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I drag my gaze from the horses and try to assess what else is happening. I hear more of those sounds—speech sounds—like I heard the line keeper using, and I’m both perplexed and intrigued. The noises are nonsensical, but some intrinsic part of me understands that they are a means of communication, the sort of vocalization referred to in our ancient records. I wonder how long it takes to learn speech like that. I’m already swimming in more sounds and stimuli than I can keep track of. In fact, the mixture of so many different noises coming from so many different people is starting to make my head hurt again.
But even if I can’t understand the words, I recognize the signs of quarrel. The man sitting in the lead wagon is even fatter than the line keeper, and it’s clear he’s upset about something. The guards appear equally annoyed, and the sounds coming out of all their mouths grow increasingly louder as the discussion continues. The animosity radiating from all of them unnerves me.
At one point, the man in the wagon opens a crate and lifts out a bolt of yellow silk. Li Wei and I both gasp. Never have I seen such a thing. Any silk that made its way to our village was already in scraps, at best, used only as adornment for those of high rank. To see a swathe of it like this is mesmerizing. Equally astonishing is its color, a rich, vibrant gold that is far superior to any dye we’ve ever managed to manufacture.
Perhaps he is the king , suggests Li Wei. How else would he have such luxury? It would also explain how he’s able to eat so much.
I don’t think so , I reply, observing the argument. I don’t think the guards would be having this kind of dispute with a king.
The guards eventually insist on checking every crate in the wagon, much to the annoyance of their owner and those in line on the road. Several people, apparently the man’s servants, look weary and wander from the wagon as the guards conduct their search. I continue watching with wide eyes as more and more exquisite bolts of silk are revealed in an unending rainbow of colors. Only in my dreams have I envisioned such radiance.
How will we get in? asks Li Wei. If they’re this cautious about cloth, they’re probably extra suspicious of outsiders—especially based on the line keeper’s reaction.
I agree, and an answer suddenly presents itself. The wagon search finishes, and the fat man makes a loud sound that brings the meandering servants scurrying back. I grab Li Wei’s arm and hurry us forward into the crowd. With so many people waiting and mingling about, nobody pays attention to us. The search completed, the guards are eager to wave the silk owner and his retinue through. Li Wei and I fall in behind some of the servants and move quickly as the guards direct us to the gates.
Just as we are about to step through, a guard suddenly steps out in front of us, holding a long pointed spear to block our way. He utters a series of harsh sounds that leave me staring stupidly. A handful of servants have come to a stop with us, and the guard’s eyes rake over all of us as he repeats those sounds. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, and I feel Li Wei tensing beside me as he braces for confrontation. Somehow, we’ve been spotted as outsiders.
The guard repeats himself a third time, and it’s obvious he’s getting upset. I wish desperately that I understood what he wants. The temptation to sign is overwhelming, but before I can, I hear a voice answer quietly near us. It is another servant. The guard fixes his eyes on her, and she shrinks back in fear, pointing up at the fat man on the wagon. The guard looks up and issues his challenge once more.
Standing this close to the fat man, I notice he holds a small flask that he continually drinks from. He sits unsteadily on his perch and regards the guard with a mix of bleariness and disdain. Alcohol is rare in our village, but I’ve seen it and recognize the signs of drunkenness. At the guard’s question, the fat man glances at the crowd of servants around his cart and shrugs, which only seems to make the guard angrier. The guard looks around and begins pointing at each person with his finger. Counting, I realize. He says something to the fat man, and the man shakes his head adamantly. He then begins counting the heads of all the servants and looks mildly surprised when he finishes.
I hold my breath as I realize what must be happening. The guards are demanding a count of the servants, and Li Wei and I have thrown off the numbers. Taking his hand, I turn him so that we are angled slightly away from the fat man, keeping our faces from him. Drunk or not, surely he’ll recognize we’re not his if he gets a good look. He and the guards have another heated discourse, and I am prepared for the worst, expecting them to require all the servants to line up for inspection.
We are saved when another guard comes up to the first and whispers something while gesturing at the long line on the road. Apparently the difference in opinion about the number of servants is paling next to the inconvenience of the holdup on the road. After several more tense moments, the guards wave the wagon and servants through, much to the fat man’s delight. He toasts the guards with his flask, earning a scowl from the first one.
And after a few short steps, Li Wei and I are inside the township.
My earlier quick thinking grinds to a halt, and my steps slow. Everything around us is so crowded and in motion, we’re in danger of being swept away in it. Li Wei has enough of his senses to realize we can’t just stand around, lest we be trampled, and grabs my hand, leading us forward. We trail in the wake of the silk wagon, gazing around at the sights before us. It’s hard to know where to look. The number of people alone would be enough of a spectacle for me, but there’s so much more than that. The buildings are bigger than anything I’ve ever seen, made of ornate materials as opposed to the simple thatch we use. Many of the structures are decorated and painted, and I wonder what Elder Chen would think of all of it. Our paint is strictly hoarded for communication.
