“Why would the emperor bother with a poor silk maker? The master can barely even see, let alone cause an uprising big enough to disturb the emperor. I believe you are mistaken.” Feebly, the man lifted his arms to shoo us out the gate. When I stood my ground, locking my arms and planting my feet, his eyes skimmed over me and his voice rose in a falsetto squeak. “Please leave,” he begged. “We have nothing of value.”
Ana put her hand on his arm and her touch soothed the man. I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a natural gift Ana possessed or if it was a part of her calling, but she’d used the same trick on me and it usually worked. That is, unless it was her I was mad at. With a honeyed voice, she asked, “We humbly ask to meet with your master. It is in regards to the emperor, your master, and…and the woman he loves.”
When she said that, the man gasped and stepped back. His eyes shifted to the shadows. “You’d better come in. Hurry.”
He led us across a cobblestone path that cut through a grove of mulberry trees and paused outside the open door of a large warehouse. A strange fizzing sound emanated from the building. It reminded me of the first time Kelsey introduced me to soda, but this sound was like a thousand sodas being poured at once. It took me a few moments to realize the noise was coming from insects—silkworms.
I watched a woman scatter a pile of leaves over a large woven tray and then slide it back into place. Then she pulled out another and repeated the process. Several women inside the building were hunched over tables and cutting leaves from long branches. “Are you nearly done for the night?” our guide asked them.
One of the women came up to us carrying a large basket of what looked like tiny eggs. “Nearly,” she said.
I’d never seen silk produced before and the process fascinated me. I spotted women carefully tending to large, round woven baskets that sat in frames row upon row. Across the way, a good distance from the worms, a woman stirred a bubbling vat and yanked out cocoons with her bare hands. As I watched, other workers sifted through the cooling cocoons, pulling out the cooked worms and separating the thread from the insect.
One woman popped a handful of worms in her mouth. I could hear the crunch and realized the smell in the air was the boiled worms and not dinner. Pairs of workers unwound the cocoons while their partners rewound the threads on large spools. There were vats for dying, and colorful thread hung on large hooks drying in the rafters.
Our guide waved his hand. “Good,” he said. “Carry on. The dinner bell will sound soon.”
“Wonder what’s on the menu,” I said quietly to Ana. She gifted me with one of her rare smiles and I felt like I’d won a prize.
The woman with the basket inclined her head respectfully to all three of us, and we responded in like manner and moved on. Turning the corner, we came upon a large building that looked like barracks but I saw workers shuffling inside. We passed that one and ended at a building that was smaller than the others, but the workmanship of it was much finer.
We were instructed to wait at the door while he announced us. Once we were allowed in, we were shown seats at a long table. I folded my legs under me and sat, Ana took the place at my side, and our guide brought in his master. The man was crippled with age. His back was so curved it must have caused him terrible pain, but he made no complaint as he sat down across from us.
Refreshments were brought in and we ate quietly, Ana only remarking on the pleasant evening and me on the brightness of the moon. I regretted that last observation when the master of the home reached for his cup with a trembling hand. When he brought it to his lips, I saw his eyes. They were opaque and milky. I knew from attending long, diplomatic meetings that we would be expected to wait until the meal was finished before conducting business.
I was used to the slow, traditional pace of the past and I enjoyed it most of the time. But there was also something to be said for the rush of conducting business that happened in Kelsey’s time. As much as I felt out of place in the future, I found I did like how quickly things moved. Especially the things that I found tedious. My foot twitched impatiently while we waited for the man to finish his dinner. Ana put her hand on my knee under the table to still my juddering, and I slid my hand on top of hers, twining our fingers together.
She frowned but didn’t pull away. It felt like another victory. Though what, exactly, I was winning, I didn’t really know.
Finally, the meal was done and cleared away. The servant poured some tea for the master of the house and whispered in his ear that we needed to speak to him regarding the emperor. That we’d claimed the master of the house was in terrible danger due to his love for a woman. A tear trickled down the man’s cheek. He appeared to be either unaware of it or uncaring that we saw it.
“So you do know of what we speak,” I said.
“I do,” the man answered. “Can you help him?” he asked. “Help my son?”
“Your son?” I began.
“Your son is the one who risks his life,” Ana said as if already knowing the answer. “He is the one courting the emperor’s woman.”
The silk maker dashed a hand over his cheek and tried to straighten his frame. “I am an old man,” he answered. “My wife died long ago and we only have one son. He’s a good boy. Strong of body and tender of spirit, but a year ago I noticed a change in him. He would not tell me, but even I could hear the lightness in his step, the happiness in his voice. Once I felt like that. Long ago. I knew it for what it was.”
“Love,” Ana guessed as she sipped her tea.
“Yes. But he refused to say anything about it. Then, one day, I found the scarf.”
“Scarf?” I asked.
“Yes. The workmanship was exceedingly fine. I knew of only one seamstress who could do work such as that.”
“But how do you…?” I paused, not knowing how to ask the question.
“How do I see the workmanship with eyes that have gone dark? I don’t, young man. I use my hands. My fingers have held silk threads since before I could walk. It’s a simple thing for me to tell good work from bad.”
The man coughed dryly and reached for his mug. Finding it empty, he felt across the table until he found the pot and pulled it closer. His servant tried to help but the old man gave an adenoidal snort and the servant backed off. The old silk maker poured his own tea, slopping the scalding liquid over the rim of his mug and burning his fingers.
The man didn’t seem to notice the heat, and I wondered if he, too, had once pulled boiling cocoons from the pot. The man sucked the tea from his fingertips before setting the pitcher down hard enough to make a sloshing sound.
“Tell us, where is your son?” Ana pressed.
“She called him to her side this afternoon with an emergency order. He still hasn’t returned though it’s been hours.” The man wrung his napkin as he went on. “We couldn’t deny the emperor. I begged my son to consider the consequences of his actions, but he wouldn’t listen. The emperor plans to marry her. Everyone says so. At the very least, he will never let her leave. I love my son but if he pursues this girl, it will be the death of him. No one thwarts the emperor.”
Just then there was a tumult at the door, and the young man we’d just been talking about rushed into the room. His chest heaved as he sucked in deep breaths, and the look on his face was one of abject terror coupled with determination. He knelt by his wizened father. “You must tell me where the wizard is, Father!”
“Son! You’ve returned.” He clutched his boy’s hand to his chest but the young man asked him his question again. “Wizard?” the old man echoed.
“Yes, wizard, Father. The one you told me about every night. The one who lives in the mountains. I must find him!”
“What are you going on about?” the old man said weakly. He pushed against the table to stand and ended up nearly falling over as the table squealed in protest and shifted toward Ana and me. Both of us caught our mugs of tea before they spilled.