Chapter 47: The Petition

"Yes, Magistrate," said Ming. "A petition." She knelt on the stone floor and opened her writing box. She took out her grandfather's inkstone first, and set it on the floor beside her, and then the water dropper, and the ink cake, and began to grind. Slowly. Not too hard. The sound of it, the soft circling scrape of ink on stone, was loud in the silent hall. Somewhere behind her a dead clerk shifted his feet. "Recorder," said Wen pleasantly, "the Bench is waiting." "Yes, Magistrate. I'm grinding the ink." At his small table to the right of the Bench, Inspector Zhou kept his eyes on his sheet. But his brush, which had been resting on its stand, was in his hand. When the ink was ready she took out the petition. Three pages on Dragon Spring white, in her best hand, which was still not a good hand. She…