Guardian of the Darkness

by Nahoko Uehashi

  The owners of the surrounding shops and even their customers were straining to hear their conversation. Balsa gave up any idea of being discreet and decided to supply just enough information to satisfy their curiosity.

  “I came from New Yogo. I was born in Kanbal, but my foster father took me to Yogo when I was young, and that’s where I grew up. He committed a crime in Yogo, so I decided to come back here to do penance…. But please don’t ask me any more than that.”

  The shopkeeper waved his hand in front of his face hastily. “Ah, no, I wasn’t meaning to pry! It’s just that the mark on your spear there is like the chieftain’s, and I was wondering how you might be related, considering that you’re dressed like an outlander and all.”

  Balsa felt her pulse race. Oh, blast! It had never occurred to her that people could tell at a glance where she came from, just from the pattern on her spear. She feigned polite surprise. “Really? I didn’t know there was another clan with a similar mark. Well, that’s certainly interesting. But this spear is a memento of my father, and I don’t think he belonged to the Musa clan….”

  “Is that so? Well then, I guess you’re right. There must be other clans with the same design. But there I go prying … That outfit with the boots is fifty nal. I’ll throw in the belt for free because you’re doing penance, like.”

  Balsa took out some coins. “Do you take Yogo currency?”

  “I sure do. Yogo merchants come to buy furs around this time of year. One piece of Yogo silver is worth a hundred nal.”

  The woman who owned the stall across the street yelled, “Hey there! Don’t let him cheat you just ’cause you’re doing penance, you hear? That should be a hundred and ten nal.” The customers burst out laughing.

  “I wasn’t going to cheat her,” the first shopkeeper retorted. “I just meant that that’s the exchange rate for Yogo merchants in my shop!” He winked at Balsa. “So how about it? While you’re at it, why not buy that wool cloak? I’ll give you the lot for one piece of Yogo silver. If you’ve been gone a while, you might have forgotten, but the winters here come early, and the cold is enough to freeze the marrow in your very bones. This kahl, though, it’s woven from Kanbal goat’s wool. The natural oils in it keep off the rain and the bugs too.”

  Balsa smiled and said she would take it. She was richer than she had ever been in her life at the moment, thanks to her last job protecting a prince in New Yogo. His mother, the queen, had paid her enough to live comfortably for the next ten years. Although she had left most of the money in New Yogo with her old friend Tanda, she had brought enough to last her for at least a year.

  “In return, though, would you exchange another silver piece for me?” she asked. “A hundred nal will do.”

  “Hang on. I’ll have to see if I have enough.” He rose and opened the box on which he had been sitting. He counted the money inside and exchanged the silver coin for copper nal.

  “Thank you. There’s one last thing I’d like to ask you.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Can you tell me how to get to Yonsa territory?”

  The shopkeeper went to the back of the stall and brought out a sheet of thin leather. “This here’s a map for traveling merchants. I’ll let you have it for half a nal.” Although very rough, it showed the major roads leading to the capital and all ten territories in Kanbal, and Balsa was grateful for it.

  She paid the money and left the shop. She had not walked far when a delicious smell wafted through the air — deep-fried losso, a thin dough of grated gasha potato kneaded with plenty of la, or goat’s butter, and stuffed with various ingredients. The savory smell made her stomach constrict with hunger. She bought a losso sweetened with yukka juice and another stuffed with goat’s cheese and minced meat, as well as some lakalle, a drink brewed from fermented goat’s milk, then sat down on a bench near a group of merchants who had already started on an early lunch. As she bit through the crisp outer crust of the losso, the taste of melted goat’s cheese filled her mouth.

  She looked up at the sky, pale blue and distant. Far above an eagle wheeled. She took a sip of lakalle, which was very refreshing in this dry climate. I’ll borrow a horse from a stable in Sula Lassal and leave today for Yonsa, she thought.

  She belonged to the Yonsa clan, but returning to her native village did not mean that any family would be there. Her mother had died when she was five, and she had no memory of her grandparents. The only person she remembered was Aunt Yuka, her father’s younger sister. She had a vague image of her as a tall woman who came to visit after her mother died, bringing over hot meals or sweets. But from what Jiguro had said, she sounded like a remarkable person.

  Balsa’s father, Karuna, had been known at school for his keen intelligence and dexterity rather than for his combat skills. When he turned sixteen, he had decided to pursue higher studies in the capital and become a doctor. Yuka, who was even smarter, asked to follow the same path, and the chieftain gave her permission, probably because he recognized that she would be of more value to the clan as a doctor than as a housewife. When they completed their studies, Karuna stayed in the capital as the king’s physician, while Yuka returned to practice medicine in Yonsa territory. Balsa intended to seek her out first to find out what had happened since her father’s death.

  The folds in the Yusa range marked the clan boundaries of Kanbal. Each clan numbered about five thousand people, who grazed goats on the rocky stretches beneath the mountain peaks and farmed the plateaus above the forested slopes. Clan settlements of about fifty families each lay scattered along these plateaus, surrounded by low stone walls. Major roads ran through the valleys where the markets were located.

  From a stable in Sula Lassal, Balsa rented a shaggy, short-legged horse that looked hardy enough to weather the cold winter. After riding some distance, she found a spring in the woods where she bathed and changed into the clothes she had bought. They were stiff and heavy compared to the clothing worn in Yogo, but also much warmer, particularly the cloak. The cold had kept her awake most of last night: Tonight she should sleep very well.

  She reached the border between Yonsa and Musa before nightfall. It was marked by two crude stone forts on either side of the road at the top of the mountain pass. Relations between the two clans were good, and the guards merely watched travelers pass through while they grazed their goats. They gave Balsa directions to the nearest inn, and that night she slept indoors for the first time in a long while. Used to wrapping herself up in a shiruya and sleeping on the floor by the hearth like the Yogoese, she found it strange to lie in a rough wooden bed against the wall under a heap of musty-smelling straw. She smiled to herself. My birthplace feels like a foreign country to me.

  The next morning, she ate breakfast at the inn and then set out to find her aunt, who appeared to be well-known. The innkeeper told her that Yuka ran a house of healing in the valley near the chieftain’s village, about an hour’s journey from the inn. On the way, Balsa saw women harvesting gasha from the thin dry soil in small plots shored up by stone retaining walls. Once again she was struck by the poverty of her native land.

  High up on the rock-covered slopes she could see little specks that must be goats, tended by the Herder People. Eagles soared overhead, looking for dead goats or their stray offspring. And towering over all loomed shining white peaks that brushed the heavens.

  Balsa’s lips stung, chapped by the strong, dry wind. She rode over a low hill and looked down into a wide, gently sloping valley. She could see the chieftain’s hall perched on a rise to the north and, in the foreground, a market about the size of Sula Lassal. Set apart from both of these was a group of buildings surrounded by a low stone wall. That, she realized, must be her aunt’s house of healing.

  As she drew nearer, Balsa began to feel like she had seen this place before. Perhaps her father had brought her when she was very small. When she saw a branch of a yukka tree overhanging a black stone wall, she was suddenly sure of it. The tree was laden with red fruit,
and birds flitted from branch to branch, chirping merrily. The sweet smell of ripe yukka drifted toward her on the wind. She dismounted and was gazing absently up at the branches when someone moved on the other side of the wooden gate. A short elderly man with a rake in his hand stood staring at her.

  “Is this the house of healing?” Balsa asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, it is. Are you ill?”

  “No, I’m not a patient. I’d like to meet Mistress Yuka.”

  He looked doubtfully at Balsa’s spear, as if unsure what to make of her, but at that moment, a plump, sturdy woman of about fifty appeared at the gate. Her salt-and-pepper hair was tied back, and she wore a soft woollen robe. Balsa instantly recognized her black brows, firm chin, and dark brown eyes.

  “I’m Yuka Yonsa. Did you wish to see me?” the woman said calmly.

  Balsa’s heart began to pound. All thought of caution vanished when she saw her aunt’s face. “Aunt Yuka, it’s me, Balsa. Karuna’s daughter.”

  The woman looked at her strangely, as if she had difficulty understanding what Balsa said. Then her face grew stern, and she spoke quietly but forcefully. “Who are you, and why do you use my niece’s name?”

  Yuka had last seen Balsa when she was six. She could not be expected to find that child in the face of a woman already turned thirty. Balsa looked her straight in the eye and spoke equally calmly and deliberately. “I’m not using anyone else’s name. I am Balsa.”

  Her aunt’s eyes wavered. “But that’s impossible! Balsa died when she was only six years old.”

  Balsa felt as if she had been punched in the chest. She had expected something like this, but hearing the words from her aunt’s mouth still hurt.

  “Did you see her body?” she asked gently.

  Her aunt grew visibly paler. “No, how could I? She fell into an artesian well. She was swept away underground and —”

  “Aunt Yuka,” Balsa interrupted her abruptly, “you see the branch on this yukka tree? I don’t know how old I was, but I remember falling from it and breaking my arm.”

  Her aunt’s face turned chalk white, and her lips trembled. She pressed them together and looked searchingly into Balsa’s face. With a shaking hand, she brushed back her hair. “Lusula, Goddess of Dreams,” she murmured. “Is this a waking nightmare?”

  After much debate, Kassa and Gina finally decided to tell their parents about the stone. If they had just gone to the caves to test their courage, they could have kept silent as long as their absence went unnoticed. But luisha was another matter. A piece no bigger than a fingertip could buy enough grain to feed an entire clan for half a year. It was too big a secret for them to handle on their own.

  They decided to wait until morning, as waking everyone up in the middle of the night would only make things worse. When they reached home, Kassa climbed up the rope first, then pulled Gina up after him because of her injured foot. They both slept little, nodding off only to start awake again, and greeted the dawn with relief. While they dreaded confessing to their parents, it was, as Gina said, better to get it over with.

  When Gina came limping into the living room, her mother immediately noticed something was wrong. “What happened to your foot?” she demanded.

  Gina glanced at Kassa. He turned to his father, who was about to leave for work. “Father, please wait. There’s something we have to tell you.”

  When he began explaining their escapade, his mother looked stunned. “How could you be so stupid?” she cried, cutting him off. “You could have died!” She grabbed Gina by the shoulders, hugged her fiercely, and then smacked her smartly on the bottom.

  “Leena, calm down,” their father, Tonno, said, soothing her. He turned back to Kassa. “Go on. Tell us what happened next. You said that the hyohlu, the Guardian of the Darkness, bent over Gina?”

  “Yes, and when I threw the torch at him, he ran away and …”

  Tonno’s eyes grew stern. Kassa’s voice trailed away under his glare. “Kassa, do you really intend to lie to me?”

  He turned to Gina for help but she just stood there looking deathly pale. They had promised to keep their encounter with the woman a secret, but Kassa could not lie to his father. The tale he and Gina had thought up last night sounded false even to his own ears. Finally he blurted out, “Well, no … We were actually rescued by a traveler on a journey of penance.” The true story poured out of him. Tonno listened doubtfully, but when Gina pulled out the luisha and handed it to him, the blood drained from his face.

  The stone’s mystic beauty remained unchanged even in the light of day, glowing blue like the water at the bottom of a deep spring. The stone shone from Tonno’s trembling hands, illuminating his face. Kassa’s mother and grandmother caught their breath, mesmerized by the shining gem.

  Gina broke the silence. “Father, does this mean we’ll be rich?”

  The adults glanced at each other for a second, then Tonno slowly shook his head. “Gina, luisha belongs to the king of Kanbal. You learned that at school, didn’t you? It’s not for people like us.”

  “But we risked our lives to get it! Can’t we sell it secretly? To some foreign trader or something? Then you wouldn’t have to go away to work in winter, and we could eat three meals a day all year round….”

  No one spoke. Even the adults, who knew full well that Gina’s suggestion was impossible, could not help imagining what it would be like to sell the stone and make a fortune. Then Gina’s mother sighed and shook her by the shoulder. “That’s a foolish, shameful idea, Gina. Even if it could be done, it wouldn’t make us happy. Just think about it. How would we explain our sudden good fortune to the rest of our clan? Even if they believed our lies, would you feel good about deceiving your own people and keeping such riches for yourself?”

  Her words seemed to hang in the air, but their bitter reality was as heavy as stone. Tonno shook his head. “At any rate, this is too important to keep secret. We must take the luisha and consult Chief Kaguro. Kassa, wait for me after school. You must come with me and tell the chieftain what happened.”

  Kassa shuddered. He was afraid of the clan leader, a stern, forbidding old man who had lost his right eye and arm hunting a wolf one winter. “But Father, we promised we wouldn’t tell anyone about the woman. She’s doing penance.”

  “I have my doubts about that, and that’s another reason I think we should tell the chieftain. Where did she come from? The darkness? And she led you out of the caves without once losing her way? Can’t you see what that means? Only the King’s Spears, like Master Yuguro, should be able to do that. If she knows the caves in Musa territory that well, she may be a threat to our clan.”

  Kassa felt a chill creep over him. “But she saved our lives!” Gina exclaimed. “We can’t break our promise to her.”

  “Calm down,” Tonno replied. “I’m not saying that we’ll do anything to harm her. But think carefully. What if she’s involved in some kind of plot against the Musa?”

  “Then she would have killed us both in the cave!” Gina retorted.

  Well done, Gina, Kassa thought.

  Tonno was momentarily at a loss, then he sighed. “I can’t remain silent about something that could endanger our clan. If she really was doing penance, then she won’t come to any harm just because people know that she saved your lives. And if she lied to you, then telling the truth isn’t betrayal.”

  Not even Gina could argue with that.

  “Listen, I for one am very grateful to her. Even if it turns out that she is plotting against the clan, I’ll stand by her to the end. Now are you satisfied?”

  The two children nodded. They finished their breakfast without really noticing what they ate. As they left the house for school, Kassa suddenly realized that their parents had forgotten to scold them for entering the caves. The luisha had driven all that from their minds.

  Little did he dream that, in the end, he would endure much worse than a scolding from his father.

  Kassa had sparring practice that day. He took his spear
down from the rack on the wall inside the school. Although its lethal point was sheathed and everyone wore neck guards of thick leather, it was far more exciting to practice with real spears than with plain wooden staffs, as the younger boys did.

  Kassa clearly remembered the first time the sheathed tip of an opponent’s spear had swung toward his neck: A shiver had shot from his throat to his stomach as he imagined, all too vividly, the point piercing his windpipe. Death had never felt so close.

  He stepped out of the darkness of the school building into the blinding sunshine, thin and autumnal despite its brilliance. “We’ll have a practice tournament today,” Muruzo announced. A big man of almost forty with broad shoulders and a loud voice, he was responsible for training the young men in the village. If any boy froze in his first encounter with a spear-wielding opponent, one gruff bellow from Muruzo was enough to break the spell.

  There were eight fifteen-year-olds, including Kassa, and twelve sixteen-year-olds, including Shisheem. They broke into two teams of evenly mixed ages and lined up facing each other in two rows. Their shrill shouts echoed in the large outdoor sparring grounds.

  Kassa liked spear fighting. An opponent with a long reach had the advantage when fighting with daggers, and Kassa, who was not as tall as his peers, always ended up frustrated because he could not get under his opponent’s guard. With the spear, however, height and reach did not matter as long as one had skill. In fact, Kassa’s nimbleness could give him an advantage over someone taller, as longer arms slowed down one’s swing. Moving with a speed that bemused his opponents, Kassa felt like he was dancing in space. He won his first three matches and, in the fourth, came up against Shisheem. Looking up at the older boy, he remembered what Gina had said about him the previous night.

  Shisheem smiled loftily. His confidence was justified, for he surpassed all his friends with the spear. He was, after all, the son of Yuguro, the chieftain’s younger brother and one of the nine Spears. But few boys liked sparring with him, because he enjoyed toying with weaker opponents and defeating them in a flashy display of skill. Kassa especially disliked it because Shisheem always seemed to shove their difference in rank in his face. Today, however, Kassa felt strangely composed. From the moment they faced each other, he felt his mind grow calm and focused. The noises around him faded into nothingness.