A woman's voice called from the outer hall of the scribe's office. "Hello? I have need of a scribe."

Grumbling to himself, Chang-li locked his cultivator's journal carefully in his chest, smoothed his robes, and proceeded out to the main room.

It was dominated by the long counter where people could present their records and licenses for endorsement. During normal hours, there would always be a scribe here manning the counter, but this was after the end of the day. Everyone should be at dinner.

A beautiful young woman stood at the counter, her gold-painted fingernails rapping against it. Over her simple sheath-dress she wore a fine robe of white linen, edged with an inch-wide red border, the mark of a member of the outermost level of the sevenfold court. Around her neck, an iron pendant with a red stone indicated she was one of the Court of Gems — unmarried royalty, able to be courted by those with high connections. She had glossy dark hair falling in delicately arrayed curls to her shoulders, drawn back with wooden pins set with garnets. Her deep brown eyes were sharp and sparkling, her skin just a shade darker than the ideal of beauty.

He bowed deeply, hands folded together. "My lady," he said politely, "how may I help you?"

Her eyes swept him up and down, then narrowed as though she didn't much like what she was seeing. "Are you the only scribe available?"

He spread his hands apologetically. "My lady, it is after our accustomed hours of business. If you return tomorrow, my master, Inspector Ji-in —”

“Nonsense. You don't think I would come to you on Oaken Band Brotherhood business before dark, do you?"

Chang-li stiffened. He had been trained, but this was the first time he had ever been asked anything concerning a Brotherhood. At once, he reached for his scribe's case. This business would not be conducted here at the scribing hall, that was for sure.

"I stand ready to assist you, my lady."

"Then come." She looked him over and added, "And you can stop that 'my lady' business. My name is Min. My brothers call me Elder Sister Min, but you are not one of those. You are here to help us, and therefore you speak as my equal."

He bowed again to her back as he followed her from the scribing house. Min led at a quick pace through the darkening camp, past the rows of official buildings made of wood and waxed paper window screens, past the soldiers' barracks. Not, he noted, toward the royal enclave at the far north end of the camp. He had never been called inside the walls of their palisade. Instead, she headed for the east side of the camp, where most of the contracted laborers and skilled artisans stayed.

Their quarters were far better than the conscript and slave barracks that Chang-li had visited before, though not as nice as his own scribes' barracks. He estimated there must be about 300 residents here, staying in ten long, low buildings. Two of them had red doors, indicating they were for women and that men were not permitted inside.

Min led him through and out to the darkness on the far edge of the camp. There, in a place between the last row of barracks and the wooden palisade that surrounded the camp, stood a circle of people. Two circles, in fact. The outer one, a loose assortment of about fifteen men faced outward, watching the area with wary eyes. The dozen who wore colored rosettes on their laborers' tunics also carried torches and clubs. The blue and gold rosettes identified them as Oaken Band brothers.

The other five of the outer ring wore the orange-and-purple cultivator's robes of the Soaring Heavens sect, though their white sashes showed they were all outer disciples, the lowest tier.

Min led him between a pair of the Oaken Band guards, who dipped their heads to her and resumed their outward watch. The inner circle crowded tightly together, about 20 men and women, mostly Oaken Band members, but a couple of Soaring Heavens cultivators. Min pushed through and brought Chang-li into the center of the ring. He found himself face to face with Young Master Feng.

Chang-li's mouth dropped. He stepped backward but ran into an unyielding wall of spectators.

Feng looked him over. "You brought a scribe?” His eyes showed no sign of recognition, just distaste.

Chang-li realized Feng didn’t remember him. That changed his quick stab of fear to a feeling of resentment. This man had almost gotten him killed a week ago, had been responsible for the death of 30 others, and he didn’t even have the decency to remember Chang-li’s face.

Min crossed her arms and stared the young master down. “He is a scribe. He will do his duty. These things must be recorded in the proper way."

Young Master Feng's lips curled in a sneer. "Scribe,” without actually looking at Chang-li, "you are here to witness that this is an honorable duel between two men who have agreed there is no other way to settle their differences."

Chang-li took a deep breath. At last, something made sense. Someone in the Brotherhood and someone in the sect had a quarrel. The quarrel could not be settled by usual means, and so it must come to a duel.

Duels were not legal. Should a camp official or a member of the army come upon this, he would be duty-bound to break it up. Scribes did not enforce laws. They merely ensured that what actually happened was recorded. Chang-li was here to watch the duel and write down its outcome.

Min faced the crowd. More than two-thirds of the spectators were members of her Brotherhood. All of them were armed. And yet, Chang-li would have put his money down on the sect members winning in a fight. At least two of them were cultivators with bulging muscles and the faint glow to their skin indicating they were near the Peak of Bodily Refinement.

That was not even counting Young Master Feng. From gossip around the camp, Chang-li knew that Feng was well along the second tier of cultivation, that of Mental Refinement. His body was already honed and polished far beyond what a mere mortal was capable of. Though not particularly large or meaty-seeming, the cords of muscle in Feng's lean, bare arms stood out like iron bands beneath his copper-hued skin. His piercing eyes missed nothing. He seemed to take up more space than he physically should, his presence somehow more than anyone else's here.

Chang-li felt Feng's presence growing even stronger and knew he must be using a cultivator technique. The spectators took a step back. Chang-li's teeth chattered. He forced himself to stand in place.

Min, the woman in courtly white and red, stood up straight under the cultivator's overbearing presence. She was a puzzle. Clearly, she was both royalty and an influential member of this Brotherhood. Now she spoke.

"Younger brother and sister Lishan bring us their complaint.” She gestured to a pair at the side of the crowd. The weeping woman was in her young twenties. The angry man had his arm around the woman's shoulder. The man's eyes screamed fury, but he took no step forward.

“They accused Outer Sect Disciple Hui of forcing himself on Sister Lishan.”

The outer disciple scowled at the pair. He did not appear particularly impressive. If he was on the path, he had not taken many steps along it. "The wench was willing. Now that her husband has found out, she calls it assault."

"There," Young Master Feng said, "you have heard my disciple's words from his own mouth. Will you doubt the word of a member of the Soaring Heavens Sect?"

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"I will back my own younger brother and sister," Min snapped. She was definitely younger than either of the Lishan pair. Brotherhoods used "younger" and "elder" to indicate status. Whoever this woman was, she was clearly powerful in the ranks of the Oaken Band.

Chang-li would have to ask quiet questions around camp, but he knew that the Oaken Band was one of the most powerful fraternal organizations in Riceflower Province. Doubtless, they had placed as many of their people in this expedition. A climbing expedition always offered opportunities for profit, as well as a chance, perhaps, for some of their members to cultivate.

This woman, clearly of noble stock, must also be well connected in the Brotherhood. She would be here to handle situations exactly like this, forcing the Young Master of a sect to answer for his disciple's offenses when no one else in her Brotherhood had the standing to make this happen.

"You dare?" Young Master Feng snarled.

"I do, and I demand satisfaction."

The offending cultivator, Hui, sneered. “I’ll face your Brother Lishan right now."

"No," Min said. "You will not.” She gestured, and a man, a good head taller than anyone else in the crowd, stepped forward. He was bald. He wore a tunic with almost no sleeves, revealing vast muscular biceps and shoulders. His hands were nearly the size of Chang-li's head. He cracked his knuckles and formed a fist and pounded his palm with it.

"This is Brother Stone," Min said. "He is our champion. He will face your disciple."

Young Master Feng looked the man up and down. He sneered. "This will be a fine chance to educate you people on the difference between might and power. You," he nodded to Stone, "are a strong man. Clearly, you have been strong your whole life, but that matters nothing compared to a man who is on the path of cultivation." His eyes fell on his disciple, who was shrinking back. "Disciple Hui is under discipline. I do not permit him to fight. Your man may face disciple Zhang, if he dares."

The indicated sect member stepped forward. This man was clearly farther along the path than Disciple Hui. His skin gleamed with an almost metallic sheen. He moved with a cat-like grace. He faced Brother Stone and bowed.

"I shall warn you, I have taken the second step along the path. I am nearing the Peak of Bodily Refinement."

"But you're not there yet," Brother Stone growled. "I'm not afraid to take you on."

"Your terms are acceptable," Min snapped. She turned to Chang-li. "Scribe?"

"Oh, yes," Chang-li fumbled in his bag. Some of the watchers laughed. His cheeks burned as he pulled out a pad of rice paper and inked his pen. He began at once to write out the details.

“Unlawful but witnessed duel between Oaken Band Brotherhood Member Stone and Soaring Heavens Sect Disciple Zhang, witnessed by Young Master Feng of the Soaring Heavens Sect and,” he paused and turned to Min. "My lady, ah, Min, how shall I put you?"

She reached inside her robe and pulled out a seal cylinder. It had a design on its smooth ivory surface. “Give me ink."

He produced his inking tray and prepared it before holding it out. She rolled the thumb-length seal in the ink, then pressed it to his pad and rolled, leaving an inked design with the archaic character for Bumblebee over a stylized rice flower in an oval, with a crown atop. The crown bore a single gem.

Though he'd never seen this symbol before. Chang-li could understand it easily enough. The Oaken Band Brotherhood's logo, and the crown indicating the girl's own noble rank.

Chang-li turned to Young Master Feng.

"Is this enough for you? Or will you make a mark as well.”

"No one would dare to write my name on a writ of which I do not approve,” Feng sneered.

Chang-li nodded and then stepped back into the circle of observers. Feng and Min did the same as the two combatants came forward.

The cultivator looked arrogant as he slipped into the center of the circle. His hands were loose and open at his side. He wore sandals on his feet and his robes long about his legs, not bothering to tie them back for battle.

The Brotherhood man with his open-sleeved tunic and leggings approached carefully, keeping his arms out and the center of weight low like he was a wrestler planning a grab.

Young Master Feng snorted. "This will not take long. Your man will be dead in three moves."

Min said nothing, merely watched. Brother Stone stopped just outside grappling range of the cultivator. His eyes were fixed on the man's chest and arms. Cultivator Zhang raised his hands. Chang-li could feel the lux circulating in the cultivator. His own heart quickened. He slipped into a cycling pattern of his own, trying to see more clearly what the cultivator was doing.

The man radiated lux. Chang-li's own lux awareness was not heightened enough yet to tell what color, but he could feel it pulsing off him.

Then he realized with a shock that Brother Stone was cycling lux as well. Master Feng gave a startled cry. "You cheat! You are unlicensed!"

"You agreed to this duel!" Min said, a hint of a smile playing across her face.

Chang-li scribbled furiously, remembering his scribe duties at last, keeping up his cycling technique by directing his lux flows with his left hand.

Cultivator Zhang released a technique. A ball of red-tinged lux, barely visible in Chang-li's sight, flew from his hand. It burst over Brother Stone. For a cultivator not even at the Peak of Bodily Refinement, it was impressive. The lux technique washed across Brother Stone like a gentle wave lapping at a rock on the edge of a lake.

The edges of the technique were sloppily defined. They kicked up a wave of dust around Stone’s body, showering the spectators with dirt. Some of the Brotherhood cried out.

Brother Stone grinned. "You will have to do better than that!" he taunted as he stepped forward. He grabbed at the cultivator's waist. Cultivator Zhang slipped aside like a slick brush-handle sliding from his grasp.

Stone cursed and turned. Cultivator Zhang leapt. He kicked at Brother Stone's head as he flew forward in an inhumanly high and fast move.

Brother Stone caught Cultivator Zhang's ankle and threw him to the ground. Chang-li heard the cultivator's leg snap. Cultivator Zhang shrieked. Stone dropped on him elbow first, landing hard against the cultivator's ribs. Cultivator Zhang cried out and lay still.

"Enough!" Min said, stepping forward. Brother Stone stood up.

Young Master Feng strode across the ring. He stared down at the cultivator. The man's eyes were open. Blood trickled between his lips. Chang-li gulped, then stepped forward as well.

"He's dead!" Young Master Feng said, astonishment and dismay on his face. "You!"

“Death is permitted in a witnessed duel,” Min turned to Chang-li. "You witnessed all of that?"

"Yes," he muttered. He turned back to his paper and wrote out the bare ending. Brother Stone killed Cultivator Zhang.

He looked back up. Feng was shaking with fury. "You! You are an unlicensed cultivator!" he said, jabbing his finger at Stone.

The man snorted. "Would I be foolish enough to reveal myself to you if I were?" He turned to Min. "Elder Sister Min, my license?"

She reached inside her robe and produced a small scroll. Its ends were carved wood with a design on them, "The Office of Cultivation." She handed it to Stone, who unrolled it and held it up. Feng looked. He shook his head.

"A forgery!"

"Scribe Chang-li," Min said, crooking a finger to him. She was smiling now. Chang-li should find her expression distasteful, her delight in a man's death disturbing. Yet he didn't. She had done what was best for her Brotherhood, clearly, and she was proud of that. Cultivator Zhang clearly would have done the same to Brother Stone had he been the stronger fighter.

Chang-li glanced at the still-sobbing woman, Sister Lishan. He had no doubt that the woman's accusation was true, that a member of the sect had forced himself on her. It was harsh, but cultivators who considered themselves above the law could be brought to justice only by another cultivator.

He stepped forward and examined Brother Stone's cultivator license. It was good. It was very good. The seal looked authentic. The parchment was the exact shade of ecru it should be, with the tiny silver thread along the side. How had they gotten their hands on that? Even the scribes’ office didn’t have a stash of cultivator license parchment.

Still, there were tiny flaws his expert eye caught. The seal at the bottom, affixed by the Office of Cultivation, should have a subtle metallic sheen to the wax. This was missing. The first character of each line ought to be a tiny bit larger than the rest, but they were all the same size. It would certainly fool an inexpert witness, but Chang-li prided himself on noticing the little details.

He stepped back, turned to Cultivator Young Master Feng, and saw the sneer on his face, the insolence, the arrogance that had gotten multiple dozens of people killed just two days ago.

"It's an authentic license.”

Master Feng stared hatred at him. "You dare contradict me?”

"The scribe attests to the legitimacy of this license," Min said. "This matter is concluded. We are done here.” she beckoned. Her people descended on her.

As they left, the cultivators gathered around their fallen disciple. Chang-li matched strides with Min, not daring to fall behind the protection the Oaken Band offered. "The wax was wrong," he said in a low voice. "I hope you didn't pay too much for that forgery."

"Sounds like I should come to you next time." Her eyes sparkled. "Would you be able to do better?"

"I would,” puffed up with pride, and then followed with, "But I will not. I do not deal in forgeries."

"You don't deal in them yet," Min said. "Wait until you have something you want enough. Thank you for your work tonight. You will be paid according to the scribe's schedule. Please file that in the appropriate place for me.”

“How is a royal lady also the Elder Sister of a brotherhood?” he asked, torn between worry and curiosity.

“Well, when one grandfather is a provincial governor and the other is Eldest Brother of the Oaken Band…” she gave a shrug. “It makes for an interesting childhood, I will say that. Thank you for your help tonight. Should you ever need anything from the Brotherhood, we will remember, Scribe Wu.”

He’d never told her his name. He recalled that only after the brothers left him safely at the scribe’s house.

That was more than a little disturbing.