Guardian of the God - God's Appearance - Part 1 Chapter 3 - Unlucky Children

  Guardian of the God

-

God's Appearance

(Book 5 of the Guardian of the Spirit Series)

 

Author: Uehashi Nahoko

Translator: Ainikki the Archivist

 

  Part 1 - Child of Disaster

Chapter 3 - Unlucky Children

    

The wound to Balsa's side closely resembled a bite from a wild animal. Tanda washed it thoroughly with water that he'd dissolved medicinal herbs into, then stitched the deep gash securely closed. Despite this treatment, Balsa soon developed a high fever. He sat by her bed on the floor, monitoring her condition until late that night.

    When Balsa felt her fever rise, she reached out for Tanda's hand.

    "What's wrong?" Tanda asked as he took her hand and leaned forward.

    "Are those kids all right?" Balsa whispered hoarsely in his ear.

    "Yes, they're fine. Two more herbalists are staying here tonight. They agreed to help. They finished treating the children a while ago. The injury to the boy's hand was a lot like yours. He also has a fever."

    Balsa squeezed Tanda's hand. "Keep an eye on them. And don't let anyone else in the room with them."

    "Huh? Why?"

    "I don't...want...anyone to...hear what he says. During his fever."

    Tanda nodded in understanding.

    Balsa let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. She slept until the sun was high the next morning. When she awoke, she was completely disoriented. Everything seemed to spin slowly around her. Tanda helped her eat a thin rice gruel laced with more medicine; she felt somewhat better after eating it.

    "Sufar wanted to ask you something as soon as you felt up to it," Tanda said. "Should I get him?"

    Balsa placed her empty bowl on the floor, then sat up against the wall for support. She nodded. Tanda left the room and returned shortly after, leading Sufar.

    "Are you all right?" Sufar asked.

    "Thanks for your concern, but I'm completely fine."

    "I'm glad to hear it. You're clearly stronger than most people." Sufar sat down cross-legged in front of her in the Yogo style. "What happened last night? Is there anything you can tell me?"

    Balsa stared at Sufar for a long moment, then said, "I was passing by that room when I heard someone scream. One of the men burst through the door and fell into the hallway, dead. He was bleeding from his throat. I fled to the lower courtyard, but something followed me. It cut my side open."

    "What was it? What attacked you?"

    Balsa shook her head. "As to that...I'm sorry, but I'm not sure. I know that it attacked me, but you and the kids were the only living beings I saw in that room. I could hear it moving around me like it was alive, but I couldn't see it."

    Sufar glanced down at Balsa's wound. "Everyone else that was attacked had their throats ripped out. Why were you alone injured in the side?"

    "It was definitely aiming for my neck. When I protected my neck, I felt its intent to get my guard down by attacking my wrists. When I dropped my hands to avoid that attack, it cut me open. Whatever it is, it likes blood. It smelled like...like blood. And death."

    "I see," Sufar said. "The neck bleeds a lot when it's cut, because of the large veins and blood vessels concentrated there. So do the wrists, for the same reason. Both places are usually also bare and unprotected by clothing or armor, making them easy to target. But why were you attacked in the first place? And why were you alone spared?"

    "No idea."

    Sufar narrowed his eyes at Balsa's curt answer. "Why were you carrying your spear in the hallway? You didn't have it at dinner."

    Balsa shrugged and didn't say another word.

    Sufar stood staring at her for a long moment, but finally muttered, "I hope you recover soon." He left the room.

    Tanda's arms were folded across his chest. As the sound of Sufar's footsteps faded, he unfolded his arms and asked, "Why don't you trust Sufar?"

    "I'm not sure myself. I just had the strangest feeling... I mean, he was standing right in the middle of the room with those corpses, examining their wounds. If it was you that was there, wouldn't you at least check to make sure the kids were safe and unharmed first? It seemed like he didn't even realize the kids were there." She paused. "And he's wrong. I'm not the only one that survived the attack. Those kids did, too—though I don't know why the attacker hurt the boy like that."

    Silver flecks of light speckled Balsa's vision. The buzzing in her ears was irritatingly loud. She felt awful. She crawled back over to her bed and stretched out.

    When she looked up, Tanda's face was directly in front of hers. She saw no trace of his usual kind and carefree expression. His eyes were fixed on her with utter seriousness.

    Balsa attempted a smile. "I'm all right. The bleeding's stopped."

    "That's not what I'm worried about," he said softly. "Like you, I have a strange feeling that something is very wrong here. When I was helping you up yesterday, your hands were cold like ice. I've never seen the expression you had on your face before." He reached out hesitantly and touched Balsa's cheek. His eyes flashed with sudden conviction. In a deadly serious tone, he whispered, "I think it's best if we avoid those two kids."

    Balsa's eyes widened at Tanda's unexpected words. "Why?"

    "I know you're concerned about them. I am, too. But...well, I'm not much good as a magic weaver, but even I can tell those aren't ordinary kids."

    Balsa smiled bitterly. "It just...doesn't seem like you. Are you saying we should abandon them?"

    Tanda didn't return the smile. "I think I understand why Sufar didn't notice them. The stench of death covers both of them like a shroud."

    Tanda's fingers trembled against her cheek. "I'm scared. I don't know what happened, but those men were killed instantly. Even you were attacked, and you weren't even in the same room. That girl escaped all of it without so much as a scratch. Compared to your wound, the boy's was much less serious." Tanda took a slow breath. "When I tried to touch the girl's soul, I was shocked. I can't explain in words how horrifying it was. I shudder just remembering it.

    "My abilities as a magic weaver are immature at best, but I've seen plenty of cursed people before. I've also seen people that have been possessed by evil spirits. What I felt from that girl's soul is entirely different from either of those. I've never encountered anything like it before. I'm not just worried that something terrible might happen; I  know it will. That girl is incredibly dangerous.

    "I hate to say something so cruel, but those children strike me as something like carriers of a terrible plague. Anyone that stays in contact with them for too long will end up dead." Tanda's words came slower. "So please. Let's not get involved. I don't want to lose you."

    Tanda's grave seriousness affected her like a blow to the chest. Balsa reached up and pulled his face close to hers, then kissed him on the cheek close to the side of his mouth. "I won't die so easily," she whispered. "Besides, I'm planning to live at least as long as Torogai."

 

 

    Sufar entered his room at the inn and closed the door behind him. A young woman sitting in the room lifted her head. This was Shihana, Sufar's daughter. She was the same woman that had inspected the bodies of the dead merchants in the room from the hallway the previous night.

    Shihana had a slight build, but she was long-limbed and strong. She and Sufar had the same penetrating eyes. Most people would probably consider Shihana's face beautiful, if not for those eyes. Taking her in from a short distance away, her peculiar way of staring through people and things was readily apparent. She had a habit of making other people uncomfortable with that stare.

    "What happened to that woman?" she asked.

    Sufar sat down on a soft rug on the floor. "I learned nothing from her that we don't already know." He explained what Balsa had told him in plain terms. "Did you learn anything?" he asked.

    "The merchants had other friends, but they all fled last night, well before the government officials came to investigate the incident. It seems the merchants were working with the Blue Hand. Everyone knows it's dangerous to associate with them, so the official story is that they got involved in a bit of business that went bad—bad enough to get them killed. All their allies managed to get away; I didn't hear of a single one that's been caught."

    Sufar nodded. "I see. Balsa must have known they were with the Blue Hand. She might have encountered them before, given her line of work. That's probably why she was outside their room with her spear."

    When Sufar remembered how Balsa had cradled the Tal boy's head until he'd calmed down, his lips twitched upward in a slight smile . "Balsa is dangerous, but unexpectedly soft-hearted. Maybe she saw the children and felt compelled to protect them."

    Shihana cast her eyes down and thought through all the details of the situation. She looked up and met Sufar's eyes. "Dad, we should try to bind that girl's soul when she's unconscious—now, while she's still asleep."

    Sufar looked at her with a wrinkled brow. "You're as terrifying as that girl for even suggesting such a thing, Shihana."

    "We need to hurry. If we wait until she wakes up, we'll lose our chance."

    Sufar scratched his beard. "It won't be easy. And if we do it here, Tanda will notice. He'll interfere."

    Quietly, dispassionately, Shihana asked, "Why does that matter? The herbalist is essentially powerless."

    Sufar's expression became stern. "You're mistaken. Put aside what he appears to be. He has talent as a magic weaver. His master is the most skilled magic weaver in all of New Yogo. Our ties to that country's magic weavers are weak, but if we killed Tanda to prevent him from interfering—or from talking—it would be the same as declaring war."

    Shihana closed her mouth sharply and narrowed her eyes. Sufar noticed her using the thumb and index finger of her left hand to perform delicate circular movements. This was a habit she indulged in whenever she thought deeply about something. She stared into space as if she was absorbed in the spectacle of a tarzu tournament. The game of tarzu was played by the Rota royal family and lords for the purposes of learning military strategy, but other people played, too. Each player had to do their best to read their opponent's moves before they happened in order to stay ahead. There were many moves and combinations of moves available to each player, so every match was unique and complicated.

    Shihana was a master of tarzu. She had not lost a single game since she was twenty years old. Sufar had once asked her the secret to her great success at the game. She'd told him in an offhand, careless way, "All you need to do is imagine the shape your victory will take, then guide your opponent into the right position with your own moves. That's all there is to it."

    When she'd told him that, Sufar had been surprised—and a little afraid . He'd never forgotten her words. As he watched her deliberate, Sufar listed off other factors that they needed to consider. "Tanda and his friend aren't our only concern. We have no idea what will happen if we use magic on that girl's soul. Until we understand what's at stake, it's too dangerous to even try."

    Shihana faced Sufar squarely and nodded as she stood up. "Let's get Mark and the others together. They should be close. If I take a horse I can round a few of them up and be back here in three days." She frowned like she'd just remembered something. "But then I'd be leaving you here alone all that time—is that all right, dad?"

    Sufar jutted out his chin and all but pushed her out the door. Get out of here already. After she was gone, Sufar unlocked a cabinet in the room that contained some of his magic weaving supplies. He rummaged through the cabinet and retrieved a small bag of purple powder. He picked it up and left his room, intending to pay Asra and Chikisa a visit.

    When he arrived at their room, he stood outside and listened for a few moments to make sure they were still asleep. When he slipped into the room, he noticed that the latticed window shutters were closed. There were no other light sources. The entire room was reduced to dim shadows.

    Sufar directed his nearly silent footfalls toward a small lump of Yogo-style bedding called shilya that was laid out in the corner of the room. He saw the girl lying face-up under her blankets with her eyes closed. The sound of her breathing was so faint it was almost nonexistent.

    Her brother was lying on the other side of the room. The sheen of his fever sweat was faintly visible in the dark. He tossed and turned in his sleep. Sufar crossed over to the boy's side of the room and stood by his bedside, then retrieved his pouch of purple powder from his pocket.

    Sufar took a pinch of the powder from the pouch and ground it between his fingers. Purple smoke rose in a thin line from his fingers and spread a sweet scent through the room. Sufar muttered something low in his throat, causing the smoke to twist and writhe like a living thing as it settled over the boy's face.

 

 

    Chikisa was dreaming. In his dream, there was a dizzying array of shifting locations: the place he and Asra had stayed with the slave merchants before they died, the slave caravan he and Asra had traveled with on their way to the inn, and the prison before that.

    Chikisa's body convulsed in pain. He knew that he was dreaming. He kept trying to wake up, but an unfamiliar voice kept questioning him about the past and wouldn't let him wake. He resisted the voice's demands and tried to force open his heavy eyelids. After what felt like a long struggle, Chikisa was finally successful. He awoke to find a man sitting next to his bed.

    "You're a stubborn one," the man muttered. Chikisa noticed that he was smiling slightly. He got up and left the room without another word.

    Chikisa took shallow breaths as he watched the man leave. He was sure the man wasn't a hallucination brought on by his fever. An unusual sweet scent filled the room; he'd never smelled it before.

    Who was that? What were they doing?

    Chikisa's eyes snapped open. He quickly turned on his side to check on Asra. She was deeply asleep. He heard the soft sound of the door sliding open and sat up. He thought that maybe the man from before had returned, but it was the healer that had stitched up the gash on Chikisa's hand. He had a kind and gentle way of speaking. Chikisa remembered that his name was Tanda.

    "Is it all right if I come in?" Tanda whispered. "I wanted to check on you."

    His Rotan was faltering and slow, but his pronunciation was solid enough for Chikisa to understand what he was saying. He nodded.

    Tanda had done his best to approach quietly so he wouldn't wake the children, so he was a little surprised to find Chikisa awake. He frowned a little and asked, "Has someone else been here?"

    Chikisa tried to answer, but his throat was so dry and parched that he couldn't get words out.

    "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Tanda said quickly. "Don't force yourself. Here, have something to drink and just relax, all right?" He helped Chikisa sit up fully in bed and coaxed a thick medicinal liquid down his throat slowly, a little at a time. The cool drink soothed and coated Chikisa's fever-parched throat.

    As Tanda supported Chikisa's head to help him drink, he noticed the weakness of the boy's neck and shoulder muscles. His heart ached for him. He'd told Balsa to avoid and maybe even abandon these kids; some part of him believed that doing so was still the safest course of action, but he couldn't suppress his pity for them.

    Tanda smelled something strange. Chikisa looked up at him and tried to say something, but Tanda didn't quite catch it. He brought his face closer to Chikisa so he could hear better.

    "Thank...you," Chikisa choked out. His voice was hoarse and strained, but he could speak.

    Tanda smiled. "You're welcome."

    "Someone else," Chikisa gasped out, "was here. Sitting by me." His voice got stronger and clearer as he spoke.

    Tanda's expression tightened with worry. "Who was it?"

    "A man. It was dark. I couldn't see."

    "Was he about as tall as me?"

    Chikisa thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Shorter."

    Probably Sufar, then , Tanda thought. The sweet smell hanging in the air came from grinding up the root of a tree that the Yakoo called tajam. Mixed with the tree's resin, the powdered root could be used by magic weavers to manipulate the dreams of a sleeping person. If the magic weaver was powerful enough, they'd be able to touch the sleeper's soul and share their dream.

    "Mr. Tanda?" Chikisa asked.

    Hearing his name, Tanda returned his attention to Chikisa. "Yes?"

    "Is that woman all right?"

    At first Tanda wasn't sure which woman he was talking about, but then Chikisa mimed cutting his side.

    "Oh. Yes, she's all right now."

    Doubt mixed with worry showed in Chikisa's frown, so Tanda added, "I promise you, she's all right. She's very strong."

    Balsa had trained her body well past the physical limits of most people. She was also used to being injured and recovering. Her fever had already broken. In halting Rotan, Tanda conveyed as much of this as he could to Chikisa to reassure him.

    The boy's expression was pinched and nervous when he started listening to Tanda's explanation, but it had cleared by the time Tanda finished speaking. He blinked sleepily up at Tanda. Tanda helped him lie back down.

    Chikisa turned his face toward his sister. It was clear to Tanda that he wanted to reach out to her, but feared waking her if he did. Tanda carefully arranged Chikisa's legs so that they angled toward Asra, so that he could at least watch over her as she slept.

    The previous night, Tanda had used magic weaving to attempt to touch the girl's soul. Even remembering the experience made him shudder until he felt like he was turning inside-out. When he'd reached in to touch her soul, the muscles along his spine had frozen solid like they'd been encased in ice. The girl's soul had been covered by a thin barrier like skin. He knew that touching the skin would break the barrier and release what was on the other side.

    Tanda had hastily withdrawn the touch of his own soul, feeling a terror strong enough to rip out his heart and shatter his bones as he separated himself from the presence that had lodged itself inside the girl. He feared whatever lurked on the other side of the barrier. The scent it gave off was overpowering and evil. Balsa had described it as the stench of blood and death, but Tanda didn't think that description fully captured it.

    He didn't want to touch the girl. He didn't understand how such a girl had come to exist. If she'd simply been cursed, Tanda could help her; he knew how to break curses. He also knew how to ward against and drive off evil spirits. What afflicted the girl wasn't either of those things, so he had no idea what to do. She was incredibly quiet, but he could hear her breathing softly in her sleep. The signs of long neglect and undernourishment were plain to see in her face and hands. Tanda didn't know how long it would be safe to let her sleep without eating or drinking anything.

    "The last time this happened, she didn't wake up for two days," Chikisa whispered.

    Tanda turned to face Chikisa, who regarded him with an expression of fear—and distrust. He'd probably said this to Tanda unthinkingly, out of concern for his sister; perhaps he regretted saying it.

    Tanda wanted to ask, "The last time this happened?", but he swallowed down the words before he could say them. Chikisa didn't want him to ask that question. If he put together everything he knew so far, he could try to make a guess. He didn't want to think about this situation at all, but Sufar seemed to think that these kids had something to do with the Shintadan massacre.

    If he asked about that, Tanda was certain that Chikisa would clam up and refuse to speak. Chikisa's trust in him was new and fragile. Besides, Tanda was no skilled interrogator, especially not of children.

    "How did she wake up...after that time?" Tanda asked.

    Chikisa chose his next words carefully. "I walked with her on my back while she slept. I fell. I was hungry and tired and fell into a ditch. She rolled into the meadow on the side of the road. That's when she woke up."

    "How did she feel?"

    "Dead tired. She could barely move. I was afraid she might die."

    Tanda thought for a moment, then directed his entire attention to Chikisa because he needed to impress on him the seriousness of what they needed to do. "She needs water, at least. If she doesn't get it soon, she might die. Do you understand?"

    Chikisa nodded.

    "Is it dangerous to wake her?" Tanda asked.

    Chikisa looked up at Tanda with wide-open eyes. Tanda met his eyes and held his stare. Chikisa sighed and shook his head. "No, it's not dangerous. I'll do it."

    Tanda gave Chikisa a hand up and helped him cross the room to his sister's bed. Chikisa touched her hair and said in her ear, "Asra! Asra! It's time to get up! Asra!"

    There was no response. Chikisa looked up at Tanda.

    "It looks like we have to wait a little longer," Tanda said. "But please call me as soon as she wakes up."

    Chikisa nodded. Tanda got to his feet and prepared to leave, but Chikisa called him back before he opened the door. "Mr. Tanda? Um, about the room...and the medicine..." Chikisa's voice trailed off. "We, um, don't have any money."

    Tanda's eyebrows shot straight up. He grinned. "Don't worry about it. I'll lend you the money. When you become an adult and get a job, you can pay me back then. Is that fair?"

    Chikisa stared intensely at Tanda and lifted his uninjured hand. He placed a finger each on his forehead, nose, and mouth, then removed them and rested his forehead against the floor. He'd undoubtedly just thanked Tanda in some way, but Tanda had never seen that gesture of thanks before.

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