The westering sun dyed the tree trunks red, and sunlight wavered in the smoke that rose slowly from between them.
A cloud of billowing smoke was the first thing Hohsalle saw when he approached the Cliff of Alulufan. On the rocks at the bottom lay a heap of dog carcasses covered in flaming, oil-rich hokuso branches. Over this makeshift pyre, thick, black smoke rolled toward the heavens. A group of men had gathered around it, some standing, others sitting on the road with their heads resting on their knees. They turned when he drew near but merely regarded him blankly, as though they’d misplaced their souls. Malji stepped out from the circle and walked over to stand in front of Hohsalle.
“Did the Inner Circle know?” he demanded.
Taken aback, Hohsalle frowned. “Know what?” he asked.
Malji just stared up at him silently.
“What’s going on?” Hohsalle pressed. “Where’s the governor of Oah? And Shikan?”
Malji’s eyes narrowed. After searching Hohsalle’s face intently, he laughed through his nose. “No doubt the governor has reached his lodgings for the night. As for Shikan, my sons killed him.” Then, through clenched teeth, he growled, “Was it Shikan who tricked us? Or you?”
Makokan stepped forward as though to shield his master, but Hohsalle laid a hand on his shoulder as he looked at Malji. “Even if it was my grandfather or the Inner Circle,” he said, “I knew nothing about it. However, I doubt it was them. What would be the point?”
Malji glared at him, a dull gleam in his eyes, his breath ragged. Finally, he shifted his gaze away and returned to his men. Another approached Hohsalle. His sleeve was wet with blood. Bowing slightly, he said in a low voice, “Forgive my father’s rudeness.”
“Were you bitten?” Hohsalle asked.
The man nodded and explained flatly that the Kinma dogs had targeted the Molfah, not the governor.
Ah, I see. It makes perfect sense, Hohsalle mused gloomily. To the Ahfal Oma, the Molfah, who’d hunted them when they should have helped, were despicable. Plus, they would have hunted down and killed the Kinma dogs. To make sure the beasts roamed free and spread black wolf fever, the Molfah needed to be eliminated. Hohsalle had never considered this, and it likely hadn’t occurred to his grandfather, either.
How careless. Hohsalle bit his lip. I suppose Grandfather didn’t really see the Molfah as people. They were just tools, like hunting dogs. Maybe it occurred to him that the Ahfal Oma might hate him for planning and executing this scheme, but the notion that they would vent their fury on those who’d simply followed his orders never entered Limuelle’s mind.
Or mine, Hohsalle thought. He was no different. Somewhere inside, he’d viewed the Molfah as convenient tools, not as people. He gazed at the men gathered around the smoking bonfire who stood staring into the face of death.
Of all the stupid, futile, wretched…
He drew a sharp breath and shook his head. Reaching out his hand, he grasped Malji’s son’s arm. “Show me your wound,” he said.
With Makokan’s assistance, Hohsalle injected the Molfah with the new medicine, then washed and stitched their wounds. As his hands moved, Hohsalle kept talking. He couldn’t help himself. “This medicine is very effective. There’s no need for you to worry. You’re Aquafaese, so you already have some resistance to the disease.” Although he knew no self-respecting physician should ever say such things, he let the easy words of comfort flow. They seemed to reach the disheartened men because once Hohsalle’s work was complete, life had returned to their eyes.
“Thank you,” Malji’s son said.
Hohsalle shook his head. “I should be thanking you. Although I know it’s far too late for an apology. In fact, inexcusably late.” He looked at the man, then turned to the others around the fire. “You saved the lives of many people by stopping those dogs. Thank you.”
“But we didn’t stop them,” someone said from behind.
Surprised, Hohsalle saw a woman emerge from the dark woods. “Sae!” he exclaimed. Her clothes were in tatters, and she was covered in mud. Her arms were slashed, and dried blood speckled her skin. Reaching out, he gently took her arms and examined her wounds carefully. His face relaxed slightly. “At least you weren’t bitten. Did they scratch you?”
Sae nodded. Hohsalle washed the gashes carefully, applied an ointment, and then injected her with the new medicine. She stared at him silently the whole time.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
Her expression tensed. “We only killed six,” she muttered. “The other fourteen…went with him.”
Hohsalle looked up and stared at her. Tears welled in her eyes. “I went after him, but he was so fast… I couldn’t catch up on foot, and no horse could pass through the depths of this forest. The sun will set soon…” She covered her face with one hand and let out a sob. “His leg was drenched with blood. I think his wound reopened. He’s injured and shouldn’t even be moving his head yet.”
Hesitantly, Hohsalle put an arm around Sae’s shoulders, but he could think of nothing to say. The forest behind her was already sinking into blue shadow. So he’s taken the dogs with him. To some place so far away that the disease won’t reach anyone.
Sae raised her head, turned, and peered into the woods. “I knew,” she whispered. “I knew that one day something like this might happen.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes.
At that moment, a child called out, and everyone looked up in surprise. Craning their necks in the direction of the sound, they saw a tiny lantern at the top of the cliff, bobbing as though someone was waving it.
“Auntie Sae!” The cheerful voice bounced down the cliff, echoing faintly. The lantern waved again, then disappeared.
“That voice,” Makokan whispered, and looked at Hohsalle. He didn’t answer but just stared up at the top of the cliff where the light had winked out.
When the flames on the pyre had almost died, two small lanterns appeared on the road, rising and falling as they approached.
“Auntie Sae!” This time the voice was unmistakable.
“Yuna,” Sae whispered; then, as if waking from a dream, she dashed for the lanterns.
Two pyuika came into sight. Tohma rode one with Yuna sitting in front, while the other carried a young settler. As soon as she saw Sae, Yuna twisted around to look up at Tohma and said proudly, “Told you so! It’s Auntie Sae!”
Looking stunned, Sae reached up and gently stroked Yuna’s cheek. The girl giggled and grabbed Sae’s finger, swinging it back and forth. “I came to find Ochan. Waz he heah?”
Sae’s expression softened. “I saw him,” she replied, her voice thick and hoarse. “But he ran off into the forest.”
Yuna sighed, exasperated. “Ochan! Such a bad boy!”
Hohsalle smiled weakly. “You did a good job of finding us,” he said to Tohma.
“Not us. Yuna. We just did what she said. She seems to know where Van is.” Tohma glanced at the young settler beside him. “There were a couple of times we were seriously considerin’ turnin’ back, though, weren’t there?”
The other man laughed and nodded. As he glanced around, his face sobered, and he lowered his voice. “Did we interrupt something? Is this a bad time?”
Sae shook her head. “No. I’m so glad you came, Chida.” Quickly, she filled the new arrivals in on what had happened. They frowned as they looked into the forest.
“And he’s injured. That sounds bad,” Tohma muttered.
Yuna craned her neck to look up at him. “We gonna follow Ochan, wight?”
Tohma blinked and gazed down at her. “Course we are. You know which way he went?”
She threw him a smug smile and pointed. “Dat way!”
Tohma and Chida grinned. “Sorry, Sae, we’ve gotta go,” Tohma said. He looked at Hohsalle. “Uhm, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” he said hesitantly, “would you tell my mother and the others that we’ll be gone awhile and not to worry?”
Hohsalle frowned. “I can tell them, but Van is with the Kinma dogs, you know.”
Tohma and Chida glanced at one another but just shrugged.
They knew, but they’re going anyway. Although moved by their love for Van, Hohsalle felt compelled to intervene. “Surely you’re not taking that child with you. The woods are wild, not even horses can pass once you get in deep.”
Tohma smiled. “We’ll be fine. We were born and raised in the wilderness.”
Chida patted the neck of his mount. “And to the pyuika, this kinda place is home.” Then he added in a quiet voice, “Van taught us to ride. Where he can go, so can we.”
Sae looked up at Chida. “Would it be possible to take me with you?”
Although his eyebrows shot up in evident surprise, Chida answered instantly. “‘Sure. No problem.”
“Then please, let me come, too.”
Tohma’s face brightened. “It’ll be an awful lot easier with you along.” Then he grinned. “And it’ll make Van happier.”
Sae blushed. Grasping Chida’s hand, she swung herself up behind him.
“Sae!” Malji barked. He stood with his back to the fire. “Enough! We’ve washed our hands of this affair!”
Sae looked him straight in the eye. “Father,” she replied, voice clear and ringing. “I relinquish my okuba ichii bow. Never again will I return to my homeland.” Malji gaped at her. Unconcerned, Sae bowed to Hohsalle. When she raised her head, a bright smile spread across her face. It was the expression of one freed from a heavy load.
“Hey! We gotta find Ochan, wight?” Yuna said impatiently.
Sae laughed and reached out to poke her cheek. “We sure do, Yunacha. Take us to him.”
Yuna nodded with an air of importance. “All wight! Let’s go! Dat way!” Laughing, Tohma and Chida turned their pyuika in the direction her pudgy little finger indicated.
The last rays of the sun shone red on their backs as the young man from Oki, the settler from Zol, the little girl of the Yusula Oma, and the woman of the Molfah rode close together like family and vanished into the depths of the forest.