Guardian of Heaven and Earth - Rota - Part 1 Chapter 7 - The Mysterious Man

  Guardian of Heaven and Earth

-

Rota

(Book 8 of the Guardian of the Spirit Series)

Author: Uehashi Nahoko

Translator: Ainikki the Archivist

 

 Part 1 - Searching for Chagum

Chapter 7 - The Mysterious Man

 

    Balsa rolled the dice and watched them both land, red-circle up. The men sitting around the table sat back in their seats and frowned at her.

    “Shit. You’re a lucky lady.”

    Balsa’s eyebrows lifted slightly. She smiled. She’d been playing a game called susutto with guards from lord Suan’s castle every night for the past three days. She bought their drinks, played with them and listened to them talk. The guards were bottomless pits when it came to drinking, but they also lost all their filters and inhibitions when they were drunk and would talk about anything as long as she steered the conversation right.

    “It’s your turn. Try to win this time, eh?” she said.

    One of the drunk guards picked up his cup and leaned over the table. He picked up the dice and rolled them with easy, practiced movements.

    Balsa’s spear rested casually beside her; she made no move to pick it up as the man in front of her prayed for a sign of favor to grant him success at gambling.

    Balsa was trying to find out what had happened to Chagum after going toward Suan’s palace. Had he been captured, or treated as a guest? Was he still there, or had he gone elsewhere already? These were the things she was trying to find out from the palace guards. Unfortunately, most of the guards she talked to refused to talk about their lord’s visitors, no matter how drunk they were.

    Balsa needed to gather information without arousing suspicion. Sometimes, she won, but most times she pretended to lose. If her new gambling buddies didn’t see her as a threat, it was possible they’d open up to her. Balsa had never gambled much before, but she picked up the rules quickly enough, including how to cheat.

    There’s nothing wrong with learning how to do something.

    She remembered Jiguro telling her that. She didn’t really intend to become a gambler here; she was just using the game as cover. She smiled.

     Jiguro had worked as a guard for several bars and taverns  throughout her life. She remembered him ordering her to go to bed before his night shift at a Rotan tavern with a severe tone; the bars and gambling dens were usually only open at night. She’d still been very young then.

    But she hadn’t been able to sleep. The inn they’d been staying at was directly above the tavern, so she’d been able to hear the voices of the men talking, drinking and playing below quite clearly. The sounds of people talking, women singing and glasses falling over and shattering had became her usual lullaby.

    When Balsa had gotten a little older, she’d worked with the other women in bars and taverns, making money along with Jiguro. In addition to earning her own wages for the first time, she’d learned a lot about gamblers and gambling simply from observation.

    Jiguro hadn’t scolded her for watching or even for playing occasionally. “There’s nothing wrong with learning how to do something. If the skill can earn you money, so much the better.” She could almost hear him still, as if he were speaking in her ear.

    “I don’t know when or how I’ll die. Learn as many skills as you can so that when I’m gone, you won’t starve,” he’d said gruffly.

    He’d also warned her about getting addicted to the games and losing sight of what was truly important. She’d seen with her own eyes men and women who had lost everything, down to their last coin to feed their children with. She didn’t intend to be a cautionary tale. Consequently, Balsa had determined in advance how much money she was willing to risk and had planned out her strategy accordingly.

    Susutto had always been one of her favorite games. It was very easy to manipulate the dice to her advantage using not much more than a flick of her fingers. It was among the very first games she’d ever played as a young woman; she knew its rules--and ways to exploit them--perfectly.

    Balsa grinned as she remembered the old woman who had taught her how to manipulate the dice without it being noticed. She’d split half her profits with the woman during the time she’d been taught. She wondered, briefly, what had happened to her. Balsa knew that she’d lost both her parents very young and all but made her living as a gambler. Parting with her after Jiguro’s job had filled her with a deep sense of loneliness that she still felt, sometimes.

    The guards she’d chosen tonight were like all the others and refused to let slip any information about their lord’s guests. Most of the guards she talked to fell back on professional decorum, but she did manage to learn a few things over the course of five nights. She became convinced that Chagum had, indeed, gone to lord Suan’s palace--dressed as a Rassharou fisherman, as Red-Eyed Yuzan had said.

    Most of the guards unbent enough when drinking to tell her a little about lord Suan’s strange visitor, but when she pressed for more information, they clammed up immediately. She suspected they’d been given specific orders where Chagum was concerned.

    If Chagum had truly arrived in Rota safely and managed to use his meeting with lord Suan to procure an audience with the King of Rota, then the situation was essentially out of Balsa’s hands. But she had no evidence that Chagum had left lord Suan’s palace. She needed to be sure before she headed to Rota’s capital to look for him.

 

 

    A waitress who smelled of cheap perfume set a huge platter down on the table in front of Balsa. “One large portion of massal,” she said. Massal was pulled pork mixed with eggs; the entire dish was deep-fried before serving. “Thank you for waiting.”

    The guards’ noses twitched at the appetizing aroma of the food. “It’s here! It’s here!”

    Balsa watched the guards dig into the large platter of massal with their fingers and grinned. No wonder they never get any better at susutto. They’re so easily distracted. Not only that, but the oil on their fingers would make it more difficult to grip and manipulate the dice.

    Balsa ate her portion of massal carefully and wiped the dice on her clothes so that she wouldn’t lose her advantage. She ate with an actual kitchen knife, cutting and spearing pieces; she chewed on small pieces of the pork and eggs and swallowed. It tasted a little different from what she was used to.

    This place must use old oil, she thought with a twinge of disappointment. She suddenly felt a lot more like playing rather than eating. The guard sitting across from her was the youngest of the group she was seated with. He picked up the dice and prepared to throw them, then frowned. Sweat made his forehead shine.

    The young guard let the dice fall from his fingers at the same moment that he fell out of his chair. Balsa saw a man standing near the door of the tavern give someone a signal. Balsa’s hackles raised as she stood up.

    Standing made Balsa’s head spin; she staggered. She tried to walk toward the door, but her legs wouldn’t move. She blinked and saw her vision go double; the world around her spun slowly as she tried to ground herself.

    Shit. Poison.

    The massal had tasted strange because something had been put in it. The guards at Balsa’s table had all fallen unconscious to the floor. The other customers in the tavern all shouted to one another in alarm, making Balsa’s headache worse. She heard footsteps behind and around her, their echoes reverberating in the air, and found herself surrounded by four guards with their swords drawn.

    Balsa shoved two fingers into the nearest guard’s eyes and tried to slip past him and the other guards, but she still couldn’t really move her arms and legs. Taking even a single step made her feel so dizzy she nearly fell. She scarcely knew if she was still standing upright at all; the floor under her feet felt like a steep and insurmountable hill.

    Two strong arms seized her from behind.  She shook her head to clear it a little, then brought her skull backwards into her captor’s nose. She heard the man behind her grunt in pain; his arms loosened, but Balsa wasn’t given time to escape. Another guard appeared in front of her and punched her in the gut.

    Balsa took a painful breath. Sparks danced across her vision. She felt her arms being gripped behind her back, hard. The guard restraining her pulled her toward the entrance of the tavern by force, then shoved her outside.

    The entrance of the tavern was strung with two clotheslines from the walls to hang the clothes and coats of travelers. Balsa saw many Rotan-style coats called koro hanging there. The guard kept his grip on her as they started walking through the room.

    A man was standing among the clotheslines; he looked like someone who had just arrived at the tavern. He glanced up at Balsa as she passed.

    Balsa felt that the evening air had gotten colder since she’d first entered the tavern; there was a cold wind blowing in through the tavern’s door. The man standing near the coats on the clotheslines had his head entirely hidden by a shuma face covering, except for his eyes.

    “Oi, you! Get out of the way!” the guard holding Balsa’s arms behind her back called out in an arrogant tone. The man seized a cloak from the clothesline and prepared to settle it over his shoulders. A small pouch emerged from the fluttering cloak, hitting the guard standing in front of Balsa directly in the chest.

    Impact made the pouch burst. White powder and smoke spread out into the air; the guard in front of Balsa covered his face with his hands and cried out. Balsa couldn’t see anything in front of her face at all; neither could the guards behind her. She and the guards coughed violently as the powder and smoke blew over them.

    The man wearing the shuma face covering used the distraction to slip past the guards and free Balsa’s right arm. He elbowed the guard holding Balsa in the back of the neck; the guard cried out and fell to the ground, unconscious, dragging Balsa down with him.

    Another guard clung to Balsa’s left arm, but he was coughing so hard that his entire body shook. Balsa pulled herself free and stood up with great effort. She saw the shadow of a man standing behind the guard she’d just freed herself from. The man used the blade of his hand to strike the nape of the guard’s neck; the man grunted and collapsed to the dirt with the other guard.

    “Can you stand?” the mysterious man asked in a muffled voice.

    Balsa felt the man's presence at her elbow, steadying and supporting her. "The exit's that way! Run!" the man said. He pushed her shoulders a little.

    Balsa groaned and moved as fast as she could toward the exit. She heard the man fighting off the guards in hand-to-hand combat behind her. She coughed as she ran and couldn't stop. She was so dizzy and her head hurt so badly that she started crying; running only made her dizziness worse. Her vision spun and wavered like she was stuck in the middle of a bad dream.

    She had no idea what was happening, or why, but she did know one thing for certain: there were no allies for her here. She was on her own. The fact that the man wearing the shuma had stepped in for her was irrelevant; she wasn't out of danger yet. She suspected that the mysterious man was dangerous as well. She was running from him as well as the guards.

    Balsa felt the man grab her arm from behind and pull her up to help her steady herself. "We're almost out," he said. "Look there!" He pointed to the exit, which was only a few feet away.

    Balsa tried to shake the man's hand off of her, but her entire body felt numb. Her head felt like a swarm of cicadas was buzzing around inside it; the ringing in her ears was unbearable. Cold sweat leaked from her pores; she was shivering. Darkness dominated the edges of her vision. She passed out at the same moment she felt the man pick her up and start carrying her.

 

 

    Even when she was lost in the darkness, Balsa's unease didn't leave her alone. She felt consciousness returning slowly and saw the light before her eyes, but coming back to her senses provided no relief. There was an irritating sound in her ears; it took her a while to realize that what she was hearing was voices, and even longer to understand what those voices were saying. Balsa kept her eyes closed and listened to the voices she heard.

    "I don't know what they used. Chuyal, it looks like--some sort of numbing agent. She's sweating and shivering, so she's cold, but she's also sweating it out. I'd expect her to regain consciousness by morning."

    Balsa couldn't quite identify where the voice was coming from. She thought she'd heard the voice before, but she couldn't remember where. The speaker, though, was obviously Yogoese. The only Yogoese man Balsa had seen in Tsuram had put her on edge; she remembered her nervousness now.

    The Yogoese man was still speaking. "If it's chuyal, then she'll be weak for a day even after she wakes up. The first day's effects are always the worst. She'll probably be able to speak, but I doubt she'll be able to move much. Chuyal is good to use for interrogations."

    Balsa knew immediately that the man was right. She could listen and open her eyes, and she felt like she could probably speak, but getting up and moving around was out of the question. She almost wished she were unconscious again; the inability to move while she was awake was absolutely terrifying. But because she was conscious, she decided to take in as much of her surroundings as possible.

    She was stretched out flat on her back on something hard: maybe the floor, maybe a table for treating patients. When the man stopped speaking, she heard a sort of glug-glug sound like water flowing in from somewhere. Am I on a ship? she thought. She couldn't feel waves moving against the floor or walls, though. She was probably at an inn or building very close to the harbor, directly on the ocean. She felt the presence of the Yogoese man standing over her and kept her eyes shut.

    After a long, silent moment, she heard the man sit down beside her in a chair; its legs scraped over a wooden floor.

    The man addressed someone--maybe her, maybe someone else inside the room--in a disparaging tone. "You're hopeless. What on earth did you even hope to gain?" His voice was quiet, but Balsa heard laughter in it. There was a reply from somewhere farther away; Balsa couldn't quite make it out. When the man next to her replied, he sounded irritated. "What did you say?! Say it again. You're too supportive and sentimental about that damned prince; don't try to deny it again. It's not like I don't watch you every day."

    The man stood up from his chair; Balsa heard his footsteps as he crossed the room and left it. Balsa kept her eyes closed and tried to steady her rapidly increasing heartbeat. That damned prince...Chagum?

    What did "too supportive and sentimental about Chagum" mean? Were these Chagum's allies, or his enemies? As she thought these words over in her mind, she caught the scent of cholu, a burning herb that was often used recreationally by sailors. She realized that the man who had picked her up before had also smelled like cholu. The realization helped her focus; she still had a horrible headache, but her thoughts were getting clearer.

    She suddenly identified the voice she hadn't recognized earlier: the mysterious man was the same magic weaver she'd encountered on Red-Eyed Yuzan's ship. He was also the one who had managed to get Yuzan's brother Rago to talk about the Talfa necklace. Balsa had tied him up and left him in the shipwright's hut near the harbor, but she hadn't killed him. Apparently his friends had found him.

    It was possible that the magic weaver was the same man she'd seen when she'd infiltrated Tsuram's black market--the one who was also looking for Chagum.

 

 

    Balsa still didn't have a full grasp of what was going on. The four guards who had attacked her at the tavern had worn lord Suan's family crest. Maybe lord Suan had ordered them to bring in or eliminate anyone who was asking questions about Chagum, but she had a feeling this situation wasn't quite that simple. Why would a lord bother to poison her food? Would he really involve himself in this situation that far? Balsa doubted he'd been trying to kill her; all the poison had done was make her lose consciousness. And he'd poisoned his own guards, too--at least, guards who worked in his palace.

    It seemed logical to assume that the other guards' collapse was the signal for lord Suan's personal guards to attack her. The poison seemed to affect the drunkest men first, starting with the youngest man present. Balsa had an uneasy feeling about all of this, and not just because the Yogoese man whose footsteps she'd been dogging was also after Chagum. There were pieces to this puzzle that she understood, but when she tried to make all the pieces fit, the picture was hopelessly jumbled and complicated.

    There were two possibilities: either lord Suan had taken Chagum captive after learning that he was the crown prince of a foreign nation, or he'd sped Chagum on his way to speak to the King of Rota. Of the two options, the first seemed likeliest, but she also didn't know what lord Suan stood to gain by holding Chagum captive. Red-Eyed Yuzan and the mysterious magic weaver were also mixed up in this situation somehow, but she didn't know enough to hazard a guess. She knew that they'd taken her away from lord Suan's men before she could be captured and questioned.

    A chill went up Balsa's spine. An alarming number of people seemed to know that Chagum was alive.

 

 

    Balsa heard the sound of someone's footsteps approaching the room where she lay, still pretending to be asleep. She heard the man sit down again, but he wasn't near her. She heard a sound like the scratching of a pen moving across paper. A shadow fell across her face.

    "You're awake, aren't you?" the man asked. "The rhythm of your breathing changed." His voice was low and deep.

     Balsa opened her eyes. Just as she'd thought, the man was the same one she'd seen while investigating the whereabouts of the Talfa necklace. He looked to be in his late twenties, but he might also be older; it was difficult to tell. He was definitely younger than she'd expected. His features were sharp like a blade and his expression was wary, but she thought she saw the beginnings of a smile around his mouth. Like his youth, there was a softness to him that she hadn't expected. She wondered if he used that quality to draw people in.

    When Balsa saw that he was holding her spear out to her, she breathed an entirely audible sigh of relief. He smiled and brought her spear closer.

    "I sneaked into the inn you were staying at originally and grabbed this. I've been wondering what you've been looking for ever since I passed you by in that underground jeweler's hideout. I happen to know who you are. I travel a lot and love hearing songs and stories from other nations. 'The Song of the Water Spirit and the Crown Prince' is one I've heard many, many times."

    The man thunked the butt of her spear onto the floor and performed a mock salute. "You've been indiscreet, Balsa the spear wielder. Even a child would be able to figure out who you are."

 

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