In the dusty marketplace of Tok-Kala a small crowd had gathered to marvel at what the foreigner in black had brought in from a camp on the eastern branch of the Kushan Road; the afternoon sun had dropped low enough in the west to cast long, purple shadows from brilliant yellow skies, making the huge, stone bone appear more impressive than it was, and it was remarkable on its own merits. The marketplace was surrounded by two- and three-story buildings of clay bricks, most without decoration of any kind, but with two marked by ominous swaths of dark-reddish brown stains and ornamented with racks of skulls, now shining in the spectacular colors of early sunset.
"How did you find it?" asked a Byzantine merchant in a tattered paragaudion of dark-blue, nubby Antioch silk. He spoke the dialect of Silk Road merchants in the West-an amalgam of Persian, Byzantine Greek, and the local vernacular.
"There was a landslide, coming into Ferghana, that brought down a long section of the hillside, and the bone was exposed; there were bits of what I suspect were other bones, but I could not wrest them from the earth; they were all of great size," said Ragoczy Franciscus in excellent Byzantine Greek; the merchant gave a hearty sigh of relief as he heard his native tongue, and he nodded his thanks to Ragoczy Franciscus. "I also found two teeth," he added, taking the sharp, triangular objects from the sleeve of his sen-gai; they were nearly as long as the palm of his small, elegant hand. He cast his mind back to the early morning three days since when he and Rojeh had come upon the swath of fallen rocks that blocked the road. The work of clearing the slide away had taken most of the morning and half the afternoon, and in the process they had come upon the great stone bone, which, when stood on end, came up to the middle of Ragoczy Franciscus' chest. He had struggled to load it onto one of the camels, after adding the camel's chests and sacks and barrels to the other animals' pack saddles; at the time it had seemed a very important thing to take with them. "Whatever this being is, it is ancient."
"Ancient? I should say so! What manner of creature has such teeth, if they are truly teeth?" the merchant exclaimed. "They could be arrowheads, or spear-points, from an ancient battle."
"Both with no means to fasten them to a shaft?" Ragoczy Franciscus inquired gently. "No, I must suppose they are teeth, but I cannot imagine what creature has such teeth."
"A giant, whatever it was," said the Byzantine merchant.
"I think we must assume that," said Ragoczy Franciscus.
"How could such a creature manage to-?" The Byzantine merchant looked about. "They say strange beasts have come down from the northern forests."
"It could be one," said Ragoczy Franciscus quietly, and prepared to join Rojeh at the inn they had chosen. "But I have heard nothing of anything like this, and I would expect news to travel quickly about such a beast."
"Very true; very true. I would like to discuss it with you, later, if I may?" He slapped his chest. "I am Vermakrides, from Kaffa. I may still do some trading before I return home." He grinned, his openness a deliberate ploy to encourage Ragoczy Franciscus to volunteer as much about himself and what goods he might have. "That bone of yours interests me."
Ragoczy Franciscus ignored the last. "Then I wish you a successful end of your journey."
Vermakrides nodded. "Yes, it is almost done, and never have I been more glad to see the end of travel ahead. Have you far to go?"
"I, too, am returning to my native earth," said Ragoczy Franciscus with a slight, formal reverence, aware he was being prodded for information.
"And where might that be?" Vermakrides. asked, annoyed that he had to press for information.
"In the Carpathians," said Ragoczy Franciscus in a formidably polite tone that discouraged more inquiry. "Very high in the eastern crook."
"Have you been gone long?" Vermakrides realized he was pushing his luck to ask, but the habits of his trading were too strong to be broken.
"More than a decade," said Ragoczy Franciscus; he did not mention that his absence from his homeland would be correctly calculated in multiple decades-nine of them since his last visit there.
"A considerable time," said Vermakrides, prepared to embark on more conversation.
But Ragoczy Franciscus cut him short. "If you will excuse me?" He sketched a reverence to Vermakrides and went to where Rojeh was standing, next to the enormous bone. "Have you found a place for the night?"
"The inn at the corner of the market? The one with the blue shutters? It is called the Wayfarers' Refuge. The innkeeper has taken our animals into his barns and is preparing a room even now." He spoke in the language of Egypt, fairly certain that only Ragoczy Franciscus would understand him.
"For a price," said Ragoczy Franciscus drily in a slightly older version of the same tongue.
"Naturally for a price, luckily one that can be paid in silver," said Rojeh; he paused a moment and finally broached a matter that had been niggling at him. "I hope the bar of silver you gave Ourisi will be enough to keep her safe."
"So do I."
"Will she survive?" Rojeh persisted.
"Will any of us? At least with silver and her freedom, she has a chance, unlike she would have, had she remained with Kasha. There was nothing more I could do: she was too ill to travel." He reached down and touched the stone bone and said in Persian, "Hire some of the marketplace men to help you move this to the stable at the inn. Speaking of silver, give them a silver coin each-that should help to encourage them."
"I will," Rojeh said loudly enough to be overheard. "One silver coin each."
Ragoczy Franciscus began to walk toward the inn, but stopped and turned back to Vermakrides, who was exchanging jokes with a group of camel-drovers from the south. "Why are you interested in the bone?"
"It is a wonder. I would like to display it," said Vermakrides promptly. "Many would pay to see it, I think."
"Pay to see it," Ragoczy Franciscus echoed. "What a notion." He paused. "I will consider it."
"Well and good; I will come to your inn after supper, to make you an offer; you are at the Wayfarers' Refuge, are you not?" said Vermakrides, and turned back to the camel-drovers.
"Yes; come there when you like," said Ragoczy Franciscus, and continued on his way.
The interior of the Wayfarers' Refuge smelled of smoke and wet leather, with a hint of slightly rancid cooking oil. The innkeeper-a man who had once been rotund but was now so thin that his flesh hung on him like an inner garment and whose face was so sunken that he resembled the Chinese fighting dogs-reverenced Ragoczy Franciscus, indicating the flight of stairs behind him. "Be welcome, Man from the West. Your servant has already prepared your quarters."
"That is very good of you," said Ragoczy Franciscus.
The innkeeper set a scale on the counter and waited. "Do you want feed for your animals, Man from the West?"
Ragoczy Franciscus considered for a moment, then said, "Yes." He saw the greed in the innkeeper's eyes and asked, "Has my traveling companion paid for our accommodations yet?"
"He has given me the initial payment for the rooms. Anything else must be paid when requested." The innkeeper looked narrowly at Ragoczy Franciscus. "You have come from far to the east, your man told me: they say that the clans from the east are coming in greater numbers now. What have you seen?"
"Why do you ask?" Ragoczy Franciscus inquired.
"Travelers who stop here ask for advice; I want to have good information to provide them, for their sake. Traders pay well for such news."
"Of course. They pay."
"You do not give your goods away, foreigner," said the innkeeper brusquely. "News is as valuable as goods in this town, and more so now, the last year and a half being so hard."
"I will tell you as much as I can, for the protection of other travelers." Thinking back to the Desert Cats, Ragoczy Franciscus answered carefully, "I would reckon that if the clans are on the move, it is because their own regions can no longer support them."
"But where will they go? There is nothing for them here, and Ferghana is already overrun by clans looking for horses to steal."
"The scrub is dying, giving way to moving sands," said Ragoczy Franciscus, reporting what he had learned from Baru Ksoka as well as what he had seen. "They cannot survive on sand."
"Nor can anyone," said the innkeeper. He pointed to the window. "The wastes between the seas are doing much the same thing, the grass and scrub drying up and giving way to shifting sands. At least we have the Amu Darya to give us water, or we might have to abandon our homes, too. We are fortunate to have the river." He glowered, his head down. "As it is, many of us have starved already."
"It is much the same everywhere we have been," said Ragoczy Franciscus. "Starvation and its companions-illness and desperation."
"We gave foals and kids to the gods, and when they did not suffice, we gave sons and daughters. It has not been enough." The innkeeper looked at Ragoczy Franciscus. "What have you lost, foreigner?"
"All my family," said Ragoczy Franciscus, accurately but misleadingly.
"I have only one wife and two children left. I could not bear to part with any of them," said the innkeeper in a sudden burst of overwrought emotion. "Those coming from the West say that there the sun remains weak and the cold is everywhere."
Ragoczy Franciscus took money from the string of cash in his sleeve. "Here are coins enough for the food, the feed, and something extra so you may make other offerings to the gods."
The innkeeper took the cash and did his best to smile. "This is most generous."
"May it bring you what you seek," said Ragoczy Franciscus, ducking his head before going off toward the stairs. "Which rooms are assigned to my companion and me?"
"The two at the end of the north arm."
"Thank you," said Ragoczy Franciscus as he began to climb. "Oh," he said, stopping on the third riser, "there is a Byzantine merchant coming later in the evening to talk with me."
"It will cost you to receive him," said the innkeeper automatically.
"Of course it will," said Ragoczy Franciscus, resuming his climb to the unusually wide corridor that led to the north arm of the building.
Some little time later, one of the slaves came up to Ragoczy Franciscus's room to announce, "There is a Byzantine merchant waiting in the visitors' room."
Ragoczy Franciscus tapped on Rojeh's door and said he would return shortly. "He and I may strike a bargain."
"For the bone," Rojeh said incredulously.
Vermakrides. was waiting in the visitors' room, seated on a pile of cushions near the newly lit fire. He had a cup of wine in his hand, and he nearly spilled its contents when Ragoczy Franciscus came through the door. "May the Saints be praised!" he exclaimed.
Ragoczy Franciscus reverenced Vermakrides. "You said you wanted to discuss the bone I brought to-"
"To the point. Yes. Yes, I do," Vermakrides said impulsively. "I very much want to discuss the bone. You say you came upon it in a landslide?"
"I did," said Ragoczy Franciscus.
"You said this was in Ferghana?" Vermakrides persisted.
"Yes. On the road from Kokand and Tashkent." He regarded Vermakrides for a short while. "Do you plan to look for the place?"
"It had occurred to me," the Byzantine admitted.
"I will hope you have good fortune, if you try," Ragoczy Franciscus said cordially. "There was a second landslide shortly after my traveling companion and I removed the bone, and all that had been uncovered by the first was buried again by the second."
"If what you say is true-" Vermakrides began, and stopped short as he glanced at Ragoczy Franciscus.
"Why should I speak false? If I wished to conceal the place I found the bone, there are many easier ways to dissemble. I could have claimed to have found it anywhere from here to China, on another branch of the Silk Road." His voice remained genial, but there was something in his eyes that held the attention of the merchant.
"It could be that your account is fanciful," he said cautiously.
"It could be," seconded Ragoczy Franciscus, a slight emphasis on could, "but as it happens, I am telling the truth. You will have to take my Word for it."
"If I must, I will," said Vermakrides. "I will also accept that I might not be able to find it."
Ragoczy Franciscus shrugged. "You may find other bones, if you decide to look for them."
Vermakrides tapped his fingers on the rim of his wine cup, and then looked up, startled. "I should have offered as soon as you came in: let me buy you a cup of wine."
"Thank you; it is a most gracious offer, but I do not drink wine," said Ragoczy Franciscus.
There was a brief silence between them, then Vermakrides coughed and said, "About the bone? Do you have a price in mind?"
"I do," said Ragoczy Franciscus.
Vermakrides blinked. "What might it be?"
"Four Ferghana horses of my choosing," said Ragoczy Franciscus, "and one full measure of gold."
"That is a substantial amount," said Vermakrides.
"So it is," said Ragoczy Franciscus. "The bone is unique."
Vermakrides pulled at his lower lip, twisting his beard as he did. "Three horses and a three-quarter measure of gold."
This was a larger counteroffer than Ragoczy Franciscus had been expecting; he covered his surprise by saying, "Four horses and a three-quarter measure of gold."
Fiddling with his beard, Vermakrides set his cup aside and took a short time to ponder. "That is a very tempting proposition," he admitted, and gulped down the last of his wine while Ragoczy Franciscus waited calmly for the Byzantine merchant to decide.
Vermakrides gave him a careful look. "I will not offer a higher price than the one we have discussed."
"Let me see the horses before I decide." Ragoczy Franciscus gestured toward the door. "We will fix the matter shortly."
Rising, Vermakrides smiled. "I can see you are a careful man," he approved, and led the way out of the inn to the horse-market to conclude their transaction.
The three horses Ragoczy Franciscus chose were young, strengthy animals: a copper-dun mare, a black-and-white-spotted stallion that Rojeh favored, and a splendid blue roan mare that Ragoczy Franciscus had selected as his own. The ponies-now each carrying lighter loads as their burdens were spread over more backs and some of the crates and barrels were growing lighter as the food and water they contained was depleted-were able to pick up their pace. They made rapid progress along the Kushan Road toward the Volga Delta at the north side of the Caspian Sea.
"I estimate our speed at nineteen thousand paces yesterday and this morning," said Rojeh as they broke camp in midafternoon.
Ragoczy Franciscus was gathering up their bedding and setting it in place on the pack saddles, using heavy hempen nets to hold all in place, when he allowed himself the luxury of a single chuckle. "What a strange trophy to want."
Rojeh realized Ragoczy Franciscus meant the Byzantine merchant. "What sort of an exhibit do you think he will make of it?"
Ragoczy Franciscus considered his answer. "I have no idea."
"Didn't he say he wanted to display it and charge for people to see it?" Rojeh could sense Ragoczy Franciscus' disinterest. "When he took it, he said he would show it as a giant's bone, or a dragon's."
"Yes, he did. An odd notion."
"That Byzantine merchant may succeed in his plan, if he can bring the bone to Trebizond without mishap. Who knows what people may make of it if he actually displays it?" With a quick, tight smile, Rojeh went to work on the riding horses. "You took sustenance from the copper-dun, did you?"
"Yes. Two nights from now it will be a pony I drink from, and then, two nights later, my blue roan, and after that, the cinder-brown pony, then the black-and-white. I have adhered to that routine since we left Tok-Kala." He patted his mare's neck. "It is sufficient to keep me alive, but it puts no flesh on my bones."
"So I see," said Rojeh, reaching into their grooming box and handing a stiff-bristled brush to Ragoczy Franciscus.
"Just as well, being a bit gaunt just now. A man with abundant flesh in these times would become the object of envy and suspicion." He looked at Rojeh, his face unreadable.
Rojeh, nonplussed, began to groom the copper-dun, his austere features showing little of his thoughts. Finally, as he started brushing their ponies, he remarked, "Have you wondered at all about what has happened in Yang-Chau since we left? You haven't said much about it."
"There is little to say. With such harsh weather along the Silk Road, if the ports of China and India were not badly compromised, they would be bringing foodstuffs and other necessities with them, for there would be handsome profits to be made, if such things were available." He squinted up at the sky. "Though it shines, the sun is still veiled-I can feel its lack of power as I have since shortly after we crossed the Crane River. It may be that wherever the sun shines, its weakness has taken a toll." He got his saddle.
"But Yang-Chau is very far away," said Rojeh, pulling out saddle pads for their riding horses, and handing one to Ragoczy Franciscus.
"And we have come a great distance without finding the sun any stronger, and there is evidence everywhere that the last year has been unusually cold and stormy everywhere, judging from what we have heard. There are no accounts of good harvests or flourishing land," said Ragoczy Franciscus as he finished securing the girths.
Rojeh began to saddle his black-and-white stallion, remarking as he did, "I hope the mares will not come into season anytime soon."
"And I. But they may not, since they have been on short rations for so long," said Ragoczy Franciscus. "Hunger delays such things."
"Truly," said Rojeh as he tightened the girths on his Jou'an-Jou'an saddle. "We will have to replace the foot-loop straps soon. They are showing too much wear."
"I agree," said Ragoczy Franciscus as he took his bridle from the tack trunk. He slipped the headstall over the mare's ears and reached for the throat-latch to buckle it. "I may have to fashion new foot-loops; the iron of these is beginning to rust. When we reach Sarai, perhaps I can arrange something. There must be at least one smithy there where I may work." He put his foot into the iron foot-loop and stepped up into his saddle.
It was sixteen days later that they saw the many mouths of the Volga glistening ahead, and the expanse of the Caspian Sea beyond, flat and glossy as a shield of polished brass. A few small ships moved upon it, but there was a lack of activity that boded ill for the people of the stone-walled town of Sarai, which stood on the last rocky spit of land in the delta; it rose steeply from the sea's edge to a crag. A single, steep road led up to the gate, midway up the slope, an approach that discouraged attackers. Beyond the high stone walls, the town was surrounded by marsh, the waterways marked with reeds and occasional low docks where boats were tied. There was a quantity of islands created by the river, which just now were filled with tents of all sorts, from small cloth tents of the wandering beggars to the skin-covered tents of the clans and peoples from as far away as the Atlai Mountains and the expanses of the Gobi Desert. A maze of fords and low bridges connected the islands to the approach to the town. A faint odor of decay hung over the marshes, and a low, clinging mist was just beginning to rise from the profusion of waterways, sinister in the glistening midday light. There was very little activity in the various encampments, which added a second apprehension to the appearance of the delta islands.
"Look. Some of those tents are Jou'an-Jou'an; goat-hide over a wooden frame with horses painted on them, and horse-tail standards," Rojeh remarked as he came up to Ragoczy Franciscus, who, this day, was on the copper-dun mare. Both men wore heavy silken Byzantine paragaudions-procured from Vermakrides-over thick, Persian leggings of wool, and tooled-and-heeled Scythian-style boots. The day was warm enough that neither man had bothered to don a cloak or a sen-gai.
"So they are," said Ragoczy Franciscus. "But that might not be significant."
"I didn't mean that the Desert Cats are here," said Rojeh quickly.
"They may be," Ragoczy Franciscus allowed. "And perhaps, if we are taken into the town, I will come and see which clans are among those gathered on the islands. If we must pass on tomorrow, then-" He shook his head once.
By midafternoon they had climbed the road to reach the gates of Sarai and had been admitted, but with immediate restriction, imposed upon them by a single guard who confronted them immediately inside the gates. "You must remain over there, you and your animals," the officer who let them in ordered, pointing to a large pen to the side of the gate. He spoke an outlandish tongue that was the regional language with an admixture of Silk Road Greek and Persian. His weapon was a long, menacing spear with a hook where the point should be, in contrast to the guard, who carried a Persian shimtare and a mace.
"We will; but why?" Ragoczy Franciscus asked in Byzantine Greek.
"Our Master of Foreigners must speak with you," said the officer, annoyed at having to answer. "Emrach Sarai'af has been notified of your coming. He will decide if you may be admitted, and how long you may stay, if you are."
"I understand and accept these terms," said Ragoczy Franciscus, his manner distantly polite.
The officer coughed. "From where do you come?" He was spared more inquiry as a large, bearded man in Byzantine clothing approached in a chariot of western design. He hailed the officer as his slave halted the pair of horses drawing the vehicle. Seen at this nearer vantage, his height was impressive and there was a deep scar running from his forehead, through his eyebrow, to his cheek, disappearing into his beard; his nose was aquiline and his mouth was wide. He stepped down from the chariot and came toward the officer. "What is it you want? The Volgamen haven't arrived yet, have they?" His Byzantine Greek was reasonably good, but his accent would have been laughable in Constantinople.
"No, not the Volgamen," said the officer. "This merchant and a traveling companion have come."
Ermach Sarai'af stalked up to Ragoczy Franciscus, making the most of his size, his hands on his hips to make his shoulders look bigger. Yet loom as he would, his usual intimidation had no effect on the foreigner in the black paragaudion. Flustered, he walked around Ragoczy Franciscus, glaring at him. "I am the Master of Foreigners. All strangers here are here on my sufferance."
Ragoczy Franciscus remained unperturbed by this scrutiny. "I am Ragoczy Franciscus; he is Rojeh. My companion and I have come from China. We are returning to my home in the Carpathian Mountains." His demeanor was deferential but cool; he reverenced Ermach Sarai'af. "My companion and I seek permission to stay here for a month, if we may, to recuperate from the rigors of our travels."
"How much can you pay?" The question came abruptly and without finesse. "We cannot have anyone here who cannot pay," said Ermach Sarai'af.
"I have some gold, and some silver," said Ragoczy Franciscus. "What amount would do?"
"If you have a tent, the amount would be less; you could claim a plot at the rear of the town. If you take a house in the Foreigners' Quarter, the amount would be greater, and separate from any arrangement you may make with the owner of the house." Ermach Sarai'af folded his big arms and made another attempt to hector Ragoczy Franciscus. "You must pay for the right to be inside these walls for the night."
Ragoczy Franciscus gave a single nod. "I am willing to pay the amount if I have enough gold and silver with me."
Perplexed, Ermach Sarai'af paced around Ragoczy Franciscus one more time, then declared, "I will have to receive two Byzantine bars of gold if you, your companion, and your animals are to remain here for-How long do you plan to remain here, again?"
"A month," said Ragoczy Franciscus. "Perhaps more."
"The two bars of gold will be paid for a month. If you stay longer, I will have the same again from you, whether you remain here a month or a day." Ermach Sarai'af stopped directly in front of Ragoczy Franciscus, challenging him.
"It is a large amount," said Ragoczy Franciscus.
"If you cannot meet it, then-"
"It is a large sum," said Ragoczy Franciscus affably, waited a moment, then added, "And if you would direct me and my companion to an inn where we may spend a few days while choosing a house in the Foreigners' Quarter, I would be most grateful."
Emrach Sarai'af, who had been expecting a long wrangle over the amount he was charging the foreigners, snorted. "You must have had a very profitable journey, to be so accommodating." After a brooding silence, Emrach Sarai'af said, "The Birch House will have rooms for you, and paddocks and stalls for your animals."
"Excellent," said Ragoczy Franciscus as if he were actually delighted. "If you will tell us how this inn is to be found, we will go there at once and expect you shortly before sunset." He signaled to Rojeh. "The Birch House. We will go there at once."
"I will be along before sundown to collect your money," Emrach Sarai'af warned before turning on his heel and striding back to his waiting chariot. "If you do not pay the amount due, the guards will escort you out of the gates, and you will not be allowed to return, not for double the price."
"Yes; I understand," said Ragoczy Franciscus as he swung around to face Rojeh. "Are we ready?"
"If you are, so are we all," said Rojeh, mounting his stallion again and preparing to lead the other animals.
"Excellent," Ragoczy Franciscus repeated. "I will have money waiting for you shortly," he added to Emrach Sarai'af as he mounted his blue roan.
Text of a letter from Tsa Tsa-Si, professor of calendars and geography at the University of Yang-Chau to his brother Tsa Wa-Tso at Chang'an, carried by courier and delivered ten months after being written and two months after Tsa Tsa-Si's death.
The most devoted greetings, Elder Brother, the most worthy Tsa Wa-Tso, now serving the Wen Emperor at Chang'an in the capacity of Translator of Documents to the August Personage, on this the ninth day of the Fortnight of the Fruitful Fields, from your faithful younger brother, Tsa Tsa-Si, from the most pitiful city of Yang-Chau.
Would that I could tell you, Elder Brother, that the many privations and difficulties of the Year of Yellow Snow have ended, but, alas, such is not the case. We continue to struggle under a sun that has become less than an oil-lamp in the heavens, and because of the lack of such virtue as the sun is wont to provide, trade and life suffer. The University is all but deserted. I have only four pupils left, and were it not for the generosity of the Worthy Foreigner Zangi-Ragozh, and the compassion of Professor Min Cho-Zhi, who supervises his personal affairs, I would be a beggar on the street, or worse. I now have thirty-one years, but I feel as if I had double that. I have consulted a physician, who has given me herbs to treat these conditions, which has provided some relief, but I am far from being what I would expect of myself, and I have had to delegate some of my duties to others, notably Councillor Ko She-Hsieh, who has taken over dealing with the accounts of the enterprises of the absent Worthy Foreigner and will do so until I am sufficiently recovered to resume the work for myself. I have been unable to assist Professor Min as I would like, for he has recently withdrawn to a small house at the rear of the compound and has devoted himself to reading the classic teachings of Mo-Tzu, in the hope that his philosophy will ease passage through these difficult days.
I have not heard anything from Zangi-Ragozh and so cannot provide any of the information you requested. I have learned-as you must have as well-that the men traveling with him, Yao, Gien, and Jong, have been enrolled in the army at Lo-Yang, and that Zangi-Ragozh and his manservant, Ro-shei, went on up the Huang Ho, but where they went is still a mystery. No word has come from him, and if any has been sent, it has not yet reached its destination-not an uncommon fate of messages at present. It is all due to the lessening of the sun's power, for the Powers of Water are not kept in check, as seen in the tremendous amount of rain we have had since the great clap of thunder of thirty-nine fortnights ago. We saw great waves soon after that did great damage and caused many deaths, and darkness engulfed the sun shortly after they struck. Since then the balance of yin and yang has been disturbed, and evidence of this is everywhere evident.
That does not mean that I have abandoned my duties. I am continuing to accomplish as much as I might, and I am still supported by Zangi-Ragozh's household, as he stipulated in his instructions to Min when he left. No matter what becomes of Min, I have an obligation and I will not disgrace our name by failing to execute every particular of my assigned tasks to the limit of my capacity. I wish I could say that the rest of Zangi-Ragozh's household has displayed equal probity, but that is not the case. Meng, his cook, was caught stealing from the larder and selling the food he took at vastly inflated prices. Jho took him before the Magistrate, who ordered Meng's hands be struck off Meng's injuries were cauterized and treated, but the stumps became infected, and his arms blackened and he died. Also, some of the furniture of the house has been stolen-by whom we cannot determine-and the losses reported, but so far no one has been apprehended with the items in his possession. I realize that unless some object of very high value is taken, we will have to accept the losses and account for them as best we can if Zangi-Ragozh should ever return.
Thank you, Elder Brother, for informing me of our nephew's death and the illness of our sister. I know that since her husband died, three years since, she has been much put-upon and has struggled with imperfect health. I have burned incense for the boy's soul, and I have listed his name among the tablets in my Ancestor Shrine. I realize that it is an imposition upon you to take our sister into your household, particularly since your wife has said she is not in favor of having our sister with you, which is not an unexpected response, for no woman likes to give over her position to a sister or mother. Perhaps our youngest brother, Tsa Tsi-La, would be willing to have our sister with him, unless he has been posted to some barbarian station where no one bathes and the winters are harder than cold iron. I could contribute to her maintenance, not a great deal, but an amount that could ease the burden on Tsa Tsi-La; if you were willing to do the same, it may render her life more endurable.
They are saying that when the weather improves, the Emperor at Chang'an is going to take to the field with his Army and bring the Middle Kingdom back to unity. If this is truly the case, I hope he will reconsider and wait a year, for no part of the Middle Kingdom has brought in a good harvest, so the new-planted crops are especially vulnerable. Much ground lies fallow, producing only occasional weeds, and even they are stunted and burned. The yellow rain has blighted many farms. The fields are not the only sufferers: what livestock is left is thin and pathetic, unsuitable to labor or the pot. Because of all the rain, everything is sodden, and cloth decays while it is worn. For the peasants, life is much more demanding than before the thunderclap. There has been Swine Fever and Gray Cough among them, and some horses have succumbed to Black Sores, which has meant that many peasants and farmers have fled in terror, for the Black Sores touches men as well as horses and sheep and hogs. There has been no trace of Black Sores in Yang-Chau, but we have seen Lice Fever as well as other fevers, from tainted air and the sweat of foreigners. We will endure more fevers before this onerous time is done and hope that the Immortals do not desert us entirely.
Your most devoted younger brother,
Tsa Tsa-Si, Professor
(his chop)
