Soundless (21 page)

I AM AWAKE BEFORE
my roommates, as usual, because I hear the servant in the hall. She sets down a pitcher of water and turns the crank that shakes our beds. One by one, the other girls awaken, yawning and stretching as they try to throw off the heaviness of sleep. Many are reluctant to leave their covers, for autumn is upon us and the room is cold.

Zhang Jing pulls the blankets around her like a hood, pouting when she sees my grin.
Time to wake up
, I tell her.
Don't worry—the sun will warm things soon. It's not winter yet.

Since the pixius returned to our village two months ago, things have changed considerably. Before, I led a good life as a star apprentice among the artists. Now my life isn't just good—it's full of meaning. Until recently, I hadn't realized there was a difference.

I don my blue robes, and Zhang Jing puts on her green ones. The fabric of hers is new, acquired from recent trade, and I confess I am a little bit jealous. We finish our hair and check each
other over as usual and then head off to join the others for breakfast. The dining room is much more crowded these days, but we manage to find two spots together at one of the low tables. The Peacock Court has become not just a residence for artists but for students of agriculture as well, and at last those empty rooms are being put to use.

Breakfast is still fast and efficient. Everyone knows the last nice days of autumn will be ending soon, and the gardeners are anxious to go about their work for the day. They leave before the artists do, Zhang Jing going with them in a flurry of green. I wave, signing that I will see her later.

We artists finish our meals soon thereafter and then go to the workroom to touch up the record we started last night. That part of our lives hasn't changed, though the content of what we paint certainly has. We no longer diligently record the amounts of metals we mine and send to the township—because we no longer give them anything. Metals are still pulled out as offerings to the pixius and for help in our fledgling trade with those few merchants who've been brave enough to come up the mountain passes. After the defeat of the township's army, King Jianjun declared our village anathema, but the lure of our buried riches was enough to draw some daring souls out against his orders.

The record reflects news of that trade as well as of our preparations for the winter to come. Food is still a concern, especially now that we no longer can rely on regular shipments from the township. Our early attempts at trade have certainly been useful in alleviating the problem, but we still have much to do. Along with
a small supply of livestock, we've also acquired seeds for some root vegetables that are hearty enough to grow in the autumn. When the passes were blown open, we were again given access to the pockets of fertile valleys that our ancestors cultivated. Wild berry bushes and fruit trees have grown there all these years and were in full fruit when we found them, giving us a jump start on our winter supplies. Our hope is that if we can yield a crop of vegetables and grow our livestock in those valleys, we can make it through until spring offers more possibilities.

Today's record also documents the activities of the pixius. They live openly on the mountain now, sometimes interacting with us and sometimes keeping to themselves. Those of us who still mine give the pixius offerings of metals, and in return we have enjoyed some of the healing that being in the creatures' presence offers. There have been no new cases of blindness, and those who were starting to lose their vision have progressed no further. To regain the senses fully, however, requires a pixiu's bonding. So far, only two humans in our village have been chosen for this. I am one of them.

My task in the record today is the kind of work I've always dreamed of: I am painting Yin Feng. I was up late last night working on her, and I still feel as though the work is incomplete. I've even been given access to special metallic paints, but no matter how many times I go over that rippling, glimmering coat, it just doesn't seem good enough.

You will drive yourself crazy
, Elder Chen tells me, coming to stand by my canvas.
It is time for them to take this to the village's center. You've done excellent work.

I sigh and look at my portrait.
It's not perfect.

He smiles kindly.
Perfection is an admirable thing to strive for. But so is knowing when to stop.

I take the hint and set my brush down.
Thank you, master.

He nods toward the other apprentices as they gather up the canvases.
They will take care of this now. You should go on to your posts, both of you.

This last bit is directed to me and Jin Luan, who is painting nearby. She is the other human who was chosen by a pixiu, the only other human—so far—to have her hearing restored. It is something I'm still coming to terms with. Despite our past rivalry, I am happy that such a great thing has happened to her. And it isn't lost on me that Elder Chen's two apprentices are, as far as the pixius are concerned, the most visually minded of us all. It reflects well on him, and I know he is proud, maybe even a little wistful.

But there is a selfish part of me that hopes those I am close to—specifically Zhang Jing and Li Wei—will be chosen by pixius too. I want them to share this journey of hearing with me, to understand what it's like to have all our senses restored. So far, the rest of the pixius are taking their time in choosing humans—if they ever will. I try not to be impatient, knowing it is a special and honored relationship that not everyone is ready for. And for pixius, who live much longer than humans, there especially seems to be no rush.

Jin Luan and I bow to Elder Chen and then leave the rest of our peers to transport the canvas. She and I step outside into the
crisp autumn day, which is still cold but bright with the promise of sunshine. As we walk through the village, we see others out beginning their days as well. Some are gathering and waiting to see the record before going to work. Others, like the gardeners, have already set out on their tasks to make the most of daylight.

One such group we pass makes me frown. It is a small group of villagers working with Xiu Mei's father. Disgruntled with the king's rule, Xiu Mei and her father left the Red Myrtle Inn and came here when word spread of our village reconnecting with the world. His limp from the army is no deterrent, and his skills and knowledge are all still sharp. He has found work here training some of our young people how to be warriors, something else I feel conflicted about. After the attack from the township's army, I can understand the need for self-defense . . . but it saddens me to see my people turning down this path.

Jin Luan and I soon leave them behind as we move on from the village limits and out into one of the fertile valleys opened by the army's explosives. Gardeners are already at work, moving among the trees and plants in their green robes. I easily spot Zhang Jing kneeling in one of the vegetable gardens. Thanks to the pixius, her vision has not worsened, and she has discovered that her other senses—smell and touch—are strong and make her particularly well suited for this job. Even from this distance I can see her smile as she works, giving her more enjoyment here than she had as an artist.

Xiu Mei is late
, Jin Luan remarks, glancing around.
Again.

She is probably sleeping in
, I say with a smile. With her
knowledge of both silent and vocal language, Xiu Mei became an obvious choice to teach Jin Luan and me how to speak. We are not very good at it, and I often dread these lessons. Elder Chen knows of my distaste but reminds me there may come a time when those in our village are going to have to communicate with the outside world. As one of the pixius' chosen, that responsibility falls on me.

If you're lucky, maybe she'll sleep a little longer
, says Jin Luan slyly. At first, I think she's acknowledging my dislike of the lessons, but then she nods off toward the side of the valley.
I think someone would like to talk to you.

I follow where she gestures and feel myself blush. Li Wei is there, an axe in hand, working on one of the garden fences. As though he can feel our gazes, he pauses to wipe sweat from his brow and turns in our direction. Jin Luan nudges me.

Go!
she says.
Xiu Mei may sleep all morning.

He watches me as I make my way over.
Language lessons?
he asks when I get close.

I nod.
But the teacher is late. What are you doing out here so early?

He points to the wooden fence he is working on.
The gardeners got some peas and green beans from a merchant and want to try planting them. If the true cold holds off just a little longer, they think we might get a small crop before winter, so I'm building these for the vines to grow on.

I thought you were going to work on your carving?
I ask.

I will. And I do sometimes at night.
He shrugs.
But the
carving can wait. There are so many things to do . . . still so much rebuilding.

He's right. There's much uncertainty in our world right now, and our bruised village must use all its resources to survive this coming winter, particularly with King Jianjun's eye still upon us. This is a hopeful time for my people—but also a fearful one. Li Wei's brawn is of more value to our people right now than the burgeoning talent within him. I respect that but hope that someday the creativity within him will shine through and attract a pixiu. It is a secret wish I haven't dared express to him or anyone else.

In his usual way, Li Wei tries to distract me with a cheery thought.
Come over here
, he says.
I want your artistic opinion on something.
He beckons me toward a recently built supply shed used to house gardening tools. We walk to the far side of it, putting us out of sight of Jin Luan and the other gardeners. I peer at the shed's side, trying to figure out what he wants me to look at.

What is it?
I ask.

This
, he says, sweeping me into a powerful kiss. His lips touch mine, and an intoxicating heat spreads through me as he leans me against the shed. I put my arms around him and melt into him, amazed at how perfectly we seem to go together, despite our many differences.
Harmony
, I think. I'm still figuring out what exactly this thing between Li Wei and me is, but one thing I know is that it makes me feel stronger. There is a lot about the future we still don't know, but somehow, if he is by my side, I feel I can take on whatever is waiting for us.

You tricked me
, I sign when we briefly break apart.

I did
, he admits.
And that's why you'll never beat me in xiangqi.

Because you cheat?
I tease.

Yes. And don't forget that I'm a barbarian.

That's true
, I agree.
It's a wonder I even let myself be seen with you.

I'm glad you do
, he says.
Because I've spoken with the elders . . . and they've given permission for us to marry.

I stare, wondering if I misunderstood.
They have?

He gestures around him.
The world has changed, Fei. There's no rank anymore, no artists lording above miners.

It's true what he says. Most of our people have taken on new vocations as we work to rebuild our village. Those who still labor in the mines, generating metals for the pixius and outside trade, are regarded with as much esteem as everyone else. The old ways have fallen. We are all equal now.

Us . . . married
, I say, still unable to believe it.

I knew we'd find a way to be together. I knew we'd always walk by each other's sides in this world.
His smile grows.
And I did tell you we'd find another reason for you to wear the silk, didn't I?
The knowing look in his eyes suddenly turns uncertain.
That is, if you want to get married—

By way of answer, I throw myself back into his arms and kiss him again, finally having the satisfaction of surprising him for a change. A new joy floods through me, and my imagination is filled not with things I might paint but with all the dazzling
opportunities our future together holds.
Yes
, I say when I can finally bring myself to pull away from him and speak.
Yes and yes. As many yeses as it takes to—

A loud sound on the other side of the shed makes me flinch and break off my ecstatic babbling. I jump back from Li Wei, who is startled in turn by my reaction. Walking around the building, I see Yin Feng has landed in the grass. The wind rustles her glittering fur, making me wish I could've spent more time on her portrait today.

You are ruining our moment
, I tell her. She doesn't understand signs, but I think she perceives my meaning. I feel a flash of amusement from her, and then she busies herself preening. Beyond her, I see other glittering forms landing in the valley. Even when the pixius aren't directly interacting with us, they seem to take comfort just from being in our presence. The feeling is mutual, and Li Wei's arms encircle my waist as we observe the others land and stretch out in the sun. Happiness burns through me, and I lean my head against him. Across the valley, I see others, including Zhang Jing, also pausing to watch the pixius.

Below this mountain, the world is dangerous and uncertain. But here, for now, we have beauty and hope again, not to mention the strength of our loved ones beside us. It is enough to weather any storm, I decide. It is more than enough.

Acknowledgments

There's always a village behind any book I write. First and foremost among them are my family, and I'm so grateful for the way they patiently support me as I endure the many ups and downs that a creative person seems to go through each day! My “publishing family” has been just as amazing. Many thanks to literary agent Jim McCarthy for handling a million things behind the scenes and to the incredible team at Razorbill—particularly editor Jessica Almon, whose insight and skill helped make this book happen.

On the research side, I'm indebted to linguistics professor Katharine Hunt for letting me contact her out of the blue for help in better understanding language acquisition and hearing loss. Thank you also to Judy Liu for assistance with both the Mandarin language and the cultures of Taiwan and China.

Lastly, I owe an endless debt to my amazing readers. Thank you for inspiring me and loving what I
do.