Rice was the country’s most valuable crop because the people paid their taxes with it. It was collected from each village and then brought to the country’s storehouses, from which a certain amount was sold to merchants for cash. It was only natural that the Chief Treasurer, who was responsible for the nation’s coffers, would violently object to reducing rice production, and the Master Star Reader had fully expected his interference. He breathed a mental sigh. Gakai would obviously never be suited to serve as the Master Star Reader. “Of course the Chief Treasurer complained,” he said. “That’s his job — to protect the government’s wealth. But why did you, a Star Reader, do what he said without question?”
Gakai looked perplexed. “Because … I thought that protecting the country is the most important thing for Star Readers too.”
The Master Star Reader shook his head slowly. “What on earth have you learned in all the time you’ve been in the Star Palace? You’ve spent your days studying the majestic truth that all those who live on this earth are inextricably bound to the stars in the heavens, moved by invisible threads — yet you still don’t understand how this country works! Anyone involved in the political affairs of this land, not just the Chief Treasurer, is going to put the nation’s wealth first, especially the government officials who skim profits off the merchants. To them, the death of one or two hundred peasants from starvation is far preferable to reducing the amount of money in the treasury. This is precisely why we need Star Readers. We can see much farther into the future than anyone else, with much broader vision. It is this that enables us to lead the country properly.
“Can’t you see? If we make the farmers plant rice because of our greed, in the fall we will reap only withered crops and the bitter anger of people dying from starvation. And that anger will run deep and swell until it shakes the country to its foundations.” Gakai stared at the ground. The Master Star Reader’s voice was quiet but firm, brooking no further argument. “Rewrite the message and make sure it reaches every chief in the land as quickly as possible. Do you understand?”
Gakai could only nod his head.
About four months after they had moved to the hunting cave, when the snow on the mountains was finally beginning to melt, an odd change came over Chagum.
“Hey, Chagum, are you planning to sleep all day?” Balsa scolded him as she started to pull off his quilt.
He looked up at her, drowsy-eyed. “Balsa, I’m tired. My body feels so heavy.”
She placed her hand on his forehead and inclined her head to one side. “Maybe you’ve caught a cold. You don’t seem to have a fever, though. Tanda, can you come here a minute?” she asked, turning toward him. He looked up from the fire, where he was putting water on to boil. “Chagum says he’s not feeling well.”
Tanda knelt down beside him. He told him to stick out his tongue, then felt below his ears. Next, he picked up his slender wrist and checked his pulse. He sat for a while counting and then said, “Hmm, his pulse is a bit slow. Chagum, do you notice any other difference besides the fact that you feel tired?”
“I’m sleepy … I feel as if … I’m being pulled … to the bottom … of … the … earth.” His eyes closed and he fell fast asleep. Tanda and Balsa looked at one another.
“Do you think the egg is doing this?”
“Well, the symptoms are a little strange for a cold. It will soon be spring. Maybe the egg is starting to grow. That could cause changes in his body.”
“What should we do? Should we wake him up? What if he never wakes up?!”
“Calm down, Balsa. If this is the work of Nyunga Ro Im, it shouldn’t hurt Chagum. If it’s Rarunga, then we ought to feel something, but I can’t sense any danger. Can you?”
Balsa probed with her mind for some other presence near Chagum. “No, I don’t sense any danger or hostility. But remember, Rarunga is not human. Maybe my intuition won’t sense something from an invisible world like Nayugu.”
“I doubt it. Chagum lives in Sagu. Even if the monster’s home is in Nayugu, it will have to appear in this world to attack him. A hundred years ago, they saw the claws that ripped the child apart, remember? I’m sure we’d notice something if it was going to show up here. Whatever the case, I should probably take a look inside him.”
He rubbed his palms together, half closed his eyes, and began muttering under his breath. Then he pulled back the covers and laid his hands on Chagum’s chest. Balsa, watching with bated breath, noticed that his hands seemed blurred. Looking closely, she saw that Chagum’s chest was also beginning to blur — and then suddenly they seemed to merge together. Tanda pulled his hands away abruptly and gasped for air, like someone surfacing from underwater.
“Are you all right?” Balsa asked, peering at him with concern.
Tanda waved a hand in front of his face. “Phew! That was exhausting!” He keeled over backward and lay on the floor, covering his face with his hands. Once he had caught his breath again, he sat up. “It’s just as I thought. The egg is changing. It’s much bigger, so big that I can see something pulsing inside it.”
Balsa frowned. “Are you sure Chagum will be all right? Even with some other creature growing inside him? Digger wasp larvae eat their host when they hatch…. You don’t think this creature will consume Chagum, do you?”
Tanda brushed the hair from his forehead where it clung, damp with sweat, and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Here in Sagu, Chagum’s body has not really been weakened at all.”
“But just look at him! He was so tired he fell asleep again.”
“I think those are just signs that his body is trying to adjust naturally to the growth of the egg. You saw how wiped out I was just now, didn’t you? Even with training as a magic weaver, it’s grueling to span the worlds of Sagu and Nayugu. Up to now, Chagum hasn’t seemed tired at all, even though he is constantly straddling two worlds. This must mean that his body has already adjusted to it. But now the egg is growing and entering a new stage. Adjusting to this change probably requires a lot of energy. I think he’s sleeping to conserve his strength.”
Seeing her dubious expression, Tanda smiled. “You don’t believe me, do you? Because it’s me, right? But Torogai said the same thing. We don’t know how Nyunga Ro Im lays its egg in someone from Sagu, or how it chooses that person. But look around at this world, how perfectly it’s made. Flowers can’t move, yet the insects come to them and spread their pollen. Trees can’t move either, but birds and animals eat their fruit and carry their seeds far and wide. There must be something about Chagum that makes him suitable for the job of carrying the egg. Torogai only shares a tenth of what she knows, but if she felt there was any danger, she would have told me. Don’t worry. It’ll be all right.”
Balsa looked keenly at him; he showed no trace of anxiety. “You seem very calm about it,” she said.
“Really? I guess I was expecting something like this to happen. Come on. Let’s have breakfast. After all, we have no choice but to let things take their course.”
Balsa sighed and did as he suggested. But despite what he had said, the dark cloud of anxiety that weighed on her mind did not disappear. Tanda and Torogai were magic weavers; they had kept company with spirits and the supernatural all their lives. But she had not, and therefore she found it hard to believe that this cloud-puffing spirit, Nyunga Ro Im, would not harm Chagum.
They made hot rice porridge over the hearth, adding a little salt for flavor, and had begun eating when Tanda noticed Balsa staring vacantly into the flames.
“Balsa.”
“Hmm?”
“You look so depressed. What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing … Just that winter’s almost over.”
“It was a good winter, wasn’t it? Just the three of us, working and relaxing together. Like Noya’s grandmother, I wish this particular winter would never end. But spring is coming.”
“And then we’ll say good-bye to peace and quiet. Rarunga will wake, and it will be do or die.”
&nbs
p; Tanda gazed at her. “You’re right. From now on, we’ll be fighting for our very lives.” Then he added, “If we survive, why don’t we stay together, the three of us, just like we did this winter?”
Balsa’s eyes wavered. Tanda said quietly, “I’ve been waiting all this time. You know that. I thought I would wait until you had fulfilled your vow.” His eyes suddenly filled with something that could have been either sorrow or anger. “But I’ve begun to think maybe you’ll never come back, no matter how long I wait. Your life has become one long, bloody battle. Somewhere along the line you started to fight just for the sake of fighting.”
Balsa did not answer, but in her heart she knew that he was right. The fighting impulse had penetrated the very marrow of her bones. During the winter, there had been times when she had been burning for a fight. She smiled wryly. “What should I do? Do you have any medicine that can cure me?”
Tanda smiled bleakly and shook his head. “If you can’t believe I could be that medicine, then there’s no point in waiting, is there?” Without another word, he stood up and went outside.
Balsa sat staring at the porridge bubbling in the pot over the fire. A heavy sadness simmered inside her. For an instant, she thought of running after him and grabbing his arm, but she did not. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face with her hand. Idiot! How could he distract me at a time like this?! She felt hot tears welling up but sat motionless, with her eyes closed.
Where he went she did not know, but Tanda did not come back even in the afternoon. Balsa spent the day working silently. It was sunset by the time Chagum finally woke. She was just coming in with a bundle of firewood when he opened his eyes with a groan.
“Chagum? How do you feel?”
He stared at her with unseeing eyes for a moment, then murmured, “It seems so dark, Balsa.”
“That’s because the sun’s already setting. You spent the whole day sleeping, you know. Do you still feel tired?”
He shook his head and sat up. “I’m thirsty,” he said hoarsely. Balsa brought him some water in a bowl and he gulped it down noisily.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, but my head feels kind of fuzzy.”
“That’s because you slept so long. If you’re feeling all right, go outside and get a bit of fresh air. That should wake you up.” Chagum nodded and stood up. He changed into his clothes slowly and went outside. Just as Balsa was moving the ashes in the hearth to one side to lay new logs on the fire, she heard him scream.
Grabbing her spear, she raced outside, but she could detect no sign of an enemy or even anything out of the ordinary. All she could see was Chagum’s dark silhouette at the cave’s entrance, outlined in the bright rays of the setting sun. His hands were clamped over his mouth, and his body was rigid and shaking violently. He was as taut as a fine string stretched to breaking point.
“Chagum! What’s wrong?”
He turned, his eyes rolling and his face contorted in sheer terror. She grabbed him and pulled him to her, hugging him tightly. There was nothing to scare him, nor could she sense any invisible presence. Yet something was not right. Chagum’s small frame seemed insubstantial, as if he would vanish from her arms at any moment, and Balsa felt dizzy, though she could not understand why. She blinked. The scenery around her looked blurred and dim, as if it were wavering.
“Balsa!” A voice thundered in the core of her being. She recognized it as Tanda’s, but it was filled with a powerful intensity that she had never heard from him before. “Chagum is being pulled into Nayugu. Don’t let yourself be dragged in with him. Center your energy in the pit of your stomach. Be like a pillar, grounding him in Sagu. Balsa!”
She took a long, deep breath and concentrated her energy in her center. A warm ball of power formed inside her, calming her, and the dizziness passed. Chagum let out a thin whistle of breath followed by a high-pitched wail: “Help! I’m going to fall! I’m going to fall!”
“Chagum!” Tanda’s voice reverberated like a huge drum through Chagum’s body, beating heavy and deep. “Calm down. It’s all right. What you see is only Nayugu, that’s all.”
“There’s nothing under me! Just a deep valley —” Chagum began to scream, his eyes closed. Balsa tightened her hold, but he kept on screaming.
“Tanda! What should I do?”
The words had no sooner left her mouth than she felt two large, warm arms enfold them both. In a low voice, Tanda began chanting in Chagum’s ear — no words, just sounds. Like the rhythmical murmur of waves washing against the shore, calming vibrations rolled from him to the boy. Chagum stopped screaming, and his shaking slowly lessened.
“Chagum, relax,” Tanda said. “The valley you see is not where you are standing. You’re looking at the land of Nayugu. Can you hear me? Your body is here, standing right on the ground of Sagu. It’s all right. You won’t fall.” He gently let them go and stepped back. “Calm your mind and feel Balsa’s arms around you. Can you feel them now?”
Chagum nodded. “Now use Balsa as a guide,” Tanda continued. “Start from where you feel her arms around you. Feel your own body, slowly. Your arms, back, chest, stomach … now your legs. Can you feel your legs?” Again, Chagum nodded. “Now feel the ground under your feet. How about it? Can you feel it? The hard earth?”
Balsa felt Chagum gradually stop trembling. He had been standing on tiptoe, as if straining to drift away, but now he relaxed and his heels slowly returned to the ground. She felt him shift his weight onto his legs.
“Ta-Tanda, there’s ground under my feet!”
“Of course. Bring your mind back here. Try to remember what this world looks like. You’re standing at the entrance to the hunting cave where we’ve lived all winter.” Chagum quietly opened his eyes. His face was beaded with sweat. “Can you see me?” Tanda asked.
He looked at Tanda. His gaze wavered but then gradually focused. “Yes, I can see you.”
“It’s all right. Don’t worry. Nayugu pulled you in because it became visible to you so suddenly. But you’ll be okay now. It’s just like swimming: Once you know how, it’s so easy you wonder why you had to struggle so much. Now that your mind is used to being able to see Nayugu, you should be able to control it so that you only see Sagu, if that’s what you want. Try it and see. Can you do it?”
Chagum wiped the sweat from his face. “Yes.” He heaved a large sigh, and beside him Balsa finally relaxed.
Tanda looked at her and said with feeling, “We’re very lucky you were nearby when it happened. You’ve always been able to respond instantly to danger. I doubt any ordinary person could have centered herself so quickly. It was because he had you to cling to that he was saved. On his own, he might have lost his mind.”
“I only managed it because you shouted at me,” Balsa answered. “I had no idea you could do that! With that kind of power, you would have made a good warrior, if you’d just tried a little harder.” She tried to smile.
He looked at her as if to say it was no joke, then he put his hand on Chagum’s back and gently nudged him toward the cave. “You know,” he said to Chagum, “when I looked at the egg this morning, it had grown quite a bit. That’s probably why this happened. I’m guessing that this kind of thing will happen more often, so you’ll need to learn how to calm your mind instead of panicking like you did just now. It could mean the difference between life and death.”
Chagum pressed his lips tightly together and nodded. Sweat still covered his face. He swallowed once or twice, as though trying to keep himself from vomiting, and began to shake. Then suddenly a great cry burst from his lips. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair!” Tears flew from his eyes. “Damn it! Why? Why me? Why do I have to go through this? Stupid egg! Taking over my body! I wish it would just die!”
He struck out wildly, kicking the air and the cliff and tearing at his chest, until Balsa scooped him up from behind and flung him to the ground. Thrown into the grass, he rolled, then stood up and flew at her, yelling at the top of his lungs. She braced herself
and once again he went sprawling on the ground. Again and again he flung himself at her, only to be thrown down. At last, when he could move no longer, he lay on his back in the grass where he had fallen, sobbing and gasping for breath. After some time, he sat up slowly and looked at Balsa. He was startled to see she was crying too. Without bothering to wipe away her tears, she silently took him by the arm and led him into the cave.
Tanda remained where he stood in front of the entrance. The sight he had just witnessed had brought an old memory vividly to his mind, a memory that stabbed his heart — Balsa as a young girl throwing herself, weeping and wailing, at Jiguro, who caught her and flung her head over heels to the ground. She must have felt just like Chagum did now: rage with no outlet; anger at the cruel fate she was forced to bear, at the life she had to lead. He paused suddenly in surprise. Is that why Balsa can’t stop fighting? he wondered. Is she unable to escape this cycle of bloodshed because she’s still angry deep in her soul?
He could not get the thought out of his mind. He waited until Chagum had fallen asleep and then, after some hesitation, he asked her about it. She smiled faintly as she listened. “Hmm. So you were thinking of Jiguro too,” she murmured, staring at the flickering embers in the hearth. “Rage. Yes, it’s true that there’s always some anger smoldering inside me here,” she said, rubbing her chest. “But when I was wrestling Chagum, I was thinking of something a little different. For the first time, I could understand how Jiguro must have felt when he caught me and threw me to the ground.” She looked up at him suddenly and smiled. “I guess you wouldn’t make a good warrior after all. Anger. You think that’s the reason I can’t leave bloodshed behind?” She sighed deeply. “I wish it was that simple. Tanda, the problem is that fighting is in my very bones. I don’t have any fancy, noble reason like anger at my fate. I’m just like a gamecock that launches itself into battle after meaningless battle. I like fighting. That’s why I can’t stop.”
Guardian of the Spirit Page 12
