meishen read aloud the total wight after she’d inspected everything. She fetched the 58 stones from her lockbox to pay Hardy, who pocketed the money wordlessly.
“Have you a new recipe?” He asked, as he stood up from his lean against the wall. “Or will you still wish for the same sort of things next week?”
Inspiration struck Meishen, and was followed swiftly by anxiety. Would her next words cost her this essential deal? “I have been assigned a new recipe, and while I will require a few new ingredients such as juniper berries, I have most of what I will need for the next week or so. However, since the contract allows for special arrangements as required, might I presume to ask for small game? The meat is not so important,” she stumbled on through the words, not daring to look Hardy in the eye, “I merely require the cores, if the idea is not objectionable to you Disciple Hardy”
Oh great spirits please let this work, please let him not take offense, I don’t mean to push I just nee-
“Hmmm. Rootwyrm going into hibernation soon then?” Hardy raised that eyebrow again, and then uncrossed his arms and brought one fist up to prop his chin up in thought. “I would not have time to both forage and hunt, so I could fetch you cores and meat, or whatever vegetables and herbs you require. Which is it to be?”
“Cores, if I may,” Meishen gave a bow, too overcome with relief that her spontaneous gamble had not backfired to not reflexively show her gratitude.
“Cores it is then,” Hardy agreed, nonchalant. “Why do you need juniper berries?” He then asked.
Meishen blinked at him for a moment, the interest in her reasoning unexpected. “I am to learn to cook and then refine a recipe for a spiced, fire-qi rich stew called goulash, but it needs bay leaves. I have some, but cannot waste them on early attempts. Juniper berries will be substituted in until I am familiar enough with the dish that the bay leaves will not go to waste.” Or run out, that was even more important.
“A fire-qi rich stew?” Hardy echoed, “it must taste very different from the earth-qi stew then.”
Meishen could read between the lines, it wasn’t hard. “I shall of course keep some aside for you once I have begun to cook the qi-infused version. It is rich in yang energies, but that will not be a problem for you.” She added.
“Yang energies, well, if you need a taste tester to assist where you would struggle…” Hardy quirked his eyebrow, this time in challenge. He could have as much yang-heavy food as he liked of course.
“I shall gratefully anticipate your aid,” Meishen was not going to say no to a chance to further endear herself to her hunting spirit, nor to someone who would be able to eat a great deal of the goulash with no ill effects and be able to help her refine the recipe even before she had learned how to cope with the intense yang energies.
That acceptance earned her a quiet noise of amusement. If you spend a hundred stones, why not a hundred and ten? Meishen thought. Why not go all in?
“Would you care for a cup of tea and some pastries, Disciple Hardy? As thanks for agreeing to provide cores for me.”
“Certainly,” he didn’t even hesitate.
Meishen brewed a strong black tea to contrast pleasantly with the sweet pastries she served: petite parcels and crescents glazed with syrup of nectarleaf, with sweet cream and fruit fillings. They were not complicated as some sweets were, but she would not deny that she made them very well. She had always been best with desserts and confectioneries.
Conversation was sparse but casual, Hardy did not stand on any ceremony at all and seemed content to make small talk between snacks. It made for a more pleasant repast than Meishen’s last with an Inner Disciple at the table, but it also meant that it was hard for her to broach the matter she wished to discuss. It was only over the last pastries and the final cups poured from the teapot that she went for broke, before the chance slipped away.
“Ah,” Meishen blurted into a calm moment of silence, “sorry, I don’t wish to bother you further you have already offered me great assistance today, but could you help me return this to Honoured Disciple Mila Rose?” She held the jade slip from other day up in mute explanation, hoping that Hardy would know what it was.
It seemed he did, going by the quirked eyebrow and faint hint of a smile that flickered over his face. “You’ve not read it?” He asked, though it was clear what he expected the answer to be.
“I did not think it right to do so.” Meishen explained.
“It was a gift, was it not?” He countered, blandly.
“A jade slip in exchange for helping pick a suitable tea blend to go with lunch is hardly a fair trade, I do not like to feel I have swindled anyone.” Meishen said, thinking of the rough market value in Yoltem for jade slips and the Arts and guides therein. Just the making of slips and the craftmanship involved made them more expensive than any scroll even if the information was the same.
To her surprise, Hardy chuckled. “It’s just a basic technique for the staff.” He shrugged, “and I can’t return it, they’ve gone back to the Phoenix Peak Sect already.”
Meishen tried not to stare. What? She must have failed for Hardy raised his eyebrow again and gave her a - very brief - explanation.
“The Phoenix Peak Sect’s Master of Illusory Arts is friends with Elder Kensei, those warrior disciples on good terms with the Master often accompany him on his visits here and warriors from here accompany Elder Kensei in visiting the Phoenix Peak. It’s nothing formal, it is simply a chance to spar with a wider range of people, good training.”
Ahhhhh, hence why the four had been in such strange robes and seemed entirely unfamiliar to Meishen, and hence why they had stopped at the Outer Sect’s general store for tea rather than head up to the Inner Sect’s equivalent merchant. It did not explain why they were so free with their jade slips, though. If anything-
“Is this not another Sect’s Art then? Should it not be returned immediately?” Meishen had thought being seen as greedy or a swindler was bad, to be labeled a spy or thief would be so much worse.
Hardy just gave another faint shrug, entirely unconcerned. “Our two sects spar often, through the two Elders' meetings. We know all the basic combat techniques of the Phoenix Peak, as they know ours.”
“I-” Meishen slumped in her seat, lost. “It still seems so, so extreme. It was just some tea leaves and I am not even good with tea.” Even to her own ears, she sounded almost plaintive. Not a good look in front of even the most gracious benefactor. Her will to do better was suddenly absent however, gone in favour of mounting confusion and worry.
“They would have found any excuse,” Hardy’s words made no sense to Meishen, but he continued without pause. “They gave you that slip for Haribel’s sake, she places a lot of value on loyalty, unity and justice. She found it distasteful how viciously you were defeated, and it is clear that the Deepest Earth’s Dancing Oak technique does not suit you.” He stopped there, as if that explained all.
Meishen still didn’t understand. “The techniques are so different?” She asked the simplest of the questions crowding her head.
Hardy stared blankly for a second and then began what was a very concise explanation coming from anyone else but for him was shockingly verbose. To Meishen’s novice mind, all basic weapon techniques should be largely similar but as Hardy told her, this was not the case.
In his experience and from his studies, each Sect and Clan with their own techniques had certain traits shared across all those techniques that would mark a Sect of Deepest Earth swordsman from a Phoenix Peak Sect swordsman for example.
“I have not fought against any Torrent Court cultivators, nor anyone from the Chasm of the Undying and there are few writings on their combat techniques.” Hardy began to delve into some further detail, obviously not shy of sharing his knowledge on this topic. Meishen had no idea if he was uncommonly generous in this or if all warriors in the Inner Sect knew these things and she was simply ill educated on the matter.
"The techniques from the Shrine of Purest Waters focus highly on dexterity and agility, the Eternal Bounty Sect values swordsmanship above other weapons and their swordwork is light, elegant and precise. Clan Luckens produces strong, driving fistfighters with solid defenses but little reach, Grendan’s Clans share a habit of decisive movements but deceptive footwork.
“The techniques from our Sect draw on the solidity of bedrock and the flexibility of young saplings.” He looked her in the eye, “the firm foundation you can manage but to truly utilise the adaptability of our techniques requires a level of speed you do not have.” Meishen thought it gentle of him not to just call her incurably slow, to say she could not be so fast. ‘Have’ implied that she could ‘get’ but they both knew that was unlikely to happen.
Hardy gestured towards the jade slip still held loosely in her hand, "Phoenix Peak techniques have two sides. Most will learn both sides in combination but either side works as its own technique.
“The two precepts behind all fundamental Phoenix Peak techniques are ‘overwhelming assault’ and ‘unyielding defense’, you should not attempt to learn the offensive parts of Plume of Stone, but the defensive side will serve you well as a basic staff technique.” He finished, and picked up his cup, sipping his tea while Meishen processed all the information he had just divulged.
“Is it truly alright for me to learn another Sect’s technique like that?” She eventually asked, and then regretted it, such a childish question, so unsure.
A half-shrug. “Kensei knows Plume, he will still be able to teach you if you study it over Dancing Oak. Like I said, we know all their basic techniques and they ours.” He set his cup back down. “But you will need to rely on other disciples or your companion spirit beast to provide the offensive power needed in combat. You will be the foundation of bedrock for your comrades, they will need to provide the flexible attack.” He almost smiled, “so in one sense, it works with our Sect’s ideals anyway.”
Meishen bowed low over the table, “thank you for the explanation, Disciple Hardy. Might I still trouble you to thank Lady Haribel for her kind thoughts and the generosity of her supporters?” A little gratitude could go a long way after all.
Hardy waved a hand, “of course.”
“I am truly grateful for your support in this,” Meishen said, but she really meant for his support in everything thus far. He was uncommonly generous with his help, from the egalitarian wording the contract he had drafted to cement their agreement initially to the frequency with which he went above and beyond that already lenient foundation.
“You’re welcome,” was all he said, and fast as lightning the last pastry vanished from the dish. Meishen hadn’t even seen his hand move but there was the pastry on his plate. Meishen was not quick, but Hardy was, that much was clear. He devoured it in two bites and washed the crumbs down with the last of his tea. “I shall not deliver next week, not since I shall be hunting. I’ll deliver the week after.”
“I shall look forward to your next visit, Disciple Hardy.” Meishen saw him to the door. First the smile over her bundle of pastries last time and now this, did Hardy have a sweet tooth? She was trying to remember if she had served him anything else sweet even as she closed the door behind the hulking man.
She should test the theory, maybe a fruit-based dessert? Meriengue? Or a simple but well-made cake… Meishen returned to her kitchen to put away the produce Hardy had brought; perhaps biscuits? Almond and nectarleaf would make a light but sugary biscuit or she could go for sweet-bean buns or moon pies…
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