The Wanderer
The steppes
of northern Rota had a kind of wild, rough beauty that Balsa preferred to the
sloping grasslands and forests farther south. Northern Rota’s terrain was also
more rugged and dangerous. Many people had lost their lives crossing over deep
gorges or fording rivers with fast currents. The people in the caravan were familiar
with the route, but accidents could still happen. Everyone was a little on
edge.
The caravan
moved through tall grass, climbing uphill until they reached a wide riverbed.
The river flowed down from the north; Balsa could see it winding through a wooded
area some distance away. The sunlight glistened on its surface, making the
river look like a lazy, shiny-scaled snake. Balsa traced it with her eyes all
the way to the horizon.
The grass
was relatively short here, so bandits couldn’t use it to hide. The river had no
bridge, so the caravan had to look for the shallowest place to cross. Fortunately,
the river itself only reached Balsa’s knees at its deepest point. There were
polished smooth at the bottom of the riverbed. The water whispered over them, flowing
fast. When the first horses tried to cross, the animals paused, made skittish
by the strength of the current.
Balsa was
close to the river. From behind her, she heard Sumal shout, “Oi! Stick close to
the baggage. It’s not safe to ford the stream on foot.”
He
approached Balsa, staying between her and the horses that were about to cross. “It
may not look it, but this is the safest place to cross, since the water’s so
shallow. That doesn’t mean it’s safe. If a horse misses its footing here, it
could be dragged downstream from the current. So watch your step.”
Balsa looked
up at him in surprise. The river didn’t look all that dangerous to her, but
Sumal’s face was pale with dread.
Most of the
caravan made it across the river without incident. Lord Tokian rode up to Sumal
and Balsa and hailed Sumal. Balsa thought that he sounded a little scared. He
was making a brave show of it, but his hands shook where he gripped the horse’s
reins.
“You’re not
thinking about what happened that one time, are you?” Sumal asked.
“No, why
would I be? I fell in more than ten years ago! And yes, you saved my life then,
but I haven’t had a problem since, and would appreciate it if you didn’t make
unwarranted assumptions,” Lord Tokian snapped. “My father paid you plenty extra
for rescuing me. He even paid your son’s funeral expenses—he got a better grave
than the son of a caravan guard deserves. Am I wrong? My father and I have
thanked you enough, and there’s no need for us to thank you more at this point.
You’re always griping; it’s a nuisance.”
Sumal went a
shade paler. A feverish light shone in his eyes, bright, but concentrated into
the pinpricks of his pupils. He gripped his spear and might have been about to
strike out with it when Gozu rode up behind Lord Tokian. Gozu put his hand up,
commanding restraint.
“Lord
Tokian, you’ve said more than enough,” Gozu said. “This is Balsa’s first time
crossing the river. I’m sure he simply wanted her to be aware of the danger, and
giving an example of a past incident is a good way to do that. You shouldn’t
malign your guards in front of the others; it’s terrible for morale. Going on
like that might make a guard pull his weapon on you.”
Tokian
glared at Gozu. “Don’t presume to threaten your employer, Gozu. If you don’t do
well by me and the other merchants who hire you, you’ll never find work again.
If a man draws his sword against me, so be it; I’ll order him killed on the
spot. If I die, all your lives might as
well be over—you’ll have no livelihood. No one would take on a guard who killed
the person he was supposed to protect.
Tokian
returned his attention to Sumal. “If you wish to continue working in this
caravan, watch your mouth, Sumal. I can harm your reputation as easily as I can
end your life, and I won’t hesitate to do it if you don’t fall in line.” He
pulled up on his horse’s reins and started crossing the river. He didn’t look
back—and he didn’t fall in.
Balsa glanced
sidelong at Sumal. His face had no expression. He stared into space, looking at
nothing in particular. He pulled on the reins of his own horse a little,
encouraging the beast into movement. Balsa and Gozu watched him ride off,
giving him some distance before they followed.
“It happened…a
long time ago,” Gozu said softly. “Lord Tokian was fourteen or fifteen. He was
riding across when the horse lost its footing, and he was thrown into the
current. Sumal saved him before he could drown or be washed away.” His mouth
twitched. “It’s an embarrassing memory for Lord Tokian, as I’m sure you can
imagine. Sumal was the most experienced caravan guard they had with them at the
time, and the most indispensable. He certainly proved his worth that day.”
Gozu’s eyes followed
Lord Tokian. “After that, there was always tension between him and the other
caravan guards, especially Sumal. He doesn’t like interacting with us; it irritates
him.” He narrowed his eyes. “Much of what Lord Tokian said was true. He fell
off his horse so fast that I didn’t believe anyone could save him. When Sumal
did, he was made head of the caravan guards by Lord Tokian’s father, and given
a large sum of money as a reward. In addition, Lord Tokian’s father paid to
bury Sumal’s son. But at the time, Sumal wasn’t considering money at all. No
amount of money can wipe away the death of a child.”
Balsa
listened silently. Gozu offered her a bitter smile. “That’s one of the hardest
things about being a caravan guard. We have more opportunities to kill people
for money than we have to save them, but in the end, it comes down to the same
thing—being paid in the coin of other people’s lives. I think about it,
sometimes… I’ve saved many lives over the years, but it’s almost always been
transactional. I often wished people would thank me more with their words and
their attitude, rather than simply with money. But you have to think of it from
the other side. We’re paid to save the people who employ us; that is the job we’ve
been hired to do. If you’re dissatisfied with that, you can’t do the job
properly.”
Balsa stared
at Gozu.
You’re mistaken.
An echo of Jiguro’s words were on her own tongue, but she didn’t say them. But
she did believe that Gozu was wrong. It was only natural to be dissatisfied with
disrespect and a bad attitude, but that feeling didn’t have to affect a caravan
guard’s work performance. Jiguro had saved her life without being paid any
money at all, so saving people’s lives wasn’t necessarily a simple transaction.
There were subtleties in the situation that Gozu either hadn’t mentioned or
hadn’t considered.
Gozu rode ahead
of Balsa and brought his horse alongside Gozu’s. They started talking in fits
and starts. Suddenly, Sumal twisted in his saddle to look at Balsa. “Hey!”
Sumal called out. “Ride closer!”
Balsa approached.
When she was close enough to touch, Sumal rested his hand on her head, then got
a solid grip on her hair. He didn’t pull. “You’re a small guard now, but you’re
getting more experienced by the day,” he said. “Have you thought about what I
said before? Have you thought about anything else you’d like to do instead?”
His voice was quiet, pitched so that only Balsa could hear him easily. He
laughed, then tugged playfully at her ears. She scowled at him.
When Balsa
said nothing, Sumal pointed at a few barrels of toshul on a wagon just ahead of
them. “There’s a difference between this cargo wagon and that one,” he said,
indicating another wagon. “Do you see it?”
Balsa rubbed
her red ears while observing the wagons Sumal had indicated. The two wagons
looked similar at first glance, but Balsa was able to see at least one obvious
difference. “That wagon’s a little taller,” she said.
Sumal
nodded. “The wheels are attached to a higher axle, making it easier for that
wagon to ride above any obstacles. But it also wobbles more, since it’s farther
from the ground. Most of the time, it’s best to move liquor and spirits in
wagons that don’t bounce or wobble much, but toshul is different. The herb and
the grain alcohol separate easily, like oil and water, unless they’re
constantly being mixed together. The rougher the journey, the better the toshul
will be—within reason, anyway. You can usually tell good toshul by the smell—it
should make you a little dizzy when you open the barrel.”
The grain
bees had followed the caravan for most of their journey. They were always
swarming around the cargo barrels.
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