A bitter river wind swept across the Xun River, snapping the banners on the tower ship and lending the deck an especially murderous chill.
By the rail, Ma San reached into his robe and pulled out two reddish-brown stones. Their surfaces were rough and streaked with dark red veins. They were Red Sandstone, found only in the outlying Yanshan Mountains north of Tianjin.
The stone was brittle and crumbled after too long in water. It was neither too heavy nor too light. Tossed into this stretch of the Xun River, with its silty, sandy bed, it would stand out at a glance from the pebbles and greenstone there.
"Little Zhao."
Ma San did not turn around. He simply tossed the two pieces of Red Sandstone behind him. "Catch."
Ghost Scale Zhao, who had been waiting behind him, hurried forward and caught them in both hands.
"You go sink these two stones beneath the pier up ahead."
Ma San pointed toward the faint outline of the pier in the distance. "Remember, put them at the foot of the deepest piling. Weigh them down with something so the undercurrent doesn't carry them off."
"Got it. Rest easy, Third Master."
Ghost Scale Zhao tucked the stones into his robe, turned, and jumped onto a small sampan tied alongside the tower ship.
The tide was going out, and a northwesterly wind blew across the river. He would have to row against both wind and current.
Ghost Scale Zhao was an old hand. His sampan rose and fell among the waves as he worked the oar, yet held a steady course. Speed, though, was another matter.
Everyone watched from high on the tower ship.
On an ordinary day, those two li of river took no more than the time it took to drink a cup