The Wanderer
Balsa and Tanda returned to Torogai’s hut around sunset. They were almost back when Balsa stopped dead in her tracks. Tanda stopped, too. There was something commanding and forbidding in her posture. She didn’t have to tell him to stop moving in words.
Tanda heard voices. He squinted at Torogai’s hut in the distance and made out the shadows of people gathered outside, talking to one another while standing in a patch of tall grass.
Tanda gasped when he recognized the voices of his father and his uncle. There were several other men standing outside the hut, all men who worked the fields in Tanda’s village.
“We can’t stay here,” Balsa whispered in Tanda’s ear.
He nodded.
Balsa gripped her fishing spear in her right hand their net full of caught fish in her left, then slipped into the trees like a wraith. Tanda could barely tell she was there, and he’d watched her do it. He crouched down along the side of the road and waited.
Balsa was moving closer to the hut; she was just hidden. After a while, Balsa was able to make out a little of what Tanda’s father and uncle were saying. She couldn’t really tell what they were talking about, but they seemed angry: they were shouting and waving their arms.
Balsa spent a long while in the trees before Tanda’s father, uncle, and the field workers who’d come with them went home. She gestured to Tanda, who ran up to her.
“My dad seems mad about something,” Tanda said. “Was he mad at me?”
Balsa shook her head. “I think they came here looking for Torogai. That’s what I heard, anyway. They were upset that she wasn’t here.”
Tanda was surprised--and a little uneasy. Why would his father seek out Torogai? “Did you hear why they wanted to see Torogai?” Tanda asked.
“Something about lifting a curse on the village before the harvest was over...I didn’t catch many of the details. I think they left a message for her to meet them at the village messenger’s house when she gets back.”
Tanda frowned. So this is about Uncle Onza again...
Rice harvesting was the most important time of year for the village. The blackbugs were a scourge, and it seemed that the rumor they’d been caused by a curse had spread.
“We should eat,” Balsa said. “Then I’ll see you home. You’ve probably missed dinner already.”
Tanda shook his head. “It’s too dangerous to go down the mountain at night. Yamahata’s Neih was attacked by a wild dog, and I think Uncle Onza was killed by one. I’m sure dad came here because of that.”
Tanda told Balsa all about the problems the village had been having over the past week or so.
Balsa snorted. “That’s it? That’s why your dad came?” She hoisted up her net full of fish and took them close to the well. Then she unsheathed a small knife and started scaling and boning the fish. Tanda stood next to Balsa at the well, then crouched down.
“Balsa,” Tanda said, “do you believe in curses?”
Balsa stopped gutting the fish, then shrugged. “I guess I do. Who knows?” Then she saw Tanda’s face and added, “But I don’t think your Uncle Onza would curse your village. I think he’d be sad if you even thought he’d do something like that.”
Tanda frowned. He’d never seen his uncle sad when he was alive. Uncle Onza had always been smiling. “I...don't know how he would feel. But you’re probably right.”
Balsa washed fish guts off her hands, then faced Tanda squarely. “I don’t know anything about curses,” Balsa said, “but I can’t imagine your uncle going around cursing your fields or anything. What would be the point?” She frowned. “And are they blaming Onza for attacking that girl? I thought he was killed by that wild dog...your dad is stupid.”
Balsa slid the boned and scaled fish into a bucket, then pulled out another fish from her net.
Tanda didn’t know what to say. He felt like if he spoke, he would be arguing against his own thoughts. What the villagers believed didn’t make sense, that was true, but he wasn’t sure how to explain the wild dog attacks or the blackbugs. Maybe this was a curse caused by something else, and not Uncle Onza.
Balsa let Tanda sit in silence for a while, then said, “I believe in curses, but I don’t think the dead curse people,” she said. “If they could, it would be a lot more common. People die with a lot of grudges and hatred and regrets. If they decided to curse everyone they were still mad at, the world would be in trouble.”
Balsa washed her hands with fresh water from the well. “I think Jiguro and I would both be dead, if spirits could curse us...” Balsa’s tone was bitter. She drew up more water in a large bucket.
Tanda said nothing. He was looking at Balsa and thinking. Balsa wasn’t looking at him. She gritted her teeth and kept her eyes on the fish and the well bucket. Tanda noticed Balsa’s anger sparking to life, but it wasn’t him that she was mad at. Tanda didn’t know everything about Balsa’s life, but he knew that she and Jiguro had been pursued by enemies for a very long time. He also knew that Jiguro had been forced to kill some of his former friends in order to keep himself and Balsa safe.
There were many things that Tanda didn’t like about Balsa’s situation. Overall, he thought that Balsa’s personality and her own life circumstances were mismatched. She was so brave and so strong: she wasn’t the kind of person that he ever expected to run from danger. She was no skittish rabbit, but a chasing wolf: violent, fast, and threatening.
Balsa looked at Tanda again, then said harshly, “If the villagers are so scared of some curse, why’d they dump your uncle’s body on the edge of town, huh? I don’t think spirits hold grudges or cause curses, but it’s never a good thing, showing disrespect to the dead. If they wanna end the curse, they should bury him properly, yeah?”
Tanda blinked. Balsa’s tone was rough, but the sentiment behind her words was kind. Tanda nodded at her. "I think you're right."
Balsa frowned like something was bothering her. She looked into Tanda's eyes like she was trying to figure him out. Then she said, "What were we talking about, anyway?"
"Dinner," Tanda said. "I think."
"Dinner?" Balsa was still frowning.
"Yeah," Tanda said. "I said I can't eat here because I'll be late going home."
Balsa's expression suddenly transformed to one of rage. "I remember," she spat. "But you have to eat here. Aren't you worried about that wild dog? If you don't have dinner here, you won't have the energy to outrun it if we get attacked by it on the way back to your house."
Tanda should have been used to Balsa's vehemence, but this attitude was a bit excessive, even for her. "Uh...okay. I'll eat here."
It didn't show on her face, but Balsa's anger lifted from her shoulders like a weight. She seemed...happy? Relieved?
"Okay," she said. "You cook the rice and vegetables, and I'll handle the fish."
Tanda nodded, then stood up straight. He was used to cooking for Torogai, since she often asked him to make dinner when he visited her. Balsa always seemed glad when he was there to cook dinner. She was skilled at many things, but she was not a very good cook. Tanda suspected that she couldn't cook as well as him because she was impatient. She always lifted the lid off the pot to check things, and she was usually thinking about spear practice, so sometimes she forgot what she was responsible for making.
By the time Tanda and Balsa sat down to dinner, the sky was orange-purple with early evening shadows. They roasted fish over the low hearth in center of the hut. Tanda found some pickled vegetables and brine to use as a kind of sauce and added the leftover brine to the cooked rice.
"Delicious." Balsa licked her fingers. "The fish fatten up before winter, too. This is the best time to eat them." She was in a good mood. The oils in the fish and the savoriness of the pickles and salt satisfied a craving that she hadn't previously been aware of.
"It tastes better because Torogai uses rice that was harvested last year," Tanda said. "Most of the rice we use in the village is two years old, and it starts drying out. This stuff smells great." Tanda inhaled the steam coming off of his cooked rice with a contented expression.
"But we'll have fresh rice at my house soon," Tanda said. "After the harvest."
Balsa nodded. "I just remembered...you started bringing in the harvest, what, a week ago?"
"Five days ago," Tanda said.
"Your dad came here and asked me to help with separating out the new rice into bushels," she said.
"Really? I didn't know that."
"Yep," she said. "I helped Miss Sawa with her weeding and field work during the summer, so I guess word got around."
"I see..."
Miss Sawa lived relatively close to Tanda, so she was probably hard at work harvesting her own rice right now. He was a bit surprised that Miss Sawa had asked for help from wanderers like Jiguro and Balsa, though.
"What did you tell my dad?" Tanda asked. He assumed that if Balsa could work in the fields with him, she would.
Balsa laughed brightly. "Do you really want my help that bad?"
"Of course!" He nodded over and over again.
Balsa's expression was half-exasperated, half-fond. "All right, then. I'll come over and help until dad gets back. We probably have to leave when he does, though. Sorry."
Tanda nodded in understanding.
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