Chapter 8

EIGHT THE GATHERING STORM 1 A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL “Six, seven, eight cartloads…” the Aluhan murmured as he looked down from his window at the castle gate. He snorted. “She’s returned everything.” Noting the vein throbbing in his father’s temple, Shunan said soothingly, “It was only to be expected. If I were in her shoes, I would not accept them either.” The Aluhan turned slowly toward him but said nothing. The rumor that the Yojeh had been ambushed by Toda had reached his ears the morning after the attack. He had immediately dispatched messengers to the Yojeh in Kazalumu and to Princess Seimiya at the palace to deny any involvement, but they had been turned away, unable to fulfill their mission. Again, as soon as he had learned of the Yojeh’s passing, he had sent gold, silver, silk, and other precious goods to Seimiya as mourning gifts. But now these, too, were being returned, still packed in their horse-drawn carts. Even before the carts arrived, the messenger bearing his letter of condolence had returned to say that Seimiya had refused to even let him pass through the palace gate. “She may be the Princess,” the Aluhan said in a low voice, “but to respond like this without even attempting to verify the facts is unpardonable.” Backlit by the window, his figure was sunk in shadow. “This kingdom is doomed if its ruler can be deceived by such an obvious attempt to frame an innocent man.” “Father—” Shunan interjected, but the Aluhan ignored him. “Using Toda to brand us as the Yojeh’s assassins is beyond contempt. If, by any chance, the one behind this foul scheme finds a way to manipulate the Crown, the kingdom will rot from the inside and perish. We cannot leave this ship on which we all sail in the hands of such a foolish captain.” “Father!” Nugan pushed his brother aside to stand before the Aluhan. His eyes shone with outrage and his voice lashed out like a whip. “How can you be so disrespectful? I demand that you retract your words!” Even as Nugan spoke, the Aluhan swept his sword from its scabbard and smacked his son on the ear with the flat of the blade. Nugan fell to his knees and clutched the side of his head. Shaking with rage and astonishment, he gazed up at his father. The Aluhan glared down at him. “It’s about time you grew up,” he said coldly. “If your shortsighted, obstinate stupidity ever threatens your brother’s position, I will not hesitate to lop off your head.” His sword whistled as he whirled it into its sheath. He turned to Shunan. “Do you have some objection too?” “No. It would seem that the time has come,” Shunan said. At this, the Aluhan smiled. But before he could speak, Shunan added, “I believe, however, that it would be wise to allow the Princess a period of grace—to give her some time to think.” The Aluhan frowned. “At times like this, speed means everything. It’s far more effective to respond immediately.” Shunan shook his head. “If we were launching into battle with a foreign country that possessed an army, yes, of course. But I think this case is different.” He walked over to his younger brother, grasped him by the elbow, and helped him to his feet. “Winning this battle will be easier than snatching away a baby’s blanket. The hard part will come after.” He looked at the Aluhan. “Father, I have an idea. Would you be willing to leave it in my hands?” A fishmonger selling his wares for the evening meal rattled by with his cart, accompanied by the high, trailing note of his horn. Ialu rested his arm on his forehead and stared at the ceiling. He had woken much earlier, but had not felt like getting up. Instead, he had lain in bed, gazing absently at the pattern of the woodgrain in the ceiling where it caught the early afternoon light. For the last ten days, from the Yojeh Halumiya’s funeral to the coronation of the new Yojeh, there had been almost no time for sleep. While everyone in the palace dashed to and fro in a state of anxious confusion, he had watched over the new Yojeh, just as always. This morning, when the night watch changed, he had not felt like returning to the antechamber set aside for the Se Zan. Instead, he had left Kailu in charge and returned to his house for the first time in weeks. When he had fallen exhausted onto his bed, he had failed to notice the thin film of dust coating the floor and windowsills, but now he could see it plainly. His room seemed to belong to a stranger—empty but for a single chest of drawers and his woodworking tools, which had lain idle for far too long. The emptiness that always lurked deep inside seeped slowly up his spine and spread through him, until his body felt thin and transparent. He had lived as an arrow to kill, and as a shield to block the arrows of others—that and nothing more. He had no life companion and never would. Before him lay endless days of empty solitude … At times like these, this reality, from which he could never escape, permeated his being. The fishmonger’s voice grew suddenly fainter. He must have turned the corner. This land … cannot possibly survive, he thought. It won’t be long before it changes forever. Regardless of what form it took, it was no concern of his. It was not his job to ponder how the country should be. He was simply a shield to guard the Yojeh. All he needed to think about was how to protect her. Still … He closed his eyes. What should I do about that man now? In the lord’s hall in Kazalumu, Ialu had told Yojeh Halumiya what he suspected, and she had promised to consider how to deal with it. But she had died suddenly, and he was back to where he had started. In his mind, he could still hear the fragile voice of the young Yojeh, Seimiya, as she conducted the funeral rites. He could not leave her ignorant of who had murdered her grandmother. Yet would she believe him if he told her? He sighed. He could guess what the man planned to do with her. Unlike her grandmother, there was not much chance that he would take her life. In that sense, this case was already outside Ialu’s line of duty. Except that now he must serve as the shield of a Yojeh who was only a puppet in that man’s schemes. At this thought, a grim smile rose to his face. Despite the nature of the life he had lived, he realized that somewhere deep inside he still yearned for a cause worth dying for. If he had to sacrifice this life, such as it was, he would still rather do it for something meaningful. But he already knew, didn’t he, the value of his life? One bag stuffed with large gold pieces. His life as a person had ended the day his mother had accepted that bag of gold. He covered his face with his hands and, for a long time, simply listened to the sound of his own breathing. When Seimiya returned to her room and was finally alone, she thought that now, finally, she could weep. She sat on her familiar chair and stared numbly at the floor where the late afternoon sun cast shadows through the latticed window frame. But the tears would not come. Her grandmother’s death had been far too sudden. Even as she had performed the funeral and coronation rites, standing center stage throughout, Seimiya had felt strangely dull and removed, as though she were watching herself from a distance. That feeling did not leave her even when she was on her own. She felt as though she were in a dream where reality had no substance. There was so much to do. In particular, she must decide quickly how to punish the Aluhan for his vile betrayal. Yet even this thought, despite its importance, merely floated in the forefront of her brain, stirring no emotion. A servant at the door announced that Damiya was requesting permission to enter, and Seimiya glanced up. “Let him in…” The door opened, and Damiya walked in. His face still looked pale, although he no longer used a sling. Ever since she was a child, he had been Seimiya’s father, brother, and friend. The moment she saw the gentle concern in his eyes, a sense of normalcy, of everyday life, rushed back with startling vividness, and she was hit full force with the knowledge that her grandmother was no longer a part of that life. Seeing her lips tremble, Damiya strode across the room, opened his arms wide, and wrapped her inside them. Enveloped in his warmth, she felt tears spill from her eyes. Suppressing her sobs, she clung to him tightly and wept. Damiya buried his face in her hair and patted her on the back while tears coursed down his cheeks. For some time, Seimiya wept. When her tears were almost spent, she whispered into his chest, “Thank you. Thanks to you, Uncle, I was able to mourn my grandmother.” Damiya said nothing, merely stroking her hair gently. “If death can come so suddenly, I had better get around to having children soon, hadn’t I?” She smiled and, with a catch in her voice, said, “I must make sure there’s another heir to the Yojeh’s throne.” Damiya, his eyes still closed, took a deep breath and gently shook her slight frame twice. “Don’t say that.” His voice was almost a sigh, and he stroked her hair yet again. “You are not a tool for passing on sovereignty, Seimiya.” She rested a hand on his chest and drew slightly away to look up into his face. “Uncle, I beg you. Please don’t try to comfort me with empty words. I know too well what I am, what my duty is.” Her smile turned fierce. “From the time I was old enough to understand, I have never forgotten, not even once.” Damiya shook his head. “No, Seimiya, you do not realize what you truly are. You have never seen what really matters.” Seimiya raised her brows. “What really matters?” “That’s right. The throne does not exist just to make the ruler suffer. If you must sit on it, then why not enjoy the view that can only be seen from there? Seimiya, you have never once thought of enjoying your sovereignty, have you?” She gazed at the ground. Damiya placed a finger under her chin and gently raised it. “You are the only woman in this land who can choose any man she wishes. Choose the one you love and marry him.” “Impossible,” Seimiya said with a mocking smile. Her scornful expression was just like her grandmother’s. “I am the only woman in this country who truly cannot choose the man she wants. You know that.” “No, in fact, I don’t know that. Why?” She sighed. “Just think of the choices, Uncle. If we go by blood, perhaps you are thinking of my distant cousin, Oliya? That feeble boy with all the presence of a mayfly? Or, instead of the sacred bloodline, shall we opt for members of the nobility instead—all those spoiled, arrogant youths. Enough of this fruitless discussion.” Damiya’s grip on her chin strengthened. “What do you mean by fruitless, my dear? This is a very important question, Seimiya. If there is anyone, say so.” “Anyone?” “A man that you truly like.” Seimiya held her breath. Her eyes slid from his, but then she raised them defiantly, gazing straight at him. “No, there’s no one.” Damiya laughed. “Come, come. Love affairs are the one thing at which I’m a veteran. Your face just spoke far more eloquently than your words.” He let go of her chin and embraced her, rocking her like a little child. “Relax. At least when you are in my arms, be at peace.” He buried his face in her hair again and whispered, “Remember, you are not alone. I am always by your side.” Ialu, who was standing in front of the Yojeh’s room, sword and shield in hand, turned his head. Far down the hall, someone was hurrying toward him. There was an urgency in his step and his face was tense. It was Kailu, who had been on duty at the gate. “What’s wrong?” “The Aluhan’s eldest son,” Kailu whispered hoarsely. “He’s here and requests an audience with the Yojeh.” “How many soldiers has he brought?” Ialu asked sharply. “Actually … none. They bear no arms.” “What did you say?” “He’s brought only three men, none of whom are armed, and they’re all missing something—like a hand or a leg.” “Missing a hand or a leg?” “Yes. And one of the men’s faces is pitifully scarred.” Ialu was silent. He thought he could guess what Shunan, a quiet, intelligent young man, sought to tell the Yojeh. “I will announce their arrival. Wait here.” Standing before the Yojeh’s room, he requested permission to enter. After a few moments, a voice from within bade him in. As he walked into the room, he could not help noticing how close Damiya and Seimiya stood. Seimiya’s eyes were red, indicating that she had probably been crying, but there was color in her cheeks, and her expression was unexpectedly cheerful. Ialu’s heart sank, but he bowed and announced that Shunan was waiting at the gate. The color drained from Seimiya’s face. “What did you say?” Damiya put his arm around her thin shoulders as if to support her and said soothingly, “There’s no need to see him. You can turn him away.” She cast him an imploring glance. He tightened his hand on her shoulder. “To refuse to meet him is also an important way of expressing your will. Don’t allow yourself to be swayed by your emotions. Be firm.” She turned her eyes from Damiya and looked at Ialu’s rigid face. Her eyes reflected the turmoil in her heart. She took a deep breath, then said in a faint voice, “Usher him into the audience chamber.” Shunan entered the chamber alone. Seimiya’s eyes widened slightly when she saw him. In the last four years, he appeared to have matured into a wise and reserved young man. In comparison, she felt that, except for losing her youth, she had not changed at all, and for an instant she regretted agreeing to see him. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I thank you for granting me an audience. I was sincerely grieved to hear of the untimely passing of Her Majesty, Yojeh Halumiya.” Her face rigid, Seimiya whispered, “You? Grieved? Why?” Shunan raised his head, but rather than opening his mouth to speak, he seemed to be waiting to hear what she would say. Instead, Damiya, who sat beside her, spoke on her behalf. “Both we and you know very well who murdered my aunt. You have some nerve to utter such false condolences. I see you’ve inherited your father’s shameless arrogance.” Shunan gazed back at Damiya, his expression unmoved. “I beg your pardon, but do you in fact know who attacked the Yojeh Halumiya?” Seimiya’s cheeks flamed. “How dare you! My grandmother was attacked by Toda. Who else is there who wields those filthy beasts but the Aluhan?” Shunan frowned slightly. “Surely, my lady, you must be aware that ever since the horsemen of Lahza began attacking our eastern border, the demand for Toda has drastically increased, and there are now many among the Yojeh’s people who handle them.” Seimiya’s brows flew up. “And what of it? Are you saying that the Holon would scheme to assassinate their own Yojeh?” “Your Highness, Seimiya,” Shunan paused to take a deep breath and then continued, “What possible benefit could we gain by assassinating the Yojeh in such a contemptible manner?” Seimiya frowned, clearly puzzled by his question. “The foolish Sai Gamulu are one thing, but why on earth would we need to stoop to such measures? It never occurred to me that Your Majesty would fail to realize such an obvious truth.” Seimiya retorted sharply, “With the Yojeh dead, you would become the rulers, of course. What could be of more benefit than that?” “If we killed the Yojeh, the Aluhan would be king? In that case, assassination makes no sense at all.” There was an edge of steel to his voice now. “I never dreamed you would misjudge us to that extent. If we ever decided that this land could not be entrusted to the rule of the Yojeh, we would have no need whatsoever to stoop to assassination. We could seize power openly. We have at our command a hundred Toda troops and ten thousand horsemen, all of which have protected this land for centuries from external enemies, repulsing repeated invasions. We possess the power to destroy you and take over this palace tomorrow, if we so desired.” Damiya gave a bark of laughter. “Well done. Now you are showing your true colors. My Lady Seimiya, I am sure you now understand all too well the true nature of the Aluhan. He intends to seize the throne by force.” Shaking his head, Damiya smiled at Shunan. “It is just as you say, Shunan. It would be so simple for you to kill us and usurp the throne. But by doing so, you will gain the throne of a country doomed to die. “The Yojeh is a god. If you are so blind to the divine will revealed in the Yojeh that you take the throne by force, this land, bereft of its god, will perish.” Shunan fixed his eyes not on Damiya but on Seimiya. After a long silence, he finally said quietly, “Do you also believe this, my lady?” “Of course,” Seimiya responded immediately. “You mean you don’t?” Shunan shook his head curtly. “No, I don’t.” He rose. “I do not believe that the Yojeh are gods. How can anyone who is incapable of bringing happiness to this land possibly be a god?” Seimiya’s cheeks turned pale. Damiya leapt to his feet and opened his mouth to shout, but she silenced him with her hand. “Why do you say that I cannot bring happiness to this land?” “Let me ask you this, my lady. How do you intend to heal the mortal illness that afflicts this land?” “It is the greed and ambition of your people that is the cause. I will heal it by refusing to be swayed by such contamination, by retaining a pure heart. It is true that I have no warriors to protect me. But if you use your military might to destroy me, this country will lose its soul. And at that moment, it will die. It will be you, not I, who destroys this country.” Shunan shook his head. “No warriors to protect you? Surely you cannot be serious. Who on earth do you think has been protecting you all this time? Not you as an individual, but this entire kingdom?” The anger in his eyes was unmistakable. “I wonder if you have the courage to look upon those who have defended this land.” “I am never, ever afraid,” Seimiya answered in a hard voice. Shunan nodded. “Then let us look. Come in!” he cried. The doors opened, and three men shuffled into the room. Seimiya caught her breath at the sight. They were young, not yet twenty. One was missing his right arm from the elbow down, another had lost his left leg at the thigh and walked instead on a wooden peg. The last one to enter was a boy who looked to be only fifteen or sixteen and had not even begun to grow a beard. A hideous burn, centered round his right eye, disfigured his otherwise smooth complexion, and there was only an empty socket where his eyeball should have been. Shunan placed his hand on each man’s shoulder in turn as he introduced them one by one. “This is Lahalu. The year before last, he lost his arm while fighting to protect a fort when the Lahza attacked from Hosalu Pass. Yunan here fought in the same battle with the cavalry and was badly injured. The wound festered, and in the end, his leg had to be amputated from the thigh down. And this boy is Lokalu. His keen eyesight made him a great lookout, but a flaming arrow pierced his right eye while he stood on the lookout tower.” Shunan turned to face Seimiya. “Thousands of soldiers with devastating injuries like these live in this kingdom. Thousands more lie rotting beneath its cold earth. If they, and their fathers and mothers, their children and lovers, knew that you believed you have no warriors to protect you, I am sure they would rise up and demand to know what on earth their deaths, and the deaths of those they loved more dearly than life, were for.” Unable to breathe, Seimiya stared at the boy with the empty socket. He stared back at her with his one remaining eye, as if he could not believe he was really face to face with the Yojeh. His confusion was painfully evident. Was it right to feel awe in her presence? Was it safe to voice his doubt and anger? What feelings should he show her? Seimiya could not even begin to identify the emotions that welled up inside her. She did not even know if she should weep. All she wanted was to be alone. To be alone and think. The right words to say at this particular moment simply would not come. “Seimiya,” Shunan said, addressing her by name. “We have shed blood and tears for centuries to prevent this country from being laid waste by foreign powers. I am not seeking to romanticize our role or to demand your pity. But I simply cannot believe that it is right for one who does not know our reality to rule.” His voice was like the shadow cast through the window by the late afternoon sun. While regretting the dying of the day, he calmly announced the coming of the night. “If you insist that you are a god and that placing the Aluhan on the throne will lead to this country’s destruction, then prove it. Four months from now, on the day we celebrate the dawn of this country’s founding, let us determine who is right. On that day, we will wait for you on Tahai Azeh, the Plain of Advent, where our nation was born. We will wait for you with our finest Toda troops, the ones that you despise as ‘filthy,’ but that I believe symbolize this country’s reality. “If the god truly blesses your actions and watches over you, the Toda will, just as legend recounts, be so awed by your divine majesty that they will bow their heads before you. If this miracle should occur, then my father and I will rein in our troops and once again serve as your vassals, shedding our blood without complaint…” He looked at her pale face, the one that had stayed imprinted on his heart all these years. Then he drew a deep breath and continued. “However, if such a miracle fails to occur, then, Seimiya, I ask that you, for the sake of your people, give yourself to me.” Seimiya’s eyes wavered. Shunan held her gaze as she stood speechless and dazed, then bowed his head slowly. “If you decide to accept my proposal, raise a blue flag. When we see that flag, the advancing Toda will halt before you.” Without asking her leave, he turned on his heel and, urging the young soldiers ahead, quietly left the room. 2 THE NATURE OF BEASTS Flowers dotted the meadows of Kazalumu, and a light breeze carried their sweet fragrance along with the scent of grass. While Alu and Eku bathed in a small pond, Leelan munched on yellow keema blossoms some distance away. Keema cleansed the stomach of parasites, and Royal Beasts liked to gorge themselves while they were in bloom. The fact that Leelan did so without ever having been taught by her kind made Elin pause to wonder at the innate knowledge of living things. She was watching dreamily as Leelan snapped the flowers in her jaws when the Beast suddenly reared her head and, wrinkling her nose, began to growl. Surprised, Elin followed the direction of her gaze and saw three men on horseback swiftly ascending the gentle rise toward her. Behind them, she could see several teachers, one of whom she recognized as Esalu by her white hair. They were on foot, running after the horsemen, but the distance between them widened rapidly. Leelan’s growl turned menacing. Elin raised a hand to still her and walked toward the men. As they drew closer, she could see that they were all dressed as Beast Handlers. Although she knew none of them, one look at the crests sewn to their uniforms told her who they were. The first, who appeared to be the elder, dismounted, and the other two followed suit. They watched her warily, fingering their Silent Whistles. The leader looked down at her haughtily. “Greetings. I am Ohooli, Head of the Lazalu Beast Sanctuary.” He gave a polite bow, an act that contrasted starkly with the disdain in his eyes. Elin bowed in return. “I am honored. How may I help you?” There was a pause before he replied. His jaw clenched and bulged, and his neck turned red. He reminded her of a fighting dog she had once seen in a market, restrained by its master yet trembling with the urge to bite. “I have come to escort you to Lazalu,” Ohooli said, as if forcing the words from his throat. “Her Highness, Yojeh Seimiya, has graciously deigned to convey this message. In honor of your distinguished services in saving the previous Yojeh, Her Highness has commanded us to welcome you as the Head of Lazalu Beast Sanctuary. You are to move yourself and the Beasts you have raised at once to Lazalu, in order to protect the palace.” Pain shot through Elin’s heart. From the moment she had heard of Yojeh Halumiya’s passing, she had feared that this day must come. Breathing with difficulty, she said, “Her Highness is far too gracious. I am afraid that I must decline.” The men’s faces remained unmoved. Clearly, they had been expecting this response. “We were told not to accept no for an answer,” Ohooli said coldly. “If you refuse to comply with this generous offer, our orders are to bring you back to the palace by force.” Before she could even open her mouth, the two men standing behind Ohooli moved swiftly to each side of her and grasped her arms. Ohooli’s mouth lifted in a mocking smile. “Your colleagues were far more agreeable than you.” The men gripped her arms with more force than necessary, but Elin had no intention of struggling. “What did you say to them?” “Just that we had come to carry out the Yojeh’s wishes.” He’s so vain, Elin thought. He must be furious with her for taking away his job. While he longed to ease the resentment smoldering in his heart by scoffing at her, he was afraid to show his feelings in case it jeopardized his future. Despite this, he could not resist making spiteful little jabs that spoiled his pretense of politeness. A cold, heavy lump sank in her stomach, and she let the tension drain out of her. She had lost any desire to even try to reason with him. Leelan had continued to growl, the sound growing steadily louder, but now it crescendoed to a deep and ominous thunder that Elin had never heard before. The men on either side of her grabbed the Silent Whistles that hung round their necks and placed them to their lips. An icy fear gripped her. At this distance, the whistles would paralyze not only Leelan, but the cub as well. “No! Please don’t!” she cried, and twisted from their grasp. The men, who had been focused on Leelan, were caught off guard and staggered. One of them dropped his whistle. The next moment, there was a loud snap, and the hand of the other vanished in a swirl of dark wind. Blood spurted from the stump of his wrist, while Leelan, her blood-smeared lips pulled back in a snarl, crunched his hand, bones and all, in her jaws. Her fangs had torn off not only his hand, which had held the whistle, but his lips and nose as well. Elin and the men stood frozen in disbelief, gazing up at the Beast towering over them. Then the man who had lost his hand threw back his head, and a scream erupted from his throat. At the sound, the man on Elin’s other side jerked to his feet and, turning on his heels, broke into a run. Perhaps attracted by the movement, Leelan leapt into the air. Elin felt like she was in a nightmare. She dashed after the fleeing man. He stumbled and fell, and she flung herself over him, waving Leelan back with her hand. “Leelan! Stop! Stop!” she pleaded. Intoxicated by the taste of blood, Leelan followed the hand that fluttered before her face and bit reflexively. Elin heard the bones in her left hand shatter. In the next moment, sheer agony shot from her hand to every corner of her body. Leelan’s frenzied, snarling face loomed over her. Spittle, frothy blood, and bits of broken bone spattered Elin’s face, and she prepared to die. Just then, her hand brushed something on her neck. Light flashed in her eyes as she realized what it was. She brought the Silent Whistle to her mouth and blew. All sound ceased. Gasping for air, her shoulders heaving, Elin stared at Leelan’s face, rigid as stone, fangs still bared. Pain throbbed in her hand and blood gushed forth, but it was as though her body were too far away for these to reach her consciousness. She watched in a daze as someone ran up, shoved her out of the way and dragged the fallen man from beneath Leelan’s wing. That was the last thing she remembered before she tumbled into darkness. All night, she lay tormented by fever and burning pain. Nightmares disturbed her sleep. When she finally woke on the morning of the second day, her fever was gone, but she was weak and weary, and her body felt like an empty shell. Seeing Elin’s eyes open, Esalu rose from beside her bed. “Are you awake?” Elin looked at her foggily for a moment, then nodded slightly. As consciousness returned, the pain in her left hand came rushing back, and with it, the memory of that awful nightmare. A crushing fear seized her. “That man…” She could barely force out a hoarse whisper, but Esalu guessed what she wanted to know. “He’s still alive. You can thank the gods that no one died at least.” As the words penetrated her mind, a hot lump rose through the mist that wrapped her heart, and tears welled from her eyes. The Beast Handlers who had come from Lazalu were the same men who had dragged Leelan before the Yojeh when she was a cub. She had never forgotten being paralyzed by their Silent Whistles in the palace garden, and, worse, being shot by an arrow. She was so agitated, she had had to be chained in her stable. The wounded Beast Handler was being cared for solicitously in the room next to Elin’s. Three fingers on Elin’s left hand from her baby finger to her middle finger had been bitten off, and although the wound had been sewn up, she might lose the use of that hand. All these things Esalu told her. Elin heard the words, but her brain registered their meaning only dully. Something black and heavy had spread through her mind, and all she could feel was the weight of it. Over and over, she saw herself twist out of the men’s grasp, saw one of them drop his whistle. Again and again, she saw Leelan swooping down like a black wind, heard the sound of the man’s hand being chopped off, bones and all, felt her fingers shattering, heard the man scream … Whether her eyes were open or closed, the same scene, the same sounds, the same pain were constantly replayed in her mind, like a nightmare from which she could never escape. Around midnight on the third day after she regained consciousness, she heard the sound of falling rain. As she listened, a thought spread through her mind. Leelan ate my hand … She had snapped at Elin’s hand just like that, without any hesitation. She would have eaten her, even though they had lived together for so long. How could anyone even begin to understand how beasts thought? She should never have projected human thoughts onto beasts and assumed that she understood them. In doing so, she had forgotten that they would always be a mystery to man and had convinced herself that she knew what they were thinking. On that fateful day, Leelan had growled in a way that Elin had never heard before, yet she had ignored her. Her own carelessness and arrogance had brought about this disaster. She could never undo what she had done. No matter how hard she might pray or plead, she could never, ever change it. The man who had lost his hand and half his face must be in terrible pain even now. He would never be the same again. For the rest of his life, he would have to live without a hand, without a nose, without lips … Elin could not breathe. She closed her eyes and gulped for air like a fish. She did not hear the sound of her own breathing or the incessant rain drumming on the roof. The only sound that rang through her brain was the man’s anguished scream after Leelan bit him. It was seven days later that Elin was finally able to rise from her bed. As soon as she could, she went next door to visit the injured Handler. She apologized and gave him all the money that the Yojeh had given her, asking him to use it to get the care he would need. The Beast Handlers from Lazalu listened without a word, their eyes cold with hatred and contempt. With bowed head, she bore their gaze. Ohooli finally spoke. “We cannot wait for your hand to heal. We’ll leave with the Beasts for the palace within the month, so be prepared.” Elin bowed wordlessly, then turned and left the room. Esalu, who was waiting for her in the hall, came up to her. “Are you all right?” she asked. Elin nodded. “I’d like to see how Leelan is doing.” Esalu stared at her silently, but then acquiesced. They had begun walking slowly down the corridor when Esalu suddenly put her hand into her robe and pulled out the Silent Whistle. Elin took it and hung it around her neck. The stable was dark inside, and the stench of dung filled the air. Leelan swung her head up abruptly when Elin entered, but instead of cooing the way she usually did, she snorted and huffed loudly. The smell of Beast permeated the stable. Golden eyes stared warily through the bars. Bald patches on Leelan’s chest oozed blood. She must have been gnawing her fur. “We removed the chains but she refuses to go outside,” Esalu explained. “We can’t clean her stall, so we’ve had to leave it like this.” Elin said nothing. She did not even hear Esalu’s voice. The instant those golden eyes had met her own, the sight of Leelan’s snarling face close to hers had flashed through her mind, and her left hand jerked in its sling. She gasped for air and tried to stop the trembling that seized her body. “Elin.” Esalu grabbed her elbow, and she started. Beads of cold sweat ran down her body. She turned toward Esalu and waited until her face came into focus. Her brain was numb; she could not think. It was all she could do to suppress her panic. “That’s enough for today,” Esalu said. “Wait until you’re feeling a bit better before you try anything more.” And taking Elin’s hand, she urged her gently toward the door. At that moment, Elin heard a low, questioning rumble. She stopped and looked up at Leelan. The huge Beast towered above her like a shadow, her head almost touching the ceiling. Elin feared she might break down the bars at any minute and attack. Sweat broke out on her frozen face and dripped down her temples. A thought floated into her numbed mind. I must not leave the stable like this. If I refuse to face Leelan now, I will never, ever be able to face her again. “Please,” she whispered. “Open the stall.” Esalu frowned and searched Elin’s face, then nodded and went outside. Elin heard the sound of the pulley. The wall behind Leelan opened, and light poured into the stable. Leelan turned toward the door and squinted against the light. “Leelan, out,” Elin said. The Beast swung her head back toward Elin and stared at her intently. “We need to clean, so go outside,” Elin said in her usual voice, but still Leelan did not budge. Noticing that her eyes were fixed on the Silent Whistle hanging round her neck, Elin raised her hand and grasped it. Instantly, Leelan’s hackles rose. She growled, showing the tips of her fangs. “Stop it!” Elin commanded sternly, but Leelan ignored her. Baring her fangs fully, she snarled menacingly. Anger flared inside Elin as she realized that Leelan was threatening her. She glared at the Beast and raised the whistle to her lips. Leelan’s growl rose in pitch, and all her fur stood on end. “I said stop it! If you don’t, I’ll blow,” Elin shouted. She drew a deep breath, and Leelan ceased growling abruptly. A crackling tension filled the air as they glared each other down. Then Leelan’s eyes suddenly wavered and slid away. Elin did not miss this sign. “Go outside,” she commanded in a low voice. Leelan flapped her wings two or three times, as though shaking something off, then folded them and lumbered outside. Elin gasped for air as she watched Leelan’s figure disappear into the white sunlight. Her eyes filled with tears. She felt Esalu’s hand gently touch her elbow, and she covered her face with her right hand. Twenty days later, the three Beasts, having been thoroughly sedated, were chained and placed on carts. Elin climbed into a carriage with Ohooli. As they passed through the school gate, she glimpsed the anxious faces of Esalu, the teachers, and the students watching her from the windows. With a crack of the whip, the carriage picked up speed, and the school vanished from view. A blinding shaft of summer sunlight shone into the carriage. Cloud shadows dappled the vast meadow covering the highlands. The blue vault of the sky and the meadow where the Royal Beasts napped in the sun disappeared behind her. Six years had passed since Joeun had brought her here. The days she had spent with Yuyan, the happy years she had lived on this plateau, were all speeding away. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, surrendering to the swaying of the carriage. 3 DAMIYA’S COMMAND Elin remembered almost nothing of the journey downriver to the capital. Her thoughts were so consumed by what lay before her that the scenery never even penetrated her mind. Once in the capital, she was taken to the Lazalu Beast Sanctuary, where Leelan and the other Beasts were transferred to a stable. She herself was confined to a single room. Although she was given a sumptuous meal and a luxurious bed, her door was guarded at all times, and she was not permitted to leave, even to feed the Beasts. The next day, it rained from early morning, and there was a chill to the air despite the season. She was led to the palace through a dark curtain of rain, but it seemed to breathe life into the forest surrounding it. Leaves fluttered like beckoning hands each time a large drop fell, and the air echoed with a ceaseless pitter-patter of sound. Peace filled her heart as she passed through the wood, redolent of bark, rich earth, and fresh green leaves. An aged palace emerged abruptly before her. Wrapped in mist, it looked as if it had stood there for a thousand years. Having no idea how the buildings were arranged, Elin could not know that she had been led to Damiya’s hall rather than to the Yojeh’s. She only realized this fact when she was ushered through the doors of the inner chamber and saw Damiya watching her languidly from a chair set on a dais at the far end of the room. Her guide went out, leaving her alone with Damiya. The hush of the rain shrouded the room in a shimmer of sound. Damiya frowned, startled perhaps by her haggard appearance. “How is your hand?” he asked. Elin bowed her head slightly. “It does not hurt much now.” “I’m glad to hear that, although I must say, you still look ghastly. Have a seat on that chair.” He waited for her to sit and then said quietly, “It was quite sudden, I heard. No matter how accustomed they are to you, it would seem that Royal Beasts are still beasts. A terrible accident, yes. But Ohooli tells me that you didn’t give in to fear, even though you were bitten, and that you’re still able to control the Beast very well.” Elin spoke solemnly. “We no longer have the bond we once had. I will never be able to face Leelan again without a Silent Whistle in my hand.” Damiya smiled. “Even so, the Royal Beasts still obey you. That’s what matters.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Did you hear that the Aluhan’s son visited the palace?” Elin shook her head, and his mouth curled in a smile. “That boy doesn’t know his place. He came to demand that the Yojeh give herself to him.” There was no outrage in his voice as he described to her what had happened. Rather, he sounded almost amused. “And,” he concluded, “that is why the Yojeh must face the Aluhan’s Toda on Tahai Azeh two months from now. If the Toda bow their heads before the Yojeh in recognition of her divine will, just as they did when the first Yojeh descended onto that plain, the Aluhan will recognize her as a true god and surrender. However, if no such miracle occurs, the Toda will advance across the plain and devour the Yojeh. If she wishes to avert such a fate, she must marry the son of the Aluhan. Or so he said.” Smiling, he gazed at Elin. “And here you are, just at the time our country needs you. The workings of the gods are wondrous indeed.” Elin did not respond, nor did Damiya expect her to. “It seems unfair to be so harsh when you are still recovering from your injury but, Elin, would you really defy divine will? Because believe me, if you choose that road, I will make your life a living hell. I know you can’t be tempted by greed or ambition. However, neither are you capable of heartlessness, no matter how you may deny it. You proved that when you could not stand by and watch the Toda devour the Yojeh. “After that incident, I used every means in my power to find out more about you. I know who you care for, and how you came to train the Beasts. I know everything.” He turned his face to the window and gazed at the falling rain. “I have already seized Esalu. If that’s not sufficient, I can certainly bring in the young woman who was your bosom friend. I would be most interested to see if you are capable of watching her die before your eyes … to see if anyone can be so true to their beliefs. “Oh, and you will not be permitted an audience with the Yojeh either. There is no one here who will protect you.” A low ringing sounded in Elin’s ears. She remained motionless, her gaze focused on the floor. She had expected this. Yet even so, it did not ease the pain spreading through her chest. When she had told Halumiya that she would not change her mind, even if the lives of her loved ones depended upon it, she had meant it. But she had been able to say so precisely because she believed Halumiya would understand. Damiya, on the other hand, would do exactly as he had said. She closed her eyes. Esalu’s life. Or the countless lives that would undoubtedly be lost should she open the door to this calamity. In terms of numbers, Esalu was clearly a sacrifice that must be made. But there was no way that she could choose that. She opened her eyes, and her gaze collided with Damiya’s. “I do not know why you refuse to use the Royal Beasts to guard our divinely ordained ruler,” he said quietly. “Because you did not tell me, you see. However, if it’s because you fear using the Royal Beasts as weapons of war, your reasoning is faulty.” He rose slowly and walked over to her side “The cracks in this country are caused by a disruption in the balance of power. The equilibrium between the military force of the Aluhan and our authority to rule has been upset, and one side is about to be obliterated by the other, as if by an avalanche.” His voice was calm and detached. “I simply wish to restore the balance that is being threatened by one side amassing too much power. It’s the only way to prevent the people of this land from killing one another. Or do you think that there is some other way?” Elin opened her mouth, but her lips felt stiff and clumsy. “Even if I were to fly Leelan and protect the Yojeh, would the Aluhan really be so foolish as to believe that a miracle had occurred?” Damiya’s eyes widened. “He might be sufficiently impressed in that moment to pull back his troops,” Elin continued almost in a whisper. “But once time passes and he begins to think objectively, the same problem would be sure to arise again. The root of the disease afflicting this land is certainly not going to vanish with a single, flashy miracle. As long as the cause of the imbalance remains, the seeds of division will never disappear. “And besides, I don’t believe that Leelan can restore the balance of military power. One Royal Beast is not enough for that.” Damiya stared at her intently. “Well, well, what a surprise,” he murmured, then changed his tone. “You’re quite a clever girl. If you’ve got enough insight to understand the situation that deeply, then let me speak plainly. I’m not planning to use the Royal Beast to destroy the Aluhan. As you pointed out, it’s unrealistic, although I do hear that you’re capable of controlling Royal Beasts that you haven’t raised yourself.” Her eyes wavered in surprise, and Damiya smiled. “I told you, didn’t I? I found out everything. But never mind that. Even with a pack of Royal Beasts, if you are the only one who can command them, then we can never hope to destroy the Toda troops led by the Aluhan. “But for now, one is enough. If a miracle occurs on Tahai Azeh, the Aluhan will have to keep his word. That alone will turn the tide. If we can just get through this crisis, it will give you enough time to train others and form a formidable army of Royal Beasts. Royal Beast troops to match the Toda troops—a perfect balance, don’t you think?” Elin’s lips parted, and she gazed unseeingly at Damiya. The ringing in her ears had ceased. “Of course, the purpose of the Royal Beast Corps would not be indiscriminate slaughter. In fact, we may not even need to use them at all. Think about it. Their very existence would give us the power to keep the Aluhan in check.” Elin lowered her eyes and stared blankly at his chest. Control the Toda with Royal Beasts. Just as we control the Royal Beasts with the Silent Whistle … I see. So this is the way people think. With this realization, the heavy weight that had been crushing her heart crumbled like sand, and in its place, an icy chill crept through her. Now she knew what she must do, but she felt not the slightest enthusiasm for it. With her eyes still averted from his, she said, “I am afraid that that is impossible.” Damiya’s face stiffened. “What?” “I am the only one who can wield the Art that controls the Beasts.” When her voice ceased, the pattering of the rain came rushing back, and, for several moments, they stood listening to the sound. Finally, Damiya shook his head slowly. “You expect me to believe that?” “Yes. If you doubt me, I can prove it,” Elin said quietly. Damiya raised his eyebrows. “Prove it?” “Yes. When the rain stops, please bring your most skilled Beast Handler to Leelan’s stable. I will teach him the skills I use, and he can try it for himself. If you think that Leelan is too used to me, then any other Beast will do. If anyone can acquire these skills, then any Beast should respond to the person who plays the same notes that I do.” Damiya gazed at her wordlessly. She relaxed and gazed back at him with eyes as fathomless as the sea. Finally, he shrugged. “All right, then, let’s try it and see.” He clapped his hands. The door opened and a servant appeared. “Take this woman to the Flower Room. See that she gets bathed, fed, and rested.” The servant bowed and waited for Elin, but she did not move. “I have two requests,” she said. “What are they?” “Please free Esalu immediately, and make sure that her position and her reputation have not been damaged in any way.” Damiya watched her steadily. “Does this mean that you agree to obey my command?” Elin nodded and continued in a steady voice. “My second request is that you let me care for Leelan and the other two Beasts. They are being cared for by the Handlers of Lazalu, but I’m sure they won’t have eaten any of the food that has been given to them.” Staring into the green eyes that looked up at him, Damiya nodded. “So be it. You shall care for Leelan and the others.” 4 THE DEVIL-BITTEN CHILD It rained all night, finally clearing at dawn. The Royal Beasts went out into the fields after the sun had risen higher, but even then, the grass was still damp. The three Beasts from Kazalumu at first seemed puzzled by the different smells of the land. They sniffed the air repeatedly and were wary of the other Beasts scattered about the meadow. As they bathed in the bright summer sun, however, they began to relax, and each one eventually chose a spot to doze. Wrapped in the thick scent of grass, Elin stood and watched them. Leelan’s fur shone brightly in the fresh, clear light, and the sight of her majestic figure brought back the memory of Elin’s first encounter with Royal Beasts in the wild. The same awe she had experienced then welled up inside her. What beautiful, fearsome creatures. Royal Beasts must never be tamed … This thought penetrated her mind. They were meant to be gazed upon in wonder from afar. Although she had longed for coexistence without any need of the Silent Whistle, that had just been a sweet fantasy. To control beasts of such dreadful power, the whistle was indispensable. Yet Beasts raised that way became empty shells, devoid of spirit. No matter how she might protest the cruelty of it, Leelan and the other Beasts raised in captivity could never live in the wild. Anger rose inside her … at the royal family for perpetuating this brutal impossibility, and at herself for meekly submitting to their will. What on earth am I doing here, when all I wanted was to let Beasts born in the wild live as nature intended? Fingering the thick bandage binding her left hand, she stared at Leelan. It was almost noon when Damiya arrived at Lazalu Beast Sanctuary accompanied by a single Se Zan. By then, the clouds had parted, and the sun was beating down. Stifling grass fumes rose from the meadow as they crossed it. With a high whine, a mosquito zeroed in on Damiya’s earlobe. He smacked it, and his guide, Ohooli, looked apologetic. “My lord, you honor us by deigning to visit a place so plagued with mosquitoes,” he said. Damiya chuckled. “It’s not your fault that I’m being eaten alive. Never mind.” The Royal Beasts were probably never bothered by mosquitoes, he thought. Not with their coats of fur. He could see them dotted about the field, soaking up the sun. “There she is,” Ohooli said, pointing, and Damiya squinted his eyes. The two adult Beasts stood with their cub, just as he remembered them at Kazalumu, and beside them was a small figure. “She’s an odd woman,” Ohooli remarked. “She spent the entire night with them.” Damiya started walking toward her. Ohooli hurried after him, hastily grabbing the whistle hanging around his neck and holding it ready to blow at any moment. When he was close enough for his voice to reach her, Damiya stopped and called out, “Elin! Come here.” The fur rose on the necks of the Royal Beasts, and they growled threateningly, but when Elin spoke to them, they lowered their voices. She walked toward Damiya, carrying her strange harp crooked under her left arm. She looked calm, but her skin was even pastier than the day before. “Are you all right?” Damiya asked. Elin looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?” “I mean your health. You look awful.” A smile touched her eyes. “I didn’t get much sleep last night … But it won’t affect my ability to control the Beasts. If you’re ready, then let’s get started.” She shifted her gaze to Ohooli. “Are you the one who’s going to test it?” His eyes froze. “There’s no need for you to push yourself,” Damiya said mildly. “If there’s anyone else who is skilled at handling the Beasts, have them do it.” Ohooli shrugged. “I’m the best Handler here. Let me try it.” Then he added, “But I wonder about using these particular Beasts. They have a special bond with Elin. If we really want to test her method, it would make more sense to choose a Beast she has never handled before.” Elin nodded. “You’re right. Let’s pick one that you’ve raised yourself from infancy. The results will be more reliable that way. Which one shall we use?” Ohooli looked surprised that she had agreed so readily, but he pointed to a large male Beast on the south side of the meadow. “How about Sawan? I raised him with my own hands. He’s the largest and most magnificent of the Beasts here.” Elin looked to where he pointed. It was true that the Beast was far bigger than any of the others, but the luster of his fur came nowhere near Eku’s and could not even compare to Leelan’s. Perhaps Ohooli noticed her expression, for the blue veins in his temples bulged. “Is there something wrong with the Beasts at Lazalu?” Startled by the depth of animosity in his voice, Elin looked at him. “No, not particularly.” Damiya reached out a hand and grasped her shoulder. The tension that had suddenly sprung up between them was instantly defused. “So what are you going to do?” he said calmly. He’s very sharp, Elin thought. “Let me teach him how to feed the Beasts.” They both looked at her questioningly, as if they were having difficulty understanding her words. “How to feed the Beasts?” “Yes, I will show him how to feed a Beast without using a Silent Whistle.” The expression on Ohooli’s face changed. “You can’t be serious. You mean you’re going to get close enough to that Beast to feed it without using the Silent Whistle?” Elin nodded. Ohooli stared at her. “You’d do that? Despite having caused such a horrific accident?” She returned his gaze, her expression dark and sad. “Yes … As long as we protect one another by holding our Silent Whistles ready, we don’t need to worry about any accidents. Are you willing to try it?” Ohooli’s face grew tense, and he said nothing for some moments. Finally, however, he nodded reluctantly. Elin nodded in return. “All right. I’ll go first. If I succeed, I’ll show you how it’s done, and then you can try it.” She began walking in the general direction of the Beast, as if she had no particular interest in him. Royal Beasts kept a certain distance from each other. This boundary had meaning, and they were wary of anyone who crossed it. Although Elin appeared to be walking casually, she was actually testing that distance. The Beast named Sawan watched her steadily as she approached. When she came within ten paces, he rose and spread his wings. Elin stopped and took one step back, then faced him. The moment her gaze met the eyes of the huge Beast, fear rose from the pit of her stomach to her chest. She breathed deeply several times until it passed. An invisible wall seemed to have reared up between them. She began to stroke the harp, as if stroking that wall, plucking the sound that made the Beast feel contented and sleepy. The moment he heard the harp, Sawan pulled back his head, then remained motionless. After a short time, he began to emit a much higher note. The tension flowed out of Elin’s shoulders as she mimicked the same sound on her harp, like a greeting. Ohooli gasped. Still playing the harp, Elin walked toward the Beast. When she had come close enough to touch him, she threw him a chunk of meat. “That woman is a sorceress,” Ohooli murmured. Damiya glanced at him. “If you’re scared, bring someone else. There’s no point in testing this on you if you’re just going to be paralyzed by fear.” Ohooli shook his head. His face was transfigured, almost feverish. “I wouldn’t dream of giving up this opportunity … Of course I’m afraid. But I definitely want to try it.” Damiya smiled. They waited silently as Elin walked back toward them. Brushing back her windswept hair, she began methodically teaching Ohooli how to hold the harp and which strings to pluck. She made him practice until he could produce exactly the same notes as she, and then taught him the distance at which Sawan would begin to feel threatened. “Are you ready?” she asked. Ohooli nodded, his expression intent. “Whatever you do, don’t push yourself. Even if it doesn’t work the first time, it may work if you try it repeatedly. If you feel yourself in any danger, run. The whole effort will have been pointless if you’re injured. I’ll be right behind you with my whistle ready.” “All right.” He took a deep breath and began walking. Just as before, Sawan watched him approach. Following Elin’s instructions, Ohooli carefully tested for the boundary beyond which Sawan felt threatened. When the Beast spread his wings, he stopped. Holding his breath, he stretched his stiff fingers gently and then plucked the harp as Elin had taught him. Sawan listened intently to the sounds, the same way he had with Elin. But no matter how long he played, Sawan did not make the high-pitched sound he had made for Elin. Ohooli played and played, sweat beading his forehead, but still Sawan did not respond. Feeling the eyes of Elin and Damiya on his back, Ohooli lost his patience and took one step forward. “Oh no,” Elin whispered. She ran forward just as Sawan roared and charged at Ohooli. His arms flew up as he threw the harp away. Putting the whistle to her lips, Elin blew. Sawan pitched over, as though he had hit an invisible barrier, collided with Ohooli, and fell like a statue to the ground. Elin raced up and grabbed Ohooli’s arm with her right hand to help him out from under the Beast. “Are you all right?” Pale-faced, he nodded. “Y-your harp … I threw it…” “Don’t worry. I’ll get it later.” She slipped her shoulders under one of his arms and helped him to rise. Unable to put weight on his right leg, he gritted his teeth and hopped on one foot, leaning on Elin the whole way back to Damiya. Just as they reached him, Sawan shook himself and got up. “Is there any chance he’ll attack?” Damiya asked, but both Elin and Ohooli shook their heads. Although Sawan gnawed at himself in agitation for a while, in the end, he settled back down on the ground. Having made sure of the Beast, Damiya returned his gaze to Elin. “Why? Why didn’t he respond to Ohooli’s harp playing?” Elin shook her head. “I’m not sure. But the same thing happened at Kazalumu when both my friend and Esalu tried it. They played the harp just like me, but the Beasts did not respond.” She helped Ohooli sit down on the grass. “Would you roll up your trouser leg for me?” she said. Nodding, he pulled it up past his knee, exposing an ugly purple bruise. As she explored it gently for broken bones, she said, “Lord Damiya, have you ever heard of Akun Meh Chai?” Damiya’s brow furrowed slightly. “Of course, but what of it?” Her hands went still, and she looked up at him. “I am Akun Meh Chai, a devil-bitten child. When I was young, I often heard people talking about how I should never have been born. I hated the expression, but now I think there is some truth in it.” She dropped her eyes back to Ohooli’s knee and murmured, “I should never have been born.” Damiya sighed and shook his head slowly. “Elin, why would you think that? Do you despise using the Royal Beasts so much that you would call yourself Akun Meh Chai?” She stared at the ground without replying. Damiya said quietly, “I think it’s strange that someone as intelligent as you can’t see how performing a miracle on Tahai Azeh would actually save the Royal Beasts.” She frowned up at him, unable to grasp the meaning of his words. “Don’t you understand? The Aluhan is a Toda Rider. His power depends solely on the Toda. When he and his Riders see your Royal Beast effortlessly overpower their serpents, surely you can guess what they will think.” Elin’s eyes widened. Oh … Seeing her expression, he smiled. “Now do you see? The survival of you and your Royal Beast depends upon our victory.” He pressed his point home. “Never forget that, Elin. The perpetuation of our rule is crucial for you and the Royal Beasts, too.” But Elin did not hear. Her blood pounded in her veins, and her mind was stunned by the possibility that had suddenly presented itself. If other nations knew that a single Beast could subdue countless Toda, it would jeopardize the future of the Aluhan’s army. If the Aluhan became ruler of this land, not only would he do away with Elin and Leelan, he would surely also seek to bury all knowledge of training Royal Beasts before any other country learned of it. And that would change everything. If a Toda Rider rules, he will seal away the Art of controlling the Beasts forever … As she gazed at Ohooli’s bruised and swollen knee, this thought, and this thought alone, filled her mind. 5 DISCOVERED “You summoned me, my lord,” Ialu said with a low bow. Damiya nodded. “Take a seat. There’s something I want to ask you.” The sun had long since set, and the light from a large candelabra shimmered on the gold fittings adorning the furniture. When Ialu had sat on the chair indicated, Damiya picked up a flask made of dark green glass from a round table. Removing the stopper, he poured an amber liquid into two goblets, passed one to Ialu, and then raised the other slightly. “Don’t worry, it’s not wine. It’s halaku, an herbal infusion flavored with molasses … Let us drink in honor of my aunt. Even if it’s just one mouthful, drink with me.” Seeing Damiya drain his glass, Ialu took a sip. A pungent herbal fragrance pierced his nostrils, and a bitter tang within the sweetness pricked his tongue. Damiya placed his goblet on the table and sank deeply into a chair. “Did you hear what happened today?” “Today?” “The test Elin performed for us.” Ialu nodded. “Yes, I heard about that.” Damiya poured himself another glass and said, “Of course, we can’t judge for certain just from today’s results. Perhaps if we tried again after raising a Beast the same way that Elin did, it might be different. But that would take years. For the moment, Elin is the only person capable of manipulating the Beasts.” He smiled slightly and looked at Ialu. “That girl is strangely attractive, but she’s too serious, wouldn’t you say? She’s the only one in the world who wields such awesome power, yet she looks so grim.” His smile vanished. “That’s why I summoned you. Tell me, what did she say to my aunt? And why did she tell her, but not me?” Ialu responded quietly. “Please forgive me, but that is not for me to say. I am sure that if she feels it is necessary, she will tell you herself.” Damiya sighed. “You’re too stiff and rigid, Ialu. Try standing in my shoes. If using the Beasts might result in some kind of trouble, I need to know. Otherwise I might make a mistake, you see.” Ialu gazed at Damiya. “Is there any possibility that you might choose not to use the Royal Beasts?” he asked. A cynical smile touched Damiya’s eyes. He leaned forward and said, “No, not a chance. How could there be?” He paused, then added, “A man will commit even the most reckless of deeds to protect his land and his spouse. Isn’t that so, Ialu?” Ialu’s face froze. He felt as if he had been slammed in the chest. Damiya looked almost bashful. “We are not able to make it public at this time because of the current circumstances, but just before you arrived, the Yojeh accepted my offer of marriage.” Ialu stared at Damiya for a few moments and then bowed his head. “Congratulations, my lord.” Damiya laughed gaily. “Yes, I must admit that I am not only happy but also relieved. The country will now be safe.” Raising his head, Ialu was startled by the look on Damiya’s face. Despite his smile, a cold light shone in his eyes. “Swift-footed Ialu,” he said mockingly. “Such a sharp-witted man. You saved my aunt’s life countless times. I’m sure you keep far more hidden inside than you ever show. While you offer me your congratulations, I can see that you’re thinking something else. I believe, however, that you misjudge me.” His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Ialu’s. “I did not seek this marriage out of personal ambition … Think about it. Other than Seimiya, the blood of the Yojeh runs thickest in my veins. Our union is the best thing that could happen to this country. Instead of watering down the sacred blood, we can strengthen it and purify the land. “For three hundred years, the divine Yojeh has ruled, pure and stainless, and the Aluhan has guarded her from defilement, by accepting it in her stead. It’s a perfect system of governance, one not found in any other country, wouldn’t you agree?” There was no trace of his usual bantering tone. “The fissures in this country are caused by people losing faith in the Yojeh. You heard what the Aluhan’s son proposed, didn’t you? What a perfect demonstration of the disease that afflicts this land. He himself is the root cause. Yet, in one sense, his very existence is fortunate for us. What could more obviously demonstrate divine will than for the source of that disease to be punished?” Sweat trickled down Ialu’s back. Chills ran in waves through his body, and he struggled to control them. Damiya’s voice sounded like distant thunder. “On Tahai Azeh, the Aluhan will witness a miracle and know that the Yojeh is a god.” He stood and pointed to the door. “You may go now, Ialu. Soon you shall be released from your onerous task.” As Ialu stepped into the corridor, the Se Zan standing guard outside handed him a small envelope. “A servant brought this a short time ago. He said that he had heard you were here.” Ialu took it with a nod and began walking down the broad roofed passageway that led to the Yojeh’s quarters. It was empty, and the stillness of the summer evening hung heavy in the air. He stopped and leaned against the handrail as he opened the letter, then stared at his fingers. They were trembling. Surely not … He had been plagued by chills during his interview with Damiya, but now he broke into a cold sweat. There must have been something in the halaku. He closed his eyes. So he knows … Opening his eyes, he tore the letter open with his teeth and spread it out with shaking fingers. It was from the man he had ordered to investigate Damiya. The message said only that he was waiting in the east stable. Shoving the letter into his robe, Ialu stepped through an opening in the rails and entered the garden. His ears seemed to be plugged with throbbing metal. A dull ringing swelled slowly in his brain. With his left hand, he pulled off the decorative sash that hung around his shoulders while with his right, he removed the dagger from the sheath at his back. He wrapped his right fist, dagger and all, with the sash and, clamping one end between his teeth, tied it tightly. He let that arm hang loosely at his side and began cutting through the forest to the stables. Although he tried to move quietly, twigs and branches caught at his arms and legs, cracking noisily. The trembling must be making me stagger, he thought. The moon was full. The thin shadows of the trees cast a dark net on the ground through which Ialu walked doggedly. At last he came to a break in the trees and stumbled out into a wide grassy area. He had reached the east stable. The moonlight gave the night sky a yellowish tinge and cast a pale glow over the grassy field, as if it were covered with frost. The stable roof was fringed with light, while the building beneath it sank into blackness. The scene seemed to warp and waver in Ialu’s eyes. The ringing in his head intensified, interfering with his ability to discern the presence of any enemies. All he could hear was the incessant stomping of the horses in their stalls. Breathing shallowly, he placed his hand on the door and pulled it open, leaning his weight against it. In the light of the moon shining through the stable window, he glimpsed a man lying facedown on the floor with his hands tied behind his back. As he stepped across the threshold, Ialu swung his right hand out suddenly. A scream erupted from a man who had been lurking beside the door. The man’s blood spurted across Ialu’s back as he dropped to one knee to evade a sword blow from the left. Swinging his right arm in a horizontal arc, he slashed open the thigh of the man wielding the sword. Though roaring with pain, the man swung the sword upward. Ialu could see the blow coming but could not avoid it. He barely managed to turn his head as the blade pierced his chest between his collarbone and his shoulder. There was a thud as it struck his collarbone, and the impact shuddered through him, followed seconds later by searing pain. Still on one knee, Ialu fell forward, thrusting his dagger into the man’s belly. There was a sickening sensation in his hand as his blade pierced the man’s clothing and sank deep into his flesh. Without uttering a sound, the man dropped his sword and fell, grasping Ialu’s sword arm in both hands. Ialu fell with him, eyes closed and nostrils filled with the stench of blood and entrails, which spilled from the twitching body. When the man finally lay still, Ialu opened his eyes. His breath came in shallow gasps as he pulled his dagger from the man’s stomach. Then he dragged himself over to his fallen comrade. He was still alive. A slit of eye glittered as he raised his swollen lids. Through cracked and bleeding lips, he croaked, “I’m … sorry…” Breathing raggedly, Ialu sawed at the ropes, his blade sticky with blood. “No,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.” He pushed himself against the man to turn him faceup. “Can you get up by yourself?” The man nodded. He raised himself and hunched over, cradling his abdomen. “Take a minute to rest. Then get out of here … Find somewhere to hide, and don’t move until you’re sure it’s safe.” Ialu placed his left hand on the man’s shoulder and, clenching his teeth, stood up. Using his teeth and one hand, he removed the sash wrapped around his right fist and shook the dagger from his hand. Then he untied the sash at his waist. Perhaps because of the drug, he felt the pain of his wound only dully, as if he were numb, but blood flowed down his side and soaked his clothes. He took the letter he had received from inside his robe, folded it in half, and pressed it against the wound. Then, using the same method as before, he wound his belt around his shoulders to tie the paper securely in place. Staggering to one of the stalls, he slipped inside. The horse reared away from him, eyes wide with fright, but he spoke softly until it settled. He was shaking so badly he could not saddle it, but he managed to clamber astride, using an upturned tub retrieved from a corner of the stall to stand on. “Where will you go?” his comrade asked hoarsely, but he did not answer. It was all he could do to wrench himself back from the brink of oblivion. He turned his horse’s head north as he left the stable. There was only one place he could think of where someone might take him in, although he doubted that he would be able to make it even that far … It was half a toh away, but right now it seemed like it would take forever. At this time of night, if he followed the forest around the palace, he might make it without being seen. Pain jolted his body with every step. Using this to keep him conscious, he clung to his horse and vanished into the moonlit forest. 6 THE FUGITIVE Alu’s eyes glittered in the light of the lantern that hung from the post. Unlike Leelan and Eku, who were already sleeping, he was wide awake and appeared still ready to play. He had shot up in height and was now as tall as Leelan when Elin had first met her. He was also at the peak of his need for affection and attention. He just could not stay still, even while Elin was combing his fur with a horse brush. Being with Alu brought back the warm bond she had once shared with Leelan. Even though she told herself it was just an illusion, his affectionate behavior warmed her heart. “Be still, will you? The brush will get caught in the tangles.” As she chided Alu in a hushed voice, Eku suddenly raised his head. Leelan looked up, too, and stared at the stable entrance. Turning, Elin saw someone leaning against the doorframe. In the dim light of the lantern, she recognized his face and gasped. “Ialu?” The sight startled her. It was as if the man who had battled the Toda on the ship had leaped through time to appear at her door. Once her confusion had passed, however, the oddness of his appearance hit her. Sweat plastered his hair to his head, and his clothes were wet with blood. His face was ghastly pale, and his eyes were glazed. Elin dropped the brush and ran to him. His eyes were open, but she could tell that they saw nothing. As she put an arm around him, he crumpled, as though a string had been cut. His knees buckled, and his head knocked against her shoulder. She almost fell as his full weight bore down upon her. Holding him up, she staggered toward the wall, where she laid him gently down on the wool blanket she had spread out for her bed. He did not open his eyes, even when she lowered him to the floor. He had used his belt as a tourniquet, and his robe fell open, exposing his abdomen. Elin undid the strings that held his collar closed and carefully explored for wounds. Despite his blood-drenched clothes, his only injury was the one he had bandaged himself. Elin bit her lip. If she were at Kazalumu, she would have had everything she needed to treat him, but here, she did not yet know her way around. And she hesitated to ask anyone for help. Why had he come here if he was this badly hurt? She sighed. It would do no good to waste time thinking. She had better treat him as best she could under the circumstances. Using her fingernails, she slowly pried loose the piece of paper, which was now as stiff as a thin board. Ialu groaned, and Elin stopped, but he did not open his eyes. She began again, gently peeling back the paper to reveal an ugly gash. He must have been stabbed with a very sharp blade, for the single stroke had penetrated deeply. It had missed any large veins, but had it struck only a fraction to the right, it would have severed the artery in his neck, and he would not have survived. He was a lucky man. But the wound would not heal on its own. It would need stitches. She frowned. She could probably get a needle and thread, but how was she to sterilize the wound? Leelan, probably disturbed by the smell of blood, began to growl. The sound sparked an idea in Elin’s mind. Of course! Tokujisui … Tokujisui contained atsune root, which acted as a disinfectant. As this was a Royal Beast sanctuary, each stable was bound to have the ingredients on hand. She rose and went to the sleeping quarters, where she asked the caretaker for a needle and thread. Then she returned to the stable and found a bottle of atsune root extract on a shelf in the shed outside. Bearing these, she hurried back to Ialu’s side. The atsune extract must have stung, because when she poured it over his wound, Ialu cried and swung out his arm, barely missing her nose. She grasped his right hand. “Ialu,” she said. “Don’t move!” Pressing his arm down with her knee, she slapped his cheek. He opened his eyes slightly, but they were unfocused. “Can you hear me?” Elin asked. “Don’t move! It’s dangerous.” His eyes slowly came into focus, and she saw a light gleam within. “Ialu, do you hear me? Answer me if you can.” He blinked as though with a great effort. She brought her face close to his ear and said slowly and clearly, “I’m going to sew up your wound. It will hurt, but please don’t move … Do you understand? Nod your head if you do.” He gave the barest of nods. She sterilized the needle and thread, and began to sew. With only one hand, it was much harder than she had expected and seemed to take forever. Yet Ialu gritted his teeth and bore it without a whimper. Stitching up a man was very different from stitching up a Beast; the whole time she worried about how much pain she was causing him. She must have been holding her breath, because when she finished, her forehead was beaded with sweat, and silver specks of light flickered before her eyes. Realizing that she was about to faint, she put her head between her knees and stayed still for some time. When the ringing in her ears had faded and her dizziness had passed, Ialu was lying limply with his eyes closed, unresponsive to her voice. She took his pulse, then relaxed. His heart was beating regularly. A wave of relief washed through her, followed quickly by a rush of fatigue. Perhaps because she had slept so little the night before, it took a supreme effort just to stay sitting. It was as if her body were being sucked down into the bowels of the earth. She forced herself to reach out and cover Ialu with the blanket. Then she lay down beside him and instantly fell asleep, unaware that she had even closed her eyes. Ialu woke abruptly, just as the night was paling to dawn. The pain, which had never left him even while he slept, became acute. For a moment, he did not know where he was or why he hurt so badly, but as he gazed up at the pale blue glow beyond the window near the ceiling, the events of the previous night came back, one by one. He heard someone breathing gently in his ear. Turning his head slowly, he saw Elin’s sleeping face next to his. Although in the dim predawn light he could make out neither eyes nor mouth, the touch of her breath upon his cheek sent a sharp sadness through his chest—a pang of the agonizing grief that he had locked away at the age of fifteen or sixteen when he had first understood the cruel meaning of the oath he had been forced to swear as a child. Before he could stop them, tears pricked his eyes and welled from the corners. For a long time, he lay staring at the vague outline of Elin’s face. Elin sat up, startled by the menacing growls of the adult Beasts. Leaping to her feet, she went and peered out the door. Several figures were moving through the morning mist, heading purposefully toward the stable. “Have they come after me?” Ialu whispered, sitting up. “Yes.” She ran back to his side and, grabbing his arm, helped him to his feet. If he tried to escape, they would surely catch him. But there was no place for him to hide in the stable either, and the bloodstains on the blanket made it impossible to deny that he had been here. She turned and looked at Leelan, then made up her mind. “Leelan, hide him!” A light gleamed in Leelan’s eyes, as if she were remembering something. With her left hand useless, Elin could not support Ialu and still use her Silent Whistle, but that was a risk she would have to take. There was no time to lose. “Trust me,” she whispered. “And don’t make a sound.” With one hand she opened the stall gate, then she half carried Ialu between the Beasts. Eku and Leelan raised their hackles, but moved to one side and let them through. As soon as she had lowered Ialu gently to the floor and covered his body with straw, the Beasts sat back down where they had been before. Elin was stroking Alu, who was mewling anxiously, when she heard the sound of running feet. Several men appeared at the doorway. Behind them came Damiya. The first man through turned to him with a triumphant expression, like a hound who has caught the scent of its prey. “There’s blood on this blanket!” Damiya strolled inside, glanced at the blanket, and then looked at Elin. “Where’s Ialu?” Elin stared at him, her face bloodless. Her chest felt as stiff as a board and it was hard to breathe. “I don’t know,” she answered finally. Damiya smiled. “There’s no use hiding him. It’s all too obvious that he was here.” Breathing shallowly, Elin kept silent, watching the men as they searched every corner of the stable. At last they said, “He’s not here.” “Search outside,” Damiya ordered. “He can’t have gone far.” The men left, but Damiya remained behind. He stared at Elin, though he gave no clue as to what he was thinking. Unable to stand the silence any longer, she whispered, “What did he do?” “He killed two gatekeepers,” Damiya said, without moving his gaze from her face. His voice hit her like a shock of cold water. “Why would he do that?” she murmured. He shrugged. “That’s why we’re looking for him. To find out. If you would answer truthfully, you could save us a lot of trouble, you know.” Elin was not a good liar, and Damiya was very shrewd. She did not think she could lie to him and get away with it. Terrified that even this thought might show on her face, she remained silent. Damiya continued to regard her carefully, but finally he smiled again. “Do you like him, then?” He ignored her failure to respond and continued in a quiet voice. “It’s of no consequence really. If you wish to protect him, go ahead. It just means I have one more chain with which to bind you. There’s nothing more that he can do now anyway.” He rested a hand on a post and sighed. “The poor man. Not even I am made privy to where each Se Zan comes from, so I don’t know his origins. But I do know that all of them were sold by their parents for a bag full of gold. That’s the kind of family he comes from. “He was sworn to solitude before he was old enough to understand, and he has lived solely to shield the Yojeh ever since. That’s the only life he knows. It’s the kind of job no man could bear without at least seeking solace among the prostitutes, yet he’s so serious, they say he never dallies with women.” He raised his eyes to look outside the window. “It would not do for a man like that to look at the narrowness of his world, and especially not for someone as smart as he. Once he did, he’d no longer be able to endure the suffocating closeness.” His smile faded, and his expression turned serious. “Elin, you’re an intelligent girl. If you but chose, you could see the structure of this world in its entirety, couldn’t you? Then do so. So that you can judge what can and cannot be, and accept your fate accordingly.” With that, he turned and left. 7 WINDY NIGHT Elin slipped her arm under Ialu and helped him to a sitting position. He bowed his head. “I’m sorry to cause you so much trouble.” She shook her head and brushed the straw from his hair and clothes, then helped him over to her blanket. Little by little, he told her what had happened the previous night. It did not surprise her to learn that Damiya was likely behind the attack on the Yojeh Halumiya; the knowledge merely increased the cold revulsion she already felt for him. But she wished that she had never heard of the plot conceived by those in power. When she thought of how it had twisted the lives of herself and so many others, she felt sick with anger. Ialu’s clothes were so stained with blood they seemed to be coated in glue. She helped him undress and wrapped him in her blanket, then placed his clothes in a tub and filled it with water. “I’ll go get some breakfast,” she said. Ialu nodded, and she added suddenly, “Please don’t try to leave here out of concern for me.” “I won’t. Damiya is probably having the stable watched. He seems to have hired his own private army.” Elin nodded and left. For the rest of the day, armed men patrolled the area around the stable. None of them, however, attempted to enter, perhaps under Damiya’s orders. The Beast Handlers of Lazalu were somewhat wary of Elin, and they did not interfere when she chose to take her meals to the stable and even sleep there with the Beasts. Thus, Ialu was able to spend the entire day resting in the stable. He lay alone in the muggy building from early afternoon when Leelan and the others went out to nap in the sun. Smoke from a mosquito smudge drifted lazily in the air. His sleep was disturbed by feverish dreams, but by the evening, he was feeling much better and shared Elin’s supper of gravy and fahko, the unleavened bread made with mixed grains. As soon as she had finished eating, Elin rose and began feeding the Beasts. Watching her, Ialu was struck by how much thinner and more careworn she looked than he remembered. It was not so long since they had met in Kazalumu, yet she seemed like a different person. He had heard that Leelan had bitten her left hand, which she cradled as she fed the Beasts, and the expression on her face was that of someone who had left her soul behind. “You still feed them by going inside the cage, then, do you?” he murmured. She turned, as if startled by the sound of his voice. “I have my Silent Whistle.” “Even so, the other Handlers never feed them like that. And the Beasts seem completely relaxed with you.” Her eyes shone, but she said nothing. “Deep inside, they must trust you … I still can’t believe they actually hid me.” At that, her smile deepened. “When I was a student, there was one teacher I just couldn’t stand. Whenever I saw him coming, I used to get Leelan to hide me like that.” Ialu smiled. “Even so, I’m amazed that they accepted me. They didn’t even growl, despite the fact that they don’t know me.” “They didn’t growl at you because…” Elin paused and glanced at the Beasts. “They could see that I trusted you. Royal Beasts are able to sense human emotions to a frightening degree.” Eku and Leelan began grooming their fur. Elin and Ialu watched them silently for some time in the dim candlelight. Finally Ialu spoke in a soft voice. “Is that why the Royal Beast didn’t respond to Ohooli’s harp? Did it sense his fear?” Elin turned to him with a look of surprise. “You knew about that?” “The Se Zan who guarded Damiya told me.” “I see…” She returned her gaze to the Beasts. “That may have been part of it … But I think the main reason was that Ohooli was the one who raised him.” Ialu looked at her questioningly. Elin picked up an empty tub and stepped out of the stall. “If Ohooli raised that Beast, he must have used the Silent Whistle on him many times. The Beasts hate what it does to them … Would you lower your guard if someone who had beaten you repeatedly suddenly switched to a coaxing tone? I’m sure that that’s how the Beasts would feel. They would have a hard time opening their hearts to someone who had used the whistle to control them.” She took Ialu’s clothes off the railing where she had draped them and pressed them against her cheek to test whether they were dry; then she sat down beside him and helped him dress. Her smile was gone. Holding his robe to make it easier for him to slip his arm into his sleeve, she said quietly, “When we use the Silent Whistle to raise Royal Beasts, we build a cold wall between them and us—cold but necessary.” She uttered these last words as if speaking to herself. Watching her face, so close to his own, Ialu suddenly said, “Are you planning to die?” He plowed on before she could answer. “Do you plan to die and take with you the knowledge of how to control the Royal Beasts, so that you can seal it away forever?” Elin shook her head. “Until a short while ago, yes…” she whispered. “I planned to do that. But now, no, I don’t.” The wind must have picked up. Ialu could hear the rustling of the leaves in the trees beside the stable. “For a long time,” Elin said in a low voice, “I believed I could always avert a catastrophe if I died—that I must never cross that line beyond which a disaster could no longer be prevented. I didn’t want to use the Silent Whistle or tokujisui to raise Leelan or the others, and so I did as I pleased, regardless of what anyone said. In return, when the time came, I planned to take responsibility for this choice. But after hearing you describe Damiya’s scheme … I just don’t care anymore. “If that’s the way people think and the path they choose, then let them. If it’s simply human nature to maintain the status quo by killing each other, then even if I sacrifice my life and bury the Art with me, someday the same thing is bound to happen all over again. If humans are just going to destroy themselves anyway, why not let them…” This savage thought must have lurked deep inside her for a long time, because when she voiced it, she knew it came from the core of her being. Yet even voicing it did not ease the fury she felt in her heart. A warm breeze blew through the open window, making the lantern flicker. “But I don’t want to make the Royal Beasts fight the Toda,” she said. “Not ever.” The thought that her dream, everything she had aimed for, should be twisted and exploited in such a despicable way made her burn inside. She gazed at Ialu. “There’s something I wanted to ask you, if we ever met again.” Ialu blinked. “Me?” “Yes. I want to know your thoughts. If I performed this so-called miracle, do you think it could actually right the imbalance in this country?” Ialu hesitated for a moment. Gazing up through the window at the indigo sky, he said in a low voice, “To be honest, until now I have avoided thinking about what would be best for this country. Having taken an oath as a Se Zan, my paramount duty was to protect the Yojeh. If I thought about the consequences of protecting her, it would cause me to doubt my actions. In that sense, Damiya hit the mark. I have deliberately avoided looking at the narrowness of the world in which I live.” Thoughts unexpectedly thrust themselves into his mind and fell from his mouth. “He spoke of my family with scorn, but my father was a skilled carpenter. If he had not been crushed beneath a building in an earthquake, my mother would never have sold me. If my father had lived, I would have become a carpenter like him. My hand would have held a chisel, not a weapon meant for killing.” His mouth crooked in a smile, and he looked at Elin. “I enjoy working with wood. When I’m off duty, I like to make furniture. I find it much more relaxing to throw myself into a project like that than to spend time with prostitutes, who hide their brutal sorrow behind a mask.” His face glowed indistinctly in the wavering light. In her mind, Elin could see his hands caressing the results of his handiwork. She was suddenly reminded of the Toda. Captured as hatchlings, they had their ear flaps removed and were kept only to fight. Now she could understand why her mother had watched them with such sorrow in her eyes. “Still, I have seen the workings of government close at hand,” he continued, “which is something I would never have done if I were a carpenter. And I’m human. No matter how hard I may try to control my mind, I can’t help thinking about the meaning of what I see and hear. “When Shunan, the Aluhan’s eldest son, visited the Yojeh the other day, his words moved me. I thought that what he said made sense. And when the Yojeh said that she had no warriors to protect her, I confess, my heart went cold. I could not help wondering what my existence meant to her.” He told her briefly what Shunan had said and done. As she listened to him describe Shunan’s character, a light kindled in her eyes. “I see,” she murmured when he was done. “So the Aluhan’s eldest son is someone who cares.” Ialu nodded. “If he had wanted, he could have forced her to yield. The fact that he chose a different method suggests he has compassion. He also has resolve. If he marries Seimiya, he will certainly try to show her the reality of this land, something she has never confronted before.” He took a deep breath. “I have killed many men. I slew my first assassin the year I turned eighteen. All winter, whether waking or sleeping, his death throes flashed before my eyes. Even now, the men I have killed come to me in my dreams. The smell of their blood still clings to my nostrils. I expect that I’ll be haunted by such apparitions for the rest of my life, but I have no intention of trying to escape that fate. That’s what it means to kill. Those soldiers who have defended this country for generations through bloody wars must have experienced the same thing.” He wiped his face with one large hand and said, “I can’t believe that it is right for the ruler not to know this truth.” The wind must have died down a little, for the sound of the branches scraping against the wall grew fainter. “It would be presumptuous of me to assume that I understood her mind, but I feel Lady Seimiya would not want to remain ignorant. While the facts about Damiya and about her own bloodline seem very cruel, I think that she should be told … I do not think it should be allowed to go on like this.” Quiet filled the stable when he finished speaking. Elin sat for some moments thinking, her face down. Finally, she raised her head and looked at him. “Is there any way of speaking to Her Highness without Damiya intruding?” Ialu’s eyes widened. She gazed back at him, unblinking. “I want to tell her … all of it. I don’t know if that will change anything, but I must try.” Ialu stroked his chin and thought. After what seemed a very long time, he returned his gaze to Elin. “There is a way … For you, it might work.” 8 ORIGINS The natural rock cavern was always filled with steam from a hot spring deep inside. Unglazed clay pipes carried hot water from the spring to a large bathing pool built of smooth stones. The bathing hour was the one time of day when Seimiya could truly relax. Garbed in a single light robe, she sank into the hot pool and gazed at the glistening rock surface, which reflected the hazy glow of the light through the mist. Soaking in the hot water like this always brought back the peace she had once felt in her mother’s arms. During winter, powdery flakes of snow would stray through the hole in the ceiling where it widened, but thanks to the hot steam, she never felt cold. Her favorite times were those evenings when she could see the full moon through the hole, which she liked to call the “skylight,” and when it was covered on rainy days, she felt like something was missing. The steam gathering above the pool rose like a shimmering white pillar through the opening. She was gazing at it, mesmerized, when suddenly it broke and scattered, as if blown by a strong wind. Seeking the cause, she lifted her eyes and saw a huge dark shape swoop down from the skylight. With each beat of its great wings, the mist rolled back and waves rippled across the milky water of the pool, far back into the cave. A Royal Beast landed and folded its wings. As a small figure slipped from its back, the cave echoed with the frightened screams of the maidservants. A woman’s voice rang through the mist. “Your Highness, Yojeh Seimiya! Forgive me this impertinence. I mean you no harm. I had no choice but to come like this in order to speak with you.” Seimiya heard the voices of the Se Zan at the entrance to the cave asking what was wrong. They must have heard her servants’ cries. With her eyes still on the Royal Beast, she said sternly, “Cease your noise. Tell the Se Zan to remain outside.” Then she sat up straight and called out to the figure who knelt on the other side of the mist. “Are you the beast doctor they call Elin?” “Yes, I am Elin. I beg you to pardon my rudeness.” “You may approach.” The shadowy figure touched her forehead to the floor and then stood up. Turning to the Beast, she said something in a quiet voice, and then walked around the bathing pool toward Seimiya. The light of a lantern set in the rock wall fell upon her face, and Seimiya stared at her with open curiosity. “So your eyes really are green.” The words must have fallen from her mouth involuntarily, for she spoke like a little girl, without formality. Elin knelt down before her and bowed low once again. “I had to speak with Your Highness. That is why I came.” Having recovered from her initial surprise, Seimiya softened her expression. “I hear that you have been blessed by the Afon with a rare gift. Damiya told me that the Afon sent you to rescue me from this crisis. I intended to summon you very soon to meet me. You would have been granted an audience easily. There was no need to go to such lengths as this.” Elin raised her head. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I was forbidden explicitly by Lord Damiya to seek an audience with you. That is why I had no other way of meeting you.” Seimiya’s eyes widened slightly. “By my uncle? But why?” Elin gazed at her. “I believe he did so because he feared that I would share with you the wishes of the late Yojeh Halumiya.” Seimiya’s eyes froze. Hard as stone, they were fixed on Elin, but they did not see her. After a long silence, she said, “You wish to convey to me the words of my grandmother, is that it?” “Yes, but that is not all. Forgive me, Your Highness, but are you aware of the promise that Her Majesty Halumiya made to me?” “No, I do not know. What is it that she promised you?” Elin answered quietly. “She told me that I need not use the Royal Beast to protect her. Even though she knew she might be attacked again by Toda Riders.” It was clear from Seimiya’s expression that this statement had caught her completely off guard. Elin guessed that she must have been expecting a very different answer. “She refused the protection of the Royal Beast?” “Yes.” “Why?” “I believe because she judged my tale to be true.” “What tale?” “The tale engraved on the hearts of my mother’s people and passed down from one generation to the next. Her Highness Halumiya accepted it as the history of her ancestor that was lost in the fire.” Taking a deep breath, Elin continued. “It is a tale that took place far beyond the Afon Noah and that must cause one to despair of the human race. It is the story of your ancestor, too, Your Highness. Are you willing to listen?” Seimiya stared at Elin with a frown before she finally spoke. “Tell me,” she said. Elin nodded, and began the tale told to her in that winter forest by the man who had come from her mother’s people, a story from long, long ago. Once, there were many ancient kingdoms that flourished far beyond the white peaks of the Afon Noah. One of these was the land called Ofahlon. Although small, it was blessed with a good port and prospered as a strategic trading post between the surrounding kingdoms and the lands that lay beyond the sea. Its people never went hungry. One day, however, rumors reached the king’s ears that the ruler of a neighboring kingdom was planning to invade, to gain control over this profitable trade. While Ofahlon was prosperous, it was small. It might not survive even three months in the face of such an invasion. As the king pondered what to do to save his land, Sakolu, a senior advisor responsible for the diverse ethnic groups in the kingdom, suggested that he ask the Toga mi Lyo for help. The Toga mi Lyo, the Green-Eyed Ones, had originally come from across the sea. Driven from their own land after losing a struggle for power, they had found their way to Ofahlon with only three ships. As they excelled at handling and healing beasts, the kings of previous generations had showered their favors upon them, granting them land within the capital to build their own community. Sakolu informed the king that they had been taming wild Toda and training them for battle. While the king doubted that Toda could be of much help, he was desperate, and so he asked the Toga mi Lyo to protect the country’s borders. The results far surpassed even the expectations of the Toga mi Lyo. Although they rode only a few score Toda to battle against thousands of horsemen, they decimated the enemy troops and slew their general. The king was overjoyed at this victory. He awarded the Toga mi Lyo a large tract of land and ample gold. He commanded them to increase the number of Toda and appointed Sakolu general of the Toda troops. This was the beginning of the tragedy to come. Tens of thousands of Toda were trained, and with this overpowering force, the king soon conquered the surrounding lands. His power had reached its zenith, but the discontent of the conquered who now lived within this expanded kingdom grew. The king, who had never ruled such a large territory, had no idea how to govern it. He tried to suppress his subjects by force alone, which was like trying to seal a seething bog of rot and decay under a thick metal plate. When they saw the miserable condition of the people, Sakolu and the Toga mi Lyo were overcome with remorse. They had used the Toda to save the king, but the country that had once welcomed people of all races had vanished, replaced by an empire founded on tyranny and oppression. Sakolu, with the Toga mi Lyo, lit the beacon of rebellion. The king did not stand a chance against an army that could bend the Toda to its will. Protected by a few vassals, he fled with his family and close kin, deep into the rugged ravines of the Afon Noah, narrowly escaping the pursuing Toda. The fugitives, who were only about two hundred strong, spent the next decade hiding in the mountains. Having amassed the world’s wealth and become accustomed to the height of luxury, this sudden fall to a life of destitution and exile, where not even their next meal was certain, sowed a bitterness in their hearts. Resentment served as the bread that sustained them through ten long years of cruel cold and hunger. When they first ventured into the mountains, they came upon a race of hunters—tall, stately people who lived in the mountain ravines and hunted with huge winged beasts. Their leader was a man, but their spiritual guide was a young woman. One day, the son of the exiled king witnessed an incredible sight. Winged beasts fell upon a pack of Toda, ripped them apart with their claws, and devoured them as if they were no more than sacrificial offerings. When he heard this tale, the king visited the head of the hunters with a proposal. “If you raise an army of winged beasts and help us regain our country, I will make you rulers over that land.” His hatred ran so deep that he was willing to trade his sovereignty to avenge the loss of his kingdom. The head of the hunters rejected this offer. “We are content with what we have,” he said. “We do not need a kingdom.” The priestess, however, thought differently. She was still very young. Here was the chance to be freed from spending half the year snowbound in the mountains, a chance to live in Ofahlon, a great and shining land of which they had only heard stories … Perhaps it was not greed but a dream that drove her. Still, the choice she made set the stage for a great catastrophe. The king’s offer, she claimed, was a sign from the gods. She gathered the young people around her to train the Royal Beasts, so named by the king of Ofahlon. Within a decade, they had created an army two thousand strong. In the deep midwinter, when snow clouds darkened the heavens, two thousand Royal Beasts flew concealed within the clouds, each bearing a golden-eyed warrior dreaming of a kingdom in the sun, or a member of the royal family with hatred carved in his bones. Over the mountains they flew and fell upon Ofahlon. The battle between Toda and Royal Beast was indeed a massacre. Once the slaughter began, the Toda and the Royal Beasts, natural foes, became so crazed with blood that they ignored the commands of their riders and, in a frenzy of tooth and claw, trampled over field, shore, and hill, through the villages and towns, until nothing was left but a blood-soaked wasteland. The slaughter did not end until the capital had been engulfed in a sea of flame, and everything had been utterly destroyed. When the battle ended, all that lay before the young woman, who had dreamed of a kingdom filled with glorious sunshine, was the sight of the torn limbs and members of countless corpses stretching as far as the eye could see, and the burning, crumbling city belching black smoke into the air. No trace of the kingdom remained. If it had been an ordinary battle, only soldiers would have died. But with the addition of two thousand Royal Beasts and tens of thousands of Toda, an entire empire had been reduced to ashes. Thus was the kingdom that flourished far beyond the Afon Noah destroyed. The land, contaminated by the blood and gore of countless dead, was cursed. No country ever prospered there again, and it remained covered by a thick forest where no man dared to venture. Elin finished speaking. For a long while after, Seimiya and her maids sat as if in a daze. Seimiya had come out of the water to sit on a stone at the edge of the pool. Now she shivered suddenly, as if with a chill, and slipped back into the hot water. Elin shifted her knees, trying to ease her body, and said, “The few who survived scattered in all directions. The Toga Mi Lyo sealed away their knowledge of how to control the beasts, believing that it would only bring disaster. They chose to wander in exile to the end of time, living by a strict set of laws so that this tragedy would never be repeated. These are my mother’s people, the Ao-Loh, the People of the Law, who are known as the Ahlyo.” Hugging her thin shoulders, Seimiya whispered, “And my ancestor?…” Looking straight into her eyes, Elin said quietly, “The tall hunters with the golden eyes, tamers of the Royal Beasts, refused to let the young woman who had led her people to such terrible destruction return to her homeland in the ravines … Her name was Jeh. She was your ancestor, the one who crossed the Afon Noah to become the divine ancestor of this land.” The maidservants paled at the implication of what they had just heard, but Seimiya did not appear to be surprised. In fact, she was gazing at Elin with a puzzled look. “Do you expect me to believe that?” she asked quietly. “You don’t?” Seimiya burst out laughing. “Of course not. I think it rather incredible that my grandmother would believe it either.” Elin remained silent, staring at her. Her skin, which was as smooth as porcelain, had a delicate flush, perhaps from the warmth of the bath. She’s so young, Elin thought. She had heard that Seimiya was two years older than her, but she did not look anywhere near older than twenty. She could understand Damiya’s desire to protect the kingdom’s sovereignty by keeping her ignorant, as if wrapping her in silk floss. But I think he’s underestimating her … Elin was almost sure that she was not as fragile as she appeared. Deep within her round, childlike eyes, Elin could see a mature and objective gaze. “Why would I need to make up such a story?” Elin asked. Seimiya smiled coldly. “That is exactly what I have been trying to decide. If, for example, you were in league with Ialu, and if he, in turn, were in league with the Aluhan, then it would make sense.” Elin was startled. That was, she realized, one possible interpretation. Seimiya’s smile deepened. She had not missed the slight quiver in Elin’s eyes. “Who told you that you could meet me if you came when I was having my bath?… Who else could have but Ialu?” Angered by her accusing tone and cold smile, Elin opened her mouth to protest, but at that moment, she heard the hard sound of claws scraping against stone. Seimiya and her maids looked past her with startled expressions and half rose to their feet. Turning, Elin saw Leelan poised to enter the pool. “Leelan! No!” she said sharply. Leelan stopped with one paw hovering over the water. “It’s hot, not cold.” She said it again. Leelan brought her snout close to the edge of the pool and then gave up trying to get in. Seimiya shook her head and laughed. “Amazing. She responds to you just like a child.” Still looking at Leelan, Elin said, “Sometimes her behavior does appear childlike, but Royal Beasts are fearsome creatures with much deeper intelligence than a child.” Seimiya looked at her. “She understands what you say, doesn’t she? How much can you understand one another?” “We can tell each other what we want,” Elin said, her fathomless gaze still on the Beast. “But … even if we can communicate what we want, there is still a gap between us that we can never, ever bridge. The world we see, what we feel, are completely different. For Leelan, there is only the present. I was never able to convey to her the concept of ‘tomorrow.’ In addition…” Leelan must have sensed that Elin was talking about her, for she was watching her intently. “Leelan thinks nothing of slaughtering Toda. For her, it is merely a natural impulse to kill those creatures that try to steal her young.” Slowly, she turned her eyes to Seimiya. “But I do not want to use Leelan as a tool to kill Toda. I did not spend all these years raising her and nurturing this bond by which we communicate in order for her to become a convenient tool. “I hate seeing the Royal Beasts bound by the Silent Whistle and living as if their souls have been snatched away. A Beast that is given to the Yojeh can never return to the wild. Even so, I hoped at least to set them free from the invisible chains that bind them. Yet instead…” Rage surged inside her, and she gripped her knees tightly, staring at Seimiya. “If I make Leelan perform a miracle on Tahai Azeh, far from freeing the Beasts, I will be binding them with even thicker chains. If my teacher had not been taken hostage, I would never have consented to this farce, even on pain of death.” Shock ran through Seimiya’s eyes. “What did you say? Your teacher?” “Lord Damiya told me that if I refused to play the part of a divine miracle, he would kill my teacher.” Elin’s voice was rough with anger. “I was not sent to you by the Afon. I am forced to be here by a dirty threat.” The blood drained from Seimiya’s face. An emotion akin to sorrow stirred in Elin’s breast at the sight, and her face twisted, but still she plowed on. “Even if I use her as a weapon to slaughter the Toda, I doubt that Leelan will feel any pain at all. It is I, not Leelan, who will suffer.” The light from the candles in the rock wall wavered in a puff of warm air. “The reason I hate using the Royal Beasts in this way has nothing to do with the tale I told you. It is not for the sake of my mother’s people, nor for the sake of this country. It is just that I can see, as plain as day, the net woven by the actions of men, a net that Leelan can neither see nor feel … And being forced to play a role within this treacherous plot makes me sick.” Something fierce crossed Seimiya’s pale face. Wordlessly, she stared at Elin, who returned her gaze steadily. Seimiya felt something within her fade to ashes and begin to crumble. Something that must not crumble, something that, should it disintegrate, could never be retrieved and would vanish forever. Yet, despite the hollow emptiness within, she was still the ruler. Feeling a deep lethargy sink into her bones, she gazed blankly into space. “I, too…” she whispered. “I, too, can see the mesh of that net woven by the actions of men. Yet I will never, ever be permitted to say that being forced to play a role within it is so repulsive it makes me ill.” Elin stared at her, as if stunned. “If what you say is true, Jeh was a foolish woman.” Seimiya smiled thinly. “Even though she was expelled from her homeland, she couldn’t give up her ambition to rule the world.” Her lips trembled, and Elin averted her gaze. “It was a long time ago,” Elin said. “Who can guess what it was like to arrive in this strange land after leaving her home far behind? But, personally, I think that she was sincerely searching, walking a tightrope through her pain and doubt, to build a nation where neither men nor beasts would suffer.” “Why do you think so?” “Because, while on the one hand she used the Royal Beasts as a symbol of sovereignty, on the other, she wrote the Royal Beast Canon.” Elin shifted her gaze to Leelan. “My Lady Seimiya, is not Leelan very different from the other Beasts?” Seimiya’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Leelan. The Beast’s wings, damp with steam, sparkled in the glow of the lantern. “Well, yes. In fact, I have never seen a Royal Beast as beautiful. And isn’t she the one that bore a cub? A miracle in itself.” “Yes.” Elin nodded. “The Royal Beasts raised in the sanctuary never fly, never mate, and never bear young.” Seimiya frowned and looked at her. She knew this, yet hearing it said like that, she suddenly realized just how unnatural it was. “Why?” “Because they were raised in accordance with the Beast Canon. Surely you know that it was your ancestor who wrote the Canon. Those who raise the Beasts are strictly required to follow its tenets. But Leelan here…” A memory from long ago, of Leelan as a cub, her eyes gleaming in the darkness as she gnawed at her fur, came rushing back. “She was wounded, both physically and emotionally, by the arrow loosed at Her Majesty Halumiya’s birthday celebration. She was taken to the Kazalumu Sanctuary, and by chance, I met her and came to raise her. At the time, I was only fourteen. I knew nothing of the Beast Canon, so I decided to raise her without the Silent Whistle or tokujisui, just like Royal Beasts in the wild.” A light dawned in Seimiya’s eyes. “I see … So the Beast that was raised without following the Canon became this beautiful creature who could fly and bear young.” “Yes.” Seimiya looked at Leelan anew. “Why, then, would my ancestor make such rules?” “I believe that she did not want the Royal Beasts to multiply.” Seimiya glanced at her. It was clear from her eyes that she understood. “If she was driven by selfish motives to secure her power, she would never have made those rules. I believe that although she accepted the role of ruler to help the people on this side of the Afon Noah, this ironic turn of fate caused her much grief. She didn’t want to repeat the terrible tragedy she had caused, so instead of brute force, she used the Beasts—the appearance of which people considered a miracle—as a symbol of her divine authority to govern…” Elin sighed. “I believe she developed the Canon as a way of raising Royal Beasts without making them into weapons. To prevent them from multiplying, she used tokujisui, which inhibits them from mating, and by having their keepers use the Silent Whistle, she erected an invisible, yet impenetrable, wall between man and Beast … So that people and Beasts, which are highly communicative by nature, would never be able to share their thoughts.” For a moment, emotion gripped her throat, and she could not speak. “If I, a fourteen-year-old girl, who knew nothing of the Canon, had not met Leelan by chance—and it really was just by chance—the wishes of your ancestor would still have been followed. And Leelan and I would never have learned to communicate, would never have flown through the sky…” “… and would never have come here,” Seimiya said, finishing her sentence. They said nothing for a while. Finally, Seimiya dragged herself out of the pool and sat on the edge, gazing at Leelan. “Perhaps this, too, is the work of the gods. Don’t you think so?” Elin bit her lip as she looked at Seimiya’s delicate, doll-like figure. She wished that she could say, “Yes, perhaps you’re right.” She closed her eyes. She did not want to torture her anymore, but she just could not bring herself to lie. “No, I don’t,” she whispered. “I do not want to believe that our meeting today, which was precipitated by the death of Yojeh Halumiya, is the work of the gods.” Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and said, “To me, it looks like I am here today because of a man who tried to lay the death of Yojeh Halumiya at the Aluhan’s door, a man who has manipulated events all along to create this situation.” The blood receded from Seimiya’s cheeks. “What are you saying?” Keeping her eyes fixed steadily on Seimiya’s face, Elin explained why the Toda that attacked Halumiya could not have belonged to the Aluhan. She shared the plot that Ialu had recognized once it was clear the attack could not be the Aluhan’s doing, the facts he had uncovered through years of investigation, and the price he had paid for it. When Elin named the one person to whom all these facts led, Seimiya’s snow-white face did not move. In a low voice, she asked, “Why would he need to kill my grandmother?” “If Lady Halumiya had lived, would she have allowed you to marry him?” Seimiya did not even blink at this response … It was clear that this had already occurred to her long before. Her eyes, which glittered like shards of metal, suddenly blazed fiercely. “It’s true, my grandmother didn’t like him—but for me, he was my father, my brother, the kindest person in the world, one of the most beloved of my kin.” She closed her eyes and hugged herself. The hands with which she gripped her shoulders trembled. “Your Highness,” one of the maidservants said hesitantly, but she did not respond. For a long time she remained hugging her body. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked up. Rising, she gazed down on Elin with cold eyes. “When I stand on Tahai Azeh, stand with me, Elin … You need do nothing but watch. Let me give you that freedom—the freedom that is not mine to choose.” 9 EMPTINESS Though the moon had long since set, a faint glow still lingered in the heavens. This appeared to be enough light for Leelan, whose pupils were dilated like a cat’s; she showed no sign of searching through the darkness as she flew. They had flown over the dark forest that encircled the palace, and the Lazalu Beast Sanctuary was about to come into view when a rumbling growl began deep in Leelan’s throat. Elin looked up and saw what looked like fireflies whirling beside the Beast’s head. She heard a low buzzing, like bees’ wings vibrating, a disturbing sound that made her uneasy. The lights gathered together and dropped below. Following their descent, she saw several black shapes standing at the edge of the wood. One of them waved a small light. The phosphorescent glow faded. For a moment, Elin hesitated, but the people below were obviously summoning her, and she did not feel that she could ignore them. She touched Leelan’s cheek and pointed to the light below. Leelan began to descend. Before she had reached the ground, Elin knew who waited for her. Hooded and silent, like forest shadows, her mother’s people watched her come. Leelan growled menacingly as a hooded man raised a Silent Whistle to his lips, but Elin did not try to stop him from blowing. When Leelan did not freeze, he looked surprised. “I plugged her ears,” Elin said. “It would be a disaster if someone blew a Silent Whistle while we were in the air.” She removed Leelan’s ear flaps and slid to the ground. “Please keep your whistle at the ready, though,” she said quietly, and then looked around at the gray-cloaked figures. “What do you want with me?” One of them stepped toward her, an elder judging by her curved spine. She pushed back her hood, revealing a shock of white hair. Even in the faint light, Elin could see the woman’s startling resemblance to her mother. “Elin, daughter of Sohyon, granddaughter,” she said. “We have come to take you home. Come with us.” Elin’s skin prickled from her forehead to the nape of her neck. “Where?” she asked hoarsely. “To where your people are … If you stay here and go on like this, you’ll end up making a terrible mistake. Come and live with us.” A quiet chill spread through Elin’s chest, as if the night air were soaking into her skin. Ah … so that’s it … she thought. They had come to take her away, away from the circle of people with whom she had spent her entire life, to wander for the rest of her days with them. If she went, she could close the door before she caused a catastrophe. Yet even at that thought, her heart remained cold and unmoved. She shook her head. “I do not wish to go with you.” Sorrow and hurt flickered across her grandmother’s face, and Elin felt a stab of pain in her chest. The silent disapproval and fierce disappointment radiating from the gray hoods, the grief of countless ancestral ghosts milling in the darkness, rolled over her in a heavy, aching wave that pulled her skin tight. “Will you choose the path of sin? Will you open the door to calamity?” her grandmother demanded in a shaking voice. “Is that how you were raised?” Her eyes probed Elin’s, but when it became clear that Elin had no intention of responding, her shoulders fell, and she sighed. “I see … Sohyon’s spirit must surely regret having saved your life.” Her words shot through Elin like a lightning bolt. Fixing her eyes on her grandmother’s face, she took a deep breath. “My mother gave her life to save mine. If she were really the type to regret that act, then I would hate you for having raised her that way.” She had to force the words through clenched teeth. Her grandmother cringed, as if she had been slapped. “I know what my mother, and what you, too, call a ‘sin’ … I can understand that you have made tremendous sacrifices and adhered to the Law to avert disaster. But I despise the way you use the word ‘sin’ to manipulate others.” Feelings locked deep inside her suddenly rushed from her mouth as if a dam had been broken. “You use that word to paralyze the mind, just like we use the Silent Whistle to freeze the Beasts and Toda. I can’t bear to see people bind others like that.” A gray-hooded man stepped forward and placed a hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “Let us go,” he said in a low voice. “There is no saving her. She believes that what she feels is more important. She will not listen, no matter what you say.” Elin felt her grandmother’s eyes questioning her. Pain stung her heart, but she kept her face expressionless as a deep despair spread across her grandmother’s features. Silently, she watched as her mother’s people turned away from her with anger and loathing. The night breeze, warm and humid, blew across the empty field. Elin looked up at the sky. Stars were strewn across it like grains of silver sand. She wept, unable to dislodge the heaviness that stuck like a thick plank in her chest. Mother … Do you regret raising me this way? Is the path I am taking so wrong? Unlike Seimiya, I can choose which path to take. Since the day she had decided not to use the Silent Whistle to control Leelan, she had simply chosen the path that felt right. She had longed to raise these creatures, who were born in the wild, the same way they would have been raised if they had been left in the wild. But she had loved Leelan. She had been thrilled by the bond that grew between them as they crossed the wall that separated beast from man. She knew that she was here, now, as a result of that choice, but she just could not believe that what she had done was a sin worthy of death. Even so, the emptiness that gnawed at her chest did not fade away. Where would her love for Leelan, the tentative, step-by-step efforts she had made to get closer to her, lead her now? Had it all been for nothing, just self-gratification? Perhaps. Esalu had probably been right—the one emotion all living creatures shared was not love, but fear. This, most likely, was the hard truth. Men, beasts, all sentient beings that inhabited the planet, were incapable of trust. Somewhere in their hearts, they would always harbor the fear of others. To ensure their own survival, they would continue to devise ways to dominate and control. Only by binding each other with force, with laws, with religious precepts … and with the Silent Whistle, do we finally feel safe … No matter how hard I study the nature of living things, in the end, that’s all I will find—just this empty futility. Even if she returned to Kazalumu safely, how could she ever stand in front of a class to teach? What could she possibly say to her students if the nature of living creatures only made her feel hopeless? Humans, beasts, bugs—all are but tiny pricks gleaming in the night—a herd of countless points of light, bound in the darkness of distrust. She gazed up at the star-spangled sky as she listened to Leelan purr contentedly behind her.