Wen had, he realized, become very interested in the precise details of the downfall and overthrow of the Ming. But he couldn't afford to indulge himself, not so long as his father's fate condemned him to the sort of luck that had placed him in Chin Gwai's and Governor Li's hands. "No, not either confession or sentencing," Wen said hurriedly. "My position in the administration here is quite secure and I'm very happy to have it, truly I am. No, Excellency, I'm here because I'm sorry to have to report that an error has been made and I believe that you have the information necessary to correct it."
"An error?!" The judge seemed to lift into the air, snake-like hair flailing. "You are accusing my court of an error? You horrible little man, I'll have your skin for a prophylactic and your bones for toothpicks if you dare to accuse me or my staff of anything untoward or outside the limits prescribed by my office!"
"No!" Wen realized too late that he probably shouldn't have shouted. But at least it stopped that horrible hair from flailing around. "I'm sorry if the most excellent and learned judge got the wrong impression. I said an error had been made; I did not mean that anyone associated with this court had made an error. What I meant"—and what I actually said, you octo-follicular idiot, he added silently—"is that your excellency is learned and wise enough to possess the information necessary to correct an error made by another jurisdiction." He turned up his palms in what he hoped would be seen as a form of supplication.
"Who made this error?"
"I would really rather not say."
"What you would rather doesn't enter into it, wretch. You are in my court and you will do what I say. Now, tell me: who is responsible for the error you are asking me to correct?"
"Might I have your Excellency's permission to approach him?"
The judge grinned. Wen felt his legs turn to rice-porridge. "This," the judge said to his clerk, "is going to be good. Come," he said, waving an arm to Wen. It was unfortunate that the arm ended in a pair of jagged thumb-screws.
"I am grateful," Wen said in his deepest, softest voice, "that your Excellency has granted my insignificant person this great favor. It is just that the risk to my own position, and those of my supervisors, is so large if word of this should get out. And I don't understand it, really, because it was such a minor error, and the human in question is of so little significance that I'm amazed anyone even noticed."
"Stop babbling," said the judge in a voice like poison, "and tell me who made the mistake."
"The General Judge of the Mirror of Retribution."
The judge's laughter nearly split the room in half.
"How wonderful!" he shouted when he was finally able to regain breath. The guards at either end of the dais continued to look straight ahead, but Wen was certain that one of them was snickering. "That beast Qin Guang has been a thorn in my side for millennia. To have him make such an elementary mistake—say, what was the mistake, anyway?"
Wen suppressed a sigh of relief. Part one of the plan seemed to have succeeded. "One of his clerks has failed to record the destination of a misfiled human soul. Name of Wen Gang, current classification unknown but supposed to be a hungry ghost thanks to an ignorant and willful son who refused to perform the rituals."
"Oh, nice," said the judge. "I think we'll be seeing that one, when the time comes." By now the clerk had arrived to join the impromptu conference around the dais. "Clerk," said the judge, "do you know of this human Wen Gang?"
The clerk stared up at the ceiling and hummed for a moment. "Yes, Excellency. Came through here about a moon ago. The messenger's right: he'd been misfiled. Had no paperwork at all with him, which ought to have meant that he was made a hungry ghost, just as the messenger says."
"If he came through here, he wasn't a hungry ghost. What happened?"
"We think," said Wen, "that the admitting clerk made the actual error that sent him here. Our concern is with a breakdown in communication once your Excellency had dealt with him. It's the next stage in his journey that we're concerned about."
"Clerk?" The clerk had just opened his mouth to speak when money began to fall from the ceiling. Large amounts of it. Thank you, One-Eyed Lum, Wen said to himself. The paper currency was nothing Wen had ever seen before, but from the looks on the faces of the clerk and guards, it was familiar enough down here. At least that was the interpretation Wen chose to put on the hideous expressions he saw.
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