Chapter 30 The Lecture
“Such rudeness!” Dr. Baksan scowled, raising a tiny fist and driving it against Wataru’s shin. “You could take all the gold, all the crystals, all the jewels the Goddess ever made and you still wouldn’t be able to buy the books in this room! Do you understand? Watch where you’re stepping!”
Wataru moved quickly to an empty spot on the floor, and knelt. Only when he had done this was he finally at eye level with Dr. Baksan.
Baksan, he discovered, was a very, very short person. He only came up to Wataru’s waist. He was wearing a tube-sleeved shirt of rich purple cloth, inlaid with many strands of gold thread, and the cylindrical hat on his head was embroidered with that familiar star pattern.
He was also very, very old. Bushy white hair reached down to his shoulders and his eyebrows were so long and wispy the ends reached down to his chest. The whiskers on his chin curled downward, reaching to the tips of his fingers. Indeed, apart from the pink nose jutting out from the center of his face, everything else was covered in white hair.
“Dr. Baksan?” Wataru asked.
The tiny scholar raised his fist again, his face beet red. “The only one with that title in this room, I daresay! You waste my time with your questions—no, you waste the very air itself!” This last comment was punctuated with a sharp jab to Wataru’s leg.
“What are you doing down there, Wataru?” Kee Keema asked from behind him. He had just finished extricating himself from a mound of books.
“You there! Big waterkin!” Dr. Baksan cried, leaping into the air. “Don’t touch that pile of books, or so help me…”
At last, Kee Keema and Meena could see who Wataru was talking to.
“Dr. Baksan is a pankin!” Meena gasped.
“First time meeting one of them.”
“What’s a pankin?”
“A very small, and very smart, race. Long ago, they lived in harmony with the ankha,” Meena began.
“And then there was a war between pankin and ankha,” Kee Keema continued. “The pankin couldn’t hope to prevail against the ankha—giants from their perspective—and so they fled. After that they wandered the land and…” Kee Keema peered at Dr. Baksan, an unusually thoughtful expression on his face. “I thought they were all gone.”
“Well, my apologies for defying your expectations!” Dr. Baksan said, lashing out with a foot this time. He was wearing tiny woven leather boots. “Sasaya is a haven for quite a few races that don’t deign to live among the barbarians in Nacht, or the self-serving wretches of Arikita.”
“I’m sorry! We had no idea,” Wataru apologized, holding out his hands to ward off Dr. Baksan’s attack. “We’ve come here to ask you something. Shin Suxin sent me.”
Dr. Baksan’s fist stopped in mid-swing. “Eh? Shin Suxin, you say?”
“Yes. He’s your apprentice, right?”
“Apprentice? No. He’s my student,” the ancient scholar said, tugging on his whiskers. “It surprises me to hear that he would have any business with Highlanders. He was such a good-for-nothing punk.”
Wataru’s firewyrm band had not escaped Dr. Baksan’s notice, apparently.
“Shin isn’t a good-for-nothing at all, sir. When I met him he was carrying on his observations quite dutifully by the Swamp of Grief. I had gotten lost, and if it weren’t for him, I might never have gotten out of there alive.”
“Yes, yes, I see. Quite impressive, to be sure. Though one can’t help but wonder at a Highlander who gets lost in the first place.”
Wataru heard a snort of laughter from behind him. Meena!
“I don’t know why you’ve come, but as you can see, I’m quite busy.”
“We know, but if you could just spare us…”
“No, no sparing, not today. I’m busy. The door is right over there. Farewell!”
As nimble as a kitten, the scholar tried to slip between two mounds of books. Bracing himself against the onslaught that was sure to come, Wataru reached out and grabbed the pankin by the collar. Then he yanked him back by the nape of his neck, making the poor guy look even more like a kitten.
“Ack! What are you doing? How rude!”
“I’m sorry, but there’s something we really need to know, and I’m afraid you’re the only one who can tell us. You see, I need to know how to get to the path that leads to the Tower of Destiny.”
“The Tower of Destiny?” asked Dr. Baksan, spinning around in midair to look at Wataru.
“Yes, I’m a Traveler.”
Dr. Baksan’s eyebrows lifted and his eyes opened wide. It was actually the first time Wataru could see his eyes under those bushy brows. They gleamed with a fire that was anything but old. For some reason, Wataru found himself recalling Mitsuru’s eyes.
“If he’s supposed to know so much,” whispered Kee Keema to Meena, “why does he look so surprised to meet a Traveler?”
“I see,” Dr. Baksan said, his voice suddenly quiet. “Perhaps I might enlist your aid, then, in searching for my boots?”
“Your boots?” Wataru asked, frowning. “Aren’t they on your feet?”
“No, no, not these shoes. My boots. They’re around here somewhere. Behind the big waterkin, perhaps.”
The boots turned out to be something like platform shoes made out of wood. Once on his feet, the pankin could easily look Wataru in the eye.
“And this waterkin and the kitkin miss, they are your friends?” the scholar asked Wataru.
“They are.”
“Then they need to step out. You are aware of the situation downstairs? Ever since the messenger came, the ignorant and unwashed masses have been disturbing our studies, making these halls of research as noisy as a city bazaar. Perhaps your friends could go help with security, eh?”
The two gave Dr. Baksan suspicious looks, but Wataru nodded, so they left the room in silence.
“Close the door now,” Dr. Baksan said to Wataru. “When you’re done, come back here to me.”
Wataru returned, and the scholar lifted his bushy eyebrows to get a good look at the boy before him. He thrust out his little hands and took a hold of Wataru. “Welcome, Traveler,” he said with gravity. “From the set of your face and your clouded eyes, I surmise you’ve come here because you know exactly what Halnera entails. Is this so?”
“I know that I may be chosen as one of two sacrifices.”
“Hrm, yes.” Dr. Baksan let go of Wataru’s hand and wound his fingers together in front of him, as though in prayer. “And your two friends, they do not know what you know. Is this so?”
“Yes. I haven’t told them yet.”
“So. What is it you have come here for?”
Finding the answer to that question was the reason he had come. Wataru paused a moment, then said, “It’s a long story.”
“Good, I like a long story,” the scholar said, smiling.
Wataru started from the beginning—from when Mitsuru saved his life, when he became a Traveler, up to his discussion with the Elder in Sakawa.
Perched motionless atop his wooden platform boots, Dr. Baksan listened intently to every word.
Finally he said, “We starseers compare the movement of the heavens with events here in Vision to divine the principles and workings of this world.” His voice rang with weight and authority. “Yet, it is my deepest regret to inform you that the Elder of Sakawa overestimates us. No one in my school knows of the location of this gemstone that will reveal the path to the Tower of Destiny. Nor is there any record of such a thing in the ancient tomes. In fact, this is only my first time ever meeting a Traveler such as yourself.” The scholar gave Wataru a curt bow.
“Oh…” said Wataru with obvious disappointment. But at the same time he was relieved. Even if a miracle should occur, and he suddenly came into possession of all the gemstones, he lacked the confidence in his ability to face the trials on the path to the tower.
“The Elder said that when I stood before the Goddess, I would know what to ask of her.”
“Yet you do not believe his words. Am I right?”
“No, I don’t.”
“That’s because you do not believe in yourself,” the scholar replied quietly.
“What should I do?”
Dr. Baksan’s whiskers twitched. He seemed to be smiling. “Were I to tell you, would you do it?”
Wataru couldn’t answer.
Dr. Baksan assumed a lecturing pose, his arms crossed at his chest. “As I said before, we have spent many ages attempting to divine the principles that move our world. It goes without saying that the road ahead of us is still long, and there is more that we do not know than we do. Were you to compare our knowledge now to a spoonful of sugar, that which we do not know would be a field of sugar cane stretching as far as the eye can see.”
“I was expecting you to say a mountain of sugar.”
“No, because it is not enough to add to what we know. To obtain knowledge from that field, we must cut it and refine it. We must learn the most effective ways of harvesting and the methods of removing impurities. All this we must obtain as well as simply the knowledge we seek. That is what it means to study and learn.”
Wataru had never heard this in school.
“If there were a grain I could give you from the spoonful in my hand now, it would be…”
Dr. Baksan swiveled on top of his boots, turning his back to Wataru. “Vision reflects the heart of the Traveler, and changes accordingly. That is what you must know.”
Wataru recalled having heard those exact words before. That’s right, Wayfinder Lau. That’s what he told me before I set off for the Cave of Trials.
—Vision changes for each person who comes to it.
That’s why the Vision he saw and the Vision Mitsuru saw were different. But something was wrong, because he and Mitsuru were definitely in the same place.
“It is very rare for two Travelers in Vision to be friends in the real world,” Dr. Baksan continued. “This is why, in the two Visions that you both see, there are many similarities, and these similarities overlap. Because you each think of each other, this happens all the more frequently. That is why you will sometimes encounter each other—rub shoulders as it were. Do not think that Wayfinder Lau was trying to lead you astray.”
Wataru nodded, but he wasn’t completely satisfied. “Dr. Baksan, there’s something I don’t get. I would never wish for something as cruel as a human sacrifice. If Vision really is a reflection of my own heart, how could such a harsh tradition exist?”
“Oh, I think you know why!” Dr. Baksan cut Wataru off in a loud voice. Then, arms still crossed at his chest, he turned back around—a little too fast for his wooden boots.
“Ack!” the scholar yelped, falling backward onto the floor.
“Dr. Baksan! Are you okay?” Wataru shouted, peering beyond the platform boots. At that moment, the door to the study flew open.
A roar sounded through the room. “Where’s Dr. Baksan? Come out! I said come out!”
Wataru slipped between the piles of books and turned toward the door. He peeked out from between two weighty tomes.
“Stay back! Nobody come close! Do what I say, or she gets it!”
Wataru gulped and ducked down behind the stack. When he took another look, he saw a giant man—the beastkin—standing at the door. He wasn’t alone. The woman starseer they had passed earlier was with him. He was holding her pinned. Her arms were behind her back, and one of his sharp claws was at her throat.
“I know you’re here, Dr. Baksan! Come out! You want your student to die?”
“I am here!” the scholar said in a loud voice. “I’m here, but I’m afraid I cannot get up by myself!”
Wataru looked behind him to see Dr. Baksan lying on the floor, pinned underneath one of his tall wooden boots. Wataru must’ve knocked it over with his knee when the door slammed open. Hurriedly, he rushed over and began helping the diminutive starseer up.
“I am here!” he shouted again as soon as he was on his feet, and began to run for the door. Wataru grabbed him by his collar a second time and held him back. “Don’t run out there. He has a hostage!”
“What?”
“Sir?” It was the woman starseer. She was sobbing. “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy. But I think he’s going to kill me!”
“Eh? Romy? Is that you?”
This time the scholar bolted for the door faster than Wataru could grab him. Wataru crept along the floor to the opposite side of the stack of books. He wanted to get a better look at the beastkin.
“Ach, Romy! What’s the meaning of this!” Dr. Baksan said, running to the door.
The beastkin man lashed out with a powerful kick. “I said stay back! Back! Where’s Dr. Baksan?”
The scholar dodged the kick at the last moment, sprawling on the floor. He stood up, coughing and waving his arms. His nose was bright red. He was furious. “I’m Dr. Baksan! You told me to come out, so here I’ve come. Now let go of my student!”
“Be careful, sir,” the woman named Romy said. “He’s serious!”
“And I’m not?!” Dr. Baksan roared, hopping to his feet. “Fool! I don’t know why you’ve come here, but this violence is utterly unacceptable! If you’ve something to say, I’d have you say it without threatening my students!”
The request was reasonable enough, but Wataru wasn’t sure the beastkin holding Romy would react in a reasonable fashion. His overall appearance reminded Wataru of the Highlander Trone in Gasara, but he was almost twice Trone’s size. He wore simple cloth garments that were dirty and torn. His eyes were bloodshot with excitement, and there was foam at the corners of his mouth. His breathing was ragged, and his breath was hot. Even the nails on his feet were sticking straight out.
Blood was dripping onto the floor. For a moment, Wataru was afraid that it was Romy’s, but then he saw an arrow sticking into the beastkin’s left calf. One of the Highlanders on watch must have shot him.
“You, little old man! Are you really Dr. Baksan?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” the scholar raged, stomping his feet. The beastkin frothed at the mouth and pinned Romy’s arms behind her back even tighter. She gave a little yelp.
“You look like a man of knowledge. So tell me. How do I make sure I don’t get chosen?”
Dr. Baksan stood absolutely still and stared at the beastkin. “Oh, is that it?” he asked at last.
“Of course it is! I know you know too! That’s what you’ve been studying here all these years, isn’t it? And you’ve been selling your secrets to the politicians and the rich to make your fortune! Well, now it’s my turn!”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve done nothing of the sort,” the scholar said, his voice noticeably quieter. “I can understand why you would be tempted to believe such delusions. I understand, but it is entirely without basis in fact. No one in our world knows how to avoid being chosen, if indeed there is a way at all.”
“Lies! You can’t trick me, little man!” the beastkin roared. His bloodshot eyes were opened wide and spit flew from his mouth. “It’s her blood on your hands if you don’t tell me! I’m serious!”
The beastkin tightened his grasp on Romy’s throat. The slender woman appeared to be in considerable pain.
Wataru began to move between the stacks of books, trying to position himself at the beastkin’s side.
“I know you’re serious. And indeed, none of us shall rest easy until Halnera is done,” Dr. Baksan said consolingly. “For all I know, it may be me who is chosen. This affects us all. We must cling to the thread of hope that only one person will be chosen. That, and faith, are the only two ways we can master our fear.”
Wataru circled around to the beastkin’s left. From his hiding place, he had the beastkin on his right, and a window on his left. If he fired a shot from his blade, he might be able to get him to release his grip on the woman. Then he could dash forward, getting himself between them.
There was another thing to consider: from a few moments before, he had been hearing voices from outside the entrance to the study—probably the Highlanders coming up the hallway. The moment they knew Romy was free, they would be inside in a flash.
It’s all in the timing. Wataru slowly drew his Brave’s Sword, and steadied his grip on the hilt. Come on, just turn a little more to the left—just a little more. I don’t want to hit Romy. Just a few inches more and I’ve got you.
Just then, with a heavy clang of armor, a knight appeared in the entrance to the study. “That’s enough,” he said with calm authority. “Dr. Baksan has told you the truth. No matter what you do here, no one can help you. The only thing you’ll earn is a trip back to prison.”
Blinking, Wataru lowered his sword. It’s Captain Ronmel of the Knights of Stengel!
Sheathed in platinum armor, the captain looked like he was made of solid steel. But on closer inspection, Wataru saw that his chest plate and greaves were covered with countless nicks and scratches. The captain’s helm was off, his hair was tussled, and his cheeks looked more sunken than they had when Wataru had first met him.
Sword still at his waist, and gauntleted fists hanging loosely by his side, the captain walked toward the beastkin.
“Halnera is ordained by the will of the Goddess alone. All we can do is humbly wait until she makes that will known to us. Now, release your hostage, and come here.”
The beastkin froze, drawing his breath in ragged gasps, still holding on to Romy. For a moment, it looked as though he might follow the captain’s instructions. His arms pinning his captive’s hands behind her back relaxed ever so slightly.
But in the next instant, something like a violent storm surged up from inside the beastkin, and he began to tremble uncontrollably. “You’re one of the Knights of Stengel,” the beastkin growled between clenched teeth. “I don’t listen to murderers!”
Both Wataru and Dr. Baksan were taken aback. The Knights of Stengel, protectors of the peace in the south, murderers?
Captain Ronmel made no reaction. Then, slowly, he reached out his left hand, pointing at the beastkin. “If you are Gyu Titus, peasant of Nacht—and I think you are—then that title is better directed at yourself.”
“More lies!” the beastkin howled. “I’m no murderer!”
“You were involved in a theft in Ghoza. You took down two Highlanders on the scene and escaped. The Highlanders asked for our help, and I sent men—who you also killed,” the captain said, calmly. “You were caught for that crime, tried in Gasara, and sent to Golgog Prison to be executed. Three days ago, when you escaped, you attacked two of your warders, killing one. Wherever you go, blood is spilled, and lives are trampled. It is not I, nor the Knights of Stengel, who have done this. It is you.”
“Lies, lies, lies!” the beast-man howled, slashing the air with his sharp claws. “Who drove us out of our village home? Who tightened the screws on us until we had to steal and rob to survive? It’s you and your United Southern Nations! You tried to wipe us out! And now you want to take me, the lone survivor of my tribe, and make me the sacrifice! I know what you’re about, I know! The United Southern Nations aren’t going to wait for the Goddess to choose her own sacrifice, they’re going to catch some poor unlucky bastard! A prisoner! You’re going to take a prisoner like me and sacrifice him!”
Captain Ronmel was perfectly still, moving not so much as an eyelash. His eyes, the darkest blue possible, burned with a cold flame.
“More delusions.”
“Lies!” the beastkin shrieked. “I won’t be caught! I won’t go in again!”
Howling, and still desperately clutching his hostage, the beastkin charged toward the window by Wataru. Apparently in his madness, he had forgotten they were on the uppermost floor. Wataru stood stunned for a second, watching Romy, eyes wide with fear, struggle futilely against the powerful clutch of the beastkin. The vibrations of the beastkin’s pounding feet as he charged sent books tumbling. Captain Ronmel, who had leaped for the beastkin as soon as he saw him move, was buried beneath a collapsing stack of leather-bound volumes.
“Woorrrrh!”
The beastkin’s shoulder collided with the window and shattered glass flew everywhere. A moment later he hung suspended in space, many stories off the ground. For a nanosecond, it seemed as though they were stopped there, the beastkin and Romy, hovering in space.
There was a scream.
It was the beastkin. The impact with the window had brought him to his senses, and now he remembered where they were. His ears stood straight up.
And then he began to fall, dragging Romy down with him.
Wataru leaped. Glass crunched beneath his shoes. Flinging aside his sword, arms outstretched, he ran, his abdomen colliding with the bottom of the window frame. Reaching…
The beastkin fell straight toward the ground, but Wataru’s fingers touched something soft. The sleeve of Romy’s shirt fluttered in the air. Wataru grabbed, clutching for her wrist.
Even though she was small, the effect of gravity was unforgiving. Holding the sleeve of her shirt with one hand, the waist of her shirt with the other, Wataru felt his own legs sliding over the frame of the window. I’m being pulled down. She’s pulling me through the window. I’m going to fall…
She had gone through the window and was now looking up at Wataru. Her glasses had flown off her face. She’s next. Then it’s my turn.
What happened next was pure coincidence. Wataru’s toes had been pointing up when he slipped through the window, and now they caught on the frame. He found himself hanging precariously by his feet upside down. Basic physical laws predicted that Romy would swing back and collide with the side of the building—and this is exactly what happened.
We haven’t fallen yet. My foot, my toes—they can’t hold for long. Just a little. My ankle will give. Then we’ll be following, upside down…
He could hear shouting and a tremendous commotion coming from inside the building. Someone was yelling about books and he could hear banging and sliding noises coming closer to the window.
“N-no!” squeaked Romy. “I’m falling! You’ll fall too!”
Wataru couldn’t answer. If he put so much as an ounce of energy into opening his mouth, he knew his ankles would give. His fingers would slip.
Just thinking about it made his grip loosen ever so slightly. His hand slipped from her shirt and she dropped slightly.
“H-hang on to me!” Wataru said through clenched teeth. “Grab my arm!”
Somebody help! Captain Ronmel! Get over here!
“I-I can’t. I’m going to fall!”
Wataru tried pulling her up with his one hand. Bad idea. The slippery cloth slid underneath his fingers. Get another grip—quick—she’s slipping…
Then, miraculously, something small and hard slid into his fingers just as he was about to run out of sleeve. Romy’s legs dangled. The movement threatened to rip her out of his grasp entirely. Her boots touched the wall, skidding downward.
“Let go!” she gasped. “Let me go or you’ll fall too!”
That small, hard thing turned out to be the button of her sleeve. It had slid right into the cleft between two of his fingers. I can grab onto this. I can pull her up.
There was a light popping noise, and the button came loose in his hand. The thread had snapped.
Romy’s hair billowed in slow motion. She began to fall. In shock they looked at each other, one above, one below. Wataru’s feet began to straighten. His ankles were giving. Still upside down, he began to slide down the wall of the building.
Suddenly, he felt strong arms around his waist, pulling him upward. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something red, shooting like an arrow. The shooting red Star.
“Romy!”
As Wataru slid now in reverse, he saw a karulakin, wings tucked tight to its body, plummeting down after the falling student starseer, catching her just before she hit the ground. Then he was up and through the window.
The floor was covered with books. Wataru landed with the spine of a particularly thick volume digging into his back.
“He made it!” Captain Ronmel shouted, leaning out the window. Wataru could hear people cheering and whistling from below.
As he got up from the floor, the captain turned and smiled at him. “We meet again.”
“Y-yes,” Wataru stammered, his voice still weak from his brush with death. “You…were the one who pulled me in?”
There were several people in the room now, weaving through the heaps of books scattered across the floor. Some of them wore the armor of the Knights of Stengel.
“You saved yourself. I’m surprised you managed to hang on so long.”
“You caught me in the nick of time.”
“Yes, well, it took me a while to get to the window. This place was like an avalanche of paper. I had to claw my way out.”
“What is everybody doing on the floor?”
“Searching for Dr. Baksan.”
Shortly, they heard a voice from somewhere beneath the books. “Over here! I said over here!”
Wherever he was, the starseer sounded unharmed, if a bit grumpy.
“Wataru!”
Wataru looked up to see Meena running through the door—until she was stopped by one of the Knights. “Careful,” he warned her. “You might step on Dr. Baksan.”
“No problem!” Meena said. She leaped into the air, bounced off one of the walls, and landed on a patch of bare floor right next to Wataru’s side. “I was watching you from below. I thought you were done for!”
“So did I.”
“Are you okay?”
Researchers finally managed to excavate Dr. Baksan. One of the Knights picked him up and cradled him in his arms like a child.
“Ooh, Traveler, you made it!”
“Yes, and Romy as well.”
“Excellent, excellent!” the starseer walked toward him, slipping on books as he came, and took Wataru’s hand. “My son, you’ve saved Romy’s life!”
“That beastkin man…”
The starseer looked up at Captain Ronmel. “You came here in pursuit of the beastkin, Gyu Titus?”
Captain Ronmel straightened himself and gave a curt bow. “Indeed. I apologize that you had to be involved in this affair.”
“And this Gyu Titus…was a prisoner?”
“Yes.”
“I had heard of a rumor—particularly vile—circulating through our facilities of detention, that prisoners would be offered up as the first for sacrifice. Little did I dream that it would go so far as to spur a prison-break!”
“We were lax in our security.” The captain’s eyes showed the strain of being responsible for the safety of the people in a land gripped by chaos. That’s why he looks so haggard.
“We didn’t run into any major disturbances on our way here—but I gather it’s worse in some parts?” Wataru asked.
Captain Ronmel nodded. “I fear you Highlanders will be summoned to an emergency meeting shortly. Perhaps that is what brought that karulakin here today. Lucky for the student.”
Meena gave Wataru a worried look, but Wataru’s attention was elsewhere—he was looking at his right hand.
A golden light was spilling out from between his fingers.
“What’s that?” Meena asked, eyes wide.
Wataru slowly opened his hand. In his palm, the round button from Romy’s shirt sleeve was glowing.