Free The Kite Fighters by Linda Sue Park

the line could indeed be a great advantage. But not next year. Next year everyone will be doing it." He grinned. "Can you imagine next year's competition? How exciting it will be!"
    So it was decided. Young-sup would fly the King's dragon kite, made by Kee-sup, on a pottery-coated sky-blue line.

Chapter Thirteen

    It was the last day of the New Year celebration—the day of the kite festival. Kee-sup and Young-sup walked the road to the royal park together. Their uncle's family had departed the day before, and their father had sent word from his room that he would join them later.
    Since the day of the confrontation with Kee-sup, their father had not spoken of the kite festival. Both boys knew that it was not because of his normal reserve. Behind his silence lay great disapproval.
    But the brothers were determined not to think about that now. Kee-sup carried the King's kite, attached with the sky-blue line to Young-sup's reel. The day before, the line had been carefully prepared. Part of it had been coated with the special mixture of rice-paste glue and powdered pottery. Then Kee-sup had tied the line, using the usual four-leg bridle, so that the coated section was attached near the kite itself.

    Young-sup carried two small "wishing" kites, his own and Kee-sup's. The wishing kites would be used as part of the kite festival.
    What crowds there were as the boys approached the park! Gaily decorated stalls along the road sold food, drink, kites, and toys. Everyone was in high spirits; friends called out to one another and boasted of their kites and their flying skills.
    Fearful for the King's kite, Kee-sup sometimes had to raise it straight over his head to keep it from being damaged in the crush. At last they reached the great open space in the center of the park where the festival would be held.
    As they walked about in search of a place to sit down and rest, Young-sup realized his brother had just spoken to him. He looked up, embarrassed. "Sorry, brother, I didn't hear you. I've been counting my steps—by nines."
    Kee-sup grinned. "I've been counting every nine people we pass." The brothers laughed, no longer alone in their anxiety.
    In the center of the open space two large circles
had already been marked on the ground. At the far end of the field a long, low platform had been built, and a silk tent erected on it. This was the temporary throne room from which the King would observe the day's festivities.

    For the moment the throne stood empty, but as the brothers drank tea and rested from their long walk, a soldier mounted the platform and struck a mighty blow on the brass gong that stood at one end.
    Immediately the crowd of thousands stopped whatever they were doing—talking, eating, drinking, flying—and dropped to their knees. After a second gong a splendid procession entered the park: a host of scarlet-clad soldiers, followed by the royal palanquin and then many more soldiers. Once the palanquin had passed by, a subject was allowed to rise to his feet, so a great wave of movement rippled through the crowd as the people rose, several dozen at a time.
    The King mounted the platform to address the crowd. As usual at such large gatherings, there were soldiers stationed throughout the park to serve as "shouters." The first of them stood quite near the platform, where he could hear the King easily. He would call out, repeating the King's words to the crowd surrounding him and to the next shouter, who
was standing farther away. Each shouter would repeat the King's words until even the far reaches of the crowd had heard them.

    "My people! I greet you on this fifteenth day of the New Year. May our ancestors bless our land and our people in the year to come, with good fortune for all!"
    As the King paused to let the shouters do their work, his words echoed through the great park. Young-sup looked around at all the solemn, attentive faces and felt a secret pleasure at the thought of having the King as a