We will never find an alternative to war until every one of us—nobles, commoners, and even warriors—is convinced that bloodshed must be avoided at all costs.
To convince her people: that was her real task as the Yojeh who, resolved to bear responsibility for war, had married the Aluhan.
For some time, she fixed her melancholy gaze on a ray of sunlight that fell on the long table in the middle of the room. Finally, she sighed and looked at Shunan. “Let me follow the example of Lord Yohalu and Lord Saluma and take a step to deepen the bond between us.”
Shunan raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Seimiya said coolly, “For the Yojeh to declare war is lunacy. The least I can do is to make a change for the better, no matter how small it may be. You once showed me the tragic sacrifices your soldiers make. The people of Aluhan territory are expected to give so much for me. And for the people of my territory, who reap the benefits without sacrificing anything themselves and without any gratitude. The warlords and commoners of your territory resent this injustice, so let me at least help relieve some of that ill feeling.”
Shunan’s face clouded. “Are you sure? That’s bound to upset the nobles in Yojeh territory.”
The smile that lit up Seimiya’s face seemed incongruously bright. “They’re already upset because I married you. Don’t worry. I won’t handle this so clumsily as to make life difficult for our children.”
A strong light gleamed in her eyes. “Those who wish to profit must bear the responsibility involved. I will simply make sure the nobles pay what is due.”
* * *
After tea, the Yojeh summoned all the warlords and nobles back to the meeting room. There she asked them if they truly wished her to reject the agreement offered by Nozgula of Oolish Oh and whether they were resolved to accept the outcome if rejection should lead to war. The nobles placed their hands over their hearts and declared that this was their will. To them, she said, “In the past, when the Hajan attacked this country, my ancestor chose not to fight and expressed her willingness to offer them her head. I have the utmost admiration for my ancestor’s wish.”
Her voice was thin but piercing. A shadow of unease crossed the faces of the men at these unexpected words.
“To the Yojeh,” said Seimiya quietly, “the shedding of human blood is a sin. I detest war with my whole being. If, in order to avert conflict, I should take the hand that Nozgula has extended to me and give him the three caravan cities he demands, would you respect my decision?”
The men blanched, and their expressions froze. Then with bewildered looks, they searched the other faces in the room. Observing their consternation, Seimiya continued, “Or would you dissuade me, as Yaman Hasalu, the ancestor of my husband the Aluhan, once dissuaded the Yojeh of his time by offering to accept the defilement of bloodshed in her stead and expressing his willingness to lay down his life?”
A murmur arose and spread through the room. Color returned to the men’s faces and they nodded, glancing at one another. Seimiya turned her face to the nobles of the oldest family lines. “Toiyala? Somaya? Akizalaku? Which path will you choose?”
Asked point-blank, they blushed, but Toiyala said, “Your Majesty, I humbly beg your forgiveness, but I wish to dissuade you.”
Somaya and Akizalaku immediately chimed in. “For the sake of this country, we also wish to dissuade you. This impure decree has not come from Your Majesty. Rather it is our wish.”
They had regained their composure, and relief showed in their faces. Having read behind Seimiya’s words her desire to keep the position of the Yojeh unsullied, they had concluded that all they needed to do was respond to her wish.
With her eyes fixed on theirs, Seimiya drove her point home. “So,” she said, “you wish to emulate Yaman Hasalu, the Aluhan’s ancestor. Is that correct?”
Only Somaya showed a trace of apprehension at these words. The other two nodded magnanimously. “That is correct, Your Majesty,” Toiyala said. “As sincere and loyal subjects, we are concerned for Your Majesty and for the country.”
Seimiya nodded and shifted her gaze to Akizalaku and Somaya, then to each of the other nobles. A few looked troubled, but when she gazed into their eyes, they all nodded without exception. She rose from her throne. “Not only the loyal vassals of Aluhan territory but my own nobles are urging me to declare war. I ask you, my people, should I choose to fight?”
They pressed their hands to their hearts and declared in unison, “Yes.”
“My people, I do not wish to drag you into the chaos of war. I ask you once again. Do you truly wish for war in which your own blood may flow?”
With their hands still on their hearts, they declared that they did.
Seimiya nodded and let her eyes sweep the room. “I understand. If you truly wish to shed blood for the sake of profit, then I, the Yojeh, will respect your wish. Oh, nobles of my realm, I have heard this plea from your heart. Let me reject the hand that Nozgula has offered. If war should result, then so be it. And, my faithful nobles, I hereby give you permission to ride into the battlefield as Yaman Hasalu did of old.”
The nobles, who were listening to her words with flushed faces and shining eyes, froze. Giving them no chance to speak, Seimiya said, “Until now, the Yojeh has made the Aluhan and his people shed blood for her sake, but see how blessed I am to have such loyal subjects as you. Your high-minded ideal that those who seek profit should bear equal responsibility and pay the same price for their actions is truly noble. It is my intention to join my husband in the battlefield and stand by you in this decision. So that there may be no one who profits without sacrifice.”
As her words rang through the room, the nobles of Yojeh territory were not the only ones who paled. The warlords of Aluhan territory looked as though they had been struck by a lightning bolt.
At that moment, everyone knew: The Yojeh stood with the Aluhan. That was her wish.
8
THE COURIER COMES
Elin was feeding Leelan when she heard someone pounding on the stable door.
Ever since bidding Ialu farewell, she had felt hollow. No matter what she did, she couldn’t dispel the emptiness. She looked up at Leelan and sighed. Although there was still meat in her food box, Leelan had turned away and begun preening herself. She had less appetite than usual, and her coat of fur and the hairs around her muzzle had lost the luster of youth.
Whenever she noticed signs that Leelan was aging, Elin felt a pang of loneliness. The average lifespan of Royal Beasts in the wild was unclear, but those in the sanctuary lived about twenty years. And while thirty years was possible, it was considered a remarkably long life. Leelan was already past twenty. Looking up into her gentle eyes, Elin thought how quickly time had passed.
It was at that moment that she heard the knock on the steel door. Someone called her name. After wiping her hands on her apron, she raised the bolt and opened the door. One of the guards stood in the morning sunlight, his face strained.
“A courier has just arrived with an urgent message from Her Majesty, the Yojeh. You are asked to read it and respond immediately.”
Elin broke the seal and spread open the pages inside. As her eyes followed the words, a chill numbness spread across her forehead. Written in a code that only Seimiya, Shunan, Elin, and Esalu could understand, the message described the defeat of Ulamu in a surprise attack by a Lahza Toda troop, the Yojeh’s rejection of a proposal from Nozgula, grand chief of the Western Oolish, and the fact that she and the Aluhan were preparing for war. Elin read as far as the Yojeh’s request that she fly the Royal Beasts to the capital, but got no farther. Her eyes kept skidding off the page.
She raised her face. “Please tell the courier that I received the message and will begin composing a reply immediately,” she said to the guard. “But it will be faster for me to take the Royal Beasts and deliver my reply in person, so please tell him that I’ll take it myself.”
The guard saluted sharply, then turned on his heel and dashed away.
* *
*
Elin did not fly the Royal Beasts that day. Instead, she spent hours at her desk in her room. The Yojeh and the Aluhan had asked her to gather the Royal Beasts immediately at the Lazalu Sanctuary in the capital. Assuming that the main battle would take place near one of the caravan cities, they were now building enclosures at each city to station the Royal Beasts. Once it became clear where the battle would be fought, they would ask her to fly them from Lazalu to the battlefront.
To the Royal Beasts, Toda were just Toda. They couldn’t distinguish between friend and foe. A clear plan of action was needed to prevent them from attacking their own side. The Aluhan and his men had studied each potential battlefield and had developed a number of plans, which were conveyed in the letter.
Elin examined each one and wrote detailed comments about which might be difficult and about adjustments that should be made in consideration of the Royal Beasts’ nature. By the time she finished, it was already late afternoon, and the light slanting through the window onto the edge of her desk had turned a rosy hue. There was a dull ache deep in her eyes. She pressed her fingers against her temples as she carefully reread the words she’d written. With a sigh, she rolled and sealed the letter tightly.
She had been requested to leave Kazalumu within the next two days at the latest. Today she would have to tell Esalu everything and prepare her luggage. Had they given her so little time to pack because it was so urgent, or because they didn’t want to give her time to think?
Elin gazed out the window. The setting sun gilded the treetops. In her mind, she imagined the Royal Beasts shooting up like fireworks at a single command and scattering across the vault of the evening sky.
I have done what I could.
That thought dropped into her breast and spread through her being. She had studied the nature of Royal Beasts for a long time. Based on that, she had pondered what kind of disaster might have happened beyond the Afon Noah. She had added to this all that she had learned from Ialu about the habits of the Toda to make her own deductions and train the Royal Beasts so that she could respond to whatever happened on the battlefield. There were still some things she would have liked to try if there had been a little more time, but she had no regrets about what she had done so far.
A ray of red light bathed her bookshelf. On it were all the documents that she had written and bound roughly with thread. Records of the characteristics and nature of Toda and Royal Beasts, as well as a record of her own life and the path that had led her here. She had written these accounts, hoping to give them to Jesse when he was old enough to read them. Their paper spines were fuzzy because she had flipped through them many times, adding passages. She stared at them for some time. Then, slipping the scroll she had written inside the front of her robe, she stood and opened the door to her room.
The living room with the hearth had already sunk into blue shadow. The sight of the cold hearth reminded her suddenly of Jesse, who usually sat there waiting for her, and a sharp pain ran from the pit of her stomach up to her chest. They would have to part so soon. When she left tomorrow, she might never sit around that hearth with Jesse again.
Her skin grew cold, and she felt as though her body was shriveling up and sinking deep into her chest. She fumbled for the wooden post with her hand, and when she found it, pressed her forehead against it. A huge wave of grief rose inside her. She couldn’t breathe. Clinging to the pillar, she pressed her forehead against the smooth wood surface and gasped for air. Even now, some corner of her mind told her not to cry out loud because the guards were in the next room. For a long time, she clung to the post, breathing raggedly through her mouth.
* * *
When his teacher told him to spend the night at home, Jesse felt the world around him recede into the distance. Everyone had been talking about the special courier from the palace who had arrived that morning, and Jesse’s friends told him they had seen his mother go into the headmistress’s room. He had worried all day that the courier’s message had something to do with his mother. So when he heard that an exception was being made to the school rules and he was being allowed to spend the night at home, he knew that what he had feared had now come to pass.
As he opened the door to his home, the aroma of fresh-baked fahko tickled his nostrils. Elin was kneeling in front of the oven removing a thin baking sheet.
“Oh, there you are,” she said. “Welcome home. Perfect timing, too. Would you get me that big plate?”
Jesse hurried over to the sink and quickly washed his hands, then got out a large plate and held it out for his mother to slip the fahko on it. It was a large thin disk like those sold in the stores, rather than the kind she usually baked. Noticing thin slices of boar meat on a cutting board in the kitchen, he guessed what she must be making. “We’re going to have charcoal-grilled boar?” he asked.
Elin nodded. “Yes, we are. Although I’m a little late getting started.”
A pot hung over the hearth, filled with piping hot vegetable soup. Wrapping a towel around the handle, his mother removed the pot and put it off to one side, then placed a four-legged metal grill over the coals. She greased the pan with a chunk of fat and arranged the slices of meat on it. They made a sizzling sound.
As he watched, Jesse spread mazu, a sweet-and-spicy miso, on the steaming fahko and topped this with leafy greens. He loved this dish. Well-grilled boar, a little burnt around the edges, wrapped in fahko spread with mazu. When they’d lived in town, his mother always used to make this for him on his birthday and for special occasions.
“It’s done,” Elin said. “Here.” When she placed the sizzling meat on top of the greens and fahko, Jesse’s eyes blurred, and he could no longer see. Keeping his head down and gritting his teeth, he forced himself not to cry.
He heard his father’s voice in his ears: “When the time comes, don’t make your mother sad. Send her off without tears.” He sucked in his breath repeatedly, determined not to let her see him cry, but a sob caught in his throat, and he couldn’t hold back his tears any longer.
The plate was lifted from his hands and placed beside him, and he was wrapped in his mother’s arms. Clinging to her, he wept. He pressed his head into her chest, just as he had done as a child, and sobbed. The thought that he might never see her again burned his chest, and the tears wouldn’t stop. He cried until his head swam. Feeling the strength of his mother’s arms as she held him to her, Jesse stayed wrapped within her warmth. Finally, like the receding tide, something drained from his heart, leaving only a hollow loneliness. Once again, the words his father had said before he left Kazalumu rang inside him:
“When the Yojeh gives the command, your mother must leave. No matter how much you might cry, there’s nothing that can be done to change that. So Jesse, don’t cry. When the time comes, don’t make your mother sad. Send her off without tears.”
Jesse took a deep breath and gently withdrew his arms. Looking up at his mother through tear-drenched lashes, he saw that her face was also streaked with tears.
9
MOTHER AND CHILD
“Is the war going to start?” Jesse whispered.
“Probably. But nobody knows yet what’s going to happen. Or if I’ll need to fly Leelan and the others. I was told to wait at Lazalu for further orders.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“That soon!” Elin nodded, and Jesse’s face twisted. “Are you taking them all? Even Alu?”
“I’m leaving Alu and Ukalu here. Because Alu’s pregnant.”
When Jesse heard this, he clenched his teeth and looked down for a moment. Raising his face, he said, “You’ll come back again, won’t you?”
She was about to nod but hesitated, something Jesse didn’t miss. A hard light gleamed in his eyes. “You can’t die, Mom! Promise me you won’t!” he cried. “You’re taking Leelan and the others to war because that’s what the Yojeh and the Aluhan want. It’s not your fault! There’s nothing you can do about it, so don’t go think
ing that you have to take responsibility for it!”
Elin looked at him in surprise. “What are you talking about, Jesse?”
“I know what you’re thinking, Mom! You feel guilty for training Leelan and the others as weapons of war, don’t you? You feel you’ve betrayed them. If they’re killed on the battlefield, you plan to die with them to pay for what you’ve done, right? Don’t think I don’t know! I heard what you told the Yojeh. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
“Father said you’re trying to find a way for our family and the Royal Beasts to live in peace, but if you die, we’ll never be happy. Don’t you get that?” His voice had risen shrilly.
“Hush, Jesse. Lower your voice,” Elin whispered, glancing at the door, and he fell silent. “So you heard us talking, did you?” Elin asked.
Jesse nodded defiantly, biting his lip. I see, Elin thought as she stared at her son. That’s why he’s been acting so odd lately. The tension inside her ebbed away, replaced by a strange peacefulness.
“Jesse,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to die to pay for what I’ve done.”
Jesse pulled in his chin as though caught off guard. “Really?” he said.
She nodded. “Really. How could I even think of such a thing when you’re here? I won’t choose death to pay for what I’ve done. If I want to make amends, I’ll do it by living, even if I have to crawl to do it. What I meant by taking responsibility is that I won’t shove that burden onto anyone else just to escape from it.” She paused, then added, “Jesse, ever since I was your age, I’ve dreamed of returning Leelan and the others to the wild. I’ve always believed we should let creatures born in the wild live as they would have. But when I tried to do that, I ended up twisting the bonds that bind the Royal Beasts even tighter.”
She turned her eyes to the hearth and stared at the red coals. “Even now, I still don’t know what was the right thing to do. If I hadn’t interfered, if I’d given the Beasts tokujisui, they would never have had to go to war. But left like that, they would never have flown, or mated, or borne cubs either. They would have spent their lives waiting to die.”
The Beast Warrior Page 40
