“He must have had exceptional talent to be so trusted by the Aluhan, but he appears to have been rather loose with women. It took them several years to build the village, and during that time he got the wife of one of the Stewards pregnant. That must have gotten him into trouble. Once the work reached a certain point, he left and never came back.”
“And the child that was born was—”
“That’s right. The chief’s ancestor.”
Elin rubbed her cold hands absently. Was he a Toga mi Lyo? It seemed very likely that a Toga mi Lyo, and one who was not an Ahlyo, had come to this country to raise Toda as weapons. If so …
Suddenly, Yohalu grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her behind his back. “Who’s there?” he barked, his voice splitting the darkness. “Step out into the open!”
A figure appeared from behind the stable. A man. With a sword hanging from his belt. It was too dark to see his face clearly. He walked slowly toward them, then brought his heels together and bowed.
With his hand still on the hilt of his dagger, Yohalu snapped, “Who are you?”
In a muffled voice, the man replied, “Captain Aoolu.”
Yohalu scowled. “Captain Aoolu? You were supposed to report to me as soon as you finished your patrol. Why’re you so late?”
“I came but you were in the middle of your meal,” the man said sullenly.
Yohalu waited for him to say more, but he remained silent. “So?” Yohalu demanded. “You’re saying you didn’t want to bother us?”
The man nodded.
“What were you doing over there?”
The man shrugged. “I was waiting for you to finish,” he said.
Yohalu glared at him. “Without a light, behind the stables?”
The man shrugged again. “This village is like my own backyard,” he said, his voice flat. “I can see well enough by the light of the stars.”
Yohalu scowled, but then sighed as though to dispel his irritation. Removing his hand from his hilt, he said, “How long have you been posted here?”
“Ten years.”
“I see,” he said, his voice still tinged with annoyance. “Did anyone pass through the gate before us this afternoon?”
“No. No one.”
Yohalu gave him a piercing look. “But someone must have, because one of the Toda clearly went into whistle shock.”
Although his face was only a blur in the darkness, Elin could tell that the man’s expression didn’t change. “There’s one Toda that often goes into convulsions,” he answered in a low voice. “He’s been at the gate a long time. It was probably him.”
Yohalu finally nodded. “All right. That’s all I wanted to know. Thank you. You may leave now.”
The man bowed and shuffled off, vanishing into the darkness.
“There’re many like him among the soldiers who serve in remote regions like this. He must have some skill as a Rider to have been given the post of captain. But if he’s been here ten years already, he likely made a mistake, or did something wrong, and was posted here to redeem his honor.”
Ten years. To redeem his honor … Elin sighed inwardly. To be separated from one’s family and forced to live in this isolated village for so long. No wonder he behaved like that.
A bird called somewhere: a long, thin whistle that crossed the darkness, then melted away.
3
AN ARROW SPLITS THE DARK
The old man pointed his cane toward the entrance to the caves that spread out deep within the mountain. “Welcome to the oldest Toda complex in the country,” he said with evident pride. “Please come in.” Stooped with age, he tottered forward on unsteady feet.
The chief hastily grasped his elbow. “Father, please, allow me to walk beside you.” But the old man brushed his hand away irritably.
Yohalu broke into a smile. “Master Kamalu, how old are you now?”
Kamalu turned and gave him an almost toothless grin. “I’ll be eighty-eight this year!” he said. “Not bad, huh? But enough chatter. Follow me.” He set off, and the chief hurried after, casting Yohalu and Elin an exasperated look as he held the lantern high.
The Stone Chambers were naturally formed caves. The only places that showed the trace of human hand were the channels that led out of the caves. It was damp inside, and water dripped from the ceiling. Distracted by the surroundings, Elin slipped and almost fell.
“Whoops!” Yohalu reached out and steadied her.
Elin blushed. “I’m so sorry. Thank you.”
Yohalu chuckled. “I expect these Chambers are different from the ones you’re used to.”
“Yes. I was just realizing what a lot of work must have gone into the ones I know. The floors are smooth, wall torches keep down the damp, and smoke holes clear the air.”
As they moved deeper inside, the moist smell of moss and the scent of Toda grew stronger. Elin sensed movement and heard the muffled sound of voices. The Stewards must be tending the Toda, she thought.
“Here we are,” announced Kamalu from up ahead. “This is the Kiba Pond.” As Elin stepped inside the Chamber, a raw stench assailed her nostrils. With a fish in each hand, a middle-aged Steward stood gaping at them, then ducked his head in a bashful greeting. At his feet was a basket full of fish.
“It’s all right, Kolu. Carry on,” Kamalu said. The man nodded and began throwing fish into the dark pool one by one. They arced through the air and fell out across the water. The first had barely touched the surface before a large head reared up and swallowed it whole with a great spray of water. Three other Toda rose, mouths opened to expose sharp fangs. They pushed against one another as they vied for the fish.
Elin frowned. They’re so small. They were at least a whole size smaller than the Kiba she knew. And if these were the Kiba, then the other Toda would be even smaller. Yet their movements were swift and powerful.
“The Kiba of Oohan are known for their small size and agility,” Yohalu said. “So much so that it’s the custom to use them for scouting missions and night raids.” The other men beamed with pride.
“Do you only feed them fish?” Elin asked.
Kamalu scowled. “Of course. I’ve heard that the villages built after us feed their Toda goats, but in the end, that’ll make them sick. Toda were originally fish eaters, you see.”
The chief cleared his throat and cocked an eyebrow at Elin. “Wild Toda do eat animals sometimes, but ordinarily, they eat fish. So that’s what we’ve always fed the ones we raise here.”
“What about tokujisui?”
“Of course we give them tokujisui. We give the Kiba plenty.”
With the chief’s permission, Elin put her face close to a tub of it in a corner of the cave and sniffed. It smelled just like the solution she was used to. She asked the men many questions, which they answered willingly, but the only difference between the Toda of Oohan and those in the other villages seemed to be their diet of fish.
When she expressed the wish to check the Kiba’s sex, Kamalu’s eyes almost popped out of his head. The men’s respect for Yohalu, however, was deep, and when Elin slipped into the cold pool and began examining the paralyzed Toda, the chief and Kolu jumped in to help. The Kiba were all male.
“I guess that means the problem must be their diet,” Yohalu said as they exited the caves, squinting in the light.
Elin, her purple lips quivering, shook her head. “Possibly, but I have a feeling that it’s something else. The fact that they only eat fish could cause physical differences, but even so, it still leaves an unsolved riddle.”
“Oh?” Yohalu said. The two other men also paused to stare at Elin.
“It was egg-binding that killed the Kiba in Tokala village. In other words, they died because they were female. But in this village, there has never been a mass die-off of all the Kiba. I can think of only two possible reasons. The first is that Kiba females that eat fish don’t suffer from egg-binding. But I think we can rule that possibility out.”
The chief raised his eyeb
rows. “Why?”
“Because even though you don’t check their sex, if any Kiba had been female and remained healthy after maturation, there should’ve been reports of them laying unfertilized eggs. Yet neither you nor Kamalu mentioned anything about that.”
“You’re right,” Kamalu said. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“And the second possibility?” Yohalu urged.
“That there have never been any female Kiba here. But the probability of that happening for over two centuries seems incredibly low. Especially when the method for choosing Kiba is exactly the same as that in the other villages.”
Yohalu and the chief both frowned. “I see,” Yohalu muttered, stroking his chin. “Then what’s the difference between this village and the others?”
“From what these people told me, there seems to be absolutely no difference at all,” Elin said. “However, it may be something so slight that it would normally go unnoticed. Or it could be related to the location. Where they’re born and the natural features of the place in which they’re raised can have a big impact on the bodies of living creatures.” The three men listened intently. “There may be some natural mechanism in Oohan that prevents people from choosing eggs containing females, even though they aren’t consciously aware of it.”
Kamalu nodded. “Have you ever been egg gathering?” he asked.
“No. Never.”
“Then you should get them to take you. It’s always best to try things for yourself. When you see with your own eyes and hear with your own ears, things look different. It’s egg-laying season, and although it’s still a little early for gathering, you might learn something just by seeing where the nests are.”
Elin’s face shone. “Yes, please. That would be wonderful!”
At this, the chief spoke up. “In that case, I’ll take you.” He paused, then added, “But there’s one thing you should know. Egg gathering can be dangerous. Toda get very excitable once they’ve laid their eggs, so we only go after the temperature drops and they’re sluggish. That means going to the river when it’s pretty dark, either at evenfall or dawn. If you miss your footing, you could slip into the river and drown.” His face clouded.
Catching sight of his expression, Yohalu murmured, “That’s how he died, wasn’t it?”
The chief nodded. “He was always so careful, too. He went off with two others to collect eggs, but he was the only one who never returned. They heard him cry out once and then a splash. After that, nothing.”
He glanced at Elin and sighed. “We’re talking about my younger brother. He was a Toga mi Loh. You met my granddaughter yesterday, right? He was also her grandfather, on her mother’s side. He was a cautious man, but kind, and a very good Steward.”
Kamalu cleared his throat. “Let’s not speak of it. Talking won’t change anything.”
The chief gave his head a quick shake as though to dispel his gloomy thoughts, then set off toward the village, his clothes still dripping with water. Elin was about to start after him when she felt as if she was being watched. Turning, she saw a group of soldiers talking near the trees beside the entrance to the caves. Among them, one figure stood looking her way, his face surly.
That’s the man from yesterday.
She hadn’t been able to see his face clearly in the dark, but from his build and behavior, she guessed it must be Captain Aoolu. Under his thick eyebrows, his narrow eyes were trained on Elin and her companions.
* * *
Kamalu predicted that there would be heavy mist the next morning, so they decided to look for eggs that very evening. The chief had insisted that he would take them, but Kolu, the Steward who had fed the Kiba, offered to go instead. The chief had already spent a long time in the icy waters of the Pond, Kolu said, and another cold soak in the river might aggravate his sore hip. Although the chief protested that his hip didn’t bother him at all, he appeared grateful and agreed to let Kolu be their guide.
Yohalu and Elin followed Kolu through the last light of day toward the river. By the time they began descending the narrow trail that led off from the big saya tree, the sun was slipping behind the trees, and the breeze had turned chilly.
“This is the river where you catch fish, isn’t it?” Elin said, eyeing the ruts left by cart wheels.
Kolu nodded. “Yes. The children catch them in the morning and bring them to the village.”
The sound of rushing water grew louder, and the river came into view. It was a fast-flowing stream that sprang from the top of the mountain. Elin guessed that the rock in this area was quite solid because the river snaked along the contour of the land. In a large bend, the water slowed and pooled into a deep pot-shaped well, then overflowed and cascaded down in multiple steps. Mist drifted above the water, and the dry reeds surrounding the edge of the pool rattled each time the water pushed against them.
“This way,” Kolu whispered, beckoning them with his hand. He stood on a spot slightly away from the rushing river where water lapped over the bank, making the ground muddy. Thick reeds, taller than a man, grew there. A sickly sweet scent filled the air, and the hairs on Elin’s skin stood on end. If they were attacked by wild Toda, Silent Whistles would be useless.
Toda raised by men had their ear flaps cut off while they were still young, but not wild Toda. Even if she managed to stop the first one with her whistle, the rest would plug their ears and keep on coming. Still, she and Yohalu held their Silent Whistles at the ready as they made their way toward Kolu.
“This is the time when Toda are the most docile,” Kolu said. “See?” Peering toward the shadowy reeds where he pointed, Elin saw the tip of a tail. “When they’re like that,” he explained, “they won’t budge even if they hear noise or smell humans.”
He pointed to another spot. In the dying light, Elin saw a mounded shape. A Toda nest. She glimpsed what looked like several eggs nestled in the pile of reeds and grasses. It was damp with water that overflowed from the pool.
“Are those the kind of eggs you gather?” Elin whispered, and Kolu nodded. “For Kiba, too?”
Kolu started to nod, then shrugged. “This isn’t a year for choosing Kiba, but if it were, we wouldn’t use eggs from that nest.”
Elin blinked. “Why?”
Kolu gave a wry smile. “It may sound superstitious, but we have a saying that eggs from the upper basin don’t grow as well.”
“Basin?”
Kolu pointed toward the stream. Elin realized he must be referring to the pot-shaped pools at each step of the waterfall. The one at the top level was small and shaded by thick branches. Although water pooled where the river plunged into it, it quickly overflowed, cascading down to the pool below.
“We call pools like that at the base of each waterfall ‘basins.’ All the eggs taken from the same one are raised in the same Pond. But that nest is too close to the upper basin, so in years when we collect Kiba eggs, we take them from nests a little farther down.” He stopped and pointed to a spot deep within a patch of reeds. This pool was much larger, and the water looked darker and more sluggish. Where the water flowed out of it onto the shore, Elin saw a hump of wilted reeds. “We would choose a nest like that one.”
Elin stared at the nest for some time, then she crouched down, pushed aside the reeds, and stepped into the swampy water along the shore.
“Elin?” Yohalu said in a startled voice, but she didn’t stop. She pushed her way slowly toward the first nest he had pointed to and slipped her arm inside it to feel the water and the eggs. Then she turned and carefully climbed down to where the second nest was, once again feeling inside.
It’s warm!
The water inside this nest was warmer than that in the first one. There were no branches above this pool. During the day it would be exposed to the sun, which would heat the water. The nest was built with packed mud mixed with Toda saliva and slime and covered with withered grass and reeds. Soaked in water, the vegetation may have begun to ferment, which would also generate warmth. The nest on
the upper level, however, would be constantly filled with cold water, which would suppress heat.
She brought her face closer to the nest to get a better look, when suddenly she heard the twang of a string. Startled, she turned and saw Yohalu stagger. An arrow protruded from his back.
“Yohalu!” she cried.
“Run!” he shouted hoarsely.
Far from fleeing, however, Elin ran toward him. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kolu pushing through the reeds as he escaped. When she reached the spot where Yohalu knelt concealed among the reeds, the sun had completely set, and his figure was only a vague blur. She probed the arrow gently, checking its position in relation to his shoulder and chest. Trembling, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“It missed your vital organs,” she whispered, and Yohalu nodded. Like her, he was trembling. Although he must have been in great pain, he clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. Raising a finger to his lips, he peered into the darkness.
Elin heard a rustle of movement near the forest and then voices. The intonation seemed strange, and she couldn’t understand the words they said.
A foreign language?
Someone clicked their tongue. It sounded surprisingly close. “Over here!” a man barked impatiently. “Hurry! He’s been hit. Find him!” Elin’s eyes widened. Captain Aoolu!
She heard the sounds of several men moving this way, speaking in some foreign tongue.
“Lazy brutes!” Aoolu muttered. “How many times do I have to tell them to speak our language?” Then he yelled out, “Don’t kill the woman. She’s worth far more than any Steward you might catch.” He said something more but she couldn’t hear it.
The dusk deepened. Although she could see no one, she could tell by the noise that the men were pushing through the reeds toward them. If she and Yohalu stayed here, they would be captured. But if they moved, they would give themselves away.
She heard the faint sound of metal and guessed that Yohalu had unsheathed his dagger. Terror caught in her throat, strangling her. Her mind raced.
The Beast Warrior Page 10
