Elin turned to him. “I beg your pardon, Lord Damiya, but I am fully aware of what it means.”
His expression changed abruptly. “Then no doubt you are equally aware that it is a crime for which the punishment is beheading.”
The Yojeh did not protest. Her gentle expression had turned cold, and there was a stern glint in her eyes as she gazed down at Elin. Damiya calmed his breathing, but his voice still resonated with suppressed anger. “Let us pretend that we did not hear what you just said. Elin, I hereby command you to take the Royal Beast and accompany the Yojeh to the capital.”
With a face drained of color, Elin gazed at the Yojeh. “…please forgive me. I beg you.”
Silence fell over the room. She heard Damiya draw a deep breath. “Did you not hear me say that you would refuse on pain of death?” The words sounded as though he were forcing them through his teeth.
Elin shook her head. “Indeed, I heard you, sir.” The air was so taut with tension that she felt it must snap at the slightest touch.
“So you’re prepared to die for this, are you?” Damiya said quietly. “But I am afraid that your life alone can hardly atone for such a heavy crime. The fault lies also with those who allowed you, who would refuse to protect the Yojeh, to care for the Royal Beasts.”
Elin could scarcely breathe. Gazing steadily at the Yojeh, she inhaled shallowly and said in a shaking voice, “To accuse the teachers who trained me of treason… such a punishment would be far worse than killing me… it would feel like being torn in two. If you wish, you can torture me like that… but you cannot make me obey you.” Just to utter those words was like spitting blood.
Looking intently at her white face, the Yojeh frowned. “Why would you refuse to protect me, even to that extreme?”
Elin inhaled slowly. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. Struggling to keep her voice steady, she said, “I would tell that reason to you alone, Your Highness.”
Damiya turned pale. “Are you saying that you can’t tell me?”
Elin ignored this outburst. “Your Majesty, you told me that you would grant me whatever I desired. If you will honor your word, then I beg you to grant me this wish. Please ask the others to leave this room.”
The Yojeh raised her hand to silence Damiya and gazed sternly at Elin. “Are you suggesting that I remain alone with someone who has just refused to protect me?”
“If you fear that I may betray you, then please keep Sir Ialu, the Se Zan, by your side.”
The Yojeh narrowed her eyes. “You mean that you trust Ialu, is that it?”
“Yes. I can trust Ialu because he used his body as a shield to save Your Majesty’s life.”
Turning to Damiya, who was demanding in a shrill voice whether Elin meant that she could not trust him, the Yojeh said quietly, “Please take the others and leave this room.”
“Aunt Halumiya!” Damiya protested, but she did not bother to repeat herself.
When the door had closed behind them, quiet descended on the room, as if a thunderous wave had receded from the shore.
“Well then, let me hear what you have to say,” the Yojeh said.
“…It will be a long tale, Your Highness,” Elin said, her voice tenuous. “May I suggest that you lie down while I speak?”
A cold smile lit the Yojeh’s eyes. “After all that, you now show concern for my well-being? Do not trouble yourself. Get on with it.”
Elin sat up straight and rested her hands on her knees. “Before I begin, allow me to ask one question. Was it not in fact in accordance with Your Majesty’s wishes that I should refuse to use the Royal Beast to protect Your Highness?”
The Yojeh looked bewildered. “My wishes?…”
At that moment, Elin, who had been watching her intently so as not to miss the slightest nuance of expression, felt her last thread of hope snap. She had thought that, if the Yojeh were forbidden to speak of the Canon and its secret purpose in front of others, she might be merely feigning ignorance, but it was clear from her answer that she simply did not know.
Apparently impatient with Elin’s silence, the Yojeh demanded, “What on earth are you getting at? Speak plainly so that I can understand.”
Elin made up her mind. If she doesn’t know, then I’ll have to start by explaining what I think about the Canon.
“I was told that it was the first Yojeh who wrote the Royal Beast Canon,” she began. “Therefore, I assumed that Your Majesty must already know why I refused to manipulate the Royal Beasts. It would seem, however, that I was mistaken.”
The Yojeh raised her brows. “The Royal Beast Canon? Yes, it was written by the first Yojeh. Is there some connection?”
Elin nodded. “Yes. If those who tend the Royal Beasts follow the procedures written in the Canon… the Beasts they raise will never fly and never bear young.”
The significance of this must have been lost on the Yojeh, for she merely gazed at Elin silently.
“The first thing we learn about caring for Royal Beasts is that they can never be tamed. The rules for their care make sure that they have no human contact. Their handlers are taught to place food in their cages when the Beasts are outside and to paralyze them with the Silent Whistle before treating them. Repeated use of the Silent Whistle and daily doses of tokujisui prevent the Beasts from sexually maturing. That is why, for several centuries, no Beasts in captivity have ever borne young.”
The Yojeh stared at her intently, as if searching for the meaning behind her words. “Are you saying that the first Yojeh purposely made the rules to prevent the Beasts from multiplying?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“It would be presumptuous of me to guess what the first Yojeh intended, but I believe that she wished, at whatever cost, to avoid repeating the catastrophe that she had experienced in her homeland.”
The Yojeh’s expression suddenly changed. Although her eyes never wavered from Elin’s face, they no longer saw her. After a long pause, she finally spoke. “So you know what happened on the far side of the Afon Noah?” Then, as if to herself, she added, “I myself do not.”
Elin looked at her in surprise. This was not what she had expected to hear. The Yojeh’s eyes were as still as glass.
“When the palace burned and my mother died, I was only three. My grandmother died of the after-effects when I was just five. I ascended to the throne knowing nothing…” Anger twisted her face. “The filthy Sai Gamulu! They took everything. My mother, my grandmother, and the memory of my people that had been passed down for three hundred years!” She clenched her age-stained hands, as though to suppress the wave of anger that disturbed her thoughts. Shakily, she took a deep breath and opened her fists, then pressed her fingers against her mouth. After a few moments, she dropped her hands and looked once again at Elin.
“My ancestor came down from the far side of the Afon Noah. That is the only memory of my people with which I was left. I do not know what gods lived in that land far across the mountains or why she left it to come here.
“Elin, how do you know what happened on the other side? Do the Ahlyo have some kind of connection to the gods?”
Elin gazed at her and said, “I do not know if the story I was told is true. But having seen firsthand the clever way in which both Royal Beasts and Toda in captivity are prevented from breeding, I feel that it is quite likely. Will Your Majesty listen? It is a very long tale.”
The Yojeh nodded. “Let me hear, no matter how long it may be.”
Elin took a deep breath, then began to speak. She told the Yojeh about her mother, about how she had commanded the Toda with her finger whistle and chosen death, because she believed this was an unpardonable sin. And she shared the terrible tale that had been told to her by the Ahlyo. She told her everything. When she finished, the Yojeh stared at her unblinking. Her face seemed tragically aged, as though Elin’s tale had sucked all the vitality from her.
“I see…” she whispered. Placing a trembling hand over her eyes, she wa
s silent for some time.
“Your Majesty…” Ialu said. It was the first time he had spoken.
His voice must have penetrated her mind, for she said hoarsely, “There’s no need for concern.” She placed her hands, still trembling, into her lap and looked at Elin. “If your tale is true…” Her words died away. She appeared to be struggling to grasp the reins of her mind in the maelstrom of her confused thoughts. Closing her eyes, she waved her hand. “You may leave me now… You shall hear from me in due course.”
Uncertain, Elin glanced at Ialu. He nodded and, with his eyes, gestured for her to leave. She bowed deeply and left the room.
*
Ialu slid forward on his knees and sat formally before the Yojeh. She opened her eyes slowly and murmured, “Ialu, you have wasted your life by serving as my Shield.”
He regarded her sternly. “If you will pardon me, Your Majesty, I must beg you never to say such things. Regardless of who the first ancestor was, Your Majesty is, without doubt, the true ruler of this kingdom.”
The Yojeh stared at him with a look of surprise. He continued quietly, “If what Elin said is true, then the previous Yojeh, and the Yojeh before her, knew. They knew, and yet they still fulfilled their duty as rulers of this land. I am Your Majesty’s shield, but it is you who are the shield of this kingdom. Without a strong and sturdy shield, this land would still be doomed, regardless of the past.”
As his words permeated her mind, she felt the familiar weight of responsibility wrap itself around her like a cloak of steel. A faint smile crossed her face. “You never lose your head, do you? Even when the pond is murky with mud and debris, you can reach in and seize the fish.”
Ialu bowed his head. “Your Majesty, while there are no other ears to hear, there is one other thing of which I must speak.”
As she listened to what he said, her eyes clouded with pain. When he had finished, however, there was no longer any doubt in her face. She might be old and hurt, but she was still the Yojeh.
*
Two days later, Elin received a message from the Yojeh. In it, she praised Elin’s service and expressed her gratitude for sharing what was in her heart. And she declared that she had no need of the Royal Beast’s protection. Ten Se Zan arrived from the capital and, with them as her guards, the Yojeh began her journey home to the palace.
If she had reached the capital safely, Elin’s fate would have been very different. However, as the Yojeh passed through the palace gate, she complained of a severe headache and fell into a coma. Although her bruises had faded and her head injury appeared to have healed, blood must have been seeping slowly into her brain. The long journey home in a jolting carriage had aggravated the damage. Carried into the palace, she never regained consciousness. Her sudden death caught everyone by surprise.
CHAPTER 8
The Gathering Storm
1 A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL
“Six, seven, eight cartloads…” the Aluhan murmured as he looked down from his window at the castle gate. He snorted. “She’s returned everything.”
Noting the vein throbbing in his father’s temple, Shunan said soothingly, “It was only to be expected. If I were in her shoes, I would not accept them either.”
The Aluhan turned slowly toward him but said nothing. The rumor that the Yojeh had been ambushed by Toda had reached his ears the morning after the attack. He had immediately dispatched messengers to the Yojeh in Kazalumu and to Princess Seimiya at the palace to deny any involvement, but they had been turned away, unable to fulfill their mission.
Again, as soon as he had learnt of the Yojeh’s passing, he had sent gold, silver, silk and other precious goods to Seimiya as mourning gifts. But now these, too, were being returned, still packed in their horse-drawn carts. Even before the carts arrived, the messenger bearing his letter of condolence had returned to say that Seimiya had refused to even let him pass through the palace gate.
“She may be the Princess,” the Aluhan said in a low voice, “But to respond like this without even attempting to verify the facts is unpardonable.” Backlit by the window, his figure was sunk in shadow. “This kingdom is doomed if its ruler can be deceived by such an obvious attempt to frame an innocent man.”
“Father—” Shunan interjected, but the Aluhan ignored him.
“Using Toda to brand us as the Yojeh’s assassins is beyond contempt. If, by any chance, the one behind this foul scheme finds a way to manipulate the crown, the kingdom will rot from the inside and perish. We cannot leave this ship on which we all sail in the hands of such a foolish captain.”
“Father!” Nugan pushed his brother aside to stand before the Aluhan. His eyes shone with outrage and his voice lashed out like a whip. “How can you be so disrespectful?! I demand that you retract your words!”
Even as Nugan spoke, the Aluhan swept his sword from its scabbard and smacked his son on the ear with the flat of the blade. Nugan fell to his knees and clutched the side of his head. Shaking with rage and astonishment, he gazed up at his father.
The Aluhan glared down at him. “It’s about time you grew up,” he said coldly. “If your short-sighted, obstinate stupidity ever threatens your brother’s position, I will not hesitate to lop off your head.” His sword whistled as he whirled it into its sheath. He turned to Shunan. “Do you have some objection too?”
Shunan shook his head. “No. It would seem that the time has come.”
At this, the Aluhan smiled. But before he could speak, Shunan added, “I believe, however, that it would be wise to allow the Princess a period of grace—to give her some time to think.”
The Aluhan frowned. “At times like this, speed means everything. It’s far more effective to respond immediately.”
Shunan shook his head. “If we were launching into battle with a foreign country that possessed an army, yes, of course. But I think this case is different.” He walked over to his younger brother, grasped him by the elbow, and helped him to his feet. “Winning this battle will be easier than snatching away a baby’s blanket. The hard part will come after.” He looked at the Aluhan. “Father, I have an idea. Would you be willing to leave it in my hands?”
A fishmonger selling his wares for the evening meal rattled by with his cart, accompanied by the high trailing note of his horn.
Ialu rested his arm on his forehead and stared at the ceiling. He had woken much earlier, but had not felt like getting up. Instead, he had lain in bed, gazing absently at the pattern of the woodgrain in the ceiling where it caught the early afternoon light. For the last ten days, from the Yojeh Halumiya’s funeral to the coronation of the new Yojeh, there had been almost no time for sleep. While everyone in the palace dashed to and fro in a state of anxious confusion, he had watched over the new Yojeh, just as always. This morning, when the night watch changed, he had not felt like returning to the antechamber set aside for the Se Zan. Instead, he had left Kailu in charge and returned to his house for the first time in weeks.
When he had fallen exhausted onto his bed, he had failed to notice the thin film of dust coating the floor and windowsills, but now he could see it plainly. His room seemed to belong to a stranger—empty but for a single chest of drawers and his woodworking tools, which had lain idle for far too long.
The emptiness that always lurked deep inside seeped slowly up his spine and spread through him, until his body felt thin and transparent. He had lived as an arrow to kill, and as a shield to block the arrows of others—that and nothing more. He had no life companion and never would. Before him lay endless days of empty solitude… At times like these, this reality, from which he could never escape, permeated his being.
The fishmonger’s voice grew suddenly fainter. He must have turned the corner.
This land… cannot possibly survive, he thought. It won’t be long before it changes forever.
Regardless of what form it took, it was no concern of his. It was not his job to ponder how the country should be. He was simply a shield to guard the Yojeh. All he needed to think a
bout was how to protect her.
Still… He closed his eyes. What should I do about that man now?
In the lord’s hall in Kazalumu, Ialu had told Yojeh Halumiya what he suspected, and she had promised to consider how to deal with it. But she had died suddenly, and he was back to where he had started. In his mind, he could still hear the fragile voice of the young Yojeh, Seimiya, as she conducted the funeral rites. He could not leave her ignorant of who had murdered her grandmother. Yet would she believe him if he told her?
He sighed. He could guess what the man planned to do with her. Unlike her grandmother, there was not much chance that he would take her life. In that sense, this case was already outside Ialu’s line of duty. Except that now he must serve as the shield of a Yojeh who was only a puppet in that man’s schemes. At this thought, a grim smile rose to his face.
Despite the nature of the life he had lived, he realized that somewhere deep inside he still yearned for a cause worth dying for. If he had to sacrifice this life, such as it was, he would still rather do it for something meaningful. But he already knew, didn’t he, the value of his life? One bag stuffed with large gold pieces. His life as a person had ended the day his mother had accepted that bag of gold.
He covered his face with his hands and, for a long time, simply listened to the sound of his own breathing.
When Seimiya returned to her room and was finally alone, she thought that now, finally, she could weep. She sat on her familiar chair and stared numbly at the floor where the late afternoon sun cast shadows through the latticed window frame. But the tears would not come.
Her grandmother’s death had been far too sudden. Even as she had performed the funeral and coronation rites, standing center stage throughout, Seimiya had felt strangely dull and removed, as though she were watching herself from a distance. That feeling did not leave her even when she was on her own. She felt as though she were in a dream where reality had no substance.
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