Текст книги "Soundless"
Автор книги: Richelle Mead
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
The clash of sounds I heard outside the gates is nothing compared to the noise level inside, with so many people giving voice to their thoughts. I wonder how they make any sense of it. It’s all meaningless chatter to me, grating in its excess. Even the horses—there are more here, inside the walls—make their own unique noises as their hooves strike the stone roads. Nonetheless, I find I am able to tune out the din somewhat because everywhere I look, I also see written signs using the same characters we use. That familiarity grounds me, giving me the tools to start to make sense of this place. We’ve followed the silk wagon into what I think might be a market, based on the multitude of signs advertising goods: fruit, meat, cloth, jewelry, pottery, and more. It seems you can acquire anything in the world here.
A horse-drawn wagon rumbles past us, kicking up mud in its wake. Some of it splatters on the sleeve of my clean shirt, making me cry out in dismay. Li Wei and I, still holding hands, step off the main thoroughfare so that we won’t be run over, and we pause to read what’s around us. Both of us are at a loss. I thought it would be obvious how to find someone in charge who might offer insight on our village’s situation, but as I look around at these busy people, I have the feeling our village means nothing to them.
Li Wei releases my hand to speak, his face alight with excitement. Did you see that? he signs. Where they’re selling bread? That woman just handed over a small piece of silver and carried off a basket full of rolls! We pull out many times that in silver each day in the mines! If we could trade that in the same way, we’d never be hungry. For the amount of metal we produce each day, we should have a bounty of food!
It can’t be that simple, I reply, frowning. Otherwise why would the line keeper send us so little to eat? Perhaps there is something special about that woman. But as I watch her carry off her rolls, I can’t see that she’s much different from anyone else around us. The more we watch, the more we see bits of metal exchanged for all kinds of goods, and I begin to share Li Wei’s view. I know the amounts of metal our village produces. It’s my duty to note it for the record every day. I’ve seen just a fraction of that metal change hands here and result in an abundance of supplies that would leave our village reeling. Why doesn’t that kind of exchange apply to us?
I spy a group of children playing across the road. They are holding hands, moving in a circle, and speaking. But it’s a different kind of speech from what I’ve heard from others. For one thing, each child is saying the same thing at the same time. There’s also a quality to it than I haven’t encountered before. There’s a beauty to the sounds the children are making, almost reminding me of when I first heard the thrush back in our village. With a start, I wonder if I am hearing human singing. Whatever it is, it makes me smile.
Before I can comment on this, a wizened woman standing at a table notices us. She’s selling fruit and has a lull in her business. We make eye contact, and her face brightens. She holds up some fruit I’ve never seen, opening her mouth and making more unintelligible sounds. I shake my head, knowing she wants metal in exchange for it, and I have none. Misunderstanding me, she holds up a different fruit and speaks again. I shake my head and, out of habit, sign: No, thank you.
Instantly, the woman’s demeanor changes. She recoils, her smile fading. She turns away from us, trying to solicit someone else—anyone else. When she dares a glance back, noticing we’re still there, she makes a shooing gesture that’s understandable to anyone. We back away, finding another out-of-the-way spot in the shadow of a large building that advertises medicine and herbs.
What was that all about? Li Wei asks.
I’m not sure, I say. She reminded me a little of the line keeper: Both of them recognize signing, but neither seems comfortable with it.
A man emerges from the building just then and catches sight of me finishing my sentence. He recoils and makes an abrupt turn, giving us a wide berth. I glance back at Li Wei to see whether he noticed. He did, and his face darkens.
I’m getting a bad feeling about this place and these people, he tells me. Something isn’t right. They know about us, or at least about people like us. And it scares them.
Why would they be scared of us? I ask.
I don’t think it’s us so much as—
He drops his hands when a heavily cloaked figure appears beside us. Based on this person’s height and hands, I’m guessing she’s a woman. The hood makes it difficult to see her face, and she is careful to keep her gaze averted and avoid any further identification. She appears to have noticed us signing, and I expect her to behave as the others did. Instead, she makes a gesture of beckoning and leads us toward a narrow space between two buildings.
I think she wants us to follow her, I say to Li Wei.
Another passerby notices the signing and does a double take, sharing the same look of alarm as the fruit vendor. The mysterious woman stamps her foot impatiently and beckons again for us to follow. When we don’t move, she gestures broadly to the other townspeople and then makes very deliberate motions with her hands. She is signing, but it’s not exactly the same kind of signing I know. Some of the words and motions are foreign to me, but a few come through—especially when she points to the townspeople again and signs: Dangerous. She indicates once more that we should follow her, and I am able to understand: Me . . . keep you safe.
Li Wei and I exchange glances again. We don’t know anything about her, he says.
We don’t know anything about any of these people, I point out. But she is the first to know our language. Kind of.
The cloaked woman suddenly makes a sharp gesture. I follow where she points and see two guards from the front gate moving purposefully through the crowd, clearly in search of something. Their faces are hard, and they push people out of the way indiscriminately as their gazes dart around. A chill runs through me. I don’t know for sure that they’re looking for us, but we can’t take the chance. Li Wei and I clasp hands and follow this stranger into the unknown.
CHAPTER 10
OUR GUIDE LEADS US around and in between buildings, taking a path so convoluted that I soon lose all sense of where the market is. We leave it far behind us along with a lot of the more populated areas—which makes me uneasy. This stranger spoke of saving us from danger, but is it possible we’re simply walking into a trap?
At last, we reach what appears to be the opposite side of the township. I can see the towering wooden wall in the distance, but it isn’t our final destination. Instead, our guide takes us to a squat two-story building with minimal decoration. Painted characters on the front read: Red Myrtle Travelers’ Inn. With a quick gesture, we are beckoned around the back side of the building, to a nondescript door.
After glancing around to make sure we’re alone, our guide pushes back her hood, and I am surprised to see she is our age and exceptionally pretty. She opens the door and starts to step through, pausing when she notices we don’t follow. It’s okay, she says. No one will hurt you here.
Who are you? I ask.
And what is this place? Li Wei demands.
My name is Xiu Mei, the girl replies. I work at this inn. I am its . . . The word she signs isn’t one I know. Seeing our confusion, intrigue lights her features. Your language must be different. Come in, and we will get something to write with. Don’t sign until we’re secure.
Li Wei and I exchange uncertain glances. I honestly don’t know if we can trust anyone in this strange place, but at least Xiu Mei isn’t openly shunning us like the vendors in the market. There is something open and disarming about her face, and the fact that she can use our language—or something like it—goes a long way toward providing a glimpse of order in what’s otherwise a thoroughly chaotic situation. After a moment of hesitation, we follow her.
We step into a kitchen like no kitchen I’ve ever seen. Steam bellows from pots on a hot stove, making the small space hot and stuffy. I’m assaulted with smells I’ve never encountered before, probably from foods I’ve never encountered before. This isn’t like our kitchen at home, with only a scarce handful of ingredients to carefully parse out. Here, two women and one boy scurry busily around, working with a vast array of vegetables and meats, sprinkling them with powders I’ve never seen. I feel my mouth begin to water and see a similar hunger in Li Wei’s awestruck expression.
And, of course, there are sounds. So many sounds, most of which I don’t have names for. Pots and pans are tossed heedlessly around, dishes set down without ceremony. Food dropped into hot skillets of oil makes a noise that leaves me staring, one never described by Feng Jie. Mixed with all this is the sound of human conversation, each of the workers chattering away as they go about their tasks. One of them sees us and gives us a polite nod, then says something directly to Xiu Mei. She smiles and answers back, surprising me. She can hear and is fluent in both spoken and hand communication.
I have little time to ponder that before she leads us out of the kitchen and into a much larger room. It is filled with tables, some of which sit out in the open and others of which are tucked away in corners, concealed by gauzy curtains. Scattered tapestries and scrolls adorn the walls, along with a few well-displayed pieces of pottery. Most of the people sitting at the tables are men, and their clothing covers a vast range of styles and colors. Some are dressed as humbly as Li Wei and I. Others rival the silk merchant we followed into the township. Aside from one older woman sitting with a large group in the open, the only other female besides Xiu Mei and me appears to work here. She is dressed in silk and has her back to us as she delivers food and drink.
I’ve read about inns in the archives, but Li Wei and I have no personal experience with any place like this. How could we? Who visits our village? Xiu Mei points us toward one of the private tables. We pass a grizzled man standing by the door with arms crossed over his chest. His face is scarred, and there is a tough, no-nonsense air about him. He watches Xiu Mei closely but makes no other movement toward us.
We sit down, and Xiu Mei draws the curtain around us. The smoky fabric is wondrous, sheer, and silky. I immediately find myself touching it. From the outside, it makes seeing the table difficult, but from this side, we can make out most of the goings on in the room. Although I am still nervous about what we’ve stumbled into, I nod politely and tell Xiu Mei our names.
It’s nice to meet you. Wait here, she says. She darts away to a podium across the room, returning with paper and ink. When she addresses us again, her face is eager and curious.
We can talk in here, behind the curtain—but don’t let anyone else see you sign unless I say so. Why are you different from the others? she asks. Why is your language different?
What others? I ask, wondering if I’ve missed something.
The others who can’t hear. They also speak with their hands, but a few of your words aren’t the same. They’re like . . .
I don’t follow her next sign, which kind of proves her point. Using her ink and paper, she writes out: . . . variations of each other.
I don’t know the people you mean, I tell her. As far as we know, we are the only ones from our village to have ever come here.
Xiu Mei’s eyebrows rise at that. Where is your village?
On top of the mountain. The largest mountain, I amend.
Her face tells me our sign for mountain isn’t the same, and I draw it for her. It is a pattern we continue throughout our conversation. She is very quick to pick up on the differences, however, and soon needs little help.
I didn’t know there were people up there, she says. They’re all like you? All deaf?
Yes, I say, not bothering to enlighten her about my state.
The curtain rustles, and the grizzled man from the door appears. He says something to Xiu Mei, his voice deep and harsh. I find him intimidating, but Xiu Mei seems unfazed. She answers back cheerily, and after a brief exchange, the man returns to his post.
Who was that? asks Li Wei.
My father, she says. He wanted to know who you were. He is nervous about me talking to you, but he doesn’t agree with the . . .
Again, she writes out the word when we don’t understand it: decree. Seeing our confused expressions, she explains, There is a decree against your people—or, well, people like you. Those who can’t hear. A number of them live here in the township, but we are discouraged from communicating with them or doing business with them.
Do you know where they came from? I ask eagerly. If there are others like us, those who have made a home in this strange place, I’m suddenly hopeful they might be able to help us.
No, she says. The ones I’ve talked to have been reluctant to describe their past. Mostly I speak to them in order to learn the hand signs. I have an interest in languages. It was my specialty back when I was trying to get into one of the schools in the capital.
If you aren’t supposed to speak to us, why did you pull us aside back in the market? Li Wei asks suspiciously.
It was obvious you two were lost, she says. Outsiders. I watched you using the signs and was intrigued that yours were a little different from the ones I know. When I overheard some soldiers talking about finding two people who matched your description, I knew you needed help. It’s so strange that there are more of you—more without hearing. I wonder if all your ancestors started out with the same sign language and then it changed over time? That would explain why some signs are different. She strikes me as someone whose academic curiosity consumes her so much that it frequently takes her off-topic.
You still didn’t explain why you helped, Li Wei points out, steering her back.
She laughs. I suppose not. Sorry. This is all just so fascinating. I helped because . . . well, part of it’s just curiosity. But also, my father and I aren’t supporters of the king’s regime. Things weren’t so bad with the old king, but when Jianjun came to power, much changed.
Jianjun? I ask. Is that the current king? We’ve always known a king ruled in Beiguo, but our village long lost track of the successors.
Xiu Mei nods. Yes. He treats the army badly, which is why my father resigned—making a lot of enemies when he did. And then Jianjun stopped letting women into the academies, so we left the capital and ended up here in this poor excuse for a city.
Li Wei’s eyes widen. This place is huge!
This makes her laugh again. You really have come from the top of a mountain. This is nothing. There are bigger, grander cities out there, ones where you can go far if you have the right skills and connections. But for a dishonored veteran and his scholar daughter? The options are limited. The man who owns this place needs a bodyguard and someone who can balance the books. He’s not a friendly man, but at least he doesn’t care that I’m a girl.
It must be interesting work, I observe politely.
Very much so, she agrees. We see people from all over Beiguo—even from outside of it. Every day some group is off to a new destination. Every day someone new comes through our doors. Today it’s you. What brought you from the top of your mountain?
We hoped we could speak to the line keeper about getting more food to our village, I explain.
Her puzzled expression answers before she does. I don’t know anything about that. I never even knew your village existed. And who is this line keeper?
The curtain shifts again, and the woman who was serving the tables appears before us. Tall and willowy, she is dressed in silk, but I’m unprepared for it up close. Skirts of purest white—a color rare in everyday dress in our village—are covered by a long robe of the richest green silk imaginable. It is like spring has been spun into fabric. Cranes embroidered in golden thread dance across her robe; their glitter reflects in the sparkling golden pins that hold her hair into two buns. Her hair is equally incredible, the color of sunlight, and her green eyes sparkle. I’ve never seen features like that, not in our village of dark hair and eyes. Some sort of red paint makes her lips shine, and a dusting of powder gives her skin a fair, delicate hue. She is like someone from a story, and she makes me forget what we were talking about.
Beside her, I feel small, dirty, and plain. And that’s before I see how Li Wei is looking at her. His eyes are wide, as though that is the only way he could possibly take in so much beauty. After several awed seconds, he clamps his mouth shut to stop himself from gaping. I’m pretty sure I looked exactly the same way when I saw him emerge covered in gold from the mines so long ago.
She smiles at both of us, lingering on Li Wei a beat longer than me, before turning to Xiu Mei. She speaks, and her voice is high and light, reminding me of the birds I’ve heard singing. Xiu Mei smiles in return, speaks briefly, and then turns toward us. Lu Zhu is curious about you, she signs. Don’t worry—she’s used to me speaking with the others like you. She won’t tell.
Is that her real hair? Li Wei asks.
Xiu Mei says something to Lu Zhu, making both women laugh. Li Wei blushes, guessing the joke was at his expense. Yes, says Xiu Mei. She comes from a land outside of Beiguo, and all her people are like that. She works here now, just as I do. She’s come to see if you want dinner or rice wine, but I’m guessing neither of you has money.
We shake our heads. Xiu Mei opens her mouth to speak, and then a loud noise draws their attention back toward the center of the room. Some of the men in the center have begun moving the heavy wooden tables. Lu Zhu shakes her head in dismay, and Xiu Mei looks annoyed as she gets to her feet.
What’s going on? I ask.
They’re playing that stupid game again, she says. I need to go and make sure no one gets hurt by the . . .
I don’t understand the last word she says because it’s another unknown sign. She hurries over to where a group of men is huddled around one of the tables. Li Wei and I exchange puzzled glances and then rise at the same time to see what is happening.
A man with a gray-streaked black beard holds a small box in front of him. He lifts the lid, and everyone leans forward. I need to get closer to see and am small enough to slip forward between two larger men. My breath catches when I discover what’s in the box: a scorpion. It’s a little smaller than my hand, its carapace gleaming black. The man says something and nods to a boy standing near him. The boy produces a small leather bag and spills its contents onto the table: a pile of gleaming gold coins.
Immediately, there is a flurry of action among the men. They begin speaking at once and offering forward coins of their own, as well as other items. One man hands over a ring. Another has an exquisitely painted fan. After some deliberation, the old man gestures toward a tall young man not much older than Li Wei and me. This causes even more excitement. The assistant begins collecting the various offerings and handing out small pieces of paper that he scrawls small characters on. Leaning forward, I’m able to read a few of them. The slips record what item was offered and then say either for or against.
When all the items have been gathered, the tall chosen man holds out his hand. Silence falls. To my horror, the bearded man lifts out the scorpion and sets it on the chosen one’s outstretched hand. After several tense moments, the bearded man nods, and the silence shatters, making me jump. Everyone gathered starts making noise. Some of it consists of words, some consists of hums and cries and other sounds I don’t know the word for. It grows to a frenzied, uncomfortable level, almost making me want to retreat. But I’m too curious about what’s happening.
With sweat pouring down his forehead, the young man passes the scorpion between his hands, back and forth. The scorpion docilely obliges. His gaze focuses unblinkingly on the creature, and it’s clear he’s working hard to keep his arms steady. I imagine the noise from the throng isn’t helping. Eight times he passes the scorpion. On the ninth time, the noise from the others rises sharply, and their excitement intensifies. The young man grows more nervous, his hands trembling. Just as he is about to make the tenth pass, the calm scorpion suddenly lashes out, its tail striking the man’s arm. He jerks sharply, and the scorpion falls to the table. My own cry of surprise is lost in the uproar of the others. The old bearded man scoops up the scorpion into its box while his assistant pays out those whose slips read against.
When all the bets are settled, another man volunteers to hold the scorpion. The process repeats, with the crowd again creating a storm of noise in what I realize now is an attempt to distract the holder. This time, the competitor successfully completes ten passes and returns the scorpion to its box. There is more excitement, and the for bets are paid out. The victorious man is also paid, given both gold coins and some of the surrendered loot.
We watch a couple more rounds, and all those who volunteer end up getting stung. All the while, the bearded man’s treasure accumulates. The stacks of coins grow and are joined by other items: a small corked bottle, a newly crafted knife, and a swathe of the reddest silk I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but admire it, particularly after the damage done to my own shirt. Those men who’ve been defeated cradle hands that are swollen and purple, but otherwise they have suffered no ill effects—except maybe to their pride.
Li Wei and I retreat to our table, his eyes bright. I’ve seen that type of scorpion in our village before. They’re harmless unless disturbed. All you have to do is keep your hands steady—it shouldn’t be that hard.
The others are making noise, I explain. Lots of it. It’s distracting to me, and it would be even more distracting if I were holding a creature like that. Another outburst occurs from the table, but I force my attention from the spectacle to focus on our current dilemma. What should we do? I ask Li Wei. About our situation, I mean. Xiu Mei seems to genuinely want to help us, but I’m not sure that she can. She doesn’t know anything about our village, and her father apparently doesn’t have much influence.
They have more than us, Li Wei notes dryly. No one’s even supposed to talk to us—or people like us.
I think it’s those other people we need to find, I say. The others who can’t hear. Perhaps they know something about our history or that of the other village. We need to get to them. That’s where we’ll find answers about what we should do to help our people.
I suppose so, says Li Wei. His eyes drift from me, and this time, rather than focusing on the scorpion game or Lu Zhu, he takes in the room as a whole. The diversity of people is overwhelming, and I think back to what Xiu Mei said, about how people are always coming and going through their doors. There is a sense of wonder on Li Wei’s face, as though perhaps he imagines himself walking out the door with one of those traveling parties—not back to our village but to some exotic location far away.
A great cry from the table tells me another competitor has been stung. I shake my head in disgust. It can’t be worth it for that sort of injury!
It isn’t deadly, Li Wei says, face intrigued as he watches the spectacle again. I’ve seen it happen to others. The swelling will go down in another day or so.
It still doesn’t seem like it’s worth the risk, no matter the riches, and judging from Xiu Mei’s exasperated expression as she supervises the matches, she agrees. After the last defeat, no other volunteers offer themselves up. The bearded man calmly nods to his assistant, who dumps more coins on the table. I see temptation in the eyes of those gathered, but no one steps forward.
It is more difficult now, Li Wei tells me. The scorpion is agitated, more likely to strike.
The old man’s assistant pours out still more coins. It’s not enough to entice anyone, I remark. No one is that foolish.
Or so I think.
To my complete astonishment, Li Wei gets up and strides forward. Before I can even think to stop him, he has pushed through the crowd and holds out the pixiu statue to the assistant. The young man looks it over with a critical eye, particularly the gold trim, and then gives a sharp nod of acceptance. The crowd goes crazy, and I spur myself forward. I need to stop him, tell him he’s being an idiot, but a warning look from Xiu Mei stills me. I can’t sign to Li Wei—not in front of all these people.
Helpless, I watch as the bets are taken. Most of them are against. I don’t need to understand what the others are saying to know their thoughts. From their expressions and nudges, it’s clear they think Li Wei is some bumbling, naive boy who will almost certainly falter and fail. Untroubled by their comments, Li Wei’s hard gaze is fixed squarely on the scorpion in its box. He never takes his eyes from it as the bets are collected, and his jaw is tightly clenched.
I’m nearly as tense and again have to fight the urge to drag him away from this madness. But there’s no time. With the bets in, the bearded man has the scorpion out and on Li Wei’s hand. I stop breathing. The crowd starts in with its cacophony, but that at least is one distraction Li Wei doesn’t have to worry about. He is oblivious to the sounds, able to focus solely on keeping his hands and arms straight—which, even I have to admit, he does remarkably well. Back and forth he passes the scorpion, remaining calm and collected the entire time, while I grow increasingly anxious. What is he thinking? He can’t risk that kind of injury to his hand, especially if we have to climb back soon! And what if he’s wrong about how harmless the sting really is?
Six, seven, eight. On the ninth pass, the crowd goes wild, trying desperately to unnerve him as he nears his final pass. He doesn’t twitch at all, but I am shaking so much that I wrap my arms around myself to stay steady. The tenth pass finishes, and triumphant, he returns the scorpion to its box. Pandemonium breaks out. Most of the spectators lost, but a few who bet on Li Wei will be paid handsomely. The assistant pushes an enormous stack of coins toward Li Wei, who shakes his head and points to the vivid red silk. After a quick conference with his master, the assistant collects a few of the coins and then hands the rest to Li Wei, along with the silk and pixiu statue.
Grinning, Li Wei gathers up his winnings and starts to step away when another man suddenly crosses his path. The man speaks, but Li Wei can’t understand. He stares in confusion, which seems to agitate the man. Whatever he says next causes a few others to regard Li Wei speculatively, and I tense, wondering what is going wrong. Xiu Mei suddenly moves to his side and says something with an easy smile. This pacifies the others, though the original speaker looks suspicious. She steers Li Wei back to the seclusion of our table, and I quickly join them.
Are you out of your mind? I demand. What would drive you to do something so dangerous? You were nearly stung!
Nearly? Li Wei asks indignantly after setting down his goods. I wasn’t even close to that!
I’ll agree to that, Xiu Mei says wryly. You were in more danger of being discovered as deaf, which many would see as an unfair advantage. That man thought you were too calm around the noise, and then you didn’t answer him. I told him you come from far away and don’t speak our language.
Thank you, I tell her, needing to get us back on track from this madness. Now, if you could help us find the others who—
I stop as a new commotion draws my attention. Two men at the table have gotten into a physical confrontation over something. One man dives at another, knocking his chair backward. Xiu Mei sprints away, trying to intercede. Li Wei gets to his feet, ready to help her, but her father is already on the move. He darts across the room, clearly intent on breaking up the fight, but he isn’t fast enough to stop what happens next.
The men keep grappling with each other, and one is slammed into the wall with an impact so great, I can feel the vibrations across the room. A small shelf high on the wall displaying an ornate bowl wavers and then sends the bowl crashing to the floor. Lu Zhu puts her hand to her mouth and lets out a small scream.
By the time the men stop their fighting, Xiu Mei’s father has them both by the necks of their shirts and is hauling them out of the inn. Xiu Mei and Lu Zhu both kneel around the broken bowl, their faces stricken with worry and fear. Li Wei watches them with concern but finally settles back down beside me when he observes no immediate danger.
I wonder what has happened, I say. Even though it has nothing to do with us, I can’t help but feel bad for Xiu Mei, who is clearly distraught. Once her father has thrown the other men out, he comes to speak with her and Lu Zhu. The rest of the inn’s patrons go on with their normal business, but those three remain upset. At last, Xiu Mei’s father shakes his head sadly as he says something. Xiu Mei gives a great sigh and stares bleakly ahead, doing a double take as she catches sight of our curtained table. I think she had forgotten about us. Quickly, she hurries over and joins us within the curtained seclusion.
I’m sorry, she says. You’re going to have to leave. We all are. Our lives are in danger.
