Ignoring them, the girl shook Elin’s hands vigorously and said, “My name’s Yuyan. Do say you’ll be my friend.” Her warm hands were large enough to envelop Elin’s. Looking at her wide-open smile, Elin found herself smiling in return.
“My name’s Elin. And, yes, let’s be friends.”
Yuyan’s eyes seemed to sparkle with joy. “There now, look at that lovely smile! You seemed kind of grownup and quiet for a while there, but when you smile, well, you’re actually pretty cute.” Then, turning to the boys, she demanded, “Don’t you think so, too?” The boys just kept on grinning, but something in their expression reminded Elin of the way a mischievous older brother might look at a younger sister. “Come on, then, dig in!” Yuyan cried. “Dig in! Before dinner gets cold!” And before the students or even the teachers had picked up their chopsticks, she had begun shoveling food into her mouth.
When a startled Elin turned her eyes from Yuyan to look at those around her, the boys laughed and then nodded at her, as if to say, “Go ahead. Eat your supper.”
From his seat beside the headmistress, Joeun watched Elin begin to eat and breathed a sigh of relief. Elin was bright, but she tended to remain aloof. And she was of Ahlyo blood. His greatest fear had been that she would feel left out at the school, but it looked like there was no need to worry.
As if reading his mind, Esalu said, “She’ll be fine with Yuyan in her group. Yuyan’s like a ray of sunshine. She does tend to be a bit hasty at times, but she’s comfortable with anyone and makes others feel comfortable with her.”
Watching the sturdy girl chattering as she ate, Joeun nodded. This was the right decision. The thought spread through him, dissolving the weight that had burdened his mind since the day his son had appeared. He felt light at heart, but it was a lightness tinged with sadness.
The next day, Elin wept when Joeun rode away in the cart. What could she say to him? How could she express all the feelings that filled her heart for this man who had rescued her from the lakeshore and raised her as if she were his own child? All she could do was to bow her head low and listen to the sound of the cartwheels growing fainter in the distance. She felt as if the happiness of being held and protected by him, the joy of their life together, was receding with him.
So much about life at Kazalumu was unfamiliar that at first Elin was bewildered. To her surprise, the hardest thing to get used to was keeping in step with the crowd of students with whom she now lived. In the dormitory, she was required to do everything at the same time as everyone else, from rising in the morning to going to bed at night. With Joeun, as long as she finished the jobs she was responsible for, she could do what she liked, but here she had almost no time for herself.
Classes covering new material were interesting, but she found those covering subjects that she had already studied with Joeun boring. When a class was stimulating, she still had to struggle because so many questions popped into her mind. With Joeun, she had been free to ask questions whenever they occurred to her, but here it seemed that no one had anything to ask. She hesitated to raise her hand when all the other students just sat and listened in silence. She found the practical lessons in caring for sick animals hard, too, because the students were only expected to remember what the teacher told them and to repeat the same tasks over and over. She could not stop to observe an animal more closely whenever something puzzled her. It was simply not allowed.
One night, Yuyan peered into her face with an anxious expression. “What’s wrong, Elin? You seem awful tired and a wee bit pale, too.”
Unlike the boys, who slept in large communal rooms, Elin and Yuyan had a small room of their own, because they were the only girls in the entire school. Before, Yuyan had had the room to herself, and Elin had worried that the sudden appearance of a roommate might have made her feel crowded. In fact, however, she seemed to be genuinely pleased. Rooming with her, Elin realized that she was indeed a very easy-going and kind-hearted person. Her only faults were a remarkable tendency to jump to conclusions and her habit of talking, loudly, in her sleep. There were times when Elin was jolted awake in the middle of the night by her friend shouting outrageous things, but the next morning the two girls always had a good laugh over what she had said. As the days went by, they became such good friends that they felt as if they had known each other all their lives.
When Yuyan expressed concern for her like this, Elin was sorry that she was such a poor talker. Unaccustomed to sharing her inner thoughts and feelings with others, she had trouble knowing how and when to confide in her friend. Yuyan, who had been raised in a mountain village on the northern edge of the Yojeh’s territory, appeared at first glance to be unconcerned by what others felt, but in fact she was quite empathetic and quick to notice when anyone was anxious or in distress.
“I ’spose it’s only to be expected. After all, you’ve been gathering up Beast dung with the young ones. They’re such a noisy bunch, you must be exhausted.”
Elin smiled and shook her head. “No, really, I quite enjoy working with the younger kids… That’s not what’s bothering me.” Hesitantly, she shared her discovery that she found it hard to adjust herself to the pace of others.
Yuyan listened, her eyes wide, as Elin haltingly explained her confusion and her struggle to cope. When she finished, Yuyan gave a low whistle. “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s what’s bugging you? Now who would’ve guessed just from looking at you? The boys’re always talking about how mature you are. They think you’re pretty special to fit right in even though you came in the middle of the term.”
Elin was amazed. It had never occurred to her that others would see her that way.
Yuyan laughed. “What? You mean you didn’t even notice? The guys can’t take their eyes off you, Elin. You’ve got Ahlyo blood, right? It makes you kind of mysterious, sort of special, you see.” She spoke frankly. “Y’know, Elin, the headmistress told us to ignore that you’re part Ahlyo, but I think she’s expecting an awful lot. It’s only human to notice when someone’s different, right? If it were me, I’d say that instead of ignoring it, we ought to tell people not to be so dumb as to take those differences in the wrong way. That’s what really counts.”
Yuyan had been gazing steadily at her the whole time she was speaking, and Elin nodded. “I think so, too. That’s far more important.”
Yuyan’s face lit up. “You see? Take me, for instance. I talk funny, right? The guys used to laugh at me when I first came here, but then, you know Kashugan?”
Elin blinked and had to think for a moment before she recalled a tall boy with a long face. “Ah! I know who you mean. The one whose sash is always crooked.”
Yuyan laughed. “Yup. That’s him all right. No good at tying his sash. But, what I was trying to say was, one day he told the others that they weren’t right to laugh at me. He told them the way people speak depends on where they’re brought up. ‘You wouldn’t like it if someone laughed at the way your folks spoke either,’ he said.”
Elin smiled. “Really? He’s very kind, isn’t he?”
“You bet! And isn’t that just the nicest thing someone could do? So, Elin, I’m not going to ignore the fact that you’re part Ahlyo, because it makes no difference what color your eyes are. You are who you are, and that’s all that matters.”
Elin was startled to find her eyes filling with tears. Before she could stop them, they were flowing down her cheeks. Looking flustered, Yuyan clasped Elin’s hand. “No, don’t cry now. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’m always too blunt.”
Staring at the ground, Elin shook her head. “…I’m sorry.” She wanted desperately to stop her tears, but it was impossible. She wiped her eyes roughly and shook her head repeatedly. For the first time in her life, she realized how deeply she had been hurt by people’s reactions to her Ahlyo heritage. The way her grandfather, the way Joeun’s son had looked at her had cut her to the core.
Yuyan’s truly amazing, she thought. Her grandfather, who had stood by and let the Toda attack his g
randchild, might have the high rank of Chief Toda Steward, but compared to Yuyan, he was no better than trash. She wiped her eyes again and looked at Yuyan. “Thank you.” No other words came to her, but Yuyan, her eyes full of tears, nodded.
4 THE BEAST WHISTLE
Despite Yuyan’s concern, Elin really did not mind collecting dung with the first-level students or mucking out the stalls of the sick animals entrusted to the school from neighboring farms. True, at just twelve years of age, the younger students were still a bit immature. They complained boisterously that the manure was “gross” and “stinky”, and their idea of cleaning was to spread the muck around rather than to make things cleaner, so that Elin usually ended up finishing the job herself. Yet she found this job a welcome diversion.
What made her happiest was the fact that she got to see the Royal Beasts every day. Only the older students were permitted to care for the Beasts, but while they were let loose in a large pasture during the day, the younger students gathered the dung from their quarters and spread out fresh straw. Whenever she saw the Beasts in the distance, Elin felt her heart sing. They stood in the gently rolling pasture, napping in the warm spring sunshine and flapping their wings leisurely every so often. When she first saw them, something about them seemed different from the Royal Beasts that she had observed every year in the wild. Yet at the time she could not put her finger on what it was.
“Royal Beasts never grow accustomed to human beings.” Their teacher drilled this lesson into them. “They may seem calm and peaceful, but when roused their rage is terrible. You must never let down your guard when you approach them.” In a quiet voice, he related the tale of a boy who, thirteen years ago, had approached too close to a Royal Beast. He had been torn to shreds in seconds. The first-level students shuddered at this story. As she listened, Elin recalled the scene she had witnessed on the rock ledge several years ago. For fangs that could slice effortlessly through the impervious scales of a Toda, a human body would seem as soft as lard.
“You must never go near the Royal Beasts until you are in the upper level and have acquired enough knowledge and experience. Do you understand?” So saying, the teacher slowly drew a small whistle from his robe. Elin’s eyes opened wide in surprise. It looked just like the one that her mother had used. “This is a Silent Whistle. It makes no sound even when you blow it, but it will cause the Royal Beasts to freeze. The upper level students carry one with them at all times and use it when there is a need. This is the only tool we have with which we can control the Royal Beasts. Remember that.”
One student raised his hand. “How far does the whistle reach?”
“About ten paces. If you are further away than that, you should assume that the whistle won’t have any effect.”
Elin felt as though the teacher’s voice was coming from very far away. She had never dreamt that people would manipulate Royal Beasts with the silent whistle, just like the Toda. Her heart sank as she listened.
The first time she saw the whistle being used was about a month after she had come to the school. In the morning, the weather was fair, but a little after midday dark clouds suddenly covered the sky and strong gusts of wind began to blow. Elin’s group was laying out straw in the Beast quarters when a burly youth came racing inside and yelled at them to hurry.
“Quick! There’s a thunderstorm coming and the Beasts will be back soon.”
At the sound of thunder, Royal Beasts instinctively sought shelter, which in the Sanctuary meant the stables rather than a rocky ledge under an overhang where they would have roosted in the wild. The older students, who were aware of this habit, feared that they might be trapped inside when the Beasts returned. The younger students hurriedly finished laying the straw and were about to leave when the youth, who had been watching the pasture, pushed them back. “Wait! Don’t go out yet! One of them is almost here.” He glanced at his companion. “It’s all right to use it, isn’t it?”
The other nodded. “It’s an emergency. Do it.”
The first youth raised the whistle to his lips and blew on it sharply. It made no sound, but looking out of the window Elin saw a Beast that had been running full tilt toward them stop dead in its tracks as if it had hit an invisible wall. It toppled slowly over, and remained as still as stone, even when it struck the ground. Lightning flashed across the sky, and the inert Beast glowed white in the darkness. A heavy rain fell, pummeling its body and drenching its fur, yet still it did not move.
Elin felt goosebumps rise on her skin. The sight chilled her to the bone. She had seen her mother blow the whistle and freeze the Toda many times, but never before had she felt like this.
That whistle kills the Beasts. These words flashed through her mind like lightning.
Within less than ten han (about ten minutes), the Beast began to twitch and, under the anxious gaze of the students who had escaped outside the enclosure, it slowly rose and made its way inside. But those words and the image of its motionless form, struck by the rain, remained seared on Elin’s mind long after.
*
The words rose into her mind again one day near summer as she stood leaning against the fence and watching the Royal Beasts. By this time she had realized what was so different about the Beasts at the sanctuary—their fur. They lacked the dazzling brilliance that had radiated from the wild Beasts as they soared overhead, backlit by the morning sun. The fur of the Beasts here was dull and lackluster, a far cry from the breathtakingly beautiful radiance of their wild counterparts.
Was it because they were hurt or diseased? Or did the Beasts change when raised in captivity? The teachers had taught her that when raised by men from infancy, they never flew. As she gazed at the Beasts standing in the pasture and recalled the powerful strokes of the wild Beasts’ wings as they had sped through the sky, a cold, dry wind seemed to blow through her heart.
The words her mother had said as she threw the Silent Whistle into the fire came back to her now. It’s not taking care of the Toda that I mind… It’s that whistle. I’ve always hated using it. I hate watching the Toda freeze whenever I blow it… To see beasts controlled by humans is a miserable thing. In the wild, they would be masters of their own destiny. I can’t bear watching them grow steadily weaker when they live among men.”
Lost in the recollection of her mother’s face in the hearth light, of her low voice as she spoke, Elin did not notice that someone was approaching, even when the sound of footsteps was right behind her.
“You’re watching the Beasts?”
The sound of Esalu’s voice jolted her back to the present. The headmistress stood beside her, gazing at the Beasts. “I often see you standing here watching. Do you like them?”
“…Yes.”
Esalu shifted her gaze to Elin’s face. “You don’t seem very happy when you look at them though.”
At first, Elin did not know how to respond, but then she remembered how Joeun had described the headmistress. She was possessed by the Royal Beasts, he had said. Before she knew it, she had blurted out, “…because I feel sorry for these ones that are raised in captivity.”
Esalu raised her eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”
Elin turned away from Esalu to look at the Beasts. “I’ve seen them in the wild. Their fur isn’t dull and lifeless like this. They soar in the heavens on their powerful wings, and their fur gleams like silver in the sun.”
Esalu’s eyes widened. “You what? You mean you’ve actually seen Royal Beasts in the wild?”
Startled by the force of her voice, Elin turned to look at her. “…Yes.”
“Where?”
Her tone was sharp and Elin felt her throat tighten. “…Mount Kasho. There was a nest on a precipice overlooking a ravine.”
Esalu frowned. “Mount Kasho? What were you doing so deep in the mountains? No one lives up there.”
“We were beekeeping. Joeun’s summer hut is up there. We spent every summer on the mountain.”
“Ah, I see.” Esalu’s expression relaxed. “Yes
, beekeepers have to follow the flowers up the mountain in summer, don’t they?”
Why had Esalu reacted like that, Elin wondered. “Is there something wrong with seeing Beasts in the wild?” she asked.
Esalu shook her head. “No, not at all. In fact, it’s very fortunate. You see, it’s extremely rare for anyone to see wild Beasts. I doubt if anyone but the Beast Hunters has ever seen them. When I was younger, I wanted to find some so badly that I climbed quite a few mountains myself, but I never saw any. I sought out the Beast Hunters as well, hoping that they would tell me where to look, but for them, that knowledge is like a goldmine, and they weren’t willing to share it with anyone.”
She looked at the Beasts standing in the pasture. “Is their fur really that different from those in the wild?”
“Yes. The fur of wild Beasts shines in different shades depending on the light that hits them. The color looks different in the morning light than at noon. But the fur of the Beasts here never changes. Perhaps they’re missing some essential element in their fur that makes it shine.”
Esalu remained silent, as if lost in thought, her eyes on the Beasts. Then she raised her arm and pointed at each one in turn. “That one on the left flapping his wings, that’s Naku. He has weak intestines and needs a special diet. Tosaku beside him has a tumor in his large intestine and probably won’t last more than a few months. Sattoku on the right has a disease that softens the claws and fangs.”
She turned to look at Elin. “It could be that their fur doesn’t shine because they’re ill… Or it could be something more than that.” She watched Elin intently, obviously thinking, and then said in a quiet voice, “If you observed the Royal Beasts here carefully, do you think you would be able to identify other differences between them and Beasts in the wild?”
The Beast Player Page 14
