It was brighter than Hohsalle had expected when he stepped outside. The last rays of the sun trailed across the sky. Looking up at that pure light, he pressed his lips together. Tears came unbidden. The sunset’s brilliance stung his eyes.
A servant brought him his horse, and he mounted and rode through the gate, but he did not see the forest that spread out before him. While his horse plodded along silently, he gave himself up to his roiling thoughts.
Does Shikan know? Does he realize that, whether he succeeds in killing the Zolian noble or not, he and the Kinma dogs will be consigned to oblivion?
He heard his grandfather’s measured voice in his ears. “Maybe. He’s a clever young man, that one.” Even so, he supposed that Shikan had been left with no choice.
When Limuelle had offered to go to the northern forest and arrange to have Shikan and the Kinma Dogs sent east, Ohfan had jumped at the chance. Although it was possible to control the dogs without Kenoi, thanks to Shikan, they still lacked a way to increase the number of handlers if they stayed put. With the Zolians and the King’s Net closing in, it was impossible.
According to Limuelle, Ohfan had set the dogs on the frontier settlements to test the black wolf’s ability to lead and to harry the king. However, killing settlers one by one wouldn’t upset the center of power in Aquafa. It would take far too long. Besides, if he attacked too often, there would have been no point in leaving Kenoi’s body behind as a deception. Ohfan must have felt the net closing around him and his people and sought a way to get the Kinma dogs outside Aquafa to multiply before they were irreparably cornered. An opportunity with the condition that the dogs had to attack the prince elector must have seemed heaven-sent. It would make it clear to all that the spread of mittsual to the east was divine retribution exacted on the Zolians who’d defiled Aquafa.
Surely, Ohfan and Shikan must have realized that they and the Kinma dogs would be killed, even if they successfully attacked the procession of the Emperor’s Eyes. Yet still, they had accepted his grandfather’s proposal.
What were they thinking? Did they have some plan to avoid being killed? Or did they entrust their fates entirely to their god?
Birds flew across the evening sky, calling to one another, and a deep sadness rose inside Hohsalle. Ohfan and his band deserved to die. They’d killed and inflicted suffering on many through black wolf fever, and Shikan still aimed to spread it.
“They would have died regardless of my suggestion,” Limuelle had said. “Cheehana had already ordered their assassination. I merely reached out a hand and stopped the door from snapping shut briefly.”
At first, Cheehana had rejected Limuelle’s proposal. To kill the governor of Oah was undoubtedly meaningful for the future of Otawalle medicine, but she’d asserted that it was best to do such things simply and quickly. The more elements that embellished a plan, the greater the likelihood that something unforeseen would happen. Sending carriers of mittsual to eastern Aquafa posed too many risks. Even with the master archers of the Molfah, there was no guarantee every Kinma dog would be purged. Thus, Cheehana had demanded to know what Limuelle intended to do if one escaped.
It was then that Limuelle had spelled it out in numerical figures. The number of carriers was the important bit, he’d explained. If ten or more disease-bearing dogs scattered into the forest, it could cause a major outbreak, but if only one or two slipped away, the result would not be much different from the disease spreading naturally. This was the argument that finally tipped the balance.
Assassinating the governor of Oah or the priest-doctor Tsugana wouldn’t be difficult if Otawalle wished it. However, if they perished to disease, suspicion could fall on Otawalle. On the other hand, if they were slain by Kinma dogs, their deaths would be attributed to a suicidal act of vengeance on the part of a frontier clan—as long as Shikan wasn’t captured alive. Further, by having the Molfah shoot the dogs and save the Emperor’s Eyes, the king would prove his loyalty to Zol.
Although the capacity of the king and the governor might be called into question, such minor conflicts were common in frontier territories. If they could clearly demonstrate that the king had no intention of rebelling, there would be no problem.
Hohsalle grimaced, recalling his grandfather’s words. “It’s a pity for Shikan, but I’m sure he would prefer to die while delivering a final blow, instead of being killed outright.”
Grandfather’s right…in theory. But something about this argument troubled Hohsalle, and he could not bring himself to agree. If they murdered the governor of Oah, Otawalle physicians would likely breathe easy for a while. The future was never certain, though, and there were many other possible ways of dealing with this issue. His grandfather had to know that. Yet he’d still used this to justify his argument. Why?
Hohsalle’s eyes narrowed. And that’s not all. Grandfather has skillfully deceived Cheehana. While the escape of one or two Kinma dogs would not lead directly to an explosive epidemic, nothing was guaranteed when it came to sicknesses. If the disease agents transferred to ticks and found new hosts in previously unexposed areas, there was no telling what could happen. Some unexpected mutation might emerge, just as it had with the arrival of the Zolian settlers.
A chill shot through Hohsalle’s heart. Maybe he’s hoping for that.
His expression darkened as he remembered his grandfather’s uncharacteristic irritation when Hohsalle had protested the foolishness of such a gamble.
The shadows under the trees had deepened. In the blue dusk, Hohsalle’s horse plodded on while he turned his thoughts, darker than the night, over repeatedly. The terrible temptation that lurked in his grandfather’s heart also lay in his own.
Disease…
There was nothing more alluring. Yes, it was frightening, but it attracted him irresistibly. Within it, Hohsalle glimpsed the reality of living creatures that lay concealed in the bottom of the shadow behind the physical world. At times, his yearning to learn those secrets transcended his desire to save people’s lives.
Once again, Hohsalle saw his grandfather’s pale, impassive face when he’d told his grandson to give Sulumina the new medicine, knowing full well that it might trigger an allergic reaction. And Hohsalle had obeyed, even though he’d realized his grandfather was deliberately taking that risk just to see how the new medicine would affect the Aquafaese. Hohsalle had tried to convince himself that it was fine because he knew how to stabilize a reaction. Her life had already been in jeopardy anyhow, so it was better to try for the sake of improving the new remedy.
Grandfather’s right. We can always make up convenient excuses for our actions—as long as we can convince ourselves that it’s for the sake of medical science or that it will help save more people in the future. But isn’t that turning a blind eye to our own extraordinary arrogance?
Long ago, Limuelle had shown Hohsalle the glowing green creatures in his aquarium. “Sometimes disease reveals the truth by killing things,” he’d said. “By erasing that which is superfluous, it promotes the survival of that which was meant to exist. Like a chisel in a god’s hand, it cuts away the unnecessary and reveals the form that being was meant to take.”
Perhaps, deep down, his grandfather longed to unleash black wolf fever to see how it would change the world, even though he knew it would mean death for many. Maybe he believed that only those who survived such a heartless and terrible test were meant to exist.
Part of me longs to do the same.
The human body assumed its shape because certain parts of it chose to die and vanish. From the moment of conception, the bodies of living creatures were designed to live and die. Beneath this unsettling idea lay something still and fathomless.
Hohsalle reined in his horse. He took a slow, deep breath in the dusky night.
Van and I talked about this same thing. He could hear the man’s low voice. “Still, it’s a sad thing to see one’s homeland, or one’s own self, which exists just once, vanish forever.”
The forest was blanketed in darkness, and the trees were barely visible. The afterglow of the sunset lingered, a pale red line along the horizon beneath a blue-black vault. A single star shone in the evening sky—a tiny pinprick of light, so pure and white that it pierced his heart.
That’s right. Even if disease was the hand of the god that pointed toward the meaning of death, people—those tiny, insignificant life forms—had to carry on in this heartless world. And I became a doctor because I wanted to help those who strive to live, despite the weight of that hopeless sadness. He’d taken this profession to aid the insignificant existences that somehow kept bobbing to the surface as the great raging river of life swept them along.
Now Hohsalle knew what he must do. It wasn’t much, but at least he saw the direction to take. Digging in his heels, Hohsalle urged the horse to a trot. At that moment, he spied someone riding toward him, carrying a lantern.
“Young Master.” Makokan’s deep voice was instantly recognizable. “Did you leave the hall without so much as a lantern?”
Hohsalle patted his horse’s neck. “I’d like to say that my steed knows the way home, but I’ve just now changed my mind. I’m not going home.”
Makokan frowned. “Excuse me?”
Hohsalle jerked his chin toward the lantern. “Give me that, will you? There’s somewhere I need to go.”