Sheiji awoke long after dawn the next morning. He scolded himself for sleeping and got groggily to his feet. He had no idea where he was. The mad dash through the jungle the night before had confused his sense of direction. If only he could find the Genji River he could make his own way to Jiwu.
Sheiji tightened the sash around his waist to ward off his hunger. He knew that one could live for several days without food; not very comfortably, but he could at least live. The main importance was to find water, principally the Genji River.
With a worried sigh, Sheiji began to walk. He tried to focus his attention away from his empty stomach and onto the beauty of the jungle around him. He spotted a bright red and yellow bird perched on a vine, singing a soft tune. Sheiji whistled back. It squawked at him before returning its song. Then Sheiji fell silent.
By noon, Sheiji could think of nothing but his hunger. At first he tried to satisfy it by thinking of all the good food he used to eat when he was at the palace. He found that that only made him hungrier, so he gave it up. Then he tried to tell himself that he had already eaten a large meal: steamed rice, lamb stew, spicy chicken and fried vegetables…that didn’t work either. Sheiji wondered if he had ever truly known hunger before.
All day he walked, and the next, and for two more days after that. Through dense forests where brush scratched at his legs and thorns pierced his feet through his sandals he trudged; across wide and sunny meadows where the sun beat down upon his black tunic and drenched him with sweat; wading through mud ponds that, though bringing temporary relief, left him wetter and stuck with leeches when he reached the other side. Flies buzzed around his arms and shoulders where the sewer drain had scraped them raw and bloody. But nothing was so unbearable as the hunger. Though the gnawing in his gut dulled after the first two days, it was ever present. At night he curled himself into a tight ball and only the exhaustion of the day’s march allowed him to fall into a sort of dreamless sleep.
Occasionally, Sheiji came across some edible-looking plant, but he dared not eat it, no matter how hungry he was. He wished Fa-Ying had taught him about plants, but this incident had not been in the foreseen plan.
On the fifth day, Sheiji came to a road. It was fairly large and congested with travelers as well as merchants. Sheiji was no longer concerned about anyone recognizing him. He no longer looked like a pampered king, but rather like a shabby peasant boy. He had always thought himself fairly thin, but now he was even more so. His leg muscles had grown stronger and his face, which had always been a lighter complexion, was tanned as dark as a common Imatsuran. He had thrown aside his useless and worn straw sandals several days ago—after first contemplating eating them—and his feet had begun to harden as he traveled over rough terrain.
Sheiji fell in with the crowds flooding into the gates of a distant city. He listened to the talk and learned that the city ahead was called Shijotsu. It was a large city with half a million people, nearly as large as Taiyunyi. Today was market day. In reality, every day was market day, but today was an especially large market day, which accounted for much of the traffic. As in Imatsuro, no carts or wagons were allowed into the city from seven to noon and from two to six, the two busiest times of the day.
“Have you heard the news?” a man asked Sheiji. He looked as if he had a great secret to tell.
“What news, sir?” Sheiji asked.
“The king’s dead,” the man replied unfeelingly. It was clear, though, that he enjoyed gossiping with people about this grave news. “The Prince Regent’s soldiers found his body in the jungle. They say he was strangled to death.”
Sheiji shuddered. Had he not run fast enough, the news might have been true. “Who did it?” Sheiji asked, playing along.
“Kidnappers,” the man replied. “That’s what His Regency said.”
“And what reason do you have for believing the Regent?” asked another voice beside Sheiji. His voice was low and emotionless.
The man shrugged and moved on.
“Don’t believe everything you hear, lad,” the second man said. “Not everyone can be trusted. Remember that.” Then he, too, was swallowed up in the crowd.
Sheiji entered the city and sought out the market. He had made up his mind to do something he never thought he would ever do under any circumstances. He was going to steal. No more than was necessary, of course, only a bit of rice or a peach to satisfy his hunger until he could find an honest way to get food.
The market was a new experience to Sheiji who had never seen one except from a balcony window or under the cover of darkness. He marveled at the color and variety! From silken scarves to valuable jewelry; from uncooked rice to overcooked rice for making rice cakes or rice balls; from melons to oranges to plump, juicy dates and figs; from earthen pots to brass kettles; the sights made Sheiji’s head spin and the smell of food reawakened the sharp pains in his stomach.
As sneakily as he could, Sheiji crept over to a food stand selling rice cakes and fruit. When he was close enough, he made a quick dash, grabbed a handful of whatever was in his reach and pulled back. The vendor shouted for the authorities and soon three soldiers were hot on his tail. Whereas Sheiji might have escaped them in the jungle, the city was a different matter. He had experience with dodging trees, vines and jungle undergrowth but the maze of streets and noise confused him and he knew he was as good as caught.