Yohalu had formed a special band of Stewards, most of whom were young with keen intelligence and flexibility, and put them in charge of learning how to breed Toda. The greatest challenge they had faced was determining how much hakujisui to give them. Although it was a much weaker version of tokujisui, the potion that had been used to raise Kiba, too high a dose would prevent the Toda from reaching reproductive maturity. But if they were given too little, they wouldn’t grow strong enough for battle.
It was Chimulu who had found a solution. Instead of controlling just the amount administered, he had hit upon the idea of experimenting with timing as well. He tried giving them as little as possible while they were still growing, and then increasing the amount after their first reproductive phase had passed. Through trial and error, they had succeeded in breeding Toda that could withstand the rigors of war.
The Toda produced in this way were clearly different from those raised the traditional way. Their scales were lighter in color, they had bigger bones and fangs, and they were a little larger in overall size. The greatest difference, however, was their disposition, a fact that became evident during training. The Toda were quick to understand their Riders’ commands, almost as if they understood words, and followed those commands exactly.
The Toda’s unerring obedience made Ialu shiver uneasily whenever he rode them. If such a dramatic change could occur in just one generation, what kind of Toda would be born in two or three generations? He was acutely conscious that the rules governing their care had been designed to prevent such Toda from being bred at all.
When they began training the new Toda, Yohalu had appointed Ialu second in command of the troop. From the time Ialu had asked to become a Rider, Yohalu had openly supported him and helped him to carve a place for himself in the Aluhan’s army. Thanks in part to this, Ialu had secured a footing among the Riders and risen in rank to become a member of the Blue Armor, which was second only to the Black Armor.
Ialu guessed that Yohalu supported him for a variety of reasons, but he believed it was mainly because he was Elin’s husband. He was one of the few people Yohalu could talk with openly about such things as the Toga mi Lyo, the Yojeh’s ancestry, the secrets of the Royal Beasts, and Yohalu’s relation to the Sai Gamulu.
One night as they talked after supper, Yohalu compared Lyoza to a butterfly. The Yojeh and the Aluhan were its two wings, he explained, while Yohalu, Ialu, and Elin formed the base of those wings. It was their job to consider what was needed for the two wings to remain strong and for the country to move forward.
As he listened, Ialu couldn’t help thinking how dangerous it was to entrust the kingdom’s rule to a select few who kept the secrets of the Yojeh and the Aluhan, the Royal Beasts and the Toda, to themselves. Such a system was far too skewed and precarious.
Long ago, when Ialu had worked in the narrow confines of the Yojeh’s palace, he had been forced to see everything through a single lens: his duty to guard the life of the Yojeh. He knew from personal experience how perilous such a one-sided perspective could be. Yet he still held the warrior Yohalu in the highest esteem. It was not only that he felt comfortable with the man because he was a warrior. He was deeply impressed by Yohalu’s magnanimity in accepting and trying to understand a former Se Zan who had once killed many Sai Gamulu. He was also touched by Yohalu’s admiration for Elin.
* * *
“That wound will take a few days to heal,” Yohalu said, his eyes on the bandage around Ialu’s shoulder. “This is a good opportunity. I’ll give you ten days off.”
Ialu raised his eyebrows. “It’s not that serious.”
Yohalu regarded him steadily. “Take a holiday. Go back to Kazalumu and see your family.”
Speechless, Ialu stared at him. He heard the footsteps of booted Riders in the corridor, and their voices, talking and laughing. The sounds had receded before he finally spoke. “Are the others being sent home, too?”
“I’m giving everyone who will be sent to the front lines a holiday. But finding reasons to send them home can be difficult.”
I see, Ialu thought. So the time is coming. Yohalu must have gotten some news. Clearly, he was expecting something different from the small skirmishes they had experienced so far. The Toda Riders were being sent home to see their families before they died a cruel death. But if Yohalu sent them off all at once, they would guess why, and rumors of imminent war would quickly spread.
Which means, Ialu thought, that the situation is still fluid. Yohalu isn’t sure if it will come to war yet or not. If rumors that they were preparing for war reached the Lahza, it could tip the balance. That’s why Yohalu was looking for excuses to send the men home.
“Autumn comes early to the plateau of Kazalumu,” said Yohalu, watching Ialu’s eyes as though curious to see his reaction. “The Royal Beasts will look striking against the golden fall leaves.”
3
FATHER AND SON
The carriage rolled slowly to a stop, and a guard moved swiftly to open the door. Ialu thanked him as he stepped down. A cool wind that smelled of autumn sunshine stroked his skin. Not all the leaves had changed color yet. There was still some green left on the trees in the forest hedging the pasture. On such a fine day, the inside of the carriage had been hot and stuffy. Once outside, however, the sun felt pleasant, and the sweat on Ialu’s skin dried quickly.
Ialu thanked the driver and asked him to come back in three days. Turning, he saluted the guard who stood stiffly at attention.
“We had word that you were injured, sir! All is well here, so please rest easy!” Although he spoke crisply and respectfully, the young man could not conceal his curiosity. He must be new to the job, Ialu thought. He was staring at Ialu’s face as if thinking, ‘So that’s him.’ Perhaps he was intrigued by the fact that Ialu had switched from being a Se Zan to being a Toda Rider of the Blue Armor. Or perhaps by the fact that he was Elin’s husband. Smiling inwardly, Ialu thanked him for his work and walked toward the school’s entrance.
Muffled sounds typical of classes in session spilled from the building. Ialu scanned a group of students clustered near a goat enclosure in a corner of the pasture to see if Jesse was among them, but they looked a bit older. Their teacher gestured for them to crouch down and look under a goat’s belly as he explained something. A few of the children were distracted by a cloud of dragonflies, but the rest listened intently, their eyes fixed on the teacher’s hands. One day, those children would return home as beast doctors.
As he watched them, Ialu suddenly realized how different his own childhood had been. These children, even the ones watching the dragonflies, were living the present as a means of getting to the future. They could imagine their lives stretching out before them into the distance like one long road.
When he was their age, he had deliberately avoided thinking of the future. He had kept himself from painting a picture of the life ahead so that death, when it inevitably took him, wouldn’t hurt as much; so that he would feel no pain when he terminated someone else’s future. He had tried to focus only on the moment, nothing more. In those days, his life had been hard and solitary, like a succession of dots. The lives of these children, however, were a connected line. With a final glance at the clear autumn light playing softly in their hair, he passed on toward the school and stepped into the shadowed entranceway.
Inside, the long corridor echoed with the indistinct voices of teachers that seeped through the thin walls of the classrooms on either side. Ialu proceeded to Esalu’s office and knocked on the door. Esalu called out from within. As he entered, she looked up from a book on her desk, and her eyes widened. “Well, well,” she said. Laying her reading glasses on the desk, she pushed back her chair and stood up.
“It’s been a long time,” Ialu said with a bow. “I’m on leave because I was wounded. I just got back now.”
Esalu eyed the bandage wrapped around his shoulder. “Yes, the news reached us this morning. But we didn’t expect you until tomorrow. You traveled fast.”
She gestured for him to sit by the fire. “How’s your injury?”
“It’s just a graze. Nothing serious. It was really just an excuse to give me a holiday.”
Esalu lifted the earthenware pot that puffed with steam. “Elin’s at the training ground, so have some tea here first.”
Ialu sat by the fire while Esalu poured him some tea. “Actually, I’m glad you came just now,” she said. “There’s something I want to consult you about, although I’m sorry to pounce on you like this when you’ve just arrived. I was actually going to send for Elin, but I think it’s better to tell you.”
She paused, then said, “It’s about Jesse, you see.”
As he took the cup from her, Ialu frowned slightly. “Did Jesse do something wrong?”
Esalu took a sip of her tea and sighed. “He got into a bad fight. I’ve shut him up in the storage room without his lunch to make him reflect on his behavior.” She blew on her tea between sips to cool it down. “I believe it’s really the other boy who’s to blame. He’s in the same level as Jesse and tends to be overly sensitive about people being treated better than him. He often complains if he thinks something’s unfair, which gets him into trouble with the other students. The other teachers also think Jesse isn’t totally at fault either, but…”
She grimaced and looked at Ialu. “It’s what Jesse did that bothers me,” she said.
“What did he do?”
“He grabbed a vase that was by the window and whacked the other boy in the face with it. Luckily it didn’t break, so he was only bruised. But if Jesse had hit him in the wrong place, he could’ve been badly hurt. And if the vase had broken, his face could’ve been cut.”
Ialu stared at Esalu, barely breathing. If it had been an ordinary fist fight, he would have apologized profusely and told Esalu that he’d make Jesse understand. After all, it wasn’t unusual for boys of fourteen to get into fights. But what Jesse had done was different. Even children, Ialu thought, have a strong aversion to punching someone. Although they might flail at each other with their fists, most children would feel fear and self-loathing, not pleasure, if their fist actually connected with someone’s face. To grab a hard object like a vase and strike someone’s face with it was to cross that deeply ingrained line.
“What did the boy say to Jesse?” he asked.
Pain flashed through Esalu’s eyes. “He told Jesse he was the luckiest guy in the world, that he’s always protected by guards because his mother can control the Royal Beasts. He said Jesse would get special treatment his whole life.”
A bitter taste spread through Ialu’s mouth. He stared at Esalu with gloomy eyes.
* * *
The custodian unlocked the storage room and told Jesse he could come out. Squinting against the light, Jesse stepped from the room, only to freeze at the sight of his father.
Jesse was not the only one who was surprised. Ialu blinked at the changes in his son. While Ialu had been away, Jesse had turned from a boy into a young man. Before, his head had only come up to Ialu’s chest, but he had shot up in height and now stood at nose level. His neck and shoulders were still boyishly slender, making his slimness more pronounced, as though he had been stretched vertically.
The biggest shock, however, was Jesse’s expression. The eyes staring up from under his bangs held a bleakness that Ialu had never seen in him.
The surprise on Jesse’s pale, rigid face gradually gave way to a sullen scowl.
“I hear you were in a bad fight,” Ialu said. Jesse shrugged.
“Why did you hit him with a vase?” Ialu persisted quietly, but again got no response. Keeping his mouth firmly closed, Jesse fixed his eyes at Ialu’s shoulder level, never looking up into his face. Ialu stared down at him for a while, then turned abruptly on his heel. “Follow me,” he said.
He walked quickly, sensing Jesse following behind at a distance. Leaving the building, he crossed the pasture. The long yellow grasses, bathed in the autumn sunlight, swayed in the breeze. Ialu nodded at the guard who stood at the edge of the forest before he strode in among the trees. The light was dim, and the earth smelled damp where the trees kept their foliage, but where the branches were already bare, the light dappled their faces and the air smelled of freshly fallen leaves.
Ialu turned onto a trail that was invisible except to those who knew it was there and walked deeper into the forest. When he heard the sound of running water, he veered off and made his way down a leaf-strewn slope toward a rushing stream. Jesse followed, slipping on the leaves. Ialu glanced up to check on him and then stopped at the river’s edge. He sat on a sun-warmed stone, feeling the heat beneath him. There was a little waterfall just up the river, and the sound of the rushing stream mingled with the sound of the water plunging into the basin below.
Jesse had reached the riverbank, but he simply stood and scowled, making no move to sit down.
“Turn your head and look up the slope you just came down,” Ialu said. Jesse turned and gazed up the slope. He grimaced at the sight of a soldier standing among the trees at the top, but Ialu waved a hand at the man, who bowed in return.
Ialu shifted his gaze to Jesse. “Here we can be seen but not heard,” he said. “The river drowns out our voices.”
Still standing, Jesse blinked.
Ialu looked up at him. “How’ve you been?” he asked.
Jesse slid his eyes away and shrugged. Ialu sighed. “You’ve grown a lot since I saw you last. But I guess you’ve only grown physically. Inside, seems like you’ve become a coward.”
Jesse’s jaw clenched and his nose grew pinched. With his eyes fixed on his face, Ialu continued. “You won’t look me in the eye. You shrug your shoulders. You refuse to speak. That’s what cowards do. They build a wall to keep people from mentioning something they don’t want to hear. If anyone dares to mention it, they hit back in a low-handed way. In the past—”
“I’m not a little kid anymore!” Jesse interrupted, his eyes flashing. “Don’t talk like you know who I am when you only come home once a year!”
Ialu raised his eyebrows. “The other students only get to see their parents twice a year. Is there that much difference between you and them?”
Jesse fell silent as though taken by surprise.
“In fact, you can see your mother every day if you want,” Ialu continued. “If someone says you’re lucky, they’re right, don’t you think?”
Jesse’s face flushed. “Me? Lucky?” he snapped, gritting his teeth. He was trembling so hard that even his tightly clenched fists shook.
“Does it make you that angry to be told you’re lucky?” Ialu asked quietly.
“You bet it does!” Jesse snarled. “What’s so lucky about me?”
Ialu looked him in the eye. “What’s so lucky? You have three meals a day. You have a roof over your head when you sleep at night. You can study as much as you want. And if you become a beast doctor, you’ll never have to worry about having enough to eat. It’s true I’m away a lot, but that’s the same for the other students. And you have your mother nearby.”
Jesse shook his head violently. “You just don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand anything! Other parents think about their kids all the time. Even when they’re far away, their kids come first. To them, their kids matter more than anything else in the world.”
“You think we don’t care about you?”
Tears welled in Jesse’s eyes. “You expect me to believe that you and Mom care about me? Really? I don’t know what matters most to you. Mom? Or maybe the country. But I do know this: I’m not the one Mom cares about most!”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is!”
“No, it isn’t.”
With tears streaming down his cheeks, Jesse yelled, “It is too! If she cared about me, then why would she plan to go off somewhere and die? I get that she feels responsible for Leelan and the others. But if she really cared about me, she’d choose to live, wouldn’t she? Even if it meant giving up everything else.”
>
For a moment, Ialu was at a loss for words.
Jesse …
When and how had Jesse realized what Elin had steeled herself to do? With grief in his eyes, Ialu gazed at his son, who was brushing away his tears with both hands as he hiccupped and shook with sobs.
Ialu knew too well the bone-crunching pain of learning he was not first and foremost in his mother’s eyes. Even at the age of eight, he had understood that his mother had no other choice. Her husband had just died and left her with a suckling babe. But he could still remember what he had felt when she reached out to take the bag of gold in exchange for him. Nausea and loathing, the sensation that his guts were melting inside him. Though it would have meant starvation, he had longed for her to say she wouldn’t give up her son, to tell those men that this child meant the world to her. He would rather not have known that there was something more precious to her than him.
Ialu stood up and, reaching out his arm, pulled Jesse close. Rather than resisting, Jesse clung to him. Wrapping his arms around him, Ialu said, “For your mother and for me, there is nothing in this world more precious than you.”
Jesse tried to shake his head, but Ialu held him still. “Listen!” Holding Jesse’s head firmly against his chest, he took a deep breath. “Your mother and I,” he said, “we knew that this would happen, yet we still had you. We knew that we would cause you pain, yet we still chose to bring you into this world. From the moment you were born, the most important thing to us has always been you. All we’ve thought about is how to ensure your happiness and your future.”
Tears slid down Ialu’s cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away. “It’s true that the things we’ve done have trapped and bound us,” he said hoarsely. “What I’m doing, what your mother’s doing, is like fighting in a fog. We have no idea what the outcome will be. But even so, we’re doing it so we can live in peace as a family someday.”
Jesse shook his head. “But Mom—”
“I know, Jesse. I know.” Ialu loosened his hold and looked down at him. “But even that decision is for you, Jesse. We don’t know what will happen if she flies the Royal Beasts to battle. But unless we find out, we can never escape from the situation we’re in. We’ll spend the rest of our lives guarded by allies and hunted by enemies. That’s why your mother decided to follow this path to its end. She chose to obey the wishes of the Yojeh and the Aluhan so that we could see where that path will lead.
The Beast Warrior Page 36
