Sleepy Secrets of the Silk Road | The Falls Bedtime Story Series

and you're ready for some restorative sleep.

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You get the best of night falls and your support makes night falls the best it can be. So thank you. I love learning about history, finding out about how the world worked, connecting the dots to how it works now. At the moment I'm reading about the Indus Valley Civilization, about ancient Indian, its

cultural and economic impact on the world, fascinating thinking about people's lives in the past and although many moons ago, how similar their thoughts and desires were.

It's a bit like time travel I suppose, which brings me on to tonight's story, where

a quiet evening a night falls takes an unexpected turn when a book wonder is reading about the Silk Road, sparks an adventurous idea. Before long, my friends and I find ourselves stepping back onto the path of time and traveling far beyond the lake and woods we know so well. Our journey carries this deep into the ancient world, where we catch glimpses of the people,

places and traditions that once shaped one of history's most famous trade routes. And as the night unfolds, we discover that sometimes the most remarkable journeys, begin with nothing more than a little curiosity, and a willingness to follow it. Before we begin, here's the quick ad break that keeps this free content possible. To go add free, subscribe via the link in the show note.

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on a wide variety of topics, from science to history to mysteries and mythology. Visit Los cities, adventure through outer space, discover the science of our own consciousness, or learn the myths and legends of the world. There's something for all interests, and I present the topics in a thorough, easy to understand and relaxing way.

See why millions have enjoyed learning with Lights Out Library as they settle in for a good night's rest. Just search Lights Out Library in your favorite podcast player. Alright, now back to Nightfalls. The sun lingered a little later by springtime and nightfalls, and it only started setting

when Lyra handed round the cups of tea, we usually took to bed with that.

That evening, from the very first sip, the Valarian route, lavender and lemon balm, in

I felt exhaustion making even my thoughts heavy, but that night, as usual, wonder was able to resist rest's reaching arms.

“Even as she finished her tea and said it down, she evaded the pool of sleep.”

One didn't ever went to bed without finishing off the chapter of whatever book she was in grossed in. From my head settled in the soft sands of nightfall's beach, my eyes drifted closed, and

I bathed beneath the starlight, my mind always drifted back to the day.

My thoughts find their way to the places I love the most, and they traced over the faces I never wanted to forget. I thought of the way the sun rose and sat over the sharp mince and peaks that protected the clearing. I thought about the song the birds sang, and hoped for a reprisal in the morning.

It wasn't the same for wonder.

“When wonder closed her eyes, her mind found its way back between the pages of a book.”

Her thoughts drifted back into the business of her favorite characters, and she ran over

the facts she had harvested from the dryest nonfiction books.

What are you reading? I asked, the campfire crackling beneath my voice, as she opened up the same book for the fifth time that day. It's about the Silk Road, she murmured, unwilling to invite further conversation with pages to get through before bedtime.

What's it called, am I borrowed after you? Devanipir'd over her shoulders. Life on the Silk Road, wonder side as she turned the page and tried to block us out.

You'll have to join the queue, Lira settled the warm hand on wonder's shoulder.

I already asked to borrow it. Wonder traced over a section of the book, as we crowed it around, pouring her attention into the text.

“How long do you think it will take for you to finish it?”

Lira had the nerve to ask. I could tell she was aiming for an easy tone, but Lira often failed to iron all of the impatient sight of her requests. Wonder closed the book with a sigh. It will take as long as it takes.

She rose from her stool, intent on finding somewhere more peaceful to part. If we're also curious about the Silk Road, why don't we take a trip? I suggested. The night is young, Devanipir nodded, but wonder was not in agreement. The night is, in fact, not that young at all, the men are ready out.

She pointed to the crescent moon in the sky, so she was pointing out the answer to an equation on a blackboard. It's a clear day, Lira shrugged it off, the moon has been out since lunchtime. Reluctantly, wonder eyed the entrance to the path of time. Across the lake, thick finds were beginning to creep over its entrance, and I was reminded

of the constant battle, wonder waged with her worries. She said, "We'll go." However much wonder wanted to see the Silk Road for herself, she could get no more comfortable with time travel than she could air travel, or boat travel for that matter. Something in wonder's soul told her to keep her feet firmly rooted on land in the

present. If she was willing to forego those circumstances for even one night, and step out of her comfort zone, it meant the Silk Road was certainly worth seeing. Standing at the entrance to the path of time that night, I could feel night falls magic, drifting on the soft spring breeze, a sense to lingering between the trees.

That evening, something about the magic felt strong, supportive, steady, and perhaps even

a little sleepy.

“When we began down the path, disappearing between tall hairdros, I felt the magic catching”

on my clothes. I heard it said my ear. I sensed it that my shoulder, as we rounded every bend. It sped us on our way, willing us there, willing us back through time to the very beginnings of its all.

We could have walked for hours, or mere moments that night. And lost my bearings, or let go of them somewhere around the fifth bend, trusting that

the path would draw us back to China's Henan Province, where Silk was first created from

the larvae of Silk Moth. That the foot of the path of time was a wooden door. We pushed it open, stupiding to fit through the door frame, and following after my friend. It was early evening in Henan when we found ourselves crowded into the very first silk workshop. According to Chinese legend, Wanda said as soon as she had found her fitting, "Laisu"

or Lady Sheeling, she first discovered silk when the cocoon of a silkworm fell into her tea. She tried to remove the cocoon and ravled, revealing along delicate strand of silk. "It's the story true," I asked. "Of course not," she looked at me as we didn't live in a magical mountain range, steeped

in myth and legend. Raw silk comes from the liquid secretions of silk larvae. When that liquid comes into contact with the air, it solidifies into raw silk, changing state just like the larvae will when they're ready to spread their wings as moths. From the worktop to the floor, the sealing and the beams that supported the roof itself,

the workshop was made entirely of warm, toned wood, and there were more people harvesting silk within its walls than I could kind.

“What would the little larvae need with all that silk?”

Devani asked. The use it to make their cocoons. Wanda pointed toward the delicate, symbol-sized silk shells, being brought to the boil and shallow parts of water to help them unravel. When they were warm enough and steamed drifted in streams towards the sealing, the worker

is carefully unraveled the thread of silk that held the cocoons together. It wasn't until 30 something shells had been opened out that those skilled craftsmen and women began the work of spinning each strand of raw silk into one single, stronger thread of pure silk. I've read about this place.

Wanda drifted through a row of people spinning thread, each wearing brighter silk than the last.

“The wonder did they were wearing their own works of art?”

I wasn't sure if it was nightfall's magic or the way they focused so intently on their work that made sure none of them noticed my friends and I as we drifted by. Almost instinctively, Wanda walked out of that first wooden building and into the wide courtyard beyond. Most outside, making use of the last of the daylight, women sat working behind looms, weaving

the raw silk thread into the finest of silks. The sound of water splashing in the fountain at the center of the courtyard was music to my ears. And the way the late evening light danced on the rippling surface of the fish pond was mesmerizing.

At the weavers never looked up from their work.

They were entirely lost in the process. There was no knowing where the thread ended and the fingertips that wove with it began.

I let go of a breath I hadn't known I was holding onto.

“The way the silk hung on long lines that stretched across the ceiling of the room.”

There was a silk sheet, two shades brighter than the brightest of blues hanging on the far side of the room. And dangling from the rafters just above us, a fine cloth died a deeper, richer red than I had ever known. There were cauldrons all across the room, boiling away, but it seemed that only one woman

was responsible for dying all of the cloth. She was perhaps a little older than Wanda, Devani and I.

Her thick, black hair hung long down her back.

She wore a silk robe, cinched at the waist with a wide belt, and tested the temperature of the water in the cauldrons constantly.

“She was devoted to her work without question.”

She didn't look up once as she meticulously measured out the dyes and submerged freshly woven fabric in the water with a long wooden pole. The dying process is terribly fragile, Wanda explained. The cloth has to be bleached, then died, and then washed. If the water is too cold, the dye won't take, but if it's too hard, the bleach will damage

the silk fibers. It's an impossible balancing act. She certainly seems to be managing, Devani hummed, reaching up to touch one of the soft swathes of fabric that hung from above us.

The woman was ringing out to deep, purple piece of silk, when she finally regarded

us.

“That one isn't dry, she explained, wiping her hands on a cloth tucked into the side of”

her belt. This woman will be better. She pulled a vibrant green cloth from the drying line above her, and as she shook the silk out, it shimmered in the candlelight. She wrapped the silk around Devani shoulders and smiled warmly at her.

Perfect. If Devani thought she would be getting that silk shawl for free, she was mistaken. Take these down to the front gave for me. The woman reached for a heavy pile of silk bolts, and stacked the long rolls of fabric high in Devani's arms, until she could barely see over the top of the pile.

No problem, Devani grown, arms shaking under the weight. I took what I could from the top of the load, and followed one to back out of the workshop into the courtyard. The carving slope of the workshop's roofs reminded me of the temples I'd seen in my travels yesterday.

And the rich reds painted across the exterior to invite prosperity, certainly seemed to have served their purpose, for beyond the gate that were more customer's bartering for the silk than I could count. As we approached the gate, the guard stationed in front of it raised a hand to halt us. He was tallish, broadish, and trying desperately to come across as someone punters ought

not to argue with. His eyes told a different story. He had the ease filled eyes of a young man, for whom standing outside the workshop gates was more of a pastime than a profession he took too seriously. Workshop's like this one had to be protected, one the murmured before I could ask.

Silk was China's main export, and it closely guarded the process that allowed them to make the lavish fabric, so that other countries couldn't profit from making material. The Silk ruled began because merchants could only buy silk at the source from China. How long did they keep a secret for? I asked.

Nearly 3,000 years, one to explain, and my breath left me with a whistle.

high-treason.

“Roman Persia both traded heavily in silk, but thought that the fabric grew on trees.”

It was the only plausible explanation they could think of. One thus knickered. Eventually, through migration, the knowledge spread to Korea and Japan, then India, then the Byzantine Empire, and then many years later, the knowledge phoned its way to Venice, Italy. This way, the guard bayed us follow him out of the heavy iron gates, and as we stepped

beyond them, the hustle and bustle of the hand dynasty was there to greet us. It was the dawn of trade, and vendors in the market down the street were calling our prices that seemed to shift by the second. Every vendor aiming to undercut the other. The wooden wheels on the ox pulled carts, creaked over the dry packed earth beneath my

feet.

“We followed the road leading away from the workshop.”

The faint smell of the mulberry leaves that the silkworms were so partial to, following us all the way.

I had never pictured a caravan of camels scuffing their hooves on the dried earth and

hunan, but on the outskirts of town, I was greeted with the sight of one. This is Varaz, the guard explained. These are soggy and merchant, you'll take the silk from here. Varaz stood at the front of a line of 20 camels, and he looked as though he felt just as out of place as they did, standing in that crowded narrow street.

This is one of the camel caravans that traverses the silk road, one that I said in all, it's bigger than I expected.

“The camel stood in a line, their long nags casting even longer shadows in the late evening”

light, their humps sat high on their backs, and most of them were already carrying other treasures and merchants with them. How far are you travelling? Varaz asked Varaz to some account, he granted, rummaging in one of the bags packed onto his camel's side, we looked to wonder expectantly.

Samarkan does a city in modern day Uzbekistan, she swallowed, turning to the group. I even got time to go to Uzbekistan before bed. It's funny, the vanys brow quarked, and I knew we were in for a world of trouble, because I have precisely the right amount of time to travel by camel to Uzbekistan tonight, can we join you.

She asked for as brightly.

New pairs of hands are always helpful.

He nodded, pleased to have found what he was looking for in the saddle bag. Varaz paid for the silk with the contents of a wolf and pouch, and the guard promptly took his leave, walking back to the workshop gates to carefully guard China's best-capped secret. Where are you from?

Varaz turned his attention to us. Scotland, I supplied. I wouldn't be travelling that far. The merchant laughed, brushing a hand over his dark beard, but I can drop you off in the city, and you'll be able to arrange passage home from there.

Varaz helped each of us up on to a camel. Wonder when last, swearing that she would much rather have stayed home, and simply read about this part of the journey. The magic will see us back tonight falls soon enough, devani-leveled with her, and Lyra had to agree.

The magic really has never steered as wrong.

Dust kicked up from the ground and a cloud, as wonders camel came to stand beneath her. Though it took her a moment to settle into it, as the caravan made its way into the countryside, she seemed rather at peace with the circumstances. On the road, carts led by oxen passed us occasionally, but if the drivers were surprised

Further out of town, rice grew in patties on either side of our path.

“When the stars finally came out, the wetland reflected the cosmos above, and it felt almost”

as though we were weeding, by camel, through the stars themselves. The air was heavy and humid, and I couldn't pinpoint precisely when, but my eyes must have drifted closed on their own accord. Having like sleep settled in my bones, and I let myself drift through time on the back of that camel, for as up ahead, in my friends and my back.

When my eyes fluttered open once more, a realized nightfall's magic had made sure we were

far from the rice patties.

For as was still leading the charge, but it was less of a charge, and more of a slow stroll along the Silk Road.

“The Silk bolts were belted down beneath the grass, and behind me, Devani, Wanda, and Lyra”

were still snoring softly. Devani was slumped over her camel's hump, and when I turned and caught the creature's eye, it could have sworn he was trying to tell me that she had been sleeping just like that for hours. The cheek of it, a wink to the camel, wondering if, like auto and eye, we might come to

share some kind of understanding. We were far from the reach of civilization, but I couldn't have said where, and had to ask for as. That evening was so quiet that the merchant didn't even have to raise his voice, to let me

“know we were approaching the tarman basin.”

It was our evening again when the path opened out before my eyes. It was warm and humid, but still the peaks of the sharp mountains that rose up around us were snow-tibbed. Water gathered in a wide lake in the bowl of the valley, and as the sun set over it, the oasis glittered the gold.

Up ahead of us the desert awaited, and I wondered just how beautiful the tarim basin appeared to the travelers who had already passed through the desert on their way back to China. Perhaps in the haze of their exhaustion, they would look upon that oasis, glittering gold with the sunset, and consider it treasure itself, like could gold worth more than anything they would ever be able to trade.

Are we stopping? Lyra looked over at the small settlement on the farthest edge of the lake, not here. Varaz called back to her, the silk is precious, and last time I stopped here, it invited the wrong sort of attention. We pushed on, drifting in and out to sleep as the sun rose and set over and over again.

The tackle Mac and Desert sits in the heart of the tarim basin, a new from my own reading that it was once one of the most fearsome stretches of the silk road.

Patients never crossed through the centre of it, to do so would be near impossible.

Instead, they will vign the note of the dunes that it's edges, to find the oasis that would help them make passage safely across the arid expanse. The new nightfall's magic was at work, because the sun was setting again when we finally cut a path along the side of the desert. We traveled between mountains that pitched into the golden sky and the shifting sands

of tackling Macon. The rivers that ran off the mountains would flow into the natural oasis that would sustain the caravan for a journey. I checked behind me to find that wonder had already allowed herself to sink into sleep again, and perhaps that was wise.

Up ahead there were more than 600 miles of sloping sandy dunes for us to cross.

that other merchants had left behind them on their journey.

“Since the day drifted away from us, and the sands cooled beneath the hooves of my camel,”

I found it was almost impossible to keep track of which direction we ought to be travelling. Thankfully, whereas at something of a six-cent, even with the night changing shape around us, we could find true West and point us on our way. He asked me, but he didn't wait for an answer. It means go in and you won't come out.

He laughed into the night. I've been in and out more than 15 times now, so no need to worry. He sighed, surveying the dunes as the darkness deepened.

I got the sense that the desert was something of a second home to verse.

“The hours reeled by, the dunes became but layers of darkness, stacking behind one another,”

as far as my eyes could make out. The night stretched its legs, languid and rich and layered and endless. When I could fight the need for sleep no longer, my eyes drifted closed, and the sands of sleep swept me away with them. When my eyes opened again, we had left the desert in our wake, and wonder who would slap

through most of that stretch of travel, seemed more than pleased about it. It was dusk again when we made our way into the city of Samarcan, and I got the distinct feeling that we had jumped forward in time whilst we were sleeping. The buildings that pitched up out of the desert were doubtless influenced by the Persian and

“Islamic merchants who had made their way through the city, over the centuries.”

Intricate tiling climbed almost every structure we passed, painting the city in rich blues and greens that glittered in the last of the daylight. Whereas drew the caravan to a stop, just outside the city centre, and helped each of us down from our camels. I was surprised to see wonder, patting the nose of the camel she had been riding.

Devani let out a long, lazy yon, and I looped my arm through livers, it was more our last sleep on her feet. The razz tipped his head to us before taking a few bolts of silk from the back of his camel, and tucking them under his arm. He wondered deeper into the city's streets, and we followed him lazily in the direction

of the market.

We went just far enough that we saw him make his first trade before our attention turned

entirely to sleep. For as will sell them on the silk road, wonder explained, marking up the pricey paid for it. Then the new owners will take the fabric on the next part of its journey. This time towards Europe.

Shully tried to join them, Devani prodded, absolutely not, wonder wouldn't be swayed again. I'm going to bed, and you should too. There's a caravan cerai over there, and I intend to pick a room. She couldn't fight the yon that broke free from her. She made a bee line for what looked like the ancient equivalent of an inn.

The city was bustling, but we were lucky to find that there was room for us all to rest our heads at the inn that night. The silk road had proven more stunning than anything I'd ever seen. It was vast and desolate, and somehow still entirely dreamy. But that night, his divani settled in that my side, and I blew out the candle on the bedside

table.

I was rather glad the endless evening that it's seen as traverse the first half of the

I stopped battling to keep my eyes open, and with the long breath in, and out.

“I let sleep sweep me away with it, dilowed myself to dream of fine patterns in the master”

craftsmen that wolfed them into silk, of all the places I'd seen on our journey, and

all the places the next part of the silk road might reveal to me.

“We'll leave our story there for tonight, I hope you enjoyed our journey on the silk road.”

Sleep well, and sweet dreams.

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