He took the remaining bundles from the storeroom, nodding toward Hu as he left the shop. The soldier inspected the completed arrow, and then grunted, apparently satisfied. Lin struggled to keep his mouth from gaping in surprise. “This is why our arrows fly faster and bite more deeply into our enemies,” Hu said as he notched the final quill into the shaft. Finally, he demonstrated the placement of the feathers, to minimize drag while promoting spin. He reached for the piece of wood he’d been toying with earlier, showing the soldier how the bamboo shaft must be dried and sanded, just so, to provide strength, yet retain flexibility. He explained how the weight of the feather had to interact precisely with the heft of the arrowhead. Hu’s hands trembled only slightly as he chose a feather from the pile and placed it on the scale. Lin’s breath caught, but his little tiger nodded and stepped up to the work table. He will benefit the empire well, long after I have passed.” “I thought you were the arrow maker, old man.” Voice quivering, he continued, “This boy can serve the Emperor better here, making the finest arrows for his army.” This young man would make up for your incomplete payment.” “Today we collect workers for the wall, as well as taxes. “Not now,” Lin hissed, silently cursing his son’s rash behavior. The boy froze at the sight of the soldier. He scowled, scrutinizing the workroom, just as Hu burst back in. Forgive me, but, I thought they were not due for another week.” He was not a large man, but he was intimidating nonetheless, with his padded shirt and stiff leather shoes. “Your tax ready?” the soldier demanded as he shoved the door open. Lin lurched to his feet, made clumsy by a fresh burst of adrenaline. There was no hope for the boy.Ī cacophony of clattering hooves and squeaking cart wheels signaled the soldiers’ arrival. “No one else bothers to weigh everything.” The next feather was too heavy, so Lin carved away a bit of the mottled quill and weighed it again. Lin had demonstrated, placing a freshly-cut goose feather on the scale, and nodded as it balanced. “This is how we maintain our rank, our family position,” he’d intoned, “with arrows that fly true.” Just last night, Lin had explained yet again the importance of precision in their work. Several of the prepared feathers were too large, so Lin slid into his son’s abandoned seat, sweeping the defective feathers away. Safe.īack in the main room, he surveyed the supplies heaped around the table. Still, the anxiety gripping his heart did not ease until he heard the hushed commotion of his wife and younger children bustling into the hidden cellar. They probably would be reasonable about the small shortfall. His status as a favored craftsman carried weight with the tax collectors. As expected, most of the month’s payment was bundled and ready to go. He scurried to the storeroom to count his stock. It didn’t matter why they were early Lin would pay, regardless. Hard as it was to meet the demand, it still was better than seeing his children conscripted to the army, or forced to toil at the Emperor’s new wall. Emperor Qin demanded many arrows as his tax payment. Perhaps the whispers of rebellion had grown louder. “Yes, Baba,” he said as he bolted toward the back door. Go, tell your mother, take the children to the cellar. “Xiao Hu, did you not hear? The tax collectors are coming. He cherished his little tiger, his Xiao Hu, but sometimes he despaired for the boy’s future. Of course, the boy seemed to be lost, daydreaming, as usual. His teenage son sat at the work table, sanding a small piece of bamboo. A harsh clang from a neighbor’s dropped pan snapped Lin out of his stupor. Other craftsmen peered out their windows, grousing at the boy, or, more likely, cursing the approaching soldiers. The soldiers are early! He stared as the child galloped away, bellowing his warning and whacking shutters with his ratty stick. The Emperor’s men came early.”Ī kernel of fear bloomed in Lin’s chest. Serious people have no time for your foolishness.” Lin leaned out the window of his little workshop. “They’re coming! The soldiers are here,” the child yelled, banging a stick against the doors as he passed.
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