FIVE TURN OF FATE 1 THE VOICE OF THE HARP Propelled by the inspiration from her dream, Elin burst from the stable and raced through the dark forest to the dormitory. The moon had already set, and only the stars glimmered through the thin clouds. There was not a light to be seen in the dormitory. The black shape of the building huddled against the darkness. Everyone must be asleep by now, she thought. She tried the back door, but it was locked and would not budge. She paused for a moment, biting her lip. She couldn’t bang on the door to wake the dorm mother at this time of night. But when she thought of Leelan’s condition, she could not bear to wait until morning. With only the starlight to guide her, she made her way to the west side of the building. The room she shared with Yuyan was on the second floor, but the window was dark. Yuyan, too, must be asleep. A windbreak had been planted near the building, and a branch from one of the trees almost reached her window. Yuyan had once joked that when she and Elin became young women, boys might climb it to court them. Elin rubbed her hands together. She was a good climber. Although there were no branches to give her a foothold on the lower trunk, she had often climbed trees like this with the boys in her village. She slipped her feet out of her shoes and undid her sash. After tying the hem of her robe at her waist to keep it from flapping open, she wrapped one end of the sash around her right hand, put it behind the trunk and grasped the other end with her left hand. Gripping both ends firmly, she leaned back and hopped onto the trunk. Then she shimmied up the tree like an inchworm, slipping the sash up the trunk and then following with her feet, over and over again. Soon she had reached the thick branch that stretched toward her window. Holding on to the trunk with her left hand, she whirled her right hand in the air to wind the sash around it and then used both hands to pull herself up onto the branch and straddle it. Looking along it, she saw that it was too thin at the end to bear her weight for very long. She would need to wake Yuyan up first and get her to open the window before she went that far. She broke off a long, thin branch and, holding it at arm’s length, tapped it against the window. The sound was muffled by the leaves at the tip, but after tapping three or four times, she saw a shadow move inside. “Who’s there?” It was Yuyan. Just as Elin opened her mouth to answer, however, her friend spoke again. “Kashugan? Is that you?” Elin almost dropped the stick she was holding. “You shouldn’t be here…” Yuyan whispered hoarsely. “I mean I’m glad you like me, but we’re still at school, you know.” Elin’s mouth hung open as she stared at Yuyan’s shadow. Suddenly, a fit of giggles seized her. She clapped a hand over her mouth and shook so hard that she almost lost her balance. Roughly reminded of where she was, she froze, then hastily clutched the branch. This was no time to laugh. If she stayed here too long, the branch might break. She slid gingerly along it and said in a hushed voice, “Yuyan, sorry. It’s me, Elin. Open the window.” Yuyan stopped pleading with Kashugan abruptly and wrenched the window open. “Elin?” “Shhh!” Elin quickly hushed her. “Sorry I woke you up. Move. I’m going to jump.” After making sure that Yuyan was out of the way, Elin crouched like a frog on the branch, then leapt toward the window and, grabbing the ledge, propelled herself inside. Her feet hit the floor with a loud thud. The two girls remained motionless, listening intently to see if anyone on the floor below had woken up. Fortunately, there was no sound. “Elin! What’s going on?” Yuyan whispered. “I’m sorry. There’s something I need right now, but the back door was locked.” Yuyan let out a deep breath. Stroking her chin and trying to act casual, she said, “So, um, you didn’t hear me say anything, did you?” “No, nothing at all … Not even the name Kashugan.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Elin doubled over, clutching her stomach and quivering with suppressed laughter. Yuyan gave her a playful kick. “Hey! How dare you laugh at me?” She pummeled Elin’s back with her fists, then hugged her as the two of them rolled on the floor, breathless with laughter. Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and the door slid open with a snap. “Just what do you think you’re doing? It’s the middle of the night!” Kalisa, the dorm mother, stood in the doorway. She must have jumped out of bed, because she was still in her nightdress. The girls hastily knelt on the floor. “Sorry!” When she saw Elin, Kalisa’s eyebrows flew up. “Elin? I thought you were staying in the stable. I’m sure I locked the doors. How did you get in?” Elin cringed. “I’m very sorry … There was something I really needed … I didn’t want to disturb you, so I climbed in the window.” “The window? But this is the second floor!” She must have noticed the branch outside the window then, because she suddenly lost her voice. After a moment, she said, “You didn’t … Well … In all my twenty years as a dorm mother, you’re the first girl who has ever snuck in by climbing that tree.” She gave Elin a stern look. “How could you be so reckless? I thought you were a good girl, but I guess I was wrong. I’ll let you off this time, but don’t you ever try that again! Do you hear me? Think what could have happened if that branch had broken.” “I promise. I won’t do it again.” Kalisa sighed and left the room, shaking her head. Alone again, Elin and Yuyan looked at each other. Their fit of hysterical giggles had passed, leaving in its wake a gentle tickle of amusement in their bellies. “So what did you come back for?” Yuyan’s question reminded Elin of why she was here. She jumped to her feet and opened the door to her closet. Behind her, she heard the sound of two stones being struck together to make a spark, and within moments, Yuyan had lit a lamp. Elin pulled out the bag containing her small harp. Peering over her shoulder, Yuyan said, “What’s that? Oh! A harp!” Elin stroked it softly. Of the three harps she had once made with such passion, this was her favorite. When she had lived with Joeun, she had played it often in her spare time, but for the last two months she had not even touched it. Since coming to the school, all her energy had been spent on getting used to her new life. “I made this myself,” she murmured as she stroked it. “You made it? That’s amazing. I never knew you could make a harp.” “It’s nothing compared to what a craftsman could do.” She began plucking a few phrases of a favorite tune and noticed that the strings had loosened since she had last played it. It sounded slightly different from the pitch of the Royal Beasts in the wild. “That’s lovely,” Yuyan said with a blissful smile, but Elin shook her head. “No, this won’t do.” She frowned as she plucked the strings one by one. While the tone was similar to the sounds the Royal Beasts had made, it was not quite right. To Leelan, it might not sound like the same language. When she shared this thought with Yuyan, she looked puzzled. “But why wouldn’t it work?” she asked. “It might be a little different, but wouldn’t it still be recognizable? I mean, look at us. You and I don’t have the same accent, but we still understand each other.” “I know. But somehow I don’t think it’s going to work. We can recognize words as words because we can tell the difference between sounds like ‘eh’ and ‘lee.’ Human languages have an incredible number of very distinct sounds. But the Beasts only seem to have a few. The differences are in pitch and length, and the echo after the note, as well as the order in which those sounds are made. But the differences are so slight that, at first, the notes sound the same. If the Beasts can pick up meaning from such tiny differences as these, then even the smallest deviation might make a sound meaningless.” Yuyan grunted. “Well, I guess the only way to find out is to try it and see,” she said. Elin nodded. There was no guarantee that she could even tune her harp close enough to those notes. It would be a long process, and there was no time to waste on complaining about it. She would just have to try. She stood up. Yuyan looked startled. “You’re not going back there now, are you?” “Yes, I am.” Yuyan frowned. “Elin, you just can’t let something go once you get started, can you? But you’re not indestructible, you know. Remember to take care of yourself, will you?” Elin smiled. “Thanks, Yuyan.” Leelan did not budge, even when Elin opened the stable door and walked inside. Her heart began to pound as she readied her harp and faced that black shadow. Taking a deep breath, she plucked the string that was closest to the sound she remembered, a low middle tone. The note reverberated in the silence. Lon … The Beast cub moved faintly, as if the sound had disturbed its sleep, but it did not open its eyes or show any interest. Elin tried a few more times, but the cub only shifted slightly, as if annoyed, without opening its eyes. Elin’s shoulders slumped, and she exhaled slowly. She had expected a more dramatic response. While she knew the sound was not exactly the same as the mother Beast’s, she had expected Leelan to respond, just as a person in a foreign land might turn to look if she heard a word that resembled her own language. I guess I was wrong. She crouched down. The disappointment was worse because she had put so much effort into this. Still cradling the harp in one arm, she pulled the blanket around her and curled up inside. She had barely noticed the hard, cold floor before, but now it seemed to bite into her shoulders. She hugged the harp to her chest, as if to stem the despair that beat in her heart, and closed her eyes. Once Elin fell asleep, her dreams were disjointed and meaningless. When she woke, the morning light was shining into the stable. She was trembling with cold. I forgot to put the plank back on the wall. The draft must have chilled my neck and back. I’ll have to remember to put it back on tonight. She had slept with the harp in her arms, and it had left a mark imprinted on her chin. She stroked the spot thoughtfully and raised her eyes to look at Leelan. As usual, the cub sat motionless. The straw beneath it was filthy. If she couldn’t do anything else, she might as well clean its stall. It was unfortunate that she would have to use the Silent Whistle, but it would be worse to leave the stall like this. She sat up and hugged her knees. Still cold, she kept the blanket wrapped around her and touched the harp. Did the sound that the cub’s mother made come from its chest? If so, perhaps it was not a clear, ringing tone, but rather duller, resonating inside its body. She might be able to reproduce that sound if she loosened the string a little. She plucked the string absently. Lon … Leelan’s eyes popped open. Elin started and stared at the cub. Its blinking, golden eyes were fixed on her. Elin plucked the string once more. The cub was still staring at her. It did not react any further, but she had clearly gotten its attention. What?… Why? It had not responded at all last night. Why was it responding now? What was different? Yesterday it had been sleeping. Maybe it hadn’t heard her. Had it responded now because it was awake? Or … Elin looked at her hands. She was holding the harp inside the blanket. She felt the hairs rise on the nape of her neck. Maybe that’s why … Had the muffled sound from under the blanket been closer to how the note sounded in its mother’s body? Elin closed her eyes and plucked the string again. She listened intently. Yes, it’s close. It was much closer to the sound she remembered, but something still wasn’t quite right. Leelan seemed to feel the same way. Now that it had grown used to the sound, the cub closed its eyes, as if it were tired. Elin bit her lip. Leelan had reacted to the harp. If she could just produce the same sound as its mother, she was sure the cub would respond to her. But how could she do that? When she plucked the harp inside the blanket, it was muffled, but the sound she remembered had more resonance. If she could just get a little more tension, if she could pluck the string inside something like a drum, she might get closer. She stood up with the blanket still draped over her shoulders. “You want permission to leave the school?” Esalu had just returned to her office after breakfast. Resting one hand on her desk, she lowered herself into her seat and looked up at Elin. “Where do you want to go and why?” “I want to go to the town at the bottom of the hill. I saw an instrument maker there when Uncle Joeun and I were passing through on our way here. I’d like to go as soon as possible.” “You want to go to an instrument maker?” Elin licked her lips. “There’s something I want to try.” Esalu watched her as she explained what had happened since yesterday. The girl kept running her thumb over a red mark on her chin, as if nervous about what the headmistress would think. When she had finished, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. Esalu brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “I had heard that Royal Beasts make that kind of sound. You remember that I once went to see some Beast Hunters?” “Yes.” “Well, at that time, a veteran hunter told me that Royal Beasts in the wild make a different sound from those in captivity. He, too, said it sounded like a harp string.” Elin nodded. “Yes, it does.” Esalu continued to gaze steadily at her. “But even if you can reproduce that sound, isn’t it a bit simplistic to think that you’ll be able to communicate with a Royal Beast?” A faint blush crept into Elin’s cheeks. “I’m not expecting to be able to talk to Leelan with a harp,” she said passionately. “Beasts don’t think or feel the same way that people do. So even if I could understand the words they used, I don’t think I could have a conversation with them. But it should still be possible to communicate very simple things, just like with a dog or a horse. If a dog is trained to understand the command to wait, it will wait until we tell it to eat. I’ve heard that Royal Beasts are very smart. If that’s true, then we should be able to teach them at least the same things that a dog can understand.” Esalu shook her head. “Elin, dogs live in packs that have a very clear hierarchy. Communication with members of the pack is crucial. If they recognize a human as their master, they will obey. Bonds of trust can be formed … But Royal Beasts are not the same. They don’t live in packs; they’re solitary creatures. They will never grow accustomed to people, and they will never form bonds of trust.” “But the Beasts I saw in the wild often spoke to their young. Dogs or horses tend to communicate more through touch, but the Royal Beasts seemed to communicate through that harp-like sound quite a lot.” Esalu’s eyes narrowed, but Elin leaned forward. “Miss Esalu, you told me to look for the differences between Royal Beasts in the wild and those in captivity. Well, this is a remarkable difference. I want to know why. Why don’t Beasts in captivity make the same sounds as Beasts in the wild? “Also, Leelan was definitely asking me something. I want to know what it was trying to say.” Esalu ran a finger across her lips and gazed blankly at the bookcase, as if pondering something. “All right,” she said finally. “Go ahead and try it.” She pulled open a drawer and took out a piece of paper with some writing on it and a bag of coins. “Use these. There are fifty copper pieces in here. If that’s not enough, give them this promissory note. It should be worth the loan of a small piece of silver because it’s from the school. But don’t buy anything that costs more than that.” Elin bowed happily. “Thank you so much!” Esalu nodded without smiling. “Can you ride a horse? It will take two toh on foot.” “Yes, I can ride.” “Then ask one of the custodians to lend you a horse. Be careful, and make sure you’re back before curfew.” “I will.” 2 TURNING POINT A shadow fell across Elin’s hands. “There you go again, making something weird. What’s that?” She did not look up. Although she heard Tomura’s voice, it registered as meaningless sounds rather than as words. Her full attention was focused on trying to decide whether to directly cover the wooden frame of the harp in leather, or to bend a curved bamboo piece along either side of the frame and stretch the leather around them. She had not been able to get as much leather as she would have liked. If she made a mistake, she would have to go back and buy more. While it would be more work, it would be easier to adjust the sound if she stretched the leather across an outer frame of bamboo. This would also mean that she could use the leather as a single large piece. Then, if that didn’t work, she could try the other method and cut the leather into smaller pieces without worrying about running out. “All right, then. That’s decided,” she murmured. She picked up two thin bamboo sticks she had gotten from a bamboo artisan. From the instrument maker, she had managed, after much persuasion, to purchase a piece of unscraped cowhide for making drum leather, as well as a piece of scraped hide that had already been stretched and dried across a drum shell. The latter would resonate better, but Elin decided to try the unscraped cowhide first. It was too dark in the stable for this job, and she was longing for some sunlight, so she had spread a cloth on the grass outside. It was a bright sunny day, warm enough to raise a light sweat as she worked, and a reminder that spring was almost over. She clamped the bottom end of the bamboo frame between her toes and placed the top end against the harp, nicking the spot with her knife to mark it. It was not just the strings but the wooden frame of the harp that resonated. What she was about to do would change her harp permanently. The thought that it would never sound the same again brought a twinge of regret. She continued working steadily. By the time she had finished, the late afternoon sun had dyed the world with golden light. A leather pouch, curved by the bamboo, now stretched around the right side of her harp. Placing it on her knees, she closed her eyes and plucked a string. Lon … Resonating within the hide, the sound was muffled. Elin frowned with concentration, eyes still closed as she followed the note. It was close, much closer than before. There was a slight difference in pitch, but the way it resonated was very like the sound that the mother Beast had made. A slow smile spread across her face. This just might work. If she adjusted the tuning slightly, she should be able to get even closer to the sound she wanted. She let out the breath she had been holding and opened her eyes. They felt raw, and the muscles at the back of her skull were so tight, they gave her a slight headache. She looked around and frowned in puzzlement. A breeze passed gently across the twilit meadow. Somehow, she had had the impression that Tomura was standing beside her, but no one was there. In fact, he had left long ago in disgust because, no matter what he said, Elin only responded with vague noises. She had no recollection of when he had come to stand beside her or when he had left. Her back and knees were stiff from sitting so long. She grimaced as she stood up. Holding the experimental harp, she looked toward the stable. Considering Leelan’s physical condition, she should really test it now. But her legs would not move. What if this doesn’t work either? She sighed. She would call it a day and try tomorrow when it was light. It was almost time for Leelan to sleep anyway. She knew that she was just avoiding it, but still she packed up her tools silently and returned to the dormitory for supper. “Miss Esalu! Miss Esalu!” At the sound of Tomura’s urgent voice outside her door, Esalu stopped writing and raised her head. “Come in.” No sooner had she spoken than the door slid open violently. Tomura burst into the room, his face pale except for two bright spots on his cheeks. “What’s wrong?” Esalu asked, frowning. With trembling lips, Tomura said, “The cub … It’s eating. Leelan is eating!” Esalu’s eyes widened. “What did you say?” “Please, come. Come and see.” Esalu rose and ushered Tomura, who was all but hopping up and down, out of the room. When the cub’s stable came into sight, the first thing she noticed was a large hole in the wall. Following her gaze, Tomura hastily explained. “Oh … I should have reported to you sooner, but I widened the hole yesterday. Elin asked me to.” “That must let in a lot more light. Doesn’t it frighten Leelan?” “No, not at all. Leelan’s not afraid of light anymore.” Esalu pursed her lips and approached the stable door. It was much brighter inside than in the other stables. The acrid smell of dung and urine stung her nostrils, but this barely registered. The sight before her brought her to a standstill, her heart in her throat. Elin was standing on the other side of the bars, face to face with Leelan. In her hands she held some strange instrument with which she produced a soft sound. Lon, lon. The Beast cub held down a large piece of meat with its feet and bobbed its head up and down as it tore off chunks and swallowed them. Esalu stared, forgetting to breathe. The early summer light shone brightly on the filthy straw, on the giant cub, and on the slight figure of Elin, who only came up as high as the cub’s shoulder. With each jerk of Leelan’s head, dust particles danced in the air. Elin’s face was expressionless, her eyes half closed as if all her attention was focused on the sounds she was making. Leelan gobbled down the last lump of meat and then cried in a wheedling tone. Shashasha. Elin walked slowly backward, plucking her harp—lon, lon, lon—as if in response, and then ducked her head through the gate of the enclosure. She did not close it, but instead stood on the other side of the bars, quietly and slowly plucking the string. The cub’s head swayed as if in time with the harp. Then its eyes grew glazed and sleepy, just like a baby with a full belly and no fear in the world. Only when its eyes closed did Elin put down her harp and shut the gate. When she picked up her harp again, expression finally returned to her face. As she met Esalu’s gaze, her eyes filled slowly with tears. Weeping soundlessly, she walked over to Esalu, and the three left the stable without uttering a word. Once outside, Esalu placed a hand on Elin’s trembling arm. “You did it, Elin,” she said huskily, then could say no more. Tears pouring from her eyes, Elin nodded. The three of them sat down on the grass beside the stable. “So, Leelan responded to your harp just as you thought,” Esalu murmured. She ran a hand over the instrument with the hide frame. “Yes … Two days ago, when I plucked the strings in the stable, Leelan looked at me as if surprised. And began making a noise that seemed like a response.” “What did you do?” “I tried answering back.” Esalu frowned. “But how? Could you understand the meaning of the notes?” Elin wiped the tears from her cheeks and shook her head. “No. But I remembered a sound that the mother Beast used to make and tried to reproduce it.” She adjusted the harp on her knee and plucked a string. Lon, lolon, lon … Lon, lolon, lon. “The mother Beast often sang like that when cuddling her cub in the nest … And when I played those notes, Leelan gave a cry that sounded like a baby asking for more attention.” Esalu leaned forward. “You mean ‘shashasha,’ right? I’ve never heard a Royal Beast make that sound. Is that what it means?” “I think so. Because, in the wild, the cub would rub its nose against its mother when it made that sound…” For the last two days, Elin had played the harp frequently in the stable, focusing her thoughts on reassuring the cub. It’s going to be okay, Leelan. You’re safe now. And every time, the cub had made that coaxing sound. Later, it had begun to rub its head against the bars of the enclosure, as if trying to get closer to Elin. It was at one of these moments that she had asked Tomura to enlarge the hole in the wall. Even when its whole body was bathed in light, the cub had not seemed to mind. Not only that, but whenever Elin returned after leaving the stable for meals, it had cried and flapped its wings, just as the wild cub in its nest had done when its mother returned. This morning, she had been stunned to see it making the same motion the wild cub had made when it wanted to be fed. Now, she had thought. I’m sure it will eat if I feed it now. But she could not play the harp and wave the meat on the end of a spear at the same time. She had hesitated, but if she let this moment pass, the chance might never come again. Quicker than thought, she had jumped to her feet and opened the gate. Placing a lump of fresh meat inside, and then, plucking the harp to soothe the cub, she had stepped into the enclosure. Tucking the harp under her arm for a moment, she had picked up the meat, raised it to the cub’s eye level, and then had placed it at its feet. Just as before, the cub’s head had followed the meat down to the ground. Smelling it, Leelan had looked at Elin and cried uncertainly. Lon, lon, lon. Elin had held her breath and plucked out the response. Lon, lolon, lon … A light had gleamed in Leelan’s eyes, as if the chains on its mind had sprung open. It had bit the meat ferociously, ripping off chunks and gobbling them up. Esalu had been listening intently, but at this she looked shocked. “Elin! How could you! Thank goodness you were spared this time, but you should never, ever go near a Beast that hasn’t been immobilized.” Elin winced at the violence of her tone. “Yes, I know. I thought the same thing afterward. I’m sorry.” Esalu shook her head slowly and sighed. For some time, no one said a word. Only the sound of the breeze stirring the treetops could be heard in the quiet meadow. “Outrageous,” Esalu whispered finally, and Elin braced herself for another scolding. But the headmistress’s expression was gentle. To Elin’s surprise, she saw admiration in Esalu’s eyes. “You really are an outrageous child, you know,” Esalu murmured. “You’ve done something that no one has ever achieved before.” Much later Elin was to ask herself many times, what was the turning point? Was it the afternoon she had begged Esalu to let her care for Leelan? Or the night she had decided to use her harp to respond? Or was it … And every time she came to the same conclusion. There had been many turning points. Some fate had forced upon her, while for others, she had forged the path herself. But one thing was certain: That particular morning represented a major change in her life. 3 THE DECISION The Beast cub first ventured out into the sun three days after it began to eat. It had been fasting so long that Elin was worried it would not be able to digest the meat, but it was blessed with good health and steadily recovered without vomiting or getting diarrhea. When the custodian slid back the large door to the pasture, Leelan ran out into the sunlight on slightly wobbly legs. Located in the highlands, the Kazalumu Beast Sanctuary was mostly meadow, and was bordered by a forest and a river on the far end. The main meadowland, which was the area near the stables, was dotted with large ponds formed by groundwater welling to the surface. These made perfect bathing pools for the Royal Beasts. Elin and the others watched from a distance as the cub approached one of these ponds on its unsteady feet. It crouched at the edge and drank, then jumped in with a vigor that made those watching gasp. Leelan, looking very pleased, splashed about so exuberantly that Elin, Tomura, and even Esalu could not help grinning. “Royal Beasts like to keep clean,” Tomura said with a laugh. “So I guess it makes sense that having a bath would be the first thing it would do.” “Do you think it could drown?” Elin asked, but Tomura shook his head. “No, the pond’s not deep enough. You don’t need to worry.” Squinting against the sun, Esalu watched the cub. Finally, she nodded and said, “It looks like it’ll be all right. While it’s outside, you two go and clean that stable. I have a meeting now, but if anything happens, be sure to let me know right away.” After watching her stride off into the woods, Tomura turned his gaze back to Leelan. The cub splashed, and drops of water sprayed through the air, glittering like jewels in the sunlight. At last, it climbed out of the pond, drenched and dripping, and sat down in a sunny spot, where it closed its eyes contentedly. “I feel like I’m in a dream,” Tomura said as he watched the cub. “I can hardly believe that that’s Leelan over there basking in the sun … You’re amazing, you know. And I’m not just saying that.” Startled, Elin looked up at him. “I mean, you actually did it.” He raised his eyebrows and looked down at her. “Even if, for example, you had used some secret of the Ahlyo—” Elin frowned. “But I never—” Tomura raised his hand. “Wait until I finish. What I wanted to say is that I would still respect you, even if you had known and used those secret ways.” She blinked as he continued calmly. “It’s your determination—your absolutely crazy determination—that I respect. For the last twelve days, the only thing you have thought about is Leelan. I have never seen anyone so totally focused as you.” His mouth twitched in a smile. “Not to mention your wacky ideas … Watching you made me realize that worrying about what other people think really holds back the imagination. You’re just totally oblivious to all that. You say the craziest things and never even consider whether people will laugh at you. That’s why you come up with ideas that no one else would ever dream of.” Not knowing how to respond, Elin stared at the ground. Tomura patted her shoulder with a large hand. “Time to get to work on that stable, don’t you think? I’ll rake out the dirty straw, and you run water over the floor, okay?” Elin looked up in surprise. “What? No, wait. I can do the straw.” Tomura laughed. “It’s okay. I’m faster than you anyway.” He strode off toward the toolshed. Elin started to follow him, but then turned to take one last look at Leelan. When she saw the cub dozing in the sun, its head nodding, she felt something warm rise from her middle and spread slowly to every corner of her body. The cub was napping in the sun … Time, which had come to a halt, had begun to move again. Elin smiled and ran to catch up with Tomura. The headmistress’s office was not that large. When all ten teachers gathered there, it felt quite stuffy. Esalu, however, always held meetings in this room because she found it easier to concentrate here than in the spacious dining hall. The entire teaching staff was already there when she entered. Some had been puzzled by the urgent summons, and Yassa, her assistant, was in the middle of explaining the situation. The faces they turned to her betrayed their excitement. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. When she had sat down at her desk, Yassa asked, “How did it go? Did you let it out into the meadow?” “Yes. It was a little shaky on its feet, but it went out and bathed.” Yassa smiled broadly. “That’s wonderful!” Esalu turned to look at the others. “As I’m sure Yassa has just told you, Leelan has begun to eat and is recovering steadily. I called this meeting today to consult about this matter.” She paused for a moment, but just as she opened her mouth to continue, another teacher cut her off. It was Losa, a middle-aged man with a biting tongue that made students keep out of his way. “Before you continue, may I be allowed to speak?” “Of course.” “I know that Professor Yassa was still in the middle of explaining, but have you heard the rumor that has been circulating among the students?” “What rumor?” “That the child of the Ahlyo has used their secrets to treat Leelan. I told the students not to be ridiculous and reprimanded them severely. However, if I may be so bold as to say so: In my humble opinion, the reason such rumors arose in the first place is because you, the headmistress, entrusted that girl—who is only in the second level of middle school—with the care of a Beast cub. That was a blatant display of favoritism.” Esalu’s lip curled. “Yes, that is most certainly what sparked the rumor. But clearly, my decision was not a mistake, at least in terms of Leelan’s recovery.” Losa opened his mouth again, but Esalu silenced him with a wave of her hand. “Let me hear your thoughts and questions later. First, let me explain how this all came about.” The teachers sat up straight. “You’re all aware of the circumstances in which Leelan suffered physical and emotional wounds, so there’s no need to confirm those details. The cub showed an extreme aversion to light and had not taken any food or tokujisui for over a month. The situation had reached the point where the cub might have died had it continued to refuse food and drink for another two weeks. This is something that we had all discussed many times, but none of us were able to find a solution. Are you with me so far?” They all nodded, and she continued. “The reason I chose a girl who was only in the second level to care for Leelan is because I saw a clue to a solution within the knowledge she possessed. Not because she was Ahlyo,” Esalu said, looking pointedly at Losa, “but because she had observed Royal Beasts in the wild.” A murmur of voices rose from the assembly. Most of them were learning of this for the first time. Esalu looked around the room, and everyone fell silent again. “The girl, Elin, has observed Royal Beasts in the wild. In addition, she has outstanding powers of creative thinking and observation. This is something those of you who have taught her already know, and it also makes clear why Joeun, who for many years served as the headmaster of Tamuyuan, thought she was so special. I decided that if our traditional approaches had failed, we had nothing to lose by letting her try.” Losa scowled, but many of the other teachers were nodding, particularly those who had taught Elin. “The first thing Elin discovered was the reason Leelan was afraid of light. She reasoned that for a cub that was used to being in the nest with its mother, light would ordinarily come from below. Being exposed suddenly to light from above would mean that its mother was gone. She asked me if she could remove the boards at the bottom of the stable wall, and I said yes, because I thought it was an excellent idea. And it worked. Leelan was not afraid of light that gradually entered the stall from below.” The teachers’ faces registered surprise. Esalu nodded and continued. “Even from this one idea you can see how innovative Elin is … I’m ashamed to admit it, but until she said she wanted to remove those boards, I had never even considered the angle of the light.” A rueful smile touched her eyes. “Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that there is a gap in our knowledge, rather than in our ability to think creatively. Because Elin had seen Royal Beasts in the wild, she knew how a mother and cub live in the nest. We, however, don’t even know that much. We, who have been entrusted by the Yojeh to care for the Royal Beasts, simply do not know.” A heavy silence fell over the room. “But—” Yassa began. “Yes,” Esalu said, nodding. “There’s nothing we can do about that because we are strictly bound to follow the Royal Beast Canon. Royal Beasts are the symbol of the Yojeh’s sovereignty, and when they come under the care of humans, the Canon must be followed to the letter. Every item of their care is recorded in minute detail from what to feed them to the type of straw used in their stalls. The Canon states that Royal Beasts must always be given tokujisui and that we must use the Silent Whistle when we approach them.” Esalu looked at each of them in turn. “That is precisely why it never occurred to us that there might be any other way of raising them. There was no room for us to discover new ideas. But Elin, who is still only in the second level, does not know the Royal Beast Canon. The Royal Beasts that she knows were those she saw in the wild when she went deep into the mountains with her foster father, Joeun. So she treated Leelan not like a Beast in captivity, but like a Beast in the wild. She remembered how the cub demanded food from its mother and what made it feel safe and calm. That’s where she got her ideas.” She rubbed her arms. “It made my hair stand on end to hear that the child had walked into the enclosure without using the Silent Whistle. Instead, she plucked a harp that she had altered to sound like the mother Beast. She got close enough to touch the cub when she fed it.” The teachers looked astonished, and Losa exclaimed, “But that’s impossible. You mean the rumor is true, then? She used the secret ways of the Ahlyo?” “Professor Losa,” Esalu said with an exasperated expression. “Didn’t you hear a word I said?” Losa looked offended. “What do you mean by that?” “Exactly what I said. Why do you think that I have just explained in such great detail how Elin came up with her ideas? I was demonstrating that it was not the secrets of the Ahlyo that helped her to heal Leelan. Far from it. Rather, she succeeded because she could examine the problem through the lens of her knowledge of the Beasts in the wild, without being restricted by the Royal Beast Canon as we are. Now is it clear?” Losa flushed bright red. “I know that. But being able to come up with an idea like imitating a mother Beast on a harp does not make one capable of actually doing it!” Esalu shifted her gaze ever so slightly, a sign Losa’s sharp eyes did not miss. He continued, “You see I’m right, don’t you? She couldn’t have done it without some special skill. There must be something behind this—something like the tricks that the Ahlyo are said to use.” Esalu stopped him with a movement of her hand. “Just a moment, Professor Losa. It’s perfectly natural for you to think that … Or rather, I should say that that is precisely why I called this meeting. I knew that some people would think like this.” Her expression was stern as she gazed at them. “We must urgently consult about whether or not to report to the palace the fact that Elin did not use the Silent Whistle, and that instead she found a way to communicate with a Royal Beast using a harp.” The teachers looked at one another and began talking among themselves, filling the room with the clamor of their voices. Losa waved his hand as though to cut through the noise and declared in his shrill voice, “But there’s no question about it! We cannot possibly fail to report a matter of such grave importance.” Esalu thumped on her desk for silence. She waited for the clamor to recede like the tide pulling back from the shore, and then spoke. “First, think calmly about what would happen if we were to report this to the palace. Until now, we believed that the Royal Beasts would never become accustomed to man. The only method we knew by which we could control them was the Silent Whistle. And all it does is immobilize them. It does not communicate our intentions. Elin has overthrown these assumptions.” “Yes, and that’s exactly why—” Esalu interrupted, her voice like thunder. “Hold your tongue until you have heard me out!” Everyone jumped at the fierceness of her tone. Esalu glared at Losa, her eyes aflame. Words flowed from her as though bursting through a dike. “If we report this to the palace, naturally it will cause an uproar. I will most certainly be accused of failing to obey the tenets of the Royal Beast Canon. I would readily accept that. From the moment I adopted this course of action, I planned how to explain myself. But my greatest concern is for Elin—for this girl that we accepted into our school as our responsibility. It’s Elin who I fear for!” She slammed her hand on her desk. “She has done nothing wrong. Her only crime was to long, with all her heart, to cure Leelan. To do that, she spent twelve solid days and nights with that Beast cub, and because of that effort, she has done what we could not. She has achieved the impossible! “But there are many who will not believe that this is the result of her efforts. They will look at the color of her eyes and connect her achievement to the blood that runs in her veins.” She seemed to be struggling to keep the anguish from her face. “If someone else had also been able to control Leelan as Elin did, I would not be so worried … But both Tomura and I tried it. We plucked the harp the same way she did, but the cub only listened. It did not respond the way that it did to Elin.” The expressions on the teachers’ faces revealed mixed emotions. Esalu watched them with her right hand pressed against her temple. “Yes, you see. Just as you are now thinking, anyone who hears this will feel that Elin must be different from us. But, you know, I don’t believe that that’s the case. I ask you to think about this objectively as beast doctors. From Leelan’s point of view, yes, Elin is special. But that’s not because she’s an Ahlyo. It’s because she managed to make Leelan see her as its mother. “Think about it. It’s as if Leelan has been reborn. The cub was lost in the terror of darkness, with no mother to respond to its cries. And who was it who responded as its own mother had? Elin. It was Elin who gave it food, while reassuring the cub that it was safe to eat.” Yassa stroked his beard. “You mean it’s a type of imprinting?” he murmured. Esalu nodded. “Most likely. Our knowledge of the Beasts is limited, so it’s hard to say for sure, but I believe that that’s highly probable.” A young teacher spoke, his face thoughtful. “But many cubs that age have been brought to our sanctuary and raised here, yet there has never been any report of this kind of imprinting.” Esalu turned to look at him, brushing an unruly strand of hair from her face. “What is the procedure you use to feed the cubs?” He looked surprised, as if he were wondering why she would ask such an obvious question. “I leave the food in the cub’s enclosure while it’s out in the meadow. If it’s raining, or if for some other reason I can’t let the cub outside, I blow the Silent Whistle and paralyze it before leaving the meat inside.” Esalu nodded. “Exactly. Now imagine what that looks like to the cub. Food is placed in its enclosure when it’s not there, or food appears before its eyes while it lies paralyzed. How could a cub possibly see us as a mother figure who feeds it?” “Oh,” the young teacher whispered. Esalu continued in a quiet voice. “We’ve never tried to have any intimate contact with the Royal Beasts. We care for them for decades and nurse them when they die, yet we never establish the type of relationship with them that we would with a cherished dog or horse … And as long as we follow the procedures dictated by the Royal Beast Canon, we never will establish such a relationship.” The teachers stared at her silently, as if pondering this new perspective. “Elin, who does not know the Canon, cared for Leelan as she would have for a dog or horse. As a result, she is the first person in the entire nation to have succeeded in bonding with a Royal Beast.” Esalu’s face was tinged with sadness. “But in the eyes of the statesmen in the palace, this result will have an entirely different meaning. They will rejoice to know that the Royal Beasts can be controlled. And they will try to use Elin for their political schemes because of her special power.” Esalu’s voice grew hoarse. “When I think of how they will treat her—this unique young woman, who is so clearly of Ahlyo lineage—I am overcome with fear. “If she becomes the focus of such attention, she cannot fail to attract the notice of the Aluhan and his people. Remember, the Royal Beast, the only living creature capable of devouring the Toda, symbolizes the ascendancy of the Yojeh’s power over the Aluhan. I am sure that even you can guess what would happen then.” A heavy silence enveloped the room. Esalu whispered, “If I had known that that child would do something so unorthodox, I would never have entrusted Leelan into her care. But regret will not turn back time. All I can do now is find a way to protect her. “Let me ask you once again,” she said quietly. “Do you think we should report what has happened to the palace?” Despite the sunny afternoon, at sunset, clouds moved in to cover the sky, and night brought with it a driving rain. Elin crouched on the floor of the stable as always, watching Leelan sleep while she listened to the rain strike the roof. At suppertime, Esalu had explained to the entire school how Elin had helped Leelan recover. Her explanation had been very clear, and so convincing, it squashed for good the rumor that Elin had used Ahlyo magic. When she had finished, Esalu had called on everyone to guard the story within the walls of Kazalumu. If people from the palace were to learn of this tale, she had said, they would find an excuse to take Elin and Leelan away to Lazalu, the official Beast sanctuary. She had begged them to vow to protect their classmate and the Beast cub and prevent that from happening. When she had finished speaking, everyone—teachers and students alike—had risen to their feet and, placing their hands over their hearts, had vowed to do so. At the sound of their voices, which had shaken the dining hall, Elin had felt for the first time in her life what it was like to be protected by friends. A hot rush of joy spread through her as Yuyan’s hand squeezed hers and her fellow students beamed at her. But when the meal was over, Esalu had summoned her to her office. There she had learned the other meaning concealed within this vow, and the knowledge made her skin crawl. The Royal Beasts that devoured the Toda were the symbol of the Yojeh’s power, Esalu had explained, and her ability to manipulate them would make her a crucial pawn in the eyes of both the Yojeh and the Aluhan. It had never occurred to Elin that the bond between her and Leelan could be seen in that way. Esalu had once told her that the Royal Beasts were political creatures, but now, for the first time, the reality of those words pressed against her heart. That’s what Esalu was protecting us from by making the whole school vow to keep Leelan’s story a secret. Elin covered her face with her hands. It’s all so stupid, she thought. Royal Beasts eat Toda because that’s what they were born to do, just like horses eat grass. How could anyone claim that this gave them the right to rule the country? In her mind’s eye, she saw the face of the inspector who had sentenced her mother to death. His reasons had been ludicrous, yet he had spoken as if what he was doing was for the highest good. “The most important qualification for the care of the Toda,” he had shouted, “is unwavering loyalty to the Aluhan!” Mother … Unlike her grandfather, she was sure that her mother had looked after the Toda for their own sake, not for the sake of the Aluhan. Otherwise, she would not have loathed the Silent Whistle or tokujisui. Had she cared about the Toda the same way that Elin cared about Leelan? Had she wished that these creatures, who were born in the wild, could live as nature had intended them to live? Elin’s hands slid slowly from her face. The damp night air touched her cheeks. No matter what happened, she would stay true to her heart. It was no concern of hers what the Yojeh or the Aluhan hoped to achieve through their struggle for power. Even if it should put her life in danger, she would not bend in her resolve. Regardless of what the Royal Beast Canon said, she would never make Leelan drink tokujisui, something a Beast in the wild would never touch. Nor would she ever use the Silent Whistle. She had shared these feelings with Esalu, although she did not tell her about her mother. Esalu’s expression had seemed dark, as if she were pondering something, but she had agreed. “Because,” she had said, “I promised to leave the cub in your care if you could make it eat again.” Elin had always thought of Esalu as an intimidating woman, and had suspected her of having hidden motives. To her surprise, however, the expression that had flitted across her face at that moment had reminded her of her mother. A strong wind shook the Beast stable, and the rain lashed against the walls. The sound must have startled the cub, because its eyes popped open. It stood up, making an anxious sound in its throat, and tottered over to the bars to butt its head against them. Without thinking, Elin rose and, putting her arm through the bars, reached up to rub Leelan’s cheek. Its fur, which she was touching for the first time, was far softer than she had imagined. The cub’s eyes narrowed, and it rubbed its cheek against her hand, crying plaintively. Affection welled up inside her. How she wished she was big enough to wrap her arms around this poor, frightened little cub. 4 THE LAST LETTER Leelan grew rapidly. So much so that Elin noticed changes almost daily. The Summer Trials, exams that determined which students could go on to the next level, were approaching, and she could not afford to spend so much time with the cub. But when she was not there, Leelan wandered about the meadow forlornly, crying and searching for her, and this made it hard for her to focus on her studies. Kazalumu School could not afford to let students stay any longer than necessary. Those who failed their exams had to leave. If their parents were wealthy enough to pay for tuition, students who failed could stay on for an extra year, but Elin had no intention of asking Joeun for money. Of course, Yuyan helped Elin to catch up on her studies but, much to her surprise, Tomura also came to her rescue. He would have to take the Graduation Trials very soon, which ought to mean that he had no time to spare for anyone else. But he did not seem in the least concerned when he was tutoring her. His claim that he was an exceptional student must be true. Somehow she managed to make it through the Summer Trials, and then the long summer holidays began. Students were allowed to return home, except when they were in charge of the Royal Beasts and any sick animals from neighboring farms. Most students could not wait to be reunited with their families, while their parents, who needed every pair of helping hands during the busy farming season, were just as eager to welcome them home. When Elin found out that she could go home for the holidays if she chose, the thought of visiting Joeun passed through her mind. But when she considered how he might greet her now that he had returned to his old life in the capital, she did not have the courage to put that thought into action. And then there was Leelan. If she left the cub behind, someone might use the Silent Whistle. In the end, she contented herself with writing him a long letter. She wrote about life at the school, about Yuyan, and many other things, but she did not mention Leelan, just in case Joeun’s son read it. Only a few months had passed since she and Joeun had parted, but the days they had lived together now seemed like some distant dream. She found this both strange and sad. Yuyan left for her home far away, complaining repeatedly about how much she would miss Elin. Even though she knew that she would see Yuyan in the fall, the room seemed huge and empty without her. Tomura had passed his exams at the top of his class and was now a qualified beast doctor. He told Elin that he was going to stay in Kazalumu for a year starting in the fall, and help care for the animals while he thought about what to do next. Having graduated with the highest score, he also had the right to remain at the school as a teacher. He had told her frankly that he was considering that option. With far fewer people, the school was very quiet. The Kazalumu highlands remained fairly cool even in summer. Still, the sultry hum of cicadas could be heard from the forest bordering the meadow, and Elin found herself drenched in sweat every time she cleaned the stables. Freed from her studies, she spent all her time with Leelan, from early morning until late at night, as if they were parent and child or siblings. One day, she realized something astonishing. Leelan seemed to understand what she was saying—not everything, in the way that a human would, but without a doubt, the cub recognized and understood certain words. She was cleaning the stable when she first noticed this. Leelan came back before she was finished and was about to come inside. Without thinking, she shouted, “Stay outside! I’m not finished yet!” Instantly, Leelan halted at the doorway. The cub poked its head inside to see what she was doing, but did not come in. At first, Elin could not believe it. She finished cleaning, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and placed a lump of meat in its stall. “It’s all right. You can come in now,” she said. As soon as she had spoken, Leelan rushed inside. Elin felt the hairs rise on the nape of her neck. The only possible explanation for the cub’s behavior was that it had understood what she had said. When she thought about this, she realized that it was not so strange. After all, dogs, when trained, could understand such commands as “Stay!” so it made sense that Royal Beasts could, too. But the thought of the possibilities this opened up made her tingle with excitement. How much language can Royal Beasts understand? she wondered. If she combined harp notes with words and gestures, Leelan might be capable of understanding quite a lot. From that day onward, she threw herself into teaching Leelan words. Once she started, it was soon obvious that Leelan picked up meanings much more quickly and intuitively than a dog or a horse. Not only that, but the cub watched her closely and tried to mimic her. Perhaps Leelan was observing her facial expressions, gestures, and tone of voice just as intently as Elin had been doing with Leelan in order to guess how the cub was feeling. Royal Beast cubs spent most of their time with their mothers, learning one-on-one how to survive, so remembering the mother’s gestures and tone of voice must be very important. At the same time, Elin was struck by the enormity of the responsibility she had taken on. Is it really all right for me to act as Leelan’s surrogate mother? After pondering this for some time, she decided to consult Esalu. Esalu listened carefully to her concern. When she spoke, her expression was grave. “I see.” She paused and stroked her chin. Then she raised her eyes and looked at Elin. “So you’re worried that if you try to serve as Leelan’s mother, the cub won’t learn how to live or communicate as a Royal Beast, and instead will learn to communicate with humans. Is that correct?” “Yes. If I go on like this, the cub will learn the words that I speak, but not the language of other Beasts.” A sad smile crossed Esalu’s face. “Elin, you don’t need to worry about that.” “Really? Why?” Elin asked. “Because the cub will live and die here…” Esalu said quietly. “It was a gift to the Yojeh. It will never be returned to the wild. You have forgotten that.” Elin felt as if she had been punched in the chest. Stunned into silence, she could only stare at Esalu. She did not remember bowing or leaving the room, or even walking down the corridor. When she saw Leelan standing in the bright summer sun, a fierce sorrow surged within her. Even if she never used the Silent Whistle and never gave the cub tokujisui, in the end, Leelan could still never live as Beasts did in the wild. The cub would have to live here to the end of its days. She wept soundlessly, the tears pouring down her cheeks. Not long after, Elin’s letter to Joeun came back in an unexpected way. One evening, as she was feeding Leelan, one of the custodians came and told her that Esalu wanted to see her urgently. She washed her hands quickly and hurried to the office, but when she asked for permission to enter, the voice that responded sounded so husky that she thought it must be someone else. When she entered the room, Esalu gazed at her steadily with red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. “Come here, Elin,” she said. Elin walked over to her, and Esalu handed her a thin envelope that lay on top of a parcel. Elin’s name was written on it in strong black script. She turned it over and saw that the sender was Asan Tohsana. A chill pierced her heart. With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope and extracted the letter, spreading it open. The first line leapt out at her. My father, Joeun Tohsana, passed away yesterday morning from a heart attack. The sentence rang repeatedly in her mind. Her brain seemed to have gone numb. No matter how many times she tried to read the rest of the letter, her eyes just slid over the words. She did not realize that she was crying until Esalu gently took the letter from her hands. “May I read it?” she asked. Elin nodded. Esalu quickly read it through. “Very brief, isn’t it? He wrote only the bare minimum … What a heartless son.” She sighed and gripped Elin’s shoulder. “You must be brave, Elin.” Hearing the huskiness in Esalu’s voice, Elin felt the truth sink heavy in her chest: Joeun was gone. His face, his voice, rose in her mind. She would never, ever see him again. Even though she had hoped someday to surprise him by showing him Leelan. Even though she had been aiming to graduate at the top of her class so that she could see the pride in his face and hear him praise her. Even though she had been planning to thank him on that day for taking her in, to tell him that her life had been happy because of him. She had not told him any of the things that really mattered. And now he had left her without any chance to do so. Elin covered her face with her hands and wept aloud. Esalu came around her desk and embraced her awkwardly. She held her until she stopped crying. “Don’t cry, Elin,” she said. “Joeun told me how happy he was to have lived with you. He was so proud of you. So don’t cry anymore.” She let her arms fall and opened the large parcel that lay on her desk. “Look. Joeun left these for you.” Inside the brown waxed paper were the books that Elin had discovered in Joeun’s closet and read in secret. “Isn’t that just like him?” Elin did not answer. She rested her forehead on the books and wept again. Joeun’s son, in accordance with his father’s will, had sent the books to Elin and Esalu after the funeral, along with the simple note announcing his father’s death. It was very clear that he wanted nothing to do with the Ahlyo girl that his eccentric father had taken under his wing. Still, because of Esalu’s prestige, he would have done what was proper for Elin if she had asked him. Elin, however, had no intention of meeting him ever again. She felt no desire to have a guardian other than Joeun. She was no longer a child. Fortunately, she did not need to worry about food, clothing, or shelter until she graduated, and by then, she would be old enough to take care of herself. Watching the sky darken to twilight, Elin thought of the summer days she had spent with Joeun. And it gradually dawned on her how incredibly lucky she had been. If no one had found her on the bank where the Toda had left her, she would probably have died. If the person who had found her had been cruel, who knew what kind of misery she might now be living in? She saw Joeun’s smiling face in her mind’s eye. Yes, she had been happy. Those days with him were like priceless gems. When I grow up, I’ll go back to the meadow on Kasho Mountain where Joeun had his summer hut. She would lie in that meadow full of flowers he had loved so much, look up at the sky, and speak with him. She would tell him how grateful she was for all he had done, how much she had longed to see him, how she had spent her days, and how she had grown up … She would live in such a way that Joeun would declare, “Well done, Elin, well done. You’ve lived your life well.” She stood in the meadow gazing up at the sky until the clouds streaming across it turned from smoky gray to a deep, dark blue. 5 WOUNDED Summer had passed, and the students were just returning when the Beast cub began to shed its baby fur. Beneath the soft down, a thicker coat with a brilliant sheen was beginning to emerge, but the effect was marred by shaggy clumps of partly shed fur clinging to its body. “Oh, poor Leelan! What a sorry sight,” Yuyan exclaimed. She had just returned to the school and was visiting the stable for the first time. “Don’t say that, Yuyan. It takes years for Royal Beasts to fully mature and develop a full adult coat. But at least she’ll have shed her baby fur soon. Then she’ll look prettier.” Yuyan’s brows flew up. “She? You mean Leelan’s a female?” “Yup. I just found that out recently.” It was only when Royal Beasts shed their baby fur that it became possible to determine their gender. Esalu had taught Elin how to check, and she had been thrilled to find out that Leelan was female. “She may be a girl, but she’s a raggedy one, that’s for sure,” Tomura remarked as he passed by with the medicine box. Yuyan burst out laughing. “She sure is. A raggedy girl. You couldn’t have put it better, Tomura.” It was true. Leelan did look very raggedy. Elin struggled not to laugh. “You’re so mean,” she teased, and then turned to Leelan. “Don’t you pay any attention to them. Just wait until you get your coat. Then they’ll see.” Leelan raised her head and looked at them, as if she knew they were talking about her. Then she began scratching vigorously, making a rumbling noise in her throat. The matted clumps must be irritating her. Wisps of downy fur whirled in the air. “Now if she were a dog or a horse, we could groom her with a brush,” Tomura said. “That’s an idea,” Elin murmured. She turned abruptly and ran over to the toolshed. Although a dog brush would be too small, a horse brush just might work. When she returned with the brush, Tomura and Yuyan gave her a startled look. “What on earth are you planning to do?” “Do you expect me to sit by quietly while you call my little girl raggedy?” Elin said, grinning at Yuyan as she climbed over the fence. She walked over to Leelan, feeling her friends’ eyes on her back as they watched her anxiously. The cub made a plaintive sound as she approached. Spreading her wings, which had grown significantly, she hopped up and down, stirring up a cloud of fur in Elin’s face. Elin covered her face with her arm. “Leelan! Stop that! Stay still, will you?” Although she still cooed impatiently, Leelan did as she was told, folding her wings and lowering her head to nuzzle her cheek against Elin’s shoulder. “I don’t believe it…” Yuyan looked stunned. “Who would have thought a Royal Beast would do that … She’s acting like a pet dog or cat.” Tomura nodded. “I know what you mean.” Elin raised the brush to Leelan’s nose so that she could smell it. “I’m going to brush your fur with this, so stay still.” Leelan sniffed the brush inquisitively, but when Elin began running it gently over her lower back, she seemed to like the sensation and began purring happily. “You’re just too big, Leelan. It will take me all day to groom you using a horse brush. We’ll have to make one your size.” She kept brushing as she talked, working up to Leelan’s belly and chest, but when she slipped the brush under the wing joint, it caught in a tangle. It must have hurt. With a squeal of pain, Leelan bared her razor-sharp fangs. Before Elin could react, they had nicked her left earlobe and shoulder. Heat shot across her skin, as if she had touched a pair of red-hot tongs. She leapt away with a scream. Staggering backward, she fell to her knees on the grass. Blood dripped down her face. Blood dyed the grass, spreading slowly around her. A single thought blazed through the confusion in her mind. She raised herself to one knee and twisted her body to look back at Tomura. “Don’t!” she yelled. “Don’t blow the whistle!” Tomura, who had just been reaching for his Silent Whistle, froze and let his hand fall. Elin pressed her right hand against her ear and stood up. She felt no pain in her shoulder. Or rather, she felt no sensation at all, as if it were numb. “Whatever you do, don’t blow the whistle!” she shouted again. Then she tried to turn back to Leelan. The cub was frightened. Panicked by the smell of blood and Elin’s reaction, she flapped her wings frantically. I must scold her, Elin thought. I must teach her right now that her fangs can hurt us. But when she saw the blood dripping down her arm, she lost her voice. Her heart raced, and the world around her seemed unsteady. There was a ringing in her ears, as if cicadas were humming in her head. Silver specks of light flickered in front of her eyes, and she broke into a cold sweat. Turning her back on Leelan, she began tottering toward her friends. Dimly, she noticed that they had climbed over the fence and were coming toward her, but everything appeared blurred. I must not fall. If she did, Leelan would panic. She forced herself on, dragging one foot in front of the other. Relief washed through her as she felt Yuyan and Tomura support her on either side. The ringing in her ears became a roar, and the world went dark. When she opened her eyes, she wondered for a moment why she was lying on a soft mattress. She let her gaze wander over the ceiling. The clear light of an autumn afternoon shone through the window. A dull pain throbbed in her left ear and shoulder. She moved her head slowly, wincing, and saw someone sitting by her pillow. It was Esalu. When she saw the disgusted expression on her face, it all came back to her. “Honestly, Elin,” Esalu grumbled. “What a stupid thing to do.” Elin’s face twisted. When she thought of how she had sauntered so confidently up to Leelan with that brush in her hand, she felt so ashamed, she wished she could disappear. How was Leelan feeling right now? Yuyan and Tomura must be worried sick, too. She pulled the quilt up over her head and hid her face. She wept, not so much because of the pain, but because of her stupidity. “Now don’t you go hiding under those covers,” Esalu said sternly. “You’ll just make the cut on your ear worse. You’ve got three stitches in your earlobe and eight in your shoulder, you know.” She pulled back the covers roughly. “If you’re ashamed of what you’ve done, then just make sure you never do such a foolish thing again! This time you got away with a cut on your ear and shoulder, but if those fangs had been even slightly to the right, they would have sliced your jugular. If that happened, you’d be dead. Royal Beasts are not pets. You were so cocksure of your bond with Leelan that it blinded you to the obvious risk!” Elin was sobbing so hard that she could barely breathe, but she nodded. Esalu sighed. “I have to admit that I’m partly to blame. I overestimated your ability. Leelan has almost matured into an adult now. I think it’s better if you don’t touch her anymore.” Elin opened her eyes and stared at Esalu. “No … I won’t stop.” Esalu glared at her. “I don’t care whether you like it or not. No means no. Whether Leelan means to harm you or not, she could cut your throat and kill you just by baring her fangs.” Elin shook her head as best she could without lifting it from the pillow. Struggling to suppress her sobs, she said, “I … know that. I … promise … I won’t be … careless again … But if I … distance myself from Leelan … it won’t be fair … She sees me as … her mother … Please … let me stay … by her side … until she’s ready … to be independent.” Esalu frowned and looked at her for a long moment. Finally, she said with a sigh, “If you insist on seeing Leelan so subjectively, you’re going to get yourself killed one of these days. You’ve fallen into the same delusion that afflicts so many people who care for creatures. You think that this was just a freak accident, don’t you? That as long as a fluke like this never happens again, Leelan will never hurt you. Because you’re special to her.” Elin’s face crumpled. Watching her, Esalu said softly, “It may be true that to Leelan you are like a mother … But a beast is always a beast.” She broke off and rubbed her face with her hand. Her eyes were blurred with fatigue. She looked at Elin and asked, “Do you know what it takes to make a beast obedient?” She did not wait for an answer. “Beasts obey anyone they perceive as stronger than themselves, anyone they see as superior. For a beast, the most important thing is the ability to discern how strong others are. You studied that, right? Beasts that live in packs or herds measure each other’s strength and decide who is stronger. The weak obey the strong. “In the world of beasts, strength and weakness are unforgiving measures that determine survival. A runt will not receive food from its mother. It will be kicked from the nest by its siblings and left to die. A weak male will never have the chance to mate and leave offspring in this world. The weak cannot protect their territory. “In a one-on-one relationship, it’s only natural for beasts to measure which one is the stronger.” Esalu pulled the Silent Whistle out of her robe and shook it in front of Elin. “You hate this, I know. But the Royal Beasts are far superior to us in strength. This is the only thing that can convince them of our superiority, despite our physical weakness.” She threw the whistle on top of Elin’s chest. “If you see yourself as Leelan’s mother, then train her. While she is still young, drill into her the fact that you are superior, so that she learns to obey you without question … If you don’t, when she grows up, there will inevitably come a time when you can no longer control her.” Esalu’s eyes had a cold glint that would tolerate no argument. “The feeling that all creatures share in common is not love. It’s fear, Elin. Engrave that on your bones. If you continue to dream and nurture this illusion in your heart, your eyes will lose the ability to see the truth. Those wounds are a good lesson. Decide right now to abandon that dream. Be objective and logical, and learn to keep a proper distance, to take a stand.” Elin slid her hand out from under the covers and grasped the Silent Whistle. She stared at it for a while, but then held it out. Esalu looked at her silently, and Elin returned her gaze. Finally, Esalu said in an exasperated tone, “Write your will then. Write that if you die, it was your own fault—that it was due to your own stupidity. Say that the headmistress is not to blame for your mistake. Write it and give it to me when you’re done.” And with those words, she left the room, an angry scowl still on her face. Esalu might just have been venting her frustration, but when Elin was able to get out of bed, she really did write a will. She did not address it to anyone in particular. She merely wanted to record her feelings, because if she were to keep getting close to the Royal Beast, she might lose her life at any time. When she recalled the moment Leelan’s fangs had sliced her ear and shoulder, her stomach knotted. If they had touched her neck or midriff … She did not need Esalu to warn her. She was terrified to the core. For the first time in her life, she was afraid of Leelan. Yet she still could not bring herself to use the Silent Whistle to “train” the cub. As she wrote her will, she remembered Joeun’s warning. “Listen. There is a big difference between people and animals. Don’t ever forget that. Totchi is a gentle mare. She’s used to you and to me. She’s like family. But if a wasp stung her and she was startled by the pain, she could kill you with one blow of her hoof. A person stung by a wasp would go crazy with pain, too, but they would never kill their friend because of it. A horse can’t make that distinction.” It was true. There was a huge gap between beasts and humans. She had a bad habit of taking that gap too lightly, such as the time she had killed a honeybee by trying to stroke it. These wounds were a warning stamped on her body so that she could never forget. Still, she did not think that Esalu was right. Fear could not be the only emotion that living creatures shared in common. The feeling that she sensed Leelan had for her was far warmer than that. How could she use the Silent Whistle if she wished to teach Leelan that violence was wrong? Using the whistle would be like beating her with a whip, and she could not bear the thought of training her like that. Not wishing to give the will to Esalu in person, she put it in an envelope with the headmistress’s name on it and placed it in Esalu’s shoe cupboard. She did not know if Esalu had read it or not, for she never mentioned it, but she did not stop Elin from going to Leelan once her wounds were healed.
Chapter 5
68 min read