Elin cocked her head. “Then why is she here? It seems so far from her home.”
“She’s an old friend of my father’s. A very good friend. It’s her custom to come here every year in late fall to spend the winter. Because she has asthma. Imeelu’s too dry in winter, which makes her condition worse.” Rolan smiled briefly. “But maybe that’s just an excuse. Perhaps she wants to spend the winter with Father.”
I see, Elin thought. With a pair like Kuriu and Yohalu, that was certainly a possibility. She smiled suddenly and gave a slight sigh.
Rolan cast her a quizzical look. “What?”
Elin shook her head. “I was just thinking how small my world is.”
“Small?”
“Yes. At this very moment, people like Kuriu are living in distant lands, yet I’d never even stopped to think about it. But here, you’re so closely connected to other countries that I suppose it’s quite normal to be broad-minded.”
Rolan smiled. “Indeed, it is. Amasulu is very small, but it’s an important intersection.”
“Intersection?”
“A place where many people come together.” A grim look displaced Rolan’s smile. “But there are far too few gathering points like this in Lyoza.” Seeing Elin’s gaze, he shrugged lightly. “Here’s your room. My apologies for keeping you up so late. I just hope that I didn’t tire you out.”
Elin shook her head. “It was a wonderful evening. Thank you.”
As she entered the room, Rolan kept his hand on the door. “My father wishes to speak with you,” he said quietly. “May I take you to his room tomorrow evening?”
Elin inclined her head. Although her heart grew heavy just thinking of what Yohalu would ask when they met, there was no escape.
Rolan’s expression relaxed. “Good. Please rest well.”
7
YOHALU’S SECRET
The next day dawned cloudy, and by evening, rain was pelting down. Perhaps because of the weather, or maybe simply because she was not fully recovered, Elin felt heavy and listless all day and spent much of her time napping. After the evening meal, however, her strength returned. By the time Rolan came to fetch her, she had dressed and steeled herself as best she could for her meeting with Yohalu.
Rolan led her slowly along a dimly lit, high-ceilinged corridor until they came to a large oak door. He stopped and called out, “Father, I have brought Lady Elin.”
Through the thick wood, they heard the muffled sound of Yohalu bidding her to enter. Rolan pushed down on the handle and opened the door. He ushered Elin inside and then left.
The moment she stepped inside, Elin’s eyes were drawn to a large bookcase. Sturdily built, it was jammed with books.
“Elin.”
At the sound of her name, she recollected where she was with a start and blushed. “I beg your pardon. You have such an impressive book collection that I couldn’t help myself.”
Yohalu smiled. “How like you to notice my books before anything else.”
Elin walked over to the large armchair in which Yohalu was sitting. He sat on the edge leaning forward rather than resting against the back.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot, and the wound wasn’t that deep. How about you? Your ear will be scarred, I’m afraid.”
Seeing the concern in his face, Elin smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “But I’ll be fine. The scar might even give me a little prestige and make cheeky students pay more attention when I glare at them.”
Yohalu laughed. “I see. I forgot you were a teacher of unruly rascals.”
“Yes. Although I can’t show them the mark of the arrow on my back, the one on my ear will be in plain sight. Besides, I’ve been scarred by Leelan already. I can add this to my collection.”
Her face grew sober. “What happened to the Toda that carried us?”
“Ah. It was given a feast of fish and taken to the Amasulu where it was set free. The poor thing suffered a lot to save us. Toda raised by the Stewards can swim for a night and a day with two men on their back. But not wild Toda. Now that I’ve ridden one, I realize how useless they’d be in battle.”
He paused with his eyes fixed on Elin. “You can control wild Toda, can’t you?” he said finally.
Elin gazed back at him wordlessly. From the moment she had used the finger whistle, she had known that he would ask this question. Even now, in a forest somewhere, warned by their ancestors’ souls animating the Spirit Beast, the Ahlyo would be lamenting that Elin had committed an irreversible sin. But she’d had no choice. If she hadn’t used the finger whistle, Yohalu would have been killed, and she herself abducted.
For the last two days, as she had lain in bed, a thought had taken shape in her mind—she could not choose death to guard the secret of the Toda. She could not do what her mother had done, even if revealing what she knew should lead to multiplying and strengthening the Toda forces.
She could understand why the Ahlyo wanted to prevent another catastrophe. But the way they sought to achieve that goal seemed wrong. She wasn’t sure why it was wrong, but she couldn’t bring herself to tread the same path. Maybe it was because the Law of the Ahlyo had driven her mother to her death. Yet she sensed it was more than that. Something told her that it was wrong to conceal knowledge, even to avert disaster.
And if that’s how I feel …
She must choose the path that felt right, even if it meant groping her way along.
“It was a gamble,” Elin said finally.
Yohalu’s eyebrows shot up. “A gamble?”
“Yes. To be quite honest, I wasn’t at all sure those wild Toda would respond. The tune was the same one my mother blew for me. To save me from the Toda…”
Her voice shook, and she paused for a moment to steady her breath. “The sound of my mother’s finger flute, which she played just before she died, has been seared on my memory ever since. I often try playing it when no one is around. But the finger flute is difficult. At first, I couldn’t reproduce the notes I remembered. With practice, I gradually learned how.”
Yohalu blinked. “You mean it’s one of the Ahlyo’s secret skills?”
With her eyes fixed on his, Elin nodded. “I think so. Because before she blew it, my mother told me that I should never do what she was going to do, because it was a mortal sin.”
Silence enveloped the room. Finally, Yohalu rose, steadying his shoulder with one hand. A strong light gleamed in his eyes. “I thank you from the depths of my heart for using that finger flute to save my life,” he said. “Please accept my deepest apologies for placing your life in danger. I offered myself as your bodyguard but instead I have caused you great pain. Forgive me.” He bowed deeply.
“Please raise your head,” Elin said hastily. “There was no way you could’ve known that man would attack us.”
Standing erect, Yohalu shook his head. “It’s true I never expected Aoolu to attack us. However…” He paused and gestured with his eyes toward a chair beside the bookcase. He waited for Elin to sit before lowering himself into his own chair. “I knew that your life was in danger.”
Yohalu’s study was located deep inside the building. The bustle of the soldiers rushing along the large corridor didn’t penetrate this far. The only sound was the occasional scraping of branches against the windows when the breeze ruffled the trees. In that silence, Elin frowned slightly, staring at Yohalu.
Yohalu pressed his right hand against his left shoulder, then coughed slightly. Picking up a flask on the side table, he poured himself some water and took a sip, then placed the cup down with a small click. “I knew that someone was planning to attack you. Not Aoolu, but the Sai Gamulu.”
Elin’s mind went numb. “The Sai Gamulu?” she blurted out. “They want to kill me? But why on earth?”
The Sai Gamulu, which literally meant “blood and filth,” was a secret society. Its members blamed the Yojeh for the cracks in the kingdom’s system. For generations, they had
sought to assassinate her and make the Aluhan the sole ruler of the country. Bound by strict rules, they swore themselves to silence, never revealing their identity as members even when faced with death. Not even the Aluhan knew who they were. After Shunan married Seimiya, however, rumors of such plots had faded away. The Sai Gamulu’s wish that the Aluhan rule the kingdom had been fulfilled, and Elin had assumed they no longer had any reason to assassinate the Yojeh.
“For the Sai Gamulu,” Yohalu said in a low voice, “you are the one piece in this game that could overturn all the others on the board.”
The candle flame wavered, sending Yohalu’s shadow dancing across the wall. “Although more than a decade has passed since Lord Shunan married the Yojeh, this country remains in a state of confusion, like an ant nest that’s been stepped on. Nobles, soldiers, and commoners alike are bewildered, not knowing to whom they should turn for guidance—the Aluhan or the Yojeh.”
“But—”
Yohalu raised a finger, cutting off Elin’s protest. “Yes, it’s true Lord Shunan and Lady Seimiya have joined hands to rule this nation. But we want to know whose will it is that governs our affairs. Which one moves this country, the Aluhan or the Yojeh? If this were obvious, we could follow wholeheartedly. But for some reason, the answer remains unclear.”
Yohalu sighed. “Her Highness, the Yojeh, is the cause. For the last few years, she’s rarely shown herself, and that makes those who see her as this country’s soul unbearably anxious. They worry she conceals herself from shame, that she believes her union with the Aluhan has defiled her and caused disease to spread.
“For those of us who revere the Aluhan as our lord, on the other hand, her attitude’s exasperating. She ought to be supporting the wise decisions of Lord Shunan and guiding her people in a beneficial direction, but instead, she’s torn by indecision. That’s destabilizing political affairs in this country, which outrages quite a few people. She’s supposed to be the Yojeh, they say. They can’t help but wonder what on earth she’s thinking!”
Anger flared in his eyes. He fixed them on the candle beside him and took a deep breath, then shifted his gaze back to Elin. “It’s terrifying not to know what Lady Seimiya is thinking. What if she’s regretting her decision to marry the Aluhan or prefers the old way of doing things, with the Yojeh ruling alone by divine right? That would tear our people apart. Even though she married the Aluhan, the majority still revere her as a god. If she should decide to dissolve her marriage and stand as the sole ruler of this country—”
“But that’s ridiculous!” Elin shook her head. “That could never happen. Even if she wanted to, it’s impossible.” A chill ran up her spine as she said this. Suddenly, she saw why the Sai Gamulu had chosen her as their target.
She said no more, and Yohalu nodded. “You’re an intelligent woman. I’m sure you can see that you’re the one piece that would allow the Yojeh to fulfill such a wish. The vision of you and that mighty Royal Beast, symbol of the noble Yojeh, scattering the Toda army is branded on all our memories. If, at her bidding, you should arise to fly the Royal Beasts—”
Elin shook her head violently. Seeing her expression, Yohalu grimaced. “I know. You’d never do that. Nor would Lady Seimiya ask it of you. But as long as you live, that possibility will never vanish from our minds. Nor, I suspect, from hers.
“That’s why the Sai Gamulu decided to kill you. Without you, Lady Seimiya has no card left to play. They wish to make it crystal clear that she has no hope.”
Elin stared at him, robbed of speech. His brow furrowed slightly. “But I didn’t want you to be killed.”
Elin frowned. “Why?”
He stared at her calmly, not answering. The expression in his eyes made her uneasy. “When I heard that all the Kiba in Tokala village had died,” he said finally, “I saw it as an opportunity—an excuse to place you under my protection. Fortunately, Lord Shunan was interested. He probably thought my proposal to disguise myself as your bodyguard was just a whim, sparked by an old man’s desire to retire and leave things in the hands of his son-in-law. He smiled indulgently when he gave me permission.”
Elin wrinkled her forehead. “You mean you didn’t accompany me at the behest of the Aluhan? It was your idea?”
Yohalu nodded. “Yes. Lord Shunan doesn’t know that you’ve been targeted by the Sai Gamulu. I used the investigation of the Kiba as an excuse to get his consent for me to guard you.”
Elin’s heart pounded sickeningly in her chest. Grasping her knees with icy fingers, she said unsteadily, “But how? How could you know that the Sai Gamulu wished to kill me when the Aluhan did not?”
Yohalu kept his eyes fixed on hers. “I know what the Sai Gamulu plan before they act. Because the man who started it was my great-grandfather.”
The silence that covered the room hurt Elin’s ears. The faint sputtering of the candles sounded disturbingly loud.
Yohalu rubbed a hand over his face. He looked drained. “Yes, it was my great-grandfather who formed the Sai Gamulu. For a time, I ran it, too. But one day, I realized that such means could never bring peace to this country. I relinquished my role as the leader to a friend. A few called me a traitor and insisted that I should be terminated, but most said nothing and let me go.”
The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “They trust me, you see. While they were annoyed that I chose a different path, they didn’t try to kill me. Besides, they value the blood that runs in my veins. That’s why I believed you’d be safe with me.”
He rose abruptly, then winced and moved slowly toward the bookshelves, being careful of his wound. He pulled a thin chain with an old key on it from his neck. Bending low, he inserted the key into a hole in a drawer at the bottom. There was a small click. Yohalu returned the key to his robe, pulled open the drawer, and reached inside. With the utmost care, he took out a bundle wrapped in deep blue brocade and placed it on the large desk, gesturing for Elin to come and see. When she drew near, he unfolded the cloth to reveal a thin book wrapped in oiled paper.
It appeared quite ancient, and the spine and cover were falling apart. Gently, Yohalu opened it to expose the inside cover. The paper was yellowed and chewed by insects. “I keep bug repellent with it and air the drawer well, too, but even so, it’s impossible to protect something this old from getting damaged. I was planning to transcribe it when I retired. At this rate, though, it may fall apart before I get a chance.”
But Elin barely heard him. He glanced at her chalk-white face and murmured, “I thought so. You can read this, can’t you?”
Staring at the inside cover, Elin forgot to breathe. The words were written in mirror writing, although the script seemed a bit different from her mother’s. She could only read the title without a mirror because part of it was already branded on her memory.
The Diary of the Kalenta Loh
8
ORIGINS
Yohalu leaned forward and grasped Elin’s wrist. “Please. Tell me. What does it say?”
His voice was quiet, but a fierce light burned in his eyes, and his hand felt hot where it touched Elin’s skin. She didn’t try to shake off his grip. “Do you have a mirror?” she asked calmly.
He blinked, then released her. “A mirror?”
“Yes. Or something that reflects like a mirror?”
Yohalu thought for a moment, then went to the desk and pulled a hand mirror from a drawer. He gave this to Elin, and she placed it so that it reflected the book’s title. Yohalu drew in a sharp breath. Squinting, he ran his eyes over the letters. “Ka … len,” he muttered. “I can’t read the next one. Is the one after that ‘loh’?”
“Yes. Kalenta Loh. It’s an ancient script. I think it means ‘the people who remain.’”
Still staring at the letters in the mirror, Yohalu rubbed a hand across his brow. “So that’s it! It was meant to be read with a mirror.” He slumped into his chair, resting his forehead on his palm.
“Yes. It’s written in a very loose hand,” Elin said. “And because the
book is so ancient, it’s natural to assume the script is some foreign language.”
Yohalu nodded, speechless.
“When I was a child,” Elin murmured, looking at the words reflected in the mirror, “my mother used to write every night after dinner, once she’d cleaned up. I liked to wrap myself around her shoulders and watch. She taught me how to read and write like this. It seemed like magic, and I was dying to show my friends. But Mother wouldn’t let me. She told me it was a secret, just between the two of us.”
She raised her face and looked at Yohalu. Her pulse was beating painfully fast. “Why do you have this book?”
Slowly, Yohalu raised his head. His gaze met hers. “It’s the diary of my ancestor seven generations before me. Or at least, that’s what I was told. It contains secrets passed down to the firstborn son and direct heir of the ruler of Amasulu. That ancestor was said to have had green eyes.”
Elin caught her breath and stared at him.
“Do you remember the story I told you when we were in Oohan?” Yohalu asked. “About the man who built the first Toda village, the one who was clever but loose with women?”
Elin nodded. “That man,” Yohalu continued, “was the grandson of the author of this diary and the grandfather of my great-grandfather. There aren’t many tales of him left in my family. The stories passed down by the villagers of Oohan may paint a more accurate picture. They say he died young, before my great-grandfather was born.
“My great-grandfather was strong and vigorous. He must have been about eighty-five when he died. I was only eight, and I remember him as having a loud voice and a hot temper. Sometimes he’d explode with anger, and at those times, he was terrifying. But I’ve heard he was also very intelligent.” He paused to take a sip of water.
“Was he the one who started the Sai Gamulu?” Elin asked.
“Yes. And the reason is closely linked to this book.” Yohalu gestured to the diary with his chin. “My great-great-grandfather learned many things from his father, the founder of Oohan village, including how to read this book. But he wasn’t able to pass on that knowledge to his son, my great-grandfather.”
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