“When a kingdom prospers, its population increases, and it needs more wealth to support its people. For this reason, we must protect the source of that wealth. We can’t afford to lose the caravan cities, which means we have to continue this unending fight with the Lahza who covet them.”
Closing her eyes, she clenched her pearl-white teeth and gave her head a little shake. “The moment I utter the command to increase our forces and lead them to war, I am no longer the Yojeh,” she said in a strangled voice. “Unable to bring this war to a halt, I’m just an ordinary ruler like any other.”
She opened her eyes. They were filled with tears. “Yet I have decided to make a Royal Beast corps.” Her expression turned fierce. “Elin,” she said.
“Yes.”
“What do you think we should do to end this war with Lahza?”
Elin gazed at Seimiya. “I do not understand politics,” she said, “but is there no way to negotiate for terms that both sides can accept?”
Seimiya’s expression softened. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “That would be the best way. But, Elin, we can’t simply resolve our differences by extending our hand to the other. The Lahza have attacked us for years. If they believe they can win and gain more wealth, they’ll never give up. The only time such a country will even consider sitting down to negotiate is when they realize they have no chance of winning; that to keep on fighting would be a waste of resources.”
A cool serenity suffused her face. “If the Lahza already have their own Toda army, they’ll be eager to fight because they believe they have a much greater chance of winning. The whole country will be urging its leaders to strike soon. If we reach out and try to make peace, they’ll merely assume we’re desperate to make a deal because we’ve lost the advantage.”
A bitter smile touched Seimiya’s lips. “Unless we can show them that their possession of a Toda army makes no difference because we have something even more powerful, they’ll never agree to negotiate. Or if they did, it would be as a victor making excessive demands out of contempt for the loser.”
She looked at Elin, a sad resignation in her eyes. “If we want to negotiate an end to war, then we need the unsurpassed power of the Royal Beasts.”
A wind rustled through the leaves on the trees and brushed Elin’s cheek just as a cloud covered the sun, hiding its light.
Seimiya sighed, and her shoulders relaxed. The expression on her face seemed a little calmer. “Still, I wonder why Alu hasn’t borne any young yet.”
“I wonder, too. Alu and Kalu were raised just like Leelan without tokujisui or the Silent Whistle. The only difference is that Leelan was born in the wild, while her young were born in the sanctuary.”
Seimiya’s eyes brightened. “But that’s it, Elin! You see! There is a way to increase their number. If we bring wild male and female cubs to Kazalumu, we could build up a corps in just four or five years.”
Her face shone like that of an excited little girl. Elin regarded her silently. Noticing her expression, Seimiya’s face clouded. “Is there some reason we can’t?”
Elin nodded. “Wild Royal Beasts bear few offspring, so it would be hard to get enough. And there is another concern.”
“What’s that?”
“When I rode Leelan and subdued the Toda troops, didn’t something about that strike you as strange?”
“Strange? Why?”
“I didn’t notice at first, either, but later I realized it was quite odd. You said the tale I told you was branded on your memory. In that tale, the battle between two thousand Royal Beasts and tens of thousands of Toda wiped out not just the entire Toda army but the Royal Beasts and their Riders as well.”
Seimiya’s nose wrinkled, as if at a foul odor, but Elin ignored this and pressed on. “It was because I actually flew Leelan against the Toda troops that I began to wonder about the story.”
At this, Seimiya’s expression changed. “Wonder about what?”
“Leelan showed no trace of fear or hesitation when she swooped down on the Toda, despite the number gathered there. And she slaughtered dozens of them in a matter of minutes. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have killed a hundred.”
Seimiya nodded as she listened.
“I was raised in a Toda village. From a very early age, I saw how much training goes into preparing Toda as steeds for battle. But Leelan, who had no military training whatsoever, destroyed those well-trained Toda with ease. If two thousand trained Royal Beasts flew to battle, then even if they were met by tens of thousands of Toda troops, the Toda wouldn’t have stood a chance. It should have been an overwhelming victory for the Royal Beasts, not a disaster that wiped out both sides.”
Lips slightly parted, Seimiya looked taken aback. “You’re right,” she said hoarsely. “I suppose their Riders might have been picked off by archers, but even so, the Royal Beasts would still have had the advantage because they were attacking from above. It’s much easier to hit your target when shooting downward than when aiming at the sky.”
“Yes. The Toda Riders shot many arrows at me and Leelan, but Leelan’s body repelled them. None of them hit me. I was shot while on the ground helping Shunan to climb onto Leelan’s back.”
Seimiya bowed her head and nodded. Elin guessed she was remembering the events of that day.
“Even when Leelan was right among the Toda, attacking them,” Elin continued, “the Toda were milling about in confusion or rolling over onto their backs, so the Toda Riders had little chance to shoot. And that was just one Beast against several thousand Toda. If two thousand Royal Beasts descended, then—”
Seimiya raised her face and leaned slowly back against the chair. “Then the tale might not be true,” she whispered. A fierce longing crossed her face.
“It may not be true,” Elin said. “Or there may be something that we haven’t been told.”
Seimiya’s eyes narrowed. “Something we haven’t been told. Yes, you’re right. That’s a possibility, too. After all, many centuries have passed.”
Watching her expression, Elin asked hesitantly, “My Lady, do you know who the lord of Amasulu’s ancestors were?”
Seimiya blinked. “The lord of Amasulu? You mean Yohalu Amasulu? What about them?”
So she doesn’t know, Elin thought. It was just as the previous Yojeh, Halumiya, had told her many years ago. The fire set by the Sai Gamulu had completely severed the Yojeh’s link with the past. Spurred on by hatred, Yohalu’s great-grandfather had exacted a fitting revenge. But in the process, something infinitely precious had been lost.
Elin’s knees ached. She rose and sat in the chair. The sun was already tilting in the sky, dyeing the plain wooden walls a warm amber. Taking a short breath, Elin said, “Like mine, Yohalu Amasulu’s ancestors had green eyes.”
Seimiya’s eyebrows rose. “They did?”
“Yes. When Hajan attacked Lyoza, the Yojeh of that time sent a message to the Toga mi Lyo, the Green-Eyed Ones who lived in a valley in the Afon Noah, and asked them for help.”
Seimiya’s eyes widened. “I had no idea. And you’re saying they were Yohalu’s ancestors?”
“Yes. According to the legend, the Toga mi Lyo were skilled in raising and training the Toda for war. Your ancestor Jeh, on the other hand, was a Royal Beast handler. She would not have known as much as the Toga mi Lyo about training Toda.”
“So at the time of Yaman Hasalu, Jeh’s descendant summoned the Toga mi Lyo to teach him,” Seimiya whispered. She pressed her fingers to her temples. “But weren’t the Toga mi Lyo and Jeh bitter enemies? I thought it was against the Toga mi Lyo that she fought that disastrous battle.”
Elin nodded. “I was shocked when Yohalu told me this story, too. But when I thought about it, a Toda army could never have been developed in this land without the Toga mi Lyo’s aid.”
Seimiya heaved a sigh. “Incredible. The things you say always throw me into confusion.” She shook her head slowly. “If only we could peek into the past and see what really happened.�
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Elin’s pulse beat faster. They had reached the critical point. But would Seimiya understand? Elin took a deep breath. “I wish we could, too,” she said quietly. “Your Majesty, why do you think the Yojeh in Yaman Hasalu’s time did not arm this country with the Royal Beasts, which she could control? Why did she choose instead to write to the Jeh’s enemies and introduce their weapon, the Toda, to protect this land?”
Seimiya’s mouth crooked in a bitter smile. “To preserve the purity of her reign by foisting the defilement of war onto the Aluhan and the Toda.”
“Yes, I also suspect that was an important reason. But what if it was not the only one? What if there was some reason why the Royal Beasts shouldn’t be used as weapons?”
Elin lowered her gaze, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “What could have happened on that battlefield so long ago? How on earth could two thousand Royal Beasts have been destroyed while attacking Toda?”
She gripped her wrist with her hand. “Your Majesty,” she said, forcing out the words. “I’m afraid. There is still so much I don’t know. What if that tale is true? What if flying two thousand Royal Beasts to war caused some unforeseen disaster? If I breed and train a fighting corps before finding out, I’ll end up repeating the same mistake the Royal Ancestor Jeh made, a mistake that can never be undone.”
A hush fell over the garden. Elin could hear the birds flitting among the branches above.
Seimiya gazed at the hedge, a faint crease between her brows. “You think that we’re standing on the brink? Just as we were at that time?”
“Yes,” Elin said hoarsely. “If we take one step further, we might plunge ourselves into a catastrophe that could reduce this land to ashes.”
She rested her hands on her knees. “Lady Seimiya, would you give me a little more time?”
Seimiya drew her gaze from the hedge and fastened it on Elin. “Time? To think?”
Elin shook her head. “No. To find out the truth about what happened in the past.”
Seimiya’s eyes widened. “Is there really a way you can do that?”
Elin nodded and told her about the references to the Kalenta Loh in the diaries of her mother and Yohalu’s ancestor.
“If the Kalenta Loh still live somewhere in the Afon Noah, and if I can find them, I believe they can help us solve the riddle of what happened in the past. And answer such questions as why Jeh’s enemies, the Toga mi Lyo, later agreed to help, why Royal Beasts shouldn’t be bred by man, and why those born in the sanctuary don’t mate.”
Seimiya frowned, looking perplexed. “Do you intend to go to the Afon Noah to find out?”
Looking her straight in the eyes, Elin nodded. Seimiya smiled and shook her head. “But that’s like grasping at clouds.”
“I think I can find their valley,” Elin said quietly. “When I read the diary of the Kalenta Loh, it described several places that sounded familiar.”
Seimiya’s smile faded, and she stared at Elin.
“I was raised by a beekeeper,” Elin explained. “We used to move from one place to the next, following the flowers in the mountains very close to the Afon Noah. If I trace the places written in the diary and search for valleys with the right topography for Royal Beasts, I should be able to find it.”
“Are you serious?” Seimiya said, her voice faint. “You would attempt such a journey?”
Elin nodded. “Perhaps this seems like an unnecessary detour, especially when we may be threatened by invasion. Still, I don’t think it will be a waste. If time is of the essence, then please begin gathering wild cubs at the sanctuary. That can be done even if I am not there. But”—she looked straight at Seimiya—“if my investigation makes it clear that we should not use the Royal Beasts as weapons, please revoke your command.”
Seimiya stared at her incredulously. “But the Afon Noah are steep and rugged. Do you intend to travel alone? What about your husband and your son? If you fail to return, you’ll never see them again. Would you really go despite that?”
Elin’s face twisted. “Yes. Because this is our only hope.”
“What do you mean?”
“Making an irreversible mistake is not my only fear.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she struggled to keep her voice steady. “If I obey your command and develop a Royal Beast corps, my family and I will spend the rest of our lives under guard. The same is true for anyone else I might train to control the Beasts. This is our only hope for avoiding such a fate.”
Seimiya cocked her head, watching the tears roll down Elin’s cheeks. “You are so strong,” she murmured.
But Elin shook her head. “A cornered mouse is neither strong nor weak.”
Seimiya frowned, repeating Elin’s words to herself. A bitter smile touched her lips. “You’re right. It is neither strong nor weak to search for the best path under the circumstances you find yourself.” She stared at the dusk creeping across the sky. Then, as if to shift her mood, she sighed and returned her gaze to Elin. “I can’t believe that traveling to the Afon Noah is a sane choice. And I don’t think you can possibly succeed. Are you telling me to gamble and risk losing you, even though you’re irreplaceable?”
Elin didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat was so swollen with tears that her voice found no way out. She bowed her head and let the tears stream down her cheeks.
The sun had set, and a cool breeze touched her face. Watchfires had been lit at each corner of the hedge, and the flames wavered in the evening breeze. After a long silence, Seimiya said, “Tonight the Sick Ones will come.”
Elin frowned, wondering what she meant. The Sick Ones were people who came to the palace, robed in white, to pray for healing on behalf of the many ailing people in the country and to touch the hands of the Yojeh and receive her healing power.
“Elin,” Seimiya murmured. “Stay here a while. And when the Sick Ones leave, go with them.” In the darkness, her face floated like a white mask.
FIVE
A NEW ROAD
1
ELIN’S WHEREABOUTS
A blast of hot, humid air bearing the aroma of deep-fried food enveloped Jesse and Ialu as they turned into the alleyway. Jesse’s stomach growled. He blushed and looked up at his father, wondering if he’d heard. His father, however, strode on without even a glance.
In the early afternoon sun, wisps of cooking smoke drifted on the air. Stalls jammed both sides of the narrow street. Drenched in sweat, merchants fried chunks of meat or sautéed vegetables and chicken on large griddles while calling out their wares to passersby. Here and there, Jesse saw restaurants, each marked by a large lantern hanging out front. But when he peered through the open doors, there were no customers in the dimly lit interiors, just tables and chairs. Maybe the restaurants got crowded in the evening, he thought.
Jesse had been overwhelmed by the size of the capital when they arrived the night before. It had seemed so prim and proper, like a pompous official. But this part of town reminded him of the alleyways in his neighborhood back home.
A boy about his own age was turning a chicken on a spit. Fat dripped from the crisply browned skin and flared on the coals below. Mmm, that looks good. Jesse turned to ask his father if he could have some, only to see him duck beneath a large lantern and disappear inside a restaurant. Jesse scurried after him. Although it was lunch time, there was not a customer in sight. An elderly woman sat shucking peas in the corner. She rose reluctantly when she saw them.
“I came to meet someone,” Ialu said. The woman nodded and pointed toward a reed curtain in the back. There appeared to be a private room behind it. Jesse’s father’s gaze shifted toward the kitchen. Jesse followed it, wondering what he was looking at, but there was just an open door with people passing in the lane beyond.
Hearing a rustling noise, Jesse turned and saw his father part the curtain and step into the other room. There was the scrape of a chair as someone stood up. Hurrying into the room, Jesse saw a large man with a broad smile on his face. “Hey there!” the man said, giving I
alu a thump on the shoulder. “You haven’t changed a bit. I thought you’d look a little older.”
Ialu was grinning, too. Jesse’s eyes grew round. He’d never seen his father grin like that before. It made him look young.
Wordlessly, his father wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulders in a hug, then stepped back. “Sorry to contact you out of the blue,” he said.
The man waved a hand. “No need to get all stuffy now.” He poked his head around Ialu and cocked an eyebrow at Jesse. “You must be Jesse. You sure have grown!”
Perplexed, Jesse glanced up at his father, who placed a hand on his head and smiled. “This is Kailu, an old friend,” Ialu said. “Don’t forget your manners. He held you when you were just a baby.”
Jesse bowed his head dutifully, wondering how he was supposed to remember if he’d only been a baby.
“How old are you now?” Kailu asked.
“Eight.”
At this, Kailu’s brows rose again. “Eight! It’s been that long has it? Time sure flies.” As if it were an afterthought, he added, “You look a lot like your mother.” His expression sobered, and he glanced at Ialu as he gestured for them to sit down.
Kailu must have arrived sometime before them, because the table was already laden with dishes. “We can talk while we eat,” he said. “I know this place well. No one can hear us from outside, so you can speak freely. Jesse, grab those side plates from the corner over there, would you?”
On a small table in the corner, Jesse found little plates as well as seasonings. He thought for a moment, then picked up six plates and placed two in front of each person.
“Oh-ho! That was good thinking,” Kailu exclaimed.
“I thought it might be better to have two each, you see, because some of these dishes are spicy and others are sweet,” Jesse explained, his cheeks flushed. “They’ll taste nicer if the flavors are kept separate.”
The Beast Warrior Page 21
