Chapter 17

SEVEN SPRING FLIGHT 1 ALU AND JESSE Winter was more than half over when a message reached Kazalumu from the Yojeh. The snow that had been falling for days finally lifted after lunch, and the winter sky showed itself for the first time in a long while. It was then that the palace messenger, who had been stopped by the snow in the town below, was able to deliver her letter. Esalu led the messenger to the guest room to wait in case an answer was required. She then put on her snow boots and, taking the letter, went to the training grounds to find Elin. As she trudged along the snowy road, she was conscious of her aching knees, and by the time she had trekked through the forest, she was gasping for breath. When she stepped onto the snowy plain, which seemed to stretch forever, the sun was beginning to tilt in the sky, tinting the snow pale pink. Royal Beasts stood scattered over the field. “Elin!” she called. Elin was standing beside Alu. She turned and, seeing Esalu, hurried across the snow, taking care not to slip. “What is it?” she asked. “There’s a message for you from the Yojeh,” Esalu said, rubbing her knees. “I assume it isn’t urgent because it wasn’t sent by horse, but as the messenger was delayed for some time by the snow, I thought you should probably look at it right away.” She took the letter from inside her cloak and handed it to Elin. Elin pulled off her gloves with her teeth and broke the seal. The letter was written partly in code so that only those who knew it could understand the content. As she read, Elin’s face clouded slightly. “What’s it say?” Esalu asked. Elin looked up and handed her the letter. “She’s asking about our progress here. It’s not urgent, but…” Esalu’s eyes swept across the page. When she finished, she sighed. “I see. The Yojeh’s starting to worry.” After sharing the situation at the palace and inquiring about the training, Seimiya had asked when they would begin breeding more Royal Beasts at the sanctuary. True to Seimiya’s character, her words were gentle, but the fact that she mentioned breeding at all—something she’d always avoided—could have meant people were beginning to question Elin’s methods. Knowing how Elin felt about making a Royal Beast corps, Seimiya was probably concerned that none of the Beasts but Leelan showed any sign of breeding. Perhaps she also wanted to confirm Elin’s true intentions so she could refute point-blank the doubts of her subjects. Esalu looked at the Royal Beasts napping in the sun. “Lesseh and the others have certainly grown, haven’t they?” she said. The youngest were perched partway up a cliff, their wings spread toward the sun as they warmed their bellies. These were new additions brought to the sanctuary from the wild three years earlier. Of the four, Lesseh and Osseh were males, while Kaseh and Fuseh were females; they were all nearly four years old. “Do you think they’ll take their mating flight this spring?” Esalu asked. Royal Beasts in the wild matured and began breeding at the age of four, but Nola, Ukalu, and Tohba still hadn’t mated, even though they’d been brought to Kazalumu Sanctuary many years ago and were closer to Leelan in rank. When Leelan came into heat, they became restless, but they didn’t fly and mate. Leelan and Eku were the only mating pair in the sanctuary, and only their offspring increased. “I wonder what’s stopping them from maturing,” Esalu said. They had raised all the Beasts just as they had raised Leelan. What could be the difference? Sunk in thought, Esalu and Elin gazed at the Royal Beasts standing on the snowy plain. Far in the distance, the school bell announced the evening hour. The two stirred and looked at each other. “I’ll tell Lady Seimiya everything we’ve done so far,” Elin murmured. Esalu frowned, but after a brief pause, nodded. “Yes, I guess you should.” Elin adjusted her grip on the harp and strummed notes that urged the Royal Beasts back to the stables. At the sound, they spread their wings and leaped into the sky. They’re pretty late. Jesse stamped his feet in the snow and gazed at the sky. He’d been waiting a long time. He’d tried shaping the white puffs of his breath on the air and sculpting Royal Beasts from the snow that had collected on the branches, but it was just too cold. Yet he didn’t want to go home either. It was partly because all his friends had gone back to their families for winter break, and he was bored and lonely. But it was also because this was his only chance to spend time with the Royal Beasts, and he’d been looking forward to it. There was no spare time during the school term, but since the holidays had started, he’d slipped through the woods every day to the training grounds, careful not to let his mother or the headmistress see him. There, he’d watched his mother studying and training the Beasts. By now he could guess the meaning of every sound Elin’s harp produced. He cupped his hands around his hot water bottle to warm them, occasionally touching it to his nose as well. At last, he heard the faint sound of a harp far in the distance. “Ah! Finally!” Through a lace of dark branches, he stared at the snow-laden sky. Soon he heard the soft whir of wings, then saw the shapes of the Royal Beasts against the gray clouds. At this, he shoved two fingers in his mouth and let out a short, sharp whistle. One of the Beasts turned its head and looked down as it crossed the heavens. Jesse’s face lit up. “Alu,” he called, keeping his voice low. Alu saw him and, leaving the pack, dropped down, deftly evading the tree branches. The wind from the Beast’s enormous wings hit Jesse in the face as he skipped over the snow. Alu landed in a little hollow, and he ran over and buried his face in her chest. The warm scent of Beast was mixed with a whiff of snow and wind. Of all the Royal Beasts, Jesse loved Alu best. They’d been together since he was little. He thought of Leelan as his mother’s, and Alu as his own. Listening to the rumbling sound of Alu’s breathing, he clung to her while she looked down at him affectionately, as if he were a playful little brother. When he’d hugged her long enough, Jesse stepped back and pulled a large paper bag from his cloak. It contained eight baked sweets covered in red sugar. Catching the scent, Alu made a cooing sound as though she couldn’t wait. Shashasha. She loved sweets. Jesse popped them in her mouth, and she gobbled them up before licking her nose contentedly. Jesse brushed the crumbs from her chest. “See you, Alu,” he said. He wished he could stay longer, but if she arrived much later than the others, it might make people worry and cause a big fuss. Perhaps she’d had enough sweets, because Alu flew off without protest when he gave her a shove, following her family to the stable. The inside of the stable was dark and warmed by the heat of the Royal Beasts. The dinner bell rang. Elin raised her head from the book on her writing desk. Is it already this late? Time literally seemed to fly by these days. She’d better hurry home or Jesse would grumble that he was starving. She folded the sheaf of papers on which she’d been jotting down what she wanted to tell Seimiya and stuffed it into the front of her robe, then stood up and put out the fire. As she always did before leaving the stable, she took the lantern and went to each stall to check on Leelan, Eku, and their children. Leelan and Eku were sound asleep. She passed their stalls and came to a halt in front of Alu. She stared at the face of the sleeping Beast, who should already have been a mature female, and spoke to her silently. Alu, you’re old enough to be an adult. Why haven’t you grown up? Memories passed through her mind one by one. Alu when she had dropped from her mother’s womb, a wet ball of fur. Alu nuzzling Elin insistently and cooing plaintively. In the wild, she would have mated, given birth, and raised cubs long ago, yet she was still like a cub herself. When she wasn’t training, she showed no interest in soaring through the air and instead spent her time napping in the pasture. Somehow she reminded Elin of the Beasts in the sanctuary that had dull gray wings and were raised on, and controlled by, tokujisui. I’m missing some crucial key in their development. The Royal Ancestor Jeh would have known what kept Beasts raised in the sanctuary from mating even though they weren’t given tokujisui. And what was needed for them to mature and mate. After all, she’d bred two thousand of them. Elin pursed her lips and stared at the Royal Beasts. What had these creatures been to Jeh? She could understand Jeh’s longing to avert another catastrophe, and why she had chosen this difficult path to lead her people to prosperity. But her eyes had been fixed solely on her people, not on what was best for the Royal Beasts. The way Jeh and her descendants had dealt with both the Royal Beasts and the Toda had been cruel. To cement royal power, and later to gain crushing military strength, they’d used these creatures as convenient tools, warping their bodies for their own ends without a thought for their health or well-being. They’d perverted the lives of these creatures to preserve the lives of their people. Elin took a deep breath. And now here she was, training Royal Beasts to fly into battle. But her goal wasn’t the same as Jeh’s. “I cannot set you free,” she whispered to Alu. “I may be leading you to your death. Yet, even so…” Swallowing the rest of her sentence, she closed her eyes. Perhaps disturbed by the murmur of Elin’s voice, Alu stirred and ran her tongue over the tip of her nose. A sweet scent wafted on the air. Elin’s eyes flicked open, and her brow furrowed. Alu hadn’t been fed anything that would give off such a sweet scent. Bringing her face up against the cage bars, she raised the lantern. Something glittered on Alu’s chest. Squinting, Elin made out grains of red sugar clinging to her fur. A chill spread through her. Jesse … When he was little, Jesse had always split his sweets with Alu. Elin had made him put the sweets in the feed box, warning him sharply that he must never feed her by hand; it was too dangerous. Maybe he’d fed her by hand when she wasn’t looking. She grimaced and left the stables. 2 BEAST FANGS When Elin approached the house, the younger guard’s head was poking out the window, watching for her. He opened the door and let her inside. “It’s a cold day, isn’t it?” he said. Exposed to the frigid air, the skin on his face was white except for his nose. The middle-aged guard was in the back making dinner, but he looked up and bowed as Elin came through. “Yes, indeed! It’s very cold. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” Elin said. “Please go ahead and eat your dinner.” The young guard grinned. “I’m all right,” he said, “but young Jesse has been banging his plate with his spoon for some time now.” Elin nodded and strode through the passageway to the door of her house. The living room with the hearth in its center lay beyond the dirt-floored kitchen, which was equipped with a clay oven and sink. Jesse was sitting by the hearth, clanging his spoon against a plate. Catching sight of Elin, he scowled and started banging the plate harder. “You’re so late!” he exclaimed. Noticing the expression on her face, he paused, spoon in midair. He had grown so much he was beginning to look like a youth, but at the moment, his uneasy expression showed he was still a boy. “Come on. We’re going to the stable,” Elin said as she turned and left the room. The guards, who had just sat down and were balancing a bowl of stew on their knees, looked up with curious eyes. “Where are you going?” one of them asked. “I’m so sorry, but I must take Jesse to the stable. I’ll ring the little bell outside the building when we leave to let you know we’re coming back. Please carry on with your meal.” Resting his bowl of stew on the edge of the hearth, the young guard stood up and took down a lantern from the wall. He lit it and handed it to Elin while the older guard rose and opened the door. A cold gust of air swirled into the room with a flurry of snowflakes. The guard glanced at the sky, so black not a star could be seen. “It’s snowing pretty bad now,” he murmured. Elin nodded and stepped into the night. She felt Jesse staring at her nervously, but she didn’t spare him even a glance. Outside, the brutal cold gripped her body. Although the stable was close, her cheeks and nose burned with the cold of the howling wind. Even when she reached the building, her hands were so icy she had trouble unlocking the door. Stepping inside, she felt her body relax into the air warmed by the Beasts. Leelan and the others stirred at the sound of the door, but closed their eyes when they saw it was Elin and Jesse who had entered. Elin hung the lantern on the wall and looked down at her son. “You know why I brought you here, don’t you?” Jesse looked up at her. “Yeah. I know.” He bowed his head as if resigned to his fate. “I’m sorry,” he said. Elin watched him without responding. He began to fidget, rubbing his hands against his thighs and stubbing his toe against the ground. “Jesse,” Elin finally said, her voice quiet. “Sometimes it’s meaningless to say you’re sorry. What I want from you is not an apology.” Jesse’s face tensed. She could see the confusion in his eyes. What was he supposed to do if she wouldn’t forgive him when he apologized? “When you believe a promise you’ve made is important, Jesse, you never break it. The fact that you broke your promise shows you don’t understand why it’s necessary. Am I right?” Jesse frowned. “You can’t understand why you shouldn’t be allowed to go near the Royal Beasts. Isn’t that it?” “Well, yeah,” Jesse mumbled. Then he lifted his jaw defiantly. “It’s just so unfair. Why am I the only one who’s not allowed to go near them? You get to be with them all the time. I want to be with them, too!” His shrill voice pierced the air. The Beasts stirred, opening their eyes, and Jesse clapped his hands over his mouth. But Elin watched him silently without glancing at the Beasts. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she said, “You know that’s not true. You’re not the only one. In fact, no one but Professor Esalu and I can go to the training grounds. None of the other students can go either. Not even Professor Tomura’s allowed in. And, Jesse, I never go near the Beasts without the Silent Whistle. And I would never, ever feed them sweets. In fact, if there’s anyone who thinks he deserves special treatment, it’s you.” Jesse frowned. “What do you mean?” Elin’s voice was hard. “Are you telling me you really don’t know? I can read your mind, Jesse. You’re thinking that Alu would never hurt you. Right?” Jesse’s eyes wavered. A muscle bulged in his jaw as though he was steeling himself against being told something he didn’t want to hear, something he didn’t want to know. Elin watched him steadily. His eyes said, ‘I know what you’re going to say. The same thing you always say. I’m sick and tired of hearing it.’ He was just thirteen. When she was his age, she had felt the same way. No matter how hard people had tried to convince her, she hadn’t understood. Not when she turned fourteen or eighteen either. But she had to make him see. Because if she waited until he was ripped to pieces, it would be too late. Turning on her heel, she walked to the back of the stables, grabbed a long-handled broom that was leaning against the wall, and came back to his side. She looked down at him. “I’ve lived with Leelan since long before you were born, Jesse,” she said. “I love her a lot, just as you love Alu. And I think Leelan loves me, too. You can feel that, can’t you?” Jesse nodded warily, uncertain where this was leading. “But, Jesse, listen. If I were to smack Leelan with this broom while she’s sleeping, she’d bare her fangs and snap at me. If she bit me, she’d cut my fingers off just like that.” She held her left hand in front of his face, revealing the stumps of three missing fingers. “When Leelan chomped these off, she was mad with rage. She bit off the nose, lips, and hand of the man in front of her and ate them. If I hadn’t blown the Silent Whistle, she would have torn off my head without a second thought.” Shaking, Elin took a deep breath. “That’s the kind of creatures Royal Beasts are. No matter how well they know you, no matter how fond of you they are, they could still gobble you up in a reflex action.” Jesse stared up at her, his face white and rigid. Elin gripped the broom tightly. “Grownups warned me so many times, Jesse. But I never believed them. In the bottom of my heart, I was sure Leelan would never harm me. I believed that she would turn her fangs aside so as not to hurt me. I never dreamed she would bite off my fingers and eat them—until she did.” Quietly, Elin turned and walked to Leelan’s cage. With the broom still gripped in one hand, she opened the upper half of the door. Realizing from his mother’s face and actions what she was about to do, Jesse opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Before his terrified gaze, she raised the broom and jabbed Leelan in the stomach. Leelan’s eyes flew open, and her enormous jaws snapped up the broom, handle and all. Jesse saw his mother let go of the broom as though she’d been burned and topple over backward. Leelan chewed the broom to pieces, spewing fragments across the floor. Raising her wings, she broke into a menacing growl, waking the other Beasts, who flapped their wings in agitation. Sprawled on the floor and gripping her right hand tightly with her left, Elin said over and over, “I’m so sorry, Leelan. I’m so sorry.” Maybe it was the tone of her voice or maybe it was because she had only hit her with a broom, but Leelan didn’t threaten her for long. She grumbled sulkily for a while, then fell quiet. Even so, the fur on her chest bristled, and she shifted restlessly. Elin rose, gritting her teeth. Cautiously she approached the cage and closed it gently before returning to Jesse’s side. Blood seeped from the fingers of her right hand where she gripped it with her left. Jesse paled and began trembling. “M-mom…,” he gasped. She smiled reassuringly. “I’m all right. She just grazed my finger, that’s all. Get me the first aid kit, will you?” After dashing over to the shelf, Jesse lifted down the kit with both hands and brought it to his mother. She was sitting by the stove stirring the embers in the fire. The flames flared up, and their light fell on her blood-soaked right hand. Sniffing back his sobs, Jesse plunked himself down beside his mother and stared at the crimson stain spreading along her skin. “Open the lid and get out the bottle of atsune infusion,” Elin said. “Yes, that’s the one. See that cotton? Soak it with the infusion and give it to me, please.” Jesse did as he was told and poured the liquid over the cloth. His hands were shaking so badly that he spilled quite a lot on the floor. The pungent odor stung his nostrils. He passed the cotton to his mother, and she dabbed the wound with it. No matter how much she wiped, however, blood kept welling up. “Give me some more of that cotton, Jesse. Just the dry cotton is fine.” She pressed it tightly against the wound for some time, then carefully removed it, revealing the cut. There was a deep gash in the flesh between her index finger and thumb. Jesse drew in a sharp breath. Shaking violently, he screwed up his face and resisted the urge to turn away, keeping his eyes fixed on the wound. Elin reached into the first aid kit with her left hand and removed a needle that had already been threaded. “Take some cotton soaked in atsune and wipe the needle with it, will you?” Biting his lower lip, Jesse sterilized the needle. The wind picked up, and the roof rattled. The flames wavered in puffs of air that had forced their way through a crack in the wall. Mother and son huddled around the dim light cast by the fire, tending the wound and saying only what was necessary. The silent Beasts stood like statues shrouded in darkness. 3 VOICE IN A DREAM The distance from the stable to their home was short, but as they walked, Elin could feel chills coming on. She guessed it wasn’t so much from being bitten as from pushing herself for too long. Fatigue assailed her, and occasionally, her body was racked with shudders. Her joints ached. Not wanting to make Jesse feel any worse, Elin hid her discomfort. They ate dinner and went to bed as usual. But lying beside him, the chills that shook her grew steadily worse. She wrapped the quilt around her tightly and shook uncontrollably until her body flushed with heat and she burst into a sweat. Perhaps her fever had reached its peak. In her fevered dreams, Elin heard Leelan’s voice. As a child, she’d dreamed before of Leelan speaking like a human. “Children must be kicked from the nest,” Leelan said. She spread her wings and raised her head to the sky, letting out a roar. Even that sounded like a voice. “When they’re kicked from the nest, they become parents.” This scene ran through Elin’s brain repeatedly. She woke. The strange slumber clung to her like the bottom of a muddy bog, and she had to fight to peel herself away. It was still dark, and the house was wrapped snuggly in the stillness of snow. She pulled her right arm from the sweat-drenched covers, and the dull ache in her hand became a vivid throbbing. Her throat was parched. Reaching for the cup she’d placed by her pillow, Elin took a long pull on the spout. As she gulped the icy water, she felt her body relax. The wind had died down, and the only sound in the darkness was the steady breathing of her son beside her. Why had she had that dream? Because she was worried about Alu? Because she felt guilty about hitting Leelan with the broom and scolding Jesse so harshly? Placing a hand on her sweat-beaded forehead, she felt her fever. “Children must be kicked from the nest.” She ran these words over in her mind. She’d heard them before. But from whom? Unable to sleep, she searched through distant memories until an old familiar face rose behind her closed eyelids. I’d hate to be kicked out of home! Good thing I was born human. She recalled Yuyan’s soft voice, the grimace on her face as she’d whispered in Elin’s ear. Following that voice, the memory came back to her. Ah, that’s right. It was in class. A day long ago floated into her mind like a faded picture. Her desk bathed in honey-colored light from the afternoon sun; Yuyan sitting in front of her; Professor Losa, a teacher Elin disliked, lecturing on how foxes raised their young and sent them out into the world … But why would I remember something that happened so long ago? The fever must have affected her brain. After all, there was no way Leelan could have talked to her about children and nests. Something clicked inside. Opening her eyes, Elin stared blankly at the darkness, watching an idea take shape in her mind. “Honestly! You never learn, do you?” Esalu said with a sigh. Jesse had dragged the headmistress to their house, and Elin was now struggling to sit up under her stern gaze. “You haven’t changed a bit,” Esalu continued. “You get so caught up in things that you never stop to consider your health. If you go on like this, you’re going to get really sick. You’re not as young as you think, you know.” After scolding Elin roundly, Esalu knelt down and rested a hand on her forehead. “Your fever’s not so high.” “It went down after I broke into a sweat,” Elin said weakly. “I’m so sorry you had to come out here this early in the morning.” Esalu snorted. “I’m used to it. Children are always getting into mischief at odd hours of the day. Although no one gets into as much trouble as you.” She unwrapped the bandage on Elin’s hand and deftly examined the wound. “Considering that you were grazed by Leelan’s teeth, it’s a pretty clean cut. Not much swelling either.” Esalu glanced at Jesse, who was peering at his mother’s hand. “Now, boy, when someone gets bitten by a beast and comes down with a fever, what do you need to watch out for?” Jesse wrinkled his nose. “I haven’t learned that yet.” “In that case, remember what I tell you. There are several things you need to keep an eye out for.” Jesse’s face blanched as she described the symptoms of rabies and tetanus. “Does she have those?” he asked fearfully. Esalu shrugged. “Who knows? But I think we can assume she doesn’t have rabies by now. You should watch out for signs of tetanus, though. Make sure you take good care of her.” Jesse nodded, looking quite anxious, and Esalu smiled. “Time to start your nursing duties. Go make her some breakfast. She’s got a fever, so make something that’s nutritious but easy to digest to build up her strength.” “Okay.” “Hop to it!” Esalu snapped. Jesse jumped to attention, then disappeared into the kitchen to escape any further scolding. Esalu and Elin smiled as they watched him go. “It’s good to give him a fright sometimes,” Esalu said. “After all, his mother never gave up no matter how many times I scared her.” With a wry smile, Elin nodded. Then she turned serious. “May I ask you a favor?” she said. “Could you please send for Olamu? I want to see him.” Esalu frowned. “Olamu? You mean the Beast Hunter?” “Yes.” “But what for? He must be quite old now. I heard that his son took over his job.” Elin nodded. “Yes, that’s what his son told me when he brought Lesseh here. Olamu may be old, but if his mind’s still sharp, there’s something I want to ask him.” The gleam of curiosity in Esalu’s eyes deepened. “You went and visited him once before, didn’t you? With Jesse on your back.” “Yes. Olamu helped me when I was trying to learn about Royal Beasts in the wild. I doubt there’s anyone alive who knows them as well as he does.” Esalu’s brows rose. “He’s pretty stubborn, though.” Elin grinned. “Yes, he is. But all the Beast Hunters are.” “True.” Having disinfected the wound, Esalu began winding a bandage around it. “What do you want to ask him?” she said. When Elin told her, Esalu paused and raised her face. She stared at Elin for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I see. That’s a possibility all right,” she murmured. Excitement kindled in her eyes. “Are you going to tell the Yojeh?” Elin shook her head. “No, not yet. I’ll describe the current situation, but in a way that lets her know I haven’t given up hope that Alu and the others will mature.” Esalu nodded. “Yes, that would be best. I’ll tell the messenger to wait a little longer. You won’t be able to write properly with that hand, so dictate what you want to say. I’ll write it for you.” “Thank you. I’m sorry to trouble you.” Esalu’s lips twitched. “I’m sure the Yojeh will be happy I’m writing it. Your handwriting’s so hard to read.” Although her words were sharp, her expression was bright and cheerful. Elin loved this teacher who never lost her curiosity, no matter how old she got. 4 THE BEAST HUNTER Olamu came to visit just before the snow melted. He had grown somewhat stooped with age, but with a leather satchel slung across his back and a hatchet hanging from his waist, he still resembled the tough and vigorous hunter who used to dart through the deep forests to capture Royal Beast cubs. Sitting down at the hearth in Esalu’s office, he gruffly accepted the hot tea the headmistress served him. The refreshing citrusy aroma coupled with the hiss of steam from the earthenware teapot reminded Elin of when Joeun had brought her here so many years ago. “Thank you so much for coming all this way to see me,” she said. Olamu pulled in his jaw a little at this. “Ain’t much fer me to do right now. It’ll be a while before the rulers of our valley start movin’.” The hunters called the Royal Beasts “rulers” and named each one after the territory it controlled. When Elin had trekked through the mountains with Jesse on her back to visit Olamu, he had told her to leave the wild Beasts to the hunters and slammed the door in her face. She was a teacher from the sanctuary, he’d insisted, so she should have stuck to caring for the Royal Beasts they captured. That was her job. Hunting grounds were passed down from father to son. As these boundaries were considered sacred, it was no wonder that Olamu had taken offense when Elin had trespassed on his territory. But she’d felt crushed, having hoped he would teach her what he knew about these creatures’ habits. Still, she hadn’t given up. She forged into the mountains with Jesse, setting up camp in the woods each night after spending the day searching for Royal Beasts. Three days after Olamu turned her away, she was overjoyed to stumble upon a Royal Beast perched partway down a steep cliff. She set up her tent well outside the Beast’s personal territory and began watching. She had been there for about four days when Olamu appeared in front of her tent. Although he looked just as fierce as when he had shut her out of his house, this time he didn’t shout at her. Clearing his throat, he said, “My son thinks you’re the one who rescued the lord of Akadake. Is that true?” By the lord of Akadake, he meant Eku, the mature male that had been wounded trying to protect his cub and brought to Kazalumu for treatment. It was Olamu who had accidentally caused the injury, a miscalculation he thought would shame him for life. He had wept when he learned that Eku had not only been healed at the sanctuary, but had mated with Leelan and miraculously conceived a cub. All this he told Elin. From then on, he had guided her through the mountains, sharing experiences from his long career. Although she had only been able to stay a month, Elin had gleaned much from Olamu about how Royal Beasts lived in the wild. In Esalu’s office, Olamu placed his cup on the table and raised his face. “That talkative chap who brought me here, is that the babe you were carryin’ on your back?” Elin’s mouth crooked. “Yes, and my apologies. I hope he didn’t talk your ear off.” Olamu’s eyes twinkled. “Well, he certainly was full of questions, that one. ‘What’s that hatchet for? What’s in your bag? How d’ya find them Royal Beasts?’ Couldn’t get a word in edgewise.” He sighed. “If your babe’s grown that big now, no wonder I feel old.” He reached into a small pouch on his belt and took out a roll of tobacco. Lighting it in the hearth, he took a long, leisurely drag. Esalu, who hated tobacco smoke, frowned but said nothing. “This here’s the only good thing about retirin’. Can’t smoke when you’re a hunter. It’s taboo.” Before entering the mountains, Beast Hunters rubbed their bodies with different things to change their scent and erase any human odor. Royal Beasts were extremely smart. Once they knew a hunter’s scent, they would be on their guard whenever they detected it again. The tobacco flared and hissed as Olamu took another pull. His face relaxed. Jutting out his chin a little, he asked, “So? What do you want?” Elin put down her cup. “There’s something I want to ask. Do Royal Beasts do anything to help their young come of age?” Olamu’s forehead wrinkled. “Come of age? You mean somethin’ to make ’em leave home?” “That’s right.” Olamu grinned. “You called me all the way here just to ask me that?” “Yes. I thought if they did, only the Beast Hunters would have seen it. It’s a question I never thought to ask before.” Olamu’s expression grew serious. “Hmm. So the ones in the sanctuary don’t, huh?” Elin leaned forward eagerly. “You mean Royal Beasts in the wild do, then? They have a way of forcing their cubs to leave?” Olamu nodded. “Yup. Sure do. Seen it many times. They won’t let their cub back in the nest. Pretty rough business. They spread their wings wide, like this, see? And screech. When the cub tries to get at the nest, they beat it off. Bit of a shock I guess. Cubs probably wonder what’s goin’ on. They keep tryin’ to get in, but’re driven off every time. Sometimes it gets real bad. The parents even kick and bite their cubs.” A stillness spread through Elin’s chest. Just as I thought. Here lay a clue to why Royal Beasts born in the sanctuary failed to mature and reproduce. Olamu flicked the ash from his tobacco. “Bit heartbreakin’ to watch. But that don’t happen in the sanctuary, huh? Well, I suppose it wouldn’t. Not when you feed ’em all the time like a cub. No need for ’em to grow up and hunt.” Elin nodded. “That’s right. The Royal Beasts here don’t hunt. I think that everything else may actually be related to that fact.” Pouring more tea into Olamu’s cup, she asked, “What happens to a cub when its parents chase it away?” Olamu smiled. “There now. That’s the real question. ’Cause wherever it ends up, that’s where new cubs’ll be born. For us, that’s what matters.” “Do they set up their own territory as soon as they leave the nest?” “Nope. Ain’t that easy. They have to fly pretty far. Far enough to find a place to nest where they won’t meet up with their parents when they hunt. But those places’re usually already taken. Still, Royal Beasts rule the valley. No need for them to have lots of kids like weaker beasts. Guess in a way, their worst enemy is themselves. They’re pretty long-lived, but most only bear about two cubs in their lifetime, probably ’cause it’s too hard to find new territory.” Esalu nodded slightly at his words and glanced at Elin. “Leelan was raised at the Kazalumu Sanctuary,” Elin said to Olamu. “She and Eku have already had three cubs, but none of them have matured. Not only that, but even beasts brought here from the wild don’t mate. I think the environment in the sanctuary must have something to do with it.” “Hmm.” Olamu stroked his chin. “Might be it’s too small.” “I agree. I also think that having so many Royal Beasts living here together is a big part of the issue. The sanctuary’s much smaller than the territory Royal Beasts are used to in the wild, and it’s a flat meadow surrounded by a fence. Instead of staking out territory in a river valley with no other Beasts in sight, they’re all forced to live in this space where they can see one another all the time. Maybe they form a large artificial family unit so they can live together without fighting and killing one another.” “With Leelan and Eku as the parents and the rest as their children,” Esalu murmured. “I see.” Olamu breathed out a long stream of smoke. “Could be. After all, they hate livin’ close together. If they see other Royal Beasts in the distance, they make a sound to warn ’em not to come closer. And any that do come close suddenly swerve and fly away, as if to avoid hittin’ an invisible wall or somethin’.” He turned and looked out the window. “On a flat plain like this, with all the Beasts in sight, you’d have one terrible battle on your hands if they all began matin’. Wouldn’t put it past ’em to figure that out and avoid matin’ at all.” His eyes narrowed, as if lost in thought, then he looked at Elin. “Did I ever mention how our territories are made?” “You mean the hunters’ territories?” Elin asked. “Yeah.” “No, I don’t think you did.” Olamu nodded. Fingering his tobacco, he began. “What I’m about to tell you is a secret just for the hunters, so first promise you won’t tell anyone.” He waited until he saw Elin and Esalu nod before continuing. “The territory of each hunter family’s just a single valley that’s passed on from one generation to the next. Each valley’s ruled by one grand pair of Royal Beasts, and hunters only capture the grand pair’s cubs.” Elin’s eyes widened. “Grand pair?” “Yup. Like I said, cubs booted from home fly a long ways away, but they never leave their valley. If they flew into a different one, they’d be in trouble. The offspring of the grand pair that ruled that valley would chase ’em out.” Elin leaned forward. “You mean Royal Beasts born from the same parents stake out territory in the same valley?” Olamu drew on his tobacco, then slowly exhaled the smoke. “That’s right. The grand pair produce a lot of young, but their offspring don’t. When the female of the grand pair grows too old to mate, a female in her grandkid’s generation usually starts bearing more young. We look at her and her mate and think to ourselves, Ah, there’s the next grand pair that’ll rule the valley.” Elin and Esalu listened enthralled. When the female of the grand pair grows too old to mate, a female in her grandchildren’s generation starts bearing more young. Excitement stirred in Elin’s breast. Even in the sanctuary, Leelan got pregnant as soon as one of the other Beasts died, almost as if she was trying to control the number of cubs she bore to keep from over populating the space. After another drag of his tobacco, Olamu continued. “Royal Beasts avoid livin’ too close, but a mated pair and their offspring get along pretty well. Siblings’ll stake out territories next to one another, pretty big territories, so they’re scattered throughout a single valley. Kinda like a loose pack. “Females stay in the same valley all their lives, but when it’s matin’ season, young males’ll fly to other valleys to find mates. If they tried to enter a different valley at any other time of year, all the siblings in that valley would gang up on ’em to protect their territory.” “They cooperate to fight off intruders?” Elin asked. “Yeah. Well, not really fight. More like chase ’em out. If they see one in the distance, they’ll warn ’em not to come close. But they do fight, and fiercely, too, if an outsider trespasses to get food or tries to take over their territory.” Elin stared at him. So I was right, she thought. Royal Beasts live in packs. Probably not very large ones. They looked like solitary creatures because they each had their own large territory and lived scattered through a single valley. But she guessed that if she could view them from above, she’d see the shape of the pack with the grand pair at the top ruling over their children and their mates. She rubbed her hands, which had grown clammy and cold as a quiet excitement had spread through her. Her hypothesis had been right. Leelan and Eku are the grand pair that rules Kazalumu. Olamu looked out the window again and exhaled a puff of smoke. It was still early spring, and a gentle light caressed the meadow. His eyes narrowed. “Wind smells like sasha,” he murmured. “Means it’ll be matin’ season soon.” He turned his gaze to Elin. “So what’re you gonna do?” For a moment, Elin could only stare at him. Glancing at Esalu, she finally said, “I’ll write to Her Majesty, the Yojeh, and ask her to expand the pasture area. There’re some good places in the valley where I’ve been training them. I’ll move the younger beasts to those places before mating season begins and…” She swallowed what she was about to say, but Olamu could guess. He smiled wryly. “No need to look so apologetic like. Sure, if you succeed in increasin’ the Royal Beasts, you won’t be needin’ us no more. Some of the hunters’ll probably hate you for it.” He tapped his tobacco with a finger to knock off the ashes. “But there’s no changin’ the flow of the times, is there? Maybe I’ll be cursed for sayin’ this, but everythin’ changed the day Her Majesty wed the Aluhan. I hear the next Yojeh’ll have dark eyes. If so, shouldn’t be any problem if the rulers of the valley’ve changed, too.” He ground his tobacco into the edge of the hearth and stood up. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll be off, then.” Without waiting for Elin to stand, he slung his satchel across his shoulder and left the room. Elin ran after him. He strode so quickly down the corridor that she only caught up with him at the entrance. Outside, he stood gazing at the pasture bathed in the soft light. Here and there, Royal Beasts napped in the sunshine. “They ain’t rulers,” he said as if to himself. He flicked his eyes to Elin. “You told me once you wanted to return ’em to the wild. I’m guessin’ that ain’t gonna work. They got no fangs. Fangs for chewin’ up their prey. Ain’t no way Beasts used to livin’ like this could defend their territory ’gainst Royal Beasts in the wild.” Elin looked at Leelan and the others. “You’re probably right. For them, this is the wild.” Olamu opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead raised a hand and turned his back on her. “Thank you,” Elin called after him. He raised his hand again without looking back. Elin bowed deeply as the elderly hunter strode away. 5 LEAF EMBLEM Kazalumu School, which had many students, attracted a stream of peddlers that came each day to sell their wares. Some sold fish caught fresh that morning in the nearby river; others sold fabric to make clothes and bedding. The early afternoon, when the students sat quietly at their desks studying, was a busy but enjoyable time of day for the dorm mother, Kalisa, and her assistants as they examined the wares and decided what to buy. Since she had begun living in Kazalumu, Elin also bought everything she needed from the peddlers. Often, however, she was too busy to shop and cook for herself, and she would pay Kalisa a little extra to bring her the same meals she cooked for the students. On a day when clear spring sunlight flooded the pasture, Elin picked up her shopping basket for the first time in a long while and headed behind the school. From the spring of the previous year, she had spent most of her time settling Alu and Ukalu in a spot far from Leelan and the others, and the lighthearted voices of Kalisa and the other women haggling with the merchants made her heart sing. Kalisa’s plump face broke into a broad smile at the sight of her. “Mistress Elin!” she called out. Although she had aged a great deal since Elin first arrived at the school as a student, she still tackled her duties as dorm mother with the same enthusiasm. Elin recalled how kind she had been to her and Yuyan. When they had come back drenched from playing in the river, she had stripped them down and doused them in hot water from head to toe. Elin felt awkward to be called mistress by her former dorm mother, but Kalisa ignored her pleas to stop. Elin walked over and gently touched her elbow. “Thank you so much for bringing me meals for the past ten days.” Kalisa laughed and waved her hand. “You’ve nothing to thank me for. Such an easy task! Have things calmed down a bit, then?” “Yes, finally! Alu and Ukalu have gotten used to their new home.” The women were gathered around a vendor selling red-haired crabs taken from Kazalumu River. “Those look delicious,” Elin exclaimed. “So it’s red-haired crab season, is it?” Kalisa pushed her way through the group of women, and, grasping a gleaming crab fat with eggs, handed it to Elin. “Red-haired crabs come into season just as the other crabs disappear. Eat well, Elin, and put some meat back on your bones.” “Thank you.” Elin took the crab in her hands. Looking at its big red claws, she broke into a smile. “I always think of Yuyan whenever I see these,” she said. “Me too,” Kalisa said with a chuckle. When Elin was a student, one of her classmates who had never seen a crab before wanted to take one home to show his family. After the meal, he had taken an empty crab shell, limbs and all, washed it carefully, and reassembled it so neatly that it looked real. He glued it together with nyukilu, a kind of glue that didn’t melt when heated. Yuyan had discovered it and, delighted to find a leftover crab, boiled it up again. When the other students, including Elin, noticed, they spied on her to see what she would do. Eyes shining with anticipation, Yuyan had taken a pair of scissors and cut off one of the legs. Seeing that it was empty, she had exclaimed, “Darn! This crab has shed its skin!” The incident was a standing joke among her friends for years afterward. “Yes, she was quite a character, wasn’t she?” Kalisa said. “She made me laugh so much. Thanks to her, you weren’t lonely either.” “That’s for sure.” Kalisa’s face suddenly grew serious. “That reminds me! I was just waiting until the next time I saw you to tell you something. Did you realize that Jesse doesn’t have the leaf emblem embroidered on his belt?” “Emblem?” Crab still in hand, Elin wrinkled her brow. “Oh no!” she exclaimed. The women and the merchants all looked up to see what the fuss was about. Elin flushed and waved her hand, crab and all, trying to let them know that everything was fine. “I completely forgot,” she said to Kalisa. “He’s in the middle level now, isn’t he?” When students successfully completed their first year at Kazalumu, their parents embroidered an unfurling leaf on their school belts during the summer holidays. The emblem expressed their parents’ hopes that their budding talents would continue to unfold in the coming year. Most parents splurged on gold thread, so the emblem was also called the golden leaf. The number of golden leaves on a student’s belt showed what level he or she was in. Elin clapped a hand to her forehead. Poor Jesse. How could she have done this to him? She may have been preoccupied with the Royal Beasts, but to have forgotten the emblem for a whole six months. She couldn’t believe it. Kalisa patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. Jesse may be a rascal sometimes, but he’s very considerate, you know. When his friends teased him about it, he told them that taking care of the Royal Beasts is a lot of work and he certainly wasn’t going to bother you by asking you to embroider his belt. That shut them up.” But her words only made Elin feel worse. Crestfallen, she asked, “Do you have any gold thread?” Kalisa shook her head. “Sorry. I just ran out. The thread merchant won’t be back for quite a while, but there’s no need to hurry at this point, is there?” Elin rested her chin against the crab in her hand, then gave a crooked grin. “I’m taking a half day off tomorrow. I’ll ask the headmistress if I can take Jesse to town with me.” Kalisa’s face crinkled in a smile. “That’s a good idea. Jesse will be thrilled. And it’ll be good to spend some time together. For both of you. Go and enjoy yourself.” Jesse grumbled that he’d promised to play ozaggu, a ballgame, with his friends that afternoon and that it was embarrassing to go to town with his mother, but his steps were light as he walked beside her. “Well, I guess this means you’ve finally realized your duty as a mother, doesn’t it? I suppose that at least is a good thing,” he said, nodding to himself. Elin flicked him a glance. “Jesse, do you talk to your friends like that? Don’t they hate you for being so cheeky?” Jesse laughed through his nose. “Are you kidding? Cheeky kids who don’t back down get a lot of respect. Sometimes the older kids give me a whack, but I don’t care. Never mind that. If you’re going to embroider a leaf for me, make it a worm-eaten one, will you?” Elin’s mouth twitched in a wry smile. “What’s funny about that?” said Jesse. “Is that still a fad?” Elin asked. Jesse looked puzzled. “Still? It was our level that started it. The older ones never did that. Chikki told us before he went home for the summer that he was going to get his with holes in it, so we all decided to get ours done that way, too.” Elin’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Amazing. That means that children come up with the same idea in every generation. When I was a student, it was Kashugan. You know, Auntie Yuyan’s husband.” “Oh, yeah.” “When he came back with a worm-eaten leaf, all the other boys copied him.” Jesse looked surprised. “Really? So somewhere there’ll always be a kid like Chikki, then.” His face sobered. “That feels kind of funny, doesn’t it? I wonder if people will just continue on like this forever. One of them will get the idea and then everyone else will copy them, thinking they’re the first to have a worm-eaten leaf.” Elin smiled. “Maybe. It’s certainly possible.” The small thread shop sold more than thread. It was crammed with bags embroidered with various designs and bolts of cloth. Spools of neatly wound embroidery thread gleamed in the sun that slanted through the window. “Excuse me,” Elin called out, and a woman who had been sipping tea in the back looked up. Her eyes widened. “Elin! I haven’t seen you for ages! Come in!” Wiping her hands on her hips, she slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and came closer, staring intently at Elin and Jesse. “And are you Jesse? My, how you’ve grown!” “It has been a long time, hasn’t it, Yuji? You haven’t changed a bit,” Elin said. Yuji waved her plump hands. “Oh, but I have. I’ve gained weight, and my back hurts.” The smell of thread and the sound of Yuji’s chatter brought back another life. Elin had come here often when she lived in town. In those days, there had been time for her to sew clothes for Ialu and Jesse and to embroider little designs on things like the curtains. After sharing her aches and pains, Yuji suddenly asked, “But what can I do for you today? What do you need?” “I’d like to buy some gold thread. Do you have any from Chikala?” “Chikala! You’re really splurging, aren’t you! Yes, I’ve got some. Just wait a moment.” Gold thread was expensive, so she probably kept it under lock and key, Elin thought. Watching the woman disappear into the back of the shop, Jesse whispered, “Chikala?” “That’s a town in Aluhan territory. It’s famous for making gold foil. Thread made with gold foil from Chikala is really high quality.” “Oh! Now I remember! I heard that name a long time ago, when father was talking to some huge guy.” Elin looked at him in surprise. “A big man? You mean Jinji? Do you really remember that? You were only about six or seven!” Ialu had received an order for an expensive cabinet. He had asked Jinji, a lacquer craftsman, to do the decorative inlay. Jinji was a good man, and he and Ialu had hit it off. He had often come to their house to work on the cabinet and had shared stories of his trade, including gold foil, over meals together. But that was a long time ago. Jesse had been small enough to fit snuggly between Ialu’s knees when he sat cross-legged. Jesse stuck his nose in the air and said, “Pretty good memory, huh? I just might be a genius, you know.” Elin sighed. “Honestly, Jesse!” At that moment, Yuji returned bearing a white box. “Here it is. Gold thread from Chikala. It’s really wonderful stuff, and long-lasting, too. But it’s expensive.” She held it to the sun, and the light slid along the glossy surface. “See? Lovely, isn’t it?” “Yes. Can I have two?” Yuji’s eyebrows shot up. “Two!” Elin smiled, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s extravagant, I know, but I hardly ever make it into town.” “You need it for embroidery?” “Yes. For Jesse’s belt. I’ll need to embroider a new leaf on it every year.” She placed a hand on her son’s shoulder and said with a laugh, “If I keep some around, I won’t forget to do it next year, or the year after.” Jesse nodded. “Good idea,” he said sagely. “Why don’t you leave some hanging from the drawer, too? And while you’re at it, paste a sign on the drawer saying ‘For Jesse’ in big letters. Then you’ll remember for sure.” Elin gave him a playful slap on the head. When they stepped outside, a breeze caressed their cheeks. Although spring was still young, it was a fine day. The rustling leaves on the trees lining both sides of the main street made the sunlight dance, and the sky above was a hazy blue. Looking up, Jesse said, “It’s strange, isn’t it? The color of the sky looks different in spring than it does in summer or fall, even though it’s the same sky.” “You’re right,” Elin said, looking at his face as he squinted into the brightness. His resemblance to Ialu was startling. As they strolled through the soft sunshine, she wondered when he had begun to look so grown up. 6 SEIMIYA’S VISIT On a clear spring day when sasha petals drifted on the breeze, the Yojeh came to Kazalumu. Unlike when her grandmother Halumiya had come, everything about Seimiya’s visit was kept secret. She had sent a letter announcing that she wished to be trained in the Handler’s Art now that her youngest daughter was five, and Elin had been frantically preparing ever since. Five years had passed since the Yojeh had agreed to train with Elin. During that time, a building had been erected behind the school where she could stay for extended periods when she was ready to start. Now that the time had finally come, Elin and Esalu had to meet with many different people to make sure her stay was as comfortable as possible and that she came to no harm. By the time they finished, they were completely exhausted and felt not awe but instead immense relief when the Yojeh’s carriage and cavalry troop came into view. There was no welcoming ceremony. As the Yojeh didn’t want her presence to make the students nervous, she had asked the school to suspend classes. Summer vacation had been moved ahead of schedule, and all the students had been sent home the day before. Wide-eyed, Jesse leaned forward, craning his neck to see the horses prance through the gate, their heads adorned with beautiful plumes. Their cloth headdresses were stitched with gold thread that glinted and shimmered with each step. Led by these beautiful steeds, a brilliant white carriage rolled into the grounds and came to a stop before the school. Servants leaped forward to spread a carpet under the step. Several soldiers dismounted and moved with quick precision to stand guard around the carriage. Jesse grabbed his mother’s hand. “Are those Se Zan?” he whispered. His mother nodded. “Did Dad look like that when you first met him?” “Yes.” “Did you think he was good-looking?” His mother smiled as though embarrassed. Looking at the Se Zan, whose eyes scanned and assessed the people gathered there, she whispered, “He reminded me of a forest in midwinter.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jesse said. But his mother just smiled without answering. Even before Jesse had asked her that question, the sight of the Se Zan had taken Elin back to a day long ago. Although Ialu had been just one of several Se Zan, he had made a deep impression on her from the very first day. People’s hearts are strange, she thought. They hadn’t even spoken to each other, so why had his image remained so firmly imprinted on her mind? The sound of the carriage door pulled her back to the present. A servant reached up to steady Seimiya as she slowly alighted from the carriage. The sunlight caught in her hair and glinted off the gold thread in her robe. Leaving Jesse’s side, Elin walked forward with Esalu and dropped to one knee before her. “Please raise your heads,” Seimiya said. Her tone was gentle, but Elin sensed a ring of excitement in it. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked far healthier than when they had last met. “I finally made it! What a beautiful place Kazalumu is.” Gazing around at the wide green pasture carpeted with tiny flowers, she took a deep breath. “As we drew near, I saw little birds diving from the sky, almost as if they were somersaulting. I suppose their nests must be in the grass.” Elin smiled. “I believe what you saw were topi, a type of skylark. They do make their nests in the grass, but those nests are not located in the spot where they dive to the ground.” “No? Why is that?” “They land a little distance away so that their nest won’t be discovered by predators. They walk back to it once they land.” Seimiya’s face clouded for a moment. “So they flew like that to protect their nest? And I thought they were flying just for the joy of it.” She shifted her eyes to Elin. “You’ve spent your life studying the ways of living creatures like the topi. For the next month, please teach me well.” Elin bowed and said quietly, “It will be my pleasure, Your Majesty.” Morning mist drifted across the field where Elin stood with the Yojeh. For some time now, Jesse had been crouched behind a tree watching them. He had been doing so every day, observing everything his mother did since she had begun teaching the Yojeh. The Se Zan were scattered through the forest, beyond the reach of his ears and invisible to his eyes. In the beginning, they would appear out of nowhere and glower at him, as if to say, “We know you’re here.” Now, however, they let him be. He wasn’t interfering in any way so they had probably assumed he just wanted to be near his mother. But that wasn’t why he had come. Or at least, it wasn’t the only reason. He was driven here by his longing to learn the Handler’s Art. The Se Zan probably thought he couldn’t hear what his mother and the Yojeh were saying from this distance, but in fact, he could hear quite a bit. He’d been watching his mother for so many years that he knew how voices carried. Obstacles could block sound just like they blocked objects, and voices wouldn’t reach him when people spoke with their backs turned either. But when he stayed downwind like this, the wind carried sounds and voices to him with surprising clarity. Besides, people said a lot with their eyes and body movements, not just with their voices. The Royal Beasts were the same. Having watched his mother interact with them since he was a child, he knew instinctively how she and the Beasts communicated. So even when he couldn’t hear their voices, he could guess pretty accurately what his mother was saying. He could also tell from her explanations to the Yojeh whether he’d guessed right. This whole detective process was so exciting that he couldn’t stop himself from coming to watch. His mother had started with the habits and character of Royal Beasts, teaching the Yojeh step by step. Only recently had she begun showing her how Leelan and the others responded to the harp. The Yojeh plucked notes on it eagerly, but although Leelan and Eku listened intently, they didn’t respond the way they did when Elin played the same notes. The Yojeh seemed discouraged. “Perhaps I have no talent,” she said with a sigh. “There is no hurry, Your Majesty,” Elin said. “They’re still trying to decide what kind of person you are. Once you have established a bond with them, they will respond. I promise you.” As he listened to his mother encourage her, Jesse nodded to himself. The Royal Beasts observed people carefully. They would never obey someone they didn’t trust. Although they could be controlled by the Silent Whistle, they would never open their hearts to the person who used it. Someone strong might force them to do their bidding, but they would never truly submit. In contrast, once they opened their hearts to someone, they would respond with great attention. That was one of the things Jesse loved about them. The Royal Beasts obeyed his mother without hesitation. He knew they would obey her even if she didn’t use the harp. Alu was the same. She understood what Jesse said. He had never used the harp like his mother, but when he called Alu to come to him, she would, showing him that she understood. Leelan, however, almost never did what he asked. Though she would let him cuddle up to her and watched over him like a mother over her child, she never responded the way Alu did when he asked her to do something. Instead, she would give him the same tolerant look she gave her own children. Leelan, Eku, and the other adults obeyed his mother first, and then Miss Esalu. Although it had taken them a long time to accept the headmistress, now when she played the harp, they would do what she asked. But they didn’t respond to her words, even when she spoke to them. They had sharp ears and could pick out his mother’s voice from far away. To them, she was more important than anyone else. Jesse couldn’t help feeling that they were all one big family. His mother was the parent, and the Royal Beasts were her children. And he was probably considered the youngest of the lot. Jesse remembered how his mother’s face had fallen the day he’d told her he wanted to become a Beast Handler. Now he could understand why. To talk about “handling” the Royal Beasts as if they were tools was disgusting. He had often heard the soldiers and the custodians at Kazalumu speaking of his mother with awe as they called her a Beast Handler, so it had never occurred to him that it was bad. Now, however, he felt a flash of irritation every time he heard someone call his mother that. The Royal Beasts were noble beings. In fact, maybe all creatures were. Maybe there weren’t any that people had the right to use as tools. He had never forgotten what his mother had told him about the Toda when she was helping him with his studies. They could talk to one another, she’d said, with voices that sounded like finger whistles. And when one of their fellow Toda died, all the others would mourn with a high-pitched keening. After that, even the Toda, which he had seen as ferocious beasts, seemed different, and he kept pestering his mother with questions about them. Whenever she spoke of them, however, she looked troubled. She probably didn’t want to use even the Toda as weapons of war, although it was the Toda troops that protected the country from invasion. Humans turned all beasts into tools. Horses and oxen were made to work, other animals were raised to be eaten, and the Toda were trained as weapons. And now his mother was training the Royal Beasts to fight. He knew it couldn’t be helped, yet that knowledge warred with the feeling that it wasn’t right. A jumble of thoughts and feelings simmered inside him. Not knowing what to do with them, he let them circle around his mind while he watched his mother. What was the Yojeh thinking, he wondered. She was beautiful yet somehow fragile. There always seemed to be a deep sorrow in her face. Although he knew she was the one who was forcing his mother to train the Royal Beasts, he couldn’t help liking her. She looked so sincere as she gazed at the Beasts. I bet she loves their nobility just like me. I wonder when they’ll answer her harp. He felt sorry for the Yojeh. She tried so hard to talk to them, but they never responded. For the last few days, he had found himself hoping they would show even a little warmth toward her. When he watched his mother and the Yojeh train, time always flew by, but today, something was different. Although they usually came to the field when the sun was already high in the sky, this morning, they’d come while the mist still clung to the meadow. His mother had been up all night; she’d come home late and then left before dawn. Thinking it must have something to do with Alu, Jesse had waited until she’d gone to get the Yojeh before he climbed up to Alu’s new pasture ahead of them. Dawn had only just broken, but Alu was already outside the stable. Perhaps she had spent the whole night outdoors. Beyond the mauve mountain ridges, the sky was beginning to glow faintly. Suddenly, the sun burst above the rim, its light falling on Alu, who until then had just been a vague shadow in the field. Jesse caught his breath. Her chest was flushed deep pink. Raising her wings slightly, she stretched out her neck and sniffed the air. Facing her was the young male Ukalu. He was also sniffing the air with his wings slightly raised. Alu … Although he didn’t know what was happening, Jesse could feel the tension between the two Beasts like a tightly drawn string. Standing far apart, they stretched toward each other and inhaled the scent that rode the wind. Jesse had known Alu and Ukalu since he was a baby, yet they seemed like totally new creatures. His mother and the Yojeh were approaching. They stopped near the tree behind which Jesse was hiding and stared at the two Beasts. When the gently rolling mist had vanished, and the flowers in the meadow shone gaily in the morning light, Jesse’s mother pointed to Alu. Jesse turned to look. The color of Alu’s chest began to deepen, turning a bright red as though fresh blood had been spurted across it. At that moment, Ukalu raised his head toward the heavens and let out a long trilling sound. Lululululu. Alu raised her head and sang a high-pitched note in response. Lilililili. The two beasts spread their giant wings and soared upward at almost the same moment. High in the heavens they came together, blocking out the newly risen sun, and twined their necks as though they never wanted to let go. They collided and flew apart, then collided again, their bodies shuddering as Ukalu mounted Alu’s back. Dazed, Jesse stared at the sky. 7 ALU MATES “They’re mating,” Seimiya whispered. She couldn’t keep the tremor from her voice. “Alu’s finally flown! Oh, how wonderful!” Turning to look at Elin, she was startled to see tears welling in her eyes as she gazed up at the Royal Beasts. “So this brings you joy, too, does it?” Seimiya asked. Elin nodded. At last, Alu had done it. She’d taken her mating flight, her first step toward adulthood and making her own family. Even if it brought them one step closer to an army of Royal Beasts, for now Elin was simply glad that Alu had come of age. When they were done, Alu and Ukalu drifted slowly to the ground. Ukalu sidled up to Alu where she stood languidly on the grass, and licked the fur on her chest while making soothing noises. “She finally broke free from her parents,” Elin murmured. Seeing the perplexed expression on Seimiya’s face, she explained, “Alu will turn seventeen this year. Royal Beasts in the wild take their mating flight and bear children by the time they are four. It has taken Alu many times that to reach maturity, most likely because she remained a cub in relation to Leelan and Eku. I think that she’s finally come of age because we took her away from them.” “Ah, I see,” Seimiya whispered. “So that’s why you wanted to expand the pasture area for the Royal Beasts. You wanted enough room to remove Leelan and Eku’s children from under their wing and give them a place where they could become independent.” Elin bowed her head. “Yes. I couldn’t explain my request in detail in a letter. Forgive me for not being clearer.” “There’s no need to apologize. That was a natural precaution. But to think that keeping parents in the same pasture as their children is what stops them from reproducing. Who would’ve guessed?” Elin nodded. “It’s still just a hypothesis, but I think there are two reasons proximity prevents them from maturing.” “Two?” “Yes. One is to avoid interbreeding. If Alu had come into heat when her father was ready to mate, Eku might have mated with his own daughter. To prevent that, I think cubs may have some mechanism that keeps them from maturing while they live with their parents.” Seimiya blinked, then blushed and looked a bit flustered. Catching sight of her expression, Elin said hastily, “Pardon me for speaking so bluntly.” Seimiya gave a crooked smile. “Please think nothing of it. And the second reason?” Elin looked at Alu. “To avoid conflict.” “Conflict?” “Yes. When cubs come of age, mate, and bear young, they need a fairly large territory to support their family. The pasture at Kazalumu is simply too small. When so many of them are forced to live in the same pasture, I think they choose to create one large family instead of killing one another. One pair becomes the parents of all the others.” Surprise rose in Seimiya’s eyes. “You’re saying they actually plan that out for themselves?” “Well, not plan, really. I think it just kind of happened that way. It’s not uncommon for living creatures to make such choices. Honeybees, which I got to know very well when I was young, are a good example. To survive in their cramped hive, they also form one big family with the queen bee at the top. Their lives are so completely organized and controlled that it’s chilling at times. The queen is almighty. If something happens to her, if she dies or disappears, all the bees in the hive start to shake as if they’ve lost the center that held them together. I’ve seen a swarm of bees get so upset that it wandered every which way, not knowing what to do. The bees behaved like little children suddenly separated from their parents. Bees in a hive are all females that can never become independent or bear children. They remain forever their mother’s daughters. There were times when I found that quite frightening.” Seimiya’s eyes narrowed as she listened. Her face paled, and her jaw tightened. Her eyes on Alu, Elin missed the change in her expression and continued speaking matter-of-factly. “If the only reason the Royal Beasts didn’t mate was to avoid inbreeding between father and daughter or mother and son, then there would be no reason for Ukalu and the others, who were introduced later from the wild, not to mature and mate. A system where the parents wield absolute authority over a host of obedient children ensures stability when many individual creatures are forced to live together.” When she finished speaking, the only sounds were the breeze caressing the grass and the cooing noises of the Royal Beasts. “You’re saying that in a system where parents wield absolute authority, their children can live together in peace and stability?” Seimiya whispered. Elin sighed. “In a restricted environment like that of bees in a hive, yes, I think so. But for Royal Beasts, such a system is abnormal. When Olamu, the Beast Hunter, saw Leelan and the others, he told me they could never live in the wild.” Sadness spread through Elin as she watched Alu and Ukalu groom each other affectionately. “I think he was right,” she went on. “By keeping the Royal Beasts in the sanctuary pasture, we’ve forced them to remain children. Even if they mate and bear young, they can never truly become independent adults. Because they’re still dependent on us for food. “The Beasts raised here have never learned the skills they need to hunt for their own food or to survive a fight with other Beasts. Outside the sanctuary, with no one to protect them, I doubt they could compete with wild Beasts who challenge their territory.” The sun had risen in the sky, and its rays glowed softly on the Royal Beasts’ fur. Seimiya stared at them silently for some time as if following a train of thought. Finally, she murmured, “I suppose for them, living here is happiness.” Elin turned to look at her. “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she began, then faltered. A faint smile played at the corners of Seimiya’s mouth. “If you disagree, please say so. There is no need for you to hesitate.” With a nod, Elin said, “I think ‘happiness’ is too broad a term.” Seimiya said nothing. “It encompasses so much,” Elin continued. “But for the same reason, it can conceal a lot. Lumping everything together under that word seems reassuring, but really only the Royal Beasts can judge what happiness is for them. I’m afraid I might use it to convince myself that my actions are right.” Seimiya sighed, and her mouth twitched. “You’re very hard on yourself, aren’t you?” she said. A strong light gleamed in her eyes. “Because of my position, however, I must decide what is the best system for everyone else and what will make them happy. I must keep an image of what the happiness of my country and my people looks like in my mind at all times. Because I am a parent who must lead many children.” Elin’s eyes wavered, and she looked at the Royal Beasts. “What is it this time?” Seimiya asked. “Tell me your thoughts. There’s no reason to stop now.” A sad smile touched Elin’s lips. “I was thinking that your ancestor, the first Yojeh, must have shared your point of view.” As the sun warmed the grasses, butterflies and beetles began to whir through the air. “When she crossed the Afon Noah and assumed rulership to bring an end to chaos and unite the land, the people here must have seemed like children who didn’t know what would bring them happiness.” Seimiya squinted into the sun, following the flight of a butterfly. In a low voice, Elin said, “Every time I look at the Royal Beasts and the Toda, I wonder why the first Yojeh decided not to explain so many things to her people; why she taught them that all they needed to do was to follow the rules. Why did she choose this way? Did the people who live here seem incapable of judging for themselves? Or had she learned from her own experience that people can’t understand something unless they’ve witnessed it with their own eyes?” Seimiya gave her a long look. “So even now, you’re worried about flying the Royal Beasts to battle,” she said. When Elin didn’t answer, Seimiya added, “I think you must be. Because you intend to fly them all by yourself without letting anyone else ride them.” “Your Majesty.” “There’s no need for you to tell me. Do you think I didn’t know how you feel? After spending these last few days learning the intricacies of the Handler’s Art, I understand all too well. These skills cannot be acquired overnight. And even if they could, it would take a very long time for the Royal Beasts to learn to trust someone else.” A bitter smile rose to Seimiya’s lips. “You know that, and that’s why you’re giving me only the knowledge of the art. The day is not far off when the Royal Beasts must be flown. But when that time comes, I won’t be able to fly them. Miss Esalu could probably do it, but I’m sure you intend to excuse her from battle due to her advanced age.” Her smile faded as she stared at Elin. “You plan to shoulder all responsibility for what may happen on the battlefield alone, don’t you?” The gentle breeze played with a strand of Elin’s hair. She shifted her eyes away and gazed at the wide field. “I told you that only the Royal Beasts themselves can judge what happiness is for them,” Elin whispered. “But if, as the Ahlyo warned me, a catastrophe occurs that destroys both beasts and men, it will most surely be a calamity for the Royal Beasts. If so, then, without a doubt, I am leading them to grief, not happiness.” Seimiya shook her head. “But by doing so, you are saving the people of this country.” Her eyes still on the field, Elin said, “Perhaps. But that has no meaning whatsoever to the Royal Beasts.” They remained silent for a while, staring at the two Beasts in the field. Finally Seimiya heaved a deep sigh. “Do you really think such a disaster will happen? To me, it sounds like a cautionary tale told by the Ahlyo to keep people from fighting.” Elin stared blankly at the Royal Beasts. “Tokujisui,” she murmured. “It’s the tokujisui that bothers me. The Royal Ancestor Jeh and all the Yojeh after her, as well as the ancestors of the lord of Amasulu who were invited to come and breed Toda, every single one of them used tokujisui to prevent both Royal Beasts and Toda from being bred by men. Why?” Seimiya’s brow furrowed. “So as not to increase their number. You told me that yourself.” “Yes. But even if we don’t breed them, it’s still possible to multiply Toda by taking their eggs, and Royal Beasts by taking their young. It’s slower of course, but even so, we could increase their number. Our ancestors must have known that. If so, then why?” Disgust twisted Elin’s features. “Tokujisui perverts nature. It warps creatures’ growth so that Royal Beasts remain eternal children, never mating, wasting their lives in idleness. And the Kiba die with their unborn eggs inside them. Why would our ancestors have gone to such lengths to control their reproduction?” She clenched her teeth, trying to keep her emotions in check, but the fury that swelled inside her was not easily quelled. “My mother chose martyrdom,” she said, forcing the words through her teeth. “She chose death by execution rather than break her vow to protect their secret. I, however, have chosen not to use tokujisui. I simply cannot bring myself to use something that I know corrupts living things. As such, it’s only right that I should bear responsibility for the outcome of my decision.” Elin paused and took a shaky breath. “But I have my doubts, too. Because I’m not the only one who will be affected by the outcome. If the disaster feared by Jeh should occur, the soldiers in the battlefield, along with the Toda and the Royal Beasts, will all perish.” A bitter smile crossed Seimiya’s face. “You need not trouble yourself about that. It is I, not you, who will be held responsible.” Elin shook her head. “Who is responsible is not the point. For those killed, that makes no difference at all.” At these words, a fierce light kindled in Seimiya’s eyes. “Regardless, it is my role as the ruler of this land to order my men to lay down their lives for the safety of our people. The best I can do is to avoid making them die needlessly.” Clouds drifted across the sky, casting a fleeting shadow across her face until the light touched her pale cheeks again. For a moment, Elin thought she caught a glimpse of the Yojeh’s ancestor in that face, an image of the woman who had determined, at her discretion alone, the lives of men and beasts and the fate of this country; the woman who had sought only to bring peace and security to her people. Although Seimiya was standing right beside her, to Elin she suddenly seemed very far away. “Just as you have chosen a different path from your mother’s,” Seimiya said, her voice almost a whisper, “I, too, have sought to break the seals fixed by my ancestors. Because I believed that was the best way to protect the lives of our soldiers. But…” She grimaced. “If the catastrophe that you fear should come to pass, I will be remembered for generations to come as the Yojeh who led her kingdom down the wrong path.” There was a tremor in her voice. The image of Jeh that Elin had seen in Seimiya’s eyes vanished, and a look of anguish suffused her white face. 8 ELIN’S DIARY Jesse had no memory of how he made it home. The guard who opened the door for him spoke, and he heard himself answering as though from the other side of a thick fog. Passing through the guardhouse and into his own quarters, Jesse closed the door behind him. As he stood by the hearth in the empty room, words kept echoing inside his head: “You plan to shoulder all responsibility for what may happen on the battlefield alone, don’t you?” The Yojeh’s words. His mother’s expression as she answered. Everything he had heard and seen from behind the tree spun around inside his head, crushing him. There was a lot they had said that he hadn’t understood, but as he listened, fear had boiled up like a black cloud in his chest and finally taken shape. He turned his vacant eyes to the spot where his mother always sat. She plans to die … For a long time now, something had been bothering him. He was sure that his mother hated having to train Leelan and the others for war. Royal Beasts were so powerful, he doubted anyone could ever beat them. But the thought of the Beasts dropping from the sky and ripping people to shreds made him wonder how his mother could ever have agreed to do it. “They’ll be killing our enemies. What’s wrong with that?” his friends had told him. But they’d never seen a Royal Beast bare its fangs. They had no idea how ferocious, how absolutely terrifying they could be. Even now, he shook violently at the memory of Leelan’s snarling face, of her jaws pulverizing the broom. And the thought of what would have happened if it had been a person instead made his stomach churn. Besides, no matter how powerful the Royal Beasts might be, he couldn’t rule out the possibility that they could be destroyed if enemy soldiers and Toda managed to surround them. By training the Beasts, his mother might be leading them to their deaths. At times she looked at the Royal Beasts with such anguish in her face that Jesse was sure she hated what she was doing. Yet she kept on going. And she never showed her pain to others. This is what had been bothering him. With the Yojeh’s words, his vague fear had taken shape and pierced his breast. So that’s it. She plans to die to make up for the fate she’s forcing on Leelan and the others. But why? Is that really the only way? Questions tumbled and whirled inside him. Sinking to the floor, he wrapped his arms around his knees. Loneliness stabbed him. If war broke out, his mother and father would leave him here all alone. Tears welled in his eyes, and he buried his face in his knees. Inhaling the scent of his skin, he wept. For so long now, he had kept a lid on the loneliness that lurked inside. The days when his family had lived together in town seemed like a dream. His father leaning over a chest of drawers he was working on, the scent of wood shavings, the smells of food cooking in the neighbors’ houses, the shouts and laughter of his friends, his mother chopping vegetables in a corner of the kitchen—he missed it all so much that he could barely stand it. He had thought that his father would come home when he was finished fighting the Lahza, and they could have their old life back again. But maybe they never would. His knees were wet with tears. His father and mother were going to go far away and leave him behind. In his mind, he saw their backs receding into the distance. He clenched his teeth. He was mad at them both. They always did this—left him without telling him what he needed to know, without any thought for how he felt! He gulped for air and brushed his tears away. He wanted to break something. Plates, cups, anything. He wanted to hurl them at the wall and hear them shatter. But if he did, the guards would come running to see what had happened. He couldn’t stand the thought of trying to explain or of listening to them lecture. With gloomy eyes, he surveyed the empty room. To his surprise, the door to his mother’s room was slightly ajar. She always kept it tightly closed, but today, there was a space as wide as his fist. She must have left it open when she went out at dawn so as not to wake him. He stared absently through the crack. When they lived in town, she had often stayed up writing by the hearth. He would climb onto her back and peer over her shoulder. She would laugh and say, “You’re too heavy. Off you get.” “What’re you doing?” he would ask. “Writing about what happened today,” she would say. She had taught him how to read and write the strange letters she used. But since they had moved here, she no longer wrote by the hearth. Instead, she stayed in her room, studying and writing. When he asked what she was doing, she only smiled and answered vaguely. Jesse stood up. Walking around the hearth, he put his hand on his mother’s door. His pulse beat faster. A voice inside told him that he shouldn’t, but he pressed his lips together and opened the door wide. The afternoon sunshine fell upon the small desk and bookshelf. Books jammed the shelves, and more were piled on the floor. Several books bound only with thread lay on the desk. Jesse walked stealthily to the desk, although he knew it would be some time before his mother returned. Suppressing his guilt, he began flipping through the pages. The top five books recorded the lives and ecology of Toda and Royal Beasts. When he opened the one beneath these, letters written backward from the way he had been taught at school leaped into his eyes. Mirror script. The one his mother had taught him when he was small. He paused, startled. As a child, he had thought it was a game, but now a completely different thought occurred to him. I see. Mother uses this so that no one else can read what she writes. After this realization, he couldn’t stop himself. He ran back to the living room and grabbed a hand mirror from the top of the dresser. Angling the mirror so the words were reflected on the glass, he began to read. The ringing of the bell brought him back to the present with a jerk. Dusk already filled the room. He had been so engrossed in reading, devouring one diary after another, that he seemed to have missed both the lunch and afternoon breaks. Hurriedly, he gathered the books he’d left scattered about and returned them to their place on the table. Leaving the door open a crack, same as he had found it, he went back to the living room. It was sunk in darkness. As he knelt by the hearth and stirred the embers with a poker, he thought over what he had just read, feeling as though he was returning from a long journey. The loneliness and anger of the morning had sunk deep inside him. In its place, a leaden feeling weighed down his chest. His mother had written about her life, sharing things he had never known about her past: about her mother and her mother’s people; about how she, and now her family, were connected to the Yojeh; about the Royal Beasts and the Toda. His mind was reeling with the knowledge of how she had lost her mother when she was only ten and how she had learned to communicate with Leelan. Someone had once told him that his mother had Ahlyo blood. He had never thought about what that meant, but now the reality of it thudded in his chest, making him shudder. Just like the Yojeh, the blood of those who crossed the Afon Noah long ago ran in his veins, too. His green-eyed ancestors had been the first to turn Toda into weapons of war, while the Yojeh’s ancestors were not gods but a people who had raised Royal Beasts in the Afon Noah. Both had crossed those mountains to reach Lyoza. Even now, remnants of the Toga mi Lyo, who called themselves the Kalenta Loh, lived in a valley somewhere in the Afon Noah. His mother had written that she wanted to seek them out. What happened long ago? How did the golden-eyed Jeh and the green-eyed Toga mi Lyo, who should have been enemies, become friends and end up helping each other? Why was it wrong to pit Royal Beasts against the Toda? His mother had hoped that the Kalenta Loh could help her find the answers to such questions. When Jesse read why she had been forced to abandon her search for that valley, the magnitude of what surrounded his whole family hit him full force. To the very last page, which had ended with yesterday’s entry, Jesse had felt as if he were walking with his mother. Distant memories had come alive. How long ago was it? They had still been living in town. He remembered the buzzing of cicadas, so it must have been summer. His father and mother had taken him on a long journey, deep into the mountains. Sweating with the effort, they had climbed a steep mountain trail until suddenly they came upon a meadow that spread as far as he could see. It was filled with a profusion of flowers that seemed to brighten everything. Their fragrance was so intoxicating, he had run laughing and shouting through the field and then thrown himself on top of the blooms. His mother had lain down beside him. Holding hands, they had gazed up at the blue summer sky. Tears fell from his mother’s eyes, but she had just let them slip quietly down her cheeks as she looked at a cloud drifting lazily. When he had started to ask what was wrong, his father had swept him up in his arms and started tickling him. He giggled and squirmed, and his mother had sat up and begun tickling him as well. He had laughed so hard tears had run down his face. Having read his mother’s diary, he could now guess why she had cried. She had written about a man named Joeun who had nursed her back to life and raised her as his own child. Every summer, he had taken her to a small hut in that field of flowers. She grieved that he had died before she could repay his kindness. She had wanted to show him that she’d grown up and built a happy life. Maybe she’d been talking to Joeun as she lay in the grass gazing at the sky. Maybe she had brought her family there to show him. Now that Jesse knew the life his mother had lived, memory fragments from his childhood took on new meaning. Maybe she’s writing it for me, he thought suddenly. So that if she vanished from his life, he would understand. If so, then what he had guessed must be true. She was planning to die. He felt as if his mother’s hand had gently touched his hair. The embers in the fire blurred, and Jesse closed his eyes tight. 9 FLIGHT OF THE OCHIWA It began drizzling at dawn on the day the Yojeh was to leave Kazalumu. The rain signaled the end of spring. Once it had passed, the sky would turn to the color of summer. The Yojeh was scheduled to leave before noon, and the carriage was already standing by, but she seemed reluctant to go. She went to the stable, bidding each of the Royal Beasts goodbye. She left Leelan for last. Looking up at the Beast dozing in the dusky shadows, she breathed a soft sigh. “In the end, you didn’t respond to my voice, did you?” Leelan must have heard, because her ears twitched, but her eyes remained shut. Seimiya turned to Elin, who was waiting behind her. “Will the day ever come when Leelan responds to me?” Elin smiled and nodded. “Yes, most certainly.” Seimiya’s lips twitched. “You speak with such confidence. Do you have some reason to think so?” “Yes, I do. Perhaps you didn’t notice, but Leelan’s behavior has changed greatly since you first arrived, Your Majesty.” Seimiya blinked and looked at the Royal Beasts. They were all napping, perhaps made drowsy by the pattering of the rain. As she watched them, a slow smile spread across her face. “You’re right,” she said. “They have changed. When I first came, they glared at me and growled.” Every time she had approached the Royal Beasts alone, they had raised their wings and rumbled, staring down at her with a cold gleam in their eyes. Seimiya wondered when they had stopped. The change must have been gradual because she couldn’t remember when they had ceased threatening her. Clearly, however, they no longer considered her a danger because here they were, sleeping peacefully in front of her. A warm feeling spread through her chest. After standing for some time gazing up at the Beasts, Seimiya turned to Elin. “They’re amazing creatures, aren’t they? Even when they’re sleeping like this, I can feel their power.” “Yes.” A light shone in Seimiya’s eyes. “It must be a wonderful feeling to control the Royal Beasts so freely.” Robbed of speech by this unexpected remark, Elin could only stare at her for a moment. “To be honest,” she finally said, turning her eyes to Leelan, “it is. Frighteningly so. Especially when I’m speeding through the sky on Leelan’s back and the Royal Beasts suddenly change course in response to my harp. It always gives me goosebumps.” She turned her eyes back to Seimiya and said quietly, “These magnificent creatures move as I will them, and that’s incredibly exhilarating.” She took a deep breath and carried on. “But the next moment I am always overcome with fear. Many times the terror twisting inside me has caused me to shake so badly that I can’t play my harp until it passes.” Seimiya’s brows rose. “But why?” “Yes, I wonder. Why?” Elin murmured. “Perhaps because I feel I’m doing something that’s beyond my capacity. Lady Seimiya, have you ever skied?” Seimiya shook her head. “What about riding?” “Yes, I love riding.” “Then I think you can understand what I mean. Have you ever found that when you set your horse at a gallop, it feels wonderful for a time, then suddenly you’re afraid? You feel the horse picking up speed to the point where you can no longer control it, and you’re frightened of what will happen if it doesn’t stop. Have you ever felt that kind of fear?” Seimiya nodded emphatically. “Yes, I have.” A smile touched her eyes. “When I was a child, there was a very gentle horse that did whatever I asked. That made me so confident, I decided to surprise the guards who were riding with me and urged it to a gallop. It tried so hard to please me, that it took off at tremendous speed. I was petrified. It took everything I had just to cling on.” She stopped abruptly and looked up at Leelan. “Yes, I see what you mean.” She paused for a long moment. The sound of the rain on the roof and the gentle breathing of the sleeping Beasts filled the stable. “I have been so afraid,” Seimiya finally whispered, her eyes still fixed on Leelan. “Ever since you came to me that night long ago and told me about my ancestor. Ever since I learned that I wasn’t a god but just an ordinary human being.” Her voice was almost inaudible, as if she were talking to herself. “It’s been so hard, trying to be something I’m not, trying to do something I can’t.” Slowly she turned her face to Elin. “But when I met you again and you told me more about Jeh, it suddenly hit me. She also knew she was just an ordinary human being, yet she managed to achieve so much.” Elin said nothing. “While I was listening to you,” Seimiya continued, “I was thinking that she must have been far stronger than me. But then remember? You told me a cornered mouse is neither strong nor weak.” “Did I?” Elin murmured. Seimiya gave a crooked smile. “Indeed, you did. I remember it clearly.” Her gaze was calm as she looked at Leelan. “I may be weak, but I will no longer use my lack of capacity as an excuse to run away. When the time comes, I will send you and the Royal Beasts to subdue our enemies. Still…” Her face twisted, and she turned to look at Elin. “I can’t help but be torn by regret. If only the knowledge of the past had been passed down to me, if only I knew what happened when the Royal Beasts were sent to battle! Then I wouldn’t suffer such fear and anxiety about what I’m doing!” Her shoulders trembled. Elin took a step toward her and placed a hand gently on hers. Seimiya’s eyes widened, unused to such a familiar gesture, but her fingers pressed against Elin’s in response. “Many times,” Elin whispered hoarsely, “I’ve dreamed that I was an ochiwa flying through the sky to the Valley of the Kalenta Loh, the ones who remain. Each time, I find the green-eyed ones and the golden-eyed ones living together and beg them to tell me what will really happen if I fly the Royal Beasts to war.” Seimiya blinked. “An ochiwa? Why an ochiwa?” Elin brushed tears from her eyes with her fingers. “Do you remember me telling you that I read an ancient diary when I was staying in the manor of Yoha— I mean the lord of Amasulu?” “Yes.” “An ochiwa is mentioned at the beginning of that diary.” The words were seared into Elin’s memory, and she recited them softly. “While spring is young and snow remains, then comes the ochiwa.” The diary said this exchange of messages was begun ‘to cheer the spirits of the young maiden who had once again donned that heavy mantle, her heart troubled by the fate of a people in the lowlands far away.’ Our Royal Ancestor Jeh and the Kalenta Loh sent messages to each other by ochiwa.” As Elin spoke, Seimiya frowned suddenly. “What is it?” Elin asked. Seimiya shook her head. “I had no idea. So that’s how the Flight of the Ochiwa started.” “What?” Seimiya gazed at Elin. “We still do that. We still send the ochiwa. At the hour of dawn as the sun breaks over the horizon on the first day of the year, the Yojeh releases an ochiwa and sends it off toward the Afon Noah. We’ve continued this ritual every year without fail.” Elin stared at her openmouthed. “We place a message of felicitation in a band on its leg and release it. And it always comes back. I was taught that by sending a greeting to our home in the Afon Noah, we receive the blessings of the gods in return and bring happiness to the world. But I never knew that was how it started.” Her voice strained, Elin asked, “Do you receive a message in return?” Seimiya shook her head. “No, nothing. The bird comes back with our message still strapped to its leg. But…” Her face clouded, and Elin urged her on with her eyes. With a bashful smile, Seimiya said, “When we open the letter, it smells like flowers. I always thought that it was the fragrance of the gods.” The perfume of flowers! Tiny lights burst and scattered across Elin’s mind. “What?” Seimiya asked. “It just might be,” Elin said breathlessly, “that the ochiwa still flies to the Valley of the Kalenta Loh.” Seimiya’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” “My mother wrote in her diary that the valley where the Kalenta Loh live is filled with the fragrance of flowers.” The two stared at each other. Then Seimiya laughed. “But—could that really be possible?” Elin gave a lopsided smile. “I wonder. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence. But still…” Seimiya’s face sobered. “You’re right. It’s worth trying, even if it is a chance in a million.” The Yojeh returned to the palace, promising to come again when she could. Upon her return, she attached the letter she had written with Elin to an ochiwa and sent it off toward the Afon Noah. But it returned with the same message perfumed with the faint scent of flowers. It must have flown down to rest in a meadow on its way home, Seimiya decided. That, she thought, was the nature of an answer from the gods.