SIX FAMILY DAYS 1 HOT WATER BOTTLE Snow clouds streamed in the wind. The Royal Beasts wheeled like dark shadows against the gray sky, turning into dazzling specks each time the sun burst through a break in the clouds. The slow, rhythmic notes of a harp quickened, and the flock of lights swerved in unison, climbing higher in the air. Batting away the snowflakes that flew like dust into her eyes, Esalu paused to stretch her back and catch her breath from the walk up the hill. She gazed at the Royal Beasts that danced across the heavens. Two years, Esalu thought. Elin had managed to train them this far in that short a time. The heat of exertion ebbed, and Esalu felt the air pierce her skin. No matter how thickly she dressed, the bitter cold seeped through her clothes like water. Yet Elin had been working in this icy temperature since early morning and was still standing on the edge of the snow-covered cliff, her face turned upward. Esalu sighed. Ever since Elin had returned to Kazalumu, she had seemed possessed. She rarely took a day off and spent all her time studying the ecology of the Royal Beasts and training them. It reminded Esalu of when Elin was just a girl and had forgotten to eat and sleep in her longing to cure Leelan. She must have made up her mind, Esalu thought. For eleven years, Elin had agonized over how to raise the Royal Beasts. Until she had been summoned by the Aluhan. Now she seemed to have no trace of doubt. She knew exactly what she was doing as she broke, one by one, the rules the Royal Ancestor Jeh had made to prevent catastrophe. Elin’s eyes were fixed on something that only she could see. Head raised, she deliberately walked into the wind, focused solely on the final outcome of her actions. Where will her path lead her in the end? Esalu shivered and rubbed her arms. The dazzling specks began to descend. One at a time, Royal Beasts dropped to the ground. Some landed partway down the cliff, others on the snowy ground at the top. Keeping a fixed distance from each other, they formed a ring with Elin at the center. Although they looked like they were randomly scattered, Esalu, who was used to this sight, knew there was meaning in the order of their descent and in each landing spot. Leelan alighted first, beside Elin, followed almost immediately by Eku. Next came their children, each landing some distance away and in order of their age. According to Elin, Leelan and her family, who had been living in the sanctuary the longest, had staked out a core territory within the pasture. The Royal Beasts that had been brought to the sanctuary later each made their own territory on the edge of that family circle. They maintained the same hierarchy and physical distance between them wherever they were. Even here in the ravine that served as their training ground, they still stayed the same distance apart when they landed. However, Elin had discovered through many years of observation that the size of each Beast’s territory was much smaller than that of wild Royal Beasts. I suppose in the wild such enormous, meat-eating creatures would need quite a lot of space, Esalu thought. But in the sanctuary, where there’s no need to hunt for food, territory probably has a different meaning. Elin had told Esalu that Royal Beasts were amazingly intelligent and adapted to new conditions very quickly. Through studying the behavior of Beasts newly introduced to the sanctuary, Elin had identified how they maintained an appropriate distance from one another. It seemed they had their own language, communicating with complex combinations of cries, wing movements, and sounds made with their teeth and joints. Leelan lowered her head and nuzzled Elin in the back making a cooing noise like a cub—shashasha. “Stop that, Leelan. You might push me off the cliff.” Smiling, Elin pressed her hands against the enormous Beast’s nose. On her breast, a Silent Whistle gleamed. As Esalu walked toward Elin, she noticed footsteps in the snow. They led not from the direction of Kazalumu but from the edge of the forest to the training ground and back again. She sighed. Elin turned at the sound. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were here.” With a worried frown, she strode quickly over to Esalu. “You shouldn’t have come all this way in such freezing weather.” Esalu stretched and raised her brows. “I’m not the only one who came all this way in this weather. Did you notice?” Elin looked to where Esalu was pointing, and her face clouded. The boy must have been hiding in the rock’s shadow for some time. The snow was much thinner there. Catching sight of something on the rock, Elin walked over and picked it up. “What is it?” Esalu called out. Elin turned and waved what looked like a red scarf. “It’s my old scarf,” she said as she drew near. She wrapped it around Esalu’s neck. Esalu’s eyes widened as she felt its soft warmth. “It’s so warm,” she exclaimed. “Did he just leave it there now?” Elin shook her head with a playful smile and placed a small pottery vessel in Esalu’s hands. “Ah! A hot water bottle!” Esalu exclaimed. At this time of year, it was quite common for the elderly to fill a clay jug like this with hot water, wrap it in cloth, and stick it inside their robes. The boy had probably wrapped it in his scarf so the heat wouldn’t escape when he left it on the rock for his mother. “Honestly! That little rascal. It’s hard to scold him when he does such sweet things.” Esalu sighed again. “I know he misses you, but it’s not good to let him sneak in here like this all the time. It’s not only the guards I’m thinking of. The forest is much deeper here than around the pastures; he could get into serious trouble along the way.” “I know. I really need to make him stop, but…” Jesse was lonely. His father was no longer here, and his mother spent most of the day with the Royal Beasts. They had gotten rid of their house in the city and moved into a house built for them inside the sanctuary, meaning Jesse couldn’t play with his old neighborhood friends anymore. When school was in session, he could at least play with the students sometimes, which helped him forget his parents’ absence. But during the holidays, when the students went home to their families, there was only the housemother, Kalisa, and the custodians. Although they might spend some time with him, he must have been unbearably lonely. The training grounds were heavily guarded, with many soldiers posted in the forest, and no one was allowed in except Elin and Esalu. But knowing Jesse was Elin’s son, the guards turned a blind eye when he snuck through. When Elin thought about how the Aluhan and others would react if they heard that Jesse was watching her train the Royal Beasts, she knew she couldn’t let him get away with it. But when she thought of how Jesse must have been feeling, she couldn’t bring herself to scold him either. “Honestly, you and Jesse are hopeless. Your husband, too,” Esalu grumbled. She bit her glove and pulled it off, then took a letter wrapped in oiled paper from her cloak. Elin’s heart raced at the sight. Just feeling the weight of the letter in her hands made her happy. “Do you think he’ll come home this winter? Even once?” Elin smiled and cocked her head. “I wonder.” “He doesn’t come because you don’t put enough pressure on him,” Esalu said. “I bet he’d be happier if you begged him to come home instead of being so understanding.” Elin replied with a vague smile, and Esalu threw up her hands with a snort of disgust. With the sun sinking lower in the sky, the snow that had been blowing in soft little flurries began to fall thick and fast. “I guess it’s time to get back to the stable,” Elin said. She tucked Ialu’s letter into her cloak and raised her harp. With the first twang of the string, the Royal Beasts turned toward her. Listening to the notes she played, they rose as if drawn by a thread, flying up into the dusky heavens. Their wings beat noisily as they passed overhead and flew off toward the pasture. “Not a Beast out of place,” Esalu whispered as she watched them disappear into the distance. Esalu left when they reached the stable. Pushing open the door, Elin stepped inside. Having arrived home long before and been fed by Tomura and the senior students, Leelan was grooming her fur with a contented look. It was warm inside the dimly lit stable. Although the stalls were cleaned daily, the distinctive scent of Beast never left. The smell might have disturbed someone who wasn’t used to it, but Elin felt herself relax whenever she entered the stable. It was completely different in size and shape from the building that had been here when she was a young girl. Carpenters sent from the palace had replaced it with a far larger and grander structure. Now, plenty of fresh meat was delivered daily for the Royal Beasts, so the sanctuary no longer had to mix potatoes into the feed to make it stretch further. Listening to the Beasts’ gentle rustling, Elin knelt in front of the fireplace and stirred the embers in the banked fire. When they began to glow, she added a few sticks of wood. The flames caught, and she sat down by the fire and pulled out the bundle Esalu had given her. Breaking the seal, she tore off the oiled-paper wrapping and unfolded the pages inside to reveal Ialu’s handwriting. Breathlessly, she began to read the tightly packed script. Just like his character, Ialu’s words were plain and straightforward. He described different events in his life over the past month. As a former Se Zan who had once guarded the Yojeh, it couldn’t have been easy for him to fit in with the Toda Riders, who pledged allegiance to the Aluhan, yet his letter never even touched on this subject. For the last two years, he had worked patiently and steadily to form a bridge between the Aluhan’s men and the Se Zan. With Kailu’s help, he had invited a Se Zan and a Toda Rider, both of whom were well liked by their comrades but flexible in their thinking, to join him for a drink. He had started off with just the three of them meeting once or twice a month, but slowly his efforts had borne fruit, and twenty or thirty men now joined this regular gathering. Through their conversations, he identified what was needed and formulated proposals to meet those needs. He had also established a channel through which he could share these proposals with the Yojeh and the Aluhan. He approached this work with the same methodical patience he showed when building cabinets. At the same time, he was working to improve the Toda army and sent Elin detailed descriptions of the new Toda troop he’d helped establish under Yohalu. Although not a talkative man, Ialu was a surprisingly good writer. When Elin had first begun living with him, she had stumbled upon a bundle of papers while cleaning. Ialu wasn’t home. She knew she shouldn’t look at them without permission, but she couldn’t help herself. Undoing the string that bound them, she began to read. It was a diary of sorts. The mental anguish Ialu had experienced after quitting the Se Zan came through so vividly, she couldn’t put the pages down. It was only when she came to the place where he mentioned her that she finally stopped. Although she was dying to read further, she was afraid she couldn’t bring herself to look Ialu in the face if she did. With trembling fingers, she retied the string. After agonizing over it all night, she’d finally confessed. She’d been terrified that it would mean the end of their relationship, but Ialu had seemed neither surprised nor angry. Taken aback by his indifference, she had asked him why he wasn’t mad, but he’d only looked puzzled and in the end had never answered her. She still didn’t know why he hadn’t gotten mad. They’d been married a long time now, and there were quite a few things she still wondered about. Perhaps it was the same for him, too. Elin pulled her rambling thoughts back to the present and started reading from where she’d left off. At a certain spot, her eyes widened. “Yesterday,” Ialu wrote, “a secret envoy arrived bearing a letter from Sir Rolan. Lord Yohalu summoned me to his room and told me what it said. The contents were surprising. According to Sir Rolan, Lahza is not the name of a single nation.” Rolan had traveled deep into the eastern plains, and the country he described was a far cry from what Elin had imagined Lahza to be. According to him, the word “Lahza” meant “we” in the language of a people who called themselves the Oolish. The correct name for their country was Lahza Oma Kaluda, meaning “we who worship Kaluda.” Kaluda was the god they worshipped in a shrine far to the east. Furthermore, the Oolish were divided into two large groups of people: the Oolish Oh and the Oolish Yah, meaning the Western Oolish and the Eastern Oolish. These two groups vied with each other to see who could bring the most prized offerings to their god. Once every five years the god sent the Voice of Joy from the heavens to announce which group, the Western or the Eastern Oolish, had most pleased him. For the last fifteen years, the Eastern Oolish had received the most praise for their achievements, and the Western Oolish longed to offer up some dazzling exploit that would win the god’s approval. According to Rolan, this was likely why attacks on the caravan cities, including Imeelu, had increased. He warned his father, however, not to dismiss the Lahza as mere fanatics. Although their lifestyle and their way of thinking was grounded in their belief in Kaluda, the glory of their cities and the prosperity of their trade were so indescribably great that one would have to see it to believe it. Their style of government was also extremely efficient. They had succeeded in absorbing so many surrounding tribes and peoples because they treated everyone, even non-Oolish, as equals as long as they accepted the god Kaluda. As she read, Elin recalled the guestroom in Yohalu’s hall; the beautiful woman Kuriu sitting in an arm chair by the window that opened onto the inner garden; the huge map that covered the wall. She remembered Rolan’s rich, gentle voice as he had pointed to the caravan city Imeelu on a distant plain, and his homeland, Asheh. From Ialu’s letter, she sensed once again the vastness of the world that she’d felt at that time. She raised her face and gazed at the Royal Beasts. In the half-dark of this winter night their hulking shadows were hunched in sleep, and their muzzles were buried deep in the fur on their chests as they snored contentedly. Something boundless spread through her chest at the thought that in some faraway land, people who worshipped the god Kaluda were also passing this winter night. How big the world was! And so filled with people of different perspectives. A quiet thought dropped to the bottom of her chest and fanned outward. Wars will never cease. No matter how hard people might try to prevent conflict, no matter what clever scheme they devised, humans would continue to form packs that fought over territory. Looking at Leelan’s sleeping form, Elin thought of Jeh, who had left this world long ago. Having led two thousand Royal Beasts through the skies to battle, she would have been painfully aware of human nature. Surely, Jeh, you must have felt the same way. Yet you didn’t let that stop you. You used the Royal Beasts to safeguard the stability of this country while trying your best to avert another catastrophe. And now, one piece at a time, Elin was dismantling the clever devices Jeh had created to prevent people from flying or breeding the Beasts. The final outcome to which these actions could lead was always on Elin’s mind, yet she no longer felt like stopping. The system Jeh had so carefully woven was truly masterful—as long as the sole object was to stabilize the country and maintain peace. But time passed. The country grew, its population swelled, and border disputes with other nations became frequent. When Yaman Hasalu was given the Toda as weapons, Jeh’s exquisitely woven cage had begun to unravel and had now reached the stage where it could no longer hold its shape. While the kingdom of Lyoza had been flaunting the power of the Toda to other countries, it had also been sowing the seeds of its own downfall. Countries that lacked Toda and relied on men as weapons naturally wanted a Toda army of their own. As long as people were driven by the desire to win, to have a better life than someone else no matter how small the difference, they would keep looking for ways to conquer. One day, someone was bound to discover a weapon that could overwhelm the Toda forces. Elin stared at the floor of the dark stable. In the end, it was I who found that weapon and showed it to those in power. As the one who had opened the lid of that box, what should she do? Having thought this question through carefully, she was now walking the only path she’d found. If we could rid the world of war … This thought crossed her mind at times, and each time she would dismiss it as an impossible dream. Humans, who staked out territories in packs, seemed to have an incurable inclination to wage war. But at the bottom of this dark thought a faint light still gleamed. In her mind, she would see the shadow of a little fish flitting through a stream while the sun played on the water’s surface—a fish she had read about in a book long ago. Known by the name of lya, the fish fed on algae that grew on rocks in the riverbed. Each lya claimed several rocks as their territory and would slam into other fish to stop them from eating their algae. The more they ate, the stronger these fish grew, and the better they could protect their territory. The strongest survived. Strangely, when something in the river’s condition changed, they would begin to swim in schools and no longer stake out territory. The fish that swam in such schools weren’t particularly small. No longer bound by territories, they could forage in a broader area and had more algae to eat. Sometimes more lya survived this way than on their own. The passage Elin had read kept a clear light alive in her mind. Although faint, it glittered like the sun on the river’s surface. Living things can change, she thought. We can never know people or the world to the point where we can write them off as hopeless. She felt that she could keep moving forward as long as she could think this way. Even if dark and menacing clouds rose above the road that stretched ahead. Elin bowed her head, the letter still grasped in her hands. Ialu had written in such detail about the Lahza to help her prepare. At the end of last year, Lahza horsemen had repeatedly attacked the kingdom’s protectorates, the caravan cities in the east. Ialu was warning her that if they had done so seeking good tidings from their god, they were likely to launch an even larger campaign in another four years. Thanks to Ialu’s detailed reports on the Toda forces, Elin had a solid grasp of what was going on. His letters conveyed the inner thoughts and opinions of each officer and soldier he named, along with the subtleties of what was happening in the field. She suspected that he sent her these long and frequent messages so she would know the people alongside whom she fought when it was time to fly the Royal Beasts into battle. She longed to be with him. To see his face, to hear his voice. This yearning burned through her chest like fire. She closed her eyes. Esalu had said she was too understanding, but she was wrong. The night before Ialu left, Elin had wept furiously and berated him. In the end, however, she had been forced to give up because she realized he felt the same as she did. Once it was clear that the transient peace in which they had lived had come to an end, the dams concealed in their hearts had burst. The walls behind which they had built their protected life crumbled and were swept away; in the wake, a single thought reared its head: Unless they faced their fate, there would be no future for them at all. Elin had known all along that Ialu was stalked by ghosts. The shades of those he had killed weighed heavily on his mind even after he and Elin began living together as a family. No matter what he did, these memories never left him. She also had longed to find something that would help her confront her past and confirm that it was all right for her to go on living. Nothing anyone said could quench that desire. But that wasn’t the only reason Ialu had decided to become a Toda Rider. Each time she read his detailed letters about the situation the kingdom faced, she sensed another reason, one that he would never say aloud. He’s trying to stand beside me wherever I must put myself. If so … Elin covered her face with her hands. In her heart, she wept for Jesse. 2 YUGULA FIRE ANTS Snow dusted the banks of the rushing mountain river, the white contrasting starkly with the black of the wet rocks. The water was so cold it cut the fingers, but the Royal Beasts appeared unperturbed, dunking their muzzles in the stream to drink. The day was fair, and the bright sun shone on their fur. When they’d landed on the rocks during their morning training session, Leelan had slipped on a snow-covered rock. She must have hurt her claw because she was licking it diligently. Elin walked over to her. “Let me see,” she said. Leelan stopped licking her paw and raised her head. There was a small cut where the claw joined the foot pad, but it wasn’t serious and was no longer bleeding. “It’s just a tiny cut,” Elin said with a smile. Leelan snorted, her breath rising like white steam. Unlike the other Royal Beasts, Leelan had borne several cubs, and two dark red nipples peeped out from the fur on her chest. The fur around Leelan’s nipples was always ruffled because whenever she returned to the sanctuary pasture, her youngest cub would snuggle up and tug on them, even though she had weaned long ago and was already eating meat. Elin moved away, and Leelan immediately resumed licking her paw, as though she had been waiting to do so. Suddenly, however, she raised her head and pricked her ears, her eyes focused on a point in the forest behind Elin. Alu and Eku also lifted their heads and gazed at the trees. Elin’s brows drew together; although she peered in the same direction, she couldn’t see any change. “What is it?” she started to ask, but paused before she finished, sensing a sound. Now she could hear it. A child’s scream. “Jesse?” Elin gestured to the Royal Beasts to stay put and set off at a run. It was Jesse’s voice. She was certain. Over and over, he screamed. “Jesse! Jesse!” Elin cried. She raced toward her son’s voice, weaving through the trees and leaping over snow-buried shrubs. Branches whipped her face, drawing blood, but she plowed on, pushing through the brush as she dashed through the winter forest. Jesse’s high-pitched screams drew closer, and she stumbled into a small clearing in the trees. At the foot of a tall tree, she saw him. He was writhing on the ground, hands and feet flailing as though he was on fire, and his body was covered in countless reddish-brown specks. Elin screamed at the sight. “Jesse!” Yugula fire ants! Their bite was excruciating. Too many, and the victim could die. The soldiers who guarded the forest came crashing through the underbrush, probably hearing Jesse’s screams. They froze when they saw him. Fire ants, which nested in tree trunks they gnawed hollow, were pouring forth from holes in the trunk and spreading over the ground like water. Elin leaped into the swarm. Pain shot through her feet and spread to her thighs, her stomach, then all the way up to her hands and neck, each spot burning as though pressed against hot metal. Gritting her teeth, she scooped Jesse into her arms and dashed toward the river where she had left Leelan and the others, brushing the ants off his body as she ran. She slipped on the snow and staggered into the water. “Take a deep breath and hold it!” she yelled into Jesse’s ear. Still holding him in her arms, she waded into the middle of the river and squatted in the icy water. She planted her feet firmly on the bottom to keep her balance and kneaded his body all over to remove the ants. Straightening her knees, she brought his head above the surface so he could catch his breath, but he was limp and his eyes remained shut. Angry red lumps were already rising on his face, which had turned bluish from the frigid river. Elin called his name frantically. Holding him close, she rubbed his body, then brushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead and caressed his cheek. His eyelids were beginning to swell. He opened them a crack, and his lips parted, but the only sound was the whistling of his breath. The agony was so excruciating he couldn’t speak. Gradually, the ants clinging to his clothing began to peel off, swept away by the water. Rage seized Elin, and she slapped at the ones that still clung to him. It was only when she could no longer see his face clearly that she realized her own eyelids had swollen, too. But she was barely aware of the scorching pain that seared her body. When she had finally gotten rid of most of the ants, she lurched out of the river onto the bank, clutching Jesse to her. She had to get him some medicine as soon as possible. She staggered over to Leelan. Someone spoke. One of the guards, asking her what they should do. But she had no energy to answer. She paused only to shift Jesse higher up in her arms. Fortunately, she had left Leelan’s saddle on. There was no way she could have attached it now with her frozen fingers. She lifted Jesse onto Leelan’s back first, then dragged herself up after him and climbed into the saddle. Leelan, who had been craning her neck to look at them and making encouraging noises, launched herself into the air at Elin’s command. Elin draped herself over Jesse’s body, trying to warm him. She didn’t even bother to check whether the other Royal Beasts were following. The wind roared in her ears. Her fingers, bitten by the fire ants and then plunged into ice-cold water, were so numb she couldn’t tell if they gripped the reins. “Jesse, Jesse, Jesse,” she whispered over and over. Cradling his body with her own, she prayed desperately. Don’t die. Please, please, don’t die! She was awoken by the sound of Jesse crying. A ray of morning sun fell through the partly open window, casting a faint light into the room. She could barely open her swollen lids. She tried to rise, only to fall back with a groan. Her arms, her legs, every part of her body was throbbing with pain as if she’d been stung by bees. Her skin felt taut and feverish. Jesse lay beside her, and she placed a hand on his forehead. His fever had come down a bit overnight, but he was still quite hot to the touch. He wept listlessly, his face bright red and puffy. “You’ll be all right, Jesse. The pain will be gone soon. Just a little longer,” Elin murmured, stroking his hair and pressing her cheek against his. “Mom,” he croaked. “I’m … thirsty…” Elin nodded. “I’ll get you a drink.” She found two cups with spouts by her pillow, both full. Esalu must have put them there, Elin thought. She picked one up. Slipping her other hand under Jesse’s head, she raised it a little and put the spout against his lips. He gulped noisily. The cool water seemed to relieve some of the pain, because when she laid him back on the pillow, he began breathing peacefully. Elin soaked a cloth in a basin of water by the bed, wrung it out, and gently wiped the sweat from his face. Taking care not to wake him, she loosened the collar of his shirt and slipped out the cloths she had placed under each armpit. The cloths, which had been wet when she’d put them in, were already dry. She cooled them in the water, wrung them out, and tucked them under his armpits once again. She would have liked to use ice, but that would have been too cold. The fever was his body’s defense against the poison. Rather than cooling him down suddenly, it would be better to keep changing the cloths. After placing a damp cloth on his forehead and another under the nape of his neck, Elin finally relaxed. Esalu had cared for them all night, but she had probably gone back to the school to get more medicine. No one else was there, and the house was very quiet. When they had moved here two years ago, a small guardhouse had been built onto the front entrance. No one could enter without passing through it, and there were always two guards stationed there. Every morning around this time, Elin could hear them preparing their breakfast, but today there were no sounds. Perhaps they were trying not to disturb the patients. Elin lifted the second cup to her mouth and took a long gulp of water from the spout. The ice-cold liquid seeped into her parched, swollen throat. The faintly medicinal smell jolted her back to her childhood. Once, she’d been badly stung by bees. Joeun had given her this same medicine and nursed her through the night as she fought a fever. Though she’d been grateful, she remembered vividly how much she had missed her mother. She stroked Jesse’s flushed cheeks with her fingers. Snuggling close enough to feel the heat of his fever, she closed her eyes. Poor Jesse. She’d failed him. One of the first things new students at Kazalumu learned was how to steer clear of the poisonous bugs and snakes that lived in the forest. Jesse, who was too young to go to school, had had no way of knowing about Yugula fire ants. I should have taught him. Remorse stabbed her heart. She knew that Jesse was lonely and frequently snuck through the forest to watch her on the training grounds, yet she’d been so preoccupied with the Royal Beasts that she’d never stopped to think about the risks. Somewhere in her mind, she’d assumed he would be all right because the guards were always nearby. She’d left most of his care to Esalu, Kalisa, and the others who worked at the school. She sighed. For the last two years, she’d been so rushed and pressured by the urgency of her work. She could be called up to fight the Lahza at any time. Before that happened, she had to find out why the Royal Beasts could cause a disaster. Even if she couldn’t do that in time, she at least wanted to train them so she could prevent the worst. These thoughts had consumed her. But the time she spent with Jesse was also irreplaceable. She opened her eyes a crack and watched his sleeping face. She hadn’t had much time with her own mother, but the love she’d received, each memory they’d shared together, were precious gems that gave her comfort. Am I that kind of mother to Jesse? Elin placed her forehead gently against his ear and closed her eyes once again. 3 THE MYSTERY OF TREES On a fine spring day when the snow along the banks of the mountain river had melted, Elin left the training of the Royal Beasts in Esalu’s hands for half a day and took Jesse on an outing. He walked beside her with the bundle that held his lunch, sometimes balancing it on his head, at other times hugging it close to his chest. He looked up at her. “Are we going to eat outside?” he asked. The ant bites on his face had scabbed over and fallen off, leaving just faint traces on his skin. “Yes, we are. Let’s go down to the field along the river and have lunch there. We can light a little campfire to keep warm.” Jesse’s eyebrows rose. “Really? What’s going on, Mom?” “What do you mean?” “You’re always so busy. We never eat lunch together. Are you trying to be nice to me ’cause you’re feeling guilty or something?” Elin grinned. “Well, yeah. I do feel a little guilty, I guess.” “A little?” Jesse snorted. “Well I guess that’s better than not at all.” His lips were pouting, but his smile gave him away. Clearly, he was bubbling with excitement. He brought the bundle containing his lunch up to his nose and sniffed. “What’s in here? Doesn’t smell like fahko.” “It’s a surprise,” Elin said. “There’s a place I want to show you before we have lunch, though. Here, let me hold that. You should keep your hands free when walking in the forest.” She reached out to take his lunch, but Jesse refused to let go. “You’ve got to be kidding!” he said. “I’m way more used to walking in this forest than you. You should give me your lunch so you can have your hands free. You aren’t riding Leelan today, you know.” He popped his bundle on top of his head and, holding it with one hand, set off at a dash. Jumping over a tree root as nimbly as a monkey, he ran into the forest. “Jesse, stop!” Elin shouted. “Your lunch! You’ll spill the sauce!” She chased after him through the trees. Their branches were so thick with new leaves that they turned the sunlight shining through them green and dyed Jesse’s hair and body the same color. As he sped down the path, she called out again. “Wait! Not that way.” Jesse stopped and turned, frowning. “Aren’t we going to the training ground along the river?” “Yes, but there’s something I want to show you first.” He skipped back toward her, holding his lunch in his hands. She placed her hand on his head. Pointing to the right, she indicated a game trail that was only faintly visible. Jesse’s face clouded. “Oh. You want to go that way?” The forest path they were on was quite wide but there was a steep hill in the middle. The narrow game trail to which Elin had pointed sloped gently. When the snow lay on the ground, it was easier to walk along. This was the trail that Jesse had used all winter to sneak to the training grounds. It also passed close to the fire-ant nest where he had been bitten. “That’s right,” Elin said smiling. “Are you scared?” Jesse pushed out his lower lip. “Nope. Why would I be scared? I’ve gone this way lots of times.” Elin ruffled his hair and then gave him a light tap on the back. “Off we go, then.” Whereas before he had been skipping along, Jesse’s feet began to drag. Elin’s face softened as she strolled after him. When they were almost at the place where he’d been bitten, his feet faltered and came to a standstill. “The other day,” he said, “when it was still winter, I saw a rabbit. A real beauty, pure white. At first, I thought it was just a clump of snow, but then it jumped. When I saw it was a rabbit, I ran after it.” His hands mimicked the movements of the rabbit as it ran, then he turned and looked up at Elin. “I pushed my way through those bushes, but suddenly there was this big open space, and I slipped and bumped into a tree. The one with the nest.” Elin nodded, then turned and began pushing her way through the bushes. “Mom! No! It’s dangerous!” Jesse shrieked, his voice cracking. Elin shoved aside the bushes to make a path and looked back at her son. “It’s all right,” she said. “Come over here.” Jesse stared at her for a moment, scowling, then walked over. “Give me your lunch,” she said. “Climb over these bushes, but don’t rush. Once you get across, stand on the edge of the clearing.” He handed her his lunch obediently and climbed over the bushes to stand on the grass on the other side. Elin followed and stood beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the tree with the ant nest, isn’t it?” Jesse gazed up at a tall tree that rose straight toward the sky and nodded. “Do you notice anything different about it?” Elin asked. “It’s not the same as the others.” Jesse frowned and stared at the tree. The clearing looked very bright, perhaps because he had just emerged from the dim forest. The sunshine fell fully on the tree, making its bark shine white. A crack ran up its trunk, a black line that seemed to run from the top to the bottom, as though it had been cut with a sharp knife. Jesse looked up at his mother. “It’s got a crack.” She smiled at him with a twinkle in her eyes and raised her brows. “Is that all? Some of the other trees have cracks, too.” Jesse pursed his lips and examined it again. How was it different from the others? Maybe it’s a different species, he thought. No, that can’t be it. But then what? He stared at the tree with the nest for some time without finding an answer. To say so, however, would be to admit defeat. Thinking hard, he compared it with the other trees nearby. “Hmm. For some reason this tree looks brighter than the others,” he muttered. A smile lit up his mother’s face, and she gave his shoulder a little shake. “That’s it! Now why do you think it looks brighter than the other trees?” Jesse cocked his head. “Because it gets lots of sunshine?” “Exactly! Now why does this tree get so much more sunlight than the others?” “There aren’t any trees around it. It’s all alone in the middle of the clearing. All the other trees are crowded together so their branches block the sun.” “Right!” Elin nodded and stepped away from him onto the grass. He called after her in a panic but she said, “It’s all right. Follow my footsteps.” Jesse walked cautiously across the grass toward her. She pointed to the branches of the trees closest to the one with the nest. “Take a look at the leaves on those trees. What do you see?” When Jesse looked up, he gasped. “Amazing! They look like lace. All of them! All the leaves around here have been eaten by bugs.” The leaves on some branches had been gnawed off, even the buds, while those on other branches were so riddled with holes, they were like a fine mesh with sunlight glinting through them. “Yugula fire ants eat leaves as well as bugs,” Elin said. “They’ve got big appetites, too. That’s why the leaves and buds on the trees around their nests are usually all gone. These trees can’t live without their leaves, and they can’t grow unless they sprout new ones. Eventually, they’ll rot and fall. That’s what happened to the logs you see here.” Elin tapped her foot against a fallen tree half buried in moss and earth. Her foot thudded dully against it. Jesse grimaced. “Those Yugula fire ants are awful,” he said. Elin shook her head. “Maybe, but I bet that tree in which they built their nest is grateful to them.” “Why?” “Just think about it. The fire ants ate the trees around it. Because those trees are no longer there, it now gets plenty of sunshine, its branches can reach out as far as they want, and it can grow strong and healthy.” “Ah…” Jesse looked up at the tree, his lips slightly parted. Reddish-brown ants scurried in and out of the trunk. With its branches spread wide, the tree seemed to soak up the sun contentedly. “There’re many types of fire ants, but most of them live much farther south in damp jungles with lots of rain. Those forests tend to be very dense. Trees need sunlight to grow, so the amount of light a tree can get is very important. When fire ants pick a tree for their nest, they’ll eat all the others around it, letting the one they choose grow strong and healthy.” The dappled sunlight fell on Elin’s face, and she squinted against the brightness. “Yugula fire ants are unusual because they live in cold places where snow falls. But they still eat the trees surrounding their nest, making a grassy clearing around it. That must be very pleasant for the ants because it’s warm.” Jesse observed the ants swarming around the crack in the trunk. “They’re like soldiers, aren’t they?” he said. “They’re probably attacking everything around their base so they can make it bigger.” Elin’s brows shot up. He was still so young; she hadn’t expected him to say such things. But perhaps he’d learned something about war tactics while play-fighting with other boys. “I see what you mean,” she said. “Yugula ants and people both try to make their lives better by snatching up everything around them.” Jesse nodded. “The best way to win is to get lots of powerful allies. That tree was lucky to have such strong bugs on its side.” Elin smiled. “It wasn’t lucky. It drew the luck to it.” “What?” “That’s a kogu tree. Its sap smells sweet. The ants made their nest in it because they were drawn to the smell.” Jesse’s eyes grew round. “Oh, I get it. The tree used food to get them on its side, just like Potchi!” “Potchi?” “Yeah. His father runs the fahko bakery. Potchi used to get his Mom to make jugu cookies and then tell everyone he’d give them some if they’d join him. That’s why he always won. I really wanted to beat him one day, even just once.” Jesse’s expression changed suddenly. “But how come only that tree has sweet sap? It’s not fair. Why don’t the others have some? If one tree can attract fire ants while the rest can’t, the winner’s already decided from the start. That’s not a fair fight.” He looked up at Elin. “Why is it that way?” Elin placed a hand on his head. “I don’t know, Jesse. But Yugula fire ants aren’t the only things trees depend on to survive. Take this tree here, for instance. Its blossoms will be replaced with sweet little fruit. The birds love them and gobble them up, seeds and all. What do you think happens to those seeds?” Jesse thought for a moment, then grinned. “They come out in their poop. Plop! Plop! Plop!” He burst into a fit of giggles. Elin laughed and gave him a gentle rap with her knuckles. “I’ve never figured out why kids like poop so much. But you’re right.” Jesse frowned. “But what’s the point of turning them into poop? That doesn’t help the tree.” “Oh, but it does! Wrapping a seed in poop is like wrapping it in fertilizer. When it falls to the ground, it’s got enough food to make it grow big and strong. This tree lets the birds carry its children so they can set down roots all over.” Jesse’s eyes widened. “That’s pretty smart!” He fell silent, biting his lip as he stared at the trees around him. “What’re you thinking about?” Elin asked. Frowning, he said, “It’s just kind of creepy. It never occurred to me that trees might have thoughts of their own or do things like that. It’s weird, you know.” A breeze passed through the wood, stirring the leaves. Looking up at the branches, Jesse shivered. Elin wrapped her arms around him and gave him a squeeze. “When I was about your age, I thought exactly the same thing.” “Really?” “Uh-huh. Trees, bugs, birds, beasts. I suddenly realized that maybe they weren’t what I’d thought they were. If trees can’t think or talk, then why can they attract birds to carry their seeds or bugs to protect them? Is it coincidence? Or do trees do it on purpose, and if so, how?” When she finished speaking, all that could be heard was the rustling of the leaves, the occasional bird hopping from one branch to another, or a trill of birdsong, and even these sounds seemed to sink into the stillness. Feeling the warmth of her son against her chest, Elin stared at the sky through the branches. “When I was young,” she said finally, “I wanted to know all those things. I thought if I read lots of books and studied hard, one day I’d understand…” She rested her chin on Jesse’s hair, warmed by the sun. A smile touched her face. “But you know what? I don’t think that day will ever come.” Jesse twisted his head to look at her. “Why not? You don’t know that, Mom. It might happen.” There was a note of apprehension in his voice, and Elin tightened her grip. “The world is so huge,” she murmured, her chin still resting on his head. “And people are so small. It’s impossible for just one person to see the whole picture. “Still, we have words so we can tell others what we find out. There was a beast doctor named Tokima who died a long time ago. But in one of his books he wrote about the galyo, poisonous water lizards that live in the marshes far to the south. He studied them for many years, hoping to find an antidote for their poison. During that process, he accidentally discovered that water temperature determines whether their eggs will hatch males or females. He only wrote a few lines about that, but because I’d read his book, I was able to figure out that water temperature also determines the sex of Toda when they’re in the egg.” Still gazing at the sky, she continued, “The life of one person is short, but there’re a lot of us. If we keep recording everything we know, down to the smallest scrap of information, those records can lead others to important discoveries. At least, that’s what I think. We’re living on the far edge of the lives of many who came before us, people we never even knew. In the same way, others will carry on from the far edge of our lives.” Whether Jesse understood or not, she couldn’t tell, but he was listening. It doesn’t matter, she thought. She hadn’t understood most of what her mother had told her either. But fragments of her words had remained deep inside Elin’s mind, surfacing again much later, each time bringing memories of her mother, who was long gone. “Jesse,” she murmured in his ear. “Imagine holding a torch. Its light only reaches the world around your feet. But if many people use the flame from that torch to light their own, it will bring a much wider world out of the darkness.” She gazed at the trees waving in the spring breeze. “That’s what I want to be,” she said. “Someone who can pass on that flame.” 4 JESSE’S DREAM Sitting beside the campfire, Jesse unwrapped the layers of oiled paper containing his lunch and looked inside. His eyes widened. “Mom!” he shouted. “Did you wrap our lunch in leaves?” “Careful!” Elin said. “You’ll spill the sauce. Put it flat on your knees.” Jesse hastily did as he was told, bringing his knees together so that the bundle, wrapped in a big, shiny leaf, rested on his lap. He struggled to untie the string that bound it, but it was slippery with juice, making it difficult to undo. “Why’d you go and tie it up like this?” he grumbled as he worked on the string. “It just makes more work, doesn’t it?” When he finally got the leaf open, however, his jaw dropped. “What’s this? Meat! And underneath, is that rice?” Laughing, Elin passed him a pair of chopsticks. “That’s right,” she said. “Rice is best eaten hot, but it should still taste good even cold. Go ahead and try some.” She had cut the boar meat into chunks to make it easier to eat. Jesse popped a piece into his mouth. “Mmm!” Juice trickled down his chin. He wiped it away quickly and seemed about to say something, but Elin stopped him. “Don’t rush,” she said. “Wait until you’ve swallowed your food before you talk.” Nodding, Jesse swallowed, then broke into a broad grin. “Wow! Yum!” “Say ‘delicious,’ not ‘yum.’ You need to work on your manners, Jesse.” “Who cares! Something this good is yummy! The meat’s so tender!” Elin watched him as he grasped another chunk of meat with his chopsticks. Slipping her hands under his leaf, she raised the bundle of food up. “Try eating it with the rice, too.” Jesse shoveled some rice and meat into his mouth. His eyes grew round, and his cheeks bulged like a squirrel’s when full of nuts. He nodded emphatically. A warmth spread through Elin’s chest at the sight of his face. Still holding his leaf for him, she said, “It’s boar meat. I wrapped it in this leaf with spicy miso and sweet lacos fruit and steamed it in the oven. The leaf I cooked it in wilted, so I wrapped it in a new one for carrying.” When Jesse had almost finished and could hold his meal with one hand, Elin took a mouthful of her own. Tender boar meat steeped with lacos and spicy miso, rice well flavored with sauce—it was such a delicious and familiar taste. “My mother used to make this,” she said. Jesse’s brows rose. “You mean the Toda doctor?” “Yes,” Elin said. “People in Aluhan territory eat a lot of rice, you know.” She had to force down the flood of words that threatened to follow. He was still too young to hear the story of Elin’s mother; too young to understand what it meant to have Ahlyo blood or why her mother would have chosen silence, even though it meant she would be executed. She removed a grain of rice from Jesse’s cheek, then tapped his nose playfully with her finger. Jesse frowned and shook his head. “Stop that! I’m not a kid anymore, you know!” Elin laughed and took the empty leaf from his lap before he could spill any of the sauce on his clothes. Though delicious, the dish’s one flaw was the stickiness of the sauce. Together, they walked down to the water and washed their hands. Elin passed Jesse a towel and pointed to a bag she had placed in the river. “There’s chuku fruit inside that bag. Can you go get them for me?” “Why me? You’re closer,” he grumbled as he nonetheless ran over to take out two dark red and well-ripened chuku from the bag. After trotting back to Elin, he handed her one. They sat down on a rock and peeled the fruit, enjoying the sweet, citrusy aroma. The sunshine pouring down on the field kept them comfortably warm. “Jesse,” Elin said as she removed the peel. “You know I got a letter from your father the other day.” “Yeah.” “He told me to ask you about your future.” Jesse blinked. “My future?” “Yes. You turn eleven this year. It’s time you started thinking about what you want to do next. You have a few more options than kids born to the artisan class. Because your father’s a Toda Rider, you could rise up into the warrior class if you wanted.” Although she fervently hoped he wouldn’t choose that path, Elin strove to keep her voice neutral. Jesse frowned, as though thinking. “You could also become a cabinetmaker, like your father when we lived in town. In that case, we’ll need to find you a good teacher so you can apprentice. You might feel lonely living away from home, but that’s what all artisan children do. The master carpenter will pay your food and board, which means your father and I can save up some money for when you go independent.” Jesse glanced at his mother, wondering if he could tell from her face which she wanted him to choose. But she just smiled gently. A cabinetmaker … The sharp scent of wood chips that pricked his nostrils rose in his mind. Jesse loved watching his father build his beautiful cabinets, smoothing the wood with rhythmic sweeps of his plane, and he’d often made his own toys from scraps of wood. To grow up to be like his father would be awesome. It would be great to have his room and meals paid for, too. All his friends in town were already apprentices in some trade or other. He felt ashamed to be the only one who was still being fed and cared for by his parents, as though he were a kid. Although the thought of moving away from his mother made him a little anxious, not being able to live away from home would prove he was still a boy. To apprentice like his friends was the manly thing to do. Yet when he tried to picture himself as a cabinetmaker, it just didn’t feel right. Why? As he was pondering the question, he caught a flicker of motion in the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw a little lizard, a kanachoro, climbing up a nearby rock. Its skin shimmered like a rainbow, and light rippled down its back with each movement. Maybe it wanted to nap in the sun, because as soon as it reached the top, it raised its nose and stopped moving. “Mom,” Jesse said. “Do Toda nap in the sun, too?” Glancing at her, he saw she was also looking at the kanachoro. “Yes, they do. On a sunny day, they crawl out and sunbathe on the riverbanks.” She looked at him. “Unlike humans or Royal Beasts, the body temperature of lizards like that kanachoro changes with the temperature of the surroundings. That’s why they move a lot more when it’s warm.” “Really? Toda, too?” “Toda are more affected by the surrounding temperature than humans or Royal Beasts, but not as much as lizards or snakes.” “Hmm.” A little bubble rose in Jesse’s breast and floated up to form words. “Mom, I want to be like you.” His mother blinked. “Like me?” she asked. “You mean you want to be a beast doctor?” Jesse was looking at her as though surprised by what he’d just said. “A beast doctor? Umm. Yeah, I guess, but…” Looking up at her, he whispered, “Can I tell you the truth?” Elin nodded. He took a deep breath, as if he needed to gather his courage. “I want to be a Beast Handler like you,” he said. Elin stared at him, feeling a deep pain in her heart. A Beast Handler. Where had he learned such an expression? She wondered if that’s what the guards or teachers called her. These thoughts were followed rapidly by a complex mix of inexpressible emotions that filled her chest. The boy had lived with the Royal Beasts from the time he was born. He’d watched her control the huge creatures seemingly with ease, even though everyone else feared them and believed they couldn’t be tamed. It was only natural that he would want to try controlling them, too. Just as she had once longed to be like her mother, who had looked so brave and calm when she stroked the Toda that scared everyone else. Unable to find words, Elin could only stare at her son. Dread seeped through her bones, expanding through her body, and the blood drained from her face. If he chooses to enter Kazalumu School, he’s bound to follow the same path as me … Should she say no? Should she forbid him to even consider it? Because she believed that was best for him? Even as these thoughts ran through her mind, however, she knew that would be wrong. Jesse’s life is his own. When she remembered what had driven her to connect with the Royal Beasts and the beauty of what she had gained through that connection, she couldn’t bring herself to bend him to her will. She wanted to tell him everything—not just the joy of communing with the Royal Beasts but also the terrible burden that came with it—so that he could choose for himself. But he was far too young to understand. I’ll just have to take the time he needs and keep thinking about how to tell him while I watch him grow. “Jesse,” she whispered, then drew a deep breath. “If you wish to be a beast doctor, you must study many things so that you can pass the exams and enter Kazalumu School. It’s too far to commute to the school in town, so I’ll teach you what you need to know.” Jesse leaned forward. “Mom! I want to be—” Elin raised her hand. “I don’t ever want to hear you talk about being a ‘handler’ of Royal Beasts again, Jesse.” Jesse flinched and hunched his shoulders. “Why?” Gazing straight into his eyes, Elin said quietly, “You can’t understand why I would say that, can you?” Jesse shook his head. “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t say it.” As the words left her mouth, Elin heard her mother’s voice in her ear. She had once told Elin the same thing. Elin’s mouth twisted. “Jesse,” she said huskily, “Remember what I just told you and really think about it. If you do, one day you’ll understand how I feel.” He scowled, and she gazed at his face silently for a moment. “Once you’ve decided what you want to be,” she said, “tell me. There’s no hurry. Think about it carefully before you decide.” In the evening three days later, Jesse told her. He came over to where she was laying out their bedding and announced, “I’ve made up my mind. Even if you say no, I want to stay with Alu and the others. I’m going to become a beast doctor like you.” Elin stared at him for a long time. A strong light gleamed in his eyes, and she could tell from his stance that he wouldn’t change his mind unless she had a very good reason. If she let him make this choice, she knew that one day he was sure to tread the path she now walked. Yet she longed to let him do what he wished. All this time, she had worked to burn away the thick mist that covered the way ahead. Those efforts would help clear the path for him, too. She would keep trying to chase that mist away, so that when it came time for him to set foot on this road, he could see where it led. Jesse loved the Royal Beasts from the depths of his being. With that love as his core, he would grow and mature. Once he understood more, he’d be able to grasp unerringly what she had meant before. Then they could talk, as fellow travelers, their eyes fixed on the same destination. She looked at Jesse and smiled. “In that case, write to your father and tell him what you’ve decided.” Jesse’s eyes brightened. “All right!” Elin schooled her face into a stern expression. “From tomorrow,” she said, “I’ll help you with your studies. But Jesse, the entrance exam isn’t easy. Children come from all over Lyoza determined to enter Kazalumu School. Whether you get in depends on you. If you fail, you’ll have to apprentice. So be prepared.” Jesse pressed his lips together and nodded. 5 SOUNDLESS SOUND Something hard smacked Elin’s forehead, and she opened her eyes with a start. The wind whipped her hair and ruffled the fur on Leelan’s neck. Far below she could see the green forest spreading across the land. A chill seized her gut, chasing away all trace of drowsiness. She rubbed the lump that was beginning to swell on her forehead and checked to make sure that the other Beasts were still flying in formation. She couldn’t believe she’d dozed off in the middle of a training flight. It showed how tired she was. For more than a year, she’d not only been training and studying the Royal Beasts, but also teaching Jesse. Fitting Jesse’s lessons into an already busy schedule was hard, and at times she had felt sleep sucking her into its embrace. But to fall asleep while in the air! I’ve got to get a little more rest. She’d have to find a way to adjust her schedule. If she got sick, her efforts would have been for nothing. Although physically demanding, the hours she spent with Jesse in the evening were precious. She learned so much about him as she sat by his side and instructed him. He wasn’t an easy pupil. For one thing, he didn’t accept anything without question. He seemed to have his own unusual perspective and stubbornly resisted memorizing what she taught him until it made sense according to his own logic. Even if he gets in to Kazalumu School, his teachers are going to be in for a challenge. And the other kids may get fed up with him, too. Although this was a concern, Elin knew she had the same stubborn streak, and seeing it in him gave her a strange feeling. Recalling Jesse’s frowning face as he demanded to know why, she realized how incredibly patient her mentor Joeun had been. She glanced at Leelan. Unlike Jesse, the Royal Beast memorized every command and did what she was told without question. If Elin tried to make her do something she didn’t want, she’d resist. But she never asked why. Although sometimes the Royal Beasts would gesture or cry out, as if checking whether they were doing what Elin wanted, they didn’t ask for explanations. If only Leelan would, she thought. If only we could talk about such things together. She’d thought this many times and tried to find ways to make it happen. But she had yet to achieve such a complex conversation. As she flew along lost in thought, Elin suddenly realized it was getting harder to see ahead. Thick clouds covered the sky, blocking the sun. It had started growing darker a while back, and the air had felt chilly against her skin. Now, however, the clouds seemed to disintegrate, wrapping the world in white mist. Elin frowned. What should I do? We’re almost there. She was headed toward the Stone Colonnade, a valley studded with great rock pillars that rose up to pierce the heavens. She’d been planning to fly the Royal Beasts through the pillars without breaking formation, but it would be too dangerous to fly through the rocks in the mist. As she pondered what to do, the mist thickened rapidly, wrapping itself around Leelan’s body as she flew. The way forward was veiled by white clouds. When Elin glanced to the side, she could no longer see Eku or the others. We’d better go back, she thought, and raised her harp. At that moment, Leelan flapped her wings and swerved suddenly. “Whoa!” Elin was jerked sideways. The harp flew from her hand, hitting the saddle before it bounced off. If it hadn’t been tied to her with a rope, it would have plunged to the ground far below. She grabbed the saddle with one hand and fumbled for her harp with the other. A chill ran along her back as her eyes followed Leelan’s wings slicing through the wind. Something stroked her face, like a ripple running across it, and Leelan swerved once again. The mist swirled, caught by the gust from Leelan’s wings. A huge shadow loomed through the break, and Elin caught her breath. The stone columns! They’d already reached the Stone Colonnade! And were flying blind right through those pillars! It was only a matter of time before they crashed into them. “Leelan!” Elin screamed, her lips trembling. “Up! Fly up!” They had to get up above the rocks. But the moment she stroked the harp to tell the other Beasts to rise, she was thrown so violently to one side she thought her shoulder would dislocate. Something skimmed the tip of her head. Looking up, her eyes widened. Right above her was damp black stone. Leelan had been flying underneath a rock outcrop. Fear seized Elin, and she froze, not knowing what to tell the Beasts. All she could do was cling to the saddle so that she wouldn’t fall off. Leelan appeared to be following Elin’s last command to move up because she was rising higher. Rock pillars appeared from the mist but Leelan never hit one. With powerful strokes she twisted and turned, slipping through them with ease. As Elin gave herself up to the flight, she noticed something strange. Leelan was avoiding the stones before they came into view. It was only after Leelan swerved that Elin saw each pillar. The Royal Beast seemed to be keeping a fixed distance between herself and the stones, as though she could feel their location without having to see them. Although she had no idea where the other Beasts were, Elin heard no thud of impact or screams of pain, so she assumed they must be evading the columns as well. But how? Straining every nerve to feel what Leelan was doing, she realized that a split second before Leelan’s muscles rippled for a swerve, her ears pricked. And just before that, Elin felt something—a ripple of air—caress her face. That’s when Leelan’s ears twitched. Wind? Was Leelan reading the movement of the wind? No. It seemed more like she was listening to something. But what? Elin could hear nothing. A soundless sound, she thought. At that moment, the world around her brightened, and Leelan burst above the mist. Gazing down, Elin felt goosebumps rise on her skin. Below her, the other Beasts flew in perfect formation, keeping a fixed distance between each one. Royal Beasts weren’t like humans. Perhaps they could measure distance with something other than their eyes. Speechless, Elin stared at their radiant forms. 6 JESSE ENROLLS The entrance exam for Kazalumu School took place on the morning of a very hot summer day. Those who passed would return to Kazalumu in the fall when school started. As she did every morning, Elin sent the Royal Beasts into the pasture so she could clean the stables. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Jesse, who would be sitting in a classroom, taking the exam. One after another, his weak points popped into her mind, and she felt her chest tighten. If he failed the test and had to leave the Royal Beasts behind to become an artisan, he would probably have a more peaceful life. But having seen how diligently he’d studied, driven solely by his desire to be with the Beasts, she couldn’t help but hope that he passed. The school bell sounded, and Elin paused in the middle of wiping the floor. The bell marked the end of the exam. The teachers would now gather to mark the papers. She’d done it herself every year until a few years ago; she could picture in her mind exactly what was going on. She had planned to keep on with her chores until Jesse came to tell her the results, but when she heard the bell that signaled the marks were in, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She dashed from the stable and headed toward the school. When she reached the familiar dark hallway and took off her dirty boots, her heart pounded and her knees shook. Shafts of sunlight slanted through the windows onto the wide corridor. As she walked along it, a group of teachers at the other end turned and saw her. Tomura raised his brows and smiled, but she was too anxious to respond in kind. She bowed her head slightly, then stared rigidly at the room where the children were awaiting the verdict. Because the day was hot, all the doors leading into the corridor, as well as all the windows, were open wide. Bathed in bright summer sunshine, the room was filled with twelve-year-olds sitting tensely as they were handed their papers. Elin saw Jesse sitting second from the back by the window. Once every child had their test, Esalu spoke, her face stern. “Look at your marks,” she said. “Those who received eighty-seven points or above have passed.” A murmur rose from the children. Joy suffused the faces of some who could barely keep from jumping out of their seats. Others, however, put their heads on their desks and buried their faces in their arms. This was a scene Elin had witnessed many times, but she still found it difficult to watch the children who had failed. She kept her eyes on Jesse. He was biting his lip, his eyes on a girl weeping bitterly in front of him. Elin gripped her hands, unable to tell from his face if he’d passed or failed. Jesse tore his eyes away from the girl and looked around the classroom. When he caught sight of Elin, his eyes widened, then he grinned. He passed. Relief drained the strength from Elin’s body, and she leaned against the wall. She was trembling so much, she was embarrassed. She felt a hand on her shoulder and raised her head. “Congratulations,” Tomura said, an odd smile on his face. “Jesse’s test was quite something. I burst out laughing when I was marking it.” “You did?” Elin said. The other teachers smiled among themselves as Tomura continued. “He had you as his teacher, so he placed third overall in every subject. Otherwise he might have had a hard time passing with that answer.” “What answer?” Elin asked nervously, and Tomura’s grin widened. “His answer to the essay question on why he wanted to enter the school. I’ve been a teacher here a long time, but I’ve never seen anything quite like it. He wrote in big black letters, I love the Royal Beasts! So I want to be like my mother!” Elin blushed bright red. She didn’t know if she should laugh or feel embarrassed, so she kept her head down. Still chuckling, Tomura patted her on the shoulder. “Just proves he’s your son, doesn’t it?” After that, Jesse played like he’d forgotten what studying meant, reaching the day of the entrance ceremony in high spirits around the time the autumn winds began to blow. On the morning of the ceremony, he changed into his new clothes. As he tied his belt, he said suddenly, “I guess Dad won’t be coming, will he?” Elin had just reached out to straighten his collar. She paused and looked at him. “I did write and tell him the date of the ceremony, but there’ve been quite a few skirmishes lately. It was probably difficult for him to get leave to come. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to be patient. The fathers of many other students won’t be able to make it either.” She adjusted his collar and stood up. “Let’s go, then. We live really close. We wouldn’t want that to end up making us late, would we?” Though his face was still clouded, Jesse nodded and grasped his brand-new schoolbooks under his arm. On sunny days, the entrance ceremony was held outside, but on rainy days, it was held in the dining hall. The day was cloudy with a light drizzle, and so the new students, who came from all over the kingdom, marched down the corridor toward the hall. As they stepped, tense-faced, through the door, applause erupted, and they stopped in surprise. The students from the higher grades stood in two rows, from the youngest to the eldest, welcoming the newcomers with smiles and waves. “Line up!” Esalu’s powerful voice carried through the room. “That’s it. Line up in single file and pass between the other students.” The boy at the front of the line stepped forward hesitantly, glancing behind him occasionally. The older students clasped hands and raised their arms above their heads to make an arch. Ducking, the new students began walking through the tunnel. They moved shyly at first, but gradually relaxed as the other students called out encouragingly. Their backs straightened, and by the end, they were skipping through. Watching Jesse hop along, Elin remembered how she and Yuyan used to hold hands like this to welcome younger students. Beside her, a youthful father stretched to see his child, and his shoulder touched Elin’s. “Pardon me,” he said. “Not at all,” Elin said with a smile. Looking at his happy face, she sighed inwardly. I wonder what Ialu’s doing, she thought. She wished he could have seen Jesse in his hour of triumph. Esalu clapped her hands sharply, and the hall fell silent. “Attention, everyone!” she called out. “The entrance ceremony will now begin!” At that moment, the door behind the parents opened with a click. Turning to look, Elin saw several parents who had arrived late step apologetically into the room. Catching sight of the figure in the rear, she blinked, unable to believe her eyes. “Ialu!” she exclaimed, then clapped a hand to her mouth. Bowing in apology for disturbing the silence, Ialu walked over and stood beside her. He smelled of the cool autumn breeze and, very faintly, of Toda. Elin gaped at him. He flashed her a quick smile, then touched her shoulder, gesturing for her to look forward. The children were all craning their necks to see what was going on, when suddenly Jesse jumped out of his seat with a shout. “Dad!” he cried. Turning to the others, he pointed. “That’s my father!” The other parents grinned. With a bang, Esalu slammed her hand on her desk. “Jesse! Quiet, please!” Jesse snapped to attention and bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, and sat down. “Once again, the ceremony will now begin,” Esalu said. She gestured with her right hand, and a row of students in the front lifted wooden flutes to their lips. As soon as they began playing, the other students and teachers raised their voices in the school’s song of welcome. Singing the familiar tune, Elin felt her eyes blur. Ialu was supposed to be off guarding distant caravan cities. He must have ridden for days, changing horses along the way, she thought. Knowing what feeling had driven him to make such an effort, a warmth spread from her chest to the tips of her fingers. Beside her stood her husband. Before her was her son, who had just become a student of Kazalumu. Although she couldn’t stop time from moving on, this moment of happiness was right here, right now.
Chapter 16
64 min read