Ho Han had also learnt the dialect used in the ports. Ho Yen was yet to pick up on the local parlance. He had no interest either and brooded all the time, perhaps because he had become a slave at an older age. At this moment, too, he was following Ho Han gloomily. Their master used to send them to villages to collect chickens once in a while, without any supervision. He knew they wouldn’t try to run away.

This vast country was a hard place to live in. There was no certainty that they would find a better life if they escaped. They might fall into the hands of another slave trader. Where would they find work in this thickly populated land?

Ho Han had accepted this life as his fate. He had neither frustrations nor any grievances. He did not dream of liberty. His experience had given him the maturity to understand the reality of his situation. That he could live safely and eat every day in a country ravaged by war, floods, drought and famine was enough for him. What would he achieve by running away? Besides, what skills did he have to survive all by himself, except rearing and slaughtering chickens and pigs? He had the aptitude to learn new things. Whatever the task, he did it sincerely. He had picked up woodwork while helping a carpenter in his master’s house. But he did not think that was enough to sustain a living as an independent man.

‘Let us drop in at the marketplace,’ he said, looking back at Ho Yen.

Ho Yen did not answer. They took the turn leading to the market. It was peak hour at the market. In one corner, a man was narrating tales in exchange for money. Ho Han didn’t stop to listen. Another spot was occupied by a fortune teller. Passing him by, Ho Han stopped at a place where chickens were being sold and started picking out the good ones. Just at that moment they heard a noise.

A rich man dressed in silk was buying expensive merchandise at random without even haggling. He was accompanied by two healthy slaves wearing bright clothes. The people nearby started looking at him curiously. Someone asked him, ‘Where have you come from?’

It was as though the buyer was waiting for just that question.

‘I belong to this place. My village is just four or five villages away. But now I don’t live there. In fact, I now live very far away.’

‘Where exactly do you live, then?’

‘Prince of Wales Island.’

‘And where is that? How far is it from our village?’

‘Not from your village. Ask me how far it is from our country. Prince of Wales Island is not in China. One has to go there by ship. I live there in a place called George Town. In the beginning, I used to work at a tin mine. Now I have my own business and my own ship.’