The Beast Player

by Nahoko Uehashi

  Watching the sky darken to twilight, Elin thought of the summer days she had spent with Joeun. And it gradually dawned on her how incredibly lucky she had been. If no one had found her on the bank where the Toda had left her, she would probably have died. If the person who had found her had been cruel, who knew what kind of misery she might now be living in?

  She saw Joeun’s smiling face in her mind’s eye. Yes, she had been happy. Those days with him were like priceless gems.

  When I grow up, I’ll go back to the meadow on Kasho Mountain where Joeun had his summer hut.

  She would lie in that meadow full of flowers he had loved so much, look up at the sky, and speak with him. She would tell him how grateful she was for all he had done, how much she had longed to see him, how she had spent her days and how she had grown up… She would live in such a way that Joeun would declare, “Well done, Elin, well done. You’ve lived your life well.”

  She stood in the meadow gazing up at the sky until the clouds streaming across it turned from smoky gray to a deep, dark blue.

  5 WOUNDED

  Summer had passed, and the students were just returning when the Beast cub began to shed its baby fur. Beneath the soft down, a thicker coat with a brilliant sheen was beginning to emerge, but the effect was marred by shaggy clumps of partly shed fur clinging to its body.

  “Oh, poor Leelan! What a sorry sight,” Yuyan exclaimed. She had just returned to the school and was visiting the stable for the first time.

  “Don’t say that, Yuyan. It takes years for Royal Beasts to fully mature and develop a full adult coat. But at least she’ll have shed her baby fur soon. Then she’ll look prettier.”

  Yuyan’s brows flew up. “She?! You mean Leelan’s a female?”

  “Yup. I just found that out recently.”

  It was only when Royal Beasts shed their baby fur that it became possible to determine their gender. Esalu had taught Elin how to check, and she had been thrilled to find out that Leelan was female.

  “She may be a girl, but she’s a raggedy one, that’s for sure,” Tomura remarked as he passed by with the medicine box.

  Yuyan burst out laughing. “She sure is. A raggedy girl. You couldn’t have put it better, Tomura.”

  It was true. Leelan did look very raggedy. Elin struggled not to laugh. “You’re so mean,” she teased, and then turned to Leelan. “Don’t you pay any attention to them. Just wait until you get your coat. Then they’ll see.”

  Leelan raised her head and looked at them, as if she knew they were talking about her. Then she began scratching vigorously, making a rumbling noise in her throat. The matted clumps must be irritating her. Wisps of downy fur whirled in the air.

  “Now if she were a dog or a horse, we could groom her with a brush,” Tomura said.

  “That’s an idea,” Elin murmured. She turned abruptly and ran over to the toolshed. Although a dog brush would be too small, a horse brush just might work. When she returned with the brush, Tomura and Yuyan gave her a startled look.

  “What on earth are you planning to do?”

  “Do you expect me to sit by quietly while you call my little girl raggedy?” Elin said, grinning at Yuyan as she climbed over the fence. She walked over to Leelan, feeling her friends’ eyes on her back as they watched her anxiously. The cub made a plaintive sound as she approached. Spreading her wings, which had grown significantly, she hopped up and down, stirring up a cloud of fur in Elin’s face.

  Elin covered her face with her arm. “Leelan! Stop that! Stay still, will you?” Although she still cooed impatiently, Leelan did as she was told, folding her wings and lowering her head to nuzzle her cheek against Elin’s shoulder.

  “I don’t believe it…” Yuyan looked stunned. “Who would have thought a Royal Beast would do that… She’s acting like a pet dog or cat.”

  Tomura nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  Elin raised the brush to Leelan’s nose so that she could smell it. “I’m going to brush your fur with this, so stay still.” Leelan sniffed the brush inquisitively, but when Elin began running it gently over her lower back, she seemed to like the sensation and began purring happily. “You’re just too big, Leelan. It will take me all day to groom you using a horse brush. We’ll have to make one your size.”

  She kept brushing as she talked, working up to Leelan’s belly and chest, but when she slipped the brush under the wing joint, it caught in a tangle. It must have hurt. With a squeal of pain, Leelan bared her razor-sharp fangs. Before Elin could react, they had nicked her left earlobe and shoulder. Heat shot across her skin, as if she had touched a pair of red-hot tongs. She leapt away with a scream. Staggering backwards, she fell to her knees on the grass. Blood dripped down her face. Blood dyed the grass, spreading slowly around her. A single thought blazed through the confusion in her mind. She raised herself to one knee and twisted her body to look back at Tomura.

  “Don’t!” she yelled. “Don’t blow the whistle!”

  Tomura, who had just been reaching for his Silent Whistle, froze and let his hand fall. Elin pressed her right hand against her ear and stood up. She felt no pain in her shoulder. Or rather, she felt no sensation at all, as if it were numb. “Whatever you do, don’t blow the whistle!” she shouted again. Then she tried to turn back to Leelan.

  The cub was frightened. Panicked by the smell of blood and Elin’s reaction, she flapped her wings frantically.

  I must scold her, Elin thought. I must teach her right now that her fangs can hurt us.

  But when she saw the blood dripping down her arm, she lost her voice. Her heart raced, and the world around her seemed unsteady. There was a ringing in her ears, as if cicadas were humming in her head. Silver specks of light flickered in front of her eyes, and she broke into a cold sweat. Turning her back on Leelan, she began tottering toward her friends. Dimly, she noticed that they had climbed over the fence and were coming toward her, but everything appeared blurred.

  I must not fall.

  If she did, Leelan would panic.

  She forced herself on, dragging one foot in front of the other. Relief washed through her as she felt Yuyan and Tomura support her on either side. The ringing in her ears became a roar, and the world went dark.

  *

  When she opened her eyes, she wondered for a moment why she was lying on a soft mattress. She let her gaze wander over the ceiling. The clear light of an autumn afternoon shone through the window. A dull pain throbbed in her left ear and shoulder. She moved her head slowly, wincing, and saw someone sitting by her pillow. It was Esalu. When she saw the disgusted expression on her face, it all came back to her.

  “Honestly, Elin,” Esalu grumbled. “What a stupid thing to do.”

  Elin’s face twisted. When she thought of how she had sauntered so confidently up to Leelan with that brush in her hand, she felt so ashamed, she wished she could disappear. How was Leelan feeling right now? Yuyan and Tomura must be worried sick, too.

  She pulled the quilt up over her head and hid her face. She wept, not so much because of the pain, but because of her stupidity.

  “Now don’t you go hiding under those covers,” Esalu said sternly. “You’ll just make the cut on your ear worse. You’ve got three stitches in your earlobe and eight in your shoulder, you know.” She pulled back the covers roughly. “If you’re ashamed of what you’ve done, then just make sure you never do such a foolish thing again! This time you got away with a cut on your ear and shoulder, but if those fangs had been even slightly to the right, they would have sliced your jugular. If that happened, you’d be dead. Royal Beasts are not pets. You were so cocksure of your bond with Leelan that it blinded you to the obvious risk!”

  Elin was sobbing so hard that she could barely breathe, but she nodded.

  Esalu sighed. “…I have to admit that I’m partly to blame. I overestimated your ability. Leelan has almost matured into an adult now. I think it’s better if you don’t touch her anymore.”

  Elin opened her eyes and stared at Esalu.
“No… I won’t stop.”

  Esalu glared at her. “I don’t care whether you like it or not. No means no. Whether Leelan means to harm you or not, she could cut your throat and kill you just by baring her fangs.”

  Elin shook her head as best she could without lifting it from the pillow. Struggling to suppress her sobs, she said, “I… know that. I… promise… I won’t be… careless again… But if I… distance myself from Leelan… it won’t be fair… She sees me as… her mother… Please… let me stay… by her side… until she’s ready… to be independent.”

  Esalu frowned and looked at her for a long moment. Finally, she said with a sigh, “If you insist on seeing Leelan so subjectively, you’re going to get yourself killed one of these days. You’ve fallen into the same delusion that afflicts so many people who care for creatures. You think that this was just a freak accident, don’t you? That as long as a fluke like this never happens again, Leelan will never hurt you. Because you’re special to her.”

  Elin’s face crumpled. Watching her, Esalu said softly, “It may be true that to Leelan you are like a mother… But a beast is always a beast.” She broke off and rubbed her face with her hand. Her eyes were blurred with fatigue. She looked at Elin and asked, “Do you know what it takes to make a beast obedient?” She did not wait for an answer. “Beasts obey anyone they perceive as stronger than themselves, anyone they see as superior. For a beast, the most important thing is the ability to discern how strong others are. You studied that, right? Beasts that live in packs or herds measure each other’s strength and decide who is stronger. The weak obey the strong.

  “In the world of beasts, strength and weakness are unforgiving measures that determine survival. A runt will not receive food from its mother. It will be kicked from the nest by its siblings and left to die. A weak male will never have the chance to mate and leave offspring in this world. The weak cannot protect their territory.

  “In a one-on-one relationship, it’s only natural for beasts to measure which one is the stronger.”

  Esalu pulled the Silent Whistle out of her robe and shook it in front of Elin. “You hate this, I know. But the Royal Beasts are far superior to us in strength. This is the only thing that can convince them of our superiority, despite our physical weakness.” She threw the whistle on top of Elin’s chest. “If you see yourself as Leelan’s mother, then train her. While she is still young, drill into her the fact that you are superior, so that she learns to obey you without question… If you don’t, when she grows up, there will inevitably come a time when you can no longer control her.”

  Esalu’s eyes had a cold glint that would tolerate no argument. “The feeling that all creatures share in common is not love. It’s fear, Elin. Engrave that on your bones. If you continue to dream and nurture this illusion in your heart, your eyes will lose the ability to see the truth. Those wounds are a good lesson. Decide right now to abandon that dream. Be objective and logical, and learn to keep a proper distance, to take a stand.”

  Elin slid her hand out from under the covers and grasped the Silent Whistle. She stared at it for a while, but then held it out. Esalu looked at her silently, and Elin returned her gaze.

  Finally, Esalu said in an exasperated tone, “Write your will then. Write that if you die, it was your own fault; that it was due to your own stupidity. Say that the headmistress is not to blame for your mistake. Write it and give it to me when you’re done.” And with those words, she left the room, an angry scowl still on her face.

  Esalu may just have been venting her frustration, but when Elin was able to get out of bed, she really did write a will. She did not address it to anyone in particular. She merely wanted to record her feelings, because if she were to keep getting close to the Royal Beast, she might lose her life at any time. When she recalled the moment Leelan’s fangs had sliced her ear and shoulder, her stomach knotted. If they had touched her neck or midriff…

  She did not need Esalu to warn her. She was terrified to the core. For the first time in her life, she was afraid of Leelan. Yet she still could not bring herself to use the Silent Whistle to “train” the cub. As she wrote her will, she remembered Joeun’s warning.

  “Listen, Elin. There is a big difference between people and animals. Don’t ever forget that. Totchi is a gentle mare. She’s used to you and to me. She’s like family. But if a wasp stung her and she was startled by the pain, she could kill you with one blow of her hoof. A person stung by a wasp would go crazy with pain, too, but they would never kill their friend because of it. A horse can’t make that distinction.”

  It was true. There was a huge gap between beasts and humans. She had a bad habit of taking that gap too lightly, such as the time she had killed a honeybee by trying to stroke it. These wounds were a warning stamped on her body so that she could never forget.

  Still, she did not think that Esalu was right. Fear could not be the only emotion that living creatures shared in common. The feeling that she sensed Leelan had for her was far warmer than that. How could she use the Silent Whistle if she wished to teach Leelan that violence was wrong? Using the whistle would be like beating her with a whip, and she could not bear the thought of training her like that.

  *

  Not wishing to give the will to Esalu in person, she put it in an envelope with the headmistress’s name on it and placed it in her shoe cupboard. She did not know if Esalu had read it or not, for she never mentioned it, but she did not stop Elin from going to Leelan once her wounds were healed.

  CHAPTER 6

  Flight

  1 QUICKENING ANXIETY

  By nature, Shunan was a light sleeper. And sleep did not come easily right now. His mind was busy with many thoughts, for he knew it might not be long before he must take his father’s place. For that reason, he had chosen to wander through the palace gardens tonight. Although he pitied the guards who must stay with him so late, he found his thinking was sharper when he paced back and forth gazing at the thin clouds veiling the moon.

  For the last few years, two concerns in particular had occupied his mind. One was the movement of the Lahza, the horse riders who were spreading across the eastern plains, swallowing up the many tribes that lived there. In the past, they had been just one small tribe among many, but now they had amassed more than a hundred tribes and were building a formidable nation. Their frequent raids along the eastern border of Lyoza were proof that they had ambitions regarding this land.

  Up to now, the Toda Warriors had repulsed them every time. But the Toda were few in number. With incursions so frequent, the Aluhan could not rely on Toda troops alone, and recently he had begun recruiting large numbers of soldiers from the common people. This only increased the commoners’ discontent.

  And that was Shunan’s second concern. His people shed their blood to protect this land, yet instead of the respect that they deserved, they were viewed by the Holon with fear and contempt, and were suspected of plotting to kill the Yojeh. Why are we the only ones to lay down our lives in defense of the kingdom? This was the doubt that festered in his people’s minds, and it was turning slowly into discontent and a deep-rooted bitterness.

  That’s what is breeding assassins in our midst, yet every attempt on the Yojeh’s life increases the Holon’s fear and hatred for us… The longer this goes on, the more entrenched this vicious cycle will become. If we don’t break free of it, there will be no future for our country.

  But to choose the wrong way to do so would cut even more deeply into the fabric of the nation. No matter what, they must avoid acting hastily. Shunan’s father, however, suffered from an old illness that was growing steadily worse, and Shunan feared that he would force himself to take action before he had resolved the doubts in his mind. He knew full well that if his father should commit the act of brutality he was contemplating, it would not be from self-interest, but rather to protect the future of his sons. But the method he was considering would be a colossal mistake.

  The problem was the shape their country should t
ake. He and his father were both in agreement on the ultimate goal. What they did not agree on was how to get there. Shunan was sure that his father’s approach would not bring about a better future.

  He claims that the Yojeh’s authority is all froth and no substance, but he doesn’t realize that the structure of that power is laid deep within his own mind.

  And that is why coercion and force were the only solutions his father could see. If he knew what Shunan was thinking, his eyes would pop out of his head, and he would undoubtedly declare it impossible. He would have good reason, too. Anyone would agree, whether they were Holon or Wajak. His brother Nugan, who believed that the true way of the Aluhan was to swear fealty to the Yojeh and accept defilement on her behalf, would blaze with anger and denounce his idea as a desecration.

  But this country will only be reborn when we succeed in destroying the invisible yet rigid power structure embedded in people’s minds.

  Shunan was aware that his people trusted him, and he believed that he could do what it took to fulfill that trust. But if Lahza became a powerful kingdom, it would no longer be possible for the Aluhan’s people alone to defend this country. Should that day come, their survival would depend upon their ability to unite their two territories.

  He came to a halt at the edge of the pond and looked up at the moon. There is only one way to bind our two peoples together. But how was he to share this feeling, to communicate his thoughts to her? His mind had been focused on this problem for some time. Once and only once, he had summoned the courage to convey to her what he was thinking. Her response had been curt—a natural reaction. But if he failed to change her concept of “natural”, there could be no future for this country. To communicate with her would be dangerous, like walking a tightrope, but it would have to be done.