The air cracked with successive explosions, and white smoke rose from the grassy field. Overhead, flowers of red and blue smoke blossomed, then stretched and faded on the wind. A thunder of applause rose from the crowd at this fine display of daytime fireworks.
Yuna, who’d jumped at the first bang and clung tearfully to Van, lifted her face and gasped when she saw the colorful smoke. “Oh! Look! Flowahs!! Flowahs bloomin’ in da sky!”
A large tournament ground had been set up in a field outside the city and now overflowed with an exuberant crowd of people from every corner of Aquafa. An enormous stand visible even from a distance stood near the city’s outer wall. In the center was a pavilion from within which the man who was the Emperor’s Eyes could observe the festivities. Governor Ohan and Yotalu and his family were permitted to sit with him. In a separate pavilion to the right, the King of Aquafa sat with his family and raised his hand occasionally to acknowledge the cheers of his people from the field.
Courses had been set up on the tournament grounds for each competition. There was an enclosure for the sheepdog trial to test the beasts’ skill and speed in herding sheep into a pen, and an obstacle course to challenge pyuika riders. Sheep and pyuika were already milling inside the waiting area, which was divided by ropes and fences. Dogs darted, barking, among the sheep, while their handlers ordered them to heel. The pyuika began to fret and prance.
“Those sheep are too close,” Tohma muttered with a click of his tongue. Chida and the others struggled to calm their animals, which shied away from the noise. One young settler was yanked forward and fell when his pyuika broke into a dash.
Van had hoisted Yuna onto his shoulders to watch the fireworks, but now he lowered her to the ground and passed her to Kiya. Leaning over the fence, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Hoh, hoh, hoh!”
The pyuika craned their necks toward him and went still. The men holding their reins looked at Van in surprise. “Cover their eyes,” he called out, laying a hand on Olaha’s neck and swiftly tying a scarf around the pyuika’s eyes to show them how it was done. Tohma and the others mimicked his movements somewhat clumsily, while Van walked among them, explaining how to calm the pyuika and when to remove the cloth. The animals calmed instantly at his touch, as though ensorcelled. The young settlers and the men from Oki grinned at Van sheepishly, thanking him in the ways of their respective peoples. Van was overcome by a strange feeling as he watched them.
Here he was, smiling and walking among flat-faced Zolian youths and young men from northern Oki, people who, for most of his life, had been distant strangers. He peered back at Yuna beaming and standing on the fence, Kiya gently smiling as she laid a hand on Yuna’s back, and Tohma and the others with cheeks flushed from excitement. A sense of kinship rose from deep inside him. Shepherds and reindeer herders, farmers who tilled the land, hunters who roamed the forests, merchants who ran the stalls in the city—they looked different, spoke different languages, and even smelled different, yet here on this plain, they were one harmonious whole.
People born and raised in this land and others from afar gazed together at the fireworks, shouting with delight as they waited eagerly for the tournament to start.
Van could distinguish each of these peoples by their scents, identifying where they were gathered without looking. Somewhere along the way, he’d come to accept his acute sense as normal. He couldn’t remember what it was like before.
I’ve changed. My body, my way of life, everything.
Moki muttered something into his pyuika’s ear as he secured the scarf. Affection shone in his eyes. As Van gazed at him, he realized that he didn’t care that Moki was Zolian. He recalled Hohsalle comparing the human body to a country. Now Van understood what he’d meant. Although a body, or a nation, seemed like a single entity, it really wasn’t. It was a collection of countless little lives that had come together to support a greater one.
We are born within this great law, a law that was probably spun by the fingers of the gods when the world first formed, and then we vanish. A quick flash of life, like bubbles in the foam.
And Ohfan…
As Van stared across the milling sheep at the vast crowd, he thought of the man who might be hiding in its midst. A man who, having wept at injustice and sworn to right that wrong, discovered a peculiar disease that had propelled him forward to this point in time. A small yet lethal disease seeking to infiltrate a large, robust body—that’s what Ohfan had chosen to become. Sadness, not anger, filled Van at this notion.
Even if Ohfan’s plan succeeded, there was no future there for him. Yet he would still go through with it.
Can I stop him?
The Molfah and all the king’s men were on the lookout for him, but the crowd was far too big. The Molfah, who knew his face, had a slim chance, but the Aquafaese soldiers had no hope of identifying him from others in the throng. There were too many people on horses—shepherds herding their sheep, merchants, and others, often with scarves across their faces to keep out the dust. And dogs were running everywhere.
Van looked toward the stand.
If he’s going to use a firebomb, he could heave it farther if he dropped it from above. And if his target was the Emperor’s Eyes, the best way would be to hurl it from the top of the city wall into his pavilion. But the wall was lined so thickly with Zolian soldiers that not even an ant could have slipped through. Ohfan would never get close enough to throw a bomb into the tent.
Thus, he’d likely try to blend into the crowd until he had a chance to attack. He’ll probably wait until the tournament starts and everyone’s focused on the competitors.
At that moment, the thunderous display of fireworks came to an end. When the sound of the explosions faded, a horn cut through the still spring air, announcing that the games were about to begin.
First came the sheepdog trial, and the contestants, their faces bright with excitement, gathered in front of a gate midway along the fence. A cheer rose from those gathered near the stand. The Emperor’s Eyes and a boy who was probably his son emerged from the tent, accompanied by the governor and Yotalu. When they waved from the edge of the stand, the cheer swelled to a roar. After waiting for the noise to subside, the Emperor’s Eyes spoke, but he was too far away to be heard by those along the fence, and they had to content themselves with staring at the dazzling light reflecting from his gorgeous brocade robe.
“Can you hear what he’s sayin’?” Tohma asked. A red sash slung across his chest identified him as a competitor.
Van smiled slightly. “Nothing important. Just a typical greeting.”
“Guess he’s talkin’ Zolian.”
“He is, but the interpreter behind him is translating it into Aquafaese so people near enough to hear can understand.”
Yuna piped up from beside him. “Ochan, is dis a feah land?”
“You can hear him, too?” Van asked, surprised.
“Course I can. Is deah an unfeah land?”
Van laughed. “He’s not talking about fair and unfair. He means it’s beautiful.” As he said this, he caught a familiar scent and glanced over his shoulder. Sae was weaving her way through the crowd toward them. A quiver was slung across her back, and she carried a bow in her hand, even though bearing arms on the tournament grounds was forbidden. People stared at her as she passed, but when they saw the mark of the king on her belt, their expressions relaxed. She belonged to the security detail.
Coming up beside him, she favored Van with an embarrassed smile. “I stand out too much, don’t I? It can’t be helped, though.”
A vivid image surfaced in Van’s mind at the sight of the bow in her hand—Sae on the cliff shooting a flaming arrow through the darkness into a distant hokuso tree. That had been no ordinary feat, and Van knew the king must value her archery skills. Sae appeared as composed as always, but Van noticed a tenseness in her cheeks.
A distinctive scent wafted from her bow. He recognized it as the smell that clung to her body. “Is that bow made from ichii? It has quite a strong odor.”
Sae looked puzzled. “Odor? Does it smell?”
“Yes.”
“Really? I can’t smell a thing.”
“It’s probably the fault of my nose.”
Sae smiled faintly. “That’s true. Your nose is pretty extraordinary, after all.” She ran a hand along her bow. “It’s made of okuba ichii. They grow thickly where I’m from, but now that you mention it, I don’t remember seeing that kind of tree anywhere else. The wood’s very flexible and resilient, and the Molfah have used it since ancient times.”
Tohma strode up, leading Tsupi by the reins. “Sae, you look so dashing,” he said, his eyes shining with admiration.