Guardian of the God - Return from the Hard Journey - Part 2 Chapter 2 - Sharp-Eared Tajiru

 Guardian of the God

-

Return from the Hard Journey

(Book 6 of the Guardian of the Spirit Series)

Author: Uehashi Nahoko

Translator: Ainikki the Archivist

 

 Part 2 - The Trap

Chapter 2 - Sharp-Eared Tajiru

   Balsa and Asra put on shuma face coverings and brought their hoods up all the way so that only their eyes were visible before heading to the market. The Trader’s Market was surrounded on all sides by flat grassland, so even its high walls weren’t enough to keep out the cold wind. Most of the people Balsa and Asra passed were as bundled up as the two of them were, so they didn’t stick out nearly as much as Asra had feared. 

    The general layout of the Trader’s Market resembled that of many small towns in Kanbal. The outer walls limited how large the city could grow. Inns for travelers lined the outer walls on every side; the market itself was in the very center inside a huge circular building with a domed roof to shed snow. All trade, buying and selling was done inside that building. Because of northern Rota’s long, harsh winters, many caravan owners and merchants had pooled their resources to build this completely indoor marketplace so that trade could be conducted year-round independent of weather.

    Jitan was a little further to the south; its market operated within the walls of the city’s castle. Asra knew that much; she understood markets having walls, but she’d never seen one with a roof over the entire thing before.

    Balsa led Asra through the large front-facing doors of the Trader’s Market. Asra’s mouth dropped open in shock. The ceiling was high and supported by many pillars; Asra could see that it was made of slatted wood woven together. There were no walls anywhere. Stores and food stands were lined up in front of Asra as far as her eyes could see.

    Asra heard a noise so loud that it hurt her ears. Merchants called out to customers and to one another, showing off items for sale; their voices echoed off the dome above, creating a cacophony of sound. There were small openings in the dome to let in light and air; white shafts of light illuminated the market from above. Asra saw dust particles dancing in the sunlight.

    Vegetables, dried fruit, grains and meat were all sold in food stores lined up in front of Asra and Balsa. There were also food stands that sold ready-made meals and fried foods. Weapons and armor were sold near the back of the dome. In between the food and weapons were furriers and clothiers selling furs, cloth, and finished clothing.

    At the very edges of the dome, Asra saw Tal fur traders. The curved edges of the dome hid most of their stores in shadow. Asra’s heart beat faster as she caught sight of them: there were so many. She’d never seen so many Tal people in one place. Not all of the people she saw looked like trappers; maybe some were merchants that bought their stock from other Tal people?

    My dad must have been like the Tal fur traders here. He went to markets to sell pelts.

    There were women selling furs as well. One of the women stared at Asra as she and Balsa passed. Asra wasn’t sure how she knew the woman was staring at her, specifically; her face was completely covered by her hood and shuma, but she could definitely feel the woman’s eyes on her.

    Balsa walked fast, so Asra had to pay attention and hurry to keep up. Asra walked past the woman staring at her without saying a word, but the woman’s eyes tracked Asra long after she walked by.

    Balsa also realized that the woman was staring at Asra, but she decided to ignore her. She didn’t know if associating with the Tal people gathered here would be a good idea or not, so she didn’t want to make a scene. The Tal people might know something that could be useful to her. Balsa decided to wait until full dark and choose a place to talk to them where they couldn’t be easily observed.

    Balsa followed the outer edge of the market until she neared the stores selling weapons. Huge numbers of spears and swords were displayed in a long line in front of her. These stores usually did the least business, so this particular place in the market was unusually quiet. For most people, buying weapons was more intimidating and expensive than buying food.

    A large screen separated the stores selling weapons from the ones selling cloth and furs. Balsa stepped around the screen and entered a surprisingly large clear space. One of the pillars supporting the ceiling formed a partial barrier on the far side and bright red cloth surrounded it on all sides, creating something like a walled interior room.

    There was a fire in the very center of the space. A man with skin the color of tanned leather sat on a long bench near the fire, smoking a pipe and drinking a cup of milk tea. He was a large man whose build tended more to fat than muscle. His eyes sparkled with intelligence, but his expression was guarded and closed-off.

    Balsa could hear a steady sound like water flowing through pipes somewhere out of sight.

    The man looked up at Balsa and Asra as they approached the fire. Asra squeezed Balsa’s hand tighter and hid behind her. As Balsa removed her face covering, the man’s eyes lit up in recognition.

    “Huh, is that Balsa the spear wielder I see? It’s been a long time.” His voice was loud and pitched low, like the sound of a cow lowing.

    “It really has. I hope you’ve been well, Tajiru.”

    Tajiru laughed. “Yeah, more or less.” He shifted in his seat and looked straight at Asra. “Is that your daughter? I find that hard to believe...unless she’s a bastard child? That seems more likely.”

    “Don’t be stupid, Tajiru. I know she’s wearing a shuma, but you should be able to tell that she’s Tal.” Balsa took a seat on a bench in front of Asra. “If you’re going to waste my time with such wrongheaded assumptions as that, how do you expect me to trust any of the information you have for sale?”

    Tajiru grinned at her. “Sharp as ever, I see.” His smile collapsed. “I’m sure you’re curious about something in particular. What is it?”

    Balsa shrugged. “I’m not sure if you have the information I need. Maybe I should go ask one of the Tal trappers I saw on my way over here.”    

    Tajiru scratched his beard. “Oh...um...”

    Balsa’s lips twitched upward in a tiny smile. “I know all about your bottomless appetite for news and information,” she said. “You’ll probably sell everything you know about us to the Tal traders as soon as we leave. Am I wrong?”

    Tajiru chuckled. “Well, probably. I owe you and Jiguro a lot, but he also screwed me over more times than I can count. It’s a good thing he saved my life so many times to balance that out.”

    Tajiru lowered his voice and began speaking in a more serious tone. “The second son of the Shahal clan came to me recently. He asked me to let him know if I saw a female spear wielder leading around a Tal girl.”

    Balsa frowned at this unexpected piece of news. Why would the Shahal clan be asking after her and Asra? There were hidden agendas here that she didn’t know or understand. Like the spreading roots of a tree, the scope of this situation kept stretching farther and deeper than she’d anticipated. A chill went up her spine.

    Tajiru smirked at her. “I take it you’re interested in hearing more about that?”

    Balsa nodded. “I actually thought that it was a magic weaver who was looking for me.”

    “A magic weaver?” Tajiru sounded genuinely surprised.

    “Do you know of a magic weaver called Sufar? He’s not much taller or broader than me, but he’s definitely a warrior as well as a magic weaver. He usually has a maro hawk on his shoulder.”

    Tajiru tilted his head to the side. “Can’t say I’ve heard of him. But I do know a little about magic weavers. Do you know anything about Rota’s river people?”

    “River people?”

    “They live on the banks of the Maral and Rawal rivers. They tend to be short and slight. People say they can control animals with magic weaving. When people have problems with evil spirits or curses, they go to the river people and pay them to help. Is that girl there possessed by an evil spirit? They say evil spirits and the Tal people are closely related. I’ve heard stories of children with Tal fathers and demon mothers.”

    Asra’s face puckered in distaste. Tajiru was insulting her parents. Her face felt hot.

    “What are you looking at?” he asked Asra. “You’re better at intimidation than you look; I’ll give you that.”

    Balsa was surprised at how much hatred she felt emanating from Asra. Asra was capable of being violent and angry on her own terms, not just when she was possessed by the god. Balsa put her hand on Asra’s shoulder and glared at Tajiru.

    “It’s me you’re talking to, Tajiru, not the girl. She’s been left in my care. If you insult her, you’re insulting me.” Her tone was calm and even, but there was something threatening in her demeanor.

    Tajiru shrugged. “I was just joking. No need to get mad.”

    “Your jokes are always in bad taste,” the hoarse voice of an old woman cut in suddenly. A pale old woman with a round belly lifted one of the red cloth hangings surrounding the area with the benches and the fire. She carried a small butter churn and churning stick. The sound like flowing water that Balsa had been hearing since greeting Tajiru came from that butter churn.

    “Dear mother, how many times have I asked you not to churn butter here?” Tajiru asked. “Why don’t you do it at home?”

    Balsa sighed as she looked at Tajiru’s weary, dejected face. “Here we go again...”

    “I can’t stand it!” Tajiru said. “Every day you’re over there churning. The noise drives me nuts. I’m sure you’re stealing food from the store while I’m not looking, too.”

    Tajiru’s mother snorted. “The butter has ears. It tastes better when it can hear interesting tales while it’s made.”

    “Huh? Well, there are no interesting tales here...no wonder your butter tastes terrible.”

    Balsa noticed that Tajiru and his mother had the same eyebrows. Hers shot up as soon as she saw Asra. She beckoned Asra to come closer with her free hand.

    Asra froze in panic. What was she supposed to do?

    “Come over by me,” Tajiru’s mother said loudly. “I’ll give you some buttermilk. I can’t give it to my son after what he just said.”

    Asra glanced over at Balsa, who nodded. Asra approached the old woman with fearful and hesitant steps. Tajiru’s mother used practiced movements to remove the lid of the small churn she held. She scraped the hardened butter out of the churn and poured the liquid that remained into a wooden cup. She passed the cup to Asra.

    Asra took a small sip of the liquid and looked up at Tajiru’s mother with wide eyes. Her own mother had given her buttermilk a few times, but it had never tasted this good. Even the smell of the buttermilk was rich and sweet.

    Tajiru’s mother smiled at her. She washed the lump of butter in her hands with water and placed it onto a clean dish. She shaped the butter into a large pat and sprinkled it with salt. “It’s delicious, right?” she asked as she worked. “I put secret spices in it,” she said proudly.

    When she was done preparing the butter, she faced Balsa and looked her in the eyes. “We haven’t seen you in ages, Balsa. You look as healthy and strong as ever.”

    “It’s good to see you again, Kaina. You look just the same as when I saw you last.”

    Kaina howled with laughter. “That’s kind of you to say, dear. We can’t expect to go backwards in time, only to slow its progression. You’ve gotten better at compliments, Balsa.” She paused. “I overheard you talking with my son. I don’t think he knows everything that you want to know. He still has a lot to learn.”

    “Huh?” Tajiru asked with a stupefied expression. He glared at his mother.

    “You don’t even know Sufar,” she said with a little shake of her head. “That’s why I said you have a lot to learn.”

    “Does that mean you know Sufar, Kaina?”

    Kaina smiled enigmatically and pushed Tajiru a little to the side on his bench so that she could sit down next to him. “Do you know where I lived and worked in my younger years?” she asked.

    Balsa shook her head and waited for Kaina to continue.

    “I worked as a chef in the kitchens of the castle at Jitan.” Her chest swelled with pride. “Around the time this girl was born, I was the head chef in those kitchens.”

    Tajiru looked tired. “Be careful, Balsa. She’ll talk your ears off if you let her.”

    Kaina glared at him. “At least I’m better than my old man, who told the same long story about himself over and over again. I’ll stick to the basics. I promise.

    “Anyway,” she said, “there were times when Prince Ihan would stay in the castle. Jitan was the second city that King Kiran built up during his rule, so it’s huge. Unlike the castles and fortresses of the other clan lords, Jitan’s castle was built specifically to house the royal family. Discipline was severe and impeccable manners were expected. I worked there for almost fifty years. News and rumors from all over reached the kitchens all the time. Tajiru is only successful now because of my connections and our experiences at Jitan’s castle.”

    Tajiru looked sullenly at her, but he didn’t interrupt.

     Kaina’s tone waxed nostalgic as she said, “After my husband died, I raised Tajiru by myself. I often went to bars after work and listened to the men talking. I met Jiguro right around that time. Do you remember, Balsa?”

    Balsa smiled a little and nodded. Kaina had looked a lot different in those days. Balsa remembered how her laugh had echoed through the whole bar whenever she drank with the men. She could wheedle information out of almost anyone.

    “I don’t think I’ll ever forget drinking with Jiguro.” She paused. “Your eyes were so bright when you looked at him. You were too skinny then, not much more than skin and bones, but you always had a great strength of will. Watching Jiguro raise you to be a bodyguard was one of the most interesting things I’ve ever seen.”

    Kaina slapped her hands against her knees and leaned forward. When she spoke again, her voice was no louder than a whisper. “Tajiru can be stingy with what he knows if he likes, but I’ll tell you everything for the sake of our old friendship. The river people are magic weavers, but there’s another side to them, too. They’re spies for Rota’s royal family. Even powerful clan heads and their families are afraid of them. I met several of them lurking around the castle at one time or another. They told fortunes on auspicious days or worked some magic weaving to protect the people of the castle from curses. They also carried messages--a lot of them.”

    Balsa remembered her encounter with her and Asra’s pursuers and nodded deeply. The river people were like the Mikado’s Hunters in New Yogo. They were excellent trackers, spies and assassins that served the royal family.

    “I see,” Balsa said, “but what does the second son of the Shahal clan have to do with any of this?”

    Kaina’s eyes flashed. “I was getting to that, but there’s something else you should know first. Are you familiar with Rota’s current politics? Do you know much about Prince Ihan?”

    Balsa tilted her head to one side. “I’ve heard rumors. I know the southern lords hate him, but he doesn’t seem to pay much attention to them. I’ve also heard that he’s a great reformer. He wants to change Rota.”

    Kaina nodded at Balsa with a satisfied expression. “I should’ve expected nothing less from you. You know how to keep your ears open. I’ve known Prince Ihan ever since the last Crown Prince of Rota died and he moved into the castle at Jitan. You’ve spent a lot of time in Rota, so I’m sure you know how much the north hates and resents the south. The southerners get rich and fat without working for it and leave us to starve. We’re hard workers in the north. We’re buried in snow and viciously attacked by wolves every winter. And what is our reward for our efforts, aside from poverty? Prince Ihan knows the truth of it. The younger clan lords in the north have thrown their full support behind him,” she said fervently. Her eyes locked on Balsa like she was trying to stare through her. “Why are you opposing Prince Ihan?”

    “Huh?” Balsa hadn’t expected that kind of question at all; the surprise on her face was completely obvious.

    Kaina folded her arms. “Are you saying that you don’t oppose Prince Ihan?”

    “I don’t oppose him, but I don’t support him, either,” Balsa said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This girl and I are being pursued. I can’t let Sufar take her. I’m not sure why, but Sufar wants to kill her. He already tried. I couldn’t just sit by and watch it happen.”

    Kaina looked like she’d just swallowed something that tasted bitter. “That’s hard to believe. I know Sufar. He can be stubborn, but he’s not so cruel or twisted that he’d kill a child. It looks like you’ve stepped into something that you should have avoided, Balsa.”

    Kaina looked at Balsa and sighed. “Of course I understand why you couldn’t simply let this poor child be killed. You’re an orphan, too. Her situation is too similar to yours to ignore. You look intimidating at first glance, Balsa, but you’ve always been softer than you look.”

    Balsa blinked at being called “soft,” but then she smiled. “I guess I am. But anyone who abandons a stranger in trouble should expect the same treatment when they’re the one in trouble, yeah?”

    “A wise saying,” Kaina said with a nod. She smiled a little before lapsing into seriousness again. “Prince Ihan has always done everything in his power to protect the Tal people. I have no formal education, but I worked for him for a very long time. He’d never do something to deliberately harm a Tal person. I don’t think Prince Ihan ordered Sufar to kill this girl.”

    Kaina sank into silence.

    “The northern clans put all their support behind Prince Ihan,” Tajiru said. “You said as much yourself just now. The second son of the Shahal clan is looking for Balsa and the girl. What do you think that means? Maybe Prince Ihan thinks that Balsa’s planning to move against him in some way. I played dumb and tried to find out more from the Shahal clan, but they weren’t forthcoming...I thought this whole situation was strange from the start.”

    Kaina looked Tajiru in the eye. “The second son of the Shahal clan has no interest in Rota’s government. He doesn’t usually concern himself with any kind of important work when it comes to politics or reforms. But he’s greedy and self-important, which means he’s easily bought. He’d probably insist that he supports Prince Ihan if you asked him outright, but he’s had dealings with the bandits that attack the mine for years now. Hm.”

    Kaina pursed her lips. “It’s odd no matter how you look at it. Sufar and the bandits definitely aren’t on the same side. Their motives and ways of solving problems are completely different.”

    Balsa suddenly thought of something. The threatening letter she’d received in Shirogai didn’t seem to fit the picture Kaina was painting of Sufar’s character. Balsa narrowed her eyes as she thought about the letter. The person that had sent it had gone so far as to use Tanda’s name. The tone of the letter was also completely different from Sufar’s usual speech pattern. It must have been written by someone else.

    Balsa listened in silence as Kaina and Tajiru speculated among themselves. They were undoubtedly the most well-informed people in the Trader’s Market, but even they couldn’t put all the pieces together to figure out what was really going on.

    But Balsa had learned at least part of what she wanted to know. She understood more about her enemies: their essential character, their strengths, their alliances and their capabilities were gradually becoming clear to her. Knowing one’s enemy was the first step to defeating them.

    Balsa removed her wallet from her breast pocket, then said, “I’m looking for any good caravan guards that are in town and looking for work. Do either of you know of any?” Balsa and Asra needed to leave Naka’s caravan soon. They’d cause problems for the caravan if they remained with them much longer, but Balsa would be in breach of contract if she didn’t find Naka another guard before they left.

    Tajiru stroked his beard as he considered her question. “Sahal would be your best bet, I think. He’s good with a sword, and amiable enough. He’s only recently out of work.”

    Tajiru told Balsa where to find Sahal. Balsa paid Tajiru and Kaina for their information, thanked them both and stood up. Tajiru waved at her as she turned to leave. “No need to thank us,” he said. “I can sell what you told me for a pretty good price.”

    “Get the highest price you can for it,” Balsa said. “And be nicer to your mother.”

    Kaina laughed, then said goodbye. She didn’t say anything else--no words of encouragement or warnings about what might happen in the future. She was not the kind of woman that sneered at fate.

    Balsa walked quickly away from Tajiru and Kaina, leading Asra by the hand. She stopped by a food stand and bought milk tea and pastries fried in butter for her and Asra’s lunch.

    There were benches near the food stands so that people could sit and eat. Balsa and Asra found an empty bench and sat down. No one else was sitting nearby, but they could still hear the hustle and bustle of the market around them.

    Asra picked up her pastry, then looked at Balsa with a worried frown. “Balsa, did those people tell us the truth?”

    Balsa nodded. “Yes, they did...though we’ve talked the day away, haven’t we? Talk and news is Tajiru’s trade. Kaina’s, too.” Some of the butter from her pastry lingered in her mouth. It tasted slightly sharp. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we should trust them. I wondered the same thing when I was your age.” She smiled a little. “They’re greedy for knowledge and very cunning, but they’re also good people. We wouldn’t know nearly as much as we do now without them.”

    Balsa set her cup of milk tea down on the bench and wrapped her arm around Asra’s shoulders. “When I’ve been in trouble before, Tajiru and Kaina sent messages to warn me.”

    Balsa’s arm resting on Asra’s shoulders was warm and reassuring. “They helped you when you were in trouble?” Asra asked around a mouthful of pastry.

    Asra suddenly tensed and swallowed down the words she wanted to say next. Balsa nodded at her to encourage her to speak.

    “It’s just...you have so much confidence in yourself,” Asra said. “It’s hard to believe you ever needed help. I wish I could be more like that.”

    Balsa’s eyelid twitched. “I think we might have different definitions of confidence,” she said.

    I’m not that great, she wanted to say. Don’t envy me. Jiguro had nurtured her like a sapling in the shadow of a tall tree. Slowly but surely, she’d learned that the most important thing was not to give up. This was true of both her life and of her chosen profession. Being a bodyguard was a dangerous line of work; people died on the job all the time. Balsa would not have been able to keep working alone after Jiguro’s death if she ever so much as considered the possibility of failure.

    When she’d first started working alone, she’d been betrayed by someone she trusted. He’d been a well-respected caravan guard that she’d known for years. When the caravan they’d been guarding was attacked, he’d tricked Balsa by using her as a decoy for the bandits. He’d left her to fend for herself while taking credit for himself for saving the caravan.

    Her wounds had been so grave after that battle that she’d genuinely feared she would die.

    People generally liked the appearance of trust and reliability in a bodyguard. Showing weakness or bitterness in front of people was not a good way to inspire confidence. If Balsa were asked to boil down her work to its simplest possible terms, she would say that all she really did was prevent people from getting severely physically hurt anywhere, especially the head. As long as she prevented life-threatening injuries, the lives of the people she protected could go on.

    It was the same for her. Death and giving up were the same thing. All she ever really did was protect herself. The memory of the people who had died so that she could live only served to strengthen her resolve. She felt like she owed it to them, and to Jiguro, to keep going and live the best life that she possibly could.

    A lot of time had passed since those eight men had died, but watching Jiguro kill them had been foundational to the rest of her life. Their terrible sacrifice was what steadied her before a fight. She didn’t know if she would still be alive without them, even though she’d never known them in life. They reminded her constantly of why she needed to survive.

    But Balsa’s tenacity in clinging to survival wasn’t something Asra should envy or emulate. Kaina had as good as told her that saving Asra’s life would not be enough. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. But Balsa still wasn’t used to valuing life for its own sake; she didn’t know how to instill those feelings in Asra. The happy summer and autumn she’d spent with Tanda as he recovered last year seemed like a dream from someone else’s life. She felt like she’d borrowed that time and would have to give it back someday. She had no hopes or dreams for the future, only the immediate present, which was consumed completely by her desperation for survival.

    Balsa carried all her old scars with her, mental and physical: she’d carried them since her childhood when she’d been forced to flee Kanbal; they’d still been with her when she’d faced Jiguro’s ghost in the Mountain King’s hall. Some part of her still opposed her right to have her own life--a life lived for herself rather than others.

    Balsa felt like she’d died in the darkness under the mountains in Kanbal and been reborn. She was still trying to rebuild her life, but she didn’t know how.

    I know as much about living my life as a newborn baby. I don’t know anything.

    Balsa sat in silence for a long while. She wrapped her arms reflexively around herself as hopelessness and ignorance overwhelmed her. Asra had never seen Balsa uncertain or afraid about anything. She was always as solid as a rock.

    She was so strong, and she could do anything--so why did she look so lost?

    Balsa took a careful sip of her milk tea. It was cold. “Let’s finish eating and find Sahal. We have to get him to take my place in Naka’s caravan. Tajiru would have told me if there were any enemies on the immediate road ahead, so Naka’s caravan will probably be safe until it gets through the mine.”

    “We’re leaving the caravan here?” Asra asked.

    Balsa nodded. “You don’t want them to get mixed up in anything dangerous, right?”

    “Right,” Asra said. It would be just the two of them from this point on. Their enemies were waiting for them in Jitan. Asra imagined Mina’s face, and Naka’s, and Toshi’s. She might never see them again. She felt a profound loneliness that she couldn’t describe in words.

    “We have no choice but to leave them here,” Balsa said. “I’m sorry.”

    Asra didn’t want Mina or the others to be hurt because of her. If she had to be lonely to spare them that, she would.

    The god is with me. She felt power flowing inside her. I don’t need to be scared. The god will be with me no matter what.

    Nothing bad could happen with both Balsa and the god protecting her. Any enemies thinking to target a woman and child traveling alone would be in for a surprise.

    Asra’s lips twitched upward in a smile.

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