As Li Wei cinches his pack back together, one of the xiangqi pieces falls out, a general. It rolls near Nuan, and she picks it up, studying the detail.

This is fine work, she says as she hands it back. I’ve seen far less detailed game sets fetching a nice price at the market. This kind of skill would be prized anywhere in Beiguo.

Li Wei made it, I say with pride.

It is nothing, he says, embarrassed. Fei is the real artist.

He busies himself with his pack, pretending it needs more rearranging than it does. Nuan watches him with a smile and then says to me, when he’s not looking: He’s very handsome. He’s your betrothed?

Now I’m the one who’s embarrassed. I feel heat flood my cheeks. No! We are just . . . friends.

There is a knowing look in Nuan’s eyes. If you want to save yourselves a lot of trouble, you could leave now. Forget trying to warn your village—the officials will stop you from getting back, you know. And they’ll certainly stop your whole village from leaving the mountain. But just the two of you? Well, there are other cities, other places in Beiguo. The boy clearly has skill, and you say you are trained as well. You can find work, real work. Go off together and leave this cursed place.

What she has suggested is so shocking, so unbelievable, that I’m momentarily frozen. Then new sounds make me jerk my head around. One thing I can say, at least, for this dirty collection of tents is that it is quieter than the rest of the township, since none of the residents use their voices. But now that quiet is interrupted as I recognize the sounds of many loud voices as well as a new noise I just learned: the sound of horses’ hooves on the road.

Someone is coming. Men and horses, I say.

We hurry to peek out the entrance of the tent, where I heard the noise. There, on the far side of where we entered the deaf settlement, riders on horseback are approaching. I am just barely tall enough to make them out and see that they wear red-and-yellow armor.

Those are the king’s men! Nuan says. They know you’re here. Someone probably reported you when you came to see me—they are my people, but they are desperate. You must go. Quickly. Over there, by that gray building? Go there, turn left, and then go straight until you reach the wall. Make another left and follow it until you see the opening.

Thank you. I bow to her again and start to leave, but she catches my sleeve.

You heard them coming? she asks. You can hear?

Only as of a few days ago, I say. I don’t know why or how.

The next sign she makes is incomprehensible to me, something involving wings.

What? I ask.

She makes it again, but I still can’t understand. The sign isn’t one from our language. Li Wei starts to reach for the stick we used to draw characters, but the sound of men and horses is getting closer. I shake my head and tell him, No time. We must go.

Nuan looks distraught, like she has more to tell us, but I can only shake my head at her and offer hurried thanks. Without a glance back at her, Li Wei and I dash off through the tents, heading toward the building Nuan indicated. The sound of men and horses is getting closer, but they aren’t able to see us as well as we can see them, giving us a head start. Her directions are easy enough to follow, and we soon find the gap she means. There’s a part in the wall where it joins to a watchtower. The two are made of different kinds of wood, and with time and weather, the seam has warped and split. A small space has been created, one that looks man-made, just big enough for one person to get through. It is an easy fit for me but takes some maneuvering for Li Wei, and he tears his shirt in the process.

Once we are both out, I hear shouts from above and look up. We may have escaped the guards in Nuan’s camp, but the ones on this watchtower have seen us. Our only saving grace is that it will take them time to get down and out. That buys us faint, precious time, and we cannot linger, especially when a few arrows come shooting down after us.

Without another backward glance, Li Wei and I run for our lives into the woods.

CHAPTER 13

ONCE, WHEN I WAS A CHILD, some older kids in our village got it into their heads to steal lunches from the younger children. It only lasted a few days before some adults got wind of the bullies and put an end to it. But one of those days, I bravely sneaked into the part of the woods where the thieves were lording over their hoard, snatched a bunch of the lunches back, and took off running. It was one of the most terrifying chases of my life. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. I didn’t have a chance to think about where I was going; I only knew I had to get away, to run as far and as fast as I could.

Outrunning the soldiers reminds me a lot of that day, with one exception: That childhood race was silent. This isn’t.

My hearing is both a blessing and a curse as Li Wei and I desperately run for our lives. On the one hand, I can tell how close our pursuers are, whether they are gaining ground. But sound also adds to the terror of the chase. Having an extra set of stimuli increases my panic, making an already stressful situation that much worse. It’s hard to focus and think coherently.

Li Wei stops after some time, breathing heavily and rubbing his ankle. I wonder if it still hurts from his fall, but I know he’ll deny it if I ask. Perhaps we’ve lost them, he says.

I shake my head, still able to hear men and horses. Scanning, I point in what I think is the opposite direction of our pursuers. There. We must go there.

To Li Wei, all this forested area looks the same, but he trusts me enough to go without question. We take off again, running until my muscles burn and I am forced to stop and take in big gulps of air. Peering around, I realize the only sounds I hear are those I’ve come to associate with any forest: rustling leaves and birds calling. I look to Li Wei, who is bent over, hands resting on his knees as he too catches his breath.

I don’t hear them, I say, watching him again nurse his ankle. I think we’ve lost them. Are you okay?

He waves me off. Fine, fine. I just need a minute.

We should hurry and begin climbing back, I tell him. We have to reach our people.

His smile fades, and he shakes his head. Fei, that’s impossible. We’ve lost them for now, but they’re almost certainly going to go scout around the cliffs, expecting us to climb back. We won’t be able to get far enough before they find us. They’ll shoot us down with arrows. You thought the climb down was slow and painstaking? Going up is doubly so.

I frown. What are you saying then? How are we going to help them?

We aren’t, he states. We can’t get back up, and even if we could . . . Fei, I know you think—you hope—the elders will spur our village into action and make them leave for some new future. But do you really believe that? Think logically, not with an artist’s imagination. Our people are fearful and know nothing of the world. They won’t leave. They won’t believe us.

Then what are we supposed to do? I demand, stunned at this turn.