“Stay there,” Ialu said. “Don’t go in like that.” Stepping inside, he grabbed a towel and handed it to Jesse. “Here. Dry yourself off first.”
Jesse rubbed his face with the towel, then winced at his father. “My tooth’s loose,” he said.
“Good thing it’s one of your baby teeth,” Ialu said.
Jesse scowled. “That’s not what a father should say. You’re supposed to say things like, ‘Here, let me see.’”
Ialu grinned. “Is that right?”
“Yup. See. It’s wiggling!” Jesse pointed earnestly at his tooth.
The look on his son’s face wrenched Ialu back to a memory of his own tooth breaking from a punch. He remembered how forlorn he’d felt as he gazed helplessly at his teacher, probing the root of the waggling tooth with his tongue and strangling the sobs in his throat. I guess I still had some baby teeth then, too.
Ialu took a deep breath. Shoving aside his memories, he placed a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. His skin was cold to the touch. “Maybe we should go to the bath before we eat.”
Jesse’s face twisted. “Aw! No! I’m so hungry I’m just gonna float away when I get in that pool!”
Ialu gripped Jesse’s shirt collar and raised him up like a puppy, silencing any further protests. The boy was pitifully light. With such scrawny arms, it was no wonder that he walked away from every fight with a bloody nose.
“Put your clothes in a bucket of water to soak while I get you some new ones, will you?” Ialu said gruffly. He left Jesse grumbling behind him and went inside. Once he’d taken a set of clothes from the chest of drawers, there was only one clean set left.
Guess I’ll have to do the laundry tomorrow. It was a bother but he had no choice. I wonder when Elin will be back. The anxiety of not knowing where she was or when she’d be home swelled like a dark cloud, filling his chest.
“Dad! I’m freezing!” Jesse shouted. Stripped down to just a pair of knee-length cotton shorts, he was hopping from one foot to another in the dirt-floored kitchen. With a sigh, Ialu bundled Jesse’s change of clothes in a towel and handed them to him.
* * *
When they reached the bathhouse, it was full of tradesmen. The men stopped by to wash off the grime of a hard day’s work before going home refreshed and ready for a nice hot meal. Jesse took off his shorts clumsily, scowling when the burly men jostled him. He didn’t like this big public bathhouse much. It was always crowded and so dimly lit he couldn’t see people’s faces clearly. Besides, sharing the tub with all these men meant that he couldn’t swim. If he played around even a little, they’d yell at him to be quiet.
When Jesse went with his mother, he was allowed into the women’s bath. He liked it much better, although he’d never admit that to his friends. In the women’s bath, he could play with the younger kids, and nobody scolded him. But best of all was the large bath at Kazalumu School.
He had spent most of his life at the school. As a baby, his mother had carried him on her back while she worked in the Royal Beast stables. The sounds of the Beasts had served as a lullaby. Once he was old enough, he helped the men who worked there and played with the older students, sticking around until his mother was done with her work. When she finished late, they would stop at the school bath on their way home. They got the big pool all to themselves, and his mother would place him on her lap. He would chatter away about everything he’d done that day, and about the Royal Beasts, enjoying the feel of her silky skin. His mother, who was usually too busy to pay attention, would listen patiently. That’s why he liked the bath at Kazalumu the best.
Jesse’s father stripped and stepped into the bath area. Watching him, Jesse sighed. He was about to ask when his mother was coming home, but stopped himself. He couldn’t ask. His father would just look sad and troubled. That look always made Jesse’s stomach tighten and tears sting his eyes.
His face hurt where he’d been punched, and his lip was swollen. His lower back was really sore, too, throbbing with each step he took. That was really why he hadn’t wanted to come. He felt like crying, but shoved his tears back down. Nudging his wobbly tooth with his tongue, Jesse trotted after his father into the dimly lit bath area.
The place where fresh hot water poured into the bath was crowded. He looked around for a space to wash himself, but couldn’t find any. Catching sight of him, his father waved him over. Jesse made his way to his side. His father sat him down between his knees, scooped up a basinful of hot water, and dipped a washcloth into it. “Here,” he said. “Wash yourself with this.”
Jesse dabbed at his body, leaving a wide berth around the places that hurt.
“Hey!” His father gave him a slap on the head.
“Ow!” Jesse scowled.
“That’s no way to wash! You’re filthy. Scrub yourself properly.”
“But it hurts!” Jesse protested. “A little dirt won’t kill me. But if any of that hot water hits my sore spots, I’m gonna jump out of my skin. Then I might slip and fall, which really could kill me.”
His father chuckled. “Honestly! You haven’t lost the gift of gab at least. Give me that.” He took the washcloth from Jesse and began to scrub him down.
“Ow! No! Not there! It hurts!” Jesse twisted away when the washcloth reached his lower back. His father’s hand stopped, and Jesse glanced up to see why. He was peering at a point near Jesse’s waist.
“Someone kicked you here, didn’t they?” he said.
Jesse nodded. That spot hurt the worst. His face felt bruised and sore, too, but the pain in his back was a heavy, jarring ache.
“Who did this?”
“Oguran.”
A stout man sitting beside them turned and said, “Oguran?”
“Do you know him?” Jesse’s father asked.
The man snorted. After glancing around to see who was sitting nearby, he lowered his voice and said, “His father’s a real ruffian, and the boy’s just like him. A good-for-nothing. Doesn’t work, even though he’s already thirteen. Rotten to the core. He picks on my boy, too. Seems like his father’s been teaching him how to fight. When boys get into a scrap with him, they come home with injuries you’d never expect from a kids’ fight.” He flicked his eyes to Jesse. “If you see him, run. He could kill you if he kicks you in the wrong place.” He poured a basinful of water over himself, then stood up and left the room.
Gently, Jesse’s father touched the spot where Jesse had been kicked. “Jesse,” he said. “Right next to this spot is your kidney. It’s dangerous to kick someone there. Don’t fight with anyone who’d do that to you. Do what the man said. If Oguran comes near you again, run.”
Jesse frowned. To be honest, Oguran scared him. The thought of being hit or kicked by him again made him feel like crying. But being told to run made him angry. Looking down at his son’s scowling face, Ialu smiled faintly. When he wore this expression, there was no budging Jesse. That’s just who he was. He talked big but was too little to win any fights. Yet if someone tried to hold him down, he’d rebel. He wouldn’t back down from his convictions for anyone. He would probably mellow when he grew up, but until then, he was going to keep fighting back against people much stronger than him … And he’d keep getting beaten.
“If you don’t want to run away,” Ialu said quietly, “learn how to protect your vital points.”
“How?”
“I’ll show you when we get home.” Although he hadn’t seen the actual fight, Ialu could tell just by looking at Jesse’s body how he’d been hit, and how he’d tried to fight back. Ialu scrubbed him down, keeping an eye out for any cuts and bruises that could become serious later.
This is my son.
For a moment, he felt as if he were dreaming. Although eight years had passed since Jesse was born, this strange feeling still hit him at times. The fact that he had a wife and son made him uneasy, like he was wearing unfamiliar clothes or was in the midst of a forbidden dream from which he might wake up to find Elin and Jesse gone.
Casting off suc
h foolish thoughts, he took a deep breath and slapped Jesse on the bottom. “Right, then. Fetch some water,” he said. He watched his son heave an exaggerated sigh and walk away to fill a basin with hot water.
2
AMBUSH IN THE ALLEYWAY
By the time they reached the lane where their house was, even the faint light of dusk had vanished, and night had cast its mantle over the town. People had closed their doors, perhaps against the evening chill, and the alleyway was sunk in darkness. Light seeping through window lattices and cracks in the doorways cast a faint glow on the shapes in the darkness, but potted plants and drying racks were just black shadows.
As he was about to turn into the lane, Ialu stopped. Jesse looked up, but before he could speak, Ialu clapped a hand over Jesse’s mouth and peered into the darkness. He could feel their presence—one man behind the drying rack, another near the other end of the lane. Their motionless forms merged with the blackness.
A tingling sensation swept over Ialu’s skin, and he frowned. With his hand still clamped over Jesse’s mouth, he picked him up and walked back far enough along the main road that they couldn’t be seen from the lane. Only then did he put Jesse down. Taking some coins from his robe, he handed them to Jesse and said, “Go back to the bath and stay in the changing room until they close. If I haven’t come to get you by then, give this money to the man in charge and ask him to take you to Kazalumu. When you get there, tell the headmistress what happened.”
Jesse looked up at him anxiously, eyes wide. He didn’t ask why, but merely stared at his father with those big eyes.
“Do you understand?” Ialu asked, keeping his voice calm. Jesse nodded. Ialu ruffled the boy’s hair, then pulled away. As Ialu passed a potted plant on the corner, he reached in and pulled out a thin pole used as a climber and stuck it in his belt behind his back. Then he strode off casually and turned into the lane.
* * *
For a moment, Jesse didn’t move. His father no longer seemed to be his father. He had become a stranger the instant he had clapped a hand over Jesse’s mouth, just like in a child’s worst nightmare. Jesse could barely feel his trembling legs, but he forced them to move. He wobbled over to the alleyway entrance and stuck his head around the corner.
Despite the darkness, Jesse could make out the shape of his father walking. He saw him stop in front of the house and reach to open the door. A dark shadow leaped out from behind, waving what looked like a club. In the light spilling from the crack in the doorway, his father crouched and turned, bringing himself up under his attacker. There was a groan, and the assailant staggered. His father smashed his knee into the man’s chin, sending the man slumping to the ground.
There was a muffled sound of footsteps. Someone came hurtling along the alley from the other end. Jesse’s father flung the door open, reached inside, and grabbed the wooden stick with which they barred the door. Then he turned and ran toward the man, meeting him halfway.
There was a muffled scuffling, but the noise was so faint probably none of the neighbors could hear it. No one opened the door to see what was going on.
Shaking, Jesse swallowed. Dad …
The shape that lay sprawled in front of his house didn’t budge. Peering down the lane, Jesse thought he saw a movement in the darkness, but he couldn’t tell what it was or what had happened to his father.
Blood pounded in his veins, as if he had run a long distance. Gulping for air, he stared into the darkness. Dad! Unable to bear the suspense, Jesse stepped forward. His knees wobbled, and he felt as if he were swimming rather than walking. Fear paralyzed his brain, but still he didn’t stop. His legs kept moving as though he were being pulled by an invisible cord. When he reached the house, he saw something sticking up from the inert form. A thin pole. Sprouting from the man’s stomach. The same pole his father had stuck into his belt.
Sobs rose in Jesse’s throat, and his shoulders heaved. The world began to warp and spin around him. He staggered backward, then turned and fled. Somehow he made it to the main street. Shoving his sobs down his throat, he ran without looking back.
* * *
Ialu groaned. A dull pain throbbed in his temple. His ear felt stretched and swollen, and the ground heaved upward. Gritting his teeth, he moved in close to his assailant, dodging the strange weapon that swung toward him.
He’d never seen anything like it. Although it looked like a club, it must have something flexible inside. When Ialu had parried the blow with his stick, the club had curved and hit him in the side of the head. He’d managed to twist aside before it hit the vital point behind his ear, but it was still a powerful blow. If it had hit him straight on, it would have knocked him out cold. His stick had flown from his hands and hit the wall with a clatter.
Damn! That was careless. I must be getting rusty.
Though gasping for breath, Ialu stayed glued to the man, giving him no space to wield his weapon. Then he dropped low and rammed his left fist into the region of the man’s liver. A single crushing blow to that spot could stop a man in his tracks. Although Ialu couldn’t put his full weight behind it, the man groaned and doubled over.
Ialu followed through with a right-hand jab to the man’s solar plexus and swung his right knee into the side of his opponent’s knee. The man staggered. Ducking down, Ialu slipped his arm around the man’s right leg, twisted his body, and flipped him over. The man fell on his back and hit his head with a dull thud against the wall, sprawling motionless on the ground.
His shoulders heaving, Ialu stared down at him. He looked like a complete thug. Even in the dark, Ialu could make out his thick beard and the sloppy way he’d left his robe undone, exposing his chest.
But why?
One in front of his house and the other at the end of the lane to block his escape. Clearly, they’d positioned themselves to attack him. The fact that they had waited until the light from the door had shone on his face before rushing him from behind was further proof. But he couldn’t think of any reason he would be attacked by thugs.
The man was out cold. Ialu slipped the man’s arms from his sleeves and tied the sleeves together to immobilize him, then used the man’s sash to bind his arms above his elbows and his bootlaces to bind his ankles. Once he was tied up, Ialu slung him over his shoulder, took him inside, and laid him in the dirt-floored kitchen. After dragging the second man inside, Ialu closed the door. With a sturdy rope, he tied their hands behind their backs and their ankles together, then gagged them. He left the thin garden pole in the man’s stomach. He had stabbed him in the muscle to avoid injuring his organs, but if he pulled it out, the man would bleed.
Only when he had finished did he go over and scoop water out of an earthenware crock, gulping straight from the ladle. He sighed and gingerly probed the spot where he had been hit. It was quite swollen and painful, and his head was beginning to pound. He winced as he crouched down beside the men and began searching them.
Their clothes were new. He could tell just by the stitching that they must have cost quite a bit. Their daggers were still in their sheaths. He felt a chill run up his spine. The lane in front of his house was narrow. He could see why they would have armed themselves with daggers and not swords, yet they hadn’t drawn them. If they had meant to kill him, they would have tried to stab him from behind. Instead, they had both used those strange clubs.
They intended to take me alive.
He bit his lip. When he had seen them lurking in the darkness, he had assumed that they’d been sent to assassinate him. On Tahai Azeh, Ialu had killed Damiya, the previous Yojeh’s nephew and the man responsible for her death. And he had killed him in front of the new Yojeh Seimiya, who loved and was betrothed to the man.
When he saw the Royal Beast save Shunan, heir to the Aluhan, and bear him back to safety, Ialu had thought, If I’m to kill Damiya, now is my only chance. If he lives, he’ll only do more evil in the future.
But it wasn’t just noble thoughts of the future that had driven him. Without a doubt, he had also
harbored a deep loathing for the man who had killed the wise old Yojeh, and who had mocked and tried to kill Ialu.
Ialu was a shield. His sole purpose in life was to protect the Yojeh. To fulfill this duty, he had taken many lives. If anyone should sully their hands with Damiya’s blood, he had thought, it should be him.
Later he’d heard that the Yojeh despised him not because he had killed Damiya, but because he had seemed to do it with such cold indifference. Regardless of how she might feel, however, he was permitted to remain a Se Zan and even offered a reward for saving her from great peril. But he had refused it all. Leaving the palace, he had submerged himself among the commoners.
When had he first learned that his life was in danger? If he remembered rightly, it was soon after Seimiya married Shunan. Damiya’s supporters among the nobles had now fallen from grace, and they blamed Ialu. Kailu had come specifically to warn him that they were seeking revenge. Although Ialu had listened, he hadn’t bothered to change his ways. If they attacked and killed him, he had thought, so be it. Although he was attacked once, his assassins had been inept and their attempt failed.
When he recalled that period of his life, all that came to mind was a clammy darkness as black as night. He had killed so many men that his continued existence seemed cowardly and despicable. Yet something within him rebelled angrily at this very thought. It was Elin who had shown him the true nature of the feelings that lurked inside him.
Ialu frowned as he gazed down at his captives. He wished they had been trying to kill him for revenge. But instead they had tried to abduct him. Clearly, he was not their true target. Resting his forehead in his hands, he closed his eyes.
It’s Elin they’re after.
Were they hoping to force her to do their bidding by taking him hostage? Or were they going to use him as bait to lure her out and kill her? Whichever it was, who was behind this?
The Beast Warrior Page 16