Guardian of the Spirit

by Nahoko Uehashi

  TITLE PAGE

  PART 1: THE CHRYSALIS

  CHAPTER I: BALSA TO THE RESCUE

  CHAPTER II: THE FLIGHT BEGINS

  CHAPTER III: THE STAR READERS

  CHAPTER IV: TOYA, THE ERRAND RUNNER

  CHAPTER V: THE HUNTERS RELEASED

  CHAPTER VI: THE HUNTERS AND THE HUNTED

  PART 2: RARUNGA

  CHAPTER I: TANDA, THE HEALER

  CHAPTER II: TOROGAI, THE MAGIC WEAVER

  CHAPTER III: TOROGAI’S MESSAGE

  CHAPTER IV: THE LEGEND OF THE YAKOO

  CHAPTER V: REUNION WITH TOROGAI

  PART 3: MIDSUMMER’S DAY

  CHAPTER I: WINTER AT THE HUNTING CAVE

  CHAPTER II: IN THE SECRET ARCHIVES

  CHAPTER III: THE CHANGE BEGINS

  CHAPTER IV: ON THE TRAIL OF SHIGU SALUA

  CHAPTER V: ATTACKING CLAWS

  CHAPTER VI: NANAI’S MEMOIRS REVISITED

  CHAPTER VII: A DREAM OF CLOUDS

  CHAPTER VIII: THE WIND OF SAHNAN AND THE WINGS OF THE NAHJI

  CHAPTER IX: A DIFFERENT DESTINY

  EPILOGUE: IN THE RAIN

  LIST OF CHARACTERS

  LIST OF PLACES & TERMS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  TEASER

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  At the moment the royal procession reached the Yamakage Bridge, Balsa’s destiny took an unexpected turn.

  She was crossing the commoners’ bridge downstream, the Aoyumi River visible through gaps between the planks. Never a pleasant sight, today it was particularly terrifying — swollen after the long autumn rains, its muddy brown waters topped with churning white foam. The rickety bridge swayed precariously in the wind.

  Balsa, however, stepped forward without hesitation. Her long, weather-beaten hair was tied at the nape of her neck, and her face, unadorned by makeup, was tanned and beginning to show fine wrinkles. She carried a short spear over her shoulder with a cloth sack dangling from the end; her compact body was lithe and firmly muscled under her threadbare traveling cloak. Anyone versed in the martial arts would recognize her immediately as a formidable opponent. But it was her eyes that truly arrested an observer: darkest black, startlingly intense, they made it clear that she could not be easily manipulated.

  These eyes now glanced upstream as she strode briskly across the bridge. Maple leaves had dyed the towering mountain slopes crimson. In the distance she could see an ox-drawn carriage, its gold fastenings gleaming in the sunset as it moved across the Yamakage Bridge — which, Balsa knew, was reserved solely for the royal family. Twenty attendants accompanied the carriage, and the red flag preceding it indicated the rank of its occupant.

  The Second Prince. He must be returning to the capital from the royal villa in the mountains, Balsa thought. She paused to watch, captivated by the beauty of that moment, suspended in time like a hanging scroll; she knew that at this distance, failure to prostrate herself could not be considered a crime. Balsa was not native to this country, and for a personal and unforgettable reason, she had very little respect for rulers of any kind.

  In the next instant, however, the tranquil scene was shattered as the ox hurled off the servant who grasped its halter. Rearing and charging wildly, it rushed forward and back, kicking its hooves and tossing its horns. The attendants were powerless to stop it; the animal seemed to have gone berserk. Balsa watched as the carriage toppled slowly to its side.

  And then a small figure in red was flung out of the carriage, arms and legs flailing as he plummeted toward the river below.

  By the time the water swallowed him, Balsa had already dropped her belongings, shrugged off her cloak, clipped the metal clasp of a rope to the end of her spear, and sent the shaft speeding toward the riverbank. It flew straight and true, sinking deep into the ground between two rocks. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed three or four servants leaping after the prince as she grasped the rope firmly in her fist and dived into the murky water below.

  The shock as she hit the surface was like being slammed into a stone floor — she almost lost consciousness. Buffeted by the rushing torrent, she hauled on the rope and climbed onto the nearest rock. She pushed wet strands of hair from her face and stared intently at the water until she caught sight of something small and red bobbing down the river. A hand fluttered on the surface, sank, then fluttered again.

  Let him have fainted. Please let him have fainted, she prayed. Getting her bearings, she leapt back into the swirling river and swam hard against the flow toward the spot where her path would cross that of the prince. The freezing water cut like a knife as it gurgled in her ears. She could just barely see the red of the prince’s robe in the dark current, and she felt the cloth slip through the fingers of her outstretched hand.

  Balsa swore in frustration, but in that instant, something strange happened. For a second — no more than the time it took to blink — she felt herself buoyed up. The raging river was suddenly stilled, all sound faded away; everything came to a halt within a clear blue space that seemed to stretch on forever. The prince alone stood out sharp and distinct. Without understanding what was happening, Balsa reached out to grasp his robe.

  As soon as her hand closed on the material, the force of the water hit her so strongly she thought it would wrench her arm off — as if that strange moment in time had been no more than a dream. With all her might, she pulled the prince to her and hooked his belt onto the metal clip attached to the other end of the rope. Gripping the rope in one numb hand, she swam back to the bank and, on the verge of collapse, hauled the prince ashore.

  He looked only eleven or twelve years old, his childish face as white as a sheet. Fortunately, he had fainted from the shock of the fall, just as Balsa had hoped, and his stomach was not bloated with water. She worked to revive him until he coughed and began breathing again.

  Well, thank goodness for that, she sighed inwardly.

  Little did she know that this was only the beginning.

  Draining the last drop of wine from her cup, Balsa breathed a contented sigh. What a surprise it had been to be invited to Ninomiya Palace! True, she had saved the prince’s life, but as a foreigner, she was of even lower rank than a commoner: The most she had expected was a sum of money. Indeed, when she left the prince with his courtiers on the riverbank earlier that day, an attendant had asked where she was lodging so he could bring her a reward. But the messenger who appeared at the inn said that the prince’s mother, the Second Queen, wished to entertain her at the palace first.

  The Mikado, the divine ruler of New Yogo, had three wives. The one who bore him his first son was known as the First Queen; the one who bore his second son, the Second Queen. Balsa had heard that there were no further heirs to the throne beyond the Second Prince, as the Third Queen had borne no sons. Such tales, however, concerned people of a different sphere than hers, and she knew no more.

  Balsa was not so ignorant of the world that the royal invitation made her vain: She knew that royalty only treat commoners kindly when they want something in return. While she was fully aware that the summons meant trouble, she could hardly refuse it without appearing rude — and that would only mean even worse trouble. She had had no choice but to come.

  Still, she was being given what seemed a wholehearted welcome; the Second Queen must love her son very much. The room in which Balsa ate was located in the outermost reaches of the palace, but a large charcoal brazier kept the space comfortably warm, and the meal was like nothing she had ever tasted before: crisply fried, juicy chicken; a subtly flavored cream soup; and fine wine, served in an elegant glass goblet. She savored every dish without fear of poisoning, for she knew that if anyone had wanted to silence her, they would have assassi
nated her at the inn, not at the palace.

  Although the queen had summoned her, she did not come to Balsa in person, but instead sent the prince’s chamberlain to convey her gratitude. Balsa was not surprised by this; according to Yogoese belief, members of the royal family were direct descendants of the great god Ten no Kami, and the divine power within them could unintentionally harm those in its path, like water flowing downhill. A commoner could be blinded just looking into their eyes.

  Balsa turned to the chamberlain now and bowed. “Thank you for the delicious meal,” she said. “A commoner such as I does not deserve such an excellent dinner.”

  The chamberlain, his white beard elegantly trimmed, bowed his head. “It is hardly sufficient repayment for saving the prince’s life. Her Highness asks that you stay in the palace tonight.”

  Balsa frowned slightly. “I couldn’t possibly take advantage of such kindness. Please tell her this delicious meal is more than enough.”

  “No, really,” the chamberlain protested. He patted Balsa on the shoulder, as if to reassure her there was no need to stand on ceremony, but then whispered quickly and almost soundlessly in her ear, “The queen has need of you. Please stay the night.” Immediately his voice returned to normal. “The palace’s hot-spring bath is marvelous. I’m sure you will never forget it.”

  Balsa bowed her head in assent. She had no choice but to accept.

  True to the chamberlain’s words, the bath was excellent. After a luxurious soak in the marble bathhouse — its hot-spring waters piped in, as only the nobility could afford — Balsa stepped outside and walked toward the outdoor pool in a corner of the walled garden. The cold night air bit her skin, but when she slipped hurriedly into the steaming tub, the heat spread slowly through her. White steam rose into the night air, and the red autumn leaves swayed in the hazy light of the torches placed about the garden. Above her wheeled a dark sky full of stars.

  I’ll just have to take things as they come, Balsa thought.

  Once out of the bath, she put on the fresh underclothes that had been laid out for her, but then donned her old traveling clothes. The serving woman attending her frowned. “I set out new clothes …”

  Balsa smiled. “Thank you, but I think I’ll be more comfortable wearing the clothes I’m used to. A commoner like me isn’t used to such luxury. Besides,” she continued, “I always carry a change of clothes, so it’s not like I never wash them.”

  The serving woman smiled stiffly and led the way down a long, dark corridor to Balsa’s sleeping quarters. Sliding doors covered in luxurious gold and silver brocade enclosed the room on all sides. Balsa guessed that each door opened onto a room similar to her own. Her bedding was already laid out in the middle of the room on thick straw tatami mats. She made sure that her spear and belongings were placed close at hand, then, loosening only her sash, she crawled under the covers and stretched out. The mattress felt heavenly.

  It’s as soft as a cloud, she thought. The nobility must sleep like this every night, but for me it’s a little taste of paradise. I wonder how long it will last…. Despite her awareness of impending danger, she let the warmth of the bath and the exhaustion of the day take hold of her.

  Most people fall asleep gradually, drifting back and forth between deeper and lighter sleep. Even when they wake, they do not regain full consciousness immediately. Balsa, however, could drop instantly into a deep sleep, as if tumbling to the bottom of a ravine, and when she woke, she was completely alert — a custom acquired through long years of training.

  She snapped awake in the middle of the night at the sound of footsteps approaching. Two people were drawing near — not from the corridor, but from one of the other rooms. Despite the caution they took, she could tell they were amateurs who did not know how to silence their footfalls. She sat up abruptly.

  A voice whispered from behind one of the doors: “Balsa.” She was surprised to hear it was a woman.

  “I’m awake. Come in,” she responded. The door slid open and a shadowy figure entered, bearing a silver candlestick in one hand and leading a smaller figure by the other. Balsa’s eyes widened when she saw the pale face illumined by the feeble light of the candle. Impossible! she thought. But there was no mistake. The face belonged to the boy she had rescued from the river last evening — the Second Prince.

  “You-Your Majesty?” she stammered. Their eyes met, and Balsa wondered if she would go blind. But far from being filled with lightning, the eyes that looked into hers were drooping with exhaustion. The boy seemed about to fall asleep.

  “I feared for you,” the woman said softly. “But looking into the eyes of royalty has not blinded you. I should have expected as much from a woman reputed to be so strong.”

  Balsa realized that the slender young woman before her was none other than the Second Queen, the Mikado’s second wife. She scrambled hastily out of bed and onto the floor where she knelt stiffly, her head bowed low. The queen began to speak in a low voice.

  “Thank you for saving the prince’s life yesterday. I am always terrified to cross that river on the way to the mountain villa — but you dived into it from a bridge! Four of his attendants jumped into the river after him, but only one survived. The bodies of the others have not yet been found.”

  The poor men, Balsa thought. She closed her eyes. If they had not dived in after the prince, they would surely have been accused of failing to try to save him. The thought that death was their only option filled her with helpless pity.

  “You must be wondering why we came to you at night and why I wished to speak with you alone. Balsa, raise your head and look at me.”

  She did as she was told, and the sight caught at her heart. Though the queen was still young, her face was as pale and drawn as if she were ill. But her eyes brightened as she looked at Balsa.

  “It is just as rumor reported!” she exclaimed. “You look so brave and bold! The serving women told me what the men said about you. Although you are a woman, you make your living by guarding others. There are none in the trade who do not know the name of Balsa, Spear-wielder — a wanderer from Kanbal fluent in many tongues, a spear-woman who has saved many lives. Is this not so?”

  Balsa looked away. “The rumors you have heard are far too glamorous, I’m afraid. I’m just a bodyguard. I protect people for money. That’s my job.”

  The queen nodded. “So if you are paid, you will save someone, yes?”

  “Well, no, that’s not quite …” Balsa searched for words to explain. “I suppose in plain terms you’re right, but there’s no guarantee that I can always save the person I protect.”

  The queen’s face grew stern. “That is strange. I have little association with the outside world, yet even I know that the item sold must have the same value as the item bought. If what you are selling is saving lives, then you must save the person’s life if you are to receive payment.”

  Balsa smiled suddenly; she had courage after all, this queen. “That’s correct,” she replied. “And if I fail to do so, I don’t get any money.”

  The queen frowned. “Why? Are you paid only after your work is finished?”

  “I’m usually paid half the money at the beginning of the job and the rest at the end. But that’s not what I meant. What I was trying to explain is that if I fail in my work, it means I’m dead.”

  The queen fell silent for a moment. Then she asked, “Why do you do it then, if it means risking your life?”

  “My lady, I’m sorry, but if I told you my whole story, the night would turn to day.”

  The queen hesitated, then glanced at her son, who had fallen sound asleep against the sliding door. Balsa had already guessed that she wished to hire her as his bodyguard. There must be trouble of some kind brewing in the palace, and the queen, fearing for her son’s life, wanted Balsa to protect him. As an outsider, she would have no connections with the court; she would be merely a new pawn that no one had ever seen or heard of. And after her rescue of the prince, Balsa must seem like a miracle-worker
to the queen. She seriously believes that I can save the prince! Balsa thought. But against palace intrigues? It’s impossible.

  But what the queen said next surpassed her wildest speculations. “I have come to you tonight resolved to part with my son forever.” Balsa’s head jerked up in surprise. The queen gazed at her steadily. “I am certain that the ox’s rage on the bridge yesterday was no coincidence. Someone is trying to kill him. Two weeks ago, when he was bathing, a rock at the mouth of the hot spring crumbled and boiling water shot from the spout. If he had not slipped and fallen at that exact moment, he would have died a horrible death.”

  “Forgive me, Your Highness, but are you sure it wasn’t an accident?”

  Balsa expected the queen to be angry, but she only sighed.

  “That’s what everyone insists. But only because they do not understand why anyone would want to kill him.” The candle made a sputtering sound. “About two months ago, when we were in the villa on the mountain, my son began moaning in his sleep, as if he were disturbed by a nightmare. He seemed to have the same dream every night, yet when he woke up, he remembered nothing. But a very strong feeling lingered in his mind.” She fell silent as if she found it hard to go on.

  “What kind of feeling?” Balsa prodded.

  “He said — he said he wanted to ‘go home.’ ”

  “Go home? To where?”

  “Somewhere. Somewhere he didn’t know. But the feeling was so strong that it deeply disturbed him. Soon we had to keep watch over him at night or he would wander off in his sleep. When this tale reached the Mikado’s ears, he came to the villa with a Star Reader.”

  Balsa knew that the Star Readers were scholars who lived in the Star Palace and had a thorough knowledge of Tendo, the divine forces that control this world and the next.

  “His name was Gakai,” the queen continued. “He listened to what the prince told him, then stayed up all night to watch over his sleep. That night, a terrible thing happened.” Her lips trembled. “A little past midnight, when everyone else had fallen asleep, I was jolted wide awake. I was conscious, but I could not move. I forced my head to turn and looked at the prince. It was amazing. He was … glowing, with a pale blue pulsing light. It was as if he were a chrysalis, with some other creature growing inside him.