A Long and Speaking Silence, the seventh in Nghi Vo‘s Singing Hills cycle, takes Cleric Chih back to one of their first assignments as a chronicler, a gatherer of stories. On their way to the riverside city of Luntien a moment of inattention led to their being relieved of their purse and stipend, so as the story begins they are spending most of their time waiting tables in a restaurant. Dropped dishes, forgotten orders and a feeling of being underfoot both in the kitchen and among the other servers have them not feeling great about themselves or their job. The spring festival is coming soon, and more people are arriving in Lutien each day, so pressure at the restaurant is rising. All of that keeps Chih away from what they think of as their real task, collecting stories from people in the city that they can take back to the archives at the abbey in the Singing Hills.
Vo’s story has a tight focus, in both time and space. She keeps Chih in the center of everything, and the whole novella takes place in the week leading up to the spring festival. It’s not quite Aristotelian unity, but it’s close enough to move the novella along quickly and for the locations to become familiar. There is the restaurant, the family that runs it, and a couple of other fellow staff members. Then while collecting some data about river heights, Chih becomes involved in an incident where refugees on boats headed upriver overcome the harbormaster’s guards and head for a temple that is obligated to take in refugees. They are grateful for Chih’s assistance, though representatives of the city are less keen. Chih learns that there is war among the islands to the south of Lutien, and although the city is the tenth harbor up the river from the sea, still people come. Officially, Lutien welcomes the unfortunate, but in practice many would prefer to send the island people further inland, especially with festival visitors temporarily swelling the local population.









