Soundless

by Richelle Mead

  CHAPTER 11

  WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? asks Li Wei, getting to his feet again. He looks around, ready for danger to leap out of the walls. Did the soldiers find us?

  No, no, Xiu Mei says. It has nothing to do with you. It’s the bowl. She opens her hand, revealing a broken shard. It is white porcelain, with a brightly colored design painted on it. Our master—the man who owns this inn—is very proud of his collection. The last time one of his employees let something get broken, our master had him hunted down and beaten. Later, the servant died of his injuries. She sighs again. Fortunately, the master isn’t due back for a while. My father and I have time to flee. Lu Zhu will probably go with us so that she’s not blamed in our absence.

  We were hoping you could take us to the others who are like us, says Li Wei.

  She shakes her head. I’m sorry. We must use every bit of time we have to leave.

  I pick up the shard she’s set on the table and hold it to the light. The porcelain looks nearly identical to what I saw in the kitchen, with nothing particularly special about it. It’s the design that makes it unique, I suppose. I can’t be sure, but it looks like part of a phoenix.

  Does your master inspect his art each day? I ask.

  No, but he will instantly be able to tell something is missing from the wall, Xiu Mei says.

  I look up to where the shelf is on the opposite side of the room. It is prominent enough to be noticed but too high for whatever’s on it to be viewed too closely. Glancing down, I study the design again. Do you have paints? I ask. If you got me a bowl from the kitchen, I could re-create this. Your master would never know.

  Xiu Mei looks at me like I’m a crazy person. That’s impossible.

  Not for her, says Li Wei proudly, catching on to my plan. If you replace the bowl, you and your father won’t have to run away.

  That would be great, she says grudgingly, but even if you could do such a thing, we only have a few hours at most.

  Just get me the supplies I need, I say.

  Disbelievingly, Xiu Mei gets up to speak to her father and Lu Zhu. Minutes later, they have gathered at our table, bringing me a clean bowl from the kitchen, the fragments of the broken one, and as many paints as they could muster. Some look like household paints, the kinds used for repairs. Others are of a more delicate quality, and Xiu Mei explains that those are used for paperwork and documents. The colors aren’t an exact match, but I have enough of a variety to feel confident in what I can do. I arrange all the broken pieces together to get a sense of the original and then dive into my work.

  All is silent for a while, and then Lu Zhu says something that makes Xiu Mei nod. She turns to Li Wei, and I see her sign in my periphery: You weren’t kidding. Where did she learn that?

  In our village, Li Wei says. She is the most talented artist of all our people.

  I set down my brush long enough to say, Hush. That’s not true.

  Lu Zhu returns to serving tables. Xiu Mei and her father have a conversation, and then she tells us, I’ll go talk to my contact among the silent ones and see if she will meet with you.

  Silent ones? Li Wei asks.

  It’s what we call your kind, she explains. As long as you stay concealed here, you should be fine. My father and Lu Zhu will keep watch. Get one of them if you have any issues. I will return shortly.

  She leaves the inn, and her father resumes his watch of the common room. I continue my work with mixed feelings. Part of me is anxious for Xiu Mei. Will my work be good enough? Will I only get them into more trouble? At the same time, I feel a secret thrill at being able to paint something that is simply beautiful. Until now, I’ve only ever dreamed of that, and it is a delight to imitate the intricate pattern of phoenixes and plum blossoms on the bowl.

  I lose track of my surroundings and am startled by a soft sound that I recognize as Li Wei laughing. I glance up and see him watching me intently. What? I ask, pausing to set down my brush.

  I think you’re tenser working on this than I was with the scorpion, he tells me.

  I can’t help it, I say. There’s a lot at stake.

  He nods, his smile fading. But you’re also into it—I can see it. There’s a light in your face as you work.

  I can’t help that either, I tell him. I always see things—imagine them, I mean. Beautiful scenes. They burn in me, and I have to get them out.

  Keeping you from this life and forcing you to work in the mines would have been a tragedy, he says solemnly.

  I’m unprepared for that. With the recent flurry of activity since coming to the township, I’ve had little time to ruminate on all the unresolved issues between us. Now, looking at him, I’m surprised to see a mix of admiration . . . and an almost reluctant acceptance.

  There’s more to it than that, I say. It wasn’t easy, that decision. Never think it was easy. I still—

  You still what? he prompts when I don’t finish.

  I shake my head and look away, unable to convey what’s truly in my heart. How can I explain that I have thought about him every day since we parted? That in that first year of officially being an apprentice, I constantly questioned whether I’d made the right choice in walking away from him? My desire to make art and for Zhang Jing’s security got me through many low moments.

  My eyes come to rest on the bowl, and I suddenly stiffen. Now that I’m looking at the larger picture and not the individual shards, I notice that although the main design depicts a phoenix, the border appears to be a mix of all sorts of animals, both real and imagined. I see tigers, qilins, cranes, elephants, dragons, and more. I pick up each piece one by one and feel that strange tugging in my chest.

  What’s wrong? Li Wei asks.

  I set down a shard with a pixiu and a deer on it. This one in particular seems to resonate with me. Nothing. Just something from a dream.

  The same dream that keeps disturbing your sleep? he asks sagely.

  It’s not important, I say. I start to avoid his gaze again, and he reaches out, tipping my chin up so that I must meet his eyes.

  Fei, you know you can trust me. I’m here for you. I always have been and always will be. Tell me what’s wrong.

  You can’t keep rescuing me, I say.

  Of course not, he agrees. You can rescue yourself—but perhaps I can give you a hand now and then.

  I smile faintly, but there is an ache in my chest as I think back to that long-ago day, trapped in the rubble when a beautiful, glittering boy held out his hand to pull me out. A moment later I find myself telling him everything about the night my hearing came to me and the dream I had of everyone in our village opening their mouths in a single cry.

  You think this pull you’ve been feeling is tied to your hearing? To why it returned? he asks.

  I don’t know, I admit. I don’t understand why any of this happened to me.

  I want to say more, but over his shoulder, I see Lu Zhu going about her work. Her pretty face is drawn with worry, and I remind myself I must help these people first. I can give in to my own worries later. I paint with a renewed vigor, conscious that time is pressing upon us. When I finally finish and compare my copy to the broken one, I am more than pleased at what I’ve wrought.

  You did it, Li Wei says. It’s a perfect match.

  Not a perfect match, I say. My blue is darker than the original.

  Well, I’m no painter, but it looks amazing to me. His eyes lift to something behind me. And not a moment too soon.

  I turn and see Xiu Mei hurrying through the door toward us. Our master is returning! she tells us once she reaches our table. I saw him on the way back and was just able to get ahead of him and— She stops when she sees my bowl, looking back and forth between it and the broken pieces I copied. That’s it? You did this?

  I nod, suddenly feeling flustered. I can’t interpret her expression, and I fear the worst, that she’ll tell me it’
s a ridiculous imitation and that I’ve just given her and her father a death sentence.

  I don’t know what’s more incredible, she says, that you did it at all or that you did it in so short a time. There are renowned masters in the capital who would fight to take you on as an apprentice.

  I already have a great master, I say proudly, thinking of Master Chen.

  Xiu Mei gets rid of the broken pieces and then hands the copied bowl to her father. Careful of the wet paint, he cautiously places it on the shelf just minutes before the inn’s master returns. When he walks in the door, I can immediately see how he might order someone beaten for an accident. His face is narrow and drawn, and he has the expression of someone who is perpetually displeased with everything he sees. He scrutinizes the room as he enters, taking in the number of guests and how his employees work. His pinched eyes scan the wall of art but find nothing amiss, and I exhale a breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. Continuing on his way, he snaps something loud and hostile-sounding at the kitchen boy, who scurries away in fear. The master then approaches Xiu Mei at the podium, and she greets him with a bow. A conversation ensues between them, and after another wary survey, the man stalks away.

  When he has disappeared into a back room, Xiu Mei returns to us, grinning. He suspects nothing. Thank you.

  It was my pleasure to help, I say honestly.

  And now I can help you. Nuan is willing to speak with you later, closer to sunset. I have some duties to attend to and will take you to her in a couple of hours. Come. She beckons for us to stand up. I’ll get you some dinner.

  Li Wei starts to hand her some of his coins, but Xiu Mei shakes her head. After what Fei did today, believe me, your dinner is paid for.

  Li Wei’s eyes sparkle. Fei is the hero now. My daring feat with the scorpion isn’t so impressive anymore.

  We all laugh at that, relieved that the earlier tension has lightened. I see other patrons eating in the common room and am puzzled as to why we wouldn’t just eat at our curtained table. We followed her out to another small staircase and go up one floor. The room she leads us into leaves me gaping.

  I thought I had seen many beautiful and wondrous things since coming to the township, but this room puts them all to shame. Screens and tapestries fill it with color and whimsy, each scene lovelier than the last. I see goldfish swimming on a pattern of blue and white flowers, silver pheasants on a backdrop of black and blue. The scenes go on and on, and I feel like I could spend hours staring at each one. Jade vases of flowers sit in the corners, and the middle of the room holds a small low table of gleaming black wood. The far side of the room isn’t screened but is a made of a fine wooden mesh. When I get closer, I see that it looks down on the common room below. Ornate lanterns bathe everything around me in a gentle glow.

  What is this place? I ask.

  We call it the Egret Pavilion—even though it’s not really a pavilion. Xiu Mei rolls her eyes. The master is trying to emulate some of the really high-class inns in the capital.

  This isn’t high class? I ask in disbelief.

  Not compared to some of the ones I’ve seen, she says. But it’s fine for some wealthy guests who come through to host parties or eat a private dinner. No one’s renting it out today, and our master is busy. You won’t be disturbed. Relax, and Lu Zhu will be up with some food. As soon as I finish some accounting, I’ll take you to Nuan.

  I’m so overwhelmed by the beauty of this room that I can’t help but bow to Xiu Mei. Thank you. I think you’ve done far more for us than we have for you.

  Nonsense, she says. Meeting you has given me a lot to think about.

  She leaves us alone in the exquisite room, and we pause to clean our hands and faces in bowls of crystal-clear water. Then we explore the space more closely, finding new and dazzling things to point out to each other. Before long, Lu Zhu slides back the door and enters with a kitchen boy. They set the black table with steaming bowls of noodles and vegetables, as well as cups and a small bottle of rice wine. The food is overwhelming in and of itself, but I find I am just as enthralled by the dishes it’s served in. The bowls are beautifully painted, and the cups are exquisite, made of amber and agate.

  Such a table is almost too gorgeous to eat at, and I glance down at my muddied robe in dismay. I don’t feel worthy of this, I tell Li Wei.

  How do you think I feel? he asks, gesturing to his semi-green shirt. There’s nothing a barbarian like me can do. But you . . . He walks over to where he set his pack down and astonishes me when he lifts out the vermillion silk he won in the scorpion match. I’d completely forgotten about it after everything else that happened. It moves like water between his fingers, and as he straightens it out, I see that it isn’t actually a bolt of cloth like I’d thought. It is a dress, high-waisted with a long, flowing skirt. He hands it to me. Here; it is for you.

  Never have I been able to imagine such a texture. It is smooth and cool between my fingers and extraordinarily light. Up close, I see a pattern of golden plum blossoms worked into it. Putting it over one arm, I sign, For me?

  Well, I’m not going to wear it, he says. Go ahead. Try it on.

  I hesitate. With everything else going on, it seems so foolish . . . and yet I can’t help but be transfixed. All my time in the Peacock Court, I’ve admired those bits of silken trim on the elders’ robes. To be holding an entire garment of that wondrous material is almost unbelievable. I slip behind a screen of red bats and change out of my artist’s clothes. The dress is a little long for me, which isn’t surprising, given my size. A sash at the waist helps keep it in place, and on impulse, I redo the bun that holds my hair. When I step out from behind the screen, I see Li Wei over at the mesh wall, looking down on the common room. He glances up at my approach and freezes.

  What? I ask in alarm, thinking I must look ridiculous.

  It takes him several moments to answer. This, he replies. Remember when you asked me why I’d be so foolish as to risk being injured by the scorpion? He gestures at me in the dress. It’s because of this. And it would have been worth getting stung for.

  Don’t say that. I feel a deep flush spreading over my cheeks. Let’s eat before the food gets cold. We’ve wasted enough time on my vanity.

  Li Wei admires me for several more breathless moments. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed when he finally nods and sits down at the table. I sit opposite him, nervously arranging the full skirt around me.

  The crate we received at the zip line was amazing, but this meal is on an entirely different level. Noodles are a rarity in the food baskets received in our village. We’ve certainly never had them cooked this way, simmering in a spiced broth of meat with the freshest vegetables I’ve ever tasted. The ones we receive are always a little wilted. The aroma is intoxicating, enough to make me take a break to eat. The taste is exquisite, and before long, I find myself licking the bottom of the bowl. Food has always been such a practical necessity in my world. I never dreamed of finding pleasure in it.

  The rice wine I’m less enchanted by. One sip makes me gag. Li Wei laughs at my reaction, and I push my cup toward him. You can have mine.

  He shakes his head, amused. We need to keep clear heads. He gazes around the room, that earlier look of wonder returning. Can you imagine living like this? Eating food like this? Having access to so much? Meeting people from all over the world?

  I haven’t thought much about it, I say honestly. Maybe after we help our village, there will be time to learn more.

  He frowns and looks as though he will argue, but Lu Zhu enters just then. She takes in my dress with a knowing look and sweeps away the empty dishes. Noticing our untouched wine, she returns with a kettle of tea and tiny porcelain cups. Non-medicinal tea is another luxury item in our village, usually only reserved for the elders. I feel decadent sipping it, and as I relax in my dress and the beautiful room, I wonder if Li Wei is right to dream of living in
a world like this.

  A new noise draws me up short. I go very still, listening to sounds I’ve never encountered before. They hang in the air like colors on a canvas, reminding me of when the blue thrush sang.

  What is it? Li Wei asks.

  I don’t know, I tell him, getting to my feet. But it’s amazing.

  I go to the mesh wall and look down. Lu Zhu has returned to the common room and sits there with what I recognize from scrolls as a musical instrument. A pipa, I believe. She plucks the strings delicately, and I see that I am not the only one entranced. Several other patrons have gone silent, watching with rapt looks. Some place coins at her feet.

  It is music, I tell Li Wei. He knows the term, but its nature is meaningless to him. It is wonderful . . . like a dream.

  I’ve gained new insight as to how sounds can be helpful for communication and survival, but until this moment, it never occurred to me that sounds could be enjoyable too. The birdsong I’ve heard on our journey made me smile, but this reaches into my heart. Lu Zhu’s playing is a type of art. Listening to the pipa, I find myself relaxing as a tranquil joy spreads through me. The tension leaves my body, and I briefly forget about the woes of my village. Li Wei can’t experience the music like I can, but something in my mood must come through to him. He stands very close behind me, putting his arm around my waist to draw me near. At first, I stiffen as a new kind of tension and fear fills me. Moments later I find myself relaxing, leaning into him. There’s an overwhelming rightness to the moment that is difficult for me to articulate.

  Forgetting the music, I turn to regard him, lifting my face toward his. He rests his hands on my waist, and his gaze is electric, running over every part of me. I never knew it was possible to be both elated and terrified at the same time. It takes me a moment to recover myself and find the words I need.

  You . . . you can’t look at me like that, I tell him.

  He lifts his hands to answer, his fingertips brushing my waist. Like what?

  You know what, I scold.

  Why? he asks, taking a tantalizing step closer. Because you’re an artist and I’m a miner?