The Beast Warrior Page 2

  But the revulsion with which the people of the Yojeh’s territory had greeted the marriage was far greater than Shunan had anticipated. Viewing the increase in the Aluhan’s authority as a threat, the nobles took issue with his policies at every turn and sought to restore the Yojeh’s control over him. People whispered that the Aluhan had angered the god by defiling the Yojeh. They claimed that this was the cause of successive crop failures and the epidemic that had spread from Aluhan territory throughout the kingdom, taking many lives. It was the threat of foreign invasion, however, that shook the kingdom most. The horse riders of Lahza had stepped up their attacks on the caravan cities that were governed by Lyoza, and Elin had heard that the lives of many warriors had been lost in these skirmishes. Shunan and Seimiya shouldered the burden of all these things.

  The silence in the room was so profound that Elin could hear the wings of the birds that flitted in the treetops. Shunan’s voice barely disturbed the quiet. “If I had asked you to come when I was still at the palace, it would have been a little closer for you, but I needed to talk about this here. You stayed at the Silver Branch last night. Did you sleep well?”

  Elin had barely slept at all, but it wouldn’t do to say so. “Yes,” she replied. “Thank you for arranging such luxurious accommodation.”

  Shunan smiled reassuringly, as if he sensed the uneasiness beneath her words. “You must be thinking that I summoned you about the Royal Beasts, but I didn’t. To tell you the truth, I still don’t know what we should do about them, although I do know we’ll have to address that issue soon.”

  Elin blinked. He didn’t call me here about the Royal Beasts? The rod of tension inside her loosened, and her shoulders relaxed. Although she knew the decision was merely being deferred to a later date, she was glad that at least for a little longer, things would stay the same for Leelan and the others.

  But if this isn’t about the Royal Beasts, why would he wish to speak with me when he’s so busy?

  As if he could read her thoughts, Shunan said quietly, “I summoned you because I received a report that all the Kiba in the village of Tokala were wiped out.”

  As the meaning of his words penetrated her mind, Elin froze. She felt as if a hand had reached out from the past to seize her heart. Her face paled, and Shunan looked at her with pity in his eyes. “Your mother was blamed for the loss of the Kiba and sentenced to death, wasn’t she?”

  Elin opened her mouth, but couldn’t find her voice. Swallowing to moisten her throat, she answered hoarsely, “Yes, that is correct.”

  Shunan gave a short nod. “The records show that the Kiba were wiped out in a single night, which is exactly what happened this time. They were quite healthy the day before, swimming around as usual, but by dawn, every single one was dead.”

  Elin’s eyebrows drew together. She remembered that after her grandfather had cursed Sohyon for letting all the Kiba die, her mother had told her not to worry—because it had happened before.

  Elin looked up. “Does this kind of thing occur very often?” she asked.

  Shunan’s mouth crooked. “If it did, our army would be rendered impotent in no time.”

  Elin blushed. “I see. Pardon me for asking such a foolish question.”

  Shunan shook his head. “No, it’s not foolish. That’s actually an important point.” He turned to the tall man who had accompanied him into the room. “Yohalu, please give me those.”

  The man handed him a sheaf of papers.

  “Here, Elin,” said Shunan. “Read these.”

  There were holes along the right edge of the pages as if they had been taken from a book. They were all written in the same format, and most were yellowed and brittle with age. Elin stiffened when she saw the title on the first sheet.

  “Those are from the records preserved by Toda villages in every district,” Shunan continued. “We took only those pages that recorded mass Kiba fatalities.”

  Although Elin heard him, her eyes remained glued to the page. The title read “Concerning Sohyon’s Improper Management of the Kiba in Akeh Village and Her Punishment.” She read the words beneath, then her eyes blurred, and she could no longer see the page. The content was so blunt and simple.

  Despite having been entrusted with the care of the Kiba, the female Toda Steward, Sohyon, failed to maintain water quality in the Pond. As a result, the Kiba died of poisoning. She was strictly punished to prevent this from happening again.

  That was all. Nothing in those words conveyed the brutality of her punishment, the way she had been thrown into a swamp to be devoured by wild Toda, or her grief at orphaning her young daughter.

  Closing her eyes, Elin bowed her head and took a slow breath.

  “The inspector who sentenced your mother died long ago.” Elin raised her head at the sound of Shunan’s voice. “But what he did was inhumane. The maximum sentence for someone who lets the Kiba die is the loss of their right arm. To feed her to the Toda was a gross injustice. We’ve never monitored the judgments of inspectors in each district, so in some ways perhaps I am responsible for your mother’s death. I intend to review whether inspectors should be allowed to pass a death sentence.”

  Shunan’s red-rimmed eyes and tightly pressed lips revealed his anger at the ignorant cruelty of the officer and his remorse for having let men like him do as they pleased. His expression made him appear so unbearably young that Elin averted her eyes.

  “But I didn’t summon you here to apologize,” he said. He pointed at the documents. “Take a look through the rest. There’s not much time so just skim them. You can read them more thoroughly later.”

  Elin flipped through the papers. There were nineteen pages, all reporting mass Kiba deaths. As she focused on the dates, locations, and numbers, she felt a growing excitement. She sensed that there was some kind of regularity to their deaths. Although the intervals between the incidents varied, making it hard to pin down the correlation, the deaths had occurred in several villages at once. The year Elin’s mother had been killed, all the Kiba in the neighboring village of Yoson had also died.

  She raised her head and looked at Shunan. He nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “These mass fatalities were not the fault of the Toda Stewards. It would be unthinkable for Stewards in multiple villages to make the same mistake at the same time. There must be another cause.”

  Something hot gushed from a point deep in Elin’s chest, and she bit her lip.

  “I want you to find out what it is,” Shunan concluded.

  There was a dull ringing in Elin’s ears.

  Did Mother know?

  The disturbing doubt she had carried in her heart ever since she was a child reared its head again. In her mind’s eye, she saw her mother in the dimly lit Stone Chamber, standing up to her chest in icy water as she gently stroked the dead Kiba. In her face, there was no trace of surprise or bewilderment, while in her eyes, there was only a profound sorrow.

  Another scene floated into view as though pulled by a string, and Elin’s heart began to race—the last time she had seen her mother, when she had played her finger flute to command the Toda and save Elin’s life.

  Her mother’s words came back to her as clearly as if she had just spoken them. “Elin,” she had said. “You must never do what I am going to do now. To do so is to commit a mortal sin.”

  Elin gripped her knees. Mother could control the Toda. She knew things that not even the Stewards knew.

  Of course she did. Because she was an Ahlyo, one of the People of the Mist. As a descendent of the Toga mi Lyo, the Green-Eyed Ones, she had inherited the knowledge they had brought with them from the other side of the Afon Noah, the Mountains of the Gods, where they had once raised Toda as weapons.

  If so, then why? If she knew that the Kiba deaths were not her fault, why didn’t she tell the inspector?

  Elin closed her eyes. She could think of only one reason: because it was taboo. Whatever had killed the Toda must be related to the knowledge the Ahlyo had been forbidden to share, even
if it meant death. Although Sohyon had been banished by her people, the rigid laws of the Ahlyo, designed to prevent another tragedy, had remained firmly rooted in her heart. If the cause of the mass deaths had touched upon those laws, that would have silenced her. Just as the Royal Beast Canon had been designed to conceal the true nature of the Royal Beasts, there must have been some reason for concealing the nature of the Toda.

  Elin stared at her hands, which lay clasped in her lap. This was a turning point. If she continued in this direction, she would open yet another door that should remain shut. Even though she knew this, however, she could not suppress the burning urge that flared inside her. She longed to unravel the mystery of the Kiba deaths, to find out what her mother had given her life for.

  Raising her face, Elin looked at Shunan. “Please send me to Tokala. I will try to determine the cause of the Kiba deaths.”

  2

  THE SECRET OF THE WASHU

  Once the inspector realized Elin had not come to find fault with him, he left without protest, but the Stewards remained. Elin could tell that they were eager to see what she would do. Although they occasionally shuffled their feet or cleared their throats, they made no move to leave. Their stares disconcerted her at first, but she soon became so engrossed in her work that she forgot they were there.

  She inspected the nearest carcass carefully, touching the hard scales that covered it. The slimy membrane had dried, and some of the scales had hardened like resin, but the surface of many seemed blistered. Perhaps some change had occurred in the mucous film that protected them. She moved around to the Toda’s head. Shoving her arm inside its mouth, she pressed against the tongue with her elbow to open the jaws wider. The skin inside was also blistered, as if it had been irritated by a strong medicine.

  She frowned. Could they have had a toxic reaction to the tokujisui because the membrane in their mouths had thinned? Although the Stewards in this village probably wouldn’t have noticed, she found it hard to believe that her mother would have been so careless.

  She paused and stared at the beast. But why would the membrane have thinned? Pursing her lips, she brought her face closer to peer at the scales, only to pause in surprise. Instead of the sweet musk-like odor of Toda slime, the smell reminded her of new grass. A memory from her childhood leaped into her mind. Elin knew this scent; she had smelled it the day she stood beside her mother and stared at the dead Kiba in the water.

  Pressing her palm against forehead, Elin searched her memory. She recalled asking her mother if the way Toda smelled changed when they died. Elin’s mother had jerked around, her eyes boring into Elin as she asked what had made her think that.

  What did I tell her?

  Torches flickering in the dark. Her mother’s shadow wavering each time the light moved. The faint glimmer of washu, glow bugs, swarming around the Kiba corpses that floated like logs in the Pond. When she reached this point in her memory, she snatched her hand away from her forehead.

  Insects! That was it! The swarm of bugs had caught her attention because she had never seen them in the Chambers before. She had thought they might have been attracted by the scent of the dead Kiba.

  And Mother told me … not to tell anyone what I thought!

  She rose and bent over the carcass to peer at the scales, running her eyes over every inch of the Toda’s body until her gaze was drawn to a single point.

  There …

  The body of a small insect lay stuck in the mucous membrane. Although there weren’t many, she found more insects stuck to every carcass. She looked over her shoulder at the Stewards. “Who discovered that the Kiba were dead?” she asked.

  The men shifted, their eyes darting to one another’s faces. A young man stepped forward. He was quite a bit shorter than the others. If he was a Toda Steward, he would have to be at least eighteen, but he only looked fourteen or fifteen, perhaps because of his boyish face.

  “I did. My older brother is responsible for the Kiba’s care, so I always come a little earlier than him in the morning to prepare the food. I was the first to enter their Chamber that morning and…” His face twisted.

  Elin stood up. “Did you notice little insects swarming around the corpses?” she asked.

  The young man’s brow furrowed. “Insects? I think there were some washu, but…” He fell silent for a while, as though searching his memory. Finally, he said, “Yes. There were little bugs flying around. I’m sure of it.”

  “They were probably just attracted to the light of the torches,” a middle-aged Steward interjected.

  The young man shook his head. “No. Although they flew around the torches, too, they were swarming around the bodies of the Kiba. I thought it was because the Kiba had died. Did those bugs have something to do with their deaths?” he asked eagerly.

  Elin shook her head. “I can’t tell yet. But you don’t usually see them around, do you? Not here in the Stone Chambers?”

  All the men agreed except one, who cocked his head. Elin looked at him. “Have you seen these bugs before?”

  Looking a bit flustered, he said, “Yes, but not in the Stone Chambers. I’ve seen them a few times in Ukala Swamp.”

  When he said this, the other men murmured in agreement. “He’s right,” one of them said. “I’ve seen lots of them swarming around Toda in the swamp.”

  “In the swamp? You’re talking about wild Toda, then?” Elin asked.

  He nodded. The Chief Steward, who had said nothing up to this point, frowned. “You’re talking about when they lay eggs, right?” he said. “It’s true that they swarm around wild Toda during egg-laying season. But they never come around Toda raised inside the Chambers. It’s too far from the swamp. And besides, it’s too cold in here.”

  Elin stared at him. She felt a thrill of excitement creeping up inside her, raising goosebumps on her skin. “Egg-laying season … And when is that?”

  “Around this time of year. But I’m talking about wild Toda. The Toda in the Chambers never mate.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Elin murmured. She rubbed her arms as she gazed down at the carcasses. “I wonder what sex the Kiba are.”

  The Chief Steward’s eyebrows rose. “Male, of course. Although I’ve never actually checked.”

  Elin’s eyes widened. “You don’t check their sex?”

  The man gave her a sour look. “No, we don’t. Not unless we want to break the Toda Laws. ‘Never choose which to raise. Whether male or female, Toda are Toda.’ But you’re from Akeh Village. You ought to know that.”

  Elin shook her head. “Well, I don’t. I left when I was ten.”

  The Chief Steward’s face clouded. “Ah, I see. Well, anyway, that’s how it is.”

  Elin glanced at the corpses, then looked at him again. “Would it be all right if I check their sex?” she asked.

  He frowned, but before he could answer, Yohalu, who was standing behind Elin, spoke. “Please feel free to investigate anything you feel is necessary. There is no need to worry about the Laws.”

  She turned to Yohalu in surprise. “The Aluhan instructed me to let you do as you wish,” he told her. “So please, investigate whatever you like.” He turned to the Chief Steward. “You should keep that in mind, too.”

  The Chief Steward pursed his lips, then nodded stiffly. The Toda belonged to the Aluhan, and his word was absolute. But the rules governing Toda care had been imprinted on the Chief Steward’s bones; Elin guessed that it must be repellent to him to see those broken.

  “Chief Steward,” she said. “To determine the cause of death, I am afraid that I will have to break many of the Toda Laws. I will not only need to identify their sex, but also to dissect them and examine the condition of their organs.” The man’s eyes bulged. “As that could be very painful for you and the other Stewards to watch,” she continued, “please feel free to leave. When I’m finished, I promise to report everything I learn.”

  With knitted brows, the man turned to the others. The same disgust was reflected in their faces. An
elderly Steward growled, “I can’t bear to watch her do something so accursed as to slit open the Kiba.”

  The Chief Steward turned back to Elin with a determined look. “We will leave,” he said hoarsely. “You can do as you please once we have gone.”

  Elin bowed. With a curt nod, the man turned on his heel and strode away. The others fell in behind, but the young man who had discovered the dead Kiba stopped after a few steps. “Sir!” he called out. “I … I want to stay behind. May I?”

  The Chief Steward turned to him.

  “I don’t want my brother to be branded a criminal!” the young man said, his voice shrill. “Please let me stay and help.”

  Gazing down at him, the Chief Steward rubbed his chin. “If that’s the case, give her a hand.”

  The young man’s face brightened. He bowed and ran back to where Elin stood.

  With the Stewards gone, the Stone Chamber seemed cold and deserted. “So where shall we start?” the young man asked, his eyes shining. “Should we turn them over?”

  Elin hesitated. As a beast doctor, she was used to dissecting animals, but this was certainly the boy’s first time. When she slit their bellies with her knife and the entrails spilled out, the stench would be overpowering. Even if he steeled himself for it, she wondered if he could stand it. But to ask him would question his resolve.

  Making up her mind, she said, “Yes. I want to check their sex first. Let’s start by rolling this one over to expose its belly. Please give me a hand.”

  The cold, rigid corpse of the Kiba was so heavy that it didn’t budge even when Elin and the young man set their shoulders against it and pushed with all their strength.

  “Here, let me help.” Rolling up his sleeves, Yohalu strolled over and placed his hands on the Kiba’s flank.

  “Careful!” Elin said. “Toda scales have edges as sharp as knives.”

  Yohalu smiled. “Yes, I know that very well. I was a Toda Rider myself, remember? Now, I’ll put my shoulder here so that we’re spread out at equal distances. Are you ready? Let’s push on the count of three.”