“Ah! Roast duck, I see.” Tohlim smiled and raised the bottle. “Then it is fortunate I brought this. It goes very well with duck. But I’m afraid it is wholly inadequate to apologize for the blow darts.”
Hohsalle stared at Tohlim silently, his face void of expression.
Tohlim bowed low. “We did not intend to use blow darts. But some of the men panicked when they saw you questioning the Zolian official, and they took things into their own hands. That I was unable to stop them, however, is entirely my fault. I hope you will forgive me.”
Ting!
Hohsalle rapped the wine bottle with his dagger. As the high-pitched sound rang through the air, he placed the dagger on the table and glared at Tohlim.
Tohlim took a deep breath. After putting the bottle down, he turned to Milalle. “I know you just arrived, but please don’t take off your cloak.”
“Excuse me?”
Tohlim shot a glance at Hohsalle and Makokan. “You will be unable to enjoy your meal until you’ve learned what you want to know,” he said. “There’s something I would like to show you. Please follow me.”
With Tohlim in the lead, the group climbed a narrow spiral staircase and then stepped outside beneath the night sky. An icy wind stung their faces. It smelled of snow.
The hall was built in the slope midway up the mountain, and the flat roof offered one of the highest vantage points in Otai, the clan capital. When they stood at the railing, they saw rooftops stretching into the distance.
“You see the fires burning?” Tohlim pointed at the central plaza in front of the clan meeting hall. Numerous bonfires had been lit, and the illuminated space floated like an island of light in the darkness. Steam gathered above, perhaps from cooking pots, and as their eyes grew accustomed to the dark, they could make out the shapes of tents clustered around the edges of the plaza. There had to be many congregating there.
“Zolian soldiers,” Tohlim said flatly. “Camped here on their way to relieve the garrison stationed at the fort on the western frontier. They arrived this evening and are having supper. Tomorrow morning, they’ll break camp, and the night after tomorrow, another troop will arrive. At this time of year, border guards descend upon us in wave after wave.”
The night wind tugged at Tohlim’s white locks, and he reached up a hand to tame them. “The Kingdom of Mukonia has been trying to invade Aquafa every winter for the past few years. It would take too long to explain the reason, but that’s why the Zolians keep sending troops to the western border.”
He waved a hand toward the square. “For every troop that passes through here, the peoples of the Yukata Mountains must provide food and supplies. Each time the Zolians come, those who live along their route must offer food on top of what they’ve already paid in taxes.”
Gazing at the bonfires, Tohlim added, “Please do not misunderstand me. I am not criticizing the Zolians. Before they came, Aquafa often had to battle the Mukonians. The warriors of the western clans served as a shield. Thanks to the Zolian army, far fewer people from this region need to shed their blood.”
Tohlim turned away from the square to look at Hohsalle. “But ever since Aquafa was absorbed into Zolian territory, the Mukonian attacks have increased in intensity. They keep trying to find ways to invade.”
“Because they’re afraid,” Hohsalle said, and Tohlim nodded.
“Yes,” he agreed. “The Mukonians are afraid. This huge empire from the east that keeps extending its influence is now at their back door. It has carved out a stable foothold from which to keep its armies permanently supplied with food, water, and weapons. They fear that, at some point, the Zolians are going to pass over the Toga Mountains and march on their land.”
Milalle was shivering. Tohlim gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “My apologies. It’s too cold here. Let’s go inside.”
When they returned to the room, they found that food had been set out for three more people, and wood had been added to the fireplace. The fire blazed brightly, and the warmth was a welcome relief.
Hohsalle sat in front of a plate of steaming roast duck. After urging Milalle and Makokan to eat, he fixed his gaze on Tohlim. “That was a rather roundabout explanation, wasn’t it? All you’re really saying is that the increased pressure from Mukonia is impoverishing Aquafa’s border region.”
Tohlim nodded. “Yes, that’s true. But it’s not the whole story. It’s not just the Zolian army’s presence. Those Zolian immigrants in Aquafa compound the problem. To outsiders, Aquafa must appear to have plenty of land, enough to support an influx of settlers. But the amount of land suited to farming crops and livestock is limited, and if the newcomers seize that land, then naturally, someone will go short come harvest time. To make things worse, the Zolian settlers receive a tax break, whereas the Aquafaese do not.”
Tohlim smiled grimly. “To be frank, from a military and economic perspective, we are grateful to be part of the Zolian Empire. We have no intention of revolting. But the immigrants are a heavy burden. The Mukonians are the worse threat, of course, but the settlers still represent a problem to our people.”
Hohsalle’s eyes narrowed. “So?”
Without responding, Tohlim popped the cork from the bottle and poured the pale red wine into cups for Hohsalle and Milalle. After filling his own cup, he passed the bottle to Makokan and told him to help himself.
“It all began,” he said, “with a certain incident. It happened by chance—it wasn’t intentional, you see…” He looked at Hohsalle. “I’m referring to the toxic grain you were investigating. When that happened, I sent people here to look into it. At that point, I was already aware of a possible mittsual resurgence. However, I didn’t tell the Inner Circle of Otawalle.”
He ran a finger along the rim of his cup, and his lips quirked upward. “Perhaps you are already aware, but when we hear the name mittsual, we feel that we have been blessed by the gods.”
Hohsalle blinked. For the first time, he looked taken aback.
“To a noble of Otawalle such as yourself, it must seem a curse. But for the Aquafaese, it was a wonderful gift that freed our homeland. We have always viewed the handsome black wolves of the northwestern mountains as messengers of the gods, and they brought the disease that spared us but slew the Otawalle.”
Tohlim’s mouth curled in a quiet smile, and raising his glass, he took a sip of wine.
“So when that incident occurred, it did not trouble us. The settlers died, but the Ahfal Oma who raised the infected dogs survived. It even seemed like a favorable sign. At the same time, however…” He put his cup down and gazed at Hohsalle. “We did not expect much.”