My lungs burned. Black spots danced at the edge of my vision. My hands clawed uselessly at the unyielding steel of his vambrace. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Layla's pained gasp from the floor.

  “Save… her,” I choked out, the words scraping my throat. My vision was tunneling. “And I will.”

  For a long, terrible moment, there was only the crushing pressure. The Steward's eyes bored into mine, weighing my defiance, my utility, my life. The pressure eased, just enough for a ragged breath.

  “A foolish sentiment,” he said, his voice dropping to a silken whisper that was somehow more menacing than his rage. He released me. I clattered to the ground and I gasped for air as the world swam back into focus. The Steward did not spare me another glance. He glided to where Layla lay.

  He knelt, and his movements became a blur of impossible precision. Two stiff fingers tapped points along her spine, at the base of her skull, and along her broken leg. Layla gasped in surprise at the lack of pain, her body going limp as the Dianxue points sealed her lower meridians. Thousand-Coil Silken Hand technique I recognised, holding her and her leg, immobilized as if held in a precise vice. With a single, fluid motion, he rose, carrying her as if she weighed nothing, her head resting against his shoulder, her face pale.

  “We are leaving, to the Spirit Stone temple ten li east” I commanded as I made my way to my feet, the only thought in my mind was to find a physician.

  As we moved towards the moon gate, the Jade Grotto's owner scrambled to his feet behind us, his face a mess of terror and desperate greed. “Wait! She's my property! Her contract is worth a fortune! You cannot simply…”

  I tried to form a retort, a threat, but my mind was slow through a fog of exhaustion. The silver in my pouch felt pitifully light against the debt he was about to claim. Layla pointed a weak finger towards a tile in the room, I smashed the tile with a fist and saw a small stack of gold within. A fortune, but nothing close to Layla's price. I looked back and Layla laid unconscious in the Steward's arms.

  Before I could speak, a cool, clear young female voice cut through the din. “A broken dancer… is worthless.”

  The cloaked girl, who had been a silent shadow beside Xiao Qi, stepped forward into the light, dropping her hood as she did, revealing bright, obsidian eyes that I swore I'd seen somewhere before. She moved with an unnerving confidence and pulled two exquisite jade hairpins from her hair. The pair were carved in the shape of phoenixes, their green depths were pure and a pair of central stones on either of them seemed to glow with an inner light.

  “These, however, are not,” she continued, her voice devoid of any emotion. She placed the hairpins onto the ground at the owner's feet. Seeing him hesitate she badgered him “Take this deal. If you wait any longer, you will be paying silver to have her buried.”

  Wei Jin took a half-step forward seemingly to rebuke her harsh words, but Xiao Qi's hand shot out and gripped his arm, whispering urgently. Wei Jin froze and nodded slowly.

  The owner stared at the hairpins, his greed warring with his fear. The girl pressed her advantage. “Her contract,” she said, her voice flat and final. “Now.”

  Scrambling, the owner produced a rolled scroll from an elegant case he unlocked with a key, the MaiShenQi, Layla's deed of indenture. He held it out with a trembling hand and the girl deftly snatched it away. Then, to my complete and utter bewilderment, she turned and pressed the scroll not into my hands, but into Wei Jin's.

  “She is yours now,” the girl practically sang. She glanced back at me. For a fraction of a second, I confusingly saw a sparkle of mischief and glee she was clearly failing to suppress. “Take good care of her.”

  Wei Jin looked down at the scroll in his hand, then at the unconscious Layla on the Steward's back.

  We left the Grotto without another word, a strange, grim procession moving through the waking streets. The Steward, still carrying Layla, leapt onto the rooftops and vanished instantly from view, traveling towards the east.

  We made for the city gates. The morning sun was just beginning to touch the highest rooftops, painting the sky in shades of pearl and rose. At the gate, a City Guard sergeant, seeing my armor, stepped forward to stop us. Then he saw my face.

  “Officer Zhang,” he said, his posture immediately snapping into a crisp salute. “Commander Sun mentioned you might have a minor errand this morning. A safe journey to you, sir.”

  He waved us through without a second glance. Another gift from an awesome superior.

  The Spirit Stone temple was a refuge of cleanof grey stone and weathered timber nestled in a quiet grove of bamboo and pine. I greeted Jìngxī and Língzhú, with a bow as we filed into the main courtyard, a figure in clean white robes emerged from the shadows of the main hall. He was a surprisingly young man, his face calm and serious, carrying a heavy leather bundle.

  “You're late,” was all he said, direct, no-nonsense. Wang Er, who had been missing before peeked out from within the temple hall.

  Lu Chengfeng, the stoic commander of the Wolves, strode out and took in the view. To my surprise he walked up, not to me, but to the cloaked girl. He gave her a deep, formal bow, his voice resonating with a respect that bordered on reverence.

  "Xiao Jie," he said. "We await your orders."

  The girl simply nodded, her attention already on the grim task at hand. Before I could even begin to process the implications of Lu's deference, the young physician took command of the scene.

  “Inside,” he ordered, gesturing towards the main hall, where several of the none-injured Wolves had already cleared a space and laid out clean blankets where Layla had already laid, deposited by the Steward just now. He'd likely taken a longer path, but one clear from prying eyes. “And clear the room. I need light, boiled wine, clean water, and silence. You,” he pointed a slender, steady finger at Wei Jin, “You will assist me. The rest of you are covered in the filth of the road. You will wait outside.”

  We obeyed without question. The Physician stopped Rana at the door. "Her injuries are severe. I will need to cut away her robes. It is better if you are the one to assist with that. Then you will wait outside with the others."

  Through the open doorway, I saw him work with a terrifying, calm efficiency. He washed his hands and instruments meticulously in a basin of steaming, boiled wine. He had Wei Jin and Rana carefully cut away the ruined silk of Layla's gown, exposing the brutal, swollen mess of her back and the sickening angle of her broken leg. He examined the wounds with a detached, clinical eye, probing the flesh with a silver needle to check for sensation.

  “Traction,” he commanded. He instructed a horrified but resolute Wei Jin on how to grip Layla's ankle and shoulder, and on his count, they pulled. There was a faint, grating sound, then a soft but distinct click as the bone ends were realigned. The Physician's hands moved with deft certainty, massaging the surrounding muscle, his expression one of intense concentration.

  He then produced a familiar dark, thick plaster from his satchel, the same Black Jade Plaster I had been treated with before. He warmed it over a small brazier before applying it generously to her back. For her leg, he took two perfectly straight lengths of polished poplar wood and thick pads of clean cotton. He carefully set the splint, ensuring her leg was perfectly aligned, before binding it all tightly with clean linen strips.

  When he finally emerged, wiping his hands on a clean cloth, the sun was high in the sky.

  “She will live,” he stated simply, his gaze falling on Wei Jin. “The bones are set relatively clean. The plaster will prevent infection and speed the healing of the flesh. She will need to remain completely immobile for several months, and it will be half a year before she can put her full weight on that leg. She will likely never dance again.” He paused, his sharp eyes met mine. “My fee is five hundred taels of silver. Seeing as your assets are likely… frozen… I will accept payment when your situation is more liquid.”

  He packed his bundle, gave a curt nod, and was gone, leaving a profound silence in his wake.

  The adrenaline that had sustained me for two days finally drained away, leaving a hollow, aching void. The world began to sway, and the weight of my armor felt like a mountain. I walked into a side hall, where I was overlooked by a stone figure of Lao Zi.

  “Xiao Qi,” I rasped, leaning heavily against a temple pillar. “Help me with this.”

  He rushed to my side, his face etched with worry, and began the slow, arduous process of unbuckling straps and lifting the heavy plates. The lamellar cuirass came off with a groan of protesting leather, and the relief was so immense I nearly collapsed. As he worked on the gorget at my neck, I finally voiced the question that had been burning in my mind.

  “Xiao Qi… the girl. The one with the hairpins. Who is she?”

  He paused, his fingers fumbling with a buckle. “She… she is the young lady who comes to the shop, Master. The one I told you about.” He looked up at me, his expression as baffled as my own. “I know nothing else. She was in the shop with me this morning when Rana showed up… Steward Feng found us as we were on our way to the Jade Grotto from Censor Wang's estate.”

  My mind, thick with exhaustion, tried to grasp the puzzle, to fit the pieces together. The ink stains on her fingers… confidence… wealth…

  Before I could finish my thought and Xiao Qi could remove the last of my armor I fell into the abyss of sleep still leaned against the pillar.

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