Where the Wind Takes Us
Balsa and Tanda’s lodgings at the Herb Market were close to a hot spring famed for its medicinal effectiveness. Even when the Herb Market wasn’t open, travelers visited this town from miles around to take the hot spring cure. Tanda and Balsa were looking forward to taking a dip in the hot springs as well, but they didn’t get the chance: they were too busy with Tanda’s new patient. Gamal wasn’t beyond healing, but if his wounds were left untreated for too long, they would become severe enough to kill him.
Tanda washed Gamal’s wounds thoroughly, then started preparing medicine. Balsa helped him work around his missing arm, adding herbs to boiling water and holding the bandages in place while Tanda wound them. For the deeper wound on his back, Balsa shifted Gamal toward Tanda at an angle, supporting him so that Tanda could stitch up the wound.
“I’m kinda getting used to this,” Tanda said.
A Sadan Taram remained near Gamal all through his treatment. One of them, a woman named Kii, had rushed to the market to buy a list of herbs that Tanda had given to her. Her instrument was a small hand drum. “Do you have much experience?” Kii asked. “It seems so.”
“Yeah.” Tanda chuckled. “Treating this is easy, like a baby eating rice. They can do it without teeth, even. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need care, but he should be doing much better in a couple days.”
“That’s a relief,” Kii said. “I thought so. You two work well together, like old friends, and I knew that you were acquainted with Gamal, miss. Your paths met once before, and you marched to the beat of the same drum.”
Tanda bit off the thread he’d used to bind Gamal’s wound with his teeth. Balsa smiled.
A few hours later, Gamal was burning up with fever. “That’s from the sword wound,” Tanda said. “I washed it as best I could, but contaminants got in before I could treat him. Hopefully it will break soon.” He gave Gamal some medicine to bring down the fever.
“Is his life in danger?” Kii asked. She’d stayed with Gamal the entire time. A few other Sadan Taram women were also sitting nearby, talking in low voices and watching over Gamal.
Tanda shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“How soon will he be able to walk?”
“Hm.” Tanda thought for a moment. “Well, he’s young and healthy otherwise, so I don’t think his recovery should be any longer than five days.”
The women behind Kii whispered to one another. “We can’t spare five days.”
“We cannot, but he must remain," Kii said. “If he needs five days to get better, he will remain here for five days. We have no other choice but to go on without him.”
More whispers from the Sadan Taram women. Tanda looked to Balsa in puzzlement. They both knew a little about the Sadan Taram’s nomadic ways, but Tanda didn’t understand why they couldn’t stay with Gamal for a few days until he was well.
Sansa, the woman who’d been accused of theft at the Herb Market, stood up. “We can’t keep traveling without Gamal. Without a guard, we’ll be easy prey for bandits or wild beasts.”
The Sadan Taram were no strangers to the dangers of the road. When they encountered bandits they often handed over all their money and valuables in exchange for their lives, but without Gamal as a guard, it was more likely that any bandits they encountered would take more from them than just money.
Traveling further into Rota along well-kept roads would keep the Sadan Taram safe from most bandits, but they were closer to northern Rota than southern Rota, and packs of wolves roved the forests and the hills. There weren’t many cities or places to camp, so they would have to make do outside most of the time. Without Gamal, who could crush a wolf’s skull in a single strike, they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves nearly as well.
“You might join up with a caravan for protection,” Tanda suggested.
“We can’t,” Kii said. “No caravan follows our journey’s path. We might be safe for a while, only for the caravan to turn away to their destination and leave us in a dangerous location.”
Sansa turned to a young woman and asked, "What should we do, Conductor?" 'Conductor' sounded like a title. Gamal was her uncle. She appeared too young to be leading a group of Sadan Taram.
The young woman looked up. "Did you say your name was Balsa?" she asked.
Balsa frowned a little. "Are you looking to hire a guard?"
Kii and Sansa smiled at each other like they thought that hiring Balsa was their leader's idea all along.
"I can't help you," Balsa said. "I have to get back to New Yogo before winter."
“Why?” the leader asked.
Balsa shrugged. “I’m my partner’s missing hand, and that’s where he’s going. If you were headed toward New Yogo, I might be able to help you out, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to go out of my way.”
A complicated expression passed over Tanda’s face, then vanished. “If it’s me you’re worried about, don’t be,” he said. “I can travel anywhere, Balsa, just like you.”
Kii appeared troubled. “If you’re a guard-for-hire… well, that’s not what I expected to hear.”
“What did you expect, then?” Balsa asked.
Kii and Sansa exchanged glances. Mere moments before, they’d believed Balsa was the answer to their traveling woes, but it seemed that this wasn’t the case.
“Balsa,” Tanda said. “We can go, if--”
“Don’t go ganging up on me now,” Balsa said. “I’m the one who’d have to protect you all if things go wrong. Besides, they can’t afford me.”
Kii nodded. “I hadn’t considered that. Conductor, did you know that Balsa is ranked as a first-class bodyguard and caravan guard? They’re the very best, but no one can hire them cheaply.”
Tanda looked at Balsa and nodded a little. He understood now that she was actually trying to be considerate of these women. They couldn’t afford the cost of hiring her.
Balsa was being considerate in another way, too, though Tanda wasn’t aware of it. It was the Conductor’s role to protect her band, and if she couldn’t do it on her own, she would be shamed. Asking Balsa for help wasn’t the best option; not yet. She hadn’t given up on solving this problem on her own.
For the Conductor’s part, she knew that there was unique protocol when a Sadan Taram band hired on a guard from the outside world. She remembered all those rules now, feeling a prickle of discomfort at the back of her mind. She’d gotten so used to Gamal protecting them all that she didn’t like the idea of hiring someone else.
“Forgive us,” Sansa said. “We are ignorant of things like guard rates. We don’t hire guards often.”
The Conductor nodded. “Would you be so kind as to inform us of your rate, Balsa?”
Balsa told them what she was usually paid per day. The Conductor winced, then pursed her lips. The price would be a pittance to a wealthy band of traveling artists or to a caravan owner, but the Sadan Taram were far from wealthy.
“You said before that Gamal owed you a debt for food and shelter,” the Conductor said. “Surely that’s worth a bit of a discount.”
Kii shook her head emphatically. “Forgiveness, but when the Sadan Taram harbor a person, it is with the expectation that there will be no reward, monetary or otherwise. For us to shortchange Balsa in such a way would be dishonorable. I now think that Balsa denied our request initially because she understood this.”
Kii turned to Balsa and smiled. “Who would have thought we would ever cross paths again? It’s been almost twenty years since we last traveled together. I never thought you’d appear to rescue us in the market out of the blue like that.” She smiled again. “You got stronger, just like you wanted. I bet you could beat Jiguro with the spear now, if you two ever competed.”
Balsa smiled back at her. Kii was three years younger than her. When they’d first traveled together, she was a child with a bright future and a forthright way of thinking that was easy for Balsa to understand. They got along well in those days, and she hoped they’d part on good terms now. Sansa was more than ten years older than Balsa and was close to fifty years old.
Balsa wondered how the other Sadan Taram she’d met before were doing now. She and Jiguro had traveled with more than a dozen. But she didn’t ask, because asking would make her more likely to stay, and she really was trying not to get hired on as their guard.
It was true that Balsa wanted to stay with Tanda, but that wasn’t the only reason she didn’t want to travel with the Sadan Taram again. She was afraid that if she did, she’d remember the past. She didn’t want to remember herself as she’d been at sixteen.
Gamal opened his eyes. Balsa thought that he’d been sleeping. His breaths came out as painful gasps, but his eyes were alert. He’d probably heard most of the conversation. “Balsa,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll pay you whatever you want. Please help us.”
Balsa looked at him, and for a brief moment she saw the face of the eighteen-year-old young man she’d met so many years ago.
Gamal shifted his gaze to Sansa and said, “I want to talk to Balsa alone.”
Sansa nodded and made a gesture that caused the other Sadan Taram to move around her. “The merchants should be done bathing in the hot springs soon. We’ll bring back hot water for you.”
Sansa and the other women left Balsa and Gamal to talk. The young woman called the Conductor glanced back at Gamal apprehensively, but she, too, left.
Tanda got up, too, and said, “I think I’ll take a turn in the hot spring. You and Gamal can have a nice long talk.”
“Thanks,” Balsa said.
The room felt far emptier with everyone gone, and the sound of Gamal’s tortured breathing was so severe that it forbade speech. He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to suppress his pain, then gritted out, “We are… fewer, than we once were. Five years ago, a terrible plague came and swept through the Sadan Taram like wildfire. The Tahsa people are responsible for laying our people’s souls to rest, but they were also affected by the terrible plague. Too many died for them to keep up, including their own.” He shuddered. “We few who are left are all that much more precious because of our loss. Please help us, Balsa.”
Gamal’s eyes were fever-bright, almost crazed. His pupils were abnormally large. “Our last hope, we placed in Eona. She bears the water harp, the shata--our most sacred instrument. She is the Conductor--the woman you just met.”
Gamal didn’t speak for a while. He stretched out on his back, still struggling for breath. “Her full name is Eona, daughter of Sari. She is nineteen.”
Balsa’s heart beat faster. She looked into Gamal’s eyes with a severe expression. Something in Eona’s face was familiar to her. Balsa had known Sari, her mother, but she didn’t think the resemblance was just that. Her features were straight with hard edges, like they’d been carved by a chisel. Her skin was a shade darker than the other Sadan Taram and had a different, softer sheen. The fire in her brown eyes could be caused by desperation, but it was possible that it had always been there, as part of her--a burning desire to succeed.
Balsa saw Eona’s mother in her… but people had two parents. “I knew she was Sari’s kid just by looking at her. Who’s her father?”
Gamal blinked. “The Sadan Taram have no fathers. All of us raise our children like they’re our own. You know that.”
Balsa didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she shook her head. “You need help, fine. You win this time, Gamal: I’ll help you. You have yourself a guard, but not for free. I’ll charge you half my usual rate. For the rest, I expect you to pay me in information.”
Gamal appeared puzzled, but he accepted Balsa’s terms. He lay back on his bed, red-faced and sweating, and closed his eyes.
***
After Sansa and the other women came back carrying hot water, Balsa left Gamal in their care. It was early evening; several merchants passed her by as she walked down the inn’s hallway. She smelled something tasty being made in the kitchens and felt her stomach growl.
The inn was a fairly small one and the walls were thin, so Balsa could hear people laughing and talking as she walked. She didn’t run into anyone on her way to the back door, which led to the hot spring.
The hot spring was out in the open and not covered by the inn’s roof. Plumes of white steam from the spring rose into the darkening sky. The moon was less than half-full, so Balsa could barely see a few feet in front of her.
There was a set order that people were supposed to use to enter the spring, though that order was only lightly enforced. Local warriors and merchants were permitted to use the spring first, followed by traveling merchants and visitors from other cities. Traveling musicians like the Sadan Taram were last in line.
Balsa shifted the screen in front of the hot spring a little to the side, then looked up at all the glittering stars. Tanda approached her, though it was hard to make out his face in the darkness.
“The water even smells wonderful,” Tanda said. “The river deposits rich silt all along this valley. Even from here, I can feel how nourishing it is.”
Tanda took a few steps closer to Balsa. “So? Did you decide to accept the job?”
Balsa nodded. She hadn’t intended to accept this job, so she felt like she owed Tanda an explanation. Any explanation she gave would be a long one, so she decided to get comfortable first. She shrugged out of her clothes and set them to the side of the hot spring. Tanda joined her, and she leaned on his shoulder as they eased into the warm water and looked up at the sky.
Tanda listened patiently as Balsa told him a brief version of her shared past with the Sadan Taram. His expression betrayed surprise, but he didn’t ask her anything, letting her speak until she was done. His expression shifted from surprise to profound understanding.
“I see. I never knew about all that,” he said.
Balsa offered him a bitter smile. “Well, I would prefer if you could remain in ignorance, but it doesn’t seem like that’s an option anymore.” She sighed. “The idea of traveling with them again... it feels like a heavy weight I have to carry. And I don’t want to. The person I was when I was sixteen... well, I don’t like her very much.” She wrinkled her nose. “I had about as much self-control as an untrained foal.”
Tanda laughed, but he didn’t say anything. He’d known Balsa for most of her life. If he wanted to correct her own assessment of herself, he could, but there was no point. That didn’t mean Tanda thought Balsa should judge herself harshly.
After a pause, Tanda said, “You know, you were just learning how to kill people in those days. You always said back then that it didn’t bother you, but I always knew it did. It still does. I don’t think you ever get used to murder, no matter how much you do it or how long you live. It leaves a mark on your spirit.”
Balsa looked up at the stars.
“I don’t think you need to worry about this job too much,” Tanda said. “You’re not the same person you were then. You’re strong enough to carry anything, even the weight of painful memories.”
A muscle in Balsa’s jaw tightened. Tanda knew more about what she was worried about now, but he still didn’t know everything. There were some things that she didn’t know how to share.
The night wind swept through the trees surrounding the spring, seeming loud in the stillness.
“What will happen to Gamal?” Tanda asked.
“He has to stay here until he recovers. Then he should be able to make his way back to a Sadan Taram camp. What will you do?”
“I don’t think Gamal will be able to travel far on foot for a while,” Tanda said. “I’ll hire a boat and drop him off. Then I’ll probably go home.” He chuckled. “I’m kind of looking forward to the journey. I haven’t seen much of Rota beyond the Herb Market.”
Tanda’s master, Torogai, was a magic weaver who had a hut in the Misty Blue Mountains in New Yogo. He’d traveled all over New Yogo with her to learn magic weaving and gather medicinal plants, but he’d never traveled beyond the Herb Market in Rota. There were good reasons for this; Tanda was the only herbalist for miles around the capital, and people often sent for him for help. He couldn’t stray too far from home for very long.
Life and death lie along the flow of time. Existence inevitably moves to nonexistence. The only thing all living beings have in common is suffering.
Tanda remembered Torogai’s words to steady himself whenever he remembered a patient he lost to disease or gangrene. Tanda gave his patients his all, but no one could save every patient. Helping Gamal was important to him, and he couldn’t do that adequately on the road.
“When are you leaving?” Tanda asked.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Tanda and Balsa talked for a while longer in the dark.
“When are you coming home?” Tanda asked.
Balsa didn’t give him an answer. Her work as a guard was dangerous. There was never any guarantee that she would return to the hut in the Misty Blue Mountains alive. She tried not to interpret the pain of parting in her heart as an ill omen.
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