Chapter 120 — Seven-Mile Vale
劍問蒼天 · Page 3 of 5
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..."