Chapter 6

SIX FLIGHT 1 QUICKENING ANXIETY By nature, Shunan was a light sleeper. And sleep did not come easily right now. His mind was busy with many thoughts, for he knew it might not be long before he must take his father’s place as Aluhan. For that reason, he had chosen to wander through the palace gardens tonight. Although he pitied the guards who must stay with him so late, he found his thinking was sharper when he paced back and forth gazing at the thin clouds veiling the moon. For the last few years, two concerns in particular had occupied his mind. One was the movement of the Lahza, the horse riders who were spreading across the eastern plains, swallowing up the many tribes that lived there. In the past, they had been just one small tribe among many, but now they had amassed more than a hundred tribes and were building a formidable nation. Their frequent raids along the eastern border of Lyoza were proof that they had ambitions regarding this land. Up to now, the Toda Warriors had repelled them every time. But the Toda were few in number. With incursions so frequent, the Aluhan could not rely on Toda troops alone, and recently he had begun recruiting large numbers of soldiers from the common people. This only increased the commoners’ discontent. And that was Shunan’s second concern. His people shed their blood to protect this land, yet instead of the respect that they deserved, they were viewed by the Holon with fear and contempt, and were suspected of plotting to kill the Yojeh. Why are we the only ones to lay down our lives in defense of the kingdom? This was the doubt that festered in his people’s minds, and it was turning slowly into discontent and a deep-rooted bitterness. That’s what is breeding assassins in our midst, yet every attempt on the Yojeh’s life increases the Holon’s fear and hatred for us … The longer this goes on, the more entrenched this vicious cycle will become. If we don’t break free of it, there will be no future for our country. But to choose the wrong way to do so would cut even more deeply into the fabric of the nation. No matter what, they must avoid acting hastily. Shunan’s father, however, suffered from an old illness that was growing steadily worse, and Shunan feared that he would force himself to take action before he had resolved the doubts in his mind. He knew full well that if his father should commit the act of brutality he was contemplating, it would not be from self-interest, but rather to protect the future of his sons. But the method he was considering would be a colossal mistake. The problem was the shape their country should take. He and his father were both in agreement on the ultimate goal. What they did not agree on was how to get there. Shunan was sure that his father’s approach would not bring about a better future. He claims that the Yojeh’s authority is all froth and no substance, but he doesn’t realize that the structure of that power is laid deep within his own mind. And that is why coercion and force were the only solutions his father could see. If he knew what Shunan was thinking, his eyes would pop out of his head, and he would undoubtedly declare it impossible. He would have good reason, too. Anyone would agree, whether they were Holon or Wajak. His brother Nugan, who believed that the true way of the Aluhan was to swear fealty to the Yojeh and accept defilement on her behalf, would blaze with anger and denounce his idea as a desecration. But this country will only be reborn when we succeed in destroying the invisible yet rigid power structure embedded in people’s minds. Shunan was aware that his people trusted him, and he believed that he could do what it took to fulfill that trust. But if Lahza became a powerful kingdom, it would no longer be possible for the Aluhan’s people alone to defend this country. Should that day come, their survival would depend upon their ability to unite their two territories. He came to a halt at the edge of the pond and looked up at the moon. There is only one way to bind our two peoples together. But how was he to share this feeling, to communicate his thoughts to her? His mind had been focused on this problem for some time. Once and only once, he had summoned the courage to convey to her what he was thinking. Her response had been curt—a natural reaction. But if he failed to change her concept of “natural,” there could be no future for this country. To communicate with her would be dangerous, like walking a tightrope, but it would have to be done. While Shunan was gazing up at the moon in the palace garden, Ialu was lurking in a back alley in the capital. Ever since the attempted assassination on the Yojeh’s birthday four years earlier, he had been following a hunch. No one knew the true nature of the Sai Gamulu. Had the assassin really been a member, or was someone using its existence as a cover for their own assassination plot? If his suspicion proved to be right, it would mean that someone was trying to kill the Yojeh for a very different reason than the Sai Gamulu. He tensed as he felt someone approaching. A dark figure emerged far down the street and moved toward him. As soon as he saw the outline of the person’s face by the faint light of the moon, the tension drained from him. It was one of his trusted men who was helping with the investigation. The man bowed slightly. “How did it go? Did you find anything?” He nodded. “It may not be directly related to the same incident, but I uncovered something disturbing as I was checking up on the merchants he deals with.” The demand for wild Toda eggs had risen dramatically over the last few years due to frequent skirmishes with the horse riders of Lahza, and many men had begun collecting the lucrative eggs, despite the risks involved. Most people in this trade were Wajak, not only because Toda were considered unclean, but also because they were bought by the Aluhan. Recently, however, some Holon had become involved. Wild Toda lived in the remote mountain rivers and swamps of Yojeh territory as well, so it was no surprise that people would be drawn by the promise of high profits. But to sell the eggs, they needed a connection with the Toda traders of Aluhan territory. According to Ialu’s subordinate, one merchant who served as a middleman had dealings with the person he suspected. “Toda…” Ialu whispered. The man in question ought to have no relation to Toda at all. If he were indeed trying to gather fighting serpents, then Ialu could perceive a dreadful possibility. “Thank you. You did well. I’m impressed that you were able to find out that much in such a short time. Please keep your eye on that merchant. See if he is not only selling eggs but is involved in raising them somewhere as well.” Whenever her maidservant Nami brought some of her mother’s baking, Seimiya’s heart beat faster, as if she had just run a race. As the official taster who protected the Yojeh’s only granddaughter from poisoning, Nami was highly trusted, and no one thought of inspecting the food she brought. But once, a letter had been hidden within one of her baked goods. When she had given it to Seimiya, Nami had been prepared to die. She had waited until they were alone and then, her face deathly pale, she had presented it to Seimiya and told her that during her holiday the Aluhan’s eldest son had come to her alone one night. With a grave expression, he had told her his vision of how the Yojeh could be saved from assassination and the nation spared from division. With trembling lips, she had said, “Lord Shunan told me that he intended to kill me if I objected. But although I am not wise, I think his idea is the best way to save the Yojeh. I know that if others heard what he suggested, they would be furious. But for me, the only thing that matters is your life and the life of the Yojeh.” A light had kindled in her eyes as she gazed at Seimiya. “You have the Se Zan to protect you, but in the end they are only human. There is no guarantee that they will be able to stop every assassin that comes. I … I am afraid. I’m afraid that one day, both of you…” Seimiya, her face bloodless, had grasped the girl’s trembling arms. “That’s enough, Nami. I understand.… But the road he proposes is unthinkable. He must know that. So why did he even suggest it?” The blood that ran in her veins was not that of ordinary people. It was sacred, inherited in a direct and unbroken line from her ancestor, who had been born in the land of the gods far beyond the Afon Noah. It was this that made the Yojeh the soul of the nation. The most important duty of a woman born to that line was to protect its sacredness. That was why they often married an uncle or a cousin. If the women in the Yojeh’s line married men without that ancestry, even members of the nobility, the sacredness of that blood would be watered down. She could not help being attracted to Shunan. If only I had been born a noblewoman instead … What joy she would have felt to receive this letter had that been the case. She had bitten her lip at this thought. She hated to give in to self-pity, no matter how small. Looking sternly at Nami, she had said, “I understand why you did this. But you must never again bring me such a letter. Were anyone to find out, it would indeed divide this country, so make sure that you never mention it to anyone.” “Yes, my lady,” Nami had replied anxiously. In the four years since that time, there had never been another letter, but whenever Nami brought her mother’s baking, Seimiya could not help but remember Shunan’s proposal. Nami was just pouring tea into a fine china cup when she heard the voice of a young Se Zan outside the door. “Lord Damiya is here. Shall I let him in?” Seimiya raised her head and nodded. Nami opened the door, and Damiya walked in bearing a large box. He must have just returned from outside, for he was cloaked with the smell of wind—a scent that raised Seimiya’s spirits. Whenever she saw her uncle, he reminded her of a fresh breeze blowing through a stuffy room—bright and bracing, but with a hint of danger, as if he might carry her off to some forbidden place. “My dear Seimiya, how are you today?” He smiled and made to place the box on the table. Nami hastily pushed the tea and sweets to one side, and he nodded to her before gently putting it down. “What have you brought me, Uncle? Knowing you, it’s bound to be something strange.” Damiya looked at her in mock offense. “Strange? Now when have I ever given you something strange? Here, take a look.” He lifted the lid and gestured toward the box. Seimiya gasped. Inside lay a perfect replica of the palace, along with the gardens and the forest surrounding it. Surely this must be what it would look like from the sky. The model was so exquisite, she could hardly believe it was man-made, but she gave him a playful glare. “Dear uncle, you’re still bringing me toys, as if I were a mere child.” Damiya reached out a hand and caressed her cheek. His touch was so gentle, it was as if a wing had brushed her face. “If I thought you were a child, I certainly wouldn’t bring you something like this. Only a grown woman could appreciate such fine craftsmanship. You know perfectly well how much talent has gone into this, don’t you?” Seimiya cast down her eyes, her heart beating quickly. She strove to keep her voice calm so that he would not know how his touch had unsettled her. “Of course, I do.” He took her hand gently in his and placed her fingers on the tips of the wooden trees. They tickled like the hairs on a calligraphy brush, and she tensed. “It’s amazing, don’t you think? See how soft they are. If the gods reached out to touch the trees in the forest, I bet they’d feel just like this.” Seimiya endured the tickling in her fingertips as she listened to his voice. Four years had passed since the autumn Elin had first arrived at Kazalumu School. Every fall, the trees hedging the highlands turned bright gold in a blaze of color against the distant snow-topped ridges of the Onolu Mountains. The sight always took her breath away. But autumn did not linger in the highlands. It sped away, followed by the cruel winter. The snow-laden wind that blew from the northwest collided against the mountains, dumping heavy snow on the north face. Fortunately, this meant that not much snow fell on the highlands, which were on the southeast side. But the chill of the wind, freed from its burden and whistling lightly down from the mountains, penetrated to the bone. By the winter solstice, snow fell even in Kazalumu, fluttering down to cover the meadow, the stables, and the school in a thin white blanket. While Royal Beasts did not like rain or thunder, they were impervious to the cold. Regardless of whether the meadow was covered in snow, as long as it was sunny, they went outside, their breath frosting the air. Leelan had matured into a full-fledged, well-proportioned Royal Beast. But what everyone admired most was her fur. Tomura, who was now a teacher, was fond of remarking to his colleagues that even the coats on the Beasts at the Lazalu Sanctuary could not compare in beauty to hers. He need not have bothered, as they were already staunch admirers. One day, Esalu stood watching Elin with Leelan. She remembered Elin telling her that the fur of wild Beasts seemed to change color depending on the light. True to those words, Leelan’s fur shone golden at sunset and silver in the morning. But what caused this difference? Several things came to mind, but two of these seemed particularly significant. Since Elin had begun to care for her, Leelan had never been immobilized by the Silent Whistle, even though it was used regularly on the other Beasts, nor had she drunk any tokujisui. If those are the differences that cause her fur to shine like that … why on earth would the Canon dictate that we care for Beasts in a way that dulls their fur? For many years, Esalu had wondered if there wasn’t some hidden purpose behind the Royal Beast Canon. I wonder if the warning which that man gave me has something to do with this. Once, long ago, while searching for Royal Beasts deep in the mountains, she had met a tall stranger, an incident which she had never mentioned to anyone. When she had first learned that Elin had seen Beasts in the wild, she had feared that she might have some connection with him. Having observed her for the last four years, however, Esalu had discarded that suspicion and was now convinced that, just as Joeun had said, Elin knew nothing of the vows the Ahlyo kept, even though she was of Ahlyo blood. If she had been bound by those vows, she would never have deviated from the Canon. The encounter remained clear in her memory—the tall man’s cold green eyes and his robe that was as gray as the mist, the dim light among the trees that had surrounded them, the smell of damp moss. When he had learned that she was a teacher at the Royal Beast Sanctuary, he had warned her, “You must stop looking for Beasts in the wild. From the moment a Beast falls into the hands of men, it is bound by Aoh, the Law. Without Aoh, Beasts are dangerous. You, and those like you, whose duty is to bind them to the Law, must not see them in the wild.” When Esalu had asked him why, he had answered coldly. “You are an intelligent and enthusiastic scholar who raises the Yojeh’s Beasts. To see them in the wild would kindle a flame in your heart that could trigger the most fearsome calamity. I’m sure you find that hard to believe, but I know what you do not. I beg of you, please heed my warning. Do you wish to cause a disaster for which you would never forgive yourself?” She had not wanted to bow to an Ahlyo prophesy that made no sense, but the cold fear that had gripped her was still firmly rooted in her mind. She had felt as though the Ahlyo were always watching her, and so had not gone hunting wild Beasts again. What could be so dangerous about seeing Royal Beasts in the wild? she had wondered. What was the Law meant to protect, and how was that connected to the Beasts? It had made her angry to think that those who dedicated their lives to caring for the Royal Beasts were not allowed to know. The idea that people would keep others ignorant in order to protect something was abhorrent. Sound judgment could only be made once one knew all the facts. To conceal them would prevent people from making an informed decision. Who is trying to keep us ignorant? She did not think that the wandering Ahlyo had that kind of power. And besides, the Canon was supposed to have been written by the first Yojeh. Could it be the Yojeh? For years, she had had no way of finding out, but then Elin had come along. In her naivety and ignorance of the Law and the Canon, she had burst through the rules with ease. At times, the sight of her with Leelan filled Esalu with foreboding. Will something terrible happen if we continue raising Leelan like a Beast in the wild? Leelan already stood out from the other Beasts in the sanctuary. If she continued to mature like this, would it cause some disaster? The Ahlyo had tried to stop Esalu from even seeing wild Beasts. What had he feared? Esalu was aware that part of her wanted to learn what that danger was, and that this was one reason she had given Elin free rein. At the same time, however, she was afraid to put Elin at risk just to satisfy her own curiosity. Perhaps she should tell her everything. Even if she did, Elin was unlikely to change how she cared for Leelan because of what the Ahlyo had said. After all, this was the girl who had written her will so that she could stay with Leelan. Still, she could not bring herself to reveal to Elin that it was the Ahlyo’s warning she had feared all these years. Leelan spread her wings, and Elin’s slender figure seemed suddenly even smaller. Esalu stood and stared for a long time at the girl as she reached up, without the least trace of fear, to stroke the Beast’s chest. 2 FLIGHT When the New Year’s break came and Kazalumu was once again deserted, Elin breathed a sigh of relief. During the last four years, a disturbing idea had been germinating in her mind. Most people would probably have dismissed it as nonsense; but those who did not might be alarmed. She did not even feel comfortable sharing it with Yuyan. As Elin had come to know Leelan better, there were times when the Beast’s intelligence amazed her. In certain ways, Royal Beasts were very like humans. She did her best to prevent others from noticing these things, but by spring of her first year, Leelan could understand almost everything Elin said. She had not only mastered the “words” that Elin had created from variations of lon, the Beasts’ harp-like cry, but she also used them to convey what she wanted. The first “sentence” she had communicated had been very simple—“back,” “itchy,” “scratch.” Elin, however, had been stunned. What she had just heard seemed impossible. She had taught Leelan sounds for different parts of the body, such as back, head, shoulder, and feet. She had also taught her sounds for “hurt” and “itchy,” and for “touch” and “scratch.” But she had never shown her how to put those sounds together to make a sentence. Instead of merely mimicking Elin, she had combined sounds on her own to convey where she itched and what she wanted done about it. Elin knew that dogs and horses could understand some words and convey what they wanted to some extent, but only through sounds they already used, such as barks or whinnies, along with body movements and facial expressions. They did not use a language composed of arbitrarily combined sounds. Leelan, however, not only used the “words” that she had been taught, but had figured out how to combine these to convey a complex wish. She had grasped the sounds and the semantic rules that Elin had created and had used them to produce language. In no time at all, the two were communicating quite naturally—Elin speaking to Leelan in human speech, and Leelan responding with harp-like cries … There were times when Elin felt that she had opened a forbidden door. Honeybees built hives, marvelous structures that humans could never hope to imitate. In the same way, all wild creatures used innate, yet astounding, capacities to build the environment in which they lived. But she could not help thinking that what Leelan had done surpassed the bounds of nature. Or could it be that Royal Beasts in the wild also modulated their cries to make conversation? If so, then they were much closer to humans in their thought processes than anyone had believed. And if that were the case, then why had no one ever had a conversation with one, despite the fact that Beasts had been raised in captivity for several centuries? This point struck Elin as very unnatural. When she had first noticed Leelan’s ability, she had reread the Royal Beast Canon. The first Yojeh must have known what Royal Beasts could do when she had written these rules, and it was then that the idea came to Elin: Did the Yojeh deliberately design the Canon so that no one would ever communicate with the Beasts? Elin’s heart had grown cold at the thought. If that was her intention, then I may be making a terrible mistake … She did not know why it would be taboo for people to speak with Royal Beasts. But if the hidden purpose of the Canon was to prevent this, what would happen if the Yojeh or those around her discovered what she was doing? What if not just Elin but Esalu and everyone else at the school got into trouble? This was her greatest fear, and the reason she was so careful to conceal the fact that she and Leelan could communicate. When anyone else was around, she hardly spoke to Leelan at all. The harp was a bit safer because no one else could understand, but even then she tried to use it when no one was there, limiting any conversations with Leelan to times when they were far from the school, such as when they were in the shadow of the forest or at the river. She had to be discreet, however, because people like Professor Losa might get nosy if she seemed to be keeping Leelan out of the way. For this reason, she felt a tremendous load lift from her shoulders whenever there was a holiday. Leelan wanted to go out every day. “I’m not like you. For me, snow is cold,” Elin grumbled, but Leelan ignored her. She hopped lightly on her hind feet, moving with ease across the snowy fields. Her favorite spot was the ravine through which the river flowed. She could spend most of the day perched on a crag just listening to the water murmuring. But the cold bit through Elin’s leather boots and fur-lined coat, freezing her to the bone, and her feet sank in the powdery snow, making it a struggle just to walk. She had to stop frequently and stretch the kinks out of her back. Leelan could have raced ahead, but she always stopped, waiting patiently like a mother for her child. This made Elin wonder when Royal Beasts normally left the nest. Leelan looked and sounded far more like the wild Beasts than those at the sanctuary, and she appeared to be full grown. Yet she still could not fly, nor did she show any sign of wanting independence or of going into heat. When did wild Beasts reach maturity and set off to stake out their own territory? Did being raised by humans delay growing up? When I graduate … Elin’s dream was to study Royal Beasts in the wild and compare their behavior with those at the sanctuary. To do that and remain in charge of Leelan, however, she would have to win the right to stay at the school by placing first in the Graduation Trials. Yuyan assured her that even if she did not place first, she would still be able to stay, precisely because of Leelan, but Elin did not want special treatment. She did not want to owe anything to anyone. These were the thoughts in her mind as she tramped through the snowy meadow. The land began to slope gently downward, and the forest came into view. The custodians kept the trees well trimmed to make it easy for the Royal Beasts to pass through it. Unlike the deciduous forest bordering the southeast edge of the highland, the wood here on the northern edge was filled with dark green conifers, which kept the ground virtually bare of snow. The wind dropped when they entered the trees, and the air felt warmer. Except for the occasional thud of snow sliding from a branch, not a sound could be heard, not even birds calling. Inhaling the tangy scent of the forest, Elin followed Leelan to the ravine, where a steep cliff overlooked the river below. In summer, they could climb down, but in winter, the icy snow clinging to the rocks made it far too dangerous. Leelan’s favorite place was a ledge that jutted out over the ravine. Exposure to the sun kept it free of snow, and a rock outcrop sheltered it from the wind. When Leelan perched on the ledge, Elin nestled like an egg between her legs to warm herself. She was sure that Esalu would have a fit if she saw them like this, but Leelan had learned a lot and now knew that Elin could be easily harmed. Once she was warm again, Elin pulled a book from her cloak and began to read. Leelan’s chest rumbled like a bellows as she rested in the sunshine, looking blissfully content. “That, good.” Elin raised her head at the sound of Leelan’s voice. “What’s good?” “That.” Elin turned her eyes to follow the Beast’s gaze and saw a single bird floating in the air. It did look nice and plump. “You’re right. It’s probably very tasty. But you can’t catch it.” “Why?” “Because it’s flying.” Leelan made a cooing sound in her throat. “Fly?” Elin put her book away and stood up. Spreading her arms, she waved them up and down, mimicking flight. Leelan spread her wings and flapped them, but nothing happened. “Back, neck, itchy. Scratch.” Elin sighed. “The back of your neck? I can’t reach. Bend down, will you?” Leelan crouched and bent over. “I’m going to climb up, so don’t move, all right? Even if it hurts, don’t shake me off.” Leelan was three times taller than her, which made Elin feel like a tiny bug whenever she climbed onto her back. She gripped Leelan’s fur to hoist herself up. “Where? Here?” She noticed a spot on Leelan’s neck where the fur was ruffled. She began to scratch it, and Leelan purred ecstatically. Suddenly, Elin lurched. For an instant, she thought Leelan had moved, but then she knew what it was. Earthquake! The trees whipped back and forth, and snow cascaded from their branches. She could hear the rock ledge groan beneath their feet. Never had she felt such a strong quake before. Leelan gripped the ledge with her claws and spread her wings as she struggled to stay upright. Elin closed her eyes and clung desperately to her neck. With a terrible sound, the ledge beneath them snapped, then crumbled, and Leelan, whether through quick thinking or pure instinct, kicked the ledge with her feet and beat her great wings. Elin felt her body rise, and a blast of wind tore at her hair. Beneath her, she could feel Leelan’s powerful muscles moving rhythmically. The wind on her face was so strong that she could barely open her eyes, and even when she did, all she could see was sky. We can’t be … Gripping Leelan’s neck tighter, she shifted slightly so that she could look down. The sight made her gasp. We’re flying!… We’re flying through the sky! The river looked like a narrow ribbon. The snow-covered woods and fields, brilliant in the sunlight, extended far into the distance. Elin could feel Leelan’s joy as she thrust through the air on her great wings. She moved as if she could see the wind and the layers in the atmosphere, as if she knew instinctively which currents to use and which to avoid. “Happy, happy, happy…” she crooned as she soared through the heavens. It was all Elin could do to hang on. Wind roared past her ears. She could not bear to look down, and the knowledge that there was no earth beneath their feet made her tremble. She forced the thought from her mind. She could hardly breathe, but when she raised her head for air, the wind hit her so hard she almost let go. Hastily, she buried her face in Leelan’s neck. This offered some relief, as the force of the wind now pushed her against Leelan’s back, but there was nothing she could do to alleviate the cold. Icy air flowed across her, her hands grew numb, her teeth chattered, and tears welled in her eyes, which were screwed shut. “Leelan … Leelan!” She screamed. “Down! Leelan, please! I’m cold!” Leelan, drunk with elation, did not respond at first. Only after Elin had shouted repeatedly did she begin slowly to descend. Wings widespread, she glided down onto the snow-covered meadow. The impact as Leelan’s feet hit the ground was painfully jarring. Somehow Elin managed to disentangle her frozen fingers from Leelan’s fur and slide off her back. Unable to move, she lay huddled on the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Leelan whimpered anxiously, peering at her, then gently lowered herself on top of her, like a mother Beast warming its young. Even when the Beast’s warmth had seeped through her body, Elin could not stop shivering, and her hands shook as she pressed them against her mouth. When her trembling finally ceased, all strength seemed to have been leached from her body, and she lay curled fetus-like beneath Leelan’s soft, warm belly for a long time. At last, she crawled out, but remained crouched in the snow, eyes blank, oblivious to Leelan’s cries. It was only when she slowly raised her head and saw Leelan’s face that emotion returned. “Happy, happy, happy.” Leelan’s eyes were shining, and Elin could see that she was bursting with joy. A grin spread across her face. “You flew…” Her eyes burned with the tears that trickled down her cheeks. “Flew! Flew!” Leelan cried, her head raised to the sky, but then she stopped abruptly and stared toward the forest. “What’s wrong?” Leelan’s hackles rose, and she made a rumbling noise in her chest that Elin had never heard before. What could be the problem? Elin followed her gaze. At first, she could see nothing. Then, squinting her eyes, she realized that what she had taken for the shadow of a tree was actually a man. She leapt to her feet. Tall, dressed in gray, he stood beneath the trees watching them. Perhaps because she had seen him, he began to walk slowly toward them. Snarling, her fur standing on end, Leelan moved in front of Elin, as if to protect her, but the man showed no sign of fear as he approached. His eyes were invisible beneath the gray hood. Taking something from his cloak, he brought it to his mouth. Elin started. “No!” she cried, just as he blew the Silent Whistle. Leelan’s snarls ceased, and she stood frozen in place, her fangs bared and wings slightly raised. The man walked past her as though she were merely a statue and stood before Elin. Now she could see his face clearly. He looked to be in his mid-forties. Within the shadow of his hood, his green eyes shone coldly. “There’s no mistake. You must be Sohyon’s daughter. You look so like her.” Elin stared at him blankly. “We need to talk. Come into the forest where the trees are denser. The Beast can’t follow us there.” 3 THE SIN OF THE AHLYO As she followed him, Elin had the strange feeling that she was walking in a familiar dream. He belonged to the Ahlyo, her mother’s people, and seemed to know her mother well. Perhaps he was kin … Her heart beat in her throat and her mind was spinning. She barely felt her feet touch the snow. The man strode ahead into the forest. When he was deep enough among the trees that they could not be seen from the meadow, he stopped and turned to her. Then he spoke. “This is your first time to see me, but I have been watching you from a distance for several years. You and the Beast.” Elin’s lips felt stiff as she spoke. “Watching … us?… But why? Who are you?” For the first time, she saw a flicker of expression in his eyes. “Even your voice is like Sohyon’s,” he whispered. He gestured for her to sit on a dry log and sat down beside her. “Your mother and I were of the same clan. You wouldn’t know because you weren’t raised among us, but each clan is divided into two kinship groups. She and I belonged to opposite groups, or Toh no Hara.” A sad smile touched his lips. “We choose our life partners from our clan’s Toh no Hara. Sohyon was to be my wife.” Elin stared at him, forgetting even to breathe. He smoothed the expression from his face, as if to rein in his emotions. “But it wasn’t because you are Sohyon’s daughter … I was watching you because, four years ago, a Spirit Beast warned us about you.” “A Spirit … Beast?” The man stared off into space. “Long ago, our ancestors committed a great sin in a far distant land beyond the Afon Noah. In their remorse, they placed a curse upon themselves so that their descendants would never make the same mistake. The curse was such that, when they died, their souls would not cross into the heaven of Afon Aluma, but would remain here as a Spirit Bird to warn us should anyone use the Handler’s Art. The Spirit Beast cannot speak to the people of this world, but the Spirit Bird can. It lives within the Spirit Beast and becomes its voice … It warned us that someone had used the Art to communicate with the Royal Beasts.” Elin imagined the spirits of her ancestors hovering in the snow-scented gloom of the frozen forest. She hugged her arms against her body. Had they been watching her the whole time? Were they still watching her even now? “At first we thought that Sohyon must have taught you the Art. You cannot imagine how shocked we were when we realized that you weren’t using the skills passed down among our people.” He gazed at her face. “Along with the Law, we are drilled in the Art from the time we are very young—so that it will never be used again, so that our people will never forget the past and rediscover it. Yet you developed it on your own.” His voice was hoarse. “We do not possess the kind of magic that we are rumored to have. All we have are the skills passed down by our ancestors from a land that once flourished beyond the Afon Noah. We have no special powers at all. Yet you, without any knowledge of those skills, developed the Art from nothing.” He placed a hand over his face. “Our despair was deep. How, we wondered, could someone acquire this ability naturally? Is it impossible to prevent disaster even by sealing away our ancient skills? Is this how someone sets off down the path to destruction—without even realizing that she is doing so?” Elin stared at her fingers. White and trembling, they seemed to belong to someone else. Clearly, by “Handler’s Art,” he meant her ability to communicate with Leelan. He thinks that what I’ve done is wrong. Is it really so terrible as to cause my mother’s people despair? Why do they think it’s a sin? Deep inside, she heard her mother’s voice, the words she had spoken just before she had used the finger flute to control the Toda. “Elin, you must never do what I am going to do now. To do so is to commit a mortal sin.” Now, with a sudden flash of understanding, she realized what her mother had meant. She was speaking to the Toda with her finger flute. And she was warning me that to do so is a crime … A pain stabbed her heart. To communicate with the Beasts, to tell them what she wanted and direct their actions: Her mother’s people called this the Handler’s Art—and they considered it a mortal sin. “Why?” Elin whispered. “Why is it a sin to speak with the Royal Beasts?” The man did not answer immediately. He rubbed his face with a rough and bony hand as if searching for words. Finally he sighed and said, “Even if I told you, it would sound too simple. How can I possibly convey to you the true horror when you have never seen the other side of the Afon Noah? You would never believe that speaking with the Beasts could have such terrible consequences.” He raised his eyes and looked at her. “But, still, I must try … When I saw the Beast fly today, I knew that I had no choice. “I should probably kill you and the Beast now to avert future disaster. Our people have vowed, however, never to take a life for any reason except for food. All we can do is to share what we know and pray that you will make the right decision…” He gripped his knees. “Daughter of Sohyon, I beg you to listen carefully to my words. And then I implore you never to let that Royal Beast fly again. Return it to the shelter of the Law. This is the wish of your mother’s people. We beg you to understand, and pray, with body and soul, that you will make the right choice.” Then he began his tale. When he finally finished, he stood up and walked off into the forest. For a long time, Elin sat on the log as if stunned. The story he had told her was indeed horrific. But just as he had warned her, it sounded like something that had happened long ago. Although she now knew what had happened in the past when people had manipulated Royal Beasts and Toda, she could not see how her conversations with Leelan, or for that matter how her mother whistling to the Toda just once, could cause such a disaster. Surely there would need to be a complex combination of factors to cause something like that. Had the Ahlyo blown the episode out of proportion because following the Law was the very reason for their existence? Elin buried her face in her hands. Mother, did you believe your action was a mortal sin and try to pay for it with your life? Was that why you threw away the chance of a future with me? She had no memory of when she stood up or how she left the forest. When the bright, snow-cloaked meadow came into view, she heard a keening wail rend the air, and sound came rushing back. She dashed out of the trees into the meadow. Leelan, wings spread wide, was stamping her feet and crying in anguish. Running over, Elin hugged her and, burying her face in her warm, glossy fur, burst into tears. How could it be a crime to speak with Leelan? Why was it wrong for Leelan to soar through the heavens? How could something that brought such joy possibly be a sin? Elin felt Leelan’s warmth against her cheek, and her heart cried out. I won’t stop Leelan from flying. No matter what they say, I refuse to bind her with the Law. “She what? Leelan flew?” Esalu’s brows shot up as she listened to Elin’s stumbling account of what had happened. “Yes. During the earthquake, the ledge we were on crumbled and…” Esalu stared at her openmouthed. “Well. Who would’ve guessed…” she whispered, absently running a hand through her graying locks. Then her expression sobered. “It’s unheard of for a Beast in captivity to fly. Absolutely amazing. But we’re going to have to make sure she doesn’t escape from the meadow.” “I know. I was worrying about that, too. I don’t think she would actually try to run away. And even if she left the meadow, she’d come back. But if she happened to have some kind of accident while she was gone … Just the thought makes me shudder.” “You’re right there, Elin. We have to be prepared for every possibility. Because she’s a Royal Beast.” Esalu pressed her fingers against her forehead and thought. After a long moment, she raised her eyes and looked at Elin. “You said you rode on her back, didn’t you?” “Yes.” “In that case, maybe you should start flight training.” “What?” Elin blurted out. “Flight training?” “Yes. Train her not to fly unless you are on her back. Teach her that even if she flies, she must come back here. Drill it into her body and mind so that it becomes a habit.” Esalu laughed at Elin’s stunned expression. “You’re lucky it’s the holidays. Make sure she’s trained before the other students come back.” “Er … Headmistress Esalu … it was actually … quite terrifying to ride on Leelan’s back when she was flying.” Esalu raised her brows again. “Well, I certainly never expected to hear you say that you were afraid of anything.” Then she grinned. “I’m just teasing. Of course, we’ll have to figure out a way to make it safe. Perhaps we can make some kind of leather harness, like a saddle on a horse. I’ll talk to the custodians and get their help.” She seemed to be struggling to keep her features calm and impassive, but a gleam of excitement shone in her eyes. Elin grinned at the sight, and elation spread through her. The heaviness that had filled her heart since meeting the Ahlyo finally evaporated. Esalu liked to put her ideas into action immediately. She marched Elin off to the custodians’ office to explain what they needed, and found the men relaxing around the hearth. After listening to Esalu’s rapid-fire explanation, they looked at one another. “What should we make?” one of them asked. The chief rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. A darkly tanned man well on in years, he was popular with the students for the clever toys he made in his spare time. “Ain’t no time to make nothin’ from scratch,” he said. “If the girl’s gonna train the Beast before the others get back, we’ve gotta use somethin’ ready on hand. We could try a saddle, but most are made for horses, not the back of a Beast … I’m thinkin’ we might wanna try a quilt saddle.” “Ah…” Understanding lit the faces of the others. Such saddles were common in areas with harsh winters. Made of a large piece of cowhide that wrapped around the horse’s flanks and was secured with a strap under the belly, they resembled a quilt, which was where the name came from. “That’d be easier to fit on the back of a Royal Beast. We just need longer cinch straps to fasten it with. We’ll need to figure out how to attach reins to the cinch, too, though the Beast might not fancy that. It won’t do for the girl to fall off, either, so let’s try fixin’ metal rings to her belt and the saddle to hold a good strong lifeline. That’ll make it easy to fasten and unfasten.” The gleam in his eyes made it clear that he loved his craft. “Now who’d have thought that one day we’d be makin’ a saddle for a Royal Beast?” The result was a very sturdy and well-crafted saddle. The only drawback was its weight. While that would be no problem for Leelan, Elin was the only person who could approach her without using a Silent Whistle, and this meant that she would have to saddle the Beast by herself. “You sure you can hoist that thing?” The chief custodian’s brow furrowed at the sight of Elin balancing the saddle on one shoulder. “Yes, I’ll be fine.” In reality, she was doubting whether she would be able to lift it onto Leelan’s back, but there was no time to fix it. She would just have to make do. Leelan raised her head as Elin drew near and watched her with interest. “What?” she asked. Elin let her sniff the saddle until she was satisfied and then explained what it was for. She wondered if Leelan could understand the complex explanation, but when she told her to bend down so that she could put the saddle on her back, Leelan turned about and crouched down without question. It made Elin feel strange every time Leelan responded like this, but she shook her head to chase the thought away. Placing the saddle on her knees, she swung it up and spread it over Leelan’s back. Leelan craned her neck around at the sudden weight of it, and Elin ducked under her belly and fastened the two straps securely. “I’m going to climb up, so don’t move,” Elin said. She shimmied up Leelan’s back, settled herself onto the saddle, and thrust her toes into the stirrups. The chief custodian had fitted them perfectly to her feet. She felt much more secure sitting in a saddle. She grasped the end of the short lifeline and clipped it on to a metal ring on her own belt. Then she took the reins, which were attached to the cinch crossing Leelan’s chest, and wrapped them around each hand. “Fly!” she shouted. Before she had time to catch her breath, Leelan had kicked the earth beneath them and launched herself into the sky. Elin’s head whipped back, making her dizzy. The wind pressed against her chest and pushed her backward. Hastily, she pulled herself forward to nestle against Leelan’s back, just as she had done on their first flight. The wind roared in her ears and her hair tangled, but with the stirrups, reins, and lifeline, she felt very safe. Finding an updraft, Leelan spiraled higher and higher, then joyfully slipped into a glide. Elin’s heart froze when she looked down, and she found Leelan’s descent gut-wrenching, but the gooseflesh thrill of flying far outweighed her fear. Pressing her cheek against Leelan’s back, she smiled. She could hear the bellows-like sound of Leelan’s breathing and sense her ecstatic joy. Hands shielding their eyes, Esalu and the chief custodian stood for a long time watching the Royal Beast soar through the heavens with Elin on her back. 4 THE MALE BEAST When the snow covering the meadow had melted and birds once again darted through the air, a horse-drawn cart bearing a Royal Beast lumbered into the Kazalumu Sanctuary. “I’ve never heard of a mature Beast being captured in the wild before,” Yuyan said as she placed her hands on top of the railing and stretched over it to peer into the meadow. The students were all clustered at the fence, watching the custodians bring in a Beast paralyzed by the Silent Whistle. Elin was standing beside Yuyan. “The Hunters made a mistake,” Kashugan remarked casually. Recently, he seemed to be wherever Yuyan was. Whenever they were alone, Elin teased her, but Yuyan responded sagely that it was hard to be so popular. “They were trying to capture a cub in the nest. The parent came back and crashed into the cliff when they blew the Silent Whistle.” He gestured as he spoke, making it seem as if he had actually been there when it happened. Royal Beast Hunters were bound by strict rules that forbade them to kill a wild Beast under any circumstances. To have accidentally injured a mature one was shameful. They had retrieved the wounded Beast with the cub because they certainly could not leave it there. The wounded adult had been brought to Kazalumu while the cub was sent to the official sanctuary. “So the mother was protecting her cub … We’d better fix her up quick so she can get back to her little one.” “You’re wrong there, Yuyan. That’s the father.” “The father?” Yuyan’s eyebrows flew up. “I heard them say it’s a male.” Yuyan stared at Kashugan. “Where do you get that kind of information?” Kashugan laughed a little bashfully without answering. The Royal Beast had been transferred to a large cart built for Beasts. Even wounded and frozen, its beauty far surpassed that of the other Beasts in the sanctuary. On the night of the next day, Elin was summoned to Esalu’s office. When she walked in, the headmistress put her cup of tea down on the table and looked up. “Ah, Elin. Sorry to summon you so abruptly.” Elin shook her head. “Is there something I can do for you?” Esalu gestured for her to sit down. “You know a Royal Beast was brought here yesterday. We’re calling it Eku, meaning male, for sake of convenience. Anyway, every time the effects of the Silent Whistle wear off, he goes into a violent rage. At this rate, even if we treat his wounds, they’re just going to open up again.” “Ah…” Elin nodded, recalling what Leelan had once been like. Whenever she had woken after the Silent Whistle, she had gnawed furiously on her own fur. Just like Leelan, the new Beast, Eku, had been hurt when the Silent Whistle was used. Perhaps he associated the memory of the whistle with his injury and was reacting to it. “So I wondered,” Esalu said, adjusting her reading glasses, “if you’d like to try using your harp on Eku.” Elin frowned as the words of the Ahlyo flashed through her mind, but she pushed them away. “I don’t know if it will work, but I’ll try.” Seeing Esalu’s eyes gleam with the pure curiosity of the scholar, Elin felt her own heart begin to race. I wonder if a wild Beast will respond to the harp, too … As Elin approached the stable, a thudding sound jarred the pit of her stomach. Eku must be throwing himself against the wall. The harp was crooked under her arm, and she slipped it into her hand as she hurried inside. Frowning, the teachers stood looking through the bars at the raging Beast. When they saw Elin, their faces lit up with keen interest, and they stepped aside to let her through. Eku was in a miserable state. With his wings spread wide for balance and his broken leg dangling awkwardly, he hopped on his sound leg and hurled himself against the bars. With each impact, the bars groaned, and dust trickled down from the ceiling. “What do you think? Can you do it?” Esalu whispered. “I don’t know…” Elin answered in a low voice. “But I doubt that he’ll even listen to the harp right now. He’s too excited.” She looked at Esalu. “Give me one night. Let me stay here with him.” Esalu seemed to guess what she really wanted. “All right,” she said. “Listen, everyone, let’s leave this to Elin and go outside. If any of you feel the need to watch, you can, but to help Eku calm down, I think the fewer people in here the better. “Elin, what about the light? Shall I turn it out?” “Yes, please.” Esalu nodded and, blowing out the lantern, she ushered the teachers out the door. Even after they had left, Eku continued to storm about the cage. Elin sat with her back against the wall and watched. He was big. A whole head taller than Leelan perhaps. If he broke the bars, she would be torn to shreds in seconds … For the first time in a long while, she felt a lump of fear in her stomach. Motionless, she watched, waiting for the Beast’s anger to dissipate. Past midnight, Esalu slipped in quietly. Eku, most likely exhausted, was fast asleep and snoring faintly. Esalu sat down beside Elin and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. The two of them spent the rest of that long night cuddled in their blankets, nodding off occasionally. When day began to dawn, Elin took out her harp and started to pluck it quietly, mimicking the sounds that Leelan made when she was feeling content and lazy. The Beast opened his eyes and raised his head, looking surprised. Esalu opened her eyes, too, but she kept quiet. The Beast listened for some time, and then began to make a slightly higher pitched sound in his chest. Elin smiled. It was the sound that Leelan made when she came too close to another Beast in the meadow. Elin thought it indicated lack of hostility. Restraining her excitement, she plucked out the response repeatedly as she stood up slowly. The cooing of the Beast and the thrumming of her harp intersected and then resonated. The sound gradually faded, and the Beast no longer raised its hackles when she approached. She picked up a lump of meat containing a sedative and, opening the door, threw it inside. The Beast, which had been fasting ever since it was captured, devoured it in a single gulp. Elin helped set the bones in the sleeping Beast’s leg. “It’s broken in two places,” she murmured. “Yes. Thank goodness it’s a simple break. He should heal quickly.” Esalu worked deftly and, in no time, the leg was splinted and bound. By the time they left the stable, they could hear the breakfast gong. As they walked toward the school, Esalu asked, “What does that sound mean?” “You mean the one I played? I think that the Beasts use it to show they mean no harm. I’ve heard Leelan make that sound when she gets too close to other Beasts.” Esalu said thoughtfully, “That’s interesting, isn’t it? We’ve been taught that the Royal Beasts don’t live in packs, yet if they communicate like that, checking for the presence or absence of hostility, and allowing those that intend no harm to approach, they may have more interaction than we thought. They may even form a sort of pack, but one that’s spread out over a much wider territory.” Elin nodded. She had been mulling over this idea for quite some time. “Yes, I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’m not sure how to describe it, but Leelan often explains what she wants with quite a bit of detail. If Royal Beasts really are solitary, they shouldn’t need such sophisticated ways of communicating.” “Really? That’s fascinating … There’s so much we just don’t know about them. They’re like a blank sheet of paper. The more we observe them, the more we should be able to learn.” Elin felt a warm thrill course through her. It was true. The more she learned about them, the more she discovered new things, and if she could study them in the wild, she would be bound to learn even more. When the school came into sight beyond the forest, Esalu said, “Your harp communicated to that Beast, even though you were not imprinted on his mind from infancy.” “Yes. But that’s because it’s a very simple sound. Just like mimicking a greeting will communicate in a foreign language.” Esalu looked up at Elin. “Do you think that if I tried it, it would work for me, too?” “Yes, probably … If you had never used the Silent Whistle on Eku.” Esalu frowned. “Oh … right. I did use it. Do you think he remembers?” “Yes, Royal Beasts have excellent memories. I believe that they remember very clearly anyone who has used the whistle on them. “Still, thinking of Leelan, even if someone has used the Silent Whistle once or twice, how that person treats the Beast afterward might change the response.” “I see…” Esalu nodded and gazed at Elin. “It’s worth a try anyway. Would you teach me how to make those sounds?” Elin blinked. She had prepared herself for the day when she would be asked this question. But now that the time had come, she found that it was not easy. If she taught Esalu, sooner or later people would realize that anyone could communicate with the Beasts … and that might trigger a catastrophe. If the spirits of her ancestors were still watching her, would they tell the Ahlyo what she had done? Elin stood still. She could not refuse without explaining why. While she hesitated to tell her what she had learned from the Ahlyo, she could not bear the thought that Esalu might assume she wished to keep the skill to herself. And besides, Esalu had a right to know. If Elin was to continue using the Art to treat Royal Beasts like this, then she must consult her properly, at least this once. She turned to face her. “It would be easy for me to teach you, but before I do, there is something you need to know.” She was not sure where to start and, in the end, she took a long time in the telling, but Esalu listened without uttering a word. When she was finally through, Esalu sighed. “So that’s what he meant…” she murmured. She rubbed her hands over her face, as if she were scrubbing it. Then she looked up at the sky and said, as if to herself, “So that’s what he meant by a ‘catastrophe.’” She looked at Elin and smiled. “I met an Ahlyo once, too. Deep in the mountains…” “I see…” Understanding dawned in Elin’s face. “So that’s why you seemed suspicious of me when we first met.” Esalu’s smile deepened. “Yes. I should have told you much sooner, but I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. I’m sorry it took me so long, but now I’m glad I’ve told you.” She looked back at the Beast stable and said quietly, “Your fear may be justified … It may be better to keep the Handler’s Art to yourself. If people knew that anyone could use it, others would be sure to try and control the Royal Beasts.” Her eyes shifted back to Elin, and a look of concern crossed her face. “But when I think of you, it seems to me that that road could be very dangerous. There would be less risk to you if it were a skill that anyone could use.” Elin shook her head. “I would rather that the risk was mine alone. My mother’s people pleaded with me, yet I made the decision to ignore them, even though they were desperate. I just can’t bear to confine Leelan within the narrow cage of the Law to avoid some future catastrophe that might never happen. But if my actions might bring about such a disaster…” Her voice grew husky. “Then when it comes, I will not hesitate to lay down my life, if I believe that could avert it.” Esalu gazed at Elin’s bloodless face—the well-defined features held a stillness that seemed beyond her eighteen years. She reached out and gently touched her hand. It was trembling slightly, and she gripped it firmly. “All right. I respect your commitment. But we must be careful not to let others know that you can use the Art.” Elin felt the warmth of Esalu’s dry hand against her own. Her throat constricted, making it impossible to speak. She gazed at Esalu, noting that her hair was peppered with gray these days, and bowed deeply. 5 FLIGHT OF TWO BEASTS Eku recovered quickly and, within half a month, was completely healed. The teachers involved in his care could not hide their astonishment. Elin always accompanied them when they treated him, calming him with her harp so that she could feed him a sedative concealed in a lump of meat. It was her idea to use a slow-acting sedative rather than one that put him to sleep right away, and he ate eagerly, unaware that the meat had anything to do with him falling asleep. Whenever Elin went to Leelan’s stable after assisting with Eku’s treatment, Leelan seemed very interested in her. She sniffed her intently until she was satisfied, and then turned away with a contented expression. Elin also noticed that the fur on Leelan’s chest was taking on a pinkish hue. When she asked Esalu about it, however, Esalu said that she had never seen this in any other Beast. Once sure that Eku was completely healed, the teachers decided to let him out into the meadow. He had only been brought here for healing, not as a gift to the Yojeh. Now that there was no longer any worry that he might die, they could free him. “Besides, he eats almost twice as much as the other Beasts,” Yassa remarked, voicing what they all felt. Kazalumu Sanctuary had a hard enough time making ends meet. It could not afford to feed a Royal Beast that received no funds for its care from the Yojeh. Elin was standing beside Leelan when they opened the stable door to let Eku out. It was a warm spring day, and the morning dew sparkled whenever the sun poked its face from between the thin stream of clouds. Eku appeared in the doorway and hopped out into the meadow, squinting as if to accustom himself to the light. He spread his wings wide, raised his head, and sniffed the air. At that moment, Leelan, too, raised her wings and sniffed. Elin looked up at her in surprise, and then around at the other Beasts in the meadow. Although they looked at Eku, they just stood there, without sniffing. Leelan began making a strange cooing sound in her breast. Elin gasped. The fur on her chest, which had been a pale red, was now bright crimson, as if blood had spurted across it. And that was not all. She was exuding a strong, sweet scent. Eku raised his head to the sky and gave a high-pitched trill. Li, li, li, li, li, li. Immediately, Leelan responded, trilling an even higher note. Eku flew into the sky with powerful strokes. Leelan ran forward and launched herself into the air. As if pulled by a thread, the two Beasts became a single dot in the sky, flitting above and below one another in a strange dance. Radiating a hard light, they flew along the edge of the silver clouds, ripe with the sun. Leelan’s chest gleamed like a bright red jewel. Before the eyes of the speechless watchers, Leelan and Eku mated. The confirmation of Leelan’s pregnancy threw the school into an uproar. “We can hardly keep this a secret from the palace,” Yassa remarked, and Esalu could only nod in agreement. The number of Beasts under the Sanctuary’s care was reported to the palace and meticulously recorded, and that number determined the amount of funds the Sanctuary received. If Leelan gave birth successfully, they would have to report her cub to the palace. As Yassa had said, they could not possibly hide what had happened. Not only that, but Eku had not returned to the wild. He had remained instead by Leelan’s side, as if to protect her, and they would have to explain why they needed to apply for funds to feed him, too. The night that the teachers decided to report Leelan’s pregnancy, Elin was summoned to Esalu’s office. The headmistress sat at her desk as usual, but she could not hide the fatigue in her eyes. Elin knelt before her and bowed her head to the floor. “I’m very sorry.” That was all she could say. It should have been her who faced the great wave that would soon engulf Esalu, but even if she told the inspector that everything had been her decision alone, as the head of the school, Esalu would still be held responsible. “Look at me, Elin,” Esalu said gently. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You only did what I have always longed to do myself.” Elin looked up at her in surprise and saw that she was smiling. “I went searching for Royal Beasts in the wild because I wanted to see what they were really like. But I gave up because I was afraid, and so I wasted my youth. When you came, Elin, it seemed like fate was giving me another chance. And you succeeded beautifully.” Elin stared at Esalu, whose eyes now brimmed with tears. “To see Royal Beasts mate and bear young … I never dreamed that such a day would come. I can never, ever thank you enough.” Her voice shook, and she wiped her eyes with a wrinkled hand. “You’ve done what no one else before you could. This is an outstanding achievement, worthy of the highest praise … It makes me boil with anger to think that we can’t simply celebrate your success.” Elin looked down to hide her tears. The dream that she had cherished for so long—for Leelan to fly, mate, and bear young, just like Beasts in the wild—had finally come true, yet she could not rejoice, and that was so frustrating. It was a huge comfort to her just to know that Esalu shared this feeling. The headmistress sighed. “When I saw Leelan mate, a riddle that had puzzled me for many years was finally solved … Royal Beasts mate in flight.” Elin nodded and wiped her tears with her hands. Looking at Esalu, she said, “I was surprised, too. I think from what I observed standing beside Leelan that the scent of the male may have brought her into heat.” “That’s right. Both she and Eku sniffed the air, didn’t they?” “Yes. Then Leelan’s fur suddenly turned bright red, and she gave off a very sweet scent. I think those must have been signs that she was ready to mate. Now that I think of it, whenever I visited Leelan after being with Eku, she sniffed me. It was around that time that the fur on her chest began to change color, too.” “I see. So the scent of a mature male brings a female into heat.” Esalu’s gaze shifted to her desk. “But the other Beasts showed no interest whatsoever.” There were three other females in the Sanctuary in addition to Leelan, and they had all been sunning in the meadow. Elin shivered at the thought that, even though they could smell Eku, they had not responded at all. Esalu murmured as if to herself, “What could be the reason? What prevents the other Beasts in the Sanctuary from going into heat? The Silent Whistle? The tokujisui?” “I think it’s the tokujisui.” Esalu looked at her in surprise. “Are you sure?” “There could be other factors involved, so I can’t be certain, but I think that tokujisui is definitely one factor … The night before they took my mother away, she told me that tokujisui made the Kiba’s fangs harder and their bones larger than Toda in the wild, but at the expense of other things.” Even when she tried, Elin could no longer remember her mother’s face. The one thing she did remember clearly were the words she had said. “She told me to think about it. She said that there was something Toda in the wild do naturally that those raised in the Ponds can’t. She said that I’d find the answer for myself one day. But then she warned me not to tell anyone the answer, not until I could understand why I shouldn’t tell them what I knew…” Her throat closed, and her words faltered. She clenched her teeth to hold back her tears. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “When I saw Leelan mate, I knew exactly what she had meant. I knew what Beasts in the wild do as a matter of course that Beasts raised in captivity can’t.” She lifted her eyes to look at Esalu. “Horses and cows raised by men still bear young. It is only Royal Beasts and Toda that become barren … And only Royal Beasts and Toda are given tokujisui.” A heavy silence fell on the room. The only sound to be heard was the night wind rattling the window. Someone, long ago, had devised an ingenious way of preventing both Royal Beasts and Toda from reproducing, one which concealed this motive so that not even those caring for them realized what was happening. But why? Was it to prevent the catastrophe that the Ahlyo had described? But it had been the first Yojeh, not the Ahlyo, who had written the Royal Beast Canon. A thought rose into Elin’s mind, and she paused in shock. If what the Ahlyo had told her was true, they had come from beyond the Afon Noah—just like the first Yojeh … A chill spread through her chest. What if the first Yojeh had experienced the same catastrophe and had felt the same way as the Ahlyo?… Looking up, she saw that Esalu was watching her. “I have a request,” Elin said, with a very pale face. “Don’t keep my existence a secret.” Esalu’s eyes widened slightly. “What did you say?” “I don’t want someone else to take the blame for what I’ve done while I hide. If the Canon was intended to prevent a catastrophe like the one the Ahlyo fear, then the Yojeh will be very angry that we allowed the Beasts to breed.” She leaned forward, but Esalu interrupted her before she could continue. “Elin, just a minute.” A smile touched her face. “I’m glad you’re taking this seriously, but in this, you are still inexperienced. Is that what you were worried about? I’m not concerned about that in the least.” Elin blinked, looking puzzled. “What happened here was a coincidence,” Esalu said. “We tried very hard to save the life of the Beast cub, and, lo and behold, she happened to bear young … Why would the Yojeh reprimand us instead of celebrating?” Esalu’s smile broadened when she saw the blank look on Elin’s face. “Don’t you see? We may be scolded for not following the Canon, but for those who work in a Beast sanctuary, the top priority is to save the life of the Beasts. So the fact that our efforts were aimed at healing Leelan is a given. But more than that, the true purpose of the Canon is a secret. No one has told us the reason for it, so we can’t possibly be blamed.” She laughed, but then her expression sobered. “You must not show yourself in public … What we need to worry about is what happens after people know about Leelan. You understand, don’t you?” Elin nodded. Just as Esalu had said, when the news reached the palace, Leelan’s pregnancy was hailed as a promising omen, and the Yojeh’s praise and congratulations were conveyed to the Sanctuary. Kazalumu rose instantly to fame, and the Yojeh substantially increased the amount of funds awarded to it, much to the delight of staff and students. As the students were fond of noting, thanks to Leelan, they now got an extra side dish every evening. The fact that a Royal Beast gifted to the Yojeh was now pregnant cheered the hearts of her people. Recently, the only news seemed to be bad news, such as attempts on the Yojeh’s life and ominous increases in the Aluhan’s forces, which they claimed were needed to defend the borders against marauders. Wherever people gathered, they spoke of Leelan’s pregnancy as a sign of good fortune. And the person most excited by the news was the Yojeh herself. Pregnancy for a Royal Beast lasted longer than for humans. By the time the swelling in Leelan’s belly began to show, it was time for Elin, along with Yuyan, Kashugan, and her other classmates, to sit for the Graduation Trials. Having been so busy with Leelan, she had barely had time to study and went into the exam feeling quite anxious. When the results were announced and she found that she had passed at the top of her class, she stood for a moment staring at Esalu’s face in stunned silence. Then Yuyan raised her hands and began clapping enthusiastically, and the whole room erupted with applause. Elin walked toward the front as if in a dream, hardly feeling her legs move. It was only when she felt the touch of the diploma in her hands that joy finally welled up inside her. Esalu smiled. “Congratulations, Elin! You worked so hard for this, didn’t you?” Elin pressed her trembling lips together and bowed deeply. It was a hot summer’s afternoon, and the incessant sound of the cicadas in the trees outside poured like rain through the open windows of the dining hall. That summer was a season of joy mingled with sorrow. The graduating students, who had spent the last six years in the dorm, must now leave the nest, each to begin their own path in life. Yuyan had decided to return home and become the village beast doctor. Letters from her family and relatives spoke longingly of her return. Not only her village, but three others in the same remote valley had no beast doctor to care for their livestock. “Everyone’s counting on me,” Yuyan said with a grin. But when the day of her departure finally arrived, she clung to Elin and wept bitterly, as if they would never see each other again. Elin, who found it hard to express her feelings so freely, could find nothing to say. She just stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her pain at this parting was even deeper than her friend’s. The thought that she and Yuyan would never share the same room again seemed to open a gaping hole in her heart through which a cold wind blew. Yuyan’s family came to get her, but Elin had no mother or father to greet her or to rejoice in the fact that she had come first in her class. Once Yuyan left, she would have no one to whom she felt this close. If Joeun had still been alive, he would have grinned and hugged her tightly.… If only he were here. She could not help missing him. When Yuyan and the others had left, Kazalumu was so quiet it seemed deserted. At first, Elin was plagued by a hollow sense of loneliness, but the summer was so busy and her work so demanding that this feeling gradually faded. For one thing, she could not rely on Esalu or the other teachers for advice, as none of them knew how to care for a pregnant Beast either, and she was frequently overcome with anxiety. For another, she not only had to prepare for the Entrance Trials at the end of summer, but in addition, from the fall, she would begin teaching for the first time. From the day she was officially appointed a teacher, Elin wore the Silent Whistle around her neck every day. It was her duty as a teacher responsible for the lives of her students, but she kept it concealed inside her robe because it bothered Leelan. Esalu said nothing, although Elin was sure that she must have noticed. When the highland breezes had once again turned cooler, a horde of children, their faces taut with excitement, invaded the school. Although Elin was used to new students entering at this time of year, it was one thing to welcome them as an older student and quite another to greet them as a teacher. The thought that, in the eyes of these young twelve-year-olds, she appeared to be a teacher filled her with a strange mix of pride and embarrassment. She was charged with teaching first-level students about the lives and habits of beasts, birds, and insects. It was a beautiful autumn day when she first stood at the podium. Sunlight spilling through the window cast the shadow of the window frame on the floor. Ten students sat up straight and tall, their eyes riveted to her. They must be curious because I’m a new teacher, she thought, and this made her so nervous that her voice shook. Later, she realized that it had been their first class, too, and they had probably been just as nervous as she. Nor would they have known that she was a new teacher. To them, she was just one of many. Although this did not dispel her shyness at being seen as a teacher, to her surprise, she really enjoyed teaching them. She did not have Yuyan’s gift for speaking and creating a cheerful atmosphere, but the children listened eagerly when she shared her personal experiences about what she had learned or what caught her interest. Once she overheard a student in the hall say, “I love it when Professor Elin talks about when she was a child. That’s the best part, don’t you think?” This made her so happy, she felt like jumping up and down. As she taught, a longing began to grow in her heart. She wanted to share with them the mystery of the creatures that lived in this world. She wanted them to feel the shiver of excitement that she felt when learning. At the same time, however, the act of teaching frightened her. As a student, all she had needed to do was to think and question. If her idea was right, she would be able to prove it in time, and if it was wrong, she could correct it. But as a teacher, she needed to believe that what she said was correct, so that they could memorize it with confidence. Yet, even while she taught, she could not help questioning whether or not the things she told them were true. When she shared this with Esalu, the headmistress said, “The knowledge we teach is simply the truth as we know it at a particular time. What we believe to be true now may be exposed as error through the discoveries of succeeding generations. That’s how human knowledge has been renewed throughout the ages. Remind your students of this every chance you get. “A good teacher is not one who never doubts, but rather one who strives to keep on learning despite the doubts in her mind. At least, that’s what I think.” Elin’s days as a new teacher flew by. As spring approached, it became increasingly difficult to balance teaching with her care of Leelan. Noticing Elin’s pallor, which was obviously due to lack of sleep, Esalu arranged to have another teacher take over her classes temporarily. As Leelan’s time drew closer, Elin almost never left the Beast’s stable. However, one day, on her way back to the dormitory for a change of clothes, she ran into her students as they were leaving the dining hall after breakfast. “Professor Elin!” one of them called out in a high-pitched voice. She stopped and turned, and was surrounded by first-level students. “Is the Beast cub going to be born soon?” Elin smiled. “Not yet. It will need to get a lot warmer first. But her belly’s already very big.” The children’s eyes shone. “I wish we could see. Professor Elin, can’t we go and look?” Elin shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no. This is Leelan’s first pregnancy, and she’s quite nervous. Please let her be.” The shortest boy grabbed her hand. “Professor Elin, is it true that you can talk to the Beasts?” Elin felt as if something cold had brushed her heart. She did not answer immediately, and, seeing her expression, one of the boys put his hand across the other’s mouth. “We’re not supposed to talk about that, remember? The older boys said.” The other boy glared at him and shook his hand away. “But—” He would have continued protesting loudly, but Elin placed her hand on his shoulder. Pressing a finger against her lips, she said, “Quiet please.” She looked at the faces of her students, staring up at her in silence, as if in awe, and the thought spread through her that she could not keep her ability a secret forever. It was close to a miracle that the school had managed to conceal it at all when so many people lived here. Such a miracle could not last. Like water percolating through an earthen wall, the day would certainly come when her secret seeped into the outside world. “It’s true that Leelan and I can communicate certain words to each other,” she said. “I learned to understand her a little because I spent all my time with her, day and night, when she was a cub. But this isn’t something you should talk about lightly. It’s quite complicated. The older students were right when they told you not to mention it. Don’t ever tell anyone outside the school that I can speak with a Royal Beast … Will you promise me?” The students frowned, as though puzzled, but they nodded. Looking at their faces, Elin felt that it could not be much longer before her secret was known. And she was right.