Tanda sighed. “You’re covered in leaves too, and you have much more important work to do right now than worry about me finding a wife. Why don’t we have some tea and something to eat while we talk?” He brushed the leaves from his hair and entered the hut.
They shared their adventures while sipping the aromatic tea that Tanda made. When they finished, Balsa said, “Let me get this straight. Nyunga Ro Im is some kind of spirit or creature that lives in deep water and breathes out clouds. Because it can’t move by itself when it becomes an adult, once in a hundred years, just before it dies, it lays an egg in a creature of Sagu to be carried to the sea. If that’s the case, then why don’t we just hurry to the sea with the egg now?”
But Torogai shook her head. “No, I don’t think that will work. It’s not time yet. Chagum’s dreams about water and the way he tries to walk into it are, I think, caused by the egg’s memories of a time when it was in the water in Nayugu, and maybe it helps the egg get used to the water of Sagu. You said the water seemed thick and gluey, right? Perhaps as the egg matures it can change the water of Sagu like that. At any rate, I think that, when it’s time, Chagum will start to move toward the sea without even thinking about it.”
“Is it true that if the egg is protected until midsummer my life will be saved?” Chagum interrupted.
Torogai nodded. “I think so. Many years ago a creature of Nayugu told me that the egg laid by Nyunga Ro Im does not hurt its host.”
Chagum looked relieved. Tanda placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled, but then turned to Torogai with a serious expression on his face. “But if it isn’t protected, it will be eaten by Rarunga, right? Like a hundred years ago. Still, it’s strange. I know there was a terrible drought at that time, but it didn’t last a hundred years. Do you think Nyunga Ro Im really creates the clouds?”
Torogai shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know everything, you know. But if you think about it, there’s a lot more to this world than the Nayoro Peninsula. Clouds form everywhere. Perhaps there is more than one Nyunga Ro Im. Or there may be more spirits that make clouds, just as there are many creatures that lay eggs — fish, birds, snakes. Some of the same creatures even lay their eggs in different ways.
“The one thing we know for sure is that here on Nayoro Peninsula, if Nyunga Ro Im’s egg doesn’t grow up and hatch, we get one heck of a drought. We have no choice but to protect that egg.”
“I know,” Tanda said. “And not just to save ourselves from drought. We must protect it because Chagum’s life depends on it.”
The conversation paused, and Tanda refilled everyone’s cups. Chagum, his eyes on Torogai as she slurped her tea with relish, blurted out a question he had been longing to ask for some time. “Torogai, Tanda said I was the Moribito, the Guardian of the Spirit, because Nyunga Ro Im is a cloud spirit. But the masters at Star Palace taught me that a spirit is formed when the life forces of many things combine together, and that spirits are invisible beings with strange and mighty powers. Can something that is hatched from an egg and then lays eggs itself really be a spirit?”
Torogai looked up. “So that’s what you Yogoese think, is it? Listen, boy. People from different countries who speak different languages have different ways of thinking. You know that, don’t you? Take Balsa here. She’s from Kanbal. The Kanbalese believe that thunder is a god. Right, Balsa?”
Balsa nodded. “That’s right. In the beginning, the darkness created a whirlpool, and from it sprang the light. This was Yoram, the god of lightning.”
Torogai returned her gaze to Chagum. “You see? You, Chagum, are Yogoese, and the Yogoese believe that their god is a giant formed when the world began through the merging of the most powerful life forces in the universe. When this god stirred the darkness, the heavens, which are lighter, rose above, while the earth, which is heavier, sank below. The earth gave birth to the goddess, and the goddess, together with the god, created the first human, the founder of your imperial line. Am I right?”
Chagum nodded. This story of the origins of his people was very sacred to him, and he stiffened, expecting the magic weaver to make fun of it. Seeing his expression, Torogai smiled suddenly. “Don’t fret, boy. I’m not so foolish as to ridicule the myths and legends of other people. For countless generations, people, no matter where they’re from, have been trying to understand this world of ours. The Yogoese believe in a giant god; the Yakoo believe that the first being was a swirling snake. How can I possibly say which is true? Nor is the Yogoese idea of spirits the same as the Yakoo idea. For us, spirits are things related to water, earth, fire, air, and wood that have great power. Take the trees growing in the mountains. A tree that has lived thousands of years comes to have great power, and we Yakoo think of it as a spirit. Even if it was just a little wee seedling thousands of years ago, we still call that tree a spirit.”
“Great power? What kind of power?”
Torogai sighed. “Now listen here. It’s not something that can be easily described in words. A tree spirit, for example, has a strong force, something like the power of life. That’s what we call great power. As for Nyunga Ro Im, it can control water, breathe clouds, give birth to the rain. These great powers are what make it a spirit…. That’s the kind of thing I mean.”
Seeing the serious expression on Chagum’s face as he pondered this, Balsa burst out laughing. “You look just like Tanda twenty years ago. Me, I find such abstract ideas impossible to follow. Do you like this kind of thing?”
Chagum thought for a moment and then said, “I wouldn’t say that I like it. It’s just that when I don’t understand something, I have to think about it until I understand it clearly.”
At this, Tanda smiled. “Chagum is more suited to being a scholar than a prince. Mind you, if princes were as thoughtless as Balsa here, the country would be in terrible shape.”
“You can say what you like,” Balsa snorted. “But getting back on topic, no matter what this Nyunga Ro Im is, we must protect Chagum from two things: Rarunga, the Egg Eater; and the Mikado’s men.”
Torogai scratched her chest roughly. “It will be much easier if those Star Reader fellows heed my message and mend their ways. Ah, but it makes me glad to know that that little girl in Yashiro village remembered the story of Nyunga Ro Im. If such little traces remain, there’s hope yet.”
“But I wonder why we lost that knowledge in the first place,” Tanda said. “The story of Nyunga Ro Im is so important, it could save the country from famine. How could it vanish so easily from people’s memories?”
Torogai glanced briefly at Chagum before answering. “I’m sorry to have to say this in front of the Second Prince, but I blame politics. The story of Nyunga Ro Im is directly tied to the legend of Torugaru founding this country. The Star Readers want to control everything in the universe, and therefore they can’t let the people believe in the legends of the Yakoo. Yet, even so, some people still know them, like me and Noya’s granddaughter. I learned the story of Nyunga Ro Im from my teacher, Gashin, and Tanda learned it from me. Unfortunately, our knowledge is incomplete. We lost the most important part of the story: how to destroy Rarunga. Yet some precious wisdom has still survived, like a thread slipping past the eyes of those who run the country.”
Chagum frowned at Torogai. “Do the wise men in Star Palace truly manipulate the people the way you say? How would they do it?”
“By using things like the midsummer festival,” Torogai replied.
At this the boy’s eyes narrowed. “The midsummer festival is a festival celebrating our sacred ancestor’s triumph over the water demon and the purification of this land. What about it?”
Torogai shook her head. “For the Yakoo, it was originally a festival to pray for a bountiful harvest. The Water Dwellers of Nayugu told me that midsummer’s day is the day that Nyunga Ro Im will hatch its egg. I believe we passed on the knowledge of how that could be done safely through the midsummer festival. But now the festival has been changed into a celebration of Torugaru’s victory. Ev
en magic weavers like me have no way of knowing what the original festival was like or what knowledge has been lost…. That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”
Listening to their conversation, Tanda again felt a snatch of memory come unbidden to his mind: the festival song he had sung as a child when his grandfather let him rattle the nahji’s bones.
Fly, nahji, fly!
Fly to the sea and make the rain fall;
make the rice grow tall.
He remembered four wooden posts drenched in oil that were set ablaze on both banks of the river — how black they had burned; a play in which warriors used burning torches to fend off and corner a wildly dancing papier-mâché demon that was then slain by a hero; the sound of people singing an incantation to bring the blessed rain. Something tugged at his mind, but before he could grasp it clearly, Torogai began to talk again.
“I don’t think those Star Readers could have forgotten something so important. The written word can be very powerful at times like this. If the way to beat Rarunga is preserved anywhere, it will be in their records. Of course, they’ve been so busy trying to run the country that they’ve forgotten their true purpose! It’s been two hundred years, so insects might have chewed up all their books…. Even so, unless they are total fools, they’ll realize something important is going on. They won’t kill the prince if they don’t have to.”
“That’s right,” Balsa interjected. “Even when they attacked us, they weren’t trying to kill Chagum.” The boy looked at her in surprise. “That’s why I was able to rescue you,” she said, turning to him. “You didn’t notice, but they had a perfect opportunity to kill you. If that had been their goal, they would have done it then. But instead, they changed their positions so they wouldn’t hurt you and attacked me instead. I ran away from them so I could come back and rescue you when they split up and there was only one of them with you.”
Chagum leaned forward eagerly. “That means, then, that my father — the Mikado — he’s not trying to kill me?”
Balsa glanced quickly at Tanda. Before Torogai could open her mouth, he said, “Of course your father doesn’t wish to kill you if he can avoid it. That would only be a last resort. But that doesn’t mean you can relax. The Mikado is not an individual. He must think of the country first, of keeping it stable, before his feelings as a parent, so you must still be careful.” He spoke with compassion, and Chagum accepted his words readily. “At any rate,” Tanda added, “We can’t go wrong if we prepare for the worst. I think we should move to the hunting cave early this year.” Torogai and Tanda kept firewood, dried food, and other provisions in a cave deep in the mountains. Even in the midst of winter, when everything was buried in snow, they could live there without freezing to death.
In the end, they decided to leave the hut as soon as possible in order to make the cave livable before the snows came.
The next morning, while Tanda was off buying provisions in town, Balsa took Chagum to check the hunting traps. They spent the rest of the day smoking the fresh rabbit and deer meat. Chagum hated skinning the rabbits; the worst of it was that they were still warm, which made them feel alive. He sobbed as he pulled the skin off the way Balsa showed him.
“The trick is not to think about it, Chagum. That will only make it worse. Move your hands without thinking.” Balsa took her hunting knife and cut the outsides of the animal’s leg joints, then snapped the bones in them one by one: crack, crack. She quickly sorted the entrails into those that were edible and those that were not, finished preparing their catch, and hung the meat in the smoke shack while it was still light. “If you smoke the meat,” she told him, “it lasts much longer and tastes better too.”
They continued working into the night. Balsa tanned the hides they had stripped from the animals and packed the smoked meat into bags. Tanda tied herbs into bunches or ground them into powder. Even Chagum helped, jumping up to do whatever he was asked. Torogai, however, did nothing. After supper, she drank the wine that Tanda bought her, then stretched out beside the hearth, the warmest spot in the room, and began to snore. Her face as she slept was the picture of happiness.
Within two days they finished packing. They closed up the hut and set off for the hunting cave, deep in the Misty Blue Mountains.
Chagum had expected the hunting cave to be small, but when they reached it, he found it was far different from what he had imagined.
They had followed the Aoyumi River, climbing ever higher, until they passed beyond a waterfall and came to a grassy glade similar to the one in front of Tanda’s hut. Behind this rose a gray cliff covered in a tangle of ivy and tree roots, which grew stoutly from any bit of soil lodged in the cliff’s cracks or ledges and spiderwebbed across its face. Now, at the end of autumn when the signs of winter deepened, the trees had shed their leaves, exposing the gray stone in many places.
There was a small opening in the rock, just large enough for one person to stand in. Tanda lit a torch and entered. A moment later he called Chagum, who timidly stepped inside, then looked about in amazement. A cavern at least as large as the great hall in the palace lay before him. The ceiling was so high that the light of the torch did not reach it, nor could it penetrate the darkness at the cave’s farthest end. He had expected the cave to be damp and dripping, but instead it was surprisingly dry.
“We call this the entranceway,” Tanda said, his voice echoing hollowly. “It’s too big, which makes it cold. Come this way, and I’ll show you our home.” Chagum hurried after him, with Balsa and Torogai not far behind. The torch illuminated three openings, one of which was covered by a wooden shutter. “You must never go into the cave on your right alone. It’s very deep and has many branches. If you lose your way in there, you’ll never get out again. The cave in the middle has a spring a little way inside with fresh, clean water. And the one on the left is the door to our house.”
Tanda removed the shutter with a clatter and went inside. Chagum noticed a faint light farther in. A few steps through the door, the cave opened up into a wide space that made him gasp in astonishment. The walls of the oval chamber were smooth and dry. On the left wall near the ceiling, three smoke holes allowed the sunlight to pour through. Sturdy split logs covered the floor, with woven rush mats laid over them. A hearth was cut into the middle of the floor, and at the far end of the room, three large earthen jars and shelves lined with various pots stood testament to the cave’s long use. There was even bedding, wrapped carefully in oiled paper to keep it from getting damp.
“It looks so comfortable!” Chagum exclaimed.
“Of course! It’s where we hibernate in winter. Give me a hand, will you? The bedding needs airing, and we have lots of cleaning to do.”
For two days they worked hard to prepare for the long winter. On the morning of the third day, when most of the work was done, Torogai headed off with Tanda to Shigumano Canyon, where she hoped to meet the Juchi Ro Gai, the Mud Dwellers of Nayugu, and learn more about Rarunga.
“We ought to get there before the snow falls,” she announced. “The Juchi Ro Gai might have already started their long winter sleep, but I suppose it’s worth a try. Balsa, you take good care of that egg.”
To Chagum’s annoyance, she made it sound as if only the egg mattered. Seeing his expression, Tanda laughed. “Don’t waste your time being angry. That’s how she gets her kicks — making people mad — so don’t give her the pleasure. Balsa,” he added, “you take care.”
Balsa folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. “Right, and what about you? Are you sure you can make it back before the snows come?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll be all right.”
When they had left, the place seemed suddenly quiet. Chagum looked up at Balsa. “It feels lonely somehow.”
“That’s because they’re so noisy! But we have so much to keep us busy that we won’t have time to be lonely.” She smiled. “And first, I’ve got to toughen you up.”
Chagum’s face fell.
In the days that fo
llowed, Balsa put the former prince through hours of chiki moves and many long runs through the forest. She also worked on improving his balance and taught him how to fall. Although Balsa was a strict teacher, she did not push him beyond his capacity, nor did she urge him on with praise or encouragement. Her approach was very matter-of-fact. The time flew by. Although Balsa remained alert for any sign of the Mikado’s men, she saw none, nor did she sense any hint of Rarunga, that fearsome Egg Eater of Nayugu. They were busy with training and daily chores from dawn to dusk.
Sometimes when Chagum wandered through the forest, where the birds warbled sweetly, or when he sat by the hearth with Balsa in the evening, he felt disoriented, as though his previous life had been some strange illusion. Only a month had passed, but his life in the Second Palace seemed very long ago. He no longer dreamed about wanting to “go home” to some unknown place, and many days went by where he did not even feel like he was carrying the spirit’s egg — as long as he did not remember why he was living in the cave with Balsa.
He fell into the habit of thinking in the late afternoons, while he gathered firewood alone in the forest. As the rays of the westerly sun shone through the branches, his mind always returned to the same question. Why me? Out of all the people in the world, why was I chosen to carry the egg?
His first thought was that he had been chosen because he was a prince. But if that were true, then what about the Yakoo boy in the legend of Torugaru, and Noya’s uncle a hundred years ago? They were commoners, and Yakoo. And besides, he was not a prince anymore. Every time he remembered this, his heart ached and he was overcome by a strange feeling. In the past, he had never questioned the fact that he was a prince; like the fact that he was the child of his mother and father, it seemed like something that would never change. Yet look how easily he had lost that rank and privilege! A person’s fortune could turn at any time.
Guardian of the Spirit Page 10