TWO

THE SOARING BEAST

1

OF BEES AND HARPS

Despite being the busiest season, spring made the heart of a beekeeper like Joeun dance. As flowers burst into bloom, honeybees flitted about gathering nectar to deposit in the hexagonal honeycomb cells. Once the liquid inside evaporated, they capped each cell with white beeswax. Bee colonies thrived and expanded at this time of year. Although this meant that beekeepers had to guard against swarming, more bees meant more honey, and more honey meant more income. But first the honey had to be extracted from the comb.

Joeun and Elin rose early each morning. If the sky was clear, they eagerly set to work. First, Joeun would slide a honey knife from the bottom to the top of the comb, removing the wax seal so neatly that it made Elin itch to try. Then he would place the honey-filled comb, frame and all, into a large, barrel-like contraption and crank the handle on top. As the barrel began to spin, golden honey flowed out from the bottom. Elin’s job was to strain the thick liquid through a clean cloth into clean jars and close the lids. If she worked hard, she was rewarded with a generous spoonful of honey.

While freshly extracted honey was delicious, what really surprised Elin was the taste of pollen, which the honeybees also collected and stored in the comb. She had been intrigued by the bright pollen balls that clung to the bees’ legs when they returned to the hive, but she had never dreamed that the pollen was edible. She tried some at Joeun’s urging and was amazed to find it sweet and delicious. Watching her eyes widen, Joeun had smiled knowingly. “I bet only beekeepers know how good that tastes,” he had said. “It ferments and sours within just a day or two, you see.”

They worked from dawn to dusk without a break and woke each day to find more work waiting. For Elin, it was all new and fascinating. Every night sleep overtook her as soon as she crawled under the covers and every morning there was more to do. As the days passed, the raw agony of loss slowly dulled. Still, on rainy or slow days, loneliness would suddenly overwhelm her and not even Joeun’s presence beside her could ease her heart. Nothing could fill the space left by her mother’s absence. When the tears welled up inside, she went to the stable and crouched down to weep beside Joeun’s gentle mare, Totchi, who stood placidly munching hay. Perhaps Joeun knew why she went away, but he said nothing and just let her be.

As spring slowly moved toward summer, Joeun gradually came to the conclusion that Elin had been telling the truth about having no home and no family. She had obviously lost her parents in some very cruel way, but at least no one seemed to be pursuing her. Once every seven days he took the mare and traveled a toh (about an hour) to the crossroads on Kojon Way where a weekly market was held. There he would sell his honey and buy supplies. One day, he offered to take Elin with him, and she jumped at the chance. Clearly, she was not afraid of being seen.

Quiet by nature, she stayed by his side even when they reached the town, gazing with shining eyes at the banners and the wares in the stalls. The merchants who knew Joeun were curious to see him with a girl who obviously had Ahlyo blood in her veins, but all he would tell them was that he had taken in the daughter of a friend. When he bought her a pretty dress with a flower-embroidered collar such as the local girls liked to wear, she thanked him with pleasure. But her face did not light up the way it had on the way to town when she had seen a leaf-shaped beehive hanging from the branch of a long-leafed hoaku tree. He concluded that she was more drawn to living creatures than to clothes or accessories.

She could watch the entrance to a beehive for hours, forgetting time. Once, a new queen bee emerged from the hive, piping its beautiful high note, and he had seen Elin’s eyes fill with tears and her cheeks flush with emotion. She wandered about the fields, following the bees, and when she returned, she would relate with excitement that the hives of bees in the wild differed from one species to another, as did the flowers from which they collected nectar. But she did not come rushing back out of breath to report on every little discovery like other children would have done.

At first Joeun thought it was because she was not used to him, but as time passed he realized that whenever she made a discovery, it was her habit to ponder it on her own. While emptying the ashes from the hearth or shoveling manure from the goat pen, her mind appeared to be full of questions and speculations, and she often muttered to herself. Joeun found that eavesdropping could be quite interesting. Once while watching the honey drip slowly from the extractor, she had murmured, “It’s really not at all like nectar.” As he cranked the handle, Joeun’s ears had pricked up, but Elin did not even seem to know that she was talking out loud. With her eyes fixed on the flow of honey, she continued, “But the color of the honey when the saloh flowers were blooming was different from the color when the nosan were in blossom … so I suppose it must be flower nectar after all.”

Joeun could not keep quiet any longer. “Why are you wondering about whether or not this is flower nectar?”

Elin looked up with a startled expression and then flushed. After a moment’s silence she said, “The other day I licked the nectar from the flowers that the bees like. It was sweet, but it didn’t taste at all like honey.”

Joeun looked at her in surprise. Now he understood what was puzzling her. It was such an obvious question that he could have laughed out loud, but instead he was intrigued that at only ten she was wondering why honey did not taste the same as the flower nectar from which it was made. “I see. That’s true. So what is honey, then?” Realizing that he had fallen back into his old habit of teaching, he paused momentarily, but Elin did not appear to notice.

Her expression intent, she said, “Honeybees fill their bellies with nectar and then spit it out when they reach home. So I thought the honey must be the nectar mixed with their saliva…” She paused and Joeun waited, wondering what else was puzzling her. She cocked her head and continued. “But they fly such a long way. I followed them. They went to a meadow so far away that by the time I reached it, I was tired and out of breath. Bees are tiny, right? Much smaller than me. So that meadow must be even farther for them.” Joeun was so absorbed that his hand paused on the handle. “My mother told me that people and animals don’t eat just so that they can grow. They need food to give them the energy to move. That’s why they get really hungry if they move a lot or walk a long way. If that’s true, then how can these honeybees survive? They fly so far to eat nectar, but then they fly all the way back home and spit up what they’ve eaten.

“And what about that honey? It would take a lot of spit to make it so thick and dark … but bees are so little they must have hardly any spit at all. If they cough up that much, wouldn’t they shrivel up and die? How can they fly about as if it didn’t bother them at all?”

Suddenly realizing that he had stopped his work, Joeun hastily began cranking the handle. “That’s not an easy question to answer,” he said. “I promise I’ll teach you everything I know, but for now you must be patient because first we’ve got to extract the honey. Wait until we finish.”

From that day on, Joeun took every opportunity that arose to share all he knew about honey with Elin. Her appetite for knowledge was like that of a newborn chick searching for food. But he only realized how extreme her desire was one rainy day when it was almost summer. He had ridden to town to make a deal with a trader, leaving the house in Elin’s charge. On the way home, it had begun to rain and by the time he reached the house it was pouring. The last time he had been caught in a sudden downpour, Elin had come down the road with an umbrella to meet him. He had been expecting her to do the same today, but even when the house came in sight, she still did not appear.

He led Totchi into the stable, where he rubbed her down and gave her some hay. Then he walked to the house. Even at the entranceway, not a sound could be heard from inside. He opened the door anxiously, wondering where on earth Elin could have got to on such a miserable day, only to see her sitting in the far room beyond the earth-floored kitchen. She had her back to the door and did not turn around even when he entered the house. Walking quietly up behind her, he peered over her shoulder to see what she was doing and raised his eyebrows in surprise. She was totally absorbed in one of his books—a medical tome on poisons. Her head was moving slowly as she followed the words on the page, and she seemed to be murmuring something.

“Hey there,” he said. She started and whipped around to stare up at him.

The blood drained from her face. “I’m sorry!” She seemed to be expecting a severe scolding for taking a book without asking permission.

Joeun sat down in front of her and took the book in his hand. “No need to apologize … but can you read?”

Elin nodded.

“Did you go to school?”

She shook her head. “My mother taught me.”

Joeun waved the book in front of her. “Your mother taught you well enough to read something as difficult as this?”

Elin hunched her shoulders. “It was too hard. I couldn’t read a lot of the words.”

Joeun smiled. “I see. That’s a relief. To tell you the truth, you gave me goosebumps. I come home on a dark, rainy day to find a ten-year-old girl totally absorbed in The Book of Poisons.” Elin ducked her head sheepishly. “This is a textbook for sixteen-year-old youths of the upper artisan class. If you had been able to read it effortlessly, you would have to forgive me for thinking you were some kind of supernatural creature.” The color was returning to her face, and he looked her in the eye. “But you were really concentrating, weren’t you? You didn’t even hear me come in. Was it that interesting?”

Elin nodded, wondering how she could possibly explain. She had discovered Joeun’s extensive book collection the other day when he had gone into town to trade. It had been raining, and she was bored. She had opened the cupboard in the living room with the intention of mending Joeun’s clothing. To her amazement, the cupboard, which was large enough to walk right into, was jammed with stacks of books. Never in her life had she seen so many books in one place. She knew she shouldn’t touch his things without asking, but she could not resist. She just had to know what kind of books they were.

She had taken them out one by one so as not to disturb the order, looking at the titles with rising excitement. There were books full of stories, books about honey, books about different countries … It was like having a pile of treasure right in front of her. There had been no time to read before Joeun returned home, so she had been longing for a chance to be alone in the house ever since. Today, as soon as he had left, she opened the cupboard and pulled out the books. She knew that she only had until he came back, but still it took her a long time to decide what to read. She had begun reading the medical book quite by accident.

After thumbing through several books to see what they were about, she had noticed the heading “Change in Odor” in this one. Instantly, she recalled her mother wading into the Pond to see why the Toda had died. Elin had asked her why their odor had changed but her mother had looked shocked and warned her to tell no one. Why had she told her not to tell? Why had the Toda’s odor changed? As she pondered these questions, another memory surfaced in her mind—something her mother had said when they shared their last meal together: Toda living among men grow weak.

“Think about it. What can Toda in the wild do naturally that Toda raised in the Ponds can’t? I’m sure you’ll find the answer for yourself one day. But when you do, don’t tell anyone. Not until you understand why you shouldn’t tell them what you know.”

These words had stuck in the back of her mind. When she had seen the heading, she had hoped to find a clue to this riddle. But there were so many unfamiliar words that she could not grasp the meaning, no matter how many times she read it. Still, she had understood one thing. Poison changes body odor. The book had said that you could identify what poison had killed someone by smelling the person’s mouth. This made her think. Her mother had told the inspector that the Toda had died of poisoning. Perhaps the poison had caused their smell to change. She was just starting to think this over when Joeun had returned. She could not tell him why she had chosen this particular book to read, so instead, she kept her head bowed silently.

Joeun closed the book with a snap. “Do you want to learn how to read this kind of thing?”

Elin’s heart gave a great thump, and she raised her face abruptly. “Yes.”

He gazed at her steadily and then smiled. “All right then. I’ll teach you whenever we have a break in our work.”

At one time in his life, Joeun had thought that there was no greater joy than teaching an uneducated child who was so much slower than his classmates that he was convinced he was a failure, and seeing his eyes light up with comprehension and the realization that he could do it after all. When he began to teach Elin, however, he discovered another joy: that of teaching a child with extraordinary potential.

In addition to living creatures and books, Elin discovered yet another passion—the harp. One day when they went into town to buy supplies for the summer, they came across a band of traveling musicians who visited a few times a year. They were just setting up their instruments on a rug spread out under the bright blue sky. “Would you like to stay and listen for a bit?” Joeun asked. Elin looked up at him and nodded.

The troupe gave a fine performance, presenting a repertoire that ranged from melancholy love songs to dance tunes. Elin listened as if entranced. As they walked along the mountain path toward home, Totchi bearing their luggage, she began singing one of the love songs the musicians had performed. “Frogs chirrup in the moonlit night, in the dawn mist the bird’s song flows, oh how it flows, disturbing the still night…” As the song reached its climax, Elin sang soulfully, “Don’t weep, dawn bird, don’t weep, for I’ll recall your voice from last night…”

“Elin, do you understand what that song means?”

“He’s asking the bird not to cry, right?”

Joeun choked on a laugh and shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “You’ll understand soon enough … Everyone knows that song around here, but I didn’t realize it was popular in Aluhan territory, too.”

Elin blinked. “Really? I never heard it before.”

Joeun looked at her in surprise. “What? But you were just singing it.”

Elin frowned, obviously confused. “Because I heard them sing it.”

“You can sing a song you’ve only heard once?”

Elin did not know what to say. That particular song had stayed with her because it had been pleasing to her ear, but whether she could remember any song in the same way, she was not sure. As they walked along, Joeun kept glancing at her as if thinking about something. As soon as they reached home, he opened a cupboard and pulled out a small harp.

“I haven’t taken this out for some time…” he muttered. He plucked the strings one by one, listening intently and loosening or tightening the small screws on the frame. Finally, he nodded to himself and then looked at Elin. “Do you know this song?” he asked. The tune he played conjured up an image of gentle spring sunlight. She shook her head.

“No, I never heard it before.”

“No? It’s a nice tune though, isn’t it?”

Her eyes shining, Elin said, “Yes … And you play really well!”

Joeun laughed. “I fell in love with the harp when I was twelve. My father permitted me to play as a hobby, but when I stopped being content with merely playing and began learning to build my own harps from an instrument maker, he put his foot down, demanding to know if I planned to become a musician. This harp is one that I made. It has a good sound, doesn’t it?”

Elin nodded. Joeun strummed the harp, effortlessly plucking out light reels that made her want to dance and tunes that made her think of gazing up at the moon in the night sky. She leaned forward eagerly, moving her head in time to the music and humming along.

“Elin, try humming this one,” Joeun said. He played the song that he had played first, the one that made her think of spring sunlight. When he finished, Elin hummed the tune perfectly from beginning to end. Joeun was amazed. What surprised him most was not the fact that she could hum a song that she had only heard twice, but that she reproduced the notes in the same pitch as he had played them, without any trace of hesitation or uncertainty. Joeun’s harp teacher had once praised him for having an excellent ear for music, but Elin’s sense of pitch clearly surpassed his own.

From that day on, he began to teach her the harp. Just as he had expected, she proved to have an exceptional ear for music and the ability to reproduce a tune accurately after hearing it only once. However, her ability did not extend to composing new pieces of music. She was drawn not to composing music but to creating sounds. She was fascinated by the fact that the sound of the harp changed subtly depending on how it was strung, the type of wood used, and the shape of the instrument.

When Joeun taught her the basics of harp making, she threw herself into making harps of all shapes and sizes out of different kinds of wood. Of course, she could not make harps as exquisite as those of an instrument maker, but her enthusiasm for harp making was to last for many years.

2

THE SUMMER SHACK

Summer arrived. The shadows of the trees stood out starkly in the bright sunlight and cicadas sang from dawn to dusk. Joeun lived in the highlands, higher than the village where Elin had lived with her mother, and the dry air and cooler evenings made summer much more pleasant. One day, after the saloh flowers by the lake had faded and the yellow nosan flowers that had blanketed the fields were beginning to fall, Joeun went to the nearest farm and borrowed a horse. He and the farmer had a long-standing agreement that once the farmer’s wheat had been harvested and the next crop of beans had been planted, Joeun could rent the horse until the fall.

Upon his return, Joeun uncovered a cart that had been securely wrapped in waterproof cloth, brought it out into the sunlight, and began cleaning it. Just then, Elin ran up. “Did you finish taking care of Noro and Totchi?” Joeun asked. When she nodded, he handed her a rag. “In that case, help me clean this thing. If you notice any loose or twisted boards, let me know.”

Nodding once again, Elin clambered inside and began rubbing the sides of the cart with the rag. The bed of the cart was far longer than those she was used to seeing. “What are you going to put in here?” she asked.

“All of the hives, along with our food and bedding.”

Elin paused to stare at him. “What? Are we going somewhere?”

Joeun grinned. “We’re going to follow the flowers. All the way up the mountain. I have a summer shack about three-quarters of the way up. In summer, the slopes are covered in flowers like fujak and sasha. It’s quite spectacular.” Seeing her face light up, he continued, “At least that will give you something to look forward to while you work. We have an awful lot to do before we go!”

It was only at dawn five days later that they finished closing up the house and loading the cart with all the hives and luggage. After hitching up Totchi and the other horse, Joeun began leading them along the mountain trail, through the morning mist. Elin followed after the cart, herding the goat, Noro, ahead of her with a small switch. Their pace was fairly slow as they had to be careful not to jar the hives too much. Although the trail was covered in summer grass and shaded by trees, Elin was soon drenched in sweat. Gnats tried to crawl into her eyes and mosquitoes hovered around her sweat-soaked skin with a high whining sound.

They had covered the hives with wire net so that air could pass through, but Joeun still sprayed the hives frequently with water to keep them from getting too hot inside. When they came to a spring burbling from the rocks, Joeun stopped the cart. Elin cupped the water in her hands and gulped it down. It was so cold it numbed her fingers, but she felt much refreshed after washing her hands and splashing her neck. When she ducked her head under the stream of water and then shook her dripping hair, Joeun laughed. “Just like a pup. How about behaving a little more gracefully? You’re a girl after all.”

Elin grinned and shook her head vigorously. “I’d rather be a puppy.”

Smiling, Joeun looked at his little charge, with her darkly tanned skin and stick-like limbs. He could not braid her hair, so he had cut it at collar length, which made her look like a boy. “You’re impossible!” His heart filled with tenderness. What a priceless gift he had been given.

They continued along the mountain trail, stopping occasionally to rest. It was not until the sun began sinking low in the sky and the orange-tinged light slanting through the branches struck the trunks of the trees that they stumbled out into the open. Elin gasped in wonder. Before her stretched a gentle slope carpeted in a profusion of colorful flowers that finally dropped away into nothingness. Rosy clouds drifted slowly by, grazing the edge of the cliff. A hush fell as the cart came to a standstill. The only noise to be heard was the soft rustle of grasses swaying in the wind and flowers brushing against one another. Beyond the deep valley that lay beneath the meadow, the snow-capped peaks of the Afon Noah soared. Standing in the field, where only the voice of the wind could be heard, Elin felt as though she had wandered into another world.

“Let’s get a move on,” Joeun said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not much farther.”

The summer shack was less than half the size of the house Joeun lived in from fall to spring. The boards he had tacked over the door last fall were still in place, undisturbed by animals. “Here we are at last,” he said. He pounded his back with his fist and then stretched his arms above his head. “After you’ve put the animals in the pen, look after the horses. I’ll set up the hives and then unboard the door and sweep out the chimney.”

“All right.”

Nights on the mountain were chilly, even in midsummer, and Joeun knew they wouldn’t be able to sleep without a fire going in the hearth. But as birds frequently roosted in unused chimneys, his first task was to clean out any nests. Although he had always been strong and healthy, this annual move was exhausting and from the age of fifty-five, it had begun to drain his strength more every year. Last year he had been too tired to sweep out the chimney and had just wrapped himself in a blanket for the night. That wouldn’t do this time, though, not with Elin here. He endured this hardship each summer not just to get more honey, but because he liked this place.

I wonder how many more years I’ll be able to do this.

Gazing out over the meadow bathed in the light of sunset, he felt some of his fatigue lift. Rainfall had been plentiful this year, and the field was thick with flowers. The bees would gather lots of nectar. This year he intended not only to make honey, but also to collect herbs for medicine.

Once he had found chigo growing on this very mountain. The root of the plant was a miracle cure for inflammations of the internal organs, and it brought a high price because it only grew in steep, inaccessible ravines. The place where he had seen it was a sheer bluff, and he would have to be very careful if he were to gather any. One slip and he’d be at the bottom of the valley. Wild Toda lived in the river that flowed through it. Of course, if he fell, he would be dead anyway. Still, it was worth trying. Just one small chigo root would bring him a large gold piece.

Until now, he had only had to feed himself. When he grew too old to move, he had thought that he would just lie down in this meadow to die while watching the clouds drift in the sky above. But now there was Elin. In six or seven years, she might marry. She would need a proper dowry if she were to wed into a good family, and clothes and furniture to start a new household.

Even as this thought passed through his head, however, something told him that she would never live the life of a normal girl. She was too unusual. He had become even more aware of this when he had begun teaching her to read. If only she were a boy … he thought … and not part Ahlyo. Then he could have used his connections from the past to get her a place at the school in the capital. Every time he thought about how her potential might blossom with a proper education, he was overcome with frustration … But I’ll have to worry about that later. Either way, he would need money. He did not mind this. In fact, the thought gave him energy and drive. The desire to set her on the road to happiness consumed him, just like it had when he had cradled his own child in his arms for the first time.

Their days in the summer shack passed quietly and midsummer approached. One evening as they were eating dinner, Joeun said, “You’re used to living here now. You won’t mind if I go away for a day or so, will you?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Good then. I’ll leave the place in your hands tomorrow. Be sure to take good care of it.”

“Of course.”

Joeun raised his eyebrows. “Nicely said … but don’t you try touching the bees just because I’m not here to see you.” She started, and he frowned sternly. “Did you think I didn’t notice? I’ve no idea why you would even want to, but you’re just dying to touch one, aren’t you? I’ve seen you squatting in front of the hive debating whether to reach out a finger or not. Some people have died just because they’ve been stung, you know. Don’t take it lightly, you understand?”

“Yes.” Elin bowed her head, rubbing her thumb against her forefinger.

If he knew that she had already been stung, she thought, he would really scold her. The short bristles covering the honeybees were so even they looked like they had been cropped with a razor. Longing to know if they felt soft or coarse to the touch, she had reached out ever so carefully to gently stroke one. But as soon as she had touched it, it had buzzed into the air and stung her forefinger … How it had hurt! And the pain did not ease no matter how she licked it or sucked on it.

That in itself had been hard enough to bear, but the worst part had been finding a stinger-less bee dead upon the ground when she went out the next morning. Joeun had told her that a honeybee dies after it stings, but it was only when she saw the little corpse lying motionless on the grass that she had understood what it really meant. She could not name the feeling that rose in her breast. It was as if a tiny hole had pierced her heart and a cold wind blew through it. She had stood for a long time staring at the tiny body while the other bees, apparently oblivious to their sister’s death, flitted about.

Joeun watched Elin as she sat frowning, her head bowed. “You sometimes do the craziest things, you know. Leaving you behind on your own makes me quite nervous. Ah! One more thing! Don’t you dare crawl under Totchi’s belly.” Elin flinched at this. When she had heard that Totchi was a mare, she had crawled underneath her, wondering if she had an udder that could be milked. But she had no idea that Joeun had seen her. “Totchi is docile. That’s why you weren’t kicked, but even Totchi will kick and buck if a fly bites her in the wrong place.” He peered into her face. “Elin, look at me.” She raised her head. “Listen,” he said, gently but sternly. “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.”

As she listened to his words, Elin was overcome by a strange sensation. Her mother, she remembered, had said something very similar.

“Do you understand?” Joeun demanded.

“Yes.”

He nodded and his expression softened. “All right then, tomorrow I’m leaving the place in your charge.” He took some cheese from a wooden plate, stuck it on a stick, and began to toast it in the fire.

Watching him, Elin asked, “Where are you going?”

“Hmm? Oh, I’m going to look for herbs.”

“Herbs? Aren’t you feeling well?”

He smiled. “No, no, not for me. I’m going to sell them. Have you ever heard of chigo root?”

Elin shook her head.

“It’s great for curing inflammations of the internal organs. A root this big”—he made a small space between his thumb and his forefinger—“sells for one large gold piece.”

“Really? A whole gold piece!”

Joeun laughed and skewered another lump of cheese on a stick. “Yes, really. That’s a pretty good price, wouldn’t you say? Mind you, chigo is tricky to get because it grows in deep ravines where it ‘thrives on the breath of the Toda,’ as they say. It might take me more than a day to get some, so don’t worry if I’m not back by nightfall tomorrow.” Having stuck the skewers into the hearth, he raised his face to look at her and stopped in surprise. She was staring at him, her face bloodless. “What’s wrong? Do you feel sick or something?”

Elin shook her head. In a faint voice, she finally managed to say, “You’re … going to where there are Toda?”

Joeun blinked and looked at her for some time. Then he raised his brows and smiled. “So that’s it. You’re worried about me. Well, thank you. But there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m used to hiking around here, and I won’t be going down into the valley. So just relax and take care of the house for me.”

Elin nodded, but the fear that rose inside her like a dark cloud could not be banished by his words. The smell of Toda filled her nostrils, and the writhing swarm of Toda swallowing her mother filled her sight. Joeun went to bed soon after, intending to rise early the next morning, but although she lay down, Elin could not sleep. Even if he didn’t plan to climb down into the valley, what if he slipped?

Then he would be taken by her greatest fear. He would be killed in no time, just like her mother. Her mother. Who she had thought would be with her, always.

What if he doesn’t come back? A trembling spread from the pit of her stomach and seized her body.

3

THE SOARING BEAST

Joeun rose just as the dark sky paled toward dawn and dressed quietly so as not to wake Elin.

Lying motionless in her bed with her eyes closed, Elin listened to the faint sounds of his movements. Finally, he shouldered his pack and went out the door. No sooner did she hear the door click shut than Elin threw back the covers and leapt out of bed. She moved swiftly, following a plan she had worked out during the night. As soon as she had dressed, she grabbed the remaining cheese and fahko from last night’s supper off the shelf and shoved them into a pack. Throwing this over her shoulder, she stealthily opened the latch.

It was not yet fully light, but she could make out the black shape of Joeun in the distance as he walked through the bluish darkness. She hurried after him. The first part of the journey was through the meadow and if he turned around, he would see her. But she would worry about that when it happened.

If he had not been thinking about something else, Joeun would probably have sensed that he was being followed. But as he walked along the rugged mountain trail down toward the valley, his thoughts were far away.

I wonder if Elin was ever attacked by Toda … Her face had been so pale when she had asked if he was going to where there were Toda. He had assumed she was worried about his safety, but in retrospect there must be more to it than that. When he had found her lying on the lakeshore, she had been caked in a glue-like mud that reeked of Toda. Anyone who got close enough to get that coated in slime ought to have been eaten alive. Anyone but a Rider, that is. He frowned at this thought. Wait a minute. That’s a possibility I hadn’t considered.

Although the Yojeh did not own such base creatures as the Toda, he had heard that the Aluhan, the Grand Duke, who was not bound by sacred rules, had skilled beast handlers called Toda Stewards to raise and train them. She came from Aluhan territory and she seems to be from the skilled classes … Was she the child of a Steward? But the Toda Stewards swore allegiance to the Aluhan alone. Surely they would never mix blood with an Ahlyo. Oh dear, that child remains a mystery.

Morning came, but it was a dark day. Heavy clouds flowed across the sky. His prayers that it would not rain must have fallen on deaf ears, for by the time he neared the ravine, large drops had begun to fall. In moments, it was pouring as if someone had upended a barrel in the heavens. He fled into the shelter of a large tree and wondered whether he should turn back or not. If it had continued to rain, he would have given up and gone home. But the downpour gradually dwindled to a gentle drizzle tapping on the leaves, the clouds lifted, and the summer sun showed its face at last. The soggy ground would hamper his footing, but it seemed too much trouble to turn back after coming all this way. He swung his pack onto his shoulder and returned to the trail, wiping away large drops of water that slipped from the leaves of the trees onto his face.

The rustling of a bird or animal in the brush behind him caught his attention. Wildlife must be on the move again after the storm, he thought. In addition to the pack slung over his shoulder, he carried a small pouch tied to his waist, and from this he pulled a pungent fruit, the strong odor of which repelled most wild creatures. He squished it in his hand and rubbed the juice on his clothes. The smell conjured up the face of the old man who had generously shared his knowledge, teaching Joeun everything from beekeeping to walking the mountains. Without him, Joeun doubted that he could have made a living as a beekeeper. He offered a silent prayer for the repose of the man’s soul and set off again.

At last, the forest came to an end and a deep ravine appeared ahead. The cliff had been hollowed out so that it curved like a deep bowl, far below which ran a muddy river. It must have rained at the headwaters, for the river was fuller than he remembered. He walked slowly along the edge of the cliff, thick with grasses, looking carefully for each foothold.

Last year, he had come out of curiosity, wondering if any valuable herbs grew here. When he had chanced to see chigo blooming at the base of a large soshu tree halfway down the cliff, it had already been dusk and there had not been enough light for him to find his way down. Besides, the spot where the plant grew was impossible to reach without a rope, and he had not thought gathering the root to be worth the effort.

This time, however, he had come for the express purpose of collecting the plant and was better prepared. The soshu was just where he remembered, and he put down his pack and took out a sturdy rope. Wrapping one end around the trunk of a firmly rooted tree and securing it tightly, he tied a small stone to the other end and threw it toward the soshu tree. It fell among the bamboo grass. Joeun grasped the rope and began climbing backward down the cliff, placing his feet carefully. He had descended about twenty paces when suddenly the rock beneath his right foot crumbled, followed almost immediately by the rock under his left foot. With his hands still clinging tightly to the rope, his body swung hard against the cliff, knocking the wind out of him. Pain seared his hands where the rope burned, and he let go with a cry. He began sliding down the rock face, his belly scraping against stone. Reaching out to grasp a bush, he smashed his chin on a branch instead. Sparks filled his eyes. Losing consciousness, he slid helplessly down the cliff.

Something touched his chin, and a sharp pain shot through his head. He groaned and opened his eyes. His blurred vision cleared, and he saw Elin’s worried face, streaked with mud and tears, peering down at him. “Joeun! Joeun!”

He gazed up at her blankly for a moment and then opened his mouth to speak, only to feel pain racing through his jaw. He reached up automatically to touch it, but a little hand caught his own and held it firm. “Don’t! You’ve got a bad cut there, so don’t touch it.” She pushed against his hand with all her strength.

Joeun moved his lips gingerly, tears starting in his eyes. “Where am I?”

“Halfway down the cliff,” Elin answered, choking back sobs. “So please don’t move … There’s a ledge here, but there’s only enough room for the two of us. Whatever you do, don’t move!”

With his eyes, he told her he had understood. Her lips began to tremble, and she burst into tears. “I thought … you were dead!” Relief washed through her, releasing all the fear and adrenalin inside her. Shaking violently, she threw her head back and wailed, and as she did so, the terror that had gripped her gradually lessened its hold. After weeping until she had no more tears left, she took a deep breath and wiped her face vigorously. Looking into Joeun’s face again, she asked, “Are … Are you all right?”

Once again, he answered with his eyes. He hurt all over, but judging from the fact that he could wiggle his fingers and toes, he had not injured his spine or broken any bones. His wits had returned, and he now realized his predicament. He may not have broken any bones, but his legs and back had taken a beating. He wouldn’t be able to climb the cliff for a while. He must have lain unconscious for some time. The sun was already starting to set. Trying to move his arm, he noticed for the first time that he was covered in a blanket.

“What’s … this?”

“Your blanket. It was rolled up under a tree, so I tied it to my back before I climbed down.”

“You … what?”

“It’s not that heavy. I brought food and water, too.” She raised a flask and smiled proudly, crumpling her tearstained face. Joeun had had no idea she was following him, but now he was glad that she had.

“Can … you … climb up … the rope?” he murmured, trying not to move his jaw. Elin nodded. “Take the blanket … and sleep under … the tree … at the top … It’ll be … dark soon.”

Elin shook her head. “No. I’m staying with you.”

“Stupid … It’s too … narrow … What if … you fall?”

“I won’t. It’s wide enough.”

He gave up and let her have her way. The temperature dropped rapidly as the sun set. Even though Elin covered both of them from head to foot in the blanket and pressed her body close, it was too cold to sleep soundly. Many times Joeun woke in the night and each time Elin helped him up so that he could relieve himself. Each time he stood up, agony shot through his back and legs. Even worse than the pain, however, was the fear of falling from the ledge. In the darkness, he could not see where the rock shelf ended. How he wished he could sleep through until morning.

As the long night drew to a close and dawn was just beginning to break, Elin started awake, disturbed by a familiar musk-like odor. At first, she thought it must be the old nightmare that haunted her mind, but when she poked her head out of the blanket she knew it was no dream. The scent of Toda pervaded the icy dawn air. Fear strangled her, and her pulse raced. Gently, so as not to wake Joeun, she moved her head and looked over the edge, but all she could see was a rock ledge like this one farther down the cliff. In the dimness, she could just make out the dark shadows of some bushes and a few logs, probably washed up by the surging river, lying on the ledge. Yet each puff of wind carried the distinctive scent of Toda.

Suddenly, something moved at the edge of her vision. Casting her eyes in that direction, she froze. Faintly but surely, she saw one of the logs moving. Her spine grew cold. They were not logs after all. They were Toda: three of them … What, she wondered, could they be after?

As she watched, they began inching slowly but steadily toward what appeared to be a thicket of brush. Squinting, she saw something stirring inside it. What on earth could it be? An animal? Or perhaps a hatchling? That must be it. It wasn’t brush but a bird’s nest.

As soon as she recognized the nest for what it was, she realized something very odd. Toda were huge beasts, large enough for a Warrior to ride. Having ridden one herself, she knew that their heads were as big as her body. Yet the hatchling in that nest was far larger than any Toda head. Could there really be a bird that big? She had never seen even a full-grown bird larger than herself, let alone a hatchling. And this definitely appeared to be a baby. Although it flapped its wings occasionally, its movements were still clumsy and immature.

Where was its mother? By now, the Toda had crept very close. Soon they would pounce upon the hatchling and rend it from head to foot. Elin grimaced. Her heart went out to it. It was only a baby. How awful to die like that … She longed to do something, but she knew only too well that she could not stop Toda just by throwing stones at them. They reared their heads and poised to strike.

It’ll be killed! She screwed her eyes shut.

At that moment, a piercing whistle split the air. The complex modulation of notes reminded Elin of a finger flute. She jerked her head up to gaze toward the sound. Although the sky was still a deep ultramarine, sunlight rimmed the mountain peaks above in a halo of pale gold. In the midst of that light, a dark speck appeared and hurtled downward, gliding on giant wings. Still whistling, it swooped past her head, casting a dark shadow.

Elin stared so intently that she forgot to blink or even to breathe as she branded its shape on her brain. It was no bird. Gigantic wings, as wide in span as the rock ledge, needle-sharp fur of dazzling silver, a fearless wolf-like face, huge, sharp-clawed feet …

A gust of wind stirred by the creature’s wings swept up Joeun’s blanket, and Elin grabbed it hastily. The winged beast sped smoothly through space, sinking down upon the Toda. To her astonishment, the Toda had turned away from the nest and rolled onto their backs with their bellies exposed, as if to say, “Here I am. Eat me.” Then followed the strangest hunt she had ever seen.

Not once did the Toda raise their heads, even when the beast attacked. Snatching one in its jaws, like an eagle scooping up a snake in its beak, the creature tore it to shreds. Toda scales were impervious to arrows, yet the beast’s fangs bit through them as if they were made of soft leather. In moments, all three Toda had been ripped to pieces.

Caught in a shaft of morning light that passed over the mountain ridge, the beast blazed silver. Elin stared transfixed at the godlike figure feasting on Toda as if they were sacrificial offerings.

And that song … She remembered her mother placing her fingers against her lips and whistling a melody that was now imprinted indelibly on her memory. The beast’s song had sounded so similar. Why had the Toda responded like that? If that sound could control them, then why didn’t they close their earflaps to block it out? Or did the sound penetrate through their mouths even when their earflaps were closed?

Once it had finished eating, the creature began preening its fur just like a cat, rubbing its bloodied muzzle against its breast. Then it folded its wings. At that moment, a strange sound, like that of a harp being strummed, reached Elin on the wind. Lon-lon-lon … It must be the creature’s cub. The baby flapped its wings in appeal and cried again. The mother beast responded with the same harp-like sound. Lo, lolon, lolon. Then it walked over to the nest, opened its mouth, and began feeding its young. The tenderness with which it folded the cub within its wings and fed it was a far cry from the fierceness with which it had devoured the Toda.

Joeun sat up slowly behind her. “Joeun,” she whispered. He nodded and peered carefully over the edge.

“A wild Royal Beast.”

“Really?” Elin stared at it, fascinated. So this was the Sacred Beast that the gods had bestowed on the Yojeh as a sign of her royal sovereignty. Elin had heard that many of these Royal Beasts were raised under the protection of the Yojeh. If their number decreased, it was believed that disaster would overtake the land.

“Yes. That’s a Royal Beast,” Joeun murmured. “I’ve seen them in the capital … But I never thought that I would see one in the wild. They’re very rare, and I’ve heard their numbers are declining because they only bear one offspring at a time. Yet for some reason the ones raised under the care of the Yojeh never bear young. They have to capture cubs in the wild and bring them to the Royal Garden to maintain their numbers.” He sighed. “I wonder how on earth they manage to take them from under the wings of such fearsome mothers as that.”

By noon, Joeun had regained quite a bit of movement. Although steep, the cliff face was not vertical, and he could climb it using the rope if he went one step at a time. Elin went first to find footholds, and Joeun followed after, placing each foot where she had shown him. When they reached the top, the relief was so great that they both shook from head to foot. Feeling exhausted and lethargic, they packed up and silently headed home.

As they walked along the narrow trail, Elin’s thoughts remained fixed on the Royal Beast, on its bright silver body glinting in the sunlight, on its song that reminded her of her mother’s finger flute. It used it to immobilize the Toda. Does the Royal Beast’s song freeze Toda, just like the Rider’s soundless whistle? No. It wasn’t the same. When the Riders blew their Silent Whistles, the Toda turned as stiff as logs. They didn’t turn over and lie defenseless, exposing their bellies like that. In her mind, Elin saw her mother whistling through her fingers. The Toda had stopped instantly, en masse, and looked at her intently, like loyal hounds listening to their master. Then one of them had swum up, as if obediently following her orders, and had let Elin ride him when her mother had hoisted her onto its back. Her mother had manipulated the Toda with her finger flute … And the Beast had manipulated the Toda with its song.

Were the sounds it made like a language to the Toda? She suddenly remembered that the morning the Kiba had died, the other Toda had whistled for a long time. That sound, too, had resembled the finger flute. Both her mother and the Royal Beast had used complex modulations … If that was the language of the Toda, could she, too, make them obey her by reproducing the same sounds? A shiver ran down her spine.

If I could make the Toda obey me by whistling … If I could do the same thing my mother did … Could I control the Toda?

She tripped over a root and almost fell, returning with a jolt to reality. Joeun turned to look back at her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. Seeing his pale face, she thought he should be worrying about himself, not her. “Do your legs hurt?”

Joeun gave a short laugh. “My legs hurt. My back hurts. My jaw hurts … I hurt all over, but there’s no way I want to spend another night out in the open. Tonight I’m going to curl up in my nice warm bed and sleep soundly.”

He turned around and began walking again. Following behind, Elin let her thoughts return to her mother; to the smell of waterweeds in Lagoh Marsh; to her mother’s cold cheek pressed against hers in the frigid waters as she held her tight.

Whenever she felt lonely, Elin recalled this scene, as if pulling it out of her breast pocket to look at it. But something about it had always bothered her. Her mother’s face before she blew the finger flute. Clearly she had been torn, frowning as she struggled to decide. Then, as if pushing her doubts away, she had said, “Elin, you must never do what I am going to do now. To do so is to commit a mortal sin.” And placing her fingers to her mouth, she had commanded the Toda with her music and saved Elin’s life.

But what sin had her mother forbidden her to commit? Had she meant that Elin must not try to control the Toda with the finger flute? If so, why? Why was that such a terrible crime? Her mother had hesitated to use it even to save Elin’s life … Anguish spread through her chest. In the end she chose to save me. Yet her hesitation, however slight, showed how great a sin it must be …

Each time Elin reached this conclusion, the question that she had tried so hard to bury in the depths of her heart raised its head. Her mother could control the Toda. If so, then she must have been able to save her own life, too. Then why did she choose instead to give herself to the serpents? Why had she chosen death instead of life together with Elin? She desperately wanted to believe that this wasn’t true. But no matter how she suppressed it, she could not banish this thought from her mind.

She sighed. There were so many things she wanted to ask. Her mother had left so many unanswered riddles. She wanted to understand what her mother had meant, to know why she had done what she did. Then her memories would no longer be clouded by cold strands of doubt; then she could love her mother without question …

The image of the beautiful Royal Beast tenderly cradling its cub under its wing rose into her mind. As it swooped down from the heavens, had it hesitated to control the Toda in order to save its young?

Such were her thoughts as she gazed up into the sky softly tinged with twilight.