Sect Year 2 · ninth month · day 10 · the ford and the valley bridge below Silent Terrace
The river had come down by a hand’s width in the night, and its voice had changed with it. It no longer dragged. It ran, loud and brown and busy, over the stones of the crossing. Lin walked down the valley road to the ford with Pei at his shoulder and listened to the water fill the air from bank to bank. He thought that a river sounded very different when it had somewhere it wanted to go.
Kolm’s cart was stuck in the gravel where the road dipped to the water. The near wheel had gone down to the hub. The grey mule in the traces had its ears flat to its skull and was throwing its head at something the rest of them could not hear. Kolm stood knee-deep in the brown current, hauling at the bridle and shouting in a voice the river kept breaking into pieces.
“That’s Kolm,” said Pei. “Gan’s cousin. He was in the kitchen last night, complaining about salt.”
“Is the cart his?”
“The grain’s the fork’s. He’s taking it up the valley and bringing the salt back down. He says it’s the only road he’s got.”
