The main road from Lower Ougi to Ougi no Kami forked just below the cluster of government buildings that fronted the imperial grounds. To the left lay the road to the Aoyumi and, on its western bank, the Tosei Highway. Straight, the seat of power and the Imperial Palaces.
Balsa the Spearwielder stood for a long time at the intersection, staring straight ahead at the massive gate that hid most of the buildings behind it from view. The very tip of the Star Palace could be seen, along with the pagodas of a few of the taller Palace buildings. Whether one of them was the Second Palace Balsa couldn't be sure with this obstructed view. A large contingent of royal guardsmen clustered in front of the gate, and the glint of their helmets could be seen in the window slats of the towers on either side.
It was so close, she could almost feel his presence. She'd walked many hundreds of miles through hostile weather over unimaginably rough terrain to reach this point, weeks and weeks of dangerous and bone-wearying travel through hell itself. The palace buildings were a mere half a mile away, a level stroll along smooth, tight packed dirt that a carriage could traverse smoothly enough not to spill a cup of tea inside.
It was a knife in the gut.
"I haven't forgotten." The Spearwielder whispered to no one in particular, and turned down the left-hand road.
******
Tanda squinted up at the dazzling blue sky, watching a small circle of crows noisily bickering overhead. A wolf howled in the distance but the healer didn't even break his stride – he'd shared these hills with wolves for the better part of his life and never feared them for a moment. They were creatures of this place, just as he was. As all the Yakue were.
Almost home, now. Another lonely trip to the meadow, another stint of waiting. For how long, this time? Next time? How many more next times could he afford? He was twenty-nine now, not a boy by any stretch of the imagination. There were other girls in the world – not Yogoese, perhaps, not for a Yakue like him - but Yakue girls. Foreigners, too, who had no stake in the long-standing divisions of the New Yogo Empire. There were villages, even Toumi Village, his grandfather's home. There were unmarried women there, certainly eager enough to be attached to a man with a marketable skill and a thriving trade in a respectable profession.
So why, then, was he going back to his little hut to wait for someone who might never come?
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It was only after she'd been on the Tosei Highway for a few nights that Balsa realized that the caravan master was known to her – and she to him.
He'd been much younger, of course – and she a girl of 12. It had been a caravan then, too, and Jiguro working as guard to put food in her belly. The man had been a yak driver then, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years-old and clean shaven. Now he was a burly man in charge of twenty wagons and sported a robust beard tinged with gray. But there was no doubt it was him – in an instant she remembered the flush she'd felt at the sight of his bright green eyes and auburn hair. She couldn't say for certain it had been her first crush, but it was the first one she could still remember. How had she not seen it immediately?
The Spearwielder wondered at first if she'd passed unrecognized when he hired her, but of course, how many female yojimbo were there in Yogo, especially wielding a spear? She'd just begun her training with Jiguro then, the man finally relenting after months and months of begging him to teach her. It was mostly mimicry at that point – copying the moves Jiguro showed her as exactly as she could – but it must have been quite a sight to the drivers around the fire at night. She remembered blushing as they cheered and shouted encouragement to her, and silently looking for the face of the green-eyed driver in the crowd.
He was outside his tent re-soling his boot with a yak skin patch when she finally approached him. He looked up at her approach and smiled. "I was wondering when you were going to say something."
She returned his smile. "It was Geta, wasn't it?"
"You remember – I'm flattered!"
"Why didn't you say something when you hired me?"
He shrugged. "I was figured I was lucky enough, getting the finest warrior on the peninsula for the price of a stripling hired blade. Why didn't you?"
"To be honest, I didn't recognize you at first. It was a long time ago, and you've changed."
"As we all have." Geta nodded. "And you've become as fearsome with the spear as your father was, or so I hear."
Balsa let that pass uncorrected, seeing no point in disabusing the man. "He was in his prime when you knew him. No one could challenge him."
"Does he no longer wield the spear?"
"He's dead."
"I'm sorry." Balsa nodded thanks. "To be honest, I was surprised a warrior of your reputation would take a boring job like this."
"Honest work is honest work." She nodded again. "Good night - I'm glad to see you well. If there are only problems, keep your men out of my way and let me handle it."
He's attractive. Still attractive. Balsa mused as she slowly patrolled the perimeter of the caravan. It was an odd thought – she hadn't looked at a man that way in a long time. She laughed at the thought of it – a damaged and weather-beaten warrior still enflamed by the same passions as a girl of twelve. Had he made her feel young again so easily?
There had been a thought too, just briefly, of a dalliance in the confines of his test. As the caravan rolled on towards Tosei he'd been friendly and sometimes a little flirtatious – though Balsa couldn't be sure she wasn't flattering herself – but never pushed matters beyond that. It did feel good to have the attention of a handsome man like that, and she was the same flesh and blood as that little girl who'd been entranced by his eyes all those years ago. It would have been easy enough – such things happened all the time. It was the way of men and women.
But almost as soon as the temptation flared in her, she realized that she could never do it. As long as Tanda was waiting for her, the idea was unthinkable.
That was a strange and absurd thing. She would never have expected such restraint from him, and there was no agreement explicitly or implicitly spoken between them. She'd been away from Yogo more often than she'd been there over the last five years. Yet, it was what it was. There would be no dalliances in tents on this job.
That thought more or less freed from her consciousness – if a little reluctantly - much of the rest of the caravan was spent in morose remembrance of Jiguro.
It was impossible not to think of him. Many of the jobs he'd taken to support them were guarding caravans – not the best paying work and often dangerous, but a job where a little girl could be dragged along with him. As Jiguro had no marketable skills besides wielding the spear, that sort of work was about the best he could hope for with her in tow.
She'd taken this last long journey to Kanbal – and she realized now that she could think of no reason that would bring her back again – in order to clear Jiguo's name. His name, soiled by his role in defying the throne by saving her life, and by the slaying of his comrades in defense of it. It was a debt she owed to him – the only one, probably, that she had it within her power to repay. She owed the man far too much for the score to ever be even.
And in that, her journey had been successful. But now, as the days with the caravan dragged into weeks and the summer became early autumn, she drew little satisfaction from it. He was gone and never to return – what did he care of his name in the place that had robbed him of his dignity and self-respect? But it had been easier to pay an imagined debt to the dead than to face her helplessness in making things right with the living.
Tanda would be waiting for her on her return, of this Balsa had no doubt. She half-wished that he wouldn't wait, that he would move on with his life and end her paralysis. But that wouldn't be the case – she knew it in her heart. And it was within their power to decide how to live their lives, at least, even if they were too foolish to take advantage of that freedom.
Chagum wasn't so lucky.
Balsa found that she understood Jiguro better now than she ever had when he was alive. For that she owed a great debt to Chagum, though he was doubtless unaware of it. And now, helpless to do anything for him but silently mourn for him, she understood how helpless Jiguro had felt in the latter days of his life, powerless to undo the necessary acts of violence that had tortured his soul. Where Chagum was concerned the Spearwielder had no course of action open to her now except to suffer in silence and live with her regret.
When the uneventful caravan was finally at an end, having been attacked by nothing more sinister than a small pack of wild dogs after their goats, summer had faded into full autumn and the leaves on the maples had started to take on their brilliant reds and golds of the season. She accepted her pay –and a somewhat rueful smile - from Geta and wandered through a light rain into Lower Ougi in the late afternoon tired and smelling strongly of the road.
She thought briefly about an inn, but instead found her eyes wandering towards the eastern mountains. The Spearwielder yearned for a bath, and felt a nagging duty to check in on Touya and Saya. But the pull of the small hut in the meadow was stronger. If she left immediately, she could be there before nightfall.
One way or another, there was at least a choice to be made – that was something to be grateful for. All she had to do was make it.
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The air was thick and heavy in the foothills of the eastern mountains, a light mist having slowly increased in intensity over the course of the afternoon into a steady drizzle. The drops sent little waves among the lily pads on the pond, causing them to shimmer slightly in the fading light. The full moon could be seen through the haze low in the eastern horizon, beginning its evening's journey.
Double moon. Tanda noted. Two nights in a row. That's not a good auger.
He ducked back into his hut, tossing his bundle of herbs to the ground before the brazier in the center of the structure. With a sigh he set about the process of chopping vegetables for the evening meal, the act as natural and unthinking as drawing a breath. He'd done it every night since he'd returned to the hut five weeks earlier, and he'd do it tomorrow. Later, after the meal, there would be a short interval to work on his spells, a cup of valerian tea to soothe his system before bed, and sleep.
Tanda felt a little guilty about not going down into town for such an extended period – there was a risk of annoying some of his regular customers and always the possibility of a serious illness that required treatment. But Touya could always fetch him if anything serious enough happened, and the healer had felt little desire to immerse himself in the sea of people in Ougi of late.
There was that other reason, too, though he felt a fool for even considering it. Balsa would surely wait for him if she found him absent – that or come down into town looking for him. It was absurd to wait around the hut for her – utterly devoid of logic or common sense.
Tanda preferred not to think about the implications of that.
Well – at least there would be a good supply of herbs and medicines prepared for his next trip – whenever that was. More than he could carry on his back, but enough to fill a good percentage of the orders that would doubtless be waiting for him.
When the creak of his door reached his ears, the healer expected to see Touya standing there, or perhaps even Torogai – an occasional visitor to the hut during one of the mysterious travels she refused to discuss with him. The woman who stood in the doorway, dripping slowly onto his floor, sniffing the air and meeting him with an awkward smile, was decidedly neither. "Is there no meat for supper tonight, then?"
"Balsa!"
She dropped her bundles and untied her spear with a groan. "Miserable out there. I probably should have stopped down in town, but-"
"Hang on, I'll get you something to dry yourself." Tanda fetched a rough woolen blanket and handed it to the Spearwielder. "Get yourself dry and sit by the fire. I'll get you some warm broth."
"Thank you."
As always, Tanda's long-nurtured anger was immediately swept away in relief at seeing Balsa after a long absence. Just as predictably, when that had subsided a bit and his rational mind gotten its teeth into the moment he felt a peevish irritation blossoming. It was a dance with himself that he knew all too well. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
She laughed softly. "Not this time. Nothing worse than a few callouses."
"Well. That's a nice change." He spooned off some of the simmering liquid from his stew pot into a small bowl and handed her the steaming contents. "Not done yet, but the broth will warm you." She accepted the bowl with a nod and he knelt next to her. "What've you been doing with yourself, Balsa?"
"Before I answer, give me your promise."
The healer frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Let's just agree that you have plenty of reason to be angry with me, and avoid pretending everything is fine."
"Balsa-"
"I'm tired." She sighed. "I'm more tired now than I've ever been, I think. Every old wound aches like the morning after I received it. Too tired to waste any more time on nonsense. Let's just agree to tell each other what we really think and live with the consequences."
Tanda's mouth opened in surprise. "I don't understand. Did something happen to you?"
"Not really. Just too much time inside my own head. So – will you give me your promise?"
"If you want. Though I admit, it seems odd that it would be you asking such things of me."
"Please don't, Tanda. I don't have the strength for it."
This Balsa seemed odd, different. Almost beaten-down. The healer found himself frightened at the thought of it. "Are you sure you're all right, Balsa?"
"Your promise?"
"All right, then. I promise. Now tell me what you've been doing that's brought you to me in a state like this."
She smiled weakly. "I did promise I'd come to you, didn't I?"
He returned her smile and placed his hand over hers. "You did."
"I went on that caravan – the one I told you about."
"To Tosei?"
She nodded. "It was completely uneventful –they'd have been as successful with a sheepdog guarding them. I met someone there who knew Jiguro. And me, when I was young."
"Really?"
"That was strange… But only for a while. Mostly, I was bored. I found myself hoping that we would be attacked, after a time. So that I could fight. Isn't that interesting?" Balsa glanced at Tanda, but the healer said nothing. "I have the scent of blood so deep in my bones that no amount of time or distraction will cleanse it. Fighting is the only way I know how to live."
"That's not true, Balsa."
"I made you promise not to pretend, didn't I? So only fair that I should do the same. I live to fight, Tanda – I've accepted it. That was the reason I went to Kanbal – it was an excuse to fight for something that felt important to me. I didn't do it for Jiguro – I did it for myself." The Spearwielder was silent for a moment, the bubbling of the stew pot and the crackling of the fire seemingly a riot of noise in the little hut. "Can you accept that, Tanda?"
"I don't accept it to be true."
She shook her head. "I can find meaning in nothing else."
"I don't believe that's all there is to it, Balsa. To you. You're more than that."
Balsa sipped from her bowl. "There's only been one time that I've ever done anything just for the sake of the doing – besides fighting. Only one time and even that started out as a job. I fought, but that was only because it was necessary. I would have gladly lived quietly and seen that through to the end even if I'd never had to pick up my spear." She laughed softly. "That's over now. For a warrior, to be able to do nothing to change what tortures you is the cruelest possible punishment. Jiguro knew that."
"It doesn't have to be that way, you know." Tanda felt his frustration welling in him, the helplessness that he knew all too well. "You're doing this to yourself – no one is punishing you. You can leave all this behind you and be whatever you want to be."
"I can't, actually." Balsa set her bowl down and grabbed both the healer's hands, much to his surprise. "So this is what I can offer you, Tanda. This and no more. I'm not going to pretend differently – you deserve better than that. I know it isn't very much, but neither of us is getting any younger and I'm not going to let you waste your life waiting for something that will never happen."
"Balsa, what… What are you saying, exactly? Are you leaving?"
"I'm giving you the choice." She said evenly. "But I think you should know that the life you would choose is only going to be half a life. I'll never be more than I am right now – the person you've known since we were children. Don't imagine that I ever will be."
"I don't believe that." He whispered.
"Then choose differently. I refuse to be held responsible for making you miserable."
"Balsa, I-" A sharp pain resounded in his skull, as if he had been struck. The healer took his head in his hands, panting.
"Tanda! What is it, are you all right?"
The pain receded, and now it was as if there were voices in his head, calling out to him. He lurched to his feet and stumbled towards the door of the hut. "Tanda!"
"It's the Yona Ro Gai." He whispered. "The water dwellers. It's a message from Nayug."
"Nayug?" Balsa's astonished shout was as if from a great distance. "Tanda – wait!"
"The pond." Tanda teetered outside and to the edge of the small pond at the center of the vale. He dropped to his knees. "I have to listen."
"Tanda, be careful."
Nodding, the healer began chanting softly in the Yakue language. Then, quickly, he took a deep breath and plunged his face below the surface of the pond.
Though the little body of water was shallow and murky, Tanda's eyes beheld an endless blue depth, serenely beautiful and terrifying, seeming to disappear into the very center of the earth. Nayug. After a moment he could see a strange creature swimming towards him, one he had seen once before – in the Aoyumi, deep in the mountains near Blue Lake. It was a Yona Ro Gai.
The creature began speaking to him in its strange, ululating drone. As it did so, a series of images began to appear in Tanda's mind. A great sense of disbelief and then dread to overwhelm him. The creature continued to speak, filling Tanda's mind with its own thoughts. Finally, the healer could take no more and pulled his head from the water, falling onto his back and gasping desperately for air.
