Where the Wind Takes Us
Traveling through Rota's fields in summer was fast and easy. The journey by horse would have only taken two or three days, but the Sadan Taram did not use horses, and because they were being pursued, they camped outside and avoided main roads. There was a reason they were called Wind Musicians. When they had to, they could move swiftly and silently as the wind through the grass.
A flame-red bird took to the sky, startled out of a thicket. It had rained last night, but by early morning it had stopped and the sky was now clear. The grassy plain they were traversing was still wet, but the breeze was drying it out by slow degrees, and there was little mud. They came across a flock of sheep grazing; a few young lambs jumped for joy as they chased one another or ran away from their parents in a little game.
“Shahan--that’s the white sheep--love to jump,” Sari said brightly. She looked to Kii. “Do you know the song?”
Kii nodded, then took up her drum and sang:
Shahan, shahan, little white sheep.
All they ever seem to do
Is jump, sleep and eat!
Gamal was guiding their packhorse from behind; Kii edged toward the front as she sang, step by step. Gamal and some of the others tapped out a rhythm with their feet and sang along with Kii.
Gamal noticed that Balsa wasn’t singing. She shrugged at him. She didn’t mind listening to the Sadan Taram sing. She was used to it, but didn’t want to be pressured into singing herself.
After a while, Sari took the lead, clapping with her hands to set a new beat. She sang a song that Kii had sung before; Balsa knew most of the words.
’Love me,’ whispered the little sparrow.
‘May your love lift me, like the wind.’
The sparrow chirps in my ear, too loud,
desiring love.
One day the world will disappear,
but for these too-short summer nights,
let your love lift me, like the wind.
Sari’s voice was sweet and high-pitched like a bird singing in the evening. When the song was done, Sari turned to Jiguro and passed him a hand drum and a set of drumsticks.
Jiguro looked down at the instrument for a few seconds like he had no idea what to do with it. Then, to Balsa’s great surprise, he sang a song as well.
The cold wind blows
over the Yusa Mountains
under the moon.
I go to the peak,
spear in hand,
step by step.
The world is hidden in white,
swept away by an avalanche.
I go to the peak,
spear in hand,
step by step,
with the season’s last flower
held over my heart.
Jiguro wasn’t a singer--not like the Sadan Taram were--but his voice carried. The song was a common one in Kanbal; the laborers who came over the mountains to New Yogo for work often sang it when they were missing their sweethearts. The song made Balsa miss their homeland. There were no mountains here.
Sari and Jiguro were out in front of everyone else. Jiguro handed the drum and drumsticks back to Sari, the summer sunlight bathing his shoulders and hers in a soft glow. They talked a little as they walked. Balsa stayed a few steps behind them, feeling a bit sad and excluded.
***
The Sadan Taram knew of many hidden places in the wilderness to make camp. The next place they stopped was near a hidden hot spring. It wasn’t easy to use--they had to clean out debris that had gathered in the springs and make space for all their belongings--but the effort was worth it for a hot bath.
At night, when it was too dark to see much of anything, the Sadan Taram men and women removed their clothes and got into the hot spring together. It was a beautiful evening: good weather with a washed-clean sky, and the hot water felt wonderful on overheated muscles and irritated skin.
Kii and Sansa always took a long time bathing. Balsa finished, got dressed and decided to return to camp a long time before they did. Balsa decided to check the camp perimeter before going back to her tent; on her way, she noticed a man leaving the hot spring in the middle distance. Judging by his height, it could only be Jiguro.
Balsa heard clapping from the trees. Jiguro walked away from the spring in the direction of the sound. Balsa didn’t move any closer; she assumed that, like her, Jiguro was getting ready to return to camp.
But then she saw another person standing in the trees, approaching Jiguro. It was hard to make out the person’s face in the dark, but as they walked, moonlight illuminated their face.
It was Sari.
Sari turned away and was hidden behind a tree. There was a sound like a plucked string--was that harp music?
“Our Conductor is over there, isn’t she?” Gamal asked. His voice made Balsa jump.
“Uh, I guess so,” she said.
“It’s the last night of summer.” Gamal sighed. “And a beautiful night it is, too.”
A faint prickle of unease made Balsa look away from Gamal. “Is Sari married?” she asked.
“None of the Sadan Taram ever marry,” Gamal said. “If we fall in love with someone and have a child, the child is raised by all of us. That was how the Tol Asa were, so it’s how we are.”
“Hm,” Balsa said. “What if the other parent--the non-Sadan Taram parent--wants to know their kid? Isn’t that a problem?”
Gamal shrugged. “If they care that much, they can travel with us and become a Sadan Taram themselves. There’s not really any other choice to make. But outsiders don’t join our people very often. Think about it. Everyone knows who we are and what we do. Having a kid is a big commitment even if we stood still and had normal employment; following poor wanderers across the countryside doesn’t appeal to most people.”
Gamal came closer to Balsa, leaning against a tree. “Well, I don’t like to lose out to my sister. If I sang you a song and whispered to you of love, would you listen?”
Balsa’s eyes widened. “Sari’s your sister?”
Gamal laughed. “That’s how you treat a proposal like that? Did you even hear me?” When Balsa didn’t say anything, he continued, “Anyway, yeah. Sari and I have the same mother, but different fathers. She’s our leader, and I’m the cook.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “If you wanna know more about her, I could--”
Balsa shook her head and took a step back. “Learn to read the mood, Gamal.” She turned on her heel and walked away.
***
The night was warm enough that the Sadan Taram didn’t need to build fires before bed. By the time Balsa returned to the camp, most of the Sadan Taram were already asleep. Sansa and Kii were brushing out their wet hair and talking quietly.
While there were no cook fires, there was a small fire at the edge of camp burning herbs to keep away mosquitoes. Balsa passed by that fire and took a few steps into the woods. She found a solid, dry tree root and sat down.
Kii came bounding up to her. “Hi, Balsa! Do you want to sleep in our tent tonight?”
Balsa shook her head. “I have to keep watch over the camp. And even if I didn’t, sleeping three to a tent in summer is too hot for me.”
“Nonsense,” Sansa said. She was also coming closer. “It’s not the season for wolf attacks, and there are no people in this trackless wilderness. It’s perfectly safe for you to get some rest tonight.”
Balsa shook her head. “This place might be deserted, or it might not. It’s more dangerous to let your guard down in new places than it is in somewhere familiar and crowded. Keeping watch is what you hired me for. Let me do it and get some sleep.”
Kii and Sansa exchanged glances. “You should really take care of yourself better, Balsa,” Kii said. “You’re always taking care of other people. Don’t you resent it? You shouldn’t live like that. You’re acting...” Kii’s eyes went wide. “Jealous? Is that it? Why?”
Balsa snorted. Kii knew nothing about resentment, or jealously. And jealousy wasn’t what she was feeling. She was angry at Jiguro for losing sight of their mission and work, which was something he’d never done before. And she was worried about what might happen if Jiguro settled down with Sari or something. The possibility didn’t seem likely, but Balsa didn’t enjoy being uncertain about the future.
A while later, Balsa pretended to go fetch herbs and firewood, then set up her bedroll a little distance away from the camp. She hugged her spear to her chest and tried to sleep.
***
Nothing changed between Sari and Jiguro after the night they’d spent together. It was easy for Balsa to pretend that it hadn’t happened at all. The only change to the camp was that Balsa decided to pitch her tent between Sansa and Kii’s from then on. Jiguro had seemed surprised by this sudden change, but after acknowledging it, he shrugged and moved on.
Balsa tried not to treat Sari differently, either. It didn’t matter if Jiguro liked her. She didn’t have to act like a spoiled child who was afraid of their parent being taken away by a stepparent. She didn’t want to act like that, even if it was how she felt sometimes.
Sari was always kind to her. Balsa had no reason to hate her. But she resented her, because Sari was a woman that Jiguro could settle down with, if he wanted. He could make a real family with her, and cast Balsa loose or leave her behind.
That won’t happen. Balsa only half-believed herself. She was tempted to strike out on her own before anyone asked her to. Making a clean break seemed like the best option. When this job was over, Balsa would pull Jiguro aside and ask if he wanted to stay with them. She’d offer to leave, and say that was what was best for both of them. Maybe Jiguro would listen to her.
Balsa considered her own future--and Jiguro’s--as they got on their way that morning. Jiguro walked out in front with his back to her, seeming impossibly far away.
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