Soundless by Richelle Mead
I stop in front of her when the others have gone, and she quickly signs to me, Please don’t, Fei. You’ll only make things worse.
I flinch at the insinuation, that it’s me who’s brought her to this position. You’re safe, I tell her. That’s what matters. I just wanted you to be okay.
She stares off for a moment and sighs heavily before answering. I will be okay today. Tomorrow and the next day as well. Beyond that? Who can say? But there’s no point worrying that far ahead. I’ll just focus on getting by one day at a time and hope that my vision lasts a little longer.
Another apprentice comes down the hall just then. He nods politely to me and then does a double take, recognizing Zhang Jing. He gapes for a moment, seeing her in the servant’s outfit, then looks embarrassed to be caught staring. He quickly averts his eyes and hurries past. Glancing over at Zhang Jing, I see the mortification in her face.
You should go before anyone else sees you, she says. Don’t call any more attention to either of us. Your position still brings great prestige to our family.
I’m sorry, I tell her, feeling tears spring to my eyes. I didn’t mean for this to happen.
None of us meant for any of this to happen, she says simply. We must make the best of a bad situation. And I know you did the best you could.
She takes her broom and continues working her way down the hall, leaving me feeling terrible. Did I do the best I could? Was there something else I could have done to help her? Her words bring back what Li Wei said to me before he stormed off: Just getting by one more day isn’t good enough anymore. There must be more to life, more to hope for.
A lump forms in my throat as the full impact of what he meant hits me. Zhang Jing has resigned herself to nothing more than hoping for short-term survival, hoping the blindness will stay away one day more, prolonging the time until she joins the beggars. It is a terrible, dreary existence. It’s no kind of existence at all.
As she disappears around a corner, I suddenly find myself walking toward the nearest door. My plans for the library are forgotten, and instead I join the others going down to the heart of the village for Bao’s sunset funeral. I’m not sure what it is that draws me. At first, I think that Zhang Jing’s plight has driven home the tragedy of what happened to Bao. But when I reach the edge of the crowd gathered for the ceremony, I understand what has really drawn me here.
Li Wei.
For the first time in a while, that dazzling childhood memory doesn’t immediately come to mind as I stare at him. That inescapable attraction and the emotional fallout from joining the artists still burns within me, but it too is momentarily subdued. What pulls me to him now is his sense of loss and his rage at the situation our people are locked into. It resonates with the pain I feel over Zhang Jing, and although I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to me, I know have to try.
He stands near the front of the crowd, his back straight and tall and his face proud and almost haughty. As usual, though, it’s his eyes that betray his otherwise tough exterior. I see the emotion brimming in them, and my own heart aches in answer. I know him well enough to understand that he’s using every ounce of self-control to remain calm in front of the others. I wish I could run forward and clasp his hands, let him know it’s okay to grieve and show how he feels.
He wears a white shirt, undoubtedly borrowed from a community source. In the old days, it was written, every villager would come out in white for a funeral. When trade down the mountain became restricted, however, our clothing supply diminished. Now only the immediate family is granted white, from a closely guarded communal supply. Even though the color has sad connotations, I’m moved by how striking Li Wei looks when he’s cleaned up and in something other than those muddy work clothes. It’s not something I’ve seen very much. He looks almost regal once the dirt is washed away, like someone who could lead and command attention, rather than toil away in a dark mine.
The priest bows before the memorial altar, which has already been set with the sacred lamp, two candles, and five cups. His assistants bring forward incense, which he adds to the altar and lights with great ceremony. Soon the scent of sandalwood wafts to where I stand. The priest goes through the familiar signs and dances, and although I watch respectfully, my mind wanders. With the blindness has come an increase in funerals, and we are all too familiar with this ceremony.
I focus again on Li Wei, thinking about his words and his conviction. Did he mean what he said? Is he really going to attempt to leave and go down the mountain? Perhaps he was only speaking in anger . . . yet, as I study him closely, something tells me what he said wasn’t an impulse. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been planning his journey for a long time. He simply needed a strong enough reason to spur him on; his father’s death provided it.
My thoughts are suddenly, jarringly interrupted by a noise that nearly makes me jump out of my own skin. It’s a sign of both my internal struggles and my ability to adapt that in only a couple of days, I’ve learned to tune out many background noises. Noises that initially overwhelmed me. Now, in this short time, I find myself ignoring many common sounds and focusing on those that either directly affect me or are particularly noticeable.
This one sets my teeth on edge, and I search for its source. In the priest’s direction, one of his assistants has just struck a ceremonial gong. My eyes widen as I realize that monstrous noise was caused by a gesture I’d seen countless times at funerals and other rituals. I never realized that noise was the end result. I look around, desperate to see if anyone else reacted. But they’re all respectfully watching the priest—well, everyone except the older woman standing next to me who noticed when I flinched.
Do you know why they hit the gong? I ask.
The woman bows in acknowledgment to my station and then answers: It is to scare evil spirits who might delay the deceased’s journey. She pauses. That is what my grandmother told me, at least. I don’t know why hitting it scares them. Perhaps it is magical.
I thank her and turn back to the ceremony. Despite the grim circumstances, I almost want to smile. I’m not sure I believe in that kind of superstition, but I certainly understand how our ancestors thought the gong could frighten away evil spirits! All this time, I’d had no idea of its true purpose. No one did. For generations, the priests have just continued using the gong out of habit, long after anyone could hear it anymore. I wonder how many other things like this were lost to us when sound disappeared.
And why, I ask myself for the hundredth time, am I the only one who has had this sense restored?
When the funeral ends, Li Wei is surrounded by those wishing to offer condolences. A number of them are girls our age, and while they look legitimately sorry for his loss, part of me questions their motives. I can’t be the only one who goes weak-kneed around him, and I really don’t know how he’s spent his free time since I joined the artists. It’d be reasonable for him to turn his attentions to someone else. The thought troubles me more than it should, considering how Sheng and I were matched. When the last of Li Wei’s sympathizers leaves, I follow him as he walks alone from the village’s center. I pass a cluster of beggars as I do, their sad plight bringing Zhang Jing to mind. My resolve strengthens, and I tap Li Wei’s shoulder when he heads down a path that leads to a group of small houses. He turns, looking surprised to see me—and possibly a little exasperated, considering how we last left things.
What do you want? he asks. His harsh response is almost enough to make me flinch.
Mustering my courage, I bow and give the proper condolences offered in these situations. I am very sorry for the loss of your father. May his spirit live in immortality.
Thank you, Li Wei responds, but he is clearly suspicious that there is more to come.
I make sure no one else is around before dropping the formalities: Are you still planning on leaving?
His face hardens. Yes. Why? Are you going to tell someone? Try to g
No. He regards me expectantly, and I take a deep breath, summoning my strength. I . . . I want to come with you.
The words fly from my hands before I can stop them. The idea has been brewing in the back of my mind all evening, but until I said it, I hadn’t consciously realized that’s what I was going to do. Zhang Jing’s plight has made me realize that things will never change . . . unless someone makes them change.
Li Wei stares incredulously at me and then lets out a laugh with a harsh edge to it.
You? Pampered, prized apprentice? You aren’t that bold little girl anymore. Stop wasting my time. I have things to do. He shakes his head and starts to walk away, but I catch his sleeve. Remembering the effect touching him had on me last time, I’m careful to promptly let go and keep a respectful distance.
What bold little girl? I ask, puzzled.
He hesitates. The one who climbed the rotten shed even though she knew it was dangerous. Just to prove she could. I thought you were so brave back then. Brave and bold and beautiful. I always believed that over the years until . . . well, you’ve changed.
My heart lurches at all the misunderstandings that have arisen between us. I haven’t, I say. Look, I thought about what you said, about how it isn’t enough to just keep getting by day after day as we are. I saw my sister . . . and she’s exactly like that. Not happy with her life but convinced there’s nothing more. I can’t let her go on like that, with nothing else to hope for. I want to help you. I want to talk to the keeper too and see if there’s a way to change things.
It all comes out in a jumble, not nearly as eloquent as I’d hoped. Li Wei studies me for several long moments. The earlier rain clouds have passed. With the sun down and the moon still rising, torches light the paths around the village, casting flickering light and shadows, but I can see well enough to know he’s trying to decide if I’m speaking the truth. Unless I’m mistaken, I even see a flash of hope in his eyes, as though he too wonders if there might be a way to repair our past.
At last, he shakes his head again. No. It’s too dangerous, Fei. You wouldn’t be able to handle it. I’m already going to have my work cut out for me keeping myself alive. I can’t allow myself to worry about you the whole time.
I won’t be a burden! I insist. I can help you.
Now he looks amused. How? Will you win the line keeper over by drawing him a picture?
I sigh in irritation. Clap your hands, I tell him.
He stares in understandable confusion. I gesture impatiently, and with a shrug, he claps three times. The sounds are short and loud.
Now do it again, I say, just before turning around. I wait and hear nothing. After several seconds pass, I look back and glare. You didn’t clap.
He looks a little surprised but shrugs. What’s the point?
Just do it, I insist. I turn my back to him, and this time he claps. I face him once more. You just clapped three times.
His face is understandably puzzled at this exercise, but he doesn’t yet seem to grasp that anything unusual is happening. So? That’s what I did before.
Then clap a different number of times, and I’ll tell you the amount. Seeing his baffled look, I add, Do it.
He claps four times, and I tell him the number. Then two. Then seven. The last time, he doesn’t clap at all, and when I turn around, his eyes are impossibly wide.
You didn’t clap that time, I say.
How are you doing this? he asks.
I steel myself, working up the courage to state what I can barely believe myself. I can hear the sounds—they’re caused when you clap. I don’t understand it, but somehow my hearing has returned. I hear this. I hear all sorts of things.
The idea is so ludicrous, so beyond our everyday experience, that Li Wei can’t even try to take it seriously. He looks at me like we’re children again, caught up in a game. It’s some kind of trick. Come on, Fei. Tell me how you’re really doing it.
It’s not a trick! I tell him. It’s been going on for almost two days, and I don’t understand it. That’s why I was so distracted earlier when your father died. Li Wei . . . you’re the first person I’ve told. You must believe me.
He scrutinizes me intently. It’s impossible, he says, though his expression isn’t so certain. Hearing is gone for us.
Not for me, I say.
Why just you then?
I wish I knew. . . . You can’t even begin to imagine what this has been like. The burden of carrying this secret is catching up with me, and I think Li Wei is beginning to realize this. His expression softens, filling with an affection I haven’t seen in him in a long time. Out of habit, he reaches for me, wanting to comfort me like he might have in our childhood.
I nearly let him, but the importance of what’s at stake enables me to push aside my own desires. Stepping back, I try to look tough. Look, I say, believe me or not, but the point is, I can help you on this trip. Maybe I can communicate with the line keeper. I can certainly help in other ways. I pick up a small stone on the path’s side and hand it to Li Wei. Throw it at one of these trees. I turn around again and wait. After a pause, I hear a sharp sound off to my left. When I face him again, I point in that direction. There. You threw it over there.
It’s impossible, he repeats. But I can see in his face that, despite whatever reason is telling him otherwise, he’s daring to believe my story. How? How did this happen? Fei, you must have some idea!
I don’t, I say. I really don’t. But it seems to be here to stay, and as long as I’ve got it, it can be helpful. If I can hear where you just threw the stone, I’ll be able to hear when stones are falling on the climb down.
His breath catches as understanding hits him, and for the first time in our acquaintance, he is at a loss for words. At last, he lifts his hands to speak. Perhaps . . . perhaps you might be useful on this trip after all.
CHAPTER 6
WHEN I RETURN TO THE dormitory later that night, I’m certain that everyone will notice my nervousness and excitement, but much like my hearing, the storm of emotions churning inside is apparent only to me. The other apprentices who went to the funeral have returned, and everyone is preparing for bed. I’m certain if Zhang Jing had still been in my room, she would have noticed something was amiss. But my sister is on the other side of the school, with the servants.
I change for bed and slip under the covers dutifully, just like all the other girls in my room. Darkness descends, lit only by peeps of moonlight shining through the edges of the blinds. Soon my roommates fall into sleep, and the room is filled with the soft sounds of what I’ve come to recognize as breathing. Sometimes I find that sound oddly soothing, but tonight I’m too anxious to give it much thought. I have hours to wait until I can spring into action, and my mind is spinning with all the things that can go wrong on the journey I’m about to embark upon with Li Wei.
It took some time for us to come up with a plan. Neither of us was sure if anyone would try to stop us when we left. It isn’t that climbing down is forbidden; it’s just that no one has ever really attempted to do it. Both of us are valued for different reasons: I am valued for my artistic skill set, and he is valued because of the village’s burning need to mine more metals. It’s possible others might prevent us from leaving simply to keep us in the workforce. Leaving under cover of darkness will be our best chance of escape.
That will make our descent even more dangerous, but the moon is full and bright tonight. We will get our start by its light and be far enough down by sunrise that no one can stop us. Around that time, most villagers will still be getting up and preparing for the day, walking to the center to read the record. My absence will be noticed before Li Wei’s, but it seems unlikely the masters will guess where I’ve gone.
The hours drag by as I lie in bed, analyzing our plan and how I’m going to proceed. I know rest will help me, but I can’t risk sleeping and missing when I n
I’m not familiar with the servants’ wing. We have more rooms in the Peacock Court than we have need for, and it takes me a few tries to find the laundry room. I strip off my nightgown and change into a clean set of apprentice clothes intended for a boy. They’re the same blue I usually wear, but instead of a girl’s long skirt, they have pants paired with a wrap top. Wearing them feels a little strange at first, but I know they’ll be infinitely more practical than my skirt for climbing. The laundry room also has a small knapsack that I take, adding a spare change of clothes for myself.
I next make my way to the kitchen. It too has a servant on watch, and I recognize her as the intimidating head cook. She sits in a chair near the back door, sewing by the light of a small lamp to keep herself awake. I’m not sure if her presence is a result of the recent theft or a precaution always taken. All I know is that if she catches me, my rank won’t save me from her wrath. At the moment, her focus is on her sewing, and she’s angled in such a position as to allow me some freedom of movement out of her sight.
She doesn’t see me slipping in through the door that leads to the rest of the school, and I creep around the kitchen, watching her carefully and listening for any signs of movement. Several times, she shifts position and forces me to duck or seek other cover. I find a table where lunches for the coming day have been prepared and neatly laid out. It’s the kind of food meant to be packed and stored easily, ideal for the journey I’m about to undertake.