The Wanderer
The sun peeked out from behind the clouds in the late summer sky. The wind blowing through the open window was unseasonably cold and harsh, though the afternoon had been cloyingly hot.
Balsa sat near the window in the tavern, watching a flock of birds make their way across the reddening expanse of sky. The shadows of the birds looked like dark threads woven in a tapestry for contrast. The tavern closed once every ten days to give the people who worked there a rest, so there were no customers here today. The only people Balsa saw were two sets of gamblers rolling dice, competing in games of susutto.
The waiters in the tavern had gone home last night so that they could spend some time with their families before returning early to prepare for tomorrow’s reopening. Balsa would have liked to return home to her family sometimes, too, but she couldn’t. She’d fled from her homeland when she was six years old. It had been seven years since she’d last walked through her own front door. Balsa and her foster father, Jiguro, had been wanderers for that entire time, living and working among strangers in strange lands. That was the only kind of life that Balsa could remember.
Balsa looked up at the darkening sky through the window, feeling deeply lonely. I wonder when dad will come back...
Jiguro’s spear was in bad repair and needed a new point. He’d gone to the swordsmith’s that afternoon and hadn’t returned yet. Balsa suspected that he’d passed a bookstore. He didn’t look it, but Jiguro was an extremely bookish man, and rare old books were a particular weakness of his.
Jiguro guarded the tavern on days when it was open, standing grimly in one corner and refusing to drink or converse with any of the drunken clientele. But on rest days, he would usually go out into the village to buy supplies--and books. Balsa thought that he looked like a completely different person when he was reading. He reminded her very much of her real father--the one she’d lost long ago. He used to read a lot, too.
Balsa knew that her father was never a warrior like Jiguro. When she remembered him now, she thought that he must have been some kind of scholar or researcher; that was the kind of personality he had. He’d read her stories every night before she went to sleep. Jiguro had told her that he was a doctor--the physician to the King of Kanbal. But he’d gotten embroiled in a scheme to assassinate the king using poison. The King of Kanbal’s brother, Rogsam, had ordered him killed.
Balsa’s father, Karuna, and Jiguro had been best friends. Karuna had begged Jiguro to save Balsa, who was only five years old at the time, from being killed. Jiguro had honored his friend’s last wish, defied Rogsam and left Kanbal with Balsa. They hadn’t returned since.
Jiguro and Balsa were the same. He didn’t have a home to return to, either.
Balsa heard cheering behind her and turned around. It seemed that the susutto match was over. She left the window and headed over to the gamblers. She’d heard rumors that gamblers successful enough to make a name for themselves stayed at this tavern sometimes, but she wasn’t acquainted with many of the regulars. She understood gambling primarily in the context of battle, since there was a clear winner and loser.
Balsa knew how to play susutto: she’d learned at a different tavern that Jiguro had worked at the year before. Susutto was the most popular game of chance in Rota. Balsa considered the game very underhanded, since the easiest way to win was through manipulating the dice. Many people in this region played it, including fully half of the local lords and government officials. Important contracts and even war negotiations were conducted through games of susutto.
Unlike tarzu, which was played with pieces shaped into horses, warriors and kings, susutto was played primarily with dice. Rolling a 1 was the best: its rank corresponded to a king in tarzu and meant that the king could move. Rolling a 2 corresponded to a soldier’s rank, and so on. The two players would each roll a die and maneuver their pieces based on which ones were allowed to move. The winner of the round received a point in a tally log.
The game was simple to play, but not so simple to win. Losing a round usually meant that the player had to give up something--money, typically, or land, or titles. The guests of the tavern schemed to come up with ways to get some of the money of the local lords for themselves. Moneychangers hovered at the sides of every game, ready to swoop in and offer a favorable exchange rate into any currency the player might desire. It was easy to for a moneychanger to make their living in a place like this, where money flowed as fast as easily as water.
There were susutto tournaments in Rota, but this tavern was known for a variant of the game called tai susutto, meaning “short susutto.” The games were quick, sudden elimination matches where a winner could be decided in an evening, not the more elaborate games designed for longer tournament settings. Nobles and the royal family of Rota played rotoi susutto, “long susutto,” which was the tournament style of the game.
Long susutto was not limited to tournaments. People played for years at a time, recording victories and losses on lengthy scrolls of parchment. Some long susutto games went on for so long that they became historical records, used to map relations between people and families over long periods of time.
Balsa was exceptionally good at susutto. Her physical training with Jiguro had given her very precise control over her own movements, which extended even to the tips of her fingers. Changing which way a die would fall came as naturally as breathing to her.
The first time Balsa played susutto, she’d become so completely absorbed in the game that she hadn’t quit before winning three weeks’ worth of wages from the waiters in the tavern where she and Jiguro had been staying. She knew at the time that she should have stopped, but the high she got from winning was too intoxicating, too powerful. She couldn’t stop, even when she tried.
Balsa still remembered that night with special affection. She’d rarely ever been so happy in her entire life.
But then....she’d lost.
Lost more than double what she’d won. She had come out of the tavern that night in so much debt that it would take her and Jiguro fifty days to work it off in the tavern.
Jiguro had refused to help her. She’d made her own bed, and had to lie in it. But she hadn’t known how she was supposed to resolve this situation without his help.
“You gambled with money you didn’t have,” Jiguro said gruffly. “The world has decided to teach you a harsh lesson.”
Balsa had learned that lesson well. She was no longer so interested in winning that she lost track of everything else. When she played susutto now, she kept an eye on the time. If she started winning, she quit, and if she started losing, she also quit. It was better to cut her losses and run than to risk getting in too deep again. She understood now that gamblers who won big money one day could easily lose it all--and then some--the next.
Susutto was an easy, addictive game. Balsa had trained herself to resist the allure of winning too much.
The gambler Lahura was a professional when it came to self-restraint. Lahura had been a gambler for many years and specialized in susutto. She understood even better than Balsa that gambling had consequences, and took the long-term view in her playing style. Balsa would learn the fundamentals of her own self-restraint by watching her.
Jiguro was pleased at Balsa’s progress, both at understanding gambling and at working off her debt. She and Jiguro were stuck in place until she’d paid back every last coin. That had been hard for Balsa to stomach at the time, but now, she was grateful for the experience…though she still wasn’t done working off her debt.
There was another cheer from the gambling table. It looked like someone had just won a lot of money. There were several young men and women observing the game in progress. The chill breeze from the window blew in and ruffled their hair and clothes. There were four people competing at the table tonight. Many people from the village had come to watch them play. Balsa heard some of the young men shout to encourage their friends, who seemed to be winning at the moment.
One of the young men was better-dressed than the others, with a decorated collar and clothes made from high-quality material. The color of his overshirt was flashy and had a silk shine. Balsa guessed that he was the son of some famous merchant in the area. He was probably a sponsor of this contest; he certainly seemed to have a very keen interest in who was winning. A shorter, slimmer man stood next to him, also absorbed in the game. Despite the discrepancy in physical size, the two men had very similar facial features. Balsa guessed that they were brothers.
The shorter man poked the taller man in his shoulder, calling his name. He whispered something in his ear.
The only competitor that Balsa knew well was Arl. He was the second son of a local farming family that often supplied the tavern with chicken. He was madly in love with Mana, one of the waitresses who lived on the second floor of the tavern. Mana and Balsa usually slept in the same room. Mana liked Arl, too, and she especially enjoyed gossiping to Balsa about their burgeoning romance.
Arl had won many local susutto competitions before, but Balsa didn’t consider him her rival. She didn’t share Mana’s rosy opinion of him, for one--and she believed that he was a bit too full of himself to really be a serious competitor, for another. He was puffing out his chest now, but the moment he started to lose, he’d deflate. He was a terrible loser and took his losses far too personally. Arl wasn’t a gambler by profession, or even by inclination, really; susutto was something he did in his spare time.
Arl had a nice laugh and was fun to be around as long as he was winning, but Balsa didn’t really understand why Mana liked him so much.
Balsa observed the competition with casual interest. A few rounds passed without much change, but then Arl went as white as a sheet. He’d lost--and lost a lot, judging by the look on his face.
I guess he can’t afford a ring for Mana now, Balsa thought. He’d bragged all morning about buying her a fancy gold ring if he won today. Balsa sighed inwardly. How stupid.
Lahura was Arl’s opponent tonight. She wore a red good-luck charm around her neck. Balsa expected that Lahura had seen Arl’s dejected and lovesick expression countless times before on many different faces.
Lahura had something of a local reputation because of her long career as a gambler. Those who had never seen her and only knew her name through stories might assume that the rumored Lahura was a young man in the prime of life who won his matches and tournaments by intimidating or outwitting opponents, but Lahura’s appearance did not match her reputation in any way. She was an effete, small-boned, seventy-year-old woman.
Lahura seemed genuinely concerned by Arl’s loss. She sat across the table, staring. It was Arl’s turn to roll.
“Oi! It’s your turn!” someone in the crowd shouted. “Keep going!”
Arl looked around the room with an expression of deep concentration. He didn’t want to roll again: that much was clear. His eyes lit on Balsa, who was standing behind a support beam near a wall.
“Hi, Balsa!” Arl waved. “I’m glad you’re here! Can you come over by me?”
Balsa wanted to ignore him, but he looked so hopeful, and there was something in his tone that sounded desperate. She pushed her way through the spectators standing around Arl and Lahura.
“I’m really up against it here,” Arl said to Balsa. “Will you help me? Please?”
Balsa wasn’t sure what she was being asked to do. Arl grabbed her wrist and put it over his die. “I have no luck against Lahura,” he said. “Roll for me! That’s fine, Zukan, right? I’ll pay you more if you let her roll.”
Some of the men watching broke into raucous laugher. “Oi, what’s wrong with you, huh? Lost your nerve?”
“Getting a little girl to roll for you? Pathetic.”
Zukan was the tall man who looked like a rich merchant’s son. He laughed with the others, then sat down in a chair at the gambling table. The chair squeaked as he settled his bulk into it.
“You there, girl. How old are you?”
“Thirteen,” Balsa said.
Zukan laughed again, and the room laughed with him--but the sound was more threatening than jovial. Arl’s hand, still wrapped around Balsa’s wrist, started trembling slightly.
“And how much extra are you prepared to wager?” Zukan asked Arl.
The sum Arl named sounded astronomically huge to Balsa. His voice was barely louder than a whisper. Balsa guessed that he wasn’t about to leave the table until he’d won enough back to buy Mana the ring he’d promised her.
Balsa didn’t like to admit it, not even to herself, but she felt sorry for Arl. And she was a little angry at Zukan for underestimating her. She faced Zukan and said, “What’s wrong? Are you afraid to let a little girl play? Maybe you think I’ll upstage you or the other gamblers, hm?”
Zukan was still smiling, but his smile no longer reached his eyes. The chair under him creaked as he stood up. “Don’t go picking any fights, missy. It’s fine. I’ll let you play in Arl’s place, and I’ll play against you myself. If you don’t win, I guess I can always sell you to pay off his debt.”
Balsa didn’t let Zukan’s empty threat rattle her. She pulled up a chair and waited for her turn to play susutto. She was grateful not to have Lahura as an opponent, but Zukan. She was angry at Zukan and excited to be playing again. She always felt warm all over when she was about to win. Winning at susutto warmed her from within, though she was more careful now than she used to be and didn’t let the game go to her head.
Arl had lost over half his soldier tokens. The ones that remained guarded the bridge that led to his king. If Balsa lost those, the game was as good as over...she’d only create more debt for Arl.
This was a crisis. Zukan was a deeply unpleasant man, and he’d already made a threat about owning her. She knew that he owned a third of this province’s land, and she wasn’t about to let him acquire anything else.
Balsa scanned the record of the game so far. Some of the moves looked a bit strange to her, and some seemed downright impossible. This log extended back several days and listed the moves of several competitors. Balsa strongly suspected that Zukan was altering the log to make the games look more favorable to the people he was betting on.
He’s rigging the games.
Balsa bit her lip. It would be hard to prove from this book alone, but Balsa was convinced that Zukan was cheating somehow. She could do nothing without definitive proof, so she turned her attention back to the game.
Lahura was a strange woman. Though she was a very successful gambler, she’d never bought any land for herself, nor did she want to govern any part of the territory. She lived as a wanderer, riding the same kind of horse that traveling merchants and artists often chose to use. When she was in need of money, she smuggled common goods like food and medicine and sold them to people in dire straits because of war or famine. That was how she made her money, apart from gambling. But Lahura was getting old, and couldn't ride nearly as well anymore.
A few times in the past, Lahura had taken large sums of money from Zukan and other lords at gambling, which surprised Balsa. Lahura never seemed all that interested in money or power.
Lahura’s expression did not shift. She stared dispassionately down at the game as if it didn’t interest her in the slightest. Balsa was scared of ever facing Lahura as an opponent. She tried not to let any fear show on her face.
“Oi! Stop hesitating! Roll already!” Zukan called out in irritation.
Balsa nodded, as much to herself as Zukan, and rolled. She knew at least one strategy that might work in her favor here. She would have to abandon the remaining soldiers Arl had--for now--and focus on attacking Zukan’s soldiers, who were on a practically indefensible part of the game board. That was the easiest way to force a path to his king, though the strategy was obviously very risky.
Balsa rolled the die again, focusing on bringing her pieces in range to attack Zukan’s. She knew how the die would fall without even looking at it. A hush fell over the tavern as spectators watched with bated breath.
The lord betting on Zukan and the competitors in his employ for this contest started to understand what Balsa was doing at around midnight, but by then, it was too late to prevent Zukan’s loss. Balsa wiped out Arl’s debt, and made enough on top of that to buy a whole jug of good sake, too. The lord’s proud face was pinched and his tone of voice became obnoxious and irritable.
The contest ended with Balsa’s victory. No one clapped, but Balsa heard several heartfelt sighs of relief. The waiters and waitresses of the tavern started arriving to set up the kitchen to serve drinks and meals in the morning, but Jiguro did not return.
I wonder if he heard something about our pursuers, she thought. Sometimes, Jiguro heard troubling news about Kanbal and stayed out longer to investigate the rumors further.
Balsa looked up the staircase of the tavern that led to the second floor with a frown. The only time Jiguro had been out this late before, he’d been following up on a caravan guard job in the village. If he was out trying to find a job, that meant the two of them would be leaving this place soon. The exhilaration of winning for Arl gradually faded as the reality of her situation sunk in. While the King of Kanbal lived, Balsa and Jiguro wouldn’t be allowed to live in peace anywhere. Jiguro knew too much about King Rogsam’s evil deeds. If their pursuers found them, Balsa didn’t expect that they would allow her and Jiguro to live.
Balsa was about to go upstairs to the room she shared with Jiguro when Arl called out to her.
“Hey, Balsa! Wait!” Arl grabbed Balsa’s hand and steered her out into the yard behind the tavern. There was a well not far from the door that people used to wash dishes and clothing. It was still dark outside, but Balsa could see Mana standing in the window of the tavern, illuminated by candlelight.
“Thanks so much for stepping in for me,” Arl said. “That was an amazing victory.” He waved to Mana, who joined them outside. He told Mana all about Balsa’s defeat of Zukan in the susutto contest, smiling all the while. Arl’s hand came down on Balsa’s shoulder and clasped it in a friendly sort of way.
The gate latch creaked: people were preparing to leave the tavern in a long line, now that the tournament was over. Balsa saw Zukan and his entourage in the crowd.
Arl frowned as Zukan and his men came closer. He stepped in front of Mana to protect her, if the need arose. Zukan and the others were shouting drunkenly with their arms linked together. It wasn’t clear if doing this helped them maintain their balance or made them more likely to fall: several of the men stumbled as they walked.
A man--Zukan’s younger brother--staggered to a halt in front of Balsa. He ran a hand over her chest before she could step back. Balsa’s vision went white with rage. She side-stepped the man, breaking his hold on her, and shot her hand out between his legs, putting his more tender parts in a painful visegrip.
The man screamed. Balsa let him go, shoving him hard into a taller man who was standing right behind him. Balsa stepped around the men surrounding her and jumped at Zukan’s younger brother.
Zukan’s younger brother shifted to face her, eyes wide open in shock. Balsa yanked him down by the hair, pulling his nose directly into her upward palm strike. Zukan’s younger brother cried out, though the sound was a bit muffled due to his broken nose.
Balsa hadn’t let go of his hair. As blood streamed down his face, she yanked him all the way down onto his back on the ground and pinned his chest using one knee. Her hands pushed down on his shoulders, hard.
Zukan’s men tried to pull Balsa off of his little brother, but Balsa refused to let go of the man’s head. Whenever they tried to pull her up and off, she slammed the man’s head into the ground over and over again, making him scream even more. She was so angry that she didn’t fully realize what she was doing, or she might have stopped. Maybe.
Something freezing cold passed over Balsa’s back. Her hands stilled. She blinked water out of her eyes and looked around. Someone had thrown a bucket of water from the well over her and the other men fighting to break things up.
“Stop it! Just stop!” Lahura yelled. She was holding the bucket.
Balsa, Zukan, his brother and his men stared at Lahura in shock.
“If you keep beating him like that, you’ll kill him,” Lahura said.
Balsa blinked, then took a deep breath. Her hands were covered in blood, and so was the face of Zukan’s little brother. The man’s eyes were open--he was still alive--but only just. Balsa felt herself start shaking.
Lahura placed the warm weight of her hand on Balsa’s elbow and helped her stand.
Zukan drew his sword and leveled it at Balsa. “Come here, girl,” he said in a tone of command. “Don’t think I’ll let you live after what you just did.”
Lahura gripped Balsa’s shoulder. “Mr. Zukan,” she said. Her tone was entirely calm. “Your brother touched her first. If you wish revenge for your lost game of susutto, settle it on the game board. The tavern yard is no place for petty squabbles.”
“You old hag,” Zukan shot back. “Do you presume to lecture me? If you’re as good a gambler as they say, then you should know when you’re pushing your luck.” Zukan swiped his sword at Lahura in a threatening way, but Lahura stood firm. Her hand was still on Balsa’s shoulder.
“I asked her to stop,” she said, nodding to Balsa. “I’ll ask you, too. Stop this madness before someone gets seriously hurt.” Lahura sounded exhausted. “And don’t forget what Nakazu will to you if you harm me, young man.”
Zukan’s men gasped. Nakazu was famous in the province for supporting only top-talent gamblers. He had rank and power equal to one of Rota’s clan lords. Lahura was one of the gamblers that Nakazu backed, and his backing came with certain benefits. For all intents and purposes, Lahura was considered Nakazu’s investment. If anyone harmed her, Nakazu would extract the appropriate restitution. Susutto--and gambling in general--was no laughing matter in Rota.
If Nakazu was backing Lahura as a gambler, it meant that she was nationally ranked as one of the best gamblers in the entire country.
Zukan stared down Lahura and didn’t move.
“You seem to enjoy susutto,” Lahura said. “Would you really rather never play it again? That will happen, if you continue to threaten us.”
Zukan snorted. “Fine. We’ll play again, someday.” He gestured for his men to follow him.
Lahura released Balsa’s shoulder. Arl rushed up and led Balsa, Lahura and Mana back inside the tavern.
“Can you stay the night?” Mana asked. “I’d feel safer with you here.”
Arl shook his head. “I wish I could, but I have to start chores early this morning...”
Lahura led Balsa past Mana and Arl in the common room of the tavern, back toward the susutto tournament tables. Some cholu had been left behind on the tables, and the air was thick with smoke. Lahura invited Balsa to sit down. Balsa pulled a chair up in front of Lahura’s table. Lahura nodded, satisfied, and sat down across from her.
Since the waiters had returned, some people had already started ordering food and drink. There was a plate of fried meat on the table, not yet cold. Lahura reached out for a piece of meat.
“You know my name,” Lahura said, “don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Balsa said. “It’s Lahura.”
Lahura smiled. “My real name is Azuno. Your real name must be Balsa, for you to react that way. You should be more careful about who you reveal your true name to.”
Balsa nodded crisply. Jiguro was always telling her to be more careful.
“I was concerned for you when I heard those men calling your name,” Lahura said. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Thank you,” Balsa said.
Lahura’s hands trembled finely. She held them together to keep them still. “Tell me...how many years have you been playing susutto?” she asked.
“Uh...” Balsa thought for a moment. “I’ve been playing for less than a year.”
Lahura’s eyebrows rose slightly. Her eyes, usually as flat and disinterested as the rest of her expression, took on an uncharacteristic gleam. “Hm...” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she thought better of it.
Someone had rubbed their greasy hands all over the table before Lahura and Balsa had sat down. Lahura wiped down the table with a clean napkin, then stood up and stretched extravagantly. “What a night,” she said. “It’s about time we both got some sleep.”
Balsa stood up. She was still right on the edge of anger at being assaulted, but she was too tired to maintain vigilance over herself for much longer.
“Miss Lahura--I mean, Azuno,” Balsa said.
Azuno was in the doorway, heading for the next room. She turned around when Balsa called out to her. “Yes?”
“Are you going to be staying here for a while?” Balsa asked.
“I really can’t say,” Lahura said, resting her hand on the doorframe. “I usually stay here for two months out of the year. It’s a little embarrassing, but at my age, it’s hard to just pick up and travel as much as I want anymore.”
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