The Beast Player

by Nahoko Uehashi

Yuyan let out a deep breath. Stroking her chin and trying to act casual, she said, “So, um, you didn’t hear me say anything, did you?”

  “No, nothing at all… Not even the name Kashugan.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Elin doubled over, clutching her stomach and quivering with suppressed laughter.

  Yuyan gave her a playful kick. “Hey! How dare you laugh at me?” She pummeled Elin’s back with her fists, then hugged her as the two of them rolled on the floor, breathless with laughter.

  Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and the door slid open with a snap.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?! It’s the middle of the night!” Kalisa, the dorm mother, stood in the doorway. She must have jumped out of bed because she was still in her nightdress.

  The girls hastily knelt on the floor. “Sorry!”

  When she saw Elin, Kalisa’s eyebrows flew up. “Elin? I thought you were staying in the stable. I’m sure I locked the doors. How did you get in?”

  Elin cringed. “I’m very sorry… There was something I really needed… I didn’t want to disturb you, so I climbed in the window.”

  “The window? But this is the second floor!” She must have noticed the branch outside the window then because she suddenly lost her voice. After a moment, she said, “…You didn’t… Well… In all my twenty years as a dorm mother, you’re the first girl who has ever snuck in by climbing that tree.” She gave Elin a stern look. “How could you be so reckless? I thought you were a good girl, but I guess I was wrong. I’ll let you off this time, but don’t you ever try that again! Do you hear me? Think what could have happened if that branch had broken.”

  “…I promise. I won’t do it again.”

  Kalisa sighed and left the room, shaking her head.

  Alone again, Elin and Yuyan looked at each other. Their fit of hysterical giggles had passed, leaving in its wake a gentle tickle of amusement in their bellies.

  “So what did you come back for?”

  Yuyan’s question reminded Elin of why she was here. She jumped to her feet and opened the door to her closet. Behind her, she heard the sound of two stones being struck together to make a spark, and within moments, Yuyan had lit a lamp. Elin pulled out the bag containing her small harp.

  Peering over her shoulder, Yuyan said, “What’s that? Oh! A harp!”

  Elin stroked it softly. Of the three harps she had once made with such passion, this was her favorite. When she had lived with Joeun, she had played it often in her spare time, but for the last two months she had not even touched it. Since coming to the school, all her energy had been spent on getting used to her new life.

  “I made this myself,” she murmured as she stroked it.

  “You made it? That’s amazing. I never knew you could make a harp.”

  “It’s nothing compared to what a craftsman could do.” She began plucking a few phrases of a favorite tune and noticed that the strings had loosened since she had last played it. It sounded slightly different from the pitch of the Royal Beasts in the wild.

  “That’s lovely,” Yuyan said with a blissful smile, but Elin shook her head.

  “No, this won’t do.” She frowned as she plucked the strings one by one. While the tone was similar to the sounds the Royal Beasts had made, it was not quite right. To Leelan, it might not sound like the same language.

  When she shared this thought with Yuyan, she looked puzzled. “But why wouldn’t it work?” she asked. “It might be a little different, but wouldn’t it still be recognizable? I mean, look at us. You and I don’t have the same accent, but we still understand each other.”

  “I know. But somehow I don’t think it’s going to work. We can recognize words as words because we can tell the difference between sounds like ‘eh’ and ‘lee’. Human languages have an incredible number of very distinct sounds. But the Beasts only seem to have a few. The differences are in pitch and length, and the echo after the note, as well as the order in which those sounds are made. But the differences are so slight that, at first, the notes sound the same. If the Beasts can pick up meaning from such tiny differences as these, then even the smallest deviation might make a sound meaningless.”

  Yuyan grunted. “Well, I guess the only way to find out is to try it and see,” she said.

  Elin nodded. There was no guarantee that she could even tune her harp close enough to those notes. It would be a long process, and there was no time to waste on complaining about it. She would just have to try. She stood up.

  Yuyan looked startled. “You’re not going back there now, are you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Yuyan frowned. “Elin, you just can’t let something go once you get started, can you? But you’re not indestructible, you know. Remember to take care of yourself, will you?”

  Elin smiled. “Thanks, Yuyan.”

  Leelan did not budge, even when Elin opened the stable door and walked inside. Her heart began to pound as she readied her harp and faced that black shadow. Taking a deep breath, she plucked the string that was closest to the sound she remembered, a low middle tone. The note reverberated in the silence.

  Lon…

  The Beast cub moved faintly, as if the sound had disturbed its sleep, but it did not open its eyes or show any interest. Elin tried a few more times, but the cub only shifted slightly, as if annoyed, without opening its eyes.

  Elin’s shoulders slumped, and she exhaled slowly. She had expected a more dramatic response. While she knew the sound was not exactly the same as the mother Beast’s, she had expected Leelan to respond, just as a person in a foreign land might turn to look if she heard a word that resembled her own language.

  I guess I was wrong.

  She crouched down. The disappointment was worse because she had put so much effort into this. Still cradling the harp in one arm, she pulled the blanket around her and curled up inside. She had barely noticed the hard, cold floor before, but now it seemed to bite into her shoulders. She hugged the harp to her chest, as if to stem the despair that beat in her heart, and closed her eyes. Once asleep, her dreams were disjointed and meaningless.

  When she woke, the morning light was shining into the stable. She was trembling with cold.

  I forgot to put the plank back on the wall. The draft must have chilled my neck and back. I’ll have to remember to put it back on tonight.

  She had slept with the harp in her arms, and it had left a mark imprinted on her chin. She stroked the spot thoughtfully and raised her eyes to look at Leelan. As usual, the cub sat motionless. The straw beneath it was filthy. If she couldn’t do anything else, she might as well clean its stall. It was unfortunate that she would have to use the silent whistle, but it would be worse to leave the stall like this.

  She sat up and hugged her knees. Still cold, she kept the blanket wrapped around her and touched the harp. Did the sound that the cub’s mother made come from its chest? If so, perhaps it was not a clear ringing tone, but rather duller, resonating inside its body. She might be able to reproduce that sound if she loosened the string a little. She plucked the string absently.

  Lon…

  Leelan’s eyes popped open. Elin started and stared at the cub. Its blinking, golden eyes were fixed on her.

  Elin plucked the string once more. The cub was still staring at her. It did not react any further, but she had clearly gotten its attention.

  What?… Why?

  It had not responded at all last night. Why was it responding now? What was different? Yesterday it had been sleeping. Maybe it hadn’t heard her. Had it responded now because it was awake? Or…

  Elin looked at her hands. She was holding the harp inside the blanket. She felt the hairs rise on the nape of her neck. Maybe that’s why… Had the muffled sound from under the blanket been closer to how the note sounded in its mother’s body?

  Elin closed her eyes and plucked the string again. She listened intently. Yes, it’s close.

  It was much closer to the sound she remembered, but something still wasn’t
quite right. Leelan seemed to feel the same way. Now that it had grown used to the sound, the cub closed its eyes, as if it were tired. Elin bit her lip. Leelan had reacted to the harp. If she could just produce the same sound as its mother, she was sure the cub would respond to her. But how could she do that? When she plucked the harp inside the blanket, it was muffled, but the sound she remembered had more resonance. If she could just get a little more tension, if she could pluck the string inside something like a drum, she might get closer. She stood up with the blanket still draped over her shoulders.

  “You want permission to leave the school?” Esalu had just returned to her office after breakfast. Resting one hand on her desk, she lowered herself into her seat and looked up at Elin. “Where do you want to go and why?”

  “I want to go to the town at the bottom of the hill. I saw an instrument maker there when Uncle Joeun and I were passing through on our way here. I’d like to go as soon as possible.”

  “You want to go to an instrument maker?”

  Elin licked her lips. “There’s something I want to try.”

  Esalu watched her as she explained what had happened since yesterday. The girl kept running her thumb over a red mark on her chin, as if nervous about what the headmistress would think. When she had finished, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. Esalu brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I had heard that Royal Beasts make that kind of sound. You remember that I once went to see some Beast Hunters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, at that time, a veteran hunter told me that Royal Beasts in the wild make a different sound from those in captivity. He, too, said it sounded like a harp string.”

  Elin nodded. “Yes, it does.”

  Esalu continued to gaze steadily at her. “But even if you can reproduce that sound, isn’t it a bit simplistic to think that you’ll be able to communicate with a Royal Beast?”

  A faint blush crept into Elin’s cheeks. “I’m not expecting to be able to talk to Leelan with a harp,” she said passionately. “Beasts don’t think or feel the same way that people do. So even if I could understand the words they used, I don’t think I could have a conversation with them. But it should still be possible to communicate very simple things, just like with a dog or a horse. If a dog is trained to understand the command to wait, it will wait until we tell it to eat. I’ve heard that Royal Beasts are very smart. If that’s true, then we should be able to teach them at least the same things that a dog can understand.”

  Esalu shook her head. “Elin, dogs live in packs that have a very clear hierarchy. Communication with members of the pack is crucial. If they recognize a human as their master, they will obey. Bonds of trust can be formed… But Royal Beasts are not the same. They don’t live in packs; they’re solitary creatures. They will never grow accustomed to people, and they will never form bonds of trust.”

  “But the Beasts I saw in the wild often spoke to their young. Dogs or horses tend to communicate more through touch, but the Royal Beasts seemed to communicate through that harp-like sound quite a lot.”

  Esalu’s eyes narrowed, but Elin leant forward. “Miss Esalu, you told me to look for the differences between Royal Beasts in the wild and those in captivity. Well, this is a remarkable difference. I want to know why. Why don’t Beasts in captivity make the same sounds as Beasts in the wild?

  “Also, Leelan was definitely asking me something. I want to know what she was trying to say.”

  Esalu ran a finger across her lips and gazed blankly at the bookcase, as if pondering something. “All right,” she said finally. “Go ahead and try it.” She pulled open a drawer and took out a piece of paper with some writing on it and a bag of coins. “Use these. There are fifty copper pieces in here. If that’s not enough, give them this promissory note. It should be worth the loan of a small piece of silver because it’s from the school. But don’t buy anything that costs more than that.”

  Elin bowed happily. “Thank you so much!”

  Esalu nodded without smiling. “Can you ride a horse? It will take two toh on foot.”

  “Yes, I can ride.”

  “Then ask one of the custodians to lend you a horse. Be careful, and make sure you’re back before curfew.”

  “I will.”

  2 TURNING POINT

  A shadow fell across Elin’s hands. “There you go again, making something weird. What’s that?” She did not look up. Although she heard Tomura’s voice, it registered as meaningless sounds rather than as words. Her full attention was focused on trying to decide whether to directly cover the wooden frame of the harp in leather, or to bend a curved bamboo piece along either side of the frame and stretch the leather around them.

  She had not been able to get as much leather as she would have liked. If she made a mistake, she would have to go back and buy more. While it would be more work, it would be easier to adjust the sound if she stretched the leather across an outer frame of bamboo. This would also mean that she could use the leather as a single large piece. Then, if that didn’t work, she could try the other method and cut the leather into smaller pieces without worrying about running out.

  “All right then. That’s decided,” she murmured. She picked up two thin bamboo sticks she had gotten from a bamboo artisan. From the instrument maker, she had managed, after much persuasion, to purchase a piece of unscraped cowhide for making drum leather, as well as a piece of scraped hide that had already been stretched and dried across a drum shell. The latter would resonate better, but Elin decided to try the unscraped cowhide first.

  It was too dark in the stable for this job, and she was longing for some sunlight, so she had spread a cloth on the grass outside. It was a bright sunny day, warm enough to raise a light sweat as she worked, and a reminder that spring was almost over. She clamped the bottom end of the bamboo frame between her toes and placed the top end against the harp, nicking the spot with her knife to mark it. It was not just the strings but the wooden frame of the harp that resonated. What she was about to do would change her harp permanently. The thought that it would never sound the same again brought a twinge of regret.

  She continued working steadily. By the time she had finished, the late afternoon sun had dyed the world with golden light. A leather pouch, curved by the bamboo, now stretched around the right side of her harp. Placing it on her knees, she closed her eyes and plucked a string.

  Lon…

  Resonating within the hide, the sound was muffled. Elin frowned with concentration, eyes still closed as she followed the note. It was close, much closer than before. There was a slight difference in pitch, but the way it resonated was very like the sound that the mother Beast had made. A slow smile spread across her face. This just might work. If she adjusted the tuning slightly, she should be able to get even closer to the sound she wanted.

  She let out the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes. They felt raw, and the muscles at the back of her skull were so tight, they gave her a slight headache. She looked around and frowned in puzzlement. A breeze passed gently across the twilit meadow. Somehow, she had had the impression that Tomura was standing beside her, but no one was there. In fact, he had left long ago in disgust because, no matter what he said, Elin only responded with vague noises. She had no recollection of when he had come to stand beside her, or when he had left.

  Her back and knees were stiff from sitting so long. She grimaced as she stood up. Holding the experimental harp, she looked toward the stable. Considering Leelan’s physical condition, she should really test it now. But her legs would not move.

  What if this doesn’t work either? She sighed. She would call it a day and try tomorrow when it was light. It was almost time for Leelan to sleep anyway. She knew that she was just avoiding it, but still she packed up her tools silently and returned to the dormitory for supper.

  “Miss Esalu! Miss Esalu!”

  At the sound of Tomura’s urgent voice outside her door, Esalu stopped writing and raised her head. “Come i
n.”

  No sooner had she spoken than the door slid open violently. Tomura burst into the room, his face pale except for two bright spots in his cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?” Esalu asked, frowning.

  With trembling lips, Tomura said, “…the cub… It’s eating. Leelan is eating!”

  Esalu’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

  “Please, come. Come and see.”

  Esalu rose and ushered Tomura, who was all but hopping up and down, out of the room. When the cub’s stable came into sight, the first thing she noticed was a large hole in the wall. Following her gaze, Tomura hastily explained. “Oh… I should have reported to you sooner, but I widened the hole yesterday. Elin asked me to.”

  “That must let in a lot more light. Doesn’t it frighten Leelan?”

  “No, not at all. Leelan’s not afraid of light anymore.”

  Esalu pursed her lips and approached the stable door. It was much brighter inside than in the other stables. The acrid smell of dung and urine stung her nostrils, but this barely registered. The sight before her brought her to a standstill, her heart in her throat.

  Elin was standing on the other side of the bars, face to face with Leelan. In her hands she held some strange instrument with which she produced a soft sound. Lon, lon. The Beast cub held down a large piece of meat with its feet and bobbed its head up and down as it tore off chunks and swallowed them.

  Esalu stared, forgetting to breathe. The early summer light shone brightly on the filthy straw, on the giant cub, and on the slight figure of Elin, who only came up as high as the cub’s shoulder. With each jerk of Leelan’s head, dust particles danced in the air.

  Elin’s face was expressionless, her eyes half closed as if all her attention was focused on the sounds she was making. Leelan gobbled down the last lump of meat and then cried in a wheedling tone. Shashasha. Elin walked slowly backwards, plucking her harp—Lon, lon, lon—as if in response, and then ducked her head through the gate of the enclosure. She did not close it, but instead stood on the other side of the bars, quietly and slowly plucking the string. The cub’s head swayed as if in time with the harp. Then its eyes grew glazed and sleepy, just like a baby with a full belly and no fear in the world.