Soundless

by Richelle Mead

  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.

  Someone at the base of the mountain is winding the line back down.

  CHAPTER 14

  FOR A FEW TERRIFYING SECONDS, I don’t know what to do. Then, seeing all the precious ground I’ve made slipping away from me, I frantically begin climbing up the line again, desperate to outpace whoever is pulling down below. It’s too late at night for the line keeper to be back at his post. I wonder whether the soldiers finally deduced what happened to me. Or is it possible that they forced Li Wei to talk and interpreted with the help of one of Nuan’s people?

  That last thought—of what they might have had to do to get Li Wei to reveal my location—is too horrible to endure. I push it out of my mind as I fight to regain my position and move faster than the line is being lowered. I barely manage it, but I know I can’t sustain it. It was already excruciating going up when I didn’t have someone working against me. Now I can already feel myself losing the battle. My hands—bloody and raw through the now-tattered gloves—slip a number of times, delaying me as the strained ropes catch me and force me to get a new and increasingly painful hold. My distance gained shrinks, and soon I’m almost at a standstill. In moments, I will be descending again.

  I glance down, desperate for a way out. In the moonlight, I see a wide, rocky ledge jutting out from the cliff’s side below me. It won’t be a comfortable drop, but I can make it and survive. What I’ll do from there remains to be seen, but it’s either that or let all my progress vanish as my unseen opponent pulls me back down.

  In a second, my decision is made.

  I wiggle my way out of the loose safety ropes, an action that costs me some elevation as I’m jerked back down the line. I suppose now I don’t have to worry about whether the ropes will hold my weight anymore. Once free, I grit my teeth and summon more of that desperate strength to climb forward against the pull, enough to get myself in a safe position over the ledge. It is grueling work, made more terrifying by the knowledge that I have no security and will plummet to the depths below if my hands fail me.

  I manage, barely getting situated above the outcropping before my strength gives out and I let go of the zip line, dropping down to the ledge, making sure to pull the security rope along with me. It and I land in an ungraceful, jarring heap, and it’s a relief not to be fighting anymore. That relief is short-lived, however, as the force of swinging into the cliff triggers a cascade of rocks from above. I cringe against the mountain’s side until the avalanche passes, praying the ledge I’m standing on won’t crumble beneath me as well.

  When the avalanche finally ceases, I’m almost too afraid to move for fear of what might happen next. The muscles in my arms and legs are weak and shaking from their exertion, and as I gaze down across the vast blackness of the mountain slope, I’m a bit in awe of the distance I’ve managed to cover. I can only ju
st make out a tiny point of light at what I think is the zip line’s terminus; presumably it’s held by whoever pulled me back. I shudder to think of what would have happened if I hadn’t been able to jump to safety.

  Of course, now I have a whole new set of problems.

  In the phantom lighting, I can see the face of the mountain leading up to my village. It is jagged and irregular, filled with places to get a hand- or foothold or even use the rope for support. The distance is also a fraction of what I’ve already covered, but it’s still going to be painstaking work. I can’t do it just yet, no matter the press of time. I sit down to catch my breath, rummaging through the pack for some water and a bite to eat. As I search, I find one of the game pieces—the general—and I smile. Just before we parted, Li Wei had considered giving me the pixiu for luck. It ended up staying with him because of weight issues, but apparently he still wanted me to have some token of fortune. I squeeze the wooden disc tight in my hand, willing myself to be worthy of his regard. Then I say a prayer to all the gods I know, hoping that we all come out of this safely.

  When I feel as rested as I think I’m going to get, given the conditions, I steel myself for the next part of this journey: getting back to my village. Li Wei told me a little about how we’d ascend the mountain again, and I know some of the basic principles. My destination is within my sight; it’s just a matter of getting to it. I have the rope I salvaged from the zip line, and I use it to begin the first part of the climb. I am able to throw it high and hook it around a jagged rock outcropping, locking it securely so that I can scale the cliff face.

  But when I reach the rope’s end, there is no other place to secure a rope. The zip line’s start is still far out of reach. I must climb with my hands now, praying I make the right choices and that my holds won’t crumble to dust in my fingers and send me plummeting back below. Amazingly, everything holds, but just as I’m almost finally near the end, I hear the rumblings of a small rock fall from above. Unlike before, there is nowhere to seek shelter, no rope to swing out of danger on. All I can do is cling to the mountain and hide my face, hoping this avalanche will miss me.

  Several sharp rocks strike my arms and face, causing me to flinch, and I must summon all my resolve simply to hold on and maintain my hand- and footholds. When silence returns again, I slowly lift my head, listening for further signs of trouble. None come, and I make my move, scrambling up as quickly as I dare, needing to reach the top. When I see the zip line station, I nearly cry in relief. With trembling arms, I pull myself up and grip an outcropping of rock that will let me pull myself over onto solid ground. Almost immediately, I feel the rock crumble in my hands. There’s nothing else to grasp, and I scream as I fall backward, back down the cliff into the blackness below.

  I land back-first on the ledge I was on earlier, hitting with an impact so great that it momentarily knocks the wind out of me. I lay there, gasping, staring up at all the distance I just lost. Tears spring to my eyes, and the urge to give up threatens to engulf me. I feel despair not only for myself but for Li Wei. Out on the line, I couldn’t allow myself to worry too much about him, not with my survival in the balance. Now all those fears come tumbling back. What has happened to him? Is he even alive? Worse still is the guilt of knowing that if I’d simply run away with him, I could have saved him from his fate. That would have meant abandoning Zhang Jing . . . but what does it matter? I’ve failed everyone now.

  Stop that, Fei, I tell myself sternly. All is not lost. Make Li Wei proud. You climbed down the mountain. You want to go back up it. You can see your goal—don’t give up now.

  Sniffling, hurting everywhere, I manage to make my way to my feet. I have bruises and aches in parts of my body I didn’t even know existed, but I refuse to let them master me. Gritting my teeth, I retrace this last, painstaking climb up to the top. My hands are bloodied by the time I make it up, and without the outcropping from earlier, pulling myself up at the end is much more difficult. I must rely on the strength of the rest of my body—a body pushed past its limits. For a brief moment, as I try to haul myself up and onto the mountain’s top, my muscles can’t quite do it. I am stuck there, clinging to the cliff, knowing it will take only the briefest of slips to send me plummeting back to the ledge below—or worse.

  Do it for Zhang Jing. Do it for Li Wei.

  The feel of their names in my mind gives me courage. I cry out, pulling myself over the edge, touching the rocky—but solid—ground with gratitude. It’s now the middle of the night, but against all odds, I have made it to the zip line station. I have made it home.

  I rise to my feet, my legs still weak and shaking, knowing I have no time to rest—despite how much my body is screaming to. I need to alert the others to what is happening. I press forward and nearly trip over several dark bundles on the ground near the zip line station. I can’t tell what they are in the darkness, so I kneel down to unwrap one and am astonished to find it full of glittering gold ore. Another bag reveals silver. These are mined metals, a day’s work, waiting to go down. Why are they still here, just sitting out? These would provide the day’s food.

  I know I won’t find out by sticking around. I make my way back to the heart of the village, more relieved than I can say to be in my homeland after the adventures of these last couple of days. I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to fix things or alert people, but my feet take me, almost of their own volition, back to the one place I feel safest: the Peacock Court.

  Getting inside presents a new challenge. I’m not yet ready to announce my return to the others, so I don’t want to use any of the doors that might alert one of the servants on watch. Instead, I go to an out-of-the-way window in the back of the building, one that opens near a storage room where we keep art supplies. A latticework of narrow wooden slats covers the paper windowpane, and with a grimace, I begin breaking and prying out the wooden guards. It makes a terrible amount of noise—as does the paper windowpane, when I’m finally able to rip it out—but I at least have the reassurance of knowing I’m the only one who can hear it.

  When I’ve created a big enough opening, I climb through and land just outside the supply room, as expected. From there, it’s just a matter of making my way through the school to the servants’ wing. Along the way, I dodge more servants on patrol than I recall seeing last time, which seems odd. Fortunately, their sounds alert me, and no one is on guard in the servants’ actual sleeping wing. I sneak into the women’s room, and there, just as I last saw her, is Zhang Jing sleeping in her bed.

  Although it’s only been a matter of days, I feel like years have passed since I saw my sister. My whole world has opened up on my journey. I don’t even feel like the same person. Zhang Jing is the same, though. Still sweet and beautiful, her face peaceful in sleep. I watch her for several moments, overwhelmed by my love for her, and then wipe tears back from my eyes. Trying to be as gentle but as firm as I can, I shake her awake. She stirs, blinking in confusion, and then manages to focus on me in the dimness. She gasps, her eyes widening.

  I throw my arms around her, and she buries her face in my shoulder. I have tears in my eyes again and can feel them on her face as well. When she finally pulls back to look at me, her pretty face is a mixture of emotions: confusion, relief, suspicion.

  Fei, she signs, where have you been? What’s happened? I’ve been so worried about you.

  It’s a long story, I say. But I’m okay—for now. The truth is that we’re all in danger. That’s why I’ve come back.

  What did you do? she asks. What did you do to make them stop the food?

  Now I am the confused one. What do you mean?

  Yesterday morning, she explains. The suppliers sent their first shipment of metals down the zip line. No food came up. Instead, a note came from the line keeper about betrayal and spies. No one really understood what it meant, but they kept sending metals, hoping food would come. It didn’t. The line keeper started sending the metals back.


  I think back to the glittering bundles sitting out on the ground. I saw them, I say.

  People are saying it’s your fault—yours and Li Wei’s. That you did something to anger the line keeper and—

  There is no line keeper, I interrupt. Only a group of workers who take turns pulling the line. We’ve been lied to, Zhang Jing. The notes and food come from a larger regime that’s keeping us up here to mine metals for them—metals that are toxic. That’s why we lost the ability to hear, why you and some of the others are going blind. We need to change something—to get away from this place.

  That’s impossible, she says. It’s not clear to me which of the many things I’ve just told her is causing her the most disbelief. All of them are a shock to the world she has always known.

  It’s not, I say simply. You know me. Would I lie to you?

  She meets my gaze for a very long time. No, she says at last. But maybe you’re confused. People say Li Wei is a rebel, that his grief has deluded him and that he’s corrupted you into doing something that’s angered the line keeper. If you just go to Elder Chen, I’m sure you can explain things and get your place back. Maybe we can fix things before people get too hungry.

  I don’t even bother correcting her about the line keeper. Zhang Jing, if we don’t take action, there won’t be a place for me. There won’t be anything for any of us except death and despair. We have to explain this to the others.

  But inside my heart is sinking a little as Li Wei’s warning rings true. If my own sister won’t believe what I’ve learned, how will the others? And how am I going to convey the full scope of what I’ve seen? Will anyone even listen to me? The township overlords have already done a neat job of turning my people against me, attacking in the most powerful way they can: by withholding food. Zhang Jing’s words about people getting too hungry aren’t lost on me. They are already hungry. In our village, we have at most one extra day’s supply of food at any given time. If no food came up today, the villagers would have had to use that tiny reserve and would have rationed it out pretty strictly. That’s why there were extra servants on watch tonight. No wonder people have been quick to believe the worst of Li Wei and me. They are starving and desperate, just as the township wants. Who will believe our story now? How will I even get them to pay attention?