Текст книги "Soundless"

Автор книги: Richelle Mead

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

All of them? I ask, thinking I misunderstood. What do you mean?

The men who run the line, she explains. There are a number who rotate through that job.

Li Wei and I are dumbfounded, and he says, We always thought there was one person in charge there, one person making decisions and sending notes.

Nuan laughs, a thin sound that feels dry. No, they don’t make decisions. Whoever was sending you messages was someone much more powerful.

I think back to the nervous man and suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to learn this.

They will all know you’re in the township by now, Nuan continues. The gate will be watched. There is a secret entrance out of the walls, not far from this encampment, that I can show you. If you stick to the trees and keep your wits about you, you should be able to make it back to your people undetected.

Li Wei and I both stand to bow to her. Maybe we are far from home, but we aren’t bereft of our manners. Thank you, I tell her with as much reverence as I would one of our elders. You may have saved our lives and those of our people. Please allow us to give you a gift.

I look to Li Wei, who understands immediately. Perhaps Nuan’s situation isn’t as dire as our village’s, but it’s clear from her gaunt appearance that food is a luxury for her as well. Our packs are full of the food we took from the line keeper’s crate, and Li Wei digs into his bag, producing some fruit, dried meat, and a bun. Nuan’s wide eyes show us that this is a bounty for her, and I feel gladdened but also sad. Clearly, for the right people around here, there is plenty of food to be had. It infuriates me that her people and my own are so deprived.

As Li Wei cinches his pack back together, one of the xiangqi pieces falls out, a general. It rolls near Nuan, and she picks it up, studying the detail.

This is fine work, she says as she hands it back. I’ve seen far less detailed game sets fetching a nice price at the market. This kind of skill would be prized anywhere in Beiguo.

Li Wei made it, I say with pride.

It is nothing, he says, embarrassed. Fei is the real artist.

He busies himself with his pack, pretending it needs more rearranging than it does. Nuan watches him with a smile and then says to me, when he’s not looking: He’s very handsome. He’s your betrothed?

Now I’m the one who’s embarrassed. I feel heat flood my cheeks. No! We are just . . . friends.

There is a knowing look in Nuan’s eyes. If you want to save yourselves a lot of trouble, you could leave now. Forget trying to warn your village—the officials will stop you from getting back, you know. And they’ll certainly stop your whole village from leaving the mountain. But just the two of you? Well, there are other cities, other places in Beiguo. The boy clearly has skill, and you say you are trained as well. You can find work, real work. Go off together and leave this cursed place.

What she has suggested is so shocking, so unbelievable, that I’m momentarily frozen. Then new sounds make me jerk my head around. One thing I can say, at least, for this dirty collection of tents is that it is quieter than the rest of the township, since none of the residents use their voices. But now that quiet is interrupted as I recognize the sounds of many loud voices as well as a new noise I just learned: the sound of horses’ hooves on the road.

Someone is coming. Men and horses, I say.

We hurry to peek out the entrance of the tent, where I heard the noise. There, on the far side of where we entered the deaf settlement, riders on horseback are approaching. I am just barely tall enough to make them out and see that they wear red-and-yellow armor.

Those are the king’s men! Nuan says. They know you’re here. Someone probably reported you when you came to see me—they are my people, but they are desperate. You must go. Quickly. Over there, by that gray building? Go there, turn left, and then go straight until you reach the wall. Make another left and follow it until you see the opening.

Thank you. I bow to her again and start to leave, but she catches my sleeve.

You heard them coming? she asks. You can hear?

Only as of a few days ago, I say. I don’t know why or how.

The next sign she makes is incomprehensible to me, something involving wings.

What? I ask.

She makes it again, but I still can’t understand. The sign isn’t one from our language. Li Wei starts to reach for the stick we used to draw characters, but the sound of men and horses is getting closer. I shake my head and tell him, No time. We must go.

Nuan looks distraught, like she has more to tell us, but I can only shake my head at her and offer hurried thanks. Without a glance back at her, Li Wei and I dash off through the tents, heading toward the building Nuan indicated. The sound of men and horses is getting closer, but they aren’t able to see us as well as we can see them, giving us a head start. Her directions are easy enough to follow, and we soon find the gap she means. There’s a part in the wall where it joins to a watchtower. The two are made of different kinds of wood, and with time and weather, the seam has warped and split. A small space has been created, one that looks man-made, just big enough for one person to get through. It is an easy fit for me but takes some maneuvering for Li Wei, and he tears his shirt in the process.

Once we are both out, I hear shouts from above and look up. We may have escaped the guards in Nuan’s camp, but the ones on this watchtower have seen us. Our only saving grace is that it will take them time to get down and out. That buys us faint, precious time, and we cannot linger, especially when a few arrows come shooting down after us.

Without another backward glance, Li Wei and I run for our lives into the woods.

CHAPTER 13

ONCE, WHEN I WAS A CHILD, some older kids in our village got it into their heads to steal lunches from the younger children. It only lasted a few days before some adults got wind of the bullies and put an end to it. But one of those days, I bravely sneaked into the part of the woods where the thieves were lording over their hoard, snatched a bunch of the lunches back, and took off running. It was one of the most terrifying chases of my life. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. I didn’t have a chance to think about where I was going; I only knew I had to get away, to run as far and as fast as I could.

Outrunning the soldiers reminds me a lot of that day, with one exception: That childhood race was silent. This isn’t.

My hearing is both a blessing and a curse as Li Wei and I desperately run for our lives. On the one hand, I can tell how close our pursuers are, whether they are gaining ground. But sound also adds to the terror of the chase. Having an extra set of stimuli increases my panic, making an already stressful situation that much worse. It’s hard to focus and think coherently.

Li Wei stops after some time, breathing heavily and rubbing his ankle. I wonder if it still hurts from his fall, but I know he’ll deny it if I ask. Perhaps we’ve lost them, he says.

I shake my head, still able to hear men and horses. Scanning, I point in what I think is the opposite direction of our pursuers. There. We must go there.

To Li Wei, all this forested area looks the same, but he trusts me enough to go without question. We take off again, running until my muscles burn and I am forced to stop and take in big gulps of air. Peering around, I realize the only sounds I hear are those I’ve come to associate with any forest: rustling leaves and birds calling. I look to Li Wei, who is bent over, hands resting on his knees as he too catches his breath.

I don’t hear them, I say, watching him again nurse his ankle. I think we’ve lost them. Are you okay?

He waves me off. Fine, fine. I just need a minute.

We should hurry and begin climbing back, I tell him. We have to reach our people.

His smile fades, and he shakes his head. Fei, that’s impossible. We’ve lost them for now, but they’re almost certainly going to go scout around the cliffs, expecting us to climb back. We won’t be able to get far enough before they find us. They’ll shoot us down with arrows. You thought the climb down was slow and painstaking? Going up is doubly so.

I frown. What are you saying then? How are we going to help them?

We aren’t, he states. We can’t get back up, and even if we could . . . Fei, I know you think—you hope—the elders will spur our village into action and make them leave for some new future. But do you really believe that? Think logically, not with an artist’s imagination. Our people are fearful and know nothing of the world. They won’t leave. They won’t believe us.

Then what are we supposed to do? I demand, stunned at this turn.

Go. He pauses and spreads his arms wide. Anywhere. Anywhere we want to in Beiguo. Or outside of it. I saw what Nuan said about my carving. We are skilled. We can get out of here, join a group of travelers at the inn, and go some place far away, somewhere we can eat well every day and earn enough to wear silk. Someplace you can listen to music and do the art you truly want to do. Someplace where love is not dictated by our jobs—jobs that have been forced on us by others.

His words send me reeling, but one in particular catches me. Love? I ask.

In a moment, he has closed the distance between us. An intensity burns in his eyes like I’ve never seen before. Yes, Fei. Love. I loved you the moment you looked up at me so defiantly from the ruins of that broken shed. I loved you all the years we spent growing up together. I loved you when you told me you were leaving to join the artists. Throughout it all, my heart has only ever had one person’s name on it—yours. And you can talk all you want about rank and how we can’t be together, but I know you love me too.

I raise my hands and actually think I might be able to convincingly deny it. But my hands tremble, and something in my face tells him the truth—that I love him too, have loved him since that beautiful, glittering boy came to my rescue. A boy who’s now become a man of passionate conviction, a pillar of strength at my side.

Then, before I realize what is happening, Li Wei pulls me to him and kisses me. Back when he nearly kissed me at the inn, he was timid and cautious. No more. There is a power and certainty in what he does as our bodies meld together and I lose myself in that kiss. Once I felt like I had too many senses, now I suddenly feel as though they’ve all disappeared. I hear nothing. I see nothing. All I’m aware of in the world at that moment is the feel of his lips on mine. It is dizzying and exhilarating, somehow leaving me both hot and cold all over and filling me up from my head to my toes with emotions that are as foreign to me as new sounds.

When we briefly break apart, I am breathless. I feel as though I am seeing the world with new eyes now that I’m no longer trying to convince myself I don’t care about him. Opening myself to my feelings and the truth has freed me. Li Wei kisses me again. I’m a little more prepared—but only a little. That kiss floods me with heat and longing as well as a renewed sense of hope and purpose.

I’ve waited a long time for that, he tells me. And I should have done it sooner. This is fate. You and me. Come on—let’s go. Let’s circle around and follow the road leading out of the township. We’ll go wherever it takes us. There is nothing left for us in the village.

I have spent much of my life dreaming, imagining things that aren’t but could be. It is how I create my art. But this possibility facing me now is something I never dared hope for, that I could go off with this boy I’ve long loved, that we could live a dazzling life in which I could use my art to capture beauty instead of despair. It is heady and wonderful, and I want it so badly. I want to leave behind the darkness of our past and move forward to a future filled with beauty and sound and joy. . . .

Li Wei, I can’t, I say.

Fei . . . you can’t tell me you don’t love me.

You’re right, I can’t tell you that, I agree. Because I do love you. But it’s not that simple.

Nothing could be simpler, he insists.

You said there is nothing left for us in the village, but you’re wrong. My sister is there. I can’t leave her. I stop to take a deep breath and steel myself. How is it possible to have gone from such joy to such sorrow in the blink of an eye? For a moment, I felt like I had the world. Now I feel as though I’m losing it. If you don’t want to go back, I understand. You can go off and find that new life. But I have to go back for Zhang Jing, no matter how difficult.

He shakes his head vehemently. No, we can’t be separated again. We must talk—we must figure this out—

A noise from the forest forces me to quickly turn around. I peer into the depths of the trees, back in the direction we came from. I see nothing yet, but there’s no mistaking it: the sounds of the soldiers. They’re getting louder—closer.

They’ve tracked us, I tell Li Wei. A new panic seizes me, and as impossible as it seems, I’m forced to momentarily push aside all these conflicting feelings for him as survival mode takes precedence.

We probably left a trail as we ran, he says, face hard and serious once more. Which way are they? I point toward the sound, and he studies me for several long moments, deliberation all over his features. At last, he seems to come to a difficult decision. Okay, let’s go back to the mountain.

He takes my hand, and we run once again. The forest thins, and the terrain begins to rise as we reach the mountain’s base. We stop, and he points at something off to our right. The light is fading as dusk sets in, but I can still clearly see what he indicates: the supply line.

You want to get back to the village? That line is the only way, Li Wei says.

That’s impossible, I state.

He smiles ruefully. Look what we’ve done so far. We’re pretty good at the impossible.

The line can’t hold us, I protest. Plus, someone’s going to have to turn the crank to move the line. I don’t think the line keeper’s going to help us.

No, Li Wei concurs, his expression troubled as he gazes toward the line’s summit. After a few more seconds, he takes a deep breath. You’ll go, he states. Alone.

How does that change anything? I demand. It still can’t hold me. I weigh more than thirty kilos!

It’ll be close, he says. But I’ve lifted the shipments sent down the line. I’ve lifted you. The difference is nothing. . . . The line would never hold me, but it could hold you. I’ll turn the crank. You want to get back, and I’m going to make sure you get there.

No! I’m not leaving without you, I tell him.

Fei, there’s no other way.

What will happen to you then? I ask.

Once you’re up, I’ll evade the soldiers, he says simply, as though that isn’t exactly what we’ve been trying to do for the last hour! It’ll be easier with just one of us.

We both know that’s not true. You won’t be able to hear them, I argue. You should be the one who goes back. I’ll hide out here.

It seems impossible that he can be so calm when my emotions are all in an upheaval. You need to get back to your sister—to our people, he says. You’re the best one to talk to them. Once you’re safely up there, I’ll lie low and then find a way either to get back up to you or make my fortune somewhere else.

Although he seems confident about his own chances, I can tell he isn’t. If he takes the time to send me up the zip line, he might not be able to elude the soldiers. And even if he does escape, there’s no guarantee they won’t post watches at the mountain’s base in the hopes of catching him climbing back. With a start, I realize following this course of action means I may never see him again. Going now, following that dream of us running off together in a new life, might be the only chance we both have of surviving this. It is tempting—excruciatingly so. His kiss is still warm on my lips, and the thought of not having him in my life makes a hole open up inside me.

But he is not the only one I love. Zhang Jing is back in our village, along with Elder Chen and all the other people I’ve known my entire life. They are innocents in this. I cannot leave them blind—figuratively or literally—to this terrible fate. They need to know what is happening, what the township is doing to them. The wise ones must be alerted so that they can help find a way for our people to endure.

Li Wei . . . His name is all I can manage to get out. Inside me, my heart is breaking. A shout from the woods causes me to turn in that direction, and a new panic surges within me. I still see no one, but that cry was much louder than before. The soldiers are getting closer. I look at Li Wei, who has deduced I heard something. His face is filled with sadness and resignation.

There is no other way, Fei, he reiterates. We’re running out of time.

Okay, I say. What are we going to do about the line keeper? Normally our village never receives messages at nightfall, leading us to assume that the line keeper—or who we thought was the line keeper—went home at sunset. But now we can just barely make out someone standing at the line. I wonder if he has stayed longer because of today’s series of strange events.

I have an idea, Li Wei says. We begin walking in the line’s direction. He looks like he’s alone. You go talk to him.

About what? I ask incredulously.

Anything. Distract him with your charm.

My charm?

Li Wei nods and gives me one more urging gesture before disappearing from sight. Mystified, I continue toward the line keeper, ever conscious of the noises farther back in the woods. I wonder if the soldiers have any idea of our plan, if they’ll come in this direction or spread around the mountain in search of a climbing spot. I just don’t know.

I also don’t know exactly what it is I’m supposed to say to the line keeper, especially since he can’t understand me. Presumably I’m to be some kind of diversion while Li Wei enacts the next part of the plan. I don’t know if I can be that captivating, but as I approach the line keeper, I can tell I already have his attention. It’s a different man from the last one, confirming what Nuan said about this simply being a common laborer’s job and not the exalted position we’d imagined. Although he hasn’t seen me before, there’s enough recognition in this man’s face to make me think he’s been given my description. I come to a halt before him, giving a great bow of respect.

Greetings, I say. I know you probably can’t understand a word I’m saying, but that’s not important. What’s important is that you pay enough attention for me to do whatever it is Li Wei needs.

This line keeper looks almost as uneasy as the last one. He utters some of those unintelligible noises and then makes a motion suggesting I follow him down the road. Apparently he learned a lesson from his predecessor about leaving us alone while going for backup.

I smile and shake my head politely, noticing then that Li Wei has crept out of the shadows carrying a large limb. I begin signing with renewed vigor, hoping to keep the line keeper’s interest. I thank you for your gracious offer to escort me to the township, but I think both of us know that’s not the place for me to be right now. And while we’re on the topic of thanks, please express my gratitude to your colleague for his generous gift of food earlier—

Li Wei is almost in position to swing the limb at the back of the line keeper’s head—until he steps on a smaller twig that’s fallen on the road. I hear it. So does the line keeper. He spins around, but Li Wei has already swung the limb. It strikes the side of the line keeper’s head—a blow great enough to render him unconscious. I kneel down, checking the man’s breathing. It is even and steady.

Li Wei and I hurry over to the zip line’s terminus, and it’s all I can do not to demand we give up on this crazy plan right now. How can Li Wei hope to hold out against these people? How can he hide from them when they have the advantage of hearing? Even just now, his plan was nearly foiled when he made a noise and didn’t even realize it. But despite my fears, I stay silent. He has made his choice and is ready to face the danger of staying here so that I can warn our people. My doubts will only hinder him, and I vow to remain calm and strong.

We do a quick rearranging of our packs, giving him the bulk of the food for weight purposes. I would give it all to him, but he insists I bring some as proof to our people about where we’ve been. I curl up in the basket that normally holds metals and food, and he loosely binds me to the line with an extra length of rope, just as a precaution. I hold on to the line as well, of course, my grip tight through the gloves. I look up toward the mountain, which is falling deeper and deeper into shadows, giving it an ominous feel. It seems like an eternity away, endlessly high and impossible to reach.

It won’t take that long, Li Wei tells me. You’ve seen them send stuff down before. You’ll be up a lot faster than it took us to get down—though I’m sure this line has never held such valuable cargo before.

He leans in and kisses me again, a kiss that manages to be both tender yet still full of that earlier intensity and passion. It completely undoes me, and I wish I could wrap my arms around him and never let him go. I think about his earlier words, about how he should have kissed me sooner. The time we’ve wasted leaves an ache in my heart, especially knowing I may never see him again.

Goodbye, Fei, he says when he straightens back up again. Save our people . . . and don’t forget about me.

Tears threaten me. I release the line long enough to sign, There will never be another name on my heart.

His eyes shining, he gives me one last kiss and then begins turning the crank. With a jerk, I lurch forward up the line, rocking back and forth with each turn of the crank. The basket and ropes holding me suddenly seem terribly fragile, and whatever skill and bravery I thought I’d earned from our descent blow away in the wind wailing around me. Coming down the mountain, I at least held my fate in my own hands. I wasn’t facing these dizzying, lethal heights in a basket at the mercy of someone else’s resolve.

No, I realize. Not just someone. Li Wei. As I twist around to look back, my eyes lock with his. His gaze is dark and steady, never leaving my face as he turns the zip line’s crank with every bit of strength he has. Moving me up the line at such a fast speed is no small feat, especially after all the work we did climbing down. But there is a relentless air about Li Wei as he turns, a determination that tells me I have nothing to fear so long as my fate is in his hands. He will guide me up to the top of the mountain, no matter the cost to him. His resolve wraps around me, securing me more than any rope could.

I hold on to his gaze as long as I can, taking strength from it, even as the ache in my chest grows with the distance between us. Evening’s shadows wrap around him, making him a small, dark figure, his form blurry as tears sting my eyes. Soon he is out of sight altogether, and I feel terribly alone. But as I rise higher and higher, I know he is still with me and helping me. At first, the height isn’t that troublesome. I tell myself it’s not unlike climbing a tree. When I surpass even the tree heights, I remember that I survived the climb down from a much higher distance. Surely this should be no different.

Except that during the climb down, I at least felt some measure of control. I chose where I placed each hand and foot. Also, I had the partial security of knowing the rope I was using could hold my weight. Here, as I tremulously move up the line, I am acutely aware that I am testing the limits of what this zip line was built for. At any moment, the line could decide I am too much and snap, sending me to the depths below. I can’t see every detail of the ground anymore, not with night setting in, but I am well aware of how far the drop is. That black gulf looms ominously below me.

No, I tell myself sternly. You have nothing to fear with Li Wei at your back. As long as Li Wei is controlling the line, you will make it safely home. You just have to hang on.

Suddenly, without warning, I come to a teeth-rattling halt. The line stops moving, and I sway where I’m at in the wind. I twist my head to look back and gasp at what I see: small pinpricks of flickering light at the line keeper’s station. Torches. I can’t make out all the details from the distance, but there’s no mistaking the horde of men swarming around one single thing—or rather, person.

Li Wei is no longer in control of the line.

The soldiers have found and intercepted him. I watch in horror as that circle of torchlight moves, ushering away their prisoner. My heart cries out for Li Wei, and my lips want to cry out as well, but I keep my mouth firmly shut, lest I reveal myself.

Whatever is happening back there, they don’t realize I’m out on the line. It’s too dark for them to see me at this distance, and Li Wei’s purpose at the line’s terminus apparently hasn’t hit them yet. The torches flutter around a little bit, and I imagine they are probably carrying away the unconscious line worker as well. Soon the whole cluster begins getting smaller, moving away from me as the guards head down the road back toward the township—with Li Wei as their prisoner.

Panic fills me—panic and guilt. If we’d left together, we could have escaped. What will they do with him now? Leave him in the camp with Nuan? Send him somewhere worse? Torture him? Kill him? I’m desperate to know his fate . . . but it occurs to me that I have another fate of much more pressing concern to worry about.

My own.

I’m hanging here, in the darkness, suspended between heaven and earth with nothing propelling me forward anymore. Li Wei managed to send me a fair distance before his capture, moving me at a much faster rate than our painstaking climb down. But there is still a long way to go—and an even longer way behind me.

Acting against Li Wei’s earlier warnings, I dare a glance down to better assess my situation.

My eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness that I can make out faint details by moonlight. Mist has rolled in for the night in the land beneath me, but as it swirls and shifts, I can catch occasional glimpses of the terrain below. It is rocky and jagged, dotted with occasional evergreens that shoot up from the earth like spikes, ready to impale. They look tiny from this distance, like an illustration from a book, which only serves to remind me how precarious my situation is. I swallow and look away.

A blast of wind suddenly rocks my basket, and I sway from side to side. I grip the rope more tightly, gritting my teeth until the gust passes. As I rock, I notice the handles of the basket seem to be straining. They don’t appear to be in any danger of snapping—yet—but how long will that remain true? The basket wasn’t meant to hold someone of my weight. Right now, it gives me an extra level of protection, but I can’t count on it to last.

A wave of fear rolls over me, nearly as powerful as the wind. I can picture the basket snapping at any moment, and then how long will my hands—already wet with sweat—hold me?

How did I get out here anyway? Why didn’t I just stay in the safety of the art studio? If I hadn’t questioned things, if I’d just continued with the status quo, none of this would have happened. I’d be back at home with Zhang Jing. Li Wei would never have had to risk himself to get me back to our village. We’d be safe.

And deceived.

I would’ve continued being part of the township’s agenda. My loved ones are still unknowingly part of that agenda, risking their lives for it, and I am the only one capable of warning them now. That knowledge steadies me, allowing me to shift my gaze from the treacherous fall. Above me, the stars glitter with a cold beauty, and as I focus on them instead, I find a similar clarity settling over me. I think of Zhang Jing, waiting in the village above with no clue of the dangers she and the others are facing. I think of Li Wei, bravely risking his freedom below so that I could be up here. The distance I have to cover seems insurmountable . . . but there is no choice. A part of me longs to climb down and go after Li Wei, but I know what he would tell me to do: go forward and finish my task.

So, with a deep breath, I begin to climb.

Hand over hand, I inch my way up the zip line, wriggling out of the basket and the protection it offered. It’s hard, agonizing work, far more difficult than coming down. I still have the ropes loosely binding me to the line as an added safeguard, but the strength and stamina required to work my way up must all come from me. And much like the basket, I’m not sure if the ropes will indefinitely bear my weight. Every part of me aches, but I push through my exhaustion, climbing higher and higher. I take small breaks when I can, pausing to unkink my fingers and wipe my sweaty palms, but my rest is short-lived. I am driven by the sacrifice that Li Wei has made, compelled by the knowledge that it’s imperative I get back to my village.

More gusts of wind blow, forcing me to a stop as I sway back and forth on the line. Once, I’m so startled that my hands lose their grip. I have the brief sensation of falling before the safety ropes catch me. I can tell they’re being pushed to their limits, and I frantically grope for the line again to take some of the pressure off. The wind’s interference slows me, but at last I manage to grasp the line again. I breathe a deep sigh of relief, even as I accept a frightening truth: If I lose my grip again, there’s no telling if the ropes will hold me.

The moon shifts through the sky as I climb, and my heart leaps as I see the top of the mountain coming into view. I’ve nearly made it. A new surge of adrenaline spurs me on, and I increase my speed, fighting the pain and stiffness in my body. Within an hour, I’ll be at the end of the zip line.

As that triumphant thought fills me, a jolt on the line suddenly makes me lose my grip. The ropes catch me again, and I quickly manage to regain my hold—just in time for another jolt. It takes me a moment to figure out what is going on: I’m slowly being pulled backward.