Soundless

by Richelle Mead

—and find myself face-to-face with a family of human skeletons grinning at me with sightless faces.

  CHAPTER 8

  A SCREAM CATCHES IN MY THROAT, and I back up as quickly as I can. The little pixiu statue slips from my fingers and hits the floor with a thud. I barely notice. I want nothing to do with this place. I need to get out.

  I run through the living area and out the door—and straight into Li Wei. For a moment, I’m so panicked that I don’t even realize it’s him. I start to struggle against him and finally still when a glimmer of familiarity—the feel of his strong arms around me—is able to penetrate my fear. For a moment, I allow myself to relax in his embrace and then step back, still trembling.

  Are you okay? he demands. What’s wrong?

  I have no words. I simply shake my head and point at the door. Li Wei gives me a once-over and proceeds toward the house to investigate. By the time he returns, I have calmed down a little. I’m embarrassed to show such weakness, but the memory of those grinning skulls is haunting. Li Wei wears a tight expression, and I see he’s carrying the statue I dropped.

  What are you doing? I ask. We shouldn’t take anything. This place is cursed.

  Li Wei tucks the little pixiu into his pocket. That house, perhaps, but not this statue. The carving is incredible. I’ve heard about statues like these. People used to keep them in their homes for prosperity and good fortune.

  It didn’t help these people, I point out.

  Li Wei’s face turns grimmer. I don’t know what happened in there, but I think it has little to do with the supernatural and more to do with man. Let’s check out the rest of these buildings and figure it out.

  Maybe he’s right. This village is too similar to our own. We have to find out what happened here to ensure that our village doesn’t share this one’s fate. How do you suggest we search? I ask.

  Wait here, he says. He hurries off into the largest building in the settlement, one that looks less like a house and more like some sort of administrative or educational facility. It’s eerie being left alone in this ghostly village, but I refuse to let superstition get the best of me. When Li Wei comes back out, there is excitement on his face.

  It’s just as I was hoping. There are records in there, almost like what we keep. It looks like this was where their elders resided. Can you get started going through those writings? They might be able to tell us what happened here, and you’re better at understanding that sort of thing than I am.

  What are you going to do? I ask.

  He gestures around. Continue searching the rest of the houses. I think those records will have most of our answers, but we need to rule everything out.

  Be careful, I say.

  He nods, heading off toward one of the houses.

  I watch him a few moments and then turn toward the administrative building. It’s smaller than the art school at home or our magistrate’s center, but then, this village is also much smaller. The building is in a similar state as the house I was just in, smelling of dust and decay. But thankfully there are no skeletons or other signs of the dead to keep me company.

  The room Li Wei referred to is similar to our library at the Peacock Court, and it has kept out the worst of the moisture and other damaging elements. Wall racks hold a neat collection of scrolls, and the rest of the room is dedicated to storing what looks like this village’s equivalent of daily records. They’re smaller than ours and not nearly as elaborate as the murals we create, nor do they show the artistic flair and precision that we are encouraged to put into our work. But they are factual and orderly and contain the information I need to unravel what has happened in this village. I make myself comfortable and begin reading scrolls by the dusty light filtering in from a high window.

  What I discover is shocking. Numbing, even. I lose track of time and am only startled out of my study when I hear Li Wei’s steps in the adjacent hall. Did you find anything? I ask when he enters. I manage to appear calm, but inside, I’m reeling.

  More than I wanted, he tells me. Most of the homes are empty, but others have bones as well. I don’t know what killed them.

  I do, I say, setting down one of the records. Starvation and sickness. My attempts at control begin to falter. My hands are shaking, and I clasp them in my lap. It’s not fear that has unsettled me so much as shock.

  Do you want to go outside to talk? Li Wei asks. It’s getting warmer.

  I nod. I feel chilled in this place full of memories and ghosts. I need to be back out in the sun, back among living and growing things. We travel toward last night’s camp, but just as we are at the edge of the village, we encounter another gruesome sight: skeletons shackled to a stone block. My stomach turns at the thought of the terrible fate they must have endured there. Characters etched into the stone condemn them for their crime: food thieves.

  With a shudder, I avert my gaze and see Li Wei scowling. I’m not surprised he’s upset, considering the way he protected the thief in our village. This is savage, he states. At least our people have never taken punishment to such an extreme.

  They might, I say, thinking of what I learned. If our village ever has to face what this one did.

  What do you mean? he asks.

  We reach our camp, now enjoying the full force of morning sunlight. It helps chase away the gloom of what I uncovered in the library—but only a little. Li Wei looks at me expectantly once we are there.

  They were like us, I tell him finally. Exactly like us. A mining town. They lost their hearing and became trapped up here, with no easy way to climb down, but they established a deal with the township. They had their own line and sent metals down the mountain in exchange for food. And just like us, they began to go blind.

  Those similarities are still too shocking, too unbelievable, and that’s what makes it hard to keep going. This village’s history was so much like our own: Had I just taken a walk in my own future? Is this what’s in store for us in ten years? Five years? One year? Fear makes me lose track of my story—not for myself, but for those we left behind. What fate is waiting for Zhang Jing? For the masters and other students?

  What happened? How did they die? Li Wei asks, his expression urgent. Fei, you said starvation?

  I swallow and try to regain my composure. With blindness, their mining output depleted, and just like with us, the township started limiting their food. They weren’t exactly like us—they stopped feeding their beggars altogether. The blindness also resulted in more accidents, so some died that way too. Near the end, their water supply got contaminated. The record keepers believed some of the bodies weren’t disposed of properly and fouled the water. People grew sick and died before they discovered the problem. It was a couple of years ago, so it eventually cleared, I add, seeing him shoot a concerned look at our canteens. By then, there was hardly anyone left. The township stopped food shipments completely, and chaos broke out. Those that didn’t die of starvation attempted to climb down, but it’s unknown how many made it. The elevation is lower, but from what I’ve read, the stone on the cliffs below is softer—more prone to avalanches, less likely to hold ropes and body weight. Some may have escaped. Some didn’t. Some may have thrown themselves over purposefully.

  I sink to the ground, unable to shake the thought of this happening to our village. Li Wei paces in front of me, his expression dark. He bravely investigated the ghost village, with all its horrors, but now I can tell his resolve is wavering. Or maybe he’s just losing hope.

  Is this what it comes to then? he asks. Is this what our village can expect? Food disappearing altogether? Despair and hopelessness?

  We can’t know that, I say. We can’t know anything until we speak to the line keeper. And our village isn’t like theirs . . . not yet.

  Isn’t it? he asks angrily. It’s already happening! The blindness has started. The metals have decreased. The food has decreased. Just the other day, the township said they were sen
ding less as “punishment.” How much longer until they stop the food? How long until our own people turn on each other in desperation? Is this what my father died for? How many other villages has the township done this to?

  I don’t know. We must talk to the line keeper.

  We need to do something, he snaps. But I don’t know if talking is enough.

  Li Wei is understandably worked up, and I know it’s from more than just the gruesome discoveries in this village. The pain of his father’s death is still fresh, making everything that much worse . . . and desperate.

  He sighs. Perhaps there was some misunderstanding with this village. Perhaps they asked for too much.

  Perhaps, I agree.

  I can tell we’re both trying to put on good faces for each other. In reality, I know we are both filled with doubts. We want to believe the best, that the line keeper can help us, but we’ve seen and suffered too much. And if the line keeper can’t help, then what? It’s that uncertainty that casts the real pall over us.

  I summon an image of Zhang Jing and muster my courage as I follow Li Wei to a spot he deems suitable for continuing our descent down the cliffs. The warnings of the writings stick with us, and he is extra cautious as he begins planting the ropes into the rock face. Some of the stone is softer in this area, and he won’t let us descend until he’s certain each stake and rope will hold.

  Even though we have less distance to cover than we did the previous day, it’s still a long way down to the base of the mountain. Every inch we travel is filled with fear that the rock is going to crumble and loosen our stakes, sending us plummeting. More avalanches tumble after us, and again, my hearing only just saves us on more than one occasion. Sometimes I’m not quick enough, and we both earn new bruises and cuts to go with yesterday’s injuries. Adding to all this is the knowledge that we are out of food. Hunger gnaws at the edges of my stomach.

  And yet a strange exhilaration is filling me as we get lower and lower and see the ground at the base of the mountain. A lush valley filled with trees spreads out before us, drawing nearer, and beyond it I can see a haze of green land that looks as though it has no trees at all. Is it possible that’s farmland? The library has books about cultivation and growing, but after the avalanches cut off the passes to our village’s fertile lands, farming has become as fantastic a concept as flying—or hearing. Dreams of what may be waiting for us spur me on in the last stretch of our climb.

  Then, incredibly, we set foot on the ground. I look up and am stunned to see my own mountain and its neighbors towering off into the sky. I can’t even see the tops, as early evening clouds have moved in. It’s an entirely different perspective from the view I’ve seen my whole life: peaks surrounding us and mist-covered depths below. I realize I’m standing in the place where my ancestors first migrated from, and that’s a heady thought too.

  Ready to see what this place has to offer? Li Wei asks.

  He walks over to me to undo the ropes that have bound us together. His hands work deftly on the knots around my waist, and I hope it’s not obvious that I’m holding my breath. Again I am amazed at how delicate his touch is for someone so large. When he finishes, his hands linger on my waist a fraction longer than they need to, and then he steps back.

  Do you know where to go? I ask.

  He puts a hand up to his eyes and scans around, taking in the sun’s position over our mountain. We spent a lot of time in the empty village, and it will be evening soon. After a little scrutiny, he points to the north.

  That is where our zip line descends. We’ve gotten a bit off course climbing down. We’ll need to go over there to find its end—to find the line keeper.

  I glance down at my dirty clothes and scraped hands, then make note of the late hour. Maybe we should rest and clean up tonight, I say. We aren’t in any condition to parlay with a man like him.

  Li Wei nods in agreement and adds, It might very well be dark by the time we make it to his station. Let’s explore a little and see if there’s a good place for a camp. He gestures around the expanse of woods. Any preference?

  I shake my head. You choose.

  He hesitates and then pulls out the little pixiu statue. He flips it once in the air and then skillfully catches it one-handed. The pixiu is facing east. Li Wei puts it back in his pack and says, East it is.

  We walk off into the eastern copse of woods, and I am particularly vigilant. I’ve learned that humans make a lot of noise in overgrown forest like this, so I’m mindful of sounds that might indicate we aren’t alone. We run into nothing and no one troublesome, however, and soon find a small glen where a bubbling brook pools slightly before running off through the woods. It’s a good spot to rest and clean, though we are nervous about lighting a fire when we might be close to civilized lands. Fortunately it’s warmer at this lower elevation, and we decide we can endure the night without a blaze.

  You brought extra clothes to meet the line keeper? Li Wei asks when he sees me getting out the other set I took from the school.

  I shrug. It just seemed practical. I wasn’t thinking about him at the time, but now I’m glad. I want to represent our village honorably.

  I guess I’ll represent ours the only way I can, he says, giving a wry glance to his own shirt. It’s one of the dingy miners’ garments, now torn and dappled with blood from the journey down. He left the white mourning shirt back in the village. But then, I’m a barbarian, so it’s to be expected.

  Perhaps we can clean it, I say, though I’m not so certain. Let me see it.

  He takes off his shirt without hesitation, and I try not to let my jaw drop. We engaged in all sorts of adventures and games as children, but none of them involved his shirt coming off. It’s impossible not to be aware of his strength and build even when he’s dressed. Without the shirt, he’s like one of the invincible heroes from the stories my father used to tell us. I take the shirt from him and try not to think about what Elder Lian would say about this situation I’ve inadvertently put myself in.

  There’s a boulder overgrown with moss nearby with a cuplike depression in its center. I pour water into it and do my best to soak and scrub the shirt, making a little progress—but not much. I’m fighting against dirt gathered from much more than just this journey. The linen is probably permanently dyed the color of the mines.

  I didn’t think artists had to do their own laundry, he remarks as I work.

  I lift my wet hands to make a retort but stop when inspiration hits. I go back to my pack and find my belt pouch, which I brought with me from the Peacock Court. It still contains the packets of pigment I used to bring with me on my observations. After a few moments, I select the one that makes green paint and dump its entire contents into the water. Li Wei comes up beside me, muscled arms crossed over his broad chest and a curious expression on his face. I take a deep breath, more than aware of how close he’s standing.

  If we can’t get the dirt out, maybe we can cover it up, I explain. He looks dubious, and I add, Well, it can’t be any worse. Once it’s set in the dye for a while, we’ll hang it to dry in that tree—

  My hands freeze midsentence as my eye catches something. I forget all about dyes. I forget about shirts. I even briefly forget about Li Wei as I take in this new discovery. Most of the trees around here are evergreen, but a few are deciduous and just barely showing the signs of late summer giving way to autumn. The tree I’d nodded at is one, a kind I’ve never seen before. While I don’t know what type it is, I do know what I see in its highest branches. I point, and Li Wei follows the motion, his eyes widening when he sees what I spotted.

  Fruit.

  No fruit trees grow in our village. We’ve tried planting seeds and pits on the rare occasions we receive fruit in the shipments, but they just don’t take. I’ve always known fruit comes from trees, but seeing it here in the flesh is unbelievable. Maybe Li Wei’s little statue is helping us after all. With food at su
ch a premium where we come from, it’s downright magical to find it growing on a tree in front of us, just waiting for us to pick and eat.

  If we can reach it.

  Li Wei strides over to the tree, then hesitates as he scrutinizes it more closely. I can get up there, he tells me. But I’m not sure if the branches can support my weight—especially the high ones.

  They can support my weight, I say confidently.

  He looks me over, glances at the tree, and then looks back at me. It can probably support ten of you. We just need to get you up there. He beckons me over and holds out his arms to lift me.

  My indecision over his half-naked state and Elder Lian’s disapproval is short-lived. I let go of my fears, and suddenly it is like we are children again, off on some adventure in the woods. I step forward, and he grips my waist, his strong hands careful as he raises me. I stretch my arms up but can’t quite reach the lowest branch. Li Wei shifts, sliding his hands down so that he can hold me up by my legs and raise me higher. For a moment, I lose my balance as he adjusts, and I slip down. He catches me before I can fall, and for the space of a heartbeat, he holds me in his arms, our bodies pressed together.

  As I meet his eyes, noting how very close we are, I think, No, we are not children.

  He seems to be thinking the same thing, and a flush fills his cheeks. Quickly, he boosts me up again, holding me by my ankles so that I can reach higher. Resolutely, I push aside thoughts of the way his arms felt or how the lingering scent of sandalwood still clings to him. My fingers make contact with a limb, and from there I’m at last able to swing myself up and begin scaling the rest of the tree’s branches. They’re small and thin, but I find enough that can support me until I reach the fruit at the very top.

  Up close, I see it’s almost at the end of its season and starting to wither. I pluck one and sniff, grinning when I recognize persimmon. It’s a rare treat in our village, occasionally given to us chopped up with other food. I glance down at Li Wei, who is watching me anxiously.