"We are nearly finished with our business here," Wen said, then held up a placatory hand as the judge began to fume. "It's nothing significant, Excellency. I just need you to add a sentence informing any reader that everything you've dictated should be done as if you had actually written it yourself. After all, this is a new clerk, and some unfortunates may not be familiar with his calligraphy."
"There's no room on the page," the clerk said, his voice trembling. "I'll have to write it again!"
"No need for that," said Wen, smoothly interrupting the clerk's whine and forestalling the explosion he saw building on the judge's face. "You should learn, my friend, that your magistrate is too important to be compelled to deal with such trifles. Just write the required sentence on a new page. I don't mind carrying the extra paper"—he bowed his head as an indication that the sacrifice he was making was, indeed, minor when set against his respect for the magistrate—"and this way we can more quickly let this court return to its duties. Oh," he added, "don't forget to get the seals on that second page, as well."
The judge grumbled, but there wasn't much he could in the face of such flattery. "You're finished, now?" he asked. "Because if you aren't..." Wen nodded, furiously. Done and done, he thought. The judge frowned. "I don't really see that all this was necessary. Still, it will be good to have this irregularity dealt with before the General—before any word can spread. If you should"—he paused, swallowed, glanced around and then resumed—"When you resolve this issue to our satisfaction, there is no need for you to revisit this department. Simply prepare a report, in triplicate, and then burn all three copies in separate braziers. We will deal with the filing ourselves."
Wen collected the new second page—it was still warm to the touch, and like its companion smelled alternately of sandalwood and sulfur—and bowed. "I will not let you down, Excellency," he said.
Before the judge could inquire as to the exact meaning of that promise, Wen had hurried Fengzi and his grandfathers out of the courtroom.
"This is not good," said Number One Grandfather. "My own experience in hell was simple and predictable, and there was no need for passes or special investigations or anything untoward. We should not be drawing attention to ourselves."
"More to the point, said Grandfather Chun, "my son seems to have vanished from hell entirely. If two separate departments cannot find him, what hope do we have that any other department can? Especially as we are forbidden from attempting to contact the most senior judge, the General of the Mirror of Retribution."
"Trust me," said Number One Grandfather, "you do not want to have to approach Magistrate Qin Guang in any fashion. I heard of a ghost once who tried to appeal a sentence passed by the judge. They're still trying to reassemble the bits of him, hundreds of years later."
"Don't worry," said Wen, "I don't think it will be necessary to approach any of the judges."
"What I want to know," Fengzi said, looking directly into Wen's eyes, "is what all that fuss was about with the second page. You know as well as I do, Wen, that the magistrate's seal is more than enough to have the pass obeyed. Why did you risk making him angry?"
"Let's find a pavilion, and some brushes and ink," Wen said, "and then I'll explain."
No comments:
Post a Comment