Stroking Elin’s back, Ialu shared this anecdote with her. Her face tightened. “You mean the degree of excitement is different?” she asked.
“Well, I guess that, too, but I think it’s more the quality that’s different.” He searched for words. “Men get really wound up in combat. It agitates and excites them. It’s not uncommon to get battle fever. But when I’m riding the new breed of Toda and training in formation, I feel strangely on edge, as if my blood is raging inside me. I’m filled with an urge to kill. It’s at its worst when we’re training to storm a building. Then the sensation becomes like a buzzing in my ears. It makes my teeth ache and my skin crawl.”
Elin frowned as she listened.
“A few veteran Riders say they’ve experienced something like it before,” Ialu continued, “but most never have.” He paused suddenly. “You know,” he said, “I just realized that I sometimes feel that same irritation when I’m in the Stone Chambers with the new breed. Maybe that’s why there’re so many fights among the Stewards and Riders these days.”
“You mean like the one you tried to break up?”
“Yeah.” The fight reminded him of something Chimulu had said. “Elin, I forgot to tell you. Chimulu wanted me to ask you a question.”
“Chimulu?”
“Yes. He wants to know if the Silent Whistle emits something invisible to the human eye.” Ialu’s mouth crooked. “He said he knows it’s a weird question and you may just laugh at him, but it’s really been bothering him. He thinks if we can identify what the whistle does, we could find a way to calm the Toda without using it to paralyze them. He’s a lot like you, you know. He says the craziest things.”
But Elin didn’t laugh. She sat motionless, gazing off into space.
“Elin?”
“What does the Silent Whistle emit?” she whispered. She shook her head slightly, then said, as if to herself, “Chimulu’s amazing.” She stared at the ground, remaining silent for a long time. Finally, she raised her head and said in a low voice, “Sound is intricately related to the secrets of the Royal Beasts and the Toda. I think Toda would respond much more sensitively if we controlled them with sounds rather than with their horns.”
Ialu stared at her pale, strained face. She found the manipulation of Royal Beasts and even Toda repellent, yet his job was to breed and improve the Toda. A chill spread through his heart at the thought of what she must have felt as they discussed these things.
Elin’s face relaxed. “Don’t look like that,” she said gently. “Even if I kept this to myself, Chimulu is bound to realize it sooner or later. I’m sure he’ll keep discovering what the restrictions imposed by the Law prevented us from seeing.”
She glanced over at Leelan who was still lazily grooming. “Leelan and the others control the Toda with sound,” she said. “Not just to kill and eat them either. They use it in more subtle ways.
“I’ve been flying them one at a time to areas with wild Toda and training them to stop attacking at my command. But during this process, I noticed something interesting. When there’s only one Toda, Leelan won’t make the sound that renders them helpless for the kill.”
Ialu listened, absorbed by her words.
“Olamu, the Beast Hunter, once told me the same thing. Royal Beasts in the wild only paralyze and devour Toda that are trying to attack their nest, or when they run into a whole swarm of them.”
Ialu’s jaw dropped. “So when Leelan attacked the Toda during the ambush of Her Majesty Halumiya and at the battle on Tahai Azeh it was because there were so many of them?”
Elin nodded.
“Are you sure they won’t attack if there’s only one Toda? Unless it’s attacking their nest?” he demanded.
“Yes. If they aren’t hungry and there’s only one Toda, they won’t attack. But it depends on the situation. For Leelan, the pasture is her territory and the stable is her nest. Even so, if a Toda on its own is behaving aggressively because it’s mating or egg-laying season, she’ll threaten it, warning it not to attack.”
“Threaten? How?”
“With her voice. The cries of a Royal Beast, which sound like notes on a finger flute, are incredibly varied. Even within the range of what I can hear, she distinguishes between many different sounds. Interestingly, Toda also use a varied range of sounds to communicate. I’ve been studying wild Toda these last six years, and the males have a special intonation to attract females, while their young have a cry to call for their parents. Toda are fascinating creatures, you know. Lizards and snakes don’t raise their young, but Toda actually spend quite a long time raising and protecting them. As a pack. They have a strong instinct to protect hatchlings within the pack, even if they aren’t their own.”
She breathed a short sigh. “The Toga mi Lyo must have studied all of the Toda’s cries in great detail and used that knowledge to develop the Handler’s Art.”
Ialu saw grief rise in her eyes.
“I’m sure that art is still passed down among the Ahlyo,” she said hoarsely. “But I don’t even know the real meaning of the song my mother played to save my life. Toda and Royal Beasts are mysterious creatures. They’re different from other animals. The more I learn about them, the more I’m sure of that. If Toda bred by men are different from those in the wild, there must be a reason. But I would need far more time to find out. I’d have to spend years studying and comparing them.”
She looked down and rubbed her chilled fingertips to warm them. The autumn wind shook the grasses and stroked her hair. Far away, she heard a bird call twice, then silence. She raised her head and gazed sightlessly at the swaying ears of grass. “What I’ve managed to find out so far has just scraped the surface. But thanks to that, I’ve learned a lot. Toda are such powerful creatures that, except for other Toda, Royal Beasts are their only predators. Without the Beasts, they would soon overproduce and end up eating each other, or starving to death. They don’t produce as many young as lizards or snakes, but compared to Royal Beasts, which only bear an average of two cubs in a lifetime, they’re far more prolific. That’s probably why Royal Beasts wield such power over them. For Royal Beasts, Toda are the only creature capable of killing their cubs. And if their cubs are eaten, they could be wiped out.”
Turning her face up to the autumn sunshine, she narrowed her eyes. “The relationship between Toda and Royal Beasts is deep and complex. I’m certain the catastrophe we were warned about is connected to that relationship in some way.”
She turned to Ialu. Frustration burned in her eyes. “Even though I’ve managed to find out that much, I’m still missing crucial pieces. For some time now I’ve been pondering the same question Chimulu asked. Because the Silent Whistle is unique to the Toda and the Royal Beasts. It doesn’t affect any other animal. Dogs and humans aren’t paralyzed by it, so why do both Royal Beasts and Toda freeze when someone blows it?
“And why,” she whispered as if chasing her own thoughts, “can Royal Beasts tell how far apart they are in heavy mist or avoid rock formations in the middle of the night? How do they pick up on such things without using their eyes? If the Whistle doesn’t make a sound, then what knocks them rigid when we blow it?”
She stared off into space, thinking, then looked at Ialu. Her eyes gleamed with an uncanny light. “You said that the strange irritation becomes stronger when you’re inside a building or the Chambers, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe the Toda are emitting something that bounces off the walls or objects.” Her voice rose with excitement. “I’ve been wondering if that might be the case for a long time. If they measure the distance between themselves by emitting something invisible and inaudible to us, then the training I’ve been doing may not have been wasted!”
Ialu frowned. “Is there anything that we can’t see or hear?”
“Yes. Lots of things in this world exist even though we can’t see them with our eyes. Just think about tokujisui. To us it simply looks like a liquid, but the solution contains elements that
react with something inside Toda and Royal Beasts to change them. From the outside, we can’t see the effects of tokujisui or the changes it causes. If only they were visible!”
Ialu’s eyes narrowed. “That reminds me. Speaking of changes, the body fluids of the new breed are more toxic.”
Elin’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Chimulu told me. According to him, one of the Stewards accidentally cut his hand on a scale. He went rigid and collapsed, and the cut bled profusely even though it was quite shallow. Maybe the bleeding helped wash out the poison, because the rigidity soon wore off and he recovered. But I’ve never heard of that happening before when people came in contact with Toda fluids. Have you?”
Elin shook her head, her eyes gleaming. “It sounds like the toxins are not only stronger but also produce different symptoms,” she said. “I wonder what could’ve caused such a change in the nature of the poison. I’ll have to look into it.”
The excitement in her face faded. To investigate the cause would mean staying in Tokala village for an extended period. She couldn’t do that and still continue training and studying the Royal Beasts. If Ialu told Yohalu how important this research was, he would appoint someone to do it. But she would prefer to see the nature of the change with her own eyes.
She shoved her hair back from her forehead and looked at the sky. “I need more time!” she exclaimed. “Time to find out all the things I want to know! Human lives are just too short.”
Clouds swept like thin brush strokes across the autumn sky. Gazing at them, she let the tension seep from her shoulders. “At times like this, I always remember what Yuyan used to say: ‘You haven’t got eight brains and eight hands y’know, Elin. You’ve just got one head and one body. It’s only natural that you can’t do everything.’”
Ialu smiled. Elin’s face always softened when she spoke of her old friend. They used to exchange letters frequently. Yuyan would tell her all about her eight kids, her husband, Kashugan, and all the little village intrigues. Her cheerful disposition came through in her writing, and they would all burst out laughing when they read her letters. Jesse loved it whenever they got one. As for Ialu, each time he came in contact with Yuyan’s unhurried, pragmatic approach to life, it made him keenly aware of the speed at which he and Elin were living their own lives.
Elin had stopped sending letters once she began training the Royal Beasts for fear of repercussions on Yuyan and her family. But even now, her friend remained in her heart, reminding her to slow down when she was going too fast.
“Ialu,” Elin murmured, still gazing at the sky. “Is there any meaning to what I’ve been doing? Did I accomplish anything?”
Ialu stared at her. He didn’t bother searching for words to respond. Even as she asked this question, Elin knew there was no answer. They sat together in the autumn field for a long while, staring up at the light blue sky and feeling precious time slipping away.
6
THE TODA OF LAHZA
Stars glittered like grains of sand in the broad heavens. Omilu glanced up at the night sky above the buildings as he trudged along the dark road.
That last pub was one too many, he thought. The pungent odor of spices lingered in his mouth, making him feel queasy. The whole town reeked of it. Everything about this place, the buildings, the women’s skin, smelled different from his hometown. When he was first posted to the caravan city of Ulamu, it had all been new and exciting. His eyes were drawn to the women with their long slender necks and firm, high breasts, and the tenderly stewed meat marinated in spices had melted in his mouth.
But the novelty had since worn off, and he had grown tired of this place. Things that at first had seemed exotic now seemed cloying. Whenever he saw children running in the streets, where multi-hued fabric flapped in the breeze, he would think of his daughter, who must have been playing back home, and each night he spent time with a woman whose skin was slick with fragrant oil, he recalled his wife’s hair, which smelled of the hearth.
Five more years. That was how long he had to go before he could leave this foreign place. The thought made him sigh. Maybe they’d let me go home if I got sick, he thought. But it would take him a month and a half by carriage to get there. Even on a fast steed, he would need at least twenty days. The reality of the distance pierced his heart.
He turned onto the main road. His face clouded. It seemed abnormally quiet. It should have been bustling with groups of soldiers off duty on their way back to their quarters, but there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Am I the last one?
Just as he had thought, he should never have gone to that last tavern. He should have gone back with his comrades instead of being greedy and insisting on going to another spot. If he was late getting back and arrived on his own, the senior officer might notice and berate him.
The night wind blew down the wide thoroughfare. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. The road led to the thick outer wall of the city and the imposing main gate. It was known as the Thunder Gate because of the noise the chains made when the heavy drawbridge was lowered across the moat that protected the city against invasion. As he approached it, Omilu frowned. It was still open. It should have been closed at sunset, and there were no guards or Toda to protect it. Even more surprising, the drawbridge was down.
His scalp crawled, and he sobered up instantly. Placing a hand on his hilt, he moved into the shadow of the great stone wall circling the city and broke into a dash, heading for the guardhouse. The sweet odor of Toda wafted toward him, but there were still none in sight. Nor did he see any of his comrades. He peeked inside the guardhouse. The light of the candles illuminated the space to the back of the room, but all he saw was a deck of cards scattered across the table.
Rather than walking through the towering main gate, he opened a wooden door on one side of the guardhouse as he always did, and stepped onto the drawbridge. The wind struck him forcefully, bearing the scent of Toda and something that reminded him of copper. Blood. His pulse hammered like a gong.
No one was there. Sinking into the darkness, all that was visible were the moat filled with dark water, the Toda stables—ten stone structures along the edge of the moat, and the fort that also served as the soldiers’ living quarters. As he started across the drawbridge, the smell of blood grew stronger. Peering over the railing, he let out a little scream.
A corpse floated in the moat. Or half a corpse. Its torso was gone from the midriff up. For a moment he thought that the gatekeeper’s Toda must have gone mad and eaten him, but then he noticed a huge log-like shape floating beyond the body. Dead. A dead Toda floating in the moat!
His head felt numb. Everything seemed to warp and pull away from him, as though he were in some kind of nightmare. He broke into a stumbling run, drawn toward the fort where his comrades ought to be. His mind kept telling him to go back, to run for it, to hide in a cheap inn or tavern in the town, but he couldn’t stop his feet from moving.
He ran across the bridge and onto the grass beyond. As he passed the first Toda stable, he thought he heard something moving. Cautiously, he approached the half-open door and peered inside. His eyes widened. Bobbing in the large Pond were the corpses of Toda and men. At the edge of the pool stood a large Toda, and on its back …
A sharp blow struck his temple, and he knew nothing more.
* * *
When Omilu came to, the first thing he noticed was the smell of cold stone. Opening his eyes, he saw wet paving stones and beyond that, the Toda Pond. The raw odor of blood and the musk-like scent of Toda wafted toward him from its surface. Nausea gripped him, and he cleared his throat. His head was pounding. He tried to touch it but couldn’t move his hands. Each time he struggled, ropes bit into his wrists.
When he understood that he had been tied up and rolled to the edge of the Pond, memory came flooding back. Breathing shallowly, he tried to make out what was going on. For several minutes, his mind had registered sounds, but now that he was fully conscious, he realized the sounds
were voices.
“The lucky soldier appears to be awake.” The man’s voice was startlingly close. Although he was speaking Omilu’s language, the accent was so thick he sounded as if he was twisting his tongue as he spoke.
“Sit him up.” With that command, he heard footsteps coming toward him. Someone grabbed his arms roughly and forced him to a sitting position. Omilu’s head jerked and pain shot through his skull. Bile rose in his throat, but he forced it down. Gradually the world stopped spinning around him, and three men came into focus. Two wore leather vests and had a sword slung at their hips. One of them, a fierce-looking warrior with skin tanned a deep copper, gripped Omilu’s arms, while the other, a stocky, middle-aged warrior, stood gazing down at him. They were both Lahza.
Omilu’s flesh tightened from his stomach to his chest. Shaking, he stared up at the older man in front of him. Beside him stood what looked like a musician. From the lakkalu slung across his back and his loose robes, it was clear at least that he wasn’t a warrior.
The stocky man turned to the musician. “This one’s yours. Take him back with you as a living witness, a remnant of the Lyoza army.”
The musician, his face haggard, looked down at Omilu. He was a young man, bronze-skinned like the Asheh. When he began to speak, however, he sounded like a native of Lyoza. “What about the others?” he asked. “Will you not let even a few more prisoners free?”
The warrior shook his head. “They’re hostages. Whether we set them free depends on the Yojeh’s answer.” He stroked his beard and continued in a soft voice. “Minstrel with the eyes of an Asheh and the heart of a Lyoza, tell your father just how easily we took this town tonight. Tell him with that silvery tongue of yours that the plains belong to us and the fearsome Toda are no longer his kingdom’s alone.”
The Beast Warrior Page 38
