Guardian of Heaven and Earth - Rota - Part 2 Chapter 7 - Balsa's Decision

 Guardian of Heaven and Earth

-

Rota

(Book 8 of the Guardian of the Spirit Series)

Author: Uehashi Nahoko

Translator: Ainikki the Archivist

 

 Part 2 - Enemies Among Friends

Chapter 7 - Balsa's Decision

 

    By the time Balsa departed from the Kashal village following the line of the Sal highway, the sun was going down. The golden light of sunset shone on the yellow grass around her, making it difficult to distinguish between the earth and the sky.

    Balsa parted with her guide at the edge of the village and ran toward Tsuram harbor at a sprint. She ran as the stars came out and the wind at her back turned cold and bracing. Her breath steamed in front of her face in a white cloud as she pushed her pace faster. She thought about Chagum as she ran, remembering all the things he’d said to her at their last meeting.

    He’d still been a boy then, though he’d grown up a lot with her. It was only after receiving Jin’s short letter that she realized that Chagum had become an adult without her noticing how much time had passed. She could only think of him as the eleven-year-old boy that she’d carried on her back away from New Yogo’s imperial palace so that she could save his life.

    She knew that Chagum was sixteen now. He’d gotten himself embroiled in complex schemes and political maneuvering between nations. But to her, he was still the same boy she’d reluctantly left behind all those years ago.

    I hope you know what you’re doing, Chagum. I don’t know what kind of road you’re on, but I certainly hope you don’t get lost.

    He could no longer shirk his responsibilities as a politician and diplomat; he’d been born into that life. He hated being a prince and living in a palace...that was how she remembered him, but he wasn’t the same little boy anymore.

    She suddenly remembered what Hugo had said: You definitely won’t believe me, but...I want Crown Prince Chagum to be happy, too. I’m not sure it’s possible for him to ever live the kind of life he wants, but I still hope he achieves that for himself some day.

    She understood exactly how Hugo felt. A long time ago, she’d believed that if he could only live as an ordinary person, without the burdens of his station and his birth on him, then that would be enough. She wasn’t quite sure that was the case anymore. He had put his heart and soul into protecting New Yogo from being invaded by the Talsh empire.

    Wind blew in Balsa’s face. She narrowed her eyes, smiled, and thought, Well, I guess it’s not my place to choose his life for him. What he chooses to do is entirely up to him.

 

 

    It was past midnight when Balsa reached Tsuram harbor. There were still many people milling about the Taku Hol inn, renting or returning horses. Some had clearly just come from taverns or gambling dens; they called out to friends and companions in light voices as they conducted their business.

    The inn’s entrance opened out into a wide room for receiving guests. There was a fire set in the room’s hearth. Two men sat in chairs next to the fire. One of the men was the owner of the inn; the other appeared to be his friend. They were drinking together and talking when Balsa entered.

    The owner of the inn regarded her with a displeased frown. “So you’re finally back. You’ve been gone for six days. I had half a mind to sell your horse and your luggage to recoup my losses.”

    Balsa approached the hearth and rubbed her chilled hands together. “I’m sorry I was gone so long. I was...unavoidably detained. But didn’t I pay you ten days ahead to start with?”

    “Hm.” He snorted. “If you hadn’t, your horse would already be gone.” He put his hands on his knees and stood up. He crossed the room and retrieved a mass of keys from a hidden place in the wall. He fiddled around with the keys for a moment, then gave one to Balsa.

    “Here. The kitchen is closed and the fires have been banked, so I can’t feed you tonight. But the baths are still open if you need one.”

    Balsa nodded as she accepted the key. She’d eaten tea sweets with Ahal, but otherwise she hadn’t eaten anything all day. Strangely, she wasn’t hungry.

    The innkeeper glanced at Balsa’s face and said, “Your face looks pale. Are you feeling well?”

    Balsa looked at him in surprise. “Really? I feel fine.”

    The innkeeper snorted through his nose. “Stay here for the night. You’ll probably have a cold in the morning; mark my words.” He turned away from her and left the room. Balsa noticed that he was heading for the kitchen.

    Balsa stood by the fire across from the innkeeper’s friend. He reached up and extended his full glass to her. “Would you like some, miss?”

    “Thank you, but I’ll decline. I don’t like to drink on an empty stomach.”

    The innkeeper returned to the room, carrying a pot and a wooden plate. “It’s not good for your health to go to bed hungry,” he said gruffly. “Maybe the young can get away with skipping a meal or two, but these old bones won’t have it.” He set the pot over the fire to warm its contents.

    “I know you’re a fairly young woman. You have to keep yourself healthy so you can bear children.”

    Balsa burst out laughing. “I’m already in my mid-thirties.”

    The innkeeper glanced over at Balsa. “So? My mother had me when she was forty-five.”

    Balsa hadn’t gotten a lecture (even a gentle and well-meaning one) about settling down and having children for a long time, so she wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

    The innkeeper lifted the lid off the pot, revealing a stew called raru. There must have been some left over in the kitchen. There was a slight film of oil over the top, but that vanished when the innkeeper stirred it. Steam rose from the pot, spreading a pleasant aroma through the room.

    “My mother bore twenty children between the ages of sixteen to sixty. Eighteen of them lived to adulthood. My wife had had ten children, and seven lived to grow up.”

    Balsa frowned a little at him.

    “I was a complete bachelor until I was thirty years old, and I loved my wild, free single life. Even after I settled down, I lived the way I always had for a while. It was only after my son turned five that I started feeling the urge to settle down somewhere. That’s when my friend over there told me that it was time I accepted my settled-down life as it was.

    “You don’t think, when you’re young, that you’ll ever want a quiet life for yourself. But I can say for certain that it’s a pleasant sort of life.”

    “I told you no such thing,” the old man sitting near the fire said. “I said that if you didn’t accept your life and settle down soon, you’d wind up like a sakawa or wild salmon, always swimming upstream.”

    The innkeeper faced his friend and nodded. “You yourself were once an itinerant gambler, flitting from face to place like a songbird. And look at you now! So stern and serious. You make sure the people who come in are fed and watered. It’s hard to remember you as you were then...”

    The innkeeper paused in his lecture to Balsa and became engrossed in conversation with his friend. After the stew was fully heated and bubbling, the innkeeper’s friend ladled some into a wooden bowl and passed it to Balsa.

    Balsa sat down with her stew in front of the fire and listened to the two men talk as she ate. When she finished her bowl, she rose and thanked the innkeeper and his friend, then returned to her room.

    This inn was quite large, so there were many rooms lined up along a long hallway. Everything was still and silent; most of the guests must already be asleep. The hallway was silent and cold.

    Balsa entered her room and sat down on her bed. She looked into the darkness for a little while, then faced her window, where she could see the lights of a gambling den across the street. She heard men’s shouts and women’s high-pitched laughter, carried on the wind, sometimes loud and sometimes soft like the rising and swelling of a tide.

    Balsa removed her coat and top layer and stretched out on the bed. The twine she kept at her waist brushed against her stomach. She removed her leather boots, got herself settled and fell asleep.

    She awoke at dawn to early morning light streaming in through her window. She heard people stirring and beginning their work for the day. The appetizing smell of frying unleavened bread reached her nose; she recognized it as bam. Fried bam was a common breakfast for people in Rota. The smell of it cooking wafted through the entire inn.

    Although Balsa was awake, she found it hard to shake the feeling of her dream. She’d dreamed that Tanda had been asleep in her arms; she still felt over-warm with the idea of it.

    Balsa opened her eyes and surveyed her dim room with a slightly disappointed air.

    Time to settle down, huh?

    Of course Balsa wasn’t really ready for that, but she felt like she was; she was still immersed in the warmth and memory of her dream. The dream was something that she wanted, but she still felt like it was something she couldn’t do.

    Balsa’s life and livelihood were, by nature, violent. She’d spent her entire life making her living in the same way and didn’t know how to do anything else. If she gave up and settled down now, all she would have were bloody, bitter memories of who she used to be.

    Because her work was violent, she could easily die at any time. She had to be prepared for that. Every town, every back alley, every side-street she traveled down felt somehow temporary and unreal; just because she entered them didn’t mean she would come back out alive.

    If she died on a job, Tanda wouldn’t know--possibly for a long time. In her mind, he was always in Torogai’s hut, waiting for her. She did sometimes think that her way of life was cruel and unfair to Tanda, but she honestly and seriously knew of no other way to live. She was still looking for a better answer to the end of her life.

    Balsa sighed and shifted on her bed so that she was staring at the ceiling. She slapped herself lightly on both cheeks to help snap herself out of her dream.

    War in New Yogo would likely begin at the start of the new year. That was what Hugo had told her. Chagum’s letter had begged her to flee to the mountains with Tanda before the war broke out.

    The armies of opposing countries usually bore the brunt of the war in terms of loss of life, but Balsa knew that the Talsh invaders likely wouldn’t stop at killing New Yogo’s soldiers. Innocent lives would be lost. People would be displaced from their homes and lose everything they’d built up and worked for.

    Balsa had spoken to many merchants from southern Rota during her investigation of Chagum’s whereabouts. Most of them weren’t worried too much about the war, as they could easily see how they could profit from it. One man she’d talked to had experienced war and violence before: he’d seen young children cut down before his very eyes, yet still espoused much the same view as his fellow merchants in southern Rota. Thinking about that man made Balsa’s blood run cold.

    Soldiers would attack, burn, steal and kill--that was what war meant. Tanda and Torogai were somewhat removed from towns and the capital and would probably be safe for a while, but Asra and Chikisa were right in the main invasion path. Martha’s store in Shirogai was under immediate threat. Balsa should probably warn her to evacuate before the war started. She should take Martha, Asra and Chikisa back to Tanda and Torogai and hide in the mountains, like Chagum had said. Hunters’ Hole was a nice, secluded place to hide.

    I have to go back to New Yogo.

    Balsa was only one person. She wasn’t strong enough or influential enough to stop a war between nations--but she was strong enough to protect the people who were most important to her.

    Balsa heard doors opening into the hallway near her room. People who were planning to leave early lined up in the hallway to take their morning meal.

    Balsa pushed back her blankets and placed her feet upon the cold ground. She shook herself a little and started packing. When she opened her pack to pull out fresh clothes, something fell out of it.

    It was a length of twine--the same kind of twine she wore at her waist. It was soaked with blood. She realized that this was the same twine she’d given Hugo to stop the bleeding when he’d taken the arrow out of his leg. She bent to retrieve the twine and saw that it was wrapped around a length of red cloth. When she unfolded the cloth, there were letters written in precise Yogoese.

 

    Thank you for this twine. I wanted to tell you something in exchange for giving it to me.

    The Nanyoku spies have sent assassins after Crown Prince Chagum. It seems that he saw the face of the Talsh’s Kanbalese accomplice on accident. I don’t expect them to let him live. According to the reports I’ve received, the Kanbalese spy is the linchpin of the entire invasion strategy.

    They know that Crown Prince Chagum is headed to see Prince Ihan. They won’t have any trouble tracking him. You’ve likely dealt with assassins before, but these men aren’t to be taken lightly.

    I am working, in my own way, to secure a different outcome for the future. When you read this, I pray that you will protect Crown Prince Chagum.

 

    Balsa stared at Hugo’s letter in shock. A chil went up her spine and spread through her entire body.

    A Kanbalese spy...so Kanbal has already fallen to the Talsh, then?

    And Chagum had seen him. If he was really as important as Hugo’s letter seemed to suggest, then Balsa was certain that the Nanyoku spies were motivated to kill him at any cost.

    But Chagum’s being protected by the Kashal. I’m sure they know how not to be tracked, at least.

    Balsa tried to reassure herself with that thought, but she felt nothing but unease. She had expected that the southern clan lords would chase after Chagum, but she hadn’t expected Talsh assassins as pursuers. Would the Kashal be a match for them? Would they really be able to protect Chagum?

    She might be able to warn the Kashal, but they would have no reason to believe information offered by a Talsh spy. It would also take time to warn them.

    How long ago did he slip this letter into my pack?

    She’d been confined in the Kashal village for three days. Unless Hugo had found her and slipped it into her pack without knowing while she’d been confined, she had to assume that at least three days had passed since he’d written this letter. Talsh assassins were moving north quickly. Maybe she could catch up to Chagum on horseback.

    Balsa clenched the red cloth in both fists and stood up. The choice before her was simple, but not easy. She could flee to the mountains with Asra, Chikisa and Tanda--or chase after Chagum and hope that she arrived before the Talsh assassins did.

    Even if she rushed after Chagum now, she might not make it. The Kashal were with him and should, reasonably, be expected to protect him. But she still wanted to confirm that he was safe with her own eyes.

    If she traveled at all speed toward Jitan from here, it would take a minimum of ten days. Could she really reach Jitan, make sure Chagum was safe, then backtrack to Shirogai and Tanda’s hut in the mountains before the war started?

    Balsa kept the red cloth clenched in her fists and stared at the wall. Shirogai was about five days’ ride from the border of Sangal by horse. She didn’t know exactly where the war’s first battles would be fought, but the Sangal border seemed likely to be a war zone. It wouldn’t be easy to travel through there once battles started being fought.

    She had more reasons not to go to Shirogai than to go. She was worried for Asra and Chikisa, but Martha was far from helpless. Balsa knew that Martha would protect the children. Chagum felt far more alone and vulnerable to her. The Kashal would defend him from danger, but they had no love for or friendship with Chagum himself. They operated on the orders of a distant prince who might change his mind at any time. The more she examined the situation, the more Balsa realized that Chagum was at the center of a whirlpool, in constant danger of being pulled under--along with everyone close to him.

    Balsa took a deep breath, then made her decision. White light shone through her window and touched her face. She heard people lining up with their luggage and belongings on the street outside. The misty figures of boats appeared on the river: the morning’s first fishermen, back with their catch.

    Balsa took up her pack and settled it over her shoulders. Then she gripped her spear and left her room at a pace not much slower than a sprint.

 

Previous Chapter

Master Post

Next Chapter