“That was stupid of you.”

Chang-li opened his eyes. Scribe Wulan stood over his pallet, glowing. The old man was as short and irritable as ever.

Chang-li sat up, throwing off his covers. The quiet snores of his fellow scribes filled him. “My predecessor!”

“That idiot’s assault woke me from my slumber. I don’t have much lux stored. You leak like a sieve. I thought you were farther along. Have you truly have reached the second condensation?” Scribe Wulan frowned, leaning heavily on his stick. “Your lux is dense enough, but your channels drip lux. You must seal them.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It’s something Cultivator Kang used to say. I never progressed even as far as you, remember? But you should find out. And avoid that bully. He’s going to get you killed and me banished to nothingness.”

Chang-li had recovered from his surprise. “Why are you here, teacher?”

Wulan snorted. “Some teacher I am. Your bald friend was a better instructor. Why did you leave the tower? No, no. I understand, you needed supplies. Then why are you still here?”

“Because I do not have a license —”

Wulan struck him with an open palm. Chang-li flinched back, but the ghost’s hand passed through his cheek as though he’d be splashed with a cool draught of water. “No good! This tower cull progresses. If you waste time, you’ll never reach the Peak of Bodily Refinement. What happens if you leave this place without it?”

“I will be assigned elsewhere. Likely, with no future chance to cultivate.” Chang-li understood what Wulan was asking.

“Is that what you want? I tell you, boy. I had a long, honorable life as a scribe. And then, at the very end, I saw what could have been. I opened myself to a taste of cultivation and for one shining moment I thought I could be more. That chance was ripped away from me along with my heart and liver, but it’s not too late for you. Not yet. Not if you have the courage to seize that which has been denied you.”

Chang-li’s blood was stirring. His heart pounded in his ears. “I will reach the peak, and then beyond. I will progress as far as I can. I will risk anything for that goal.”

“Then you must return to the tower. As soon as you can.”

“I would eagerly hear your suggestion out, master scribe…”

“You’re the one with the fingers and the wits to forge a license or two. Stop dallying, and get back in there.”

Chang-li seized a quick opportunity. “What awaits my friend on the second floor? What is the challenge?”

“I don’t know.” Wulan held up a hand. “Truly, I do not. Cultivator Kang and I navigated the floor, found the way up, and left. If there was a guardian or a special challenge we never saw it. There were some odd creatures there, beings made entirely of lux, but they were no challenge to us; Kang showed me how to process their lux for my own and we were unharmed.”

“Oh.” Chang-li slumped. Not that he could have done anything to aid Joshi, but he’d been imagining what his friend was going through, and wishing he knew for sure.

“Worry about your own troubles,” Wulan advised. “You’ve enough of them.”

Chang-li burned with resolve as his body recovered over the next few days. He needed to get back into the tower as soon as possible and reach the Peak of Bodily Refinement as quickly as possible. No one — not Feng, not Inspector Ji-in — would stand in his way.

He had been tasked to take a census of the camp, checking that resources were being properly allocated. Inspector Ji’in had discovered some of the artisans were claiming to have more workers than they actually did, resulting in them having larger quarters and more rations, which were then promptly sold off on the black market. Chang-li was given a list of everyone who was supposed to be in the camp and told to confirm that they actually existed. It was tedious work, with long periods of waiting around for people to be brought to him. It gave him time to think.

Re-entering the first floor would be safest. He wouldn’t have to get past guards, but he'd need a large stash of purification rations. On the other hand, the higher up in a tower he went, the denser the lux. If he wanted to condense his core for the third time and then take the step from there to the peak, it would be easier on the third floor. For that, though, he needed a license, and he couldn't get one honestly, so he'd have to forge it.

That made him at once think of the noblewoman Min, whose Oaken Band member had a forged license. True, it hadn't been perfect, but she had used the correct paper. Chang-li had no access to that paper. It was carefully guarded by the Office of Cultivation. He'd need to get his hands on some.

He might be able to forge another requisition for purification rations. With so many more cultivators coming into the camp, he could try submitting the name of an outer sect member from Moon Whispers and hope his deception wasn't caught. But first, he needed that license.

Chang-li paid close attention to the laborers and artisans. He saw no sign of Brother Stone, but after spending several hours in the lower camp, going from house to house in the course of his inspecting and certifying that each of them was filled to capacity, he finally found who he was looking for. Sister Lishan, the woman who had been assaulted by one of Feng's cultivators, was busy preparing vegetables for a communal meal, chopping them as she stood beneath a woven shade that protected her from the beating sun and tossing the slices into a large pot at her feet.

Chang-li stopped by. Her eyes flickered to his robe, then to his face. Her mouth dropped open. She looked scared. Chang-li held up a hand. "I'm just here to ask if you can pass a message," he hissed. "I need to speak with Elder Sister Min."

Now she looked terrified. "Why?" she whispered, missing her chop and crudely slicing a taro root into uneven chunks.

"That is between her and me," Chang-li said. "Just please pass the message along. I know you must have ways of contacting her."

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

"Well, you can tell someone who can tell someone who can tell her," Chang-li was starting to feel irritated.

The woman looked around nervously, then nodded. "Very well. But don't come and ask me. I'll have them contact you directly."

Two days later, still dealing with scribe business, Chang-li nearly dropped his brush as Brother Stone himself came into the scribe house. The squat, solid Brotherhood man wore the clothes of a laborer. His head, now that Chang-li got a look at him in good light, was covered in scars and his nose had clearly been broken. Chang-li could sense the density of his lux. This man had condensed his core at least twice and was probably close to the same place on the Heavenly Climb as Chang-li.

There were several others in the room waiting for Chang-li's attention. He served each of them attentively, glad that Scribe Li Ran was not there. At last, only he and Brother Stone remained.

Brother Stone approached the counter. "You have a message?"

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"I need to speak with your elder sister," Chang-li said, careful not to use Min's name.

"Why?"

Chang-li shook his head. "Just tell her I need to speak with her.” He saw the look of distaste on Brother Stone's face. "Remember," he urged, "I spoke up for you. I've suffered for that. Feng tried to punish me three days ago."

Brother Stone's eyes went narrow. “Yet here you stand.”

Chang-li shrugged. "Perhaps even a cultivator is afraid of offending the order of scribes."

Brother Stone's lips curled up a little. "Perhaps," he said. He looked Chang-li over. "There is a small, unofficial gaming parlor in the artisans' quarters. The fourth building on the left after you descend the second stair. Second floor. The password is, for tonight, lotus root stew. But the guard will know your face, and if anyone but you turns up, let's just say, the Oaken Band pays all of our debts. All of them."

Chang-li nodded. "Thank you."

He wished very much for the cloak he'd given Hiroko as he slipped through the darkened streets of the camp. As he passed the stairs leading down to the slave quarters, he heard distant chanting and wondered what was going on down there. He had visited the quarters only a handful of times in the course of his weeks in the camp, mostly to record the arrival of new groups of slaves. Now he couldn't help thinking of Joshi. Every one of the slaves down there had their own story, though it was hard to believe any of them were quite as compelling as Joshi's.

He passed a small licensed tavern where mid-ranking officers liked to drink, a few rooms down from the tea and soju shop that the important officers and officials such as Inspector Ji-in would spend free evenings, then reached the steps to the artisans' quarters. Then he came to the stairs leading down to the second tier of the camp.

The broad stone shelf was nearly as broad as the expanse by the bridge at the entrance of the camp. Houses and buildings clung to the face of the mountain, faced by a whole row of flat-topped two and three-story buildings filling most of the available space. Mostly they were made of stone, though a few wooden structures were present. It was to one of these that he was headed.

He brushed past the heavy curtain hanging in the doorway and a big burly man, as muscled as Brother Stone but half a head taller and wearing the sleeveless brown linen tunic of a worker, like Chang-li’s own brother and father had always worn, stepped in front of him. "What are you here for?" the man challenged, holding his arms across his chest.

Chang-li looked up and met his firm gaze. "Lotus root stew. I heard it's the special tonight.”

The man stepped aside and gestured at a narrow wooden staircase. Chang-li climbed and found himself outside a door on a tiny landing. He knocked.

A slot slid open. A pair of eyes looked out at him. “You’re expected. Come in.” The door swung open.

Inside, the room was dim and full of smoke. Low tables filled the floor, crowded with men and women who sat with teacups or soju mugs at their elbows, smoking pipes, and playing different games. They saw several tiles, matches, two dice games, and in the far corner, two pairs of people bent over shaka boards. A woman approached. Not Min; this one wore a thin linen shift and a wide dark sash atop it. She bowed to him. "This way."

The rear of the room was closed off with a thin wooden wall and a single door. A man lounged at a table beside the door. He gave Chang-li a look over before nodding, and the girl led him through the doorway.

The back room was not what Chang-li had expected. It was well lit. A long bench lined two of the walls, plush and embroidered, and three small groups of people sat along the bench, drinking and talking. Min sat in the back corner by herself. There was a teapot on the small table beside her and a pair of cups.

Chang-li swallowed hard, then approached her, conscious of the eyes on him. He bowed. It was as though she were a noble holding court, with her retainers around, and he was here to petition.

She gestured. "Be seated, scribe." She sounded amused.

He slid in to the bench adjacent to her. "What can I do for you?" She lifted the teapot and poured liquid that was most certainly not tea into the two cups, then offered one to Chang-li. He accepted it once, and raised it to his lips. It was a very fine soju, or so he assumed. He'd only ever had rotgut. This had none of the burning taste, only a smooth sensation as it slipped down his throat.

"I am here to ask a favor.”

Min raised an eyebrow. She looked cool and calculating, but also, in this light, younger than he had thought before, as though here she was relaxed and letting down her guard. "What makes you think I owe you a favor?"

"The Oaken Band pays all its debts,” quoting Brother Stone. "We both know I did you a favor. Cultivator Feng tried to take it out of my hide two days ago."

Min nodded. "I heard about that. I offer my sincerest apologies, but as you know, Cultivator Feng is a thorn in my side as well."

"Then you do admit you owe me?"

"I don't think I said that," Min said. "But I am willing to hear your request, if you get to it." She looked around. “My time outside the royal quarters is limited, and I have other tasks to accomplish tonight. I hope you appreciate that."

"I do.” He took a deep breath. "The license Brother Stone had. I want a sheet of that paper."

Her eyes narrowed. Min picked up her own teacup, holding it delicately between two fingers, as he had often seen noble women do. She sipped. "Why?"

"Doesn't matter. I need it."

"It very much does matter," Min said. "That paper is a cultivator's license. It is not easily come by."

"I have faith that you can do it."

"I am not sure that the favor I owe you extends so far." Min picked up her cup and sipped again. It seemed as though she were considering his request. She set down the cup and clapped her hands. “Brothers and sisters, I beg your indulgence. A moment of privacy, please. But do ask Brother Stone to join us.”

Chang-Li felt rising concern as everyone else in the room stood and left, their cups and games remaining behind.

"You understand," Min said, "that this favor would require me calling in other favors. I need to know more. For example, to whom do you plan to sell this license? I recall you being very vehement that you would have nothing to do with forging licenses, so I'm curious to know why exactly you've chosen to change your tune."

Chang-li let out a tiny sigh of relief. So she thought he wanted to sell a license. That was good. It gave him an excuse, one he’d already thought out. "My business dealings are my own," he said.

"We in the Brotherhood believe in taking care of our own, yet if the recipient of this license should be caught, there will be questions as to where he got it, questions that could lead back to me and mine."

Chang-li shook his head. "Never. For one. I am a better forger than whoever you worked with before. My license will stand up to scrutiny."

"I hope that's the case." Min looked up. Her expression changed. "Ah, Brother Stone, please sit and have a drink with us."

Brother Stone was clutching a mug already. "I'll stick with beer if it's all right."

"Anything you like," Min said easily.

Brother Stone sat down next to Chang-li, squeezing him uncomfortably. The man drained his mug, then turned to Chang-li. "I do owe you," he acknowledged. "I made some inquiries about Feng. Sorry about that elevated prick and his doings. My informant says Feng was boasting he had crippled you, but you seem to be doing all right."

A quick stab of fear ran through Chang-li, and he brushed it off. "I believe Cultivator Feng may have been exaggerating for the sake of aggrandizing himself."

"That is possible," Stone agreed. He held out his hand.

Chang-li stared. "What is that?"

"In the Brotherhood, when we owe each other a debt of gratitude, we signify it by clasping hands," Brother Stone said.

Chang-li hesitated, but Min was staring at him, so he held out his hand. Brother Stone enveloped his palm and pressed down hard. Chang-li cried out. For an instant, instinctively, he struggled, cycling lux into his hand, desperate to protect himself and his scribing hand.

Stone relaxed his grip at once and turned to Min. "No question. He's been cultivating. He feels close to the Peak, as well.”

Min's eyes narrowed. "I was suspicious when I heard what Feng had done. Sister Lishan didn't mention you seeming damaged. Then I remembered the cloak I had given you."

"What about it?" Chang-li asked nervously, still trying to wrap his brain around what was going on.

"I was present when Princess Hiroko arrived in camp." Min leaned forward, her eyes scrutinizing Chang-li. "She was wearing nothing but her undergarments and a traveler's cloak. I thought at the time it looked curiously familiar, but assumed it was a coincidence. Now though, I'm certain that was the Brotherhood's cloak she wore. How did Princess Hiroko come to have your cloak? How is it you both survived the attack from the Tower Beasts?"

Panicking, Chang-li shook his head. "I wasn't there.” He could feel himself starting to babble. "I was in Golden Moon City, working. I wasn't on the procession.”

Min ignored him. “So I ask myself, since you were not in Golden Moon City and you were with Princess Hiroko, and now you wish a cultivator's license because, as Brother Stone has just determined, you've been cultivating..." She paused. Chang-li's heart was pounding so loudly he could hear it in his ears. What should he do now? How could he make an excuse that would get him out of this?

"You found an entrance to the Tower. Since you and the Princess both survived, it must be a very low entrance. The first floor, perhaps?"

Brother Stone’s brow furrowed. “But if he’s found an entrance, why does he need to forge a license? Why not just go back there?”

Min leaned forward. "Yes, you found an entrance. But now you want to enter level three, and become an official cultivator with a license and permission to cultivate, instead of sneaking around and risking getting caught.”

Chang-li just sat there, his whole intricate scheme falling to pieces around his ears.

"Oh, don't worry," Min said, seeing the expression on his face. "I am not going to turn you in. No, I'm going to give you exactly what you want."

Chang-li felt as though someone had just taken a great weight off of his chest. He could breathe again. "You... you are?"

"Yes," Min said. "In fact, I'm going to give you more than that. Scribe Chang-li, welcome to the Brotherhood as our brand new guide to cultivation."