The Firekeeper's Son by Linda Sue Park
"We live in an important village," Sang hee's father said.
Sang hee looked around. A few huts made of wood and mud. A few cows. A few chickens, a few dogs. It did not look like an important village.
"Our part of Korea is like a dragon with many humps." his father said. "The humps are the mountains- the first hump facing the sea, the last hump facing the king's palace. Our mountain is the first hump. Our fire is the first fire."
Every evening at sunset Sang hee's father climbed to the top of the mountain carrying a pair of tongs and a little brass pot filled with live coals. Coals to start a fire. A fire so big it could be seen from the next moutain. Where another firekeeper saw it and lit his fire. A fire big enough to be seen from the next mountain.
Where a third firekeeper saw it. And lit his fire. And on and on. A fire on every hump of the dragon's back, all the way to the last one - the hump that could be seen from the palace walls.
When the kings saw the fire on the last mountain, he knew that all was well in the land.
"When trouble comes to our land, it almost always comes from the sea," Sang-hee's father explained. "If ever we see enemy ships, I will not light our fire. And the next firekeeps will not light his fire. And on and one until the king sees only darkness on the last hump. He will know that trouble has come to our land, and he will send soldiers to fight the enemy.
"We are fortunate," Sang-hee's father said. "In your time, and my time, and your grandfather's time, the fire has always been lit."
"It is good to live in a time of peace. It is good that soldiers have never come," |