One of the caravans had come farther than the rest; the leader of the procession of donkeys and camels was Persian, and two of his men came from the region on the west side of the Black Sea. This caravan was most carefully watched by the officers of the Tribunal of Dong-Lin, for it was rare that such merchants penetrated China as deeply as they had, or had brought so much red amber from the wild peoples of the far northwest. Three customs officials crowded around the Bactrian camels and demanded of the merchants to be told what the animals were carrying, beyond the two casks of amber.

"They carry furs for writing brushes, and dyes, among other things," said the leader in poor Chinese. "We have some trinkets, too. We cannot carry bulky merchandise, or we risk losing it to the bandits along the road, and we cannot transport anything very heavy, for the sake of our animals."

"Is that all? What else do you bring to sell? Answer, you dog's head!" the Tribunal Guard ordered as he slapped his leather trousers with a short whip, grinning at the threat he was making.

"I have an account of it all with me," said the Persian, reaching into his fox-fur, long vest and pulling out a folded cotton cloth on which he had written his lists. "Here. If you have anyone who knows Persian, you will know all."

The most august of the customs officials came up to the Persian. "You would do well to speak respectfully, foreigner."

With a shrug the Persian gestured his greeting in the Chinese fashion although he spoke in his native language. "I ask your pardon. It has been a long journey, and, what with the winter going on longer than ususal, I, my men, and my animals are tired."

The Guard reached out and grabbed the Persian by the shoulders. "You will speak in a civilized tongue, foreigner!"

"My Chinese is poor," he said in Chinese.

"You're right-it is poor." The senior customs official looked to his comrades. "Is there someone in Dong-Lin who could interpret this man's statements for us? Someone who speaks Chinese better than he does?"

"Among the foreign merchants?" The Guard looked about without any real hope of finding one.

"Of course, or one of the innkeepers," said another of the customs officers. "Whomelse would we call upon?"

The Persian shrugged again. "I have only just arrived, and this place is new to me. I have no ... no idea of what merchants are here, and who among them knows Persian." He was reaching the limits of his ability to speak.

The senior customs official cut the Persian off with a motion of his moon fan that was marked with his chop. "A sensible solution, it seems to me." He gestured to the Guard. "Go about the area and find out if any of the merchants speaks this man's tongue-"

"Persian," he interjected.

"Persian," said the customs officer. He nodded to his comrades. "Let us inspect what we can and make a record of what we find."

"That is most reasonable," said the more eager of his two colleagues. "Shall I summon a scribe?"

"Not quite yet, I think. I think it would be best to wait until we can have somewhat clearer discourse with the Persian." He indicated a protected arcade. "Sit there, foreigner, until we tell you otherwise."

The Persian sighed. "And my men? They are tired and hungry."

"Send them to the Inn of the Two Camels." He pointed to the hostelry. "They cater to foreigners there, and we will know where to find your men."

"That I will," said the Persian, calling out instructions to his men in Persian, and, for the sake of the customs officials, ending in Chinese, "Go to the inn. I will join you when I am through here."

The man from Odessus on the Black Sea answered in his outlandish tongue for all the men, "As you order; you will find us there, refreshing ourselves," and signaled the rest of the men to hand over their animals to the grooms of the customs officials. There was a ruffle of activity as the men did as they had been told, most of them speaking languages the officials could not identify.

When his men had departed, the Persian bowed in the manner of his people. "I am at your service," he said in Chinese.

"As you should be," said the senior customs official, and signaled his assistants to look over the casks, chests, and bales on the pack animals, putting identifying marks on them, and numbers.

For a short while everyone remained silent, then the Guard returned from the second foreigners' inn, a black-clad stranger at his heels. "I have found a man who says he knows Persian."

The newcomer put his left hand into his right and spoke to the senior official. "This humble merchant is Zangi-Ragozh, whose business is in Yang-Chau and is here in Dong-Lin for a day, going from Yang-Chau to Chang'an. What may this respectful foreigner have the honor of doing for you?"

The senior customs official looked Zangi-Ragozh up and down. "Do you speak Persian?"

"Among other languages, yes, I do," said Zangi-Ragozh.

He glanced over at the Persian. "Then explain matters with this man, starting with registering a name."

"It will be my honor," said Zangi-Ragozh, and turned to the Persian, saying in his language, "I am here to serve as translator and interpreter. I am a merchant and a foreigner, like yourself, although my homeland is farther west than yours. I will help you deal with these men." He saw the Persian nod. "To begin, there are a few things the officials must settle before they can assess your merchandise. What is your name?"

"Ahmi Buthatani," he answered, glad to hear someone address him in fluent Persian, and now feeling more assured that he would be treated fairly.

Zangi-Ragozh frowned. "Ahmi is no problem, but Buthatani is."

"Why would it be?"

"You have not come far into China before, have you?" he asked, and not waiting for an answer went on, "In China, away from the borders, foreigners are required to register a name that can be written in Chinese but is plainly not Chinese. Ahmi can easily be written. Your family name is a problem; too long and not easily expressed in Chinese characters. Tsani would be acceptable, I think, if you would not mind using it."

Buthatani looked baffled. "Why should they need this?"

"So that foreigners may be readily identified, and so that everyone may be able to address them properly, which is of great importance in this country," said Zangi-Ragozh. "Would Ahmi-Tsani be acceptable to you?"

"If it is necessary, then do it, just so they are satisfied," said Buthatani, shaking his head in disbelief. "They are very strange here."

"No stranger than we are to them," said Zangi-Ragozh. "Which is saying a great deal."

For the first time Buthatani smiled. "Truly, foreigner."

Zangi-Ragozh turned to the customs official. "This foreigner from Persia will be recorded as Ahmi-Tsani. It is acceptable to him."

"It is acceptable to us," said the senior official. "Bring the scribe," he said to one of his assistants. "We have work to do."

"Is this usual?" Ahmi-Tsani asked Zangi-Ragozh. "I have been to Wu-Wei twice and never had to answer so many questions, nor accommodate the Chinese to this extent."

"Yes, it is usual. Even in Holin-Gol there are stricter rules than in Wu-Wei. I know that along the western border there is less attention given to these requirements, but you are a long way from the Great Wall, and the forms of commerce are very proscribed here." He indicated one of two inns facing the market square. "I and my companions are at the Caravan Bell."

"The customs officials already recommended I send my men to the Inn of the Two Camels," Ahmi-Tsani said.

"Probably because of your beasts; there are better barns and pens at the Inn of the Two Camels than at most inns," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"Find out what he is doing here," the customs official requested.

Zangi-Ragozh complied at once. "What has brought you so far south?"

Ahmi-Tsani tugged at his short beard. "Dreadful weather; this year has been harder than any I can remember. Surely you have heard about it? There is snow falling in the north, far too much for this time of year, and with no letup coming that I can see. The snow is not as it has been in previous years. It is unnatural, yellow in color, and it gives off an unpleasant odor."

"What is he saying?" the senior customs official asked sharply.

Zangi-Ragozh replied at once, "That he has come down from the north because of unseasonable snow that is of a yellow hue."

The officials laughed to show their disbelief. "Snow at this time of year, and yellow," said the senior official. "No one else had made such a report. What nonsense is this?"

"How many merchants have recently arrived from the north ahead of this man?" Zangi-Ragozh asked. "If this Persian is the first, his account is the more important, for it heralds more to come."

"Why do you think so, foreigner?" the customs official asked haughtily.

Understanding just enough of what the official said to be affronted, Ahmi-Tsani demanded of Zangi-Ragozh, "Does he doubt me? Why would I lie? What good would it do me?"

"Do not fret," Zangi-Ragozh advised. "Let me try to explain this to them."

"Very well," said Ahmi-Tsani, mastering his temper with an effort. "But I will not be called a liar, not for anything. You make sure you tell him that."

"I will do my best," Zangi-Ragozh assured the Persian.

"What is he telling you now?" the customs official asked sharply. "More inventions, no doubt. Yellow snow indeed."

"Official Lang," said Zangi-Ragozh, addressing the senior man with an elaborate display of respect, "this Persian has no reason to report falsely, and you have an obligation to keep records of possible hazards to travelers. I believe you would be well-advised to listen to what he has to say and to verify it with others, for if he is telling you the truth, there will be others coming here from the north. You know that spring has been very slow in starting everywhere and that the clouds are more persistent than in most years, and the rain they have brought has made travel slower than usual."

"Thank you; I know my duty," said Lang with great formality.

"And surely you know the importance of serving the orders of the government in these difficult times. So long as regional officials-honorable men like you-attend to their appointed tasks, the country will continue to hold together, no matter what changes may befall the Vermilion Brush." Zangi-Ragozh ducked his head respectfully.

Lang Bao-Jai glared at Zangi-Ragozh but nodded. "What you say is so."

"Is there a difficulty?" Ahmi-Tsani asked uneasily. He had been able to follow some of what was said; it was sufficient to make him anxious.

"Not for you," said Zangi-Ragozh. "I am only reminding Lang of his responsibilities, and of the honor in which his family is held." He looked over at Lang and went on in his most courteous manner, "Danger to travelers is always an intrusion to trade, but it is better that such dangers are known than that they are overlooked, for any laxness can only damage the trade that is the very heart of the Middle Kingdom."

"True enough," said Lang stiffly. He was still somewhat surprised that Zangi-Ragozh was so knowledgeable, but he did his utmost to take this in stride. "Tell the foreigner Ahmi-Tsani that I will hear his report and submit his information to the Magistrate."

Zangi-Ragozh did as he was told and added, "It will be best if you tell all you know as concisely as you can. If you have rumors to pass on, make sure you say they are rumors. You do not want to give Lang any reason to doubt you."

"That is apparent," said Ahmi-Tsani, his sarcasm poorly concealed. He looked over at Lang and said in the best Chinese he could summon up, "I will deem it a sign of esteem to answer all questions put to me."

"Well done," Zangi-Ragozh approved, adding for Lang's benefit, "I know you will make every effort to convey accurate information."

"That I will," said Ahmi-Tsani. "In the meantime, I would be grateful for a moment with my men, to have something to eat and to ease my aching back." He stretched conspicuously to show that he needed a period of recuperation.

Lang nodded, having understood the gist of what Ahmi-Tsani had said. "I will come to the Inn of the Two Camels after the evening rice. We will need to reserve a parlor. You, foreigner," he said to Zangi-Ragozh. "You attend to securing the room, and present yourself for our interview."

"Of course," said Zangi-Ragozh, and said to Ahmi-Tsani in Persian, "You would do well to have a bath and change clothes before Lang comes this evening. Better to be too gracious and accommodating than not gracious and accommodating enough."

"I have every intention of washing the mud from me, and putting on clean garments, for my own comfort. These itch like little demons." He copied Zangi-Ragozh's salutation to Lang and his two underlings, then cocked his head in the direction of the travelers' inns. "Would you care to join me? I would be delighted to have you as my guest."

"Thank you, but no. I have companions of my own who are waiting for me. One of them is convalescing from a bad fever, and he may need attention." Zangi-Ragozh paused, then said, "I appreciate your invitation, and I will come with you long enough to arrange for the parlor Lang wants. Then I must return to my comrades."

"Just so," said Ahmi-Tsani, and lengthened his stride.

Once the arrangements had been made and paid for with the landlord of the Inn of the Two Camels, Zangi-Ragozh went back to the Caravan Bell, where he found Ro-shei doing his best to calm Jong and Yao, who were uneasy about the attention Zangi-Ragozh had received from the customs officials. Gien was in the stables, tending to the horses, tack, and harness.

"What did that tiresome official want?" Yao asked as soon as Zangi-Ragozh entered the main room of the two he had paid for; it was small but it had a little stove for heat and to prepare tea, and there were two benches along with a pair of beds, as well as a long, low table. In the adjoining room were four beds; Jong, Yao, and Gien occupied three of them, and the fourth held three large chests. Oiled paper covered the windows, and there were shutters that could be closed and locked at night. The room was warm enough that Yao had taken off his cloak, but Jong still wore his.

"He needed the help of someone who speaks Persian as well as Chinese," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"Do you think that notice will benefit you?" Yao scoffed. "You don't want the officials looking into your business; no one does, especially on the road, for it always means more delays. Besides, they're sure to find a new tax or duty to impose upon you if you catch their notice."

"Ah, but if I do them a service, their attention may be more favorable," said Zangi-Ragozh, and went on more briskly, "Have you asked for supper yet?"

"I will carry down the order as soon as Jong and Yao have chosen," said Ro-shei.

Jong thought about his answer; since he had begun to recover from his heat-congested lungs, he had regarded Zangi-Ragozh as something of a magician and constantly tried to show his utmost respect. "If you would tell us what you would prefer we eat, then we-"

"Oh, God of Longevity, give me patience!" Yao exclaimed. "Jong, what is this? Our employer has used his foreign tricks on you, and nothing more."

"On that, Yao, you and I are agreed," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"It wasn't trickery," said Jong. "You did not have the Lord of the Dead singing your name, Yao. I did. And what Zangi-Ragozh did brought me back to health."

"Not magically," said Zangi-Ragozh, aware how suspicious Chinese officials could be about foreigners who practiced unknown arts. "I am an alchemist, and that gives me some knowledge of medicaments, that is all."

"Don't alchemists make weapons?" Yao was suddenly curious.

"Some do," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"No wonder the Wen Emperor wishes to see you," Yao exclaimed. "This explains everything. And here I thought you were just pottering among your potions and powders!"

"You're disrespectful," Jong reprimanded him.

Zangi-Ragozh wanted to change the subject. "If you want to serve me a good turn, Jong, say nothing of your treatment or any of my private skills to the customs officials, or any other authority in the town."

"Why should I not?" Jong looked shocked at this suggestion.

"Because the less the officials know of me beyond what goods I carry, the better it will be for all of us," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"Is there anything wrong with what you do?" asked Jong.

"No; but the officials might not see it that way. Why do you ask?" Zangi-Ragozh looked over at Jong. "To whom have you talked?"

Jong shrugged and pressed his hands together. "I told the landlord that you had given me a remedy that ended my illness."

"Praise may be misunderstood," said Zangi-Ragozh, who had seen more than his share of such misunderstandings over the centuries. He dismissed this with a wave of his hand that he hoped showed none of the dismay he felt. "I should bathe, and then I must go to the Inn of the Two Camels to assist Official Lang in questioning Ahmi-Tsani. Ro-shei, when you order the meal for the men, will you reserve the bath-house for me? Take silver to pay for it all."

"That I will," said Ro-shei, holding out his hand for the short string of silver cash Zangi-Ragozh handed to him. He glanced at the two men, his concern routine but unfeigned. "Would braised lamb and onions do for a start? Rice bowls? And a variety of dumplings?"

Yao nodded. "You know what would suit us. Pork of some kind, and the lamb would be nice, and a good, sustaining soup. Nothing fancy, but more than bean-paste in water. Something with a little fire in it, to keep out the cold. The dumplings can be spicy, as well. They make peppery ones in this part of the Middle Kingdom, and they whet the appetite." He laughed at Jong, who regarded him in disgust. "We must eat, Brother Jong. You know that as well as anyone." He nodded to Zangi-Ragozh. "So long as we don't starve, you may keep your customs and dine in private."

"Rice wine and mountain tea," added Jong, as close to an apology as he could manage. "If you have no objection, Worthy Foreigner?"

"Why should I have one now, when I have not had any before?" Zangi-Ragozh asked wryly. "By all means, order what pleases you."

"Then, if there is any minced beef, I'd like that as well," Jong dared to suggest, and saw Zangi-Ragozh signal his consent.

"I'll have it sent up, and the bath-house reserved. I'll let Gien know that supper is coming." Ro-shei nodded once and let himself out of the room.

"These are very good rooms," said Yao as soon as Ro-shei was gone.

"Gracious of you to say so," said Zangi-Ragozh as he went to take out a clean sen-hsien, this one embellished with silver embroidery on the black silk, showing his eclipse as a decorative border at hem and cuffs. "I will wear this after I bathe," he announced.

"It should impress the customs official," said Yao as he hunched over and crossed his arms so that he could rub his shoulders. "Weather like this! It wears on me."

"On all of us," said Jong. He rose and stretched. "I hope to sleep well tonight."

"I hope we all do," said Zangi-Ragozh with an irony that was lost on Jong and Yao. Then he gathered up a small case and left the men alone while he went down to the bath-house.

When he returned, he was carefully groomed, his hair damp and combed into neat waves, his face newly shaved. As Ro-shei helped him dress and shielded him from the curious eyes of Yao, Jong, and Gien, who sat over their rice-bowls eating their supper, he said, "I will probably not be back until late. If you will see to everything in my absence."

"Of course," said Ro-shei.

"I need not have asked." Zangi-Ragozh hesitated, then removed a seal-ring from his wallet and slipped it onto his hand. "As bona fides," he added in Imperial Latin.

"You are uneasy," Ro-shei observed, smoothing the hang of the silk, and speaking the same language.

"Yes. This weather troubles me, and now the report of yellow snow-" He broke off, shaking his head.

"Do you believe the account?" Ro-shei asked, his own skepticism revealed in the tone of his voice.

"Yes," he answered slowly. "I do. It is so unlikely that I cannot think how the Persian would come to invent such a tale."

"Have you ever seen such a thing before?" Ro-shei asked.

"Not yellow snow, but something like it, and so have you," he added. "Do you recall when we were at Lago Comus, when Vesuvius erupted?"

"I recall," said Ro-shei, his mouth set in a severe line.

"There was ash falling from heavy clouds," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"Not yellow snow," said Ro-shei.

"No, not yellow snow," Zangi-Ragozh agreed. "But that was high summer-August-and still, the ash blighted some of the crops."

"And there were unseasonable storms," said Ro-shei. "I take your meaning. But what would be the source? And what would turn the snow yellow? There is no volcano in this region, nor have there been any accounts of one, and no peasants fleeing ruined land. There are no rumors of such an event."

"What are you talking about?" Yao inquired, downing most of a cup of wine.

"Hazards of travel," said Zangi-Ragozh in Chinese. "I hope the Persian can tell me more this evening." He looked over Ro-shei's shoulder. "They're restless," he added, once again in Latin.

"It could be a problem."

"It could," Zangi-Ragozh agreed, and held up his hand. "If I did not feel the lack of sustenance, I would wait, but such opportunities may not come again for several days, and I would prefer not to rely completely upon the horses."

"Then you will try to-"

"-to acquire nourishment," said Zangi-Ragozh quickly. "When I have finished with Official Lang, I will take a turn about the town. Official Lang may have one of his assistants watching me, and I would rather he find out as little as possible about me, so I will avoid women's establishments. I have already drawn too much attention to myself, and Jong's obliging boasts on my behalf will only make things worse if there is an inquiry."

"Do you think there will be?" Ro-shei asked, speaking Chinese again as a knock sounded at the door.

"I trust not, but I would be foolish not to be prepared," Zangi-Ragozh said, also in Chinese, then raised his voice. "Who is it?"

"I bring two more jars of wine," called a voice from outside.

Yao spoke up. "I asked the waiter for them when he brought our food."

Ro-shei went to let the man in. "Put them down and tell me what to pay."

"The price paid for the meal more than covers it," said the waiter. "Your master must be a very prosperous merchant, to be as openhanded as he is."

"He is more than openhanded," Jong said, preparing to launch into a recitation; had he not caught the warning glance from Zangi-Ragozh, he would have said more, but stopped himself in time and pointed to the empty platters and bowls. "Just look how well he feeds us!"

"Shall I remove those?" the waiter asked, cocking his head toward the aftermath of supper.

"As they like," said Zangi-Ragozh, going past the waiter and out of the room. He made his way down two flights of stairs to the main hallway, and along it out into the street, where the business of the day was coming to an end under a cloudy sunset. The Inn of the Two Camels was at the corner, and he walked quickly through the gathering dusk and into the hostelry, going directly to the parlor he had requested earlier that afternoon, noticing the strong odor of sandalwood in the main corridor as he went.

Ahmi-Tsani was there before him, in a sen-gai of curly shearling wool over a clean cotton robe of pale blue with a number of little brass buttons; clearly he intended to make a favorable impression on Official Lang. He rose from his low stool and offered Zangi-Ragozh a greeting in the Persian style, which Zangi-Ragozh returned. "You are good to come, and I thank you most heartily."

"I am glad to be able to assist you," said Zangi-Ragozh, "but it would be wiser to speak Chinese until Lang comes. You do not want it to be reported that those listening could not understand you."

"Oh? You think someone is listening?" Ahmi-Tsani asked.

"I think it very likely," said Zangi-Ragozh.

"But I don't speak Chinese well," Ahmi-Tsani reminded him.

"You speak it well enough for mild pleasantries, and that is all that are needed at present."

"If you think it best," said Ahmi-Tsani, shaking his head slowly. He motioned to one of two chairs drawn up near the fire. "Sit down."

"That I will," said Zangi-Ragozh, and settled back against the cushions. "This is very comfortable."

"Good," said Ahmi-Tsani, and went back to his stool. "When did you arrive here?"

"Shortly before midday."

"Today, then." For a short time, the Persian said nothing more, then asked, "Have you found travel hard?"

"Not precisely hard, but more trying than usual, what with the situation around Chang'an. Not all the fighting is over," said Zangi-Ragozh, considering his answer conscientiously. "And, as you know from your own experience, the weather has been a problem."

Ahmi-Tsani laughed aloud. "One may say that!"

"When did it turn, do you remember?" Zangi-Ragozh asked.

"Oh, over a fortnight ago, certainly. Perhaps three weeks." He folded his hands and looked steadily at Zangi-Ragozh. "You know something."

"I suspect something," Zangi-Ragozh corrected him with a self-deprecating turn of his hands, "and it is strange enough that I doubt my own assumptions, which I have no means to prove, in any case." He thought back to his journey from Yang-Chau and felt a quick, odd tweak of alarm.

"Do you say there was a change in the weather during your travels?" Ahmi-Tsani persisted. "Just as we experienced?"

"About three weeks ago? Yes. It seems that was about the time the clouds came. Shortly after we crossed the Crane River, spring faded."

Ahmi-Tsani frowned. "Three weeks, you say?"

"A few days less, but about that. I recall that after we crossed the river, there was a bad storm, and nothing improved after that." He thought a long moment, then gave a single, small shake of his head. "Well, it is not a thing any of us can change, whatever it is, and whatever its cause." Sitting forward in his seat, he put his mind to the immediate situation. "Let us consider how you are to win the good opinion of Official Lang."

Text of a letter from Professor Min Cho-Zhi at Yang-Chau to Zangi-Ragozh at Chang'an; delivered sixteen months after given to a merchant for delivery and never received.

To the most highly regarded foreign merchant Zangi-Ragozh, Professor Min Cho-Zhi sends his greeting and this report on the state of his property in Yang-Chau, with the assurance that the household continues as the merchant Zangi-Ragozh stipulated it should, and in accordance with the instructions he provided.

Jho Chieh-Jen, the steward, has informed me that the household has used more wood for fires and cooking than was anticipated would be needed. This is due to the lateness of the spring, but it is not cause for alarm, as the supply left was ample and could be used as steadily as it has been for another ten fortnights without impinging on the wood for winter. He also tells me that because of the cold, the trees in the orchard are late coming into bloom. There has been more rain than usual, and it has been less wholesome than in some years, which has caused concern among the men maintaining the orchard and gardens, for they tell Jho that some of the plants are dying, and the trees may not bear much fruit this year.

Sheh Tai-Jia reports that the first foal of the season has been born, but is not doing well, showing little inclination to be active, and preferring to remain at her dam's side; she does not thrive, and although she suckles, she shows little sign of flourishing. Now that two other mares are about to deliver their foals, Sheh is deeply troubled, because he is worried that the new foals may be as afflicted as this first one is. He wishes you to know that he will use all his skill to bring about better health in the foals, but that he fears this year may be a poor year in the stable.

Food in the markets is still quite expensive, for the farmers complain that their spring crops are slow in taking root, and that has meant dragging out the winter vegetables and the pickles for longer than Meng would like. He has drawn his own supply of rice and preserved fruits to improve the meals he serves, and the household remains properly fed, but without the variety of dishes usually available in the spring. Meng has taken to sending two of his assistants directly to the local farmers, to purchase food from them before they take it to market.

In other domestic concerns: I have taken the liberty of ordering repairs on the outer wall, for some of the stockade logs are rotting, their wood becoming porous and weak. If repairs are not undertaken quickly, the trouble will spread, and so I have ordered the work done, in the full conviction that it is what you would do if you were here. I am going to order regular inspections of the wall, just in case a beetle or other pest has got into the wood. If I have the wood inspected regularly, it may be possible to stop the damage before the stable or the house is damaged. If it seems necessary, I will expand the inspections to include the house and stable. Sheh and Jho both agree with this decision and have offered to help in the inspections.

I have received little news of your ships, although I am sent weekly reports by your senior clerk, Hu Bi-Da, providing a log of his activities and the developments at the warehouses and docks. He informs me that the Morning Star is still in port, and that Captain I Mo-Ching is unwilling to put to sea while there are so many reports of storms. Hu reports that nine ships have been confirmed lost in these frightful storms-fortunately none of them yours-and there are rumors of many more, but there is as yet no way to obtain certain news.

This completes the information I wish to convey. May the Gods of Good Fortune watch over you in your travels and bring you safely back to Yang-Chau, and may you prosper in Chang'an. Be certain that in your absence your affairs and property are being looked after honorably. I will report again in three or four fortnights, unless there is good reason to send you word before then.

Min Cho-Zhi, Professor

(his chop)