THE group of four took up lodging in the town of Qena on the third night after departing the royal capital.
The drizzle that began before sunset turned into a raging thunderstorm that pounded against the roof of their inn. A heavy downpour of rain whipped in through the cracks in the slatted shutters hanging over the windows, spraying a fine mist. The only relief was that the chilly wind aired out the stuffy humidity inside.
King Klinack had given them money for their traveling expenses, so they decided to borrow a lamp from the inn for the night. At first, Unen thought they might be splurging on too many luxuries, but she quickly thought twice as the storm continued to howl like a deranged beast. An ominous feeling, that something far from good was going to crawl out of the darkness, fell upon them.
The lamp they placed on the small table near the window cast multiple rings of light on the ceiling. The unreliable light of its wick-trimmed candle couldn’t even illuminate the corners of the room, which was already so small that if Unen and Irena placed their bags on the floor, they would have no space for their feet. Nevertheless, it did a sufficient job reverting what sounded like roaring beasts shaking the windows outside into the familiar sounds of wind and rain.
Unen was absently watching the orange flame flicker in the wind from where she had sprawled on the bed when Irena, who was sitting on the next bed over oiling her sword, spoke to her in an unusually quiet voice. “Hey, Unen? What exactly went down that night?”
“Hm? What night?” Unen automatically responded with a question.
Irena thrust her chin toward the room Ori and Mouru were staying in. “You spoke with those two about something the night before we left the capital, right? What in the world did you talk about? I’m terribly curious, because you’ve all been acting strange ever since.”
Irena’s eyes were clouded with worry—the same look she had when she watched Unen leave for the turret that night with Ori and Mouru. Unen gasped. She only now realized that she had been so distracted with what was going on with herself that she hadn’t taken the time to stop and consider what Irena must’ve been going through over the past three days.
Very little of the conversation that took place on the turret could be shared with Irena. However, there were many ways Unen could’ve put Irena’s worries at ease without divulging the details. She gnawed on her cheek until the taste of blood satiated her self-disgust, and then sat up primly on her bed.
“I’m sorry for making you worry. To be honest with you, I told them…what I know about Hereh.”
“Oh yeah, Mouru did go on saying something about your teacher to the king.”
Irena must’ve been really worried ever since Mouru brought that up…over three days ago. Guilt-ridden, Unen started to apologize again, but Irena quickly leaned forward, her brows knitted in a frown.
“Say…you can tell me if I’m wrong, but…did Mouru say stupid stuff to agitate you into leaking information?”
“Ah…yup, pretty much.”
“And the reason why all three of you seem oddly in the dumps is because you ripped them a new one with your retaliation?”
Irena’s teasing smile got a heartfelt, “Guilty as charged,” from her.
“But…we look that depressed? All three of us?”
“Yes. I’ve been thinking you’ve all been acting strange, but then it dawned on me after I said it! Those two are acting just like my little brothers do after they’ve been scolded for doing something bad!”
Unen burst out laughing remembering how Irena’s cheeky brothers, both younger than her by two years, would angrily push the blame onto each other. “You did it!” and “It’s your fault!” they’d insist.
Irena flashed a knowing grin and winked. “In your case, I’m going to guess you’re half-depressed and half-angry?”
As Irena guessed, Unen was beyond a doubt furious. Then again, her fury wasn’t directed at Ori and Mouru for calling Hereh a murderer, but at the unreasonable situation that had forced her to listen to him being condemned without the ability to defend him.
Irena’s guess had hit the nail on the head again as well, since Unen was also feeling depressed. It had been roughly two weeks since she had met Ori and Mouru, and they had since saved her on more occasions than she wanted to count. Granted, since her relationship with them was that of employer and bodyguard, Unen had come to trust them to some extent. Yet—
“Ori’s never one for many words, so the change doesn’t stand out as much, but it’s obvious you and Mouru are speaking less. And really, when Mouru’s silent, it feels like he’s scheming something bad, and I wish he’d cut it out! Seriously!” Irena shuddered.
“Huh? But didn’t Mouru look like he was having a blast chatting up the other inn guests downstairs? Was he really acting that different from usual?” Unen cocked her head.
“He was too different,” Irena insisted. “He seems to have returned to his old self once we reached town, but he barely said a word on the road. He REALLY gave off the feeling he was coming up with some sinister plan. What do we do if he actually has been plotting this whole time?”
Unen smiled sympathetically at Irena, who started muttering curses under her breath. Then she quietly closed her eyes and rummaged through her memories from that afternoon.
Ori had led the pack horse by the reins and Mouru had walked to the right of the horse. The image of their backs as they took the lead replayed behind her eyes.
Now that Irena brought it up, it did seem like both Ori and Mouru spoke less compared to before. But Unen doubted her past included anything that upset them. At most, they were licking their wounds from having a short little girl tear into them with, “but to me it’s you who’s the disaster!” Except, Unen seriously didn’t believe they would ever be affected by such a small thing.
In the first place, they were still keeping a lot of secrets from her, in spite of the fact that Unen had confessed everything about herself to them in full.
I’m the one who wants to mope! She griped on the inside.
They had confessed under the star-filled sky that one of their goals was to prevent the spread of knowledge.
But what Unen had learned from Hereh honestly did not amount to much. There must be others who needed to be watched more than her. Coming to that conclusion, she burned with shame.
“What’s wrong, Unen? Your face is bright-red?” Irena tilted her head while she put the finishing shine on her sword with a felt cloth.
Unen frantically waved both hands in front of her. “Y-You’re just imagining it!”
Though she inhaled deep breath after deep breath, the memory of her foolish past self continued to stab at her heart, tormenting her.
Yes, until now, Unen had prided herself on her intelligence. After all, only a select few people could read and write in the town of Yezero, and when it came to arithmetic, there were none who surpassed or even equaled her knowledge.
Naturally, the adults in town were endowed with a great breadth of knowledge in their fields, especially the doctors and blacksmiths, and she couldn’t even begin to compete against them in those regards. However, surrounded with people who used such skills on a daily basis, Unen had come to view their talents as only natural because they made a living off of those skills. Somewhere deep within her, she had grown conceited, and believed that the ability to read and write had somehow made her special compared to the rest of them. What was their normal knowledge in the face of her unique expertise?
But she was wrong. Not to mention, even if she only took those with knowledge of letters and numbers into account, she’d still find quite a number of people throughout the world who had a much deeper understanding than she did. Unen became painfully aware of that fact when she spoke in-depth with Harabal at the Kujh Castle banquet. Her newfound awareness of her own childishness made her want to dig a hole and bury herself in it.
As one would expect of the king’s mathematician, what Harabal knew about math—that Unen didn’t—could amount to an entire mountain. Trigonometry was one example, which he had alluded to briefly during their audience with the king. In the past, Hereh had taught her the concept, but had to give up on teaching the subject in-depth because he didn’t have any detailed tables or diagrams on him, much to his disappointment.
When Unen had told Harabal that during the banquet, he temporarily excused himself and returned with a book. “These are the tables of logarithms created by a mathematician from Komni Kingdom to the south.” He happily held the book out to her, and proudly tapped his chest. “I’m currently in the middle of creating a table with even more digits.”
In no way could Mouru have missed overhearing Harabal’s explanations, seated directly beside him. Nevertheless, Mouru and Ori hadn’t paid him the least bit attention. In other words, they didn’t decide who to keep an eye on by gauging the depth of the knowledge their target possessed.
The knowledge Hereh had brought out of their village—that was the component Unen might have that Harabal did not. What specifically that knowledge could possibly pertain to was beyond Unen, but Mouru and Ori apparently viewed the chance that Unen could spread the mysterious knowledge that wasn’t ever supposed to leave the boundaries of their village as a threat.
Killing Unen would be the fastest and easiest method to get rid of that particular concern. Dead men tell no tales. The village’s secrets could simply follow her to the grave. But, despite having had countless opportunities to off her, they hadn’t taken that option as of yet.
Which could only mean one thing: there was another reason why Unen caught their attention. The first thing she could think of was that they wanted to use her as bait to lure out Hereh. But what good was bait for someone who was God knows where?
“Hey, Unen, you okay?” Irena’s concerned voice dragged Unen back to reality, away from her meandering speculations.
“Y-Yeah. Sorry, Irena. I was lost in my thoughts.”
“You look really tired. Why don’t we get to sleep?” Irena suggested, as she placed her sheathed sword gently on top of her bag.
The girls exchanged goodnight’s and rolled over in their separate beds. The cryptid howls would return from the darkness if they put out the lamp, so they left it flickering. They would find themselves stuck in this town for a while if the weather continued into the morning.
“Say, Unen?” Irena whispered in a voice nearly washed away by the sound of the rain.
“What?”
“Please tell me if there is ever anything I can do to help you.”
Irena’s voice shone a small light into Unen’s heart.
“Thank you,” Unen said, grateful from the bottom of her heart.