Chapter 118 - 12: Kes Takes His Leave — Studies Done, Home to Build a Homeland

Chapter 118: Chapter 12: Kes Takes His Leave — Studies Done, Home to Build a Homeland

The boat returned to the new capital on the third day of spring.

The ice on the river had long melted through. The spring water had risen half a foot, and the boat ran lighter than on the way out. Kes stood at the bow, and from far off he made out the outline of the new capital — the city wall, the granary roofs, and the stele outside the palace gate. The pack on his back was lighter than when he left, but more than when he left, it was a great matter.

The fields on both banks had turned green. Farmers who had gone down early straightened their backs and looked toward the boat. Kes knew that stretch of ground — last autumn, he and Mery had chosen a granary site near it. In those days, the ground was yellow. Now, the fields had sprouted green. He suddenly thought: after the autumn, when these fields are reaped, the first batch of grain entering the granaries will hold this stretch of wheat.

"What are you thinking about?" Shunzi came up out of the cabin.

"Grain." Kes said. "Thinking when the grain of these fields enters the granaries."

"You," Shunzi said, "one trip to the border, and your head is full of granaries."

"The more granaries in the head," Kes said, "the more settled the grain at home."

The moment the boat touched the dock, Kes did not go to the merchant house, and did not go to the guild — he went straight to the Bureau.

He crossed the market. In the market, the spring goods had just come in — vegetable seedlings, fish, new reed mats. A mat seller saw him and called: "Little master Kes, you are back!" He answered, and his feet did not stop. The stele outside the palace gate stood in the morning light, its twelve characters shining in the sun. Passing it, his steps slowed a little, and he nodded once, lightly, toward the stele.

Lu Zhu was in the courtyard, leading the craft school’s apprentices around the sand tray, practicing wall-laying. He heard the footsteps and looked up.

"You are back." he said.

"I am back." Kes said.

He set his pack down, stood straight, and said: "Teacher, I have thought it through. I am going back to Nubia."

Lu Zhu said nothing. He set down the wooden ruler in his hand, walked over to Kes, and looked his apprentice over, from head to foot.

"Thinner." he said. "And taller."

"The sun." Kes said. "The border sun is harsh."

"Sunned is good." Lu Zhu said. "A craftsman’s face should be exactly this color."

The two of them stood in the courtyard a while. The apprentices crouched behind the sand tray, none of them daring to make a sound.

"Thought through — then go." Lu Zhu said. "This matter, I promised you long ago. With the laws all standing, now is exactly the time." He paused. "Come inside. I will show you a thing."

Inside, on the table, a roll of drawings was spread.

Kes knew it at one glance — the stroke, the style, were his teacher’s. But what was drawn was not the villages of Egypt, and not the wall of the northern border. It was the river valley. It was Nubia. It was the place he had longed for day and night.

"This is . . ."

"These days you were away, I drew it." Lu Zhu said. "The full set. Everything your clan will need from now on is on these pages."

Kes’s hand hung over the drawings a long while before it came down. His fingertip traveled from one end of the map to the other, like a hand touching a land it had been away from too long.

"Four sections." Lu Zhu said. "The dwellings, the granary, the low defense wall, the market. Look at them one by one, look closely, and where something is wrong, say so."

"Yes." Kes said.

Teacher and student went through the drawings one by one, under the lamp.

The dwellings first. The house type Lu Zhu had drawn was adapted from the Haven and the craftsmen’s village of the new capital: stone foundations, mud-brick walls, thick roofs, narrow windows, doors facing the river.

"Teacher," Kes said after a while of looking, "these stone foundations are good. In our valley, there is more stone than earth, and the riverbank is all broken stone. Taken on the spot, it saves material." He paused. "But the walls — I want to make them half an inch thinner."

"Why?"

"The walls of the new capital are thick, to block the wind and the cold." Kes said. "Where we are, it is hot. Half an inch thinner, and the house cools faster at night. With the sun so harsh, the thick roof against the heat is the real thing."

"A right change." Lu Zhu said. "Thick walls or thin walls are no dead number. They follow the ground, and follow the sky." He picked up the charcoal pencil and marked the half inch on the drawing. "This is your first ’northland revision.’ The southland’s way of revising."

"And the flue." Kes said. "Senior brother Seb’s letter said the houses of the northern border need their flues slanted. Where we are, the wind is strong too. The flue must slant too. When the stove burns, the smoke is led out, not poured back into the room."

"Right." Lu Zhu said. "The experience your senior brother Seb warmed out on the wall — do not waste it."

"And the door." Kes said. "The door faces the river. In summer, the wind comes up from the river, through the house and out. Sleeping at night, it is cool."

"A door facing the river can watch the water too." Lu Zhu said. "With water before the door, the heart sits steady."

The granary next. By the Ever-Normal Granary’s sample: the foundation raised three inches, crushed stone one foot at the wall foot, narrow windows slantwise across, the granary door following the road.

"The site, I will set it on the high ridge." Kes said. "Uncle En-Tu said the flat ground at the village mouth is low, and floods when it rains. The high ridge is half a li from the spring and half a li from the river — both waters are near." He spoke faster and faster with excitement, and drew out his own board from behind his waist. "Teacher, look — I have drawn my clan’s whole ground: three places where people live, one old spring, one grain-drying field. The granary, right here; the houses, laid out along the spring; the medical point, between the houses and the granary. The drying ground, moved from the village-mouth flat to below the ridge’s slope. The slope pools no water, and the grain dries fast."

Lu Zhu took the board and looked at it a while.

"Good." he said. "You can choose your own sites now. This half year, you did not walk it in vain."

"It all came from following senior brother Mery, one step to a village, measuring it." Kes said.

"Once the granary stands," Lu Zhu said, "it still needs people to keep it. Choose a keeper. Woser of Thebes said it — the keys never leave the body, and the granary opens only with two men present. Your clan’s granary follows the same."

"My mother." Kes said. "My mother knows characters, and can count. Let her keep it first. Later, I will teach the young fellows."

"Good." Lu Zhu said. "The granary follows the people. When the people have roots, the granary has a master."

Third, the low defense wall. Kes said: "At the valley’s edge, there is no great army, but there are roving bandits, and wild beasts. The wall need not be tall — chest-high is enough, a crenellation raised at the corner, and men on night watch. The set senior brother Seb raised on the west line — we can use it where we are."

"You can use it." Lu Zhu said. "Your senior brother Seb’s wall held off seventeen riders. Follow the lay of the ground, and refine it further."

"I will refine it." Kes said. "The valley’s mouth is narrow, so the wall stands at the mouth. The road inside turns twice, and the wild beasts cannot get in." He paused. "For the night watch, torches. Three households’ places, one man from each, taking turns."

"The wall guards against the outside." Lu Zhu said. "The watch roster guards against going slack inside. Once the people go slack, the wall stands for nothing."

"I understand." Kes said. "The same principle as the teacher’s ’the people settle in first.’ Settled in, they must still be able to hold it."

The market last. Kes said: "This one, I will build after the model of Uncle Meru’s West Bank market. Timber shop fronts, stall tables all one measure at five feet, two drainage ditches. The caravan donkeys tie up at the market’s east end. The boats tie up at the ferry. From now on, my clan’s goods go out through the market; the salt, material, and medicine from outside come in through the market."

"Meru set three rules in that market." Lu Zhu said. "Do you remember them?"

"I remember." Kes said. "Stalls divided into sections, open prices with no cheating, and shared care of the waterways. Three rules — I will carry them over, not one dropped."

"And the credit." Kes said. "Uncle Meru’s building-material house on the West Bank gives credit, repaid at the autumn harvest, the ledger bound with handprints. Where we are, the same. When the clanspeople cannot afford the material, credit first, repaid after the harvest."

"Good." Lu Zhu said. "What is credited is material, what is repaid is grain, and what is saved up is trust. Once the market has trust, people are all willing to come."

"One thing more." Kes said. "Uncle Meru said, on the credit ledger the handprints are pressed — ’what is credited is hope.’ From now on, my clan’s credit ledger must also let the people who press their handprints press them willingly, from the heart."

"Pressed willingly from the heart," Lu Zhu said, "is what makes good trade."

"Good." Lu Zhu said. "The market is your own trade. That one, I will not change for you."

"Then . . ." Kes hesitated, "Teacher, do you think — these four, can they be done?"

"They can." Lu Zhu said. "Step by step, they can."

He spread the four drawings out again: "But there is an order. Step one, first gather the people. When the people are back, put up the temporary shelters first — with material ready to hand, three days and they can live in them. Step two, find the water. That old spring of your clan’s — clear it first, and build a well platform. The water must be clean before people can settle. Step three, raise the granary. The granary must be the first to stand — once the people gather, what is most feared is the grain. With the grain in a granary, the people’s hearts settle. Step four, and only then, raise the houses one by one. When the houses are all up, last of all, the market and the wall."

"Settle in first, then live, then stand." Kes repeated.

"Right." Lu Zhu said. "Your first three months back in Nubia — do this one thing: let the clanspeople settle in first." He paused. "One sentence more. Better slow than rotten. Better to raise only three rooms the first month than to be greedy for speed, raise ten, and have nine rotten. One rotten room, and the people’s hearts scatter one measure."

"Better slow than rotten." Kes wrote the words onto his board, stroke by stroke.

"The days, I have laid them out for you too." Lu Zhu said. "Step one, gather the people and raise the shelters — three to five days. Step two, clear the spring and build the platform — ten days. Step three, raise the granary — half a month. Step four, and only then, the houses." He paused. "First gather, then water, then granary, then houses. This order — not one step may be turned upside down."

"Not one step upside down." Kes said. "First give people a place to sleep, then clean water, then a granary for the grain, and only at the last, the home."

"Right." Lu Zhu said. "The home is the last thing to stand up — and the firmest."

That night, teacher and student sat before the drawings a long time. The flame of the oil lamp threw their two shadows on the wall, now long, now short. Outside the courtyard, the sound of the spring water came from far off over the river.

"Teacher," Kes suddenly said, "when I came four years ago, I could not even read a drawing."

"Now," Lu Zhu said, "you can draw, you can measure, you can revise."

"What else can I do?" Kes asked.

"You can read people." Lu Zhu said. "A man who reads the ground can read drawings; a man who reads people can carry a whole clan." He paused. "In this, you are ahead of Seb. Seb’s eyes hold the wall; your eyes hold the days ahead of a whole clan."

"I . . ." Kes hung his head, "I am still afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of carrying it badly." Kes said. "The clan’s forty-some households are handing their lives to me."

"Do not be afraid." Lu Zhu said. "The drawings in your hands were drawn with experience bought by lives. And behind you, there is still us. Whatever you cannot make sure of, send a letter back. The letter arrives, and the people arrive." He paused. "Remember — you are not going back alone. You are going back carrying the handcraft of a whole city."

"The handcraft of a whole city." Kes said the words once, and then once more.

The night deepened. Lu Zhu walked Kes to the courtyard gate.

"Teacher," Kes stood inside the gate and suddenly said, "do you not miss home?"

Lu Zhu’s steps paused for a moment.

The night wind blew in from the lane’s mouth, carrying the damp of the river. He looked up at the sky. There were stars, and the few in the south were especially bright.

"I do." he said. "But my home is farther than yours. So far . . . there is no going back." He paused, and his voice sank. "And so, watching you go home is like watching myself go home."

"Then . . ." Kes said, "when I have stood firm in the south, my home will be your home. Whenever you want to come, you come."

"Good." Lu Zhu said. "Those words, I will remember."

Before dawn the next day, Lu Zhu called Kes up.

Teacher and student stood in the courtyard. The morning mist had not yet scattered, and on the sand tray in the corner, a thin layer of dew had settled.

"Everything packed?" Lu Zhu asked.

"Packed." Kes said.

"Spread it out. I will look at it one by one."

Kes untied the pack and spread everything on the blue stone slabs. Lu Zhu crouched down and looked first at the drawings, then the household register, then the roll of law. At the sample drawing of the medicine chest, he picked it up and looked at it against the light. At the packet of salt, his movements slowed.

"Your mother’s salt." he said.

"It is." Kes said.

Lu Zhu said nothing more. He put the things back one by one, and wrapped the pack. Then, from inside his own robe, he drew out a length of hemp line — soaked in lime water, snow white.

"This line," he said, "your senior brother Mery has one. The day I gave it to him, I said one sentence: straight wall, straight heart."

He laid the line in Kes’s palm and closed his fingers over it.

"This one is yours." Lu Zhu said. "The walls of the south — plumb them with it. The line straight, the wall straight. The wall straight, and you will stand firm in the south."

Kes gripped the line, and his throat moved: "Teacher, I will remember. Straight wall, straight heart."

"Go, then." Lu Zhu said. "Check the cargo on the boats once more. The sailing hour waits for no one."

The next day, Meru came.

He brought the boat manifests, and two full boats of cargo.

"The first boat," Meru said, "is building material. Stone, timber, straw binding, lime earth — enough to raise ten rooms. The second is grain and medicine. Thirty dan of grain, ten chests of medicine — enough for your clan to eat until the start of autumn." He handed Kes the manifests. "This is the merchant house’s outfitting for you. The old rule — supplied first, settled after. The account waits until your clan’s granary stands and the autumn harvest comes in, and then it is repaid."

"Uncle Meru . . ." Kes took the manifests, and felt the page heavy in his hand.

"Do not be in a hurry to thank me." Meru said. "There is more. The merchant house’s docks along the river have all been spoken to. Wherever your boats go, the support goes. The border transit storehouse — the first batch of material is set aside for you. En-Tu and his people have already gone back ahead, and carried the word to your clan — your mother should already know you are coming home."

"My mother . . ." Kes’s voice caught.

"She knows." Meru said. "When En-Tu left, I had him carry a message: ’Your son has finished his study, and is coming home.’"

Kes turned away and looked at the southern sky for a long time.

"Uncle Meru," he said with his back turned, "how do I repay this kindness?"

"No repayment." Meru said. "Go back to the south, feed your clanspeople, and stand your days up. From now on, when the merchant house’s boats reach the border river, your clan’s goods — the first share goes to the merchant house. That is enough." He knocked his pipe. "What men of trade hope for most is a customer like you — the people there, the days there, the trade there."

"There." Kes said. "All there."

"One thing more." Meru said. "The south line — from now on, Shunzi runs it twice a month. Your clan’s goods, he receives; your clan’s manifests, he delivers." He pointed at Shunzi, who was checking manifests on the dock. "This young fellow reckons accounts more and more sharply."

"Uncle Meru, set your heart at rest." Kes said. "Shunzi’s accounts, I trust."

Meru drew out a small wooden board and pressed it into Kes’s hand. Carved on the board was the merchant house’s mark — one circle, with three water lines inside it.

"This board," Meru said, "is your clan’s mark. From now on, when you draw goods from the border transit storehouse, present the board against the manifest. The manifest matches the mark, and the store lets out the material. Set-aside material to its set-aside use — no one may cut it."

"This board," Kes said, "is more precious than my clan’s door boards."

"Equally precious." Meru said. "The door board guards the home; this board guards the grain."

The loading was the day before the departure.

The two boats’ cargo, the men loaded from morning to sunset. The grain, sack by sack, stacked at the bottom of the hold, on reed mats; the medicine, chest by chest, raised half a foot and covered with oilcloth; the stone and timber, piled in the stern hold, bound with three turns of heavy rope. Every bundle and every chest had a wooden label hung on it. The label said its destination — "NUBIA, THE RIVER VALLEY."

"Labels hung well." Meru watched from the bank. "The merchant house’s rule — set-aside material to its set-aside use, its own boat with its own label. This cargo is for Kes’s clan, and no one may cut it."

"It cannot be cut." the men said. "The label is there, and the cargo is there."

The "Through to the South" flag at the bow had been embroidered through the night by several women of the new capital. When it was done, they said: "The south has no flag like this, so we embroidered one for the south. From now on, at the sight of it, people will know: the boat carries grain, and medicine, and cargo for the living."

"This flag," Meru said, "is the merchant house’s flag, and the south line’s flag. When Kes has stood firm in the south, I will have his clan’s market hang one too."

In the lanes of the new capital, the word of Kes’s going home had spread too.

Some said good: "Study done, going home to stand a home for his clan — that is a proper matter." Some said foolish: "The new capital is so grand a stage, and he goes back to that bitter place?" The ones who said foolish were mostly the ones who had never been hungry. The ones who had been hungry all understood.

Under the stele outside the palace gate, several children gathered around Kes: "Brother Kes, does the south have a stele?"

"Not yet." Kes said. "When the law reaches the south, and the granaries stand, it will have one too."

"Then we will go south to see it!" the children said.

"Come." Kes said. "I will lead you to look."

The pack was filled, item by item, by everyone.

Kamon came earliest. He brought a set of chiseling tools — one stone chisel, one hammer, wrapped in oilcloth, three layers of it.

"The southland has much stone." Kamon said. "This chisel has followed you for years now. The walls of the south, you will use it." He pressed the tools into Kes’s hands, and added one sentence: "In the guild, I have left the word: from now on, when Kes raises work in the south and lacks hands, the craftsmen of the West Bank come when they are called."

"Thank you, Uncle Kamon." Kes said.

"No thanks." Kamon said. "The guild’s rule — the handcraft is not divided into households. Your work is the guild’s work." He paused, and suddenly straightened his face. "But one condition. The chisel is given to you — the handcraft cannot be given. Once in the south, if a wall goes up crooked, it is the guild’s face that is lost."

"It will not go crooked." Kes said. "Plumbed with the lime line, one inch crooked, and I take it down and do it again."

"Good." Kamon said. "Those words sound like a man of the guild."

"One thing more." Kamon lowered his voice. "In the guild, I have set aside three craftsmen, waiting only for your letter. The letter comes, and they go. Wages at the guild’s rates. If your clan cannot pay for a while, owe it first. The guild’s account waits until after the autumn." He paused. "This is not my idea alone. It was the guild’s whole body, raising their hands in the branch hall."

"Raising their hands . . ." Kes’s throat tightened again.

"Do not be a stranger." Kamon said. "The guild’s people, most of us came up from hardship. Who among us has no father or mother waiting in the old home? You are going back to stand a home, and what we are helping is not you alone."

Hapy came early too. He carried a bundle of hemp rope, a material-record book, and a wooden rammer he had made himself.

"This rope," Hapy said, "is twisted from new hemp, for hoisting material. This book is the sample I brought over from the quarry — how the material is recorded, how the labor is counted, all written inside." He set the rammer down on the ground with a thud. "This one, I made it over three nights. It is not heavy — even a child can swing it. You will use it for the foundations back home."

"Hapy," Kes said, "this thoughtfulness of yours . . ."

"Take it." Hapy said. "I am clumsy with words. Things work better than words."

Shafi and Imset came together.

Shafi carried a medicine chest, divided into three layers: for wounds, for wind and chill, for stomach pains. Every layer had a label pasted on it, with the usage written.

"This chest," Shafi said, "is fitted by the medical point’s sample. When it is used up, exchange it with the manifest at the transit storehouse. The medicine’s account, I keep it under your clan’s medical point’s name." She drew out another roll of paper. "This is the sample drawing of the medical point — how the compound is laid, how high the medicine cabinets are raised, which way the windows open, all drawn. Go back, and build by this."

"I will memorize it to the back." Kes said.

"And this book." Shafi drew out another thin volume of account samples. "The medical point’s accounts are kept by the same method as the granary’s. Reported the same day, posted at the month’s end. Your clan’s medical point, on its first day of opening, must first set up its account. Only when the account stands does the medicine not go to disorder."

"Written down." Kes said. "Sister Shafi’s accounts are the sample of all Egypt."

Imset did not say much. He stood to one side, and only spoke when Shafi had finished: "The medical point — do not build it by the river. The damp is heavy, and the medicine spoils fast. And do not build it downwind of the drying ground. One gust, and the dust gets into the medicine." He paused, and his eyes rested far off. "Between the houses and the granary is best."

"I will remember." Kes said. "The teacher said it — the medical point is the backing of the lives, and the granary is the backing of the grain. The nearer the two backings stand, the better."

"Your teacher," Imset said, "teaches well."

"One thing more." Imset drew a small packet of herbs from his sleeve. "This is a prescription for the eyes. Your mother looks north every day, and her eyes are strained. Go back, and boil this in water to wash her eyes." He paused. "When the medical point stands, I will have Shafi fit another batch of the common medicines for you."

Kes held the packet and bowed deep: "Thank you, Teacher Imset."

"One matter more." Imset said. "The examination of physicians belongs to the guild. When your southern medical point stands, the guild will send people to examine it. If your clan has a clever young fellow, send him to the new capital to study. Study, and then go back." He paused. "A medical point — one room is easy to raise. One good physician is hard to find."

"I will look for one." Kes said. "The clan has a half-grown boy, fine-hearted, with a good memory. When spring opens, I will send him on the road."

"Good." Imset said. "The medicine road is like the trade road — once opened, it is not cut."

Asaf and Tia came the day before the departure.

Asaf brought a copied roll of the law: "The four laws, one share for each person. The counties of the south all belong to Egypt’s officials now. From now on, if anyone of your clan is made to work for nothing, take this roll and find the county magistrate." He paused. "No levies in the busy season, paid labor in the idle season. These eight words work just as well outside the new capital."

"They work." Kes said. "I can recite them from the back."

"One thing more." Asaf said. "When you reach the county, first pay your respects to the county magistrate. Show him your household register sample. From now on, when things come up where you are, the state must tend them." He paused. "The law is not something enshrined in a temple. It is held in the hand, ready to use at any time."

"I understand." Kes said. "The law is like a chisel — a tool for the work."

"And this." Asaf drew out a sheet — a road pass, stamped with the Civil Affairs Bureau’s seal. "This document opens your road. The county magistrates along the way, seeing it, will know you are sent back south by the state to raise granaries. With it, no one on the road dares to trouble you." He paused. "Remember — this seal is not for throwing your weight around. It is for guarding your road, your grain, and your people."

"I will remember." Kes said. "The heavier the seal, the heavier the burden."

What Tia brought was one blank household register.

"Once your clanspeople gather," she said, "the first matter is setting up the register. One household — how many mouths, how many rooms, how many mu of land, how many dou of grain — each and every one, written clear." She handed the register to Kes. "With the names in the register, the people have roots. From now on, when the grain and the land are divided, the register speaks."

"The register speaks . . ." Kes took the household register and turned two pages, and suddenly smiled. "Sister Tia, half my clan cannot read."

"Which is exactly why I am sending it back with you." Tia said. "You teach first. Teach one, and he teaches the next. Your mother knows characters, does she not? Let her keep it." She paused. "My accounts never cheat people. Your clan’s register should not cheat people either."

"My mother," Kes said, "knows characters. This register, she will keep."

"One thing more." Tia drew out a small packet of charcoal pencils. "These are the new capital’s charcoal pencils, hard-wearing. On the road, use them to practice your writing."

She opened the register then and there and slowly wrote in the first line: "Look. Head of household: Kes’s mother. Mouths: one. Land: none. Rooms: none. Grain: none." She paused, and the tip of the brush stopped on the word "none." "This is your mother’s register as it stands. When you go back and stand the home up, these ’none’s must be changed into ’have’s, one by one. Land, three mu; rooms, three; grain, ten dou. Changed through, and only then is this register truly stood."

"Change them." Kes said. "I will change them, one by one."

"The register’s rule," Tia said, "is the same as the account’s: true. What there is, is; what there is not, is not. A register that cheats is worse than no register."

"In my clan," Kes said, "from now on, what is written in the register is all true."

The Thebes letter arrived the night before. The chief officiant wrote two lines: "The incense does not break, and the lamps burn long. The southern road is far; in the sky, there are lamps." Nefer sent two bolts of newly woven coarse cloth, with a sheet attached: "A house must have people to live in it, and cloth must have people to wear it. The days are being begun over, and not one thing may be missing. For your mother, cut a new robe."

Kes folded the cloth and laid it at the very bottom of the wicker trunk.

The northern letter came back from the West Bank with Shunzi. The dust of the north clung to its cover. Kes opened it — it was Seb’s hand:

"You hold the south, and I hold the north. The roads north and south must both run open. From now on, you raise the granaries of the southland, and I keep the wall of the northern border. What the teacher taught — do not let it drop."

On the back of the letter, a small tower was drawn. Under the tower were two characters: Take care.

Kes folded the letter and laid it together with the packet of salt.

On the day of departure, many people came to the dock of the new capital, from every lane and every worksite.

The merchant house’s boats, two of them, loaded full to the brim, one riding heavy behind the other. At the bow hung a new flag — still the merchant house’s flag, but on its corner, a new line of small characters was embroidered: Through to the South.

"This flag," Meru said, "is the south line’s flag from now on. Flying it, from the new capital to the border river, every dock along the way knows it."

"I will remember this flag." Kes said.

The people who came to see him off stood half the dock long.

Shafi stood on tiptoe and tucked one last roll of oilcloth into Kes’s pack: "The boat is damp — wrap the drawings and the registers in oilcloth. Once in the south, sun them first." She paused. "One thing more — your clan’s first patient, enter them on the first page of the medical account. When you write it, think of me, lighting a lamp for you in the new capital."

"I will think of it." Kes said.

Meru stood at the boat’s side and said one last thing: "On the road, listen to the water. At the border river, first send someone to report your safety." He knocked his pipe. "A boat reporting safety runs with the current. One day, and it reaches the border."

"Report." Kes said. "The first matter ashore is reporting our safety to the new capital."

The guild’s young craftsmen tucked a brand-new set of rope plummets into Kes’s pack. The old flatbread seller tucked in a bag of breads fresh from the pot: "For the road. Do not go hungry." Several old men who often came to petition at the palace gate came too, and took Kes’s hands in both of theirs, one after another: "Young fellow, back in the south, stand the days up for us too."

"Stand them." Kes said. "I will surely stand them."

The apprentices gathered in a ring. A half-grown apprentice said: "Senior brother Kes, when we go to Nubia one day, we will come and sponge meals off you, and stay in your new houses!"

"Come." Kes said. "Meals enough, rooms enough. All kept for you."

"Then it is settled!" The apprentices roared with laughter.

A few of the craft school’s apprentices came too. They stood in a row before Kes and said: "Senior brother Kes, that wall-laying you showed at the sand tray that day — we practice it every day. Two months of practice, and we have only caught up to half of you."

"Only half?" Kes smiled. "Then you must keep practicing. When you have practiced it through, whoever is willing to go south — my place never has enough hands."

"I will go!" A small apprentice snatched the word. "When I have finished studying, I will go south and find senior brother!"

"I will go too!"

"Count me in!"

"All remembered." Kes said. "I will be waiting for you in the river valley."

On the dock, the common people watching argued among themselves. Some counted on their fingers: "Two boats of cargo, material for ten rooms, thirty dan of grain — this is sending a whole settlement into a bitter place." Others took it up: "What is sent is cargo; what touches down is roots. This trade is worth it."

"Worth it." The old fish seller beside them said. "When I was young, I thought of going back to my village to stand a home too. It never came to pass. Now, watching this young fellow, I will take it as if he has stood that home of mine up for me."

Mery came too. He carried a pack — spring had opened, and the second batch of granaries was about to break ground. His boat and Kes’s boat would travel the same waterway.

"Senior brother," Kes said, "you are . . ."

"I am seeing you off." Mery said. "Past River-Channel Village, I go ashore, and you go on south." He smiled. "Your going home — I was the first to support it. Forgotten?"

"Not forgotten." Kes said. "What you wrote in the letter. I read it three times."

"One thing more." Mery drew a thin volume from inside his robe. "The Simple Manual for the Building and Keeping of Ever-Normal Granaries — one more copy. This one is yours. On the cover, I added a few characters."

Kes took it and turned open the cover. On the title page, in Mery’s neat hand, one line had been added: "This volume travels south with Kes. The granaries of Nubia are raised by it."

Kes held the volume to his chest, and for a long while, no words came out.

"Come," Mery said, "before you go, I will test you three questions."

"Test." Kes said.

"First. A granary on high ground, half a li from the river — why is it good?"

"Near the water, clear of the damp." Kes said. "The hauling is easy, and the damp does not come."

"Second. Grain enters the granary — the first thing?"

"Weigh it, enter it in the account, report it the same day."

"Third." Mery looked at him. "If a wall goes up crooked — what then?"

"Take it down." Kes said. "One inch crooked, one foot taken down."

"All correct." Mery smiled. "Go. This apprentice of yours — you have graduated."

The hour of sailing came.

The boatmen cast off the mooring line. The bow slowly drew away from the dock.

Kes stood at the bow, and bowed deep toward the shore. Then he lifted the hem of his robe, and knelt down there, on the deck.

"Teacher!" he shouted.

"Rise!" Lu Zhu stood on the bank.

"This first bow," Kes said, "is for you teaching me the handcraft!" He knocked his head once against the deck.

"This second bow," he shouted, "is for you granting me the going home!" He knocked his head again.

"This third bow," his voice trembled once in the wind, "is for you letting me know — how much one man can do for a whole clan!" The third knock came down heavy and true.

The shore went still for a moment.

Lu Zhu stepped forward two paces. The spring water washed over his shoe tops, and he paid it no mind. He reached out, pulled Kes up, and clapped his shoulder across the gunwale.

"A good man," Lu Zhu said, "sets his heart on the four quarters."

Kes raised his head. His face was covered in tears. But his eyes were bright.

"Teacher," he said, "I am going."

"Go." Lu Zhu said. "Go, and make a shape of it."

"One thing more." Lu Zhu held the gunwale and said, "When things come up, write. And in the letters, do not report only the good and hide the bad. The good — we share your joy; the bad — we share your burden."

"I will write." Kes said. "One letter a month."

"Too many." Lu Zhu said. "One every two months. The rest of the time — work."

"Yes." Kes’s tears broke into a smile. "Work."

The boat went slowly south.

Two boats, one before the other. The flags at the bows snapped in the spring wind. Kes stood at the bow, looking north the whole time. The people on the shore waved to him. Lu Zhu did not wave. He stood on the dock with his hands behind his back, and stood until the two boats had become two small points on the river.

"Teacher," Hapy said in a low voice, "the boats have gone far."

"Far is good." Lu Zhu said.

"The apprentices you taught," Hapy said, "one in the south, one in the north, one in the middle. Teacher, this school of yours is scattered all over the world."

"One is still missing." Lu Zhu said.

"Who?"

"One who can go on teaching." Lu Zhu said. "And so this craft school must go on." He turned and walked back. A few steps on, he stopped and looked back once. On the southern stretch of the river, the spring water rippled wide, and the sunlight lay broken across a whole river.

"This river," Lu Zhu said, "running south, is home."

In the deep mansions of the new capital, someone had learned the news too.

"Two boats of cargo, given away for nothing." the tall thin man said. "That Meru truly throws the merchant house’s money into the river."

"What do you know." the old noble said. "Those two boats of cargo are buying the southern road. Once the southern road is open, the merchant house’s boats have work every month. This is not throwing money away — it is laying down capital." He sipped his tea. "Besides, that bitter southern place — they are willing to go, all the better. Their people, one south, one north, are all scattered to the ends of the sky. The stall here in the new capital is looser."

"The gentleman’s meaning is . . ."

"You know what." the old noble said. "Just this — the wider they spread, the less they can tend. When people cannot tend it all, they must beg for help. And beg whom? Our people — the ones ’with land.’" He set down the tea bowl, slowly, and said, "Wait."

"Wait." the tall thin man said, low.

The boats passed the West Bank, passed Thebes, passed the border of Upper Egypt.

The fields on both banks had turned green. The wheat had just sprouted, ridge after ridge, soft and green. Kes rose before dawn every day, stood at the bow, and looked at the drawings Lu Zhu had given him, page by page. When he had looked them familiar, he closed the drawings and drew them from memory on his board. Where he drew wrong, he wiped it and began again.

"Senior brother," he said to Mery, "I must draw these maps until I can trace them with my eyes shut."

"Trace." Mery said. "Trace until the maps are in your heart. With the maps in your heart, when you reach the south, the stones, the sand, and the sun will all know you."

"This heart of mine," Kes said, "is now half maps, and half home."

"When you reach home," Mery said, "the two halves will join into one."

Passing the West Bank, the guild’s craftsmen stood on the bank and waved. Old Camel shouted: "Kes! When the southern granary stands, send word! The guild will record your merit!"

"Record the merit!" the craftsmen shouted.

Kes bowed deep toward them from the bow.

Passing Thebes, the boat did not put in. But on the city wall, someone saw the merchant house’s flag. No one knew who, and a voice shouted over the river: "The boat through to the south! A fair wind all the way!"

"A fair wind!" the people on the boat shouted back.

On the Thebes bank, under the peace board, A-He was leading a few children in reading the characters aloud. He looked up, saw the shape of the boat, and knew Kes, and shouted: "Brother Kes! Going south!"

"Going south!" Kes shouted back. "Study well, all of you!"

"We are studying!" A-He shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. "When you come back, I will read a hundred characters to you!"

The boats passed the county granary. The old bricklayer stood on the high ridge and waved once at the boat, and said nothing. Kes clasped his fists toward him. Both of them understood what it meant.

Mery was not idle the whole way. He explained the south line’s granaries to Kes, one by one: "The new capital’s, the West Bank’s, Thebes’, the county’s, River-Channel Village’s . . . count them — when your clan’s granary stands, it is the next one in this net. From now on, when the grain runs over, it enters the official granaries’ net; when the grain runs short, it is drawn from the net."

"My clan’s granary," Kes said, "is one of the Ever-Normal Granary net too?"

"It is." Mery said. "The Ever-Normal Granary law is written: every granary under heaven, official or temple. Your clan’s granary, raised by the law, is kept by the law. The accounts — the same, reported the same day."

"Then when I go back," Kes said, "the first matter is setting up the granary’s account."

"Right." Mery said. "The granary holds the grain, and the law holds the people’s hearts. Neither end may stand empty."

On the boat, Kes was not idle either. He studied the trade accounts with Shunzi — how the cargo is counted, how the manifests are matched, how the losses are discounted. Shunzi taught earnestly, and Kes learned fast. Once, matching a manifest, Shunzi deliberately wrote one packet of salt two jin short. Kes swept his eye over it and said: "Wrong. This manifest does not match."

"Where is it wrong?" Shunzi asked.

"The salt — two jin under-recorded." Kes said.

"Fine work!" Shunzi was pleased. "That was my test. From now on, your clan’s goods — check them yourself first. Once they match, then onto my boat. Two pairs of eyes are safer than one."

"A good test." Kes said. "An error on the paper is better than an error on the dock."

Another stretch along, Mery suddenly asked: "Your clan, as it stands, is scattered in three places. When you go back, will you let the three places live each on its own, or gather them into one?"

"Gather into one." Kes said. "Uncle En-Tu says all three places are broken shelters, one patch east, one patch west. I have reckoned it — gathered beside the high ridge of the valley, the granary, the medical point, the market, and the school can all stand. Scattered, everything is spread thin."

"Well reckoned." Mery said. "Your teacher said it — a settlement, a settlement: first gather, then settle. When the people gather, the strength gathers; when the strength gathers, the granary can stand."

"But some of the clan are attached to the old places." Kes said. "The old ground they are used to living on, they may not be willing to move."

"Then raise the granary first." Mery said. "With the granary on the high ridge, the people will naturally draw toward it. Where the grain is, the home is. That is the principle your teacher understood from his very first roll."

"Where the grain is, the home is." Kes wrote these nine words onto his board.

At River-Channel Village, Mery went ashore.

At parting, Mery stood on the dock and said: "Kes, remember three sentences. The first: the wall must be straight. The second: the account must be true. The third: the people must settle in first."

"Remembered." Kes said.

"Go." Mery said. "In the south, there are granaries of yours waiting to be raised."

Kes waved to Mery from the bow. The boat went on south.

Past the fishing village, the post road narrowed, and the river widened. The water of the border river could already be seen. The trees on both banks were green to the point of black. Long-legged water birds started up from the reed beds and flew far out, skimming the water.

"This water," Shunzi said, "is warmer than the new capital’s."

"The water of the south," Kes said, "has always been warm."

"Four years ago, going north," Shunzi said, "which road did you take?"

"This one." Kes said. "In those days, I rode on a date boat. The bottom leaked, and I plugged it with my foot the whole way." He smiled. "Now, going back, I ride the merchant house’s great boats, two boats of cargo, full."

"A man," Shunzi said, "has to ride one leaking boat to know the good of a great one."

"And to know," Kes said, "how the days ahead should be lived."

Passing the border, Kes saw the transit storehouse. The new wooden board hung on its door, and in the wind he could faintly make out the six characters: MERCHANT HOUSE SOUTH LINE TRANSIT STOREHOUSE. At the storehouse door, a man waved to him.

"My storehouse." Kes said in a low voice.

"Your storehouse." Shunzi said. "From now on, I run twice a month, to renew its stock."

On the bank, a man cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted: "Brother Kes! En-Tu and his people crossed the river three days ago! Your mother — these past days she has been sitting at the village mouth every day!"

"Heard!" Kes shouted back. "Tell my mother — her son comes ashore and comes straight there!"

When the shouting was done, he laughed at himself first. Laughing, his eyes went a little wet again. He turned his face to the river wind and stood a while before he pressed the rising thing back down.

The boat went on south.

Kes stood at the bow and tightened his pack. Inside the pack were the drawings, and the household register, and the roll of law, and the sample drawing of the medicine chest, and the chiseling tools, and the packet of salt and the few copper pieces, and the eye medicine, and the new capital’s charcoal pencils, and the snow-white lime line.

At nightfall, the boat anchored in a river bend. Kes could not sleep. He sat at the bow with his board on his knees.

He remembered that four years ago, the first time he had seen Lu Zhu was on a worksite of the West Bank. In those days, he could not even swing the rammer straight. It was Lu Zhu who had taught him, hand on hand, to read the line, to know the earth, to reckon the material. After that, Kamon taught him to use the chisel, Meru taught him to check the cargo, Mery led him measuring the land, Shafi taught him to read the medicine labels, Tia taught him to write the household register, and Seb wrote the methods of holding the wall, one by one, in his letters.

A wandering Nubian boy, just like that, taught by the people of one whole city, little by little, into the shape he was now.

On his board, he slowly wrote three sentences:

The wall must be straight. The account must be true. The people must settle in first.

When the writing was done, he closed the board and looked up at the sky. The stars of the south were brighter than the north’s. He suddenly smiled, and said in a low voice: "New capital, I am going. From now on, in the south, I will stand up a new capital just like you for them."

The river wind blew lightly, and the boat rocked lightly. The water sounds of the spring night were like people far away, answering him.

He looked at the southern sky, at the shoreline at the sky’s edge, coming nearer and nearer.

The wind blew up from the south, warm.

"Mother," he said in a low voice, "your son is back."

The bow plowed open the spring water. The two boats, one before the other, went steadily toward the direction of Nubia.

The spring water ripples wide, and the two boats go toward Nubia. Kes stands at the bow, and in his pack are four drawings, one household register, one roll of law, one set of chiseling tools, and the salt his mother saved for three years. The new capital is far now, and the river valley near. He knows the true work has only just begun — gathering the people, finding the water, raising the granary, building the houses, and one home after another, to be stood up, little by little, on that sun-scorched land. And to the north, Seb’s letter is still in his robe. You hold the south, and I hold the north. The roads north and south must both run open.

(End of Chapter 12)