Winter descended on Daling City. The accounts were short by 3,200 jin of public firewood, and the order to shut the furnaces fell on the Seventh Furnace Workshop.
His master had been taken away, and the beds in the South Street infirmary were growing cold. Apprentice Shen Yan won himself two hours to find out, before the furnaces were sealed, where the fire meant for the neighborhood had gone.
While inspecting the old pipes, he heard a human voice coming from a warm shard of pottery.
The voice had long since faded, yet it remained in the clay that had been fired. It would give up only half a sentence, and would not tell him who had spoken or when. Each time Shen Yan listened, his right ear became a little worse at hearing the people in front of him.
With a short ruler in hand, he descended into the tunnels, repaired the vats, traced the pipes to find the missing fire, then investigated each fragment he heard until it became solid evidence that could be presented at the table.
Some wanted him to accept the blame for the missing fire. Others put his master's name on a new inspection form.
But beneath that sheet of paper lay the furnace fire that would keep an entire street warm through the winter.
