When dew still clung to the blades in the herb garden, Ling Yue was already at work. He had just watered the newly planted dong quai when he saw Tom sprinting from town, panic on his face, mud on his trouser cuffs, sweat beading his brow.
"Ling Yue! Bad news!" Tom seized his arm, voice shaking. "Grey—Grey really reported you! Someone just saw the 'Heretic Investigation Squad' carriage enter town, the Magic Council's black banner on it. Grey's escorting a man in a black cloak this way!"
The watering can clanged to the ground, water spreading through the soil and soaking the fresh seeds. He snapped his head toward the gate; dust plumed in the distance, and the dull thud of hooves carried—one of the Council's special carriages, its wheels etched with anti-magic sigils, made to seize those who used "heretical power."
"They're saying you use dark power—and that you… you planned to poison the town!" Lily ran up too, clutching her apprentice badge, face pale. "I eavesdropped near the clinic—the cloaked Inquisitor said they'll take you to the Council for judgment and burn your herb garden!"
Ling Yue's heart sank. He did not fear doubt; he feared the squad striking first and asking later. The Magic Council was harsh with "non-magical power," and in a world that exalted magic, "Eastern herbs" were easily branded "dark heresy." Worse, if he were taken, his trail to memory would break—and Tom, Lily, even all of Brookwood might be dragged down with him.
"Ling Yue, run!" Tom shoved him toward the trees. "Go south through Eldermyst Forest—you'll reach the Free City-States. The Council has no say there! I'll lead them off!"
"No." Ling Yue stayed his hand. "They carry anti-magic sigils—you can't stop them and you'll get yourself seized instead. And if I flee, they'll think the town is sheltering me. Everyone will pay."
"Then what? We can't just watch you be taken!" Lily was near tears, eyes glassy. "If only I'd gone to the clinic with you yesterday—I could've testified!"
Just then, shouts rose in the distance and hooves clicked on the stone road. Ling Yue drew a long breath, picked up the can, wiped the dirt from his hands. "Don't panic. I'll go with them. But first, I need to see the mayor."
He headed for the mayor's house at a run, Tom and Lily tight behind. Villagers they passed wore worried looks; a few moved to help, but Ling Yue stopped them with a shake of his head—he would not drag innocents into this.
Irene had just heard and was pacing at the door. When she saw him, she hurried to meet him. "Ling Yue, go now! I've had a cart readied. Out the back you can avoid the squad!"
"Mayor, I can't." He met her eyes, steady. "They've come for me. If I run, the town takes the heat. And—I need you to keep something safe." He drew out Travels in the East and the half black-jade pendant and handed them over. "These are key to my past. Hide them. When this settles, I'll return for them."
Irene glanced from his hands to the nearing black banner, eyes reddening. "Child, at a time like this you're thinking of that? Those men are mad—they won't hear you out!"
"I know. I have to try." He pressed the items into her hands. "And in my garden there's dong quai and sweet wormwood. If I don't return, please have Tom and the others tend them. They'll cure many ills—useful to the town."
"Ling Yue!" Tom choked on the words. "Don't go! We'll find another way!"
Ling Yue patted his shoulder, glanced at Lily, and managed a faint smile. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. Remember what the travelogue said? Eastern shaman-physicians are best at finding a path out of dead ends."
He turned toward the square, his steps firm, without a hitch. Tom and Lily moved to follow, but Irene stopped them. "Let him go. What we can do now is keep his things safe—and wait for a chance to help."
As Ling Yue entered the square, he saw the squad's carriage: black, its wheels cut with silver anti-magic sigils. Four cloaked figures stood beside it. Their leader was a broad man with a scar across his face, eyes like ice, a staff set with black crystal in hand—the Inquisitor. Grey stood at his side, smirking. He pointed at Ling Yue and cried, "Inquisitor, that's him! He uses dark herbs to heal and refuses Council certification!"
The Inquisitor's gaze raked Ling Yue. His voice was glacial. "You are the foreigner who practices with heretical power?"
"I use herbs, not dark power," Ling Yue replied evenly. "Tom and little Jack are here in town. They can testify my herbs harmed no one—and saved their lives."
"Testify?" The Inquisitor scoffed and raised his staff; the black crystal at its head glimmered. "By the Council's law, non-magical power is heresy. No testimony required. Men—seize him for judgment at the Council! Burn his garden and that bronze box!"
Two squadmen strode forward with chains etched in anti-magic runes, moving to bind him.
"Stop!" A voice rang out—Old Hank. Leaning on his cane, he stepped from the crowd with Martha and a dozen villagers behind. "Inquisitor, Mr. Ling Yue is a good man. He saved little Jack and cured my cough. His herbs are no heresy!"
"Right! He's harmed no one!" Voices rose all around as the villagers closed ranks, blocking the squadmen's path.
The Inquisitor's face darkened; the crystal on his staff flared brighter. "You would harbor a heretic? Remember—harboring heresy is the same crime."
They flinched, but no one fled. Martha stood in front with Jack in her arms. "We're not harboring—we're telling the truth! If Mr. Ling Yue is a heretic, then we who were healed by him—are we all accomplices?"
Little Jack peeked out and piped to the Inquisitor, "Sir, Brother Ling Yue is good. His medicine isn't bitter, and it made me better…"
The Inquisitor's eyes flickered—he hadn't expected this many voices. He turned on Grey, sharp. "Did you not say he was a heretic with no support?"
Grey's face went mottled. "My lord, they've been bewitched by this outsider's trickery! Don't heed them—take him!"
Warmth rose in Ling Yue's chest. He hadn't expected villagers who barely knew him to defy the squad for his sake. He stepped forward. "Inquisitor, I'll go with you—but on one condition."
"You're in no position to bargain," the Inquisitor said coldly.
"I know. But it benefits the Council too." Ling Yue's gaze was unwavering. "I'll go to the Council and prove before the councillors that my herbs are not dark power. If I can't, do with me as you will. If I can, you must withdraw the charge, clear my name, and allow me to practice in Brookwood."
The Inquisitor blinked, surprised by the terms. He weighed it—no way this man could overturn "non-magic equals heresy" before the Council, and it would make him look "fair." He nodded. "Agreed. But if you play me false, your death will be ugly."
Ling Yue said no more and let them cuff his wrists in rune-etched chains. The sigils pressed cold to his skin, but his mind was clear. This was a high-stakes wager—but for his name, for those who trusted him, and for his past, he had to make it.
Tom and Lily stood in the crowd and, as Ling Yue was led to the carriage, their tears finally fell. Irene came to them, gripping the travelogue and jade. "Don't despair. We won't let harm come to him. I've sent word to friends in the Free City-States—they may help. And I believe in Ling Yue. He will clear his name."
The carriage jolted into motion and rolled for the gate. From within, Ling Yue watched Brookwood recede, watched the newly sown plots beyond the palisade, and promised in silence: Wait for me. I will return.
Outside, Grey watched the carriage's retreating back and let a cruel smile curl his lips—he had no intention of letting Ling Yue reach the Council alive. On the road, an "accident" was already arranged to erase this troublesome outsider forever.