Those Who Walk the Flame Road
Hugo awoke to the sound of a tentative knock on the door and a muffled voice calling out to him. The room was still dark, but a little light spilled in from the slightly open door. There was something going on in the hallway.
“Come in,” Hugo said.
The door slid all the way open, and the smell of soup drifted to Hugo’s nose.
“Smells like medicine in here,” Toran grumbled. He placed a tray with soup and freshly cooked rice next to Hugo’s bedside. Considering the time, it was probably the end of his work shift. As the hallway quieted, Hugo realized that the commotion he’d just heard was probably a shift change. A few of the waiters hung in the doorway, peeking in.
“Oh, come in, all of you,” Hugo said, feigning irritation. “You’re blocking the hallway for other people, y’know.”
The other waiters scampered in all at once like they’d been waiting for an excuse, laughing and slapping one another’s backs in encouragement.
“Oi, don’t push!” Toran cautioned. “You’ll kick over the soup if you’re not careful.”
The other boys took this warning to heart and lined up along the wall so that they wouldn’t step on the futon or the tray. Toran knelt down in front of Hugo’s bed and asked, “Are you really okay?”
Hugo nodded, then stood up, but he couldn’t stay on his feet for too long. He sat cross-legged on the futon. “I’m fine now,” Hugo said. “Or I will be in a few days. Sorry if I worried you.”
Toran shook his head. “After you got taken away by those fancy officials, we all thought you got a better job for a while.”
“Don’t say that,” one of the waiters put in.
“Yeah, it’s obvious that’s not what happened.” Toran smiled apologetically.
“Hugo’s got a girlfriend,” Nal said, sniggering. “She came in here to treat his injuries. I saw her.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Hugo mumbled. “She’s my sister.”
“Really? Coulda sworn she was somethin’ else.”
Toran stood up and slapped Nal. “You’re the only one who thinks that, fool.” He faced Hugo again with a very serious expression. “Dauran’s gang are spreading the rumor that they beat you half to death. We all knew that wasn’t true, but they’re still after you, so keep an eye out when you leave.”
Hugo nodded in understanding. Toran actually appeared a little angry on his behalf, and Hugo remembered seeing that same look on Ryuan’s face when he’d met her after a four-year gap.
"I wasn't sure it was you. I was surprised to see you. You've changed… a lot,” Ryuan had said.
Hugo had laughed. "I suppose I have. You've probably heard people talking about me beating people up and things like that. Well, they tried to beat me up first, but I guess it doesn't really matter. I guess I've become a ruffian, like your dad said. I bought myself a good pair of leather boots to hide a dagger in... taking over the other gangs is boring. It's too easy, but I don't know what else to do."
Hugo hadn’t gotten in a fight for what felt like a very long time, but seeing Toran’s angry concern and feeling his strength gradually return put a little of the old fighting spirit back into him. He didn’t even care about who his opponent would be; anyone at all would do.
The aching void that was lodged where Hugo’s life’s purpose used to be wavered under the onslaught of Hugo’s sudden enthusiasm to fight. Warriors fought. Even when there was nothing but life left to fight for, they battled on.
“Toran.”
“Yeah?”
“D’you know who’s spreading the rumor that Dauran’s gang half-killed me?”
“There’s a bunch of ‘em. Why?”
“Tell me the name of the biggest, meanest one,” Hugo said, sitting up straight. “I’m going after him next.”
The other waiters exchanged excited glances.
“Not right now; not for two or three days.” Hugo smiled, showing teeth. “Hide me here until my wounds heal. Then we’ll have ourselves a party.”
Toran and the other waiters agreed with that plan. Some started telling stories of when they’d gotten mixed up with Dauran’s gang before; the feud between them was of long standing. When Hugo won this next fight, it would become a supporting legend in the long war waged between factions.
By the time the waiters left to go to sleep, Hugo’s rice and soup were cold. Toran stayed with him and watched him eat. The medicine in the soup numbed the cuts in his mouth. It also made the soup too bitter.
Toran waited until Hugo was done with his soup before saying, “Hugo. I don’t know if it’s my place to say anything, but...”
“Spit it out,” Hugo said.
“That girl--your sister. She said she had to leave because your uncle was sick.”
Hugo dropped his bowl of soup.
“She asked me not to tell you,” he said. “She said he’ll be all right. But I thought you might ask where she’d gone.”
Hugo remembered what Ryuan had said to him the last time they’d talked. We can't change where we are or what's happened to us in the past. But we can still change the future for the better. If we do nothing, then nothing changes. We're here, for better or worse, and we have to live where we are.
Had Yoar been sick then? Had Ryuan resigned herself to whatever might happen to her and her father?
Hugo’s dropped bowl fell onto his rice with a splintering sound.
***
Three days after his return to Tomuran’s restaurant, Hugo got out of bed early and requested a few hours off in the afternoon. His request was happily granted, and he left the restaurant after helping with morning chores.
It had rained for most of the previous night and it was still raining when Hugo left. The sky was streaked with gray clouds turned yellow at the edges by morning sunlight. The whole world was under a spell of gloom as Hugo walked through the quiet city.
He found Yoar and Ryuan’s house near the narrow canal easily enough, but there were no white birds perched on the roof this morning, as was usual. No taramu came out to greet him, either. There didn’t seem to be anyone at home.
Hugo stood under the eaves of the house with his umbrella and waited. Ryuan had probably gone on an errand or something. The door was partway open, and within, Hugo caught a glimpse of Yoar resting on his futon.
“Uncle Yoar?” Hugo asked softly.
When there was no immediate reply, Hugo assumed that he was still asleep. But then Yoar shifted on his bed and turned toward the door. “Oh? Hugo? Is that you?”
Yoar invited Hugo inside. Hugo came in and shut the door. Yoar tried to stand up and stumbled a little.
“Please, don’t get up,” Hugo said. “You need rest.” He sat down near Yoar’s futon.
Yoar sat down again, his eyes drifting toward the fireplace. “Ryuan went out to fetch mending from people in the neighborhood. She should be back later.” There was no vitality in Yoar’s voice. His skin was ashen and his cheeks were hollow. Hugo shifted closer to him reflexively, worried but not sure that he should show it.
Hugo looked where Yoar was looking: at the fire. There were no fishes drying there like there always were when Hugo had lived here, and Hugo didn’t see any fish out being salted or brined, either.
“Can I help?” Hugo asked. “Where does it hurt?”
Yoar shrugged. “Everywhere.”
Hugo’s eyes widened in alarm. “Should I fetch the doctor?” The futility of his question struck Hugo only after he said it. Yoar was a fisherman, and everyone knew that fishermen had no money. Doctors wouldn’t make house calls for free.
Another sad fact struck Hugo: Yoar had a business, but no son. Under Talsh law, that meant he would either have to enlist in the army himself--impossible at his age, and with his health being what it was--or suffer under extremely high taxation on his profits. Yoar had made little enough money before. Hugo didn’t like to think about how little he and Ryuan had to live on now.
Hugo pulled out his wallet and was about to pass it to Yoar when his hands froze. The light of life was back in Yoar’s eyes, but his expression was grim and forbidding. “If money could save me, I would thank you twice over,” he said in a quavering voice. “As it is, I appreciate the sentiment. But I won’t take your charity for nothing.”
“A doctor could save you,” Hugo said.
Yoar sniffed derisively. “Even if they could, you’d never get one to come out and save a poor man. I’ve seen their sort in the street, proud and pompous and cruel to people they think are beneath them. I won’t have one in my house.” His tone was firm, but there was no anger in his eyes.
“I can understand how you feel, a little. But try to understand how I feel, too. You and Ryuan took me in, kept me safe and taught me how to live when I didn’t have anyone. Won’t you at least let me pay your taxes from my wages? I know you’ve probably heard terrible rumors about be being a gang leader or a bandit or something, and some of those are true, but all the money in this pouch is honestly earned. I want you to have it. Please, take it.”
Tears streamed from the corners of Yoar’s eyes.
Hugo looked at the floor. He felt a crushing weight on his chest, and it was only getting heavier the longer he sat in silence with Yoar. Unable to bear the quiet and stillness any longer, Hugo stood up, bowed once to Yoar and left.
It was still drizzling outside. Hugo stumbled along the canal toward a patch of grass and slipped off his straw sandals when his footing became too slippery because of the rain. He collapsed to his knees in the grass and hid his face in his arms, wanting to cry.
The tears wouldn’t come. The pain of his emotions seared his chest, but those emotions couldn’t escape through tears. Hugo hugged himself in the rain for a long time.
***
Sound returned to Hugo after what felt like a long time spent in silence. He heard people’s voices and boats moving up and down the canal. Sailors shouted orders from the decks of larger boats. Birds twittered on the roofs of the nearby houses.
Hugo lifted his face and noticed that the rain had finally stopped. He was sitting down in the grassy area he remembered, and while his emotions still swirled within him, demanding some kind of outlet, he was calmer now. Raindrops glimmered on the grass around him, and birds peered down at him curiously from their high perches.
Next to his ankle, partially hidden by the grass, there was a small bowl. Maybe someone had thrown it out? Hugo wasn’t sure why it would be here otherwise. The rim was chipped and there were spider cracks all along its surface.
There was a grasshopper inside the bowl, stuck. It kept trying to jump out and getting caught on the rim, then skittered back down to the center of the bowl.
“Do you want to get out of there?” Hugo asked. “You’re probably safer inside the bowl. The birds won’t get you as easily.”
The grasshopper kept jumping wildly. Hugo placed his finger on the chipped part of the bowl’s rim and watched as the grasshopper finally leaped and found solid footing on his finger. He set the grasshopper gently down in the grass. It was hard to tell, but Hugo thought that it was happy to be out of the bowl. Hugo would be. No one liked being trapped.
Hugo realized that he was anthropomorphizing a grasshopper and looked up at the sky to distract himself. Grasshoppers can’t smile. Who knows how it felt? He hoped no one was observing him right now; he felt more than a little like an idiot.
A breeze from the canal pushed Hugo’s hair over his shoulder. No one needs me here. Not anymore.
In some ways, Hugo felt like the grasshopper in the bowl. He was beset on all sides with people that wished to harm him, and he didn’t see any way out of that situation. Even though he’d caused most of his problems himself--even though he’d jumped in the bowl of his own accord--what he wanted right now was to escape.
Why can’t I get out?
He’d had a way out with Oru Zan and the Talsh, but he hadn’t been brave or foolish enough to take it. He still had no desire to serve Talsh, and when he thought of Oru Zan’s offer now, he thought it would be like trading his current bowl for a bigger one. Same situation, different stakes.
Hugo had long since given up on saving his city. It would never be what it was when he was a child. But he couldn’t deny that he was reluctant to leave his homeland, no matter how reduced its circumstances. The worse things got, the more Hugo wanted to fight.
High above his head, a hawk was flying in lazy circles. Sunlight played off its wings in a dance of light and shadow, and Hugo realized something about the bowl he was holding in his hand: it was of Talsh design.
The bowl was cracked and useless to the Talsh now, but the grasshopper had used it to shelter from the prying eyes of birds and other predators. Maybe Hugo hadn’t saved it. Maybe...
Maybe the grasshopper was trying to stay hidden. It didn’t want anyone to rescue it. It was waiting for the perfect moment to make its own escape.
Hugo was born the son of a Mikado’s Shield. He was trained to believe that his only loyalty was to the Mikado and Yogo’s people, and that he would live and die according to the Mikado’s decrees, but that life was no longer possible for him, or for anyone else. He was the last survivor of all the Mikado’s Shields. By staying hidden in the bowl, he’d escaped the fate of his exposed family, friends and neighbors.
Sun pierced the lead-gray clouds, revealing patches of clear blue sky. Hugo took a deep breath. His hair was still wet and sticking to his forehead because of the rain. As the idea of the bowl and all its implications solidified for him, he found it hard to breathe.
Dark clouds hid the sky. Grass hid the ground. Maybe Hugo could be a person who moved in hidden places. If he was in the bowl already, he should be able to use it to his advantage.
Hugo kept looking at the hawk in the sky until his allergies started acting up. He sneezed, then moved out of the patch of grass and took the first steps toward a new future.
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