Guardian of Heaven and Earth
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Kanbal
Part 1 - To Kanbal
Chapter 5 - Coming Home
The next morning, Balsa and Chagum stood outside the Kashal’s underground cave, alone. The Kashal had broken camp and departed sometime before dawn--including Shihana. Only the woman who served as Balsa’s doctor remained behind. She prepared them a breakfast of honey, bam, and rakal, a traditional Rotan alcoholic beverage made with mare’s milk.
When Chagum asked the doctor where the other Kashal had gone, she said, “The southern clan lords are in open revolt, so they’ve returned to Rota. I was asked to stay behind and tell you. You shouldn’t have any more trouble until after you cross the border.” She took a sip of warmed-up rakal and smiled.
“The road is safe,” she said, “but I’ll be remaining nearby, watching, for a little while--just to be sure. You should be on your way after you’ve eaten and rested. I can’t travel with you--imagine how strange it would look for a Kanbalese, Yogoese and Rotan person to be traveling on the road together.”
Balsa smiled a little. Kanbal was an insular sort of country ruled by impoverished clan lords that supported an equally impoverished king. It was not a populous or prosperous nation and received few visitors apart from trade. The capital contained the royal palace and was the largest city, but by the standards of the continent, even that city was small--and there were no larger ones. There were trade markets called lassal, but these were rare and never stuck around for very long.
Kanbalese people lived in clans, so all outsiders were distrusted on principle. Those who showed up to trade at the lassal markets and traveling merchants tended to be more tolerant. It was said that rumors traveled faster than horses in Kanbal.
"How far is it to the capital city from here?” Chagum asked.
“We’re in the Muga clan’s territory now,” Balsa said. “The King’s province is directly to the west. So it’s not far, but the road is difficult--it cuts through more mountains. I think we can probably make it in about a week. It’s almost the new year; I hope we can make it before then.”
The doctor glanced over at them. “You can’t possibly think of leaving today? Your wounds aren’t healed yet!”
Balsa smiled. “They’re just flesh wounds. They hurt a little, but they’ve stopped bleeding. I’ll be fine.”
The woman shook her head and muttered to herself in Rotan. She changed Balsa’s bandages, then gave her medicines to use to help her heal faster. She also helped Chagum pack for the journey; she insisted that Balsa should rest for as long as possible. The Kashal had prepared their horses for departure before they’d left camp as well.
Balsa and Chagum mounted up and got back to the road. There was no sign of the Kashal woman doctor anywhere, though they assumed she was nearby. Smoke from the Kashal’s camp rose faintly into the sky, then disappeared.
They were traveling in Muga clan territory. They decided to stop at a lassal, one of Kanbal’s large markets, before nightfall. While climbing up a steep mountain path, Tanda’s footing failed; he slipped, causing Chagum to cry out.
The horse regained his balance. Balsa extended her hand to help Chagum right himself in the saddle. Early evening light bathed the mountains in a soft red glow. Chagum took deep breaths and took in the view to help calm himself.
“Alam lai la,” Balsa said.
“Huh?” Chagum asked.
“It’s Yonsa dialect,” Balsa said. “We call beautiful mountain sunsets like this ‘alam lai la.’ The sun loves the mountains, who are the mother of the Kanbalese people. The sun shows its affection to our mother before going to sleep for the night, as it has for a thousand years.”
Chagum smiled at her. “If Tanda, uh, ‘showed his affection,’ would you blush red like this?” He was teasing. Balsa let him go and put some separation between their horses.
The lassal came into view some time later. Chagum squinted down at it and said, “Huh. That’s it?”
“Yes,” Balsa said, “and don’t make that face while you’re there. Nothing in Kanbal is all that big. This is one of the larger markets in the area, believe it or not.”
The lassal was cradled by the foot of the mountain; it seemed almost to be carved from it. Chagum saw a dozen or so squat stone buildings with ten hide tents erected among them. It didn’t look like a large market at all by New Yogo’s standards.
“Look there,” Balsa said. She pointed.
There were more stone buildings clustered above the initial set of the dozen he’d seen; they were built on higher ground. Both sets of buildings were surrounded by walls on every side. Chagum saw smaller buildings that looked like they were for animals or livestock on the higher level.
“That’s a village,” Balsa said. “The people graze their goats outside the walls. The smaller buildings are for livestock and herders.”
Chagum stared at the huts. Everything seemed so small and crudely constructed; the village seemed to be very poor. “What are herders?” Chagum asked.
“They’re not part of Kanbal’s clans,” Balsa said. “They’re much shorter than Kanbalese people. Most adult herders don’t get taller than waist level on me. They may look small, but they know more about the mountains than anyone. They pass messages to one another over long distances by singing and whistling.”
Balsa knew about the herders and their special connection to the Mountain King, but that wasn’t something to be discussed lightly, even with Chagum. There was a dark world under the Yusa mountains, as dense and complex as a spider web in the darkness; few people had ever been there to tell people of what they’d seen.
Balsa and Chagum struggled down the mountain path into the village. The stores and food stalls were open when they arrived; men and women stood outside their tents or the stone buildings, offering goods for sale. The market wasn’t crowded. It was obvious that some of the stores doubled as houses. The people manning stores and stalls fixed their gazes on Chagum and Balsa with hungry eyes.
In Rota and Kanbal, the size of this village wouldn’t be enough to warrant calling it a market, but Balsa knew that there were no other places to shop and resupply for a far distance in any direction. She and Chagum dismounted and walked through the village until they reached a building that had a lamp lit inside.
“This is an inn,” Balsa whispered to Chagum. “We can rest here tonight.”
The inn had a small stable attached to it, so they brought their horses there. A sullen man standing near the fire accepted the reins of their horses without saying a word.
Balsa and Chagum approached the inn’s large doorway. There was a whistling sound coming from somewhere inside. Chagum stopped dead in his tracks. That whistle was the same kind he’d heard upon arriving home at the palace from the mountain villa, or from his travels. He was absolutely certain that it was the same sound.
Chagum stood in the doorway as if he’d frozen to the spot. Balsa shrugged and pushed the door open. She smelled smoke from cooking fires; the inn must be preparing to serve dinner. The whistling sound became louder and carried a clear tune like music.
The small entrance hall was directly attached to the dining area, without as much as a wall separating them. A large fire crackled in a hearth set into a stone wall. There was a large pot of stew bubbling over it that smelled wonderful. Three people who appeared to be guests sat in chairs near the fire.
The whistle that Chagum had thought he’d heard was a high-pitched flute. A woman of around forty was playing it in the dining area. When he looked more closely at the woman and the guests, he was shocked: all of them were Yogoese.
One of the women got up from her chair and called out in greeting. “Hi! You’re Yogoese like us--whereabouts are you from?”
A Kanbalese man with a shaggy beard waved Balsa and Chagum further inside. “Now, then, come in. It’s freezing out there. Come by the fire and sit down.”
Two tall women entered the dining area from an interior room that was probably the kitchen; they carried trays and chairs. The women looked at Chagum and smiled.
“Well, more Yogoese guests,” one of the women said. “We’ve seen a lot of them since the rumors started spreading around. Where did you hear about us? Oram’s store?” she asked.
Chagum blinked and shrank back in confusion. Balsa put her hand on his shoulder.
“We’re not here because of rumors,” Balsa said. “We stopped in the lassal to get supplies and realized the sun was going down, so we decided to stay at the closest inn."
The women and the other Yogoese guests all gave Balsa disbelieving looks. The bearded man’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Well, I suppose this is all just a fortunate coincidence. We’ve got good food and entertainment here, as you see.”
Balsa nodded. Chagum removed his boots and approached the fire. The bearded man lifted the lid from the pot of stew and inhaled.
“Mmm...it’s suchal!” Chagum said. Suchal was a stew made from bird meat and vegetables.
The other Yogoese guests smiled at him. “You must be starving for Yogoese food,” the bearded man said. “I’m still not used to the yak milk smell.” He crinkled his nose.
A Kanbalese woman with an air of authority snorted through her nose. “You shouldn’t badmouth Kanbalese food,” she said. “Especially when you’re in Kanbal.” She glanced at Balsa. “Well, these poor fools went out and made their own food to share, which suits us fine. They bought all the ingredients and did the word, so we can’t complain.”
The guests and inn workers all introduced themselves, one after another. The Yogoese travelers were all from Kosenkyo. The bearded man was a merchant at a dry goods store; the flute player was a traveling performer and the slight man with her was her husband.
"We got stuck here after the Mikado closed the borders," the bearded man said with a bitter smile. "She came here to play in the Kanbalese capital for a festival with her husband. I came to meet my first grandchild."
"Your first grandchild?" Chagum asked.
The bearded man shrugged. "My daughter married a laborer from Kanbal who works in New Yogo during most of the year and comes back home in the winter. I tried to talk her out of it, but she's married into the Muga clan now, so there's no help for it. I got the news that my grandson had been born and decided to visit. I thought I'd be able to go home, but..."
He folded his arms over his chest. "I didn't care for living here at first, but my son-in-law's family are friendly and welcoming people. But they're poor, and I don't expect them to put me up forever. I work at this inn and help with the cooking so that I can bring extra food home to make ends meet."
The flautist and her husband nodded. "We don't expect to get by on charity, either," the flautist said in fluent Kanbalese. "We do the cleaning and the washing at this inn in exchange for lodging. I could probably get work as an entertainer in the capital, but it's far from the border, which would make it harder to go home when the borders reopen. Besides, there are a lot of Yogoese people around here who got stranded, so we're in good company." She smiled. "Everyone at the lassal is so nice. I think this is a good place to spend the winter."
The two tall Kanbalese women that helped run the inn exchanged little smiles. Their guests disparaged Kanbal's food and cut into the work that they could be paid to do, but they also thought that their guests were kind enough. One of the women sighed.
"We can't really afford to take in more people over winter, but we can't let all the stranded people freeze and starve, either. It's a terrible and cruel thing, being thrown out of your own country by the king."
Chagum ducked his head.
The bearded man frowned, then said in halting Kanbalese, "New Yogo doesn't have a king, but a Mikado. He's descended from a god, Ten no Kami, the God of the Heavens." The man's expression became grave. "I think it's true. I'm just a merchant and can't possibly fathom the Mikado's plans and intentions, but I suspect that the borders were closed to protect the country from Talsh spies and invasion. If that's the case, then those of us who are outside the country for the war will be spared its violence and bloodshed. That's not a bad thing at all. Maybe the Mikado was thinking of that when he imposed such harsh restrictions for crossing the border."
Chagum's lips trembled. Balsa gripped his shoulder and squeezed. Chagum faced the bearded man and said calmly, "I think so, too. I think the stew's done--is it really all right to let it boil for so long?"
The bearded man immediately flew into a panic. "Ah! Oh no!" He hastily removed the pot from the fire.
The flautist addressed Balsa. "Excuse me, but who are you? Where did you come from?"
"We just arrived from Rota," Balsa said. "I'm a bodyguard and caravan escort. This young man's father is merchant that deals in furs and leather. He wanted to follow me and learn to become a bodyguard after I finished up a job for his father, but I refused. By bad luck, he was traveling with his father and another guard in a caravan. The caravan was attacked by bandits and almost everyone was killed, including his father. So he's with me now."
Everyone looked at Chagum with saddened and sympathetic eyes.
"So, that cut on your face..." the bearded man said.
Balsa nodded. "The bandits wounded him. Fortunately, the wound isn't deep. I found him and managed to treat it quickly. Anyway, we travel together now. He has a strong will to learn, which is good--you've got to know a lot, and work a lot, to be a good guard."
The two Kanbalese women seemed very interested in Balsa and Chagum. "Why are you in Kanbal?" one of them asked.
"I'm from the Yonsa clan. I received a letter that my aunt was unwell. She lives alone, so I didn't want her to pass the winter by herself when she's sick."
"She lives alone?" the other woman said. "She must have other family--doesn't she?"
Balsa grinned. "My aunt is...a bit of a strange one. She likes her independence."
The two women exchanged nods, then caught sight of Balsa's spear. "Forgive me for saying so," one of the women said, "but you're a bit strange yourself, miss. You carry a short spear and are dressed like a warrior. Most of the spear wielders we tend to see are men."
Balsa kept smiling. "Sorry to seem strange, I guess. We'll only be staying for the night."
"Understood." The woman bowed a little. "It's best to keep traveling while the weather holds."
The bearded man portioned out the suchal stew into bowls for everyone. Then he gave everyone a slice of unleavened bread similar to Rotan bam. "The stew would go better with rice, but there's none to be had here. I sure hope it's not overdone..."
"Hush," the flautist said. "I'm sure it's absolutely fine."
The Yogoese guests laughed and joked with one another like old friends, but Chagum saw a hint of loneliness in their eyes. They were strangers in a land far from home--and they might never be able to go home again. When he and Balsa finally retired to their own room, he said, "I'll bet there are a lot of displaced people like that in Rota and Kanbal."
Balsa crouched down and started making a fire in the hearth. "Yeah. But what that man said isn't all wrong. They'll be safer from the war in New Yogo here--and people can live anywhere, not just their homeland."
"But everyone wants to go home," Chagum snapped, "if they can. Don't they? How would it feel to never see their families again, or eat rice again, or..." he trailed off.
Balsa sat on one of the room's beds. "It's not your fault, Chagum," she said. "Any of it. I understand why you feel responsible, since you're New Yogo's Crown Prince. But you didn't cause this situation, and you're already doing everything you can. The borders were caused on the Mikado's orders, to prevent people from Sangal and the countries to the south from coming in and spying for the Talsh empire."
Chagum looked down at his feet in the half-darkness.
"You blame yourself too much," Balsa said. "You see your dream, but that's high-level--it doesn't really affect us here, on the ground. You haven't hurt anyone. You're trying to save everyone. That burden is too much for any one person to bear. You don't get to decide the outcome of this situation."
Chagum looked up. He was crying. "But I want to decide it. I want to make sure everyone's all right." He sat on his bed, then stretched out on it and pulled his bedding over his head.
Balsa stayed awake for a long while, watching the fire make dancing shadows on the wall.
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