One of them stepped toward her, an elder judging by her curved spine. She pushed back her hood, revealing a shock of white hair. Even in the faint light, Elin could see the woman’s startling resemblance to her mother.
“Elin, daughter of Sohyon, granddaughter,” she said. “We have come to take you home. Come with us.”
Elin’s skin prickled from her forehead to the nape of her neck. “Where?” she asked hoarsely.
“To where your people are… If you stay here and go on like this, you’ll end up making a terrible mistake. Come and live with us.”
A quiet chill spread through Elin’s chest, as if the night air were soaking into her skin. Ah… so that’s it… she thought. They had come to take her away, away from the circle of people with whom she had spent her entire life, to wander for the rest of her days with them. If she went, she could close the door before she caused a catastrophe. Yet even at that thought, her heart remained cold and unmoved.
She shook her head. “I do not wish to go with you.”
Sorrow and hurt flickered across her grandmother’s face, and Elin felt a stab of pain in her chest. The silent disapproval and fierce disappointment radiating from the gray hoods, the grief of countless ancestral ghosts milling in the darkness, rolled over her in a heavy, aching wave that pulled her skin tight.
“Will you choose the path of sin? Will you open the door to calamity?” her grandmother demanded in a shaking voice. “Is that how you were raised?” Her eyes probed Elin’s, but when it became clear that Elin had no intention of responding, her shoulders fell, and she sighed. “I see… Sohyon’s spirit must surely regret having saved your life.”
Her words shot through Elin like a lightning bolt. Fixing her eyes on her grandmother’s face, she took a deep breath. “My mother gave her life to save mine. If she were really the type to regret that act, then I would hate you for having raised her that way.” She had to force the words through clenched teeth. Her grandmother cringed, as if she had been slapped. “I know what my mother, and what you, too, call a ‘sin’… I can understand that you have made tremendous sacrifices and adhered to the law to avert disaster. But I despise the way you use the word ‘sin’ to manipulate others.”
Feelings locked deep inside her suddenly rushed from her mouth as if a dam had been broken. “You use that word to paralyze the mind, just like we use the Silent Whistle to freeze the Beasts and Toda. I can’t bear to see people bind others like that.”
A gray-hooded man stepped forward and placed a hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “Let us go,” he said in a low voice. “There is no saving her. She believes that what she feels is more important. She will not listen, no matter what you say.”
Elin felt her grandmother’s eyes questioning her. Pain stung her heart, but she kept her face expressionless, as a deep despair spread across her grandmother’s features. Silently, she watched as her mother’s people turned away from her with anger and loathing.
The night breeze, warm and humid, blew across the empty field. Elin looked up at the sky. Stars were strewn across it like grains of silver sand. She wept, unable to dislodge the heaviness that stuck like a thick plank in her chest.
Mother… Do you regret raising me this way? Is the path I am taking so wrong? Unlike Seimiya, I can choose which path to take.
Since the day she had decided not to use the Silent Whistle to control Leelan, she had simply chosen the path that felt right. She had longed to raise these creatures, who were born in the wild, the same way they would have been raised if they had been left in the wild. But she had loved Leelan. She had been thrilled by the bond that grew between them as they crossed the wall that separated beast from man. She knew that she was here, now, as a result of that choice, but she just could not believe that what she had done was a sin worthy of death. Even so, the emptiness that gnawed at her chest did not fade away.
Where would her love for Leelan, the tentative, step-by-step efforts she had made to get closer to her, lead her now? Had it all been for nothing, just self-gratification?
Perhaps.
Esalu had probably been right—the one emotion all living creatures shared was not love, but fear. This, most likely, was the hard truth. Men, beasts, all sentient beings that inhabited the planet, were incapable of trust. Somewhere in their hearts, they would always harbor the fear of others. To ensure their own survival, they would continue to devise ways to dominate and control.
Only by binding each other with force, with laws, with religious precepts… and with the Silent Whistle, do we finally feel safe…
No matter how hard I study the nature of living things, in the end, that’s all I will find—just this empty futility.
Even if she returned to Kazalumu safely, how could she ever stand in front of a class to teach? What could she possibly say to her students if the nature of living creatures only made her feel hopeless?
Humans, beasts, bugs—all are but tiny pricks gleaming in the night—a herd of countless points of light, bound in the darkness of distrust.
She gazed up at the star-spangled sky as she listened to Leelan purr contentedly behind her.
CHAPTER 9
The Beast Player
1 DAWN
The wind, which had picked up in the middle of the night, did not abate even at dawn, rattling the tent cloth incessantly. Shunan had woken long ago, but he lay in bed listening to the groaning of the wind. His father, who lay in the tent beside his, must be listening to it, too. It sounded like someone choking back tears.
Flowing as it did between heaven and earth, did the wind voice the wailing of the ghosts scattered on Tahai Azeh so long ago? Or was it the bitter resentment that must lie in the breast of that willowy maiden who would bring to a close the history begun on this field three centuries past?
Shunan took a deep breath and sat up. He dressed without summoning his servants and stood up to leave, when he noticed a slip of paper on the tent floor. Picking it up, he ran his eyes over the three lines.
We have been waiting long for this day to come. We convey our joy and swear once again our steadfast allegiance. Though we stand in the shadows, we will guard you.
It bore a seal in the shape of a Toda scale—the seal of the Sai Gamulu. He crumpled it in his fist.
A shadow moved outside the tent, and he heard the voice of a loyal retainer. “Are you awake, my Lord?”
He went outside to find the retainer standing there with a worried frown.
“What is it?”
“As I reported earlier, my Lord, last night the Yojeh’s men erected tents on the hill. I have come to inform you that just before dawn, under cover of darkness, a huge cart was drawn up the hill and taken into one of them.”
Holding back his hair, which was whipped by the wind, Shunan looked up at the hill. The contours of the earth, pregnant with the sun, glowed faintly, and the gentle slope rose black against the sky. On top of the hillock he could see the small shadows of tents.
“Rumor claims,” the servant continued, “that when Her Highness Halumiya was attacked by Toda, a Royal Beast swooped down from the sky to protect her.”
Shunan stood silent, his gaze fathomless as he looked at the hill.
“If they have brought a Royal Beast here—”
At these words a smile rose to his lips. “Soldiers corpses filled the plain and a cry of sorrow rose to the heavens,” he recited in a low voice. “Behold! The golden-haired goddess descends from far across the Afon Noah. Toda bow their heads to make her path, Royal Beasts soar in the heavens, protecting her…” He looked at his servant.
“We have not come here to do battle. We have come to confirm the will of the gods. Let us stand and witness whether the Royal Beast has indeed come to perform a miracle and save the Yojeh.”
Watching his father emerge from the tent beside his, he said calmly, “The time has come. Prepare the troops.”
While Shunan gazed up at the hill, Ialu woke from a light doze. He was perched in an old tree in the woo
d that covered the southern slope. It was a sturdy tree, with thick roots, but the wind had rocked it all night long, so that slapping branches kept him awake.
If this wind doesn’t die down…
It would severely impair his aim with bow and arrow. Although it was risky, he would have to get closer. As promised, Shunan had gathered his troops at the foot of the hill. He had brought about a third of the entire army, leaving the rest under his younger brother Nugan’s command, but it was still an imposing force. That sobering sight should distract the Yojeh’s men enough to let one man disguised as a Se Zan pass unnoticed.
Kailu had been worried about Ialu as he knew he had been investigating Damiya for some time. A sense of impending doom hung over the palace, and everything that had once seemed solid now seemed precarious. Walking on shaky ground, where even the meaning of loyalty was no longer clear, Kailu had begun to fear that he would die as the Yojeh’s shield on Tahai Azeh. Although he was troubled by his own wavering doubts at this time when loyalty was most in question, he had still brought Ialu a Se Zan uniform, just as he had asked.
“I don’t know what you’re intending to do,” he had said, “but just knowing that you’ll be there with us gives me a little courage.”
Ialu had taken the bundle of clothes with a wry smile. “In this situation, I’m about as useless as a piece of straw caught in a gigantic wave…” His face sobering, he had added quietly, “But I was picked up and thrown onto this path without any choice. I’d like to at least see how it ends.”
That was true. Although he had no idea of what he could do, he wished to see with his own eyes what unfolded today on Tahai Azeh, and to choose his own actions.
The image of the late Halumiya, tall and regal, floated into his mind. When he had first met her, he had been surprised at how tall she was. She had favored him with a gentle smile, but he had remained motionless, head bowed. Something about her had inspired awe and discouraged familiarity.
His sole purpose in life had been to protect her, but he had failed, and she had died. She must have felt such regret. How bitter it must have been to leave this world so abruptly, foisting such a heavy burden on her granddaughter, who is still so young.
While he knew that affairs of state are never governed by compassion, Ialu found that he could not forgive Damiya for the heartless murder of his own kin.
The sky through the branches above his head slowly turned from ultramarine to pale purple. No matter how this day ended, tomorrow, the dawn would come again. He closed his eyes. Elin must be in the tent on the hillock by now. He wondered how she felt. He stayed there a long time, his eyes closed, listening to the wind.
2 UNEXPECTED MUSIC
“The sun has risen,” said a voice from outside the tent. The cloth covering the entrance was raised and propped up on both sides. As Seimiya stepped through the opening, a swirling gust of wind, fragrant with grass, set her robe fluttering. She gasped at the sight in front of her.
Countless shafts of light burst through the clouds to fall on a plain that stretched as far as the eye could see. Although the clouds were gray and sullen, they glowed dull silver where the sun lay behind them, and trailed across the sky in the wind. She felt as if her soul would ride that wind and be carried across that great expanse.
“There’s no need to weep, Seimiya,” a gentle voice said. Unnoticed, Damiya had come up beside her, where he stood protectively. It was only at his words that she realized tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I admit it’s rather overwhelming to see so many Toda gathered in one spot, but remember, that is your army, Seimiya. You have no need to fear.”
She shook her head. “…I was not looking at the Toda.”
It seemed strange that she could have missed them, but until that moment, she had not even noticed the massive army. Row upon row of black-scaled beasts with warriors astride them, resplendent in their armor, and thousands of banners flapping in the wind—all these had been nothing more than part of the scenery. It was the glory of heaven and earth itself that had moved her heart. The land which she was seeing for the first time in her life, the land in which she had been born, was majestic, beautiful and, most of all, incredibly vast.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, one by one. How pitiful that she had never been allowed to see the land she ruled. How pathetic the rank of ruler. This knowledge struck her forcibly, and she could not stop the tears from falling.
The wind must have changed direction. The scent of Toda thickened, and Leelan’s hackles rose.
“Calm down,” Elin said. “The Toda are far away.” She frowned as she watched her. Leelan was already saddled, and they were just waiting for the signal to fly, but it might become hard to control her if the Toda came too close.
At that moment, she heard a commotion outside. Quietly, she approached the doorway where she could hear the guards’ voices.
“What’s going on? Are those reinforcements?”
“That’s Nugan’s flag. I guess he couldn’t stand to stay home and miss this.”
Elin stepped outside, but the guards only glanced at her and made no attempt to stop her. The sight before her was chilling. Toda packed the skirts of the hillock. Unlike the drills she had watched many times as a child, they were assembled in full battle formation—men and beasts fused together in a single black mass. The guards had stopped talking, and the only sound was the wind. Even the summer birds and insects were silent. Frightened by the sudden appearance of the Toda, they must be hiding.
The Toda troops made so little sound, it was hard to believe how many were there. They massed at the bottom of the hill, shrouded in a heavy silence and brimming with the tension of something about to happen.
A memory came vividly to her mind—the bee swarm long ago, when the whole hive had left their nest and followed the queen bee… a single black mass. So, she thought, men abandon their old queen in the same way. Except that bees only split the hive, whereas men could not keep themselves from crushing their former ruler.
Elin took a deep breath. The feeling that rose in her chest was akin to sorrow, yet somehow emptier.
Something peculiar was indeed happening on what from her vantage point was the right wing of the assembled troops. New Toda regiments were drawing up alongside, one after the other. She wondered if a flag with the Toda scale pattern was the one the guard had said belonged to Nugan. The newly arrived troops far outnumbered those that had come first.
A messenger on horseback bearing the scale-patterned banner was sent from the newly arrived ranks to two figures in the center front line who wore particularly bright and splendid helmets. They must be the Aluhan and his son Shunan, Elin thought. They sat regally astride their Kiba with a standard bearer behind them holding aloft the Aluhan’s flag.
The messenger passed back and forth between the Aluhan and his younger son several times, but in the end, the new troops did not pull back. Elin looked around her tent, and her eyes fell upon Seimiya and Damiya. They were gazing down at the scene below and conversing quietly when Damiya, perhaps feeling her eyes upon him, glanced her way.
“Elin,” he called. “How’s Leelan?”
Elin pushed back windswept strands of hair from her eyes. “She’s fine.”
Damiya smiled. “Good. When it’s time, we’ll pull the tent down on either side. As soon as you see the sky, hop on Leelan and fly.”
Elin turned her eyes to Seimiya without answering. But Seimiya did not look at her. She stood staring at the Toda army as if lost in thought.
*
The clouds flowed by, and the sun suddenly appeared, illuminating earth and sky. In that light, the Aluhan raised his right hand, and hundreds of war horns blew. Their high peal seemed to erupt from the earth like the cry of a newborn babe, and, riding the wind, it shook the plain and caused the skin of all those who heard to shiver.
With it came the rumble of scraping earth. The Toda were on the move.
As Seimiya watched the Toda climb the hill like a slow, black wave, a
strange thought occurred to her. Does Damiya realize that he let his true intentions show? “That is your army,” he had said. Her lips twitched in a faint smile. The moment I accept it as my army, the Yojeh will vanish from this world. What would vanish was an invisible something that wrapped the hearts of her people. And once broken, it would never be recovered.
She did not want to give up that pure something, guarded for three centuries by generations of Yojeh… But she could not protect it, even if she were to marry Damiya. She was certain of that now. Watching the approaching army and seeing that it was close enough for her to make out the faces of Shunan and his father, she turned to her maidservant. “Bring me the blue flag.”
Damiya turned to her with a startled expression. “What?”
Seimiya looked up at him and said quietly, “I cannot marry you, Uncle Damiya. Not you who seek to rule this land with a heart that could murder my grandmother.”
All expression was wiped from his face. After a slight pause, he sighed. “Do you remember the craftwork I gave you once?” Seimiya frowned, unable to follow his train of thought. “That miniature palace, it was exquisite, wasn’t it? Seimiya, what counts is the form. If you can make a perfect, unshakeable form, people can settle down comfortably within it and live contentedly.”
She turned her face from Damiya and looked at Shunan as he climbed the hill. “No matter how perfect and beautiful,” she whispered, “I do not want to live in a box that never changes.” With her eyes still on Shunan astride his detestable Toda, she continued, “The children born to Shunan and me will bear not only that which is sacred, but also the defilement of this land… My children will not be gods, but human. And they will see this land with their own eyes, right from the start.”
The Beast Player Page 37
