Chapter 120 — Seven-Mile Vale

Xiaobai smiled faintly and cut him off. "Just so. Three hundred years ago, what I saw here was the Miao tribe's great sorcerer working a soul-returning rite, calling back the one soul and three spirits of a Miao man who had been seized by a mountain sprite, and bringing him back to life."

The Miao's great sorcerer...

Again the corner of Ming Li's mouth twitched. If the sorcerer at an altar held high honor among the tribes of the southern frontier, then the great sorcerer—strongest in power among sorcerers, highest in station, who each time himself spoke the will of the gods—was in the eyes of ordinary folk simply a god.

Should anyone dare offend the great sorcerer, Ming Li did not doubt for an instant that every Miao on this land before him—nay, every Miao in all the southern frontier—would come charging forth to fight him to the death.

Xiaobai watched Ming Li with interest and smiled. "Well then, what do we do now?"

Ming Li glanced at her. The early morning sun fell upon her face as though refracted there, carrying a faint, gentle warmth.

He said not a word, turned, and walked slowly toward the altar on the mountainside.

Xiaobai smiled and followed.

This place was called Seven-Mile Vale, and the name was no idle one, for its span was considerable; it was reckoned the largest Miao settlement in all the southern marches, and as they went deeper the Miao they saw grew ever more numerous.

From the broad road they walked, lesser paths branched off continually to either side, like a great tree putting forth limbs and leaves.

To Ming Li and his companion, looking ahead, the road beneath their feet ran straight off in the direction of that distant altar, which saved them the trouble of asking the way.

Only, as they pressed deeper, more and more Miao took note of the two of them, and whispers rose and fell on every side. After perhaps the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, they came to the foot of the great mountain upon which the altar stood.

Then they halted—not from hesitation, but because the Miao soldiers stationed at the foot of the slope barred their way.

Ming Li felt a touch of irritation, though what he saw before him was hardly unexpected. After all, this being the Miao's supreme and sacred altar, it would have been strange indeed had it not been closely guarded.

The Miao soldiers guarding the foot of the mountain were in truth not few. At a glance there were at least a dozen able-bodied men, standing on watch along the road up the slope, some near and some far.

The two who now blocked their way stood foremost, dressed in the ordinary garb of the Miao, save that each wore over his breast an added plate of armor woven from tough rattan, and each held a long-hafted spear. This, it seemed, was what set the Miao warrior apart from the common Miao.

The two Miao looked Ming Li and Xiaobai up and down several times, and thereafter their gaze lingered for a while, most of it, upon Xiaobai's lovely face. Then one said loudly, "Jili jili hululu, guala guala luluhu..."

Ming Li turned to look at Xiaobai. She shrugged. "Don't ask me. After being shut away so long, how would I still remember such native talk?"

Ming Li was silent. He turned back, considered a moment, and said, "We have urgent business and wish to have audience with your great sorcerer." Since he had a favor to ask, it was rare indeed for him to speak with a measure of courtesy.

But plainly this Miao settlement was nothing like so enlightened as the innkeeper and his staff at Tianshui Stockade, who could command the speech of the Central Plains. Hearing Ming Li speak, the two Miao only knitted their brows the tighter, exchanged a glance, and then even raised the long-hafted spears in their hands, their faces stern, shouting loudly, "Huhu lulu gualala, lulu huhu jilili..."

Ming Li was struck dumb, at a loss for a moment what to do. In truth, for Bilu's sake he had these ten years been running east and west, seeking the whereabouts of the Black Sorcerer Tribe everywhere. Now that at long last he had some thread of a clue, to be stopped by these Miao warriors—his heart was restless beyond measure, and he truly wished to simply bowl these men over, charge into the altar, and find that great sorcerer, that he might heal Bilu.

Yet he was no longer the callow youth he had once been, ignorant of the ways of the world. He knew that at this moment he must on no account act rashly, for should matters come to a head, it would likely defeat his purpose. After a moment's hesitation, then, since words failed him, he pointed with his hand toward the altar halfway up the mountainside and said in a gentle voice, "We wish to go up to your altar and have audience with the great sorcerer."

Whether the Miao understood his words was unknown, but the gesture of pointing at the altar on the mountainside instantly roused the fury of every Miao around them, including the warriors standing farther off and the Miao who had followed them to gape. All at once they began shouting curses, and the Miao warriors came surging up with a great clamor, surrounding the two of them.

Ming Li was startled. Xiaobai said in a low voice at his side, "Oh no. You may have committed some great taboo of the Miao."

Ming Li asked in wonder, "What did I do?"

Xiaobai looked at the angry crowd around them and said quietly, "In Miao eyes the altar is a sacred place that may not be violated. Even in ordinary speech it is not lightly mentioned; to point at it with the finger is a grave disrespect—among the Miao, the greatest of insults."

Ming Li glared at her and said crossly, "A matter of such importance, and you never thought to tell me sooner?"

Xiaobai gave a light laugh, a faint tenderness seeming to show through. "You should consider," she said softly, "I was shut away three hundred years. How would I remember so much..."

Ming Li was struck dumb again, and for a moment his head ached beyond measure.

The Miao around them, seeing the two surrounded, yet showed no sign of fear; on the contrary, they stood there calm and at ease, conversing in low voices. The man seemed somewhat anxious, but the woman did not regard the Miao about her in the least, smiling sweetly and casting sparkling glances all around.

Many Miao women stood about, and seeing Xiaobai's elegant beauty there in the midst of the crowd, each secretly envied her. But when they saw the greater number of Miao men staring at Xiaobai with eyes aglow, the whole gathering was stirred, and in a trice a jabber of voices rose on every side, as though this shameless pair had insulted the sacred altar and deserved no pardon, but rather a thousand cuts and a lingering death by slicing.

Among them a few young men could not hold their tongues and argued a word or two: it was the man who had insulted the altar, and the woman was hardly at fault; better to kill the man and keep the woman—she would make a fine wife and all...

Before they had finished speaking, these young men were swallowed up in the crowd of Miao women—by their mothers, elder sisters, younger sisters, aunts, third cousins, sixth cousins, and even Miao women they had never known—some kicking with their feet, some seizing hair, some clawing ears, some pounding eyes, some butting with shoulders, in short, a whole heaven of hands and feet descending at once, and a bedlam of wails rising forthwith. A moment later came a series of splashes, one after another, as these men, black and blue and swollen of face, were flung into the stream, throwing up great gouts of spray.

The fierceness of Miao women—one glimpse suffices.

The Miao soldiers seemed not to have expected such fury from these Miao women, who were angrier even than the warriors, who must be of the truest faith in the gods to be deemed worthy of guarding the altar—so deep was their loathing for these outsiders who had insulted it, that the slightest word in their defense earned a beating with staves.