Rainwater from the night before pooled on the bluestone slabs of the western market's back alley. Chen Wuya stepped through a puddle without slowing. In his hand, he clutched a letter sealed with wax, its seal bearing a cloud-patterned sword. The edges were slightly rough—a Qingfeng Sect token hastily forged overnight. Bai Zhi followed half a step behind him, her cloak pulled low, a packet of fragrant powder hidden in her sleeve.
"The spy just entered the side gate of the Chancellor's residence," Chen Wuya said in a low voice. "He'll be out within three quarters of an hour."
Bai Zhi nodded and took a small cloth pouch from her robes, handing it to him. "This is the incense commonly used at the northern posthouse—the batch Mo Feng left behind."
Chen Wuya accepted it, pinched open a corner, and lightly flicked some onto the seam of the envelope. The fragrance was exceedingly faint, carrying a trace of cold pine mingled with leather—the very scent that had lingered on the spy a few days ago. He wrapped the letter again and handed it to Bai Zhi.
"Disguise yourself as an apothecary boy and intercept him at the eastern alley entrance. Remember, say only that 'Grey Kite is submitting supplementary documents.' Don't say anything else."
Bai Zhi raised her eyes to him. "What if he doesn't believe it?"
"He will." The corner of Chen Wuya's mouth twitched. "Those greedy for merit don't fear danger—they fear missing their chance. He brought back the bronze plate last night, so today he'll be desperate to claim credit. At a time like this, 'supplementary intelligence' will only make us seem more credible."
Bai Zhi asked no more. Turning, she headed off along the base of the wall. Chen Wuya retreated into a narrow alley, leaned against