He awoke to the sound of birdsong and the sight of mottled sun streaming through the small windows of the hut. He lay still for several moments, waking only slowly, feeling as if he had been away from his body for a long time.

Chagum slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, yawning and stretching as he did. He felt the sluggishness of someone waking from a too-long sleep, but the ache in his head was barely noticeable and he could feel that the pains of their journey had largely been left behind. It was the most restful sleep the boy had enjoyed for many months.

Chagum looked over at Balsa and an unbidden smile came to his face, the great joy he felt in his heart to be near her manifesting itself. Her color was better now – some of the pallor had left her face and the darkness beneath her eyes had lessened. He stared at her for several moments before quietly extracting himself from his bedding.

A small pile of clothes, simple and smelling of the sun, sat next to his bed. It was samue in the style of the villagers and the Yogo peasantry – a tunic of steel blue with a sash of black, drab gray trousers. They looked worn, durable and – to Chagum's eager eyes - extremely comfortable. Chagum stood, took a quick glance behind him at Balsa and, seeing her eyes closed, gratefully slipped out of the heavy royal robe he'd worn the past three days and nights.

The boy had slid into the trousers – a bit large on him –and was reaching for the tunic when he heard Balsa's voice, thick with sleep, from behind him. "What are those marks?"

"Balsa!" he squeaked, glaring reproachfully over his shoulder. "No fair. I thought you were asleep!"

She was sitting up, a hard look on her face as she stared at his back. "What were those bruises, Chagum?"

"I thought they'd have faded by now." Chagum said softly. "It's been a couple of weeks."

"Since what? Tell me."

The boy sighed deeply and looked at his feet. "It's nothing, Balsa. My father has me beaten sometimes. When I displease him."

"Displease him?" Her voice was a low growl.

"Please Balsa – it's nothing to worry over. I'm used to it."

"He beats you till you bruise. This is the man who claims to be the hand of God on Earth."

"Balsa-"

"Chagum." Balsa's strong arms were around his neck, holding him to her, and the boy silently let her. "I cannot imagine the mind of a man who would be displeased to have a son like you."

Chagum breathed deep and shut his eyes tightly, calming his breathing. Balsa continued to hold him to her and he felt the even rhythm of her own breaths, focused on them to steady his emotions. "Are you… Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine, Chagum. I've never felt stronger."

"Really?" he smiled over his shoulder. "You're better?"

"It takes more than a sword blow to strike me down. But I'm starving."

"Me too." The boy laughed.

"Finish getting dressed – and give me some privacy to do the same. I'm sure Nanda-san will have some broiled fish and rice for breakfast."

After breakfast – a simple but utterly satisfying meal of tiny broiled fish, rice and pickles – Chagum and Balsa walked out into the center of the little village, little more than a large circle of thatched huts surrounded by cultivated fields. The air was calm and cool under scudding high clouds and the maples of the surrounding forest were in a full symphony or brilliant color. Balsa looked fitter by far than when they'd arrived at the village, and appeared to walk with a minimal amount of pain. Chagum felt a rush of gratitude at the sight and took her hand in his own as they walked.

There were few Yakue in the village – Chagum was again surprised by how few – and those who were consisted mostly of the very young and the very old. They still looked upon him – with fair complexion and cool blue eyes – with unabashed curiosity, but the boy at least felt less conspicuous than he had in his awful red robe. "Balsa, should we tell them who I am?"

"Well, now – what do you think?"

The boy considered for a moment. "It could cause them trouble if we did, couldn't it? Maybe we shouldn't."

The Spearwielder nodded approvingly. "I think that's right."

"They must have figured out something's going on – especially the way I was dressed when we got here."

"Well –we couldn't very well have brought you into the village naked, could we?" Balsa smiled. "They're smart people – they know you're some sort of noble, I'm sure. But the elder approves of you, and hopefully no one here will recognize your face."

"Will we stay long?"

"We'll have to discuss what to do next – but no. I don't think we will."

The elder shuffled over to greet them, puffing on a small wooden pipe. "Well, now – you look like a proper young Yakue lad now, don't you Child? You look better, the both of you."

"Thanks to your hospitality, Nanda-sama." Balsa bowed low and Chagum followed suit. "Where is Tanda?"

"He's gone down to help with the yamaimo harvest. He'll be in the lower fields on the north terraces."

"I'll help!" Chagum interjected.

The elder puffed his pipe thoughtfully. "That would not be appropriate for a guest, young master. We would not ask you to work while you enjoy our hospitality."

"I want to. Balsa – will you show me?"

"What – you think I know how to do everything?" she laughed.

"You don't know how to harvest them?"

"Well, as it happens – I do. Would Nanda-sama permit an exception – for educational purposes?"

"If the boy wishes – I shall relent." He bowed. "We are grateful."

"Come on, then." Balsa sighed, leading the boy towards the north terraces. "I'd rather see you getting some rest, though."

"I'm rested." The boy grabbed her hand again, embarrassed but unable to suppress his desire to quantify Balsa's presence at every opportunity. The soft sounds of harvest songs could be heard in the air – very high voices all, women and young children. Chagum strained to hear Tanda's voice among them but could not pick it out.

They passed a small pile of bamboo poles of various lengths at the edge of the trail, and Chagum stopped, staring. "What is it?" Balsa asked.

"Balsa. Spar with me?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Spar with me." The boy whispered, urgently. "Please."

"Here? Why?"

Now that the idea was in his head, the boy wanted badly for it to happen. Needed it to happen for reasons he could not understand. "Please, Balsa? Just for a few minutes?" He picked up one of the shorter lengths of bamboo and hefted it in his hands. "I know your shoulder's hurt but you don't need both arms to spar with me – just use your right. Please?"

"This is very silly." The Spearwielder scowled. "What's gotten into your head?" Seeing the pleading look in his eyes, she sighed and chose one of the bamboo poles. "What a strange boy you are, Chagum."

They squared their bodies to each other, Chagum with both hands on his bamboo as if he were holding a spear, Balsa wielding hers in her right as if a sword. Though she did not speak, Chagum could hear her voice – urging him to calm his breathing, to center his focus. He felt the suppleness in his arms, the spring in his legs. Then Balsa came at him, a backhand blow that his parried with his bamboo spear, and the hollow wood came together with a resounding crash.

.

In the field below, Tanda looked up from the sweet potatoes he'd been harvesting, squinting in the direction the noise had come from. His jaw dropped, and he rose to his feet and shielded his eyes in the morning sun.

.

The force of the impact drove Chagum back a step and he felt a numbness in his hands for an instant, but he held his ground. "Good balance. Good center." Balsa nodded approvingly.

He feinted at her belly, saw her tense, and swung around to his left, his spear sweeping towards Balsa's ankles. She leapt nimbly over the strike and thrust at his midsection in the same motion but he ducked to his left and blow glanced off his shoulder. "Good! Good, Chagum. You've been practicing." There was a note of surprise in her voice.

"They couldn't stop me." The boy smiled. "They couldn't stop me from training my body, even if I had to do it after they all thought I was asleep or I had to sneak out before breakfast in the morning. You were there, Balsa."

"What?" a puzzled frown. She tried a double-strike, he blocked both. A men attack to his head, he dodged.

A great sense of vitality flooded through the boy, an overwhelming sense of being utterly alive. He laughed at the sheer joy of it, then launched into a series of strikes – everything he knew how to do. It was clumsy, and she blocked everything, blow by blow, be his energy did not flag and she was too busy parrying the nonstop barrage of thrusts and sweeps to counter at all. "Chagum!"

He laughed again, couldn't stop. He laughed until he was breathless and the bamboo dropped from Balsa's grasp and clattered to the ground. "What is this? You can't just laugh when you're sparring! It's not respectful." The Spearwielder was scowling but as Chagum kept laughing, an involuntary chuckle escaped her lips, then another.

The his own spear was on the ground and he took two quick strides to Balsa and his arms were wrapped around her, tightly as he could, and he was still laughing. "What kind of attack is this? Have you lost your mind?"

"Balsa!" He was laughing and he couldn't stop only it was into her neck, now, instead of into the open air.

"You're strong! I can't breathe, Chagum. Chagum!"

Somehow - he didn't feel the exact moment when – the boy wasn't laughing anymore, and he could feel tears on his face and now instead of laughter he could hear the sound of sobbing in his ears. And it was coming out of him a flood then, and he couldn't stop it – it was as powerful as anything he'd ever felt and it was almost good in a way, the way it felt. But it was all too much to process – all of the anger and all of the grief – and it decided to come out, seized the opportunity and would not be denied.

So Chagum cried as hard as he could, a flood of his tears on Balsa's neck and dampening her tunic, and he tried to say her name but he couldn't form any words at all so he just kept crying as hard as he could. His whole body was shaking with the force of it, is until his chest ached and he struggled for breath. She said nothing loud enough for him to hear over his own racket, but he felt his feet leave the ground and she was holding him, supporting all of his weight, and he liked the way that felt.

The emotions racking his body lost none of their raw power, but his strength was finally starting to give out and Chagum felt the intensity of his crying begin to subside at last. He continued to hiccup and his eyes felt like they were on fire and his nose was completely stopped, forcing him to suck air in desperately through his mouth. But his tears stopped at last and the tremors calmed, and still she held him and said nothing, just rubbed the back of his neck softly and let him be, not rushing him.

"You… You can…put me down." He finally whispered, his throat as raw as if he'd swallowed a bowl of needles.

"There's no hurry."

"Balsa, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry when there's nothing to be sorry for." She whispered into his ear. He sobbed again, once. "I've never seen you like this, Chagum."

"I couldn't help it. Sorry."

"You're going to need to be strong. You're going to need to be brave, too – can you do that for me?"

"Yes!" he rasped with as much force as he could muster, which wasn't a lot.

"I knew that. You always have before, so why not now?"

"I will. I promise, Balsa." She gently set him on his feet and he opened his eyes, squinted at her and was alarmed at the state of her tunic. "But later, OK? Not this second."

"That's fine." She chuckled. "What a mess you've made of yourself!"

"Sorry!"

"Do you still want to pick yamaimo?"

"Yes." He sighed, feebly wiping his eyes and wishing there'd been no one else in Yogo but he and Balsa for the past five minutes. "But not where Tanda is, OK? Not with me… like this."

"OK." She took his hand. "We'll find a nice quiet spot and I'll show you how to do it. We Kanbalese aren't known as great potato pickers, but I can hold my own." Chagum smiled weakly and allowed Balsa to lead him into the fields.

.

Tanda stared after them for a moment until they disappeared amongst the plants, eyed wide, then dropped to his knees among the yamaimo plants again.

*************************************************************

By the time they were finished Chagum's hands were stained dark brown almost to the elbows from two hours spent digging the gnarled tubers from their subterranean nests, and the boy was drenched in sweat despite the cool the autumn weather. Still, on the walk back to the village he looked as happy to Balsa's eyes as she'd seen him since their days at the water mill.

"Don't let the locals see you smiling like that." She teased him. "No self-respecting farm boy would ever be pleased to have to pick yams all morning."

"I liked it." The boy smiled. "Its fun being covered with dirt." He took a long look around the terraced fields and his voice became more serious. "But I didn't see many boys out here harvesting – did you?"

"No, now that you mention it… I haven't seen any young men since we arrived at the village." The boy's face darkened considerably at her words and he fell silent.

Truth be told, the Spearwielder was more than a little concerned for Chagum's state of mind. He'd been through a shocking few days – and more shocks were coming, soon. By the sounds of things he'd had a rough time of it at the palace – as if his mother's death weren't enough. He was clearly elated to be with her again, but his moods seemed to be prone to sudden shifts – and the outburst she'd just witnessed was like nothing she'd seen from the even-tempered child before. He's at that age. The changes start to do weird things to them… Hard enough to go through under normal circumstances.

Their path merged with the one from the north terraces, and Tanda arrived to join them for their journey back to the village with a large basket of yamaino on his back. "Ho, Balsa, Chagum. You look like you've been working hard – one of you anyway."

"Someone had to supervise."

Chagum kicked at this dirt on the path, not looking up. "Tanda?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are there no men in the village? I hardly even see any boys as old as me."

"Well then." The healer sighed. "That's not the best question to ask right now."

"It's because they all got drafted into the army, isn't it?"

"What?" Balsa gasped. "Is this true?"

"Balsa-"

"It's because of my father." Chagum said in a low voice. "Isn't it? His men came and took all the men and the older boys away to join his army."

"I suppose it was unlikely you wouldn't know." Tanda answered in a soft voice. "Yes – they came through a few weeks ago, Nanda-sama said. The villagers begged to have men to harvest the fields, given the time of year. But they were refused."

"What is this?" Balsa snarled. "They've never shown much interest in Yakue men for the army before – they didn't want to associate with them. Now all of a sudden they're all conscripted in the middle of the fall harvest?" She turned to Chagum. "You knew? That's why you wanted to help harvest the fields, isn't it!"

"I'm sorry."

"Balsa, leave him be."

"Tanda." Chagum said in a hoarse whisper. "I know it doesn't help, but I didn't want to see this happen. I told my father it was bad, that it would… That the villages wouldn't be able to live."

"Of course you did, Chagum. I never doubted it for a second – you know better than that."

"I tried to stop him – I spoke at council against it, but…"

"Chagum!" Balsa seized him by the shoulders. "Did this displease your father?" He looked at her sharply. "I'm sorry. I know you'd never support something stupid and cruel like that."

"That doesn't help these people though – does it? Or any of the other Yakue villages. So in the end I was really no good at all to anyone."

"I know you tried." Tanda patted his shoulder. "You're just a kid, you know – you can't take responsibility for everything that happens."

"I tried…"

"It is weird, though. Why does the Mikado want all these extra soldiers all of a sudden?"

"That's a good question." Balsa frowned. "Especially when the Crown Prince is attacked right in the open on the northern road by assassins in the uniform of Rota."

"Rota?" Tanda frowned.

"Balsa?"

They'd arrived back in the circle of huts, where a small group of children and old men were consolidating meager bundles of yamaino. "Let's not discuss this now, you two." Balsa said. "We'll discuss it in the hut later – when we're deciding where we go from here."

Chagum went and added his basket of potatoes to the pile and bowed low to the others, who appeared to be amused as they returned the gesture. Then a girl of perhaps Chagum's age appeared from one of the huts and gaped at the boy. "You!"

Chagum stared back at the girl, speechless. "Nimka?" Tanda gasped, stunned at the sight of his young cousin from Toumi Village.

"Tanda-san!" The girl bowed low. "And Balsa-sama is here too." She looked at Chagum and blushed. "And His Highness. I'm glad to see you well." A small crowed of the villagers had clustered around the others.

"Damn." Balsa spat. "So much for that. Nimka – what are you doing here?" It didn't escape Balsa's notice that Chagum was blushing as well.

"A few of us came down from Toumi Village – to help with the harvest. We have more boys in our village and our harvest is earlier so high in the mountains. So I came with two boys and my great-uncle, to help in the fields. By the shortcut." She peered at Chagum and smiled shyly. "You remember, Highness – the one I showed you."

"Uh… Can you please call me Chagum?" he stammered.

"If you wish." The girl put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "You are very dirty, Chagum."

"Oh! I've been… Picking. Yams." Chagum blushed an even deeper red.

"Uh oh." Balsa muttered. She wrapped her arm around the boy's shoulder. "Come on – let's get you cleaned up a little and get some lunch."

"OK." The boy bowed to Nimka, unwittingly slipping into his royal persona and speech. "I am glad to see you again." She grinned in reply.

"Well – that little secret's out of the bag now." Balsa led Chagum over to the bamboo wash basin at the edge of the cluster of huts. "Everyone in the village will know by dinner."

"Will it be all right?"

"It'll have to be – not like we have a choice." Balsa smiled wryly, kneeling and directing the boy to follow suit. "Take off your tunic and hold out your arms."

"I can do it myself, Balsa!"

"Hush up and do as you're told – Highness." She laughed. The boy obeyed a little peevishly and she poured a bucket of the sun-warmed water over his arms and started to scrub with her hands. "You did a good thing, helping them with the harvest. But you should have told me if you knew what was going on."

"I'm sorry. I felt bad about it and… I was worried you'd think it was my fault."

"That would never happen – there's no way I'd think that." Balsa sighed. "Never. Now lean over at the waist – I don't want to get water all over the rest of you." He obeyed and the Spearwielder scrubbed the caked mud and dirt from his face and neck. "Better. You're starting to look almost like a prince again."

"Balsa?"

"Mmm?"

"She's different, isn't she? From last time?"

"What's that now?"

"Nimka." Chagum smiled. "She's different."

Uh oh. "Hmmm – is she now? And how's that?"

"I don't know." Chagum blushed. "Her…shape."

"I don't think you should be worrying about her shape, Chagum."

"What? Why?"

The Spearwielder couldn't help but smile. "Because it's time for lunch, that's why. Come on – that tunic is still filthy but it'll have to do for now. Put it back on and let's get some food."

*****

Chagum was certain of it – she was different, all right.

Different from girls at the palace, of course – not that the Crown Prince had much interaction with any of them. He had no sisters and there were no girls of his own age among the various imperial maids. There were all very old – eighteen or more, he guessed – and they were as remote to him as any other adults on the grounds. And always swathed in robes or kimono from head to toe.

Nimka was most certainly different from them. But she was different from herself, too. The girl had been kind to him at Toumi Village, but Chagum's memories of that visit were far from pleasant and if there's been anything remarkable about the girl physically, he certainly didn't remember having noticed. Surely she couldn't have changed that much in a little over a year –and yet he remembered her as basically a darker-skinned version of himself, with a higher voice. Which she most certainly was not now.

Why was he thinking about this, with everything that was going on? It was irritating.

Balsa was irritating, too. Nimka and the others from her village were with them at the elder's hut for their midday meal – two boys about Chagum's age or a bit younger and a man whose age Chagum couldn't guess at, but certainly older than his father. Chagum found himself sitting next to Nimka and they talked a bit, mostly about nonsense things like yamaino picking and his ponytail – which she said was handsome – and the boy caught Balsa several times in the act of staring at him with a small smile on her face.

It was irritating.

He had wanted to go back out to the fields in the afternoon and help Nimka with the harvest. It felt good to be near her – strange, but good. He liked seeing her in the simple Yakue clothing she wore that was akin to his own – the trousers designed to stop at the knee, though his own were too big and hung to his ankle. On Nimka though, the lower half of her muscular legs were quite noticeable. It made Chagum feel strangely light and a little dizzy to see them.

Balsa had insisted that he stay behind in the village, with Tanda. As he watched, feeling sour and testy as Nimka and the others disappeared down the hillside, he asked her why.

"Because we have serious matters to discuss with the elder, that's why. And because I can't afford to have you too distracted when we discuss them."

'What do you mean – distracted?"

She smiled that irritating smile again. "I don't want you to get too involved in the harvest, that's all. Once young men your age get a taste of farming, they might not have much time for anything else."

"Balsa, that's silly!"

"Silly or not, we have to figure out our plan – and soon. And now that your little secret is out in the open, we probably need to leave here as soon as we can."

"Oh." He sighed, having known the truth of it all along. "Too bad - it's a nice place."

"Yes – the place is very nice. But I'm beginning to feel as if we've already stayed too long."

"I quite agree." A gravelly voice called out. Chagum turned and, to his astonishment, Shaman Torogai strolled into the village center, puffing her pipe. "I was afraid I might find you here, having fun and wasting time."