Chapter 13
Halfway, Fa-Ying stopped and motioned for Sheiji to do the same. He ordered Sheiji to remove his silken tunic, sash and slippers. From beneath his clothes, Fa-Ying pulled a peasant’s tunic and presented it to Sheiji who promptly dressed. It was simple, yet far more durable than any of Sheiji’s fine, costly clothing. It was made of black wool with a crude white border on the edge that fell to his knees and on the wide sleeves that reached to his elbows. A dull red sash was tied tightly around his waist. Beneath the tunic, Sheiji wore baggy, white trousers that tied tightly just above the ankle. On his head he wore a gray turban.
“There, now you look like a proper peasant,” Fa-Ying said as he appraised him. “Just one more thing.” Fa-Ying pulled the coronation ring from the boy’s finger and dropped it into the rough pouch that swung from his sash. He then tied the pouch tightly shut so that the ring could not fall out. “No one must see this,” Fa-Ying sternly warned. Then they continued on their silent march to the gate.
“Don’t move!” a cry rang out across the courtyard. Fa-Ying pulled Sheiji behind a decorative bush along the garden wall. “Who’s out there?” the voice demanded. “The penalty for trespassing in the king’s garden is death!”
Footsteps drew nearer to Sheiji’s hiding place. He hardly dared to breathe for fear of giving himself away. Then the feet moved past. Sheiji heard the cry for midnight as he huddled motionless.
Finally, Fa-Ying deemed it safe to continue. “Inon?” Fa-Ying whispered hoarsely as they arrived at the gate.
“I am here,” came the reply.
“All is ready?”
“The guard has been drugged,” Inon replied, motioning to the sprawled figure of another soldier. Inon turned to Sheiji, “My king.” He bowed low and kissed the dirt at Sheiji’s feet.
“Inon, please,” Sheiji reproved. After a minute he said, “You are risking your life to help me, Inon. I thank you for all you have done.”
“I would do it many times, Vua,” Inon replied, still prostrate before Sheiji.
“Now, Vua, you must fly,” Fa-Ying handed him a pouch of water. Sheiji flung himself into Fa-Ying’s arms and hugged him. Fa-Ying was unsure how to respond, so he cleared his throat and nudged him toward the gate.
“Goodbye, Fa-Ying,” Sheiji wept.
“Do not forget your duty,” Fa-Ying called after him softly.
Sheiji put on a pair of straw sandals and slipped through the gate. He took one backward glance and saw Fa-Ying’s aged eyes resting on him lovingly. Inon knelt in the dirt, brushing a tear from his cheek. Then Sheiji was off, running as fast as his legs would carry him.
The road from Taiyunyi to Miyazu would be paved and, during the day, packed with travelers and merchants as well as a number of thieves. But at midnight, Sheiji was the only one about. It seemed to him as if he was the only living thing in the entire world.
Sheiji’s straw sandals made little sound against the road, only a quiet pat, pat, pat. To Sheiji, it seemed to be whispering over and over “run, run, run.” In an odd sort of way, it was very peaceful. The night was not too warm or too cold and the sky was clear, shining with pinpricks of light. The moon was half full, providing just enough light to guide Sheiji without giving him away.
Sheiji began panting from the run and he slowed to a jog. After a mile or so at that pace he picked up his speed and ran again. So it went, run, jog, run, jog until daylight touched the fringes of the sky. He had not yet reached the appointed town, so he ducked into the jungle where he could sleep the day away. Soon, Sheiji knew, the road would be streaming with people and perhaps soldiers, looking for him. The thought sent shivers of fear down his back, so he forced it from his mind.
When he was deep among the thick jungle foliage, he found a fallen tree and curled up against it. He took a long gulp of water and leaned back and examined the contents of his pouch. In it, much to his delight, he found several large rice balls and a sticky mass of dates. He ate half the dates, savoring each one, and then he ate some of his rice and saved the rest for evening. When he had finished those, he curled up against the tree trunk and fell immediately into a deep sleep.
When Sheiji awoke next, it was twilight. The air was still hot and humid from the sun’s rays, but it began to cool rapidly. Sheiji took another long drink from his water bag. He found that he was ravenous with hunger and ate the remaining dates and another ball of rice.
Then, Sheiji turned toward the road that led to Miyazu. He had no trouble finding the road and when he did, he found few travelers about at the late hour. As he watched on the roadside, still concealed in the dense brush, he noticed a boy, roughly his own age, walking backwards and munching on a handful of figs.
Sheiji couldn’t help but grin. The boy seemed as if he had not a care in the world. It did not appear that he had any desire to get anywhere or do anything, for he continued in his backwards way until he passed Sheiji and walked out of sight.
After this, Sheiji stepped out onto the road. He did not have far to go. He would make it to Miyazu well before dawn.
Sheiji was worried that he would catch up with the backwards boy and have to answer his questions, but he needn’t have worried. He never saw him all that night. Perhaps, Sheiji thought, he was a peasant boy who lived in the jungle nearby.
The night was quiet and he talked to himself from time to time. That had always been a habit of his when he was lonely and Fa-Ying had tried to break him of it many times.
Once during his walk, he thought he heard footsteps in the jungle beside him, but when he turned to look, he could see nothing. All the same, after that, his hand never strayed far from his dagger concealed in his tunic. He continued to throw nervous glances into the jungle on both sides of the road. He knew that robbers and cutthroats roamed at night and Sheiji had no desire to meet one.
Sheiji arrived at the city gates just before dawn. Peasants were already lined up half a mile down the road, waiting for the gates to open with the sun’s rising. They carried or carted fruits, vegetables and other wares to sell in Miyazu.
Sheiji pushed through the crowd until he was somewhat near the gate when the guards threw them open. The people began streaming in, but more soldiers pushed them back shouting, “One at a time. Show your face, and state your name and business,” cried one soldier. The first peasant stepped up, pronounced his name and said he was selling rice in Miyazu.
Sheiji tugged on the sleeve of a man standing beside him, “Do the guards always do this?”
The peasant shook his head, “The king has been kidnapped,” he replied. “They’re searching for him.”
Sheiji panicked. What would he say to the guard? Would he be recognized? He looked no different from any of the peasants, except for his eyes, which were rounder and lighter, thanks to his mother from Jiwu.
“Name!” the guard demanded. “You, peasant boy!”
Sheiji realized the guard was talking to him. “Sh—,” Sheiji froze; he had nearly said his true name. His mind raced. What was a common name? “Kitu,” he finally stuttered.
“And your business in Miyazu?” asked the guard.
“I’m…visiting,” Sheiji replied, hoping that the guard would accept his explanation.
“Oh, for the Festival of Kipchi, the goddess of knowledge?” asked the guard. “There’s to be a parade tomorrow morning at dawn to honor her. I mean to go myself, unless this stupid business of searching for a kidnapped king continues.”
Sheiji started to move on, but the guard stopped him. “Say, how would you like to trade clothes tomorrow and be paid two ched an hour while I watch the parade.” He smiled kindly. “We’re about the same size. How old are you?”
“Almost seventeen.” Instantly Sheiji regretted his words, why had he told the truth to this soldier?
“I am eighteen; we could pass for one another, how about it?” the guard asked. He truly seemed serious. “Two ched an hour is a lot of money. I would be back to trade with you before we change the guard. That’s eig
ht ched.”
Sheiji shook his head, “My family…they would not understand,” he argued.
“Why not? Just tell them you’re going out with some friends,” the guard said.
Sheiji shook his head again. A shout came from behind him in the crowd. Everyone wanted to know what was holding up the line. With a sigh, the guard waved Sheiji on. Sheiji too, sighed, but his was a sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was find the Inn of the Axe and the man who ran it, the Woodcutter.