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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