Where the Wind Takes Us
Part 3 - The Wind's Direction
Chapter 8 - Daybreak
Most of the Sadan Taram slept in the same room with Sari that night. Balsa opened her eyes to find Kii snoring and most of the others asleep. Eona, too, was still sleeping.
Balsa remembered everything Eona had said the previous evening. Though young, she had a firm grasp on how others thought and felt.
I don’t know if she’s Jiguro’s daughter or not, but she could be.
Before Balsa had left the Herb Market with the Sadan Taram, Gamal had told her that he thought Sari missed Jiguro, sometimes. “She was calm enough when they parted, but I caught her sighing on the way home. And I don’t think she ever quite forgot him.”
Balsa remembered watching Jiguro and Sari walk off together in the night and shook her head. Sari and the Sadan Taram were another job. After Jiguro made sure they were all safe and got paid, he left, just like Balsa had hoped he would. Neither one of them was suited to be a Sadan Taram full-time.
Balsa didn’t know if Jiguro missed Sari. He’d started drinking a little more often after the job. Not a lot. He sang when he got drunk, just like Balsa did, but always the same song.
Looking away from Eona’s sleeping form, Balsa thought about Sari. She was a lot older now, and Eona and the Sadan Taram had told her that Sari was suffering from some illness. She might not look the same anymore. Balsa might not even recognize her.
Suddenly, Eona coughed and sat up.
“Are you all right?” Balsa asked.
Eona nodded. Balsa poured her a cup of water and brought it to her.
“Thanks,” Eona said hoarsely. She gripped the cup in both hands, then drank. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”
“No, I’ve been up for a while.”
It was still dark outside the room’s windows. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour yet.
Eona blinked crust out of her eyes. “I had... so many dreams.”
“Nightmares?” Balsa asked.
“I’m not sure... Not all nightmares.” She sighed. “I’m worried about what to do next. All of my dreams were about that.”
Eona glanced sidelong at Balsa, looking nervous. “Can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course you can.”
“Will you promise not to tell Kii or Sansa?” She cast her eyes down. At Balsa’s nod, she said, “I know what I said last night--that I wouldn’t perform the ceremony in the Valley of the Forest King. But I think I might have made the wrong choice.” She tripped over her words a little.
“But, I mean...” Eona took a deep breath, coughed again, then steadied herself. “If the Aru clan ceases to be, then there’s no meaning to the Sadan Taram coming here anyway. But I feel bad about leaving Larago’s spirit here, when he hasn’t been put to rest. I feel terrible that I can’t give Rumina and Kumu closure and a greater understanding of their parents’ secret.”
Eona’s face clouded over. “What if I do go back again? Just this once? Rumina and Kumu have already decided not to use the bones. If they swear their retainers to secrecy, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You’ll almost certainly be attacked again,” Balsa said. “I doubt Lord Azal and the Magua clan have forgotten the potential threat you pose to them.”
“That’s true.” Eona shook her head sadly. “It seems so easy to start a war, and so hard to end one. Some memories are like embers. The hold the fire longer than everything else.” She sighed. “I wonder if I’ll ever have to open the way again. But even if I do, I won’t perform the ceremony. That’s something I chose, but... was it the right choice?”
Eona covered her face with her hands. “I have no confidence in myself.” Her voice shook. “What if I don’t have the right to make a choice like that?”
“Of course you do,” Balsa said. “Sari chose not to perform the ceremony there, either, after Lord Shisal and Lady Oria put Larago’s bones in that box.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes. She said she would never perform it again, so that her life wouldn’t be targeted anymore. She wasn’t afraid of dying--she was afraid of Jiguro or me dying to save her. That’s why she gave up doing it, after that.”
“I wish I could talk to my mother...”
Balsa thought Eona looked very young in that moment: very young and very insecure.
I wish I could talk to Jiguro again, Balsa thought. She hadn’t felt the loss of him so strongly in a very long time. What would she say if she could speak to him now? Would she ask questions? Talk about old times? Would they go off and try to find work together, like always?
But Balsa would never see Jiguro again, and thinking about the possibility only caused her pain. She looked at Eona, who was wiping tears from her face, and said, “You might see her soon. And even if you don’t, our lives often wind down paths we don’t expect. Our choices matter, but we can’t tell where they’ll lead us until we’re there.”
Eona nodded. “Did my mother... did she say anything else to you?”
Balsa shook her head, then reached out and set her hand on Eona’s shoulder. “Even if she had, she’s the one you should talk to, not me.
“I hope she’s safe and well,” Eona said. “She was burning up with a fever when we parted.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” Balsa said.
Eona’s forehead creased. “Why?”
“My father’s been dead for many years, but sometimes--when I need to--I still hear his voice. If something has happened to Sari, she’ll still be able to reach you.”
“I don’t understand.”
Balsa smiled. “Well... My dad taught me a lot of things while he was alive, and those lessons return to me in some form or another. As I get older, I realize that some of the things I didn’t understand as a kid were lessons, too. Even though he’s dead, everything he taught me remains in me. He’s never stopped trying to save my life, even though he’s gone.”
Eona’s cup was empty. Balsa took it and poured out more water for her.
“I don’t think anyone--any parent--lives long enough to teach everything they know to their children," Balsa said. "But I think, if they can, that they teach us enough to figure out the rest on our own. And that’s not a bad thing. I think it’s always worked that way. Someday, I’ll die too, and I’m sure I’ll leave plenty of things unsaid that I simply forgot to pass on. But it doesn’t make me sad.” She handed Eona the cup again.
“No.” Eona nodded shallowly. “Not sad. There’s no way to perfectly transmit all of the knowledge of one person’s life into someone else. As we age and die, the young rise up in our places. Cyclical, like seasons.”
“Sure.” Balsa looked around the world. “The young lord and lady I met the last time I was here are dead now. My father is dead--both of them are. And now we’re here, their children and descendants, talking about them. Things always work out that way in the end.”
Birds chirped outside. A sliver of early morning sunlight peeked over the horizon.
“Lady Oria and Lord Shisal died too young,” Eona said. “I can’t even imagine all the things they still wanted to say to their children. What they wanted to tell them. Rumina should have gotten a chance to ask them the questions she has now. They wouldn’t want the Aru clan to be dissolved into another.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Balsa said. “The world changes quickly sometimes--all at once. And sometimes it doesn’t change at all. I think that, as parents, what they would want is for their children to be safe and happy, no matter what their clan name was.”
Eona nodded. “You may be right. When Lady Oria was here, she did her best to keep up the estate and make things brighter. She had flowers planted and wanted to fix the roads, the old outbuildings--so many things. Kii told me that the estate was a much more cheerful place when Lady Oria was alive. She would certainly want that for her children.”
Smiling feebly, Eona said. “My mother and Lady Oria were great friends. They would stay up all night talking to one another sometimes. I played with Rumina when we were both younger. Lady Oria wanted to revive the tradition of the Hanma Festival. She called me, Rumina and Kumu her darling Tol Asa children.”
Balsa smiled. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it, if the peace Larago wanted ever actually turned real. But that won’t happen as long as the secret gets kept, and telling it to King Ihan is too dangerous for everyone. It’s a shame, the possibilities that get lost.”
“Lost...” Eona trailed off. “But what if they didn’t have to be lost?”
Kii stirred and got up. “Conductor? Are you all right? How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” Eona said. “I’d like to talk to Rumina and Kumu about something, when they’re free. Can you ask them to visit me after breakfast?”
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