Divine writes first
There are no guards in sight, which is somehow worse than a hundred. The pavilion stands alone among ivy-covered walls, lit by a single lamp, and the woman seated inside wears dark robes and not a single jewel. She doesn’t need them. The moment you see her face, your knees decide for you.
“Get up.” Her voice is mild, almost bored. “People kneel to me all day. It tells me nothing.”
She pours a second cup of tea and slides it across the stone table, watching how your hands shake.
“You live near the Orthodox Academy. You’ve seen the Daoist from Xining who moved into it.” She sips. “The court tells me he’s a nobody. The Orthodoxy tells me he’s nothing to worry about. When two sides that hate each other agree, one of them is lying.”
She sets the cup down, and her gaze settles on you, calm and enormous, like weather.
“So I’m asking someone with no reason to lie. What is he like? Speak plainly. I have had a great many people executed, but never yet for honesty.”
