Seirei no Moribito - Volume 1 - Chapter 2.1

PART 2: RARUNGA 
CHAPTER I: TANDA, THE HEALER 

For a long time, Balsa remained in darkness. She was vaguely aware of her body, which at times shook violently, riven by freezing cold, and at times burned with a heat that made her pant for breath; and always it ached with a dull pain. Through snatches of consciousness she felt herself being lifted, and later glimpsed the flickering flame of a candle in the dark. She remembered a searing agony that shot across her stomach and arm, making her cry out. 
When she finally came to, she did not know where she was, what year it was, or even why she was wounded. Her eyes fell on a man dozing by her bedside, his arms folded across his chest and his face lit by the pale afternoon sun. 
“Tanda?” she whispered hoarsely, and he opened his eyes with a start. He was a kind-looking man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. His dark, almost black skin contrasted with his brown, unruly hair, and his eyes were filled with a soft light, with fine lines at their corners. 
“So you’re awake, are you?” 
“Did Jiguro beat me again?” 
Tanda’s eyes widened a little. The pain must have jolted Balsa back to childhood, when her foster father, Jiguro, trained her so mercilessly he often knocked her out. “You’ve been badly hurt. Your injuries must have confused your mind. Jiguro died a long time ago, remember? We watched him breathe his last.” 
Tears welled in Balsa’s eyes. “Jiguro … died? Ah, now I remember …” She closed her eyes for a moment and saw him in her mind: so fearsomely strong and strict, yet kind and gentle too, for he had saved her from being murdered and raised her with affection. 
She took the bowl of water Tanda held out for her and gulped it down. A boy edged himself in beside Tanda and peered into her face with a look of deep concern. “Chagum?” Balsa said tentatively. Memory came flooding back. “Oh no! How long was I out for? Tanda, there’s something I have to tell you. Some men are after him and —” 
Tanda gestured for her to be quiet. “It’s all right. I know. Chagum’s a brave kid, and smart too — though I admit I was surprised when he staggered in here all scratched up and out of breath! That was the first thing he told me, that he was being pursued. So I was very careful not to leave any traces when I went to get you. There was no sign of anyone around, and I erased the trail of blood you left so they couldn’t follow it. You can relax.” 
Balsa frowned. “How can you be so sure? You were always hopeless at martial arts. Maybe you missed the signs.” 
“Stupid! You know I’m better than any warrior at tracking. And before you start criticizing, you could show a little gratitude. After all, I gave you those seventeen stitches in your stomach, plus the eight in your left arm, not to mention tidying up that wound on your shoulder…. Just how many times are you going to make me sew you back together again?” 
He was smiling, and Balsa laughed weakly. “I don’t know,” she said. Relieved, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep. 
The next time she woke it was already dark. The room was filled with a delicious scent and the comforting sound of food simmering over a fire. She turned her head slightly and saw a pot hanging over the hearth in the center of the wooden floor. Tanda raised the lid and nodded as he looked inside, then took some mushrooms from a sieve beside him. 
Chagum leaned over to peer at what was in his hands. “Tell me what those are,” he said. 
“Kankui. They’re a type of mushroom. They give the broth a rich flavor but turn bitter if cooked too long. The trick is to add them just before you take the pot from the fire.” 
“They smell delicious!” Chagum exclaimed. 
Balsa smiled. It looked like Chagum was learning how to make Tanda’s specialty, a stew made from wild mountain vegetables. He looked as excited and happy as any other boy, and she realized how tense he must have been until now. Thank God those men didn’t catch him, she thought fervently. 
“See? What did I tell you? Your Auntie Tomboy has woken up. I said she’d wake up as soon as she smelled food. She hasn’t changed a bit.” 
Chagum looked over at her. She saw the relief in his eyes, and it warmed her heart. 
“Balsa, are you all right? Do your wounds hurt?” 
“Of course they hurt! But I’ll be fine. They’ll heal quickly.” 
Tanda took a wooden spoon and stirred the stew, then removed the pot from the hearth. He stood up with a grunt and came over to Balsa, deftly raising her to a sitting position, then slipped a rolled bearskin between her back and the wall so she could lean against it. Balsa looked up at him. “How long was I out?” 
“Not that long. Two nights. I finished treating your wounds at dawn on the first night. I should be able to remove the stitches in about five days. Knowing you, it could be even sooner.” He passed Chagum a steaming bowl of stew poured over hot rice and barley, then brought one to Balsa. “Would you like me to feed you?” 
“No, I think I can manage.” Her left arm hurt, as was only to be expected, but for Balsa, it was not a bad injury. She had had more than enough injuries in her life to accurately judge how long a wound would take to heal. 
The savory mushroom-flavored soup was hot and delicious. Tanda seemed to have a knack for making people feel comfortable, and Chagum was chattering away, much more vocal than she had ever seen him before. 
“You know, it is strange, but the food commoners eat seems to taste far better than the food we ate in the palace. I wonder why.” 
“I wonder. Must be because it’s hot and fresh. I’ve never lived in a palace, mind you, but I would guess that you have food tasters and other rituals, so by the time the meal gets to you it’s probably cold.” 
“Of course! You are correct. I have never eaten food like this, served to me straight from the pot.” 
As she listened to them, Balsa made a mental note to train Chagum to speak less formally. Nothing ever fazed Tanda, but any ordinary person who heard him talk would stare at him in surprise and wonder what noble family he came from. 
After dinner, while sipping tea brewed from ramon leaves, Balsa told Tanda everything that had happened. He listened without interrupting, nodding occasionally, but his intent expression grew grimmer as the tale continued. When she had finished, he said bluntly, “Balsa. That’s Nyunga Ro Im.” 
“What?” 
“That — thing — in the boy, it’s Nyunga Ro Im, or at least, that’s what the Yakoo call it. It means the Water Guardian. You said that in his sleep he starts walking toward water, right? That you saw a blue light coming from him and the water in the river changed?” 
“Yes, it seems to happen when he’s asleep or unconscious. Did you notice anything like that in the last two nights?” 
“No. Nothing. Maybe we’re too far from the river.” 
Chagum was listening to their conversation with a frown. 
“And what is this Nyunga-whatever? Is it some kind of river spirit?” Balsa asked. 
“I don’t know much about it myself. But surely you’ve heard the legend of Torugaru, the Mikado’s sacred ancestor, and how he founded this country by slaying a water demon.” 
“Yes, I know the story. But he killed the demon, didn’t he? So how could it show up now?” 
Tanda started to speak and then hesitated. “It’s rather complicated.” 
“That’s okay. Tell me what you know. It’s going to be a long night anyway.” 
Tanda had been gazing steadily at Chagum, but he nodded as if he had made a decision. “Chagum, what I am about to say may make you angry, but you have to know sometime. Will you be patient and hear me out?” 
Although he looked anxious, Chagum nodded. 
“All right then. Long, long ago, only the Yakoo lived in this land. They knew that there were two worlds, the one that we can see, called Sagu, and another, invisible world, called Nayugu. I want you to understand that this is not the world that the Yogoese call the ‘Other World’ — it isn’t heaven or hell, where the souls of the dead go. Sagu and Nayugu exist together in the same place, here, now. You see? 
“The most important thing to understand is that these two worlds are interconnected, each supporting the other, although not even the Yakoo are sure how. But there is one thing they know for certain, and you must remember this well. There lives in Nayugu a creature capable of changing the weather in both worlds. The Yakoo believe that once every hundred years, this creature lays an egg. The year after that there is a bad drought. If the egg doesn’t hatch by the full moon of the summer solstice, the drought will continue and bring on disaster. 
“There is another important point to this story. For some reason, this creature, which the Yakoo call Nyunga Ro Im, lays its egg in a creature of Sagu.” 
Balsa and Chagum gaped at him. “Do you mean to say that this Nyunga Ro Im has laid an egg in Chagum?” she breathed. 

Chagum pressed both hands to his chest and looked like he was going to be sick. He stood up suddenly and dashed outside. Tanda followed him, and after a few moments, they returned together, Chagum looking very pale. Tanda rubbed his back gently with one large hand. 
“I’m sorry,” he said to the boy. “It’s not a very pleasant story for you. But I want you to know that the Yakoo regard Nyunga Ro Im as something very special. The child chosen to bear the egg was known as the Nyunga Ro Chaga, the Guardian of the Spirit — or as you would call it, the Moribito. The child was always protected very carefully.” 
“But Tanda, wait a minute,” Balsa said. “That’s very different from the legend of Mikado Torugaru conquering the water spirit. In that story, the child’s parents wept because the child who bore the water spirit would die, and they begged Torugaru to kill the monster. Isn’t that right?” 
Tanda looked troubled. “That’s what I meant when I said my story might make Chagum angry.” 
“Oh, I see.” Balsa nodded. 
Chagum, pale-faced, glared at her indignantly. “What do you see? I will not become angry. Tell me.” 
Balsa sighed. “Chagum, no matter where you go, you’ll find that people in high positions like to make themselves look good. A general, for example, must always be a hero, because who will respect him if he is a coward? I’ve traveled to many countries and heard many stories, and a victory in battle is always the general’s, even when it’s won by the hard work of ordinary soldiers. And when time passes, these stories often develop into legends.” 
“So, you are saying that our sacred ancestor, the first Mikado, also told such lies?” Chagum asked sternly. 
Balsa hesitated and glanced at Tanda. The boy was wiser than his eleven years, and therefore the pain the truth would cause him would be deeper. But she was sure that he could face this. “I don’t want to lie to you,” she said. “So I’m going to speak to you as if you were a grown man. The legend of your sacred ancestor probably has some truth to it. But I’m now convinced some parts of it are false.” 
“Why do you believe the Yakoo legend rather than the legend of our sacred ancestor?” he demanded. 
Balsa looked at him in surprise, and a smile, unbidden, touched her lips. He really was a tough kid. “For two reasons. First, I know Tanda very well. He is a deep thinker, and he rarely makes mistakes. Second, from my own experience, the strong usually manipulate the legends of the weak to fit their own wishes, not the other way around.” 
Tanda had been listening to the two of them talk with some amusement, but here he interrupted. “No, Balsa. Although that’s true sometimes, I think the oppressed often embellish their legends too. If they didn’t, they couldn’t keep their pride. But I don’t think the story of Nyunga Ro Im is one of those. It was passed down centuries before the first Mikado ever came, so it’s not likely that it was purposely changed to resist the kingdom of New Yogo. Besides, there’s something I haven’t told you yet.” 
He looked at Chagum. “I’m sure you can see by the color of my skin that Yakoo blood runs in my veins. My grandmother on my mother’s side was Yakoo. She told me a very frightening story she heard when she was a child from her grandfather, which would make him my great-great-grandfather. It went like this. 
“One hundred years after your sacred ancestor killed the water spirit, the spirit laid its egg in the son of my great-great-grandfather’s good friend. This friend was Yakoo, but his wife was Yogoese, so the blood of both peoples ran in the child’s veins. My great-great-grandfather and all the villagers tried desperately to save the boy, but they failed and he died.” 
“Why? How did he die?” Balsa asked, but Tanda shook his head. 
“My grandmother only told me this story after her memory had gotten hazy. I don’t know the details. She said he was killed by Rarunga, the Egg Eater, but I don’t know if that meant the Mikado’s men, who were trying to protect the legend of the first Mikado, or if it was something else. Master Torogai thinks Rarunga was a creature of Nayugu, the unseen world.” 
Chagum’s face had turned chalk white, but his voice was calm. “Master Torogai? The magic weaver to whom my mother sent a letter?” 
“That’s right,” Balsa said. “Torogai is Tanda’s teacher, and probably the greatest living magic weaver in the world.” 
Chagum stared at Tanda, his eyes round. Tanda scratched his head, embarrassed. “Master Torogai is part Yakoo too, you see,” he said. 
“But I heard the Yakoo were illiterate. How can someone who cannot read possibly be wise?” Chagum asked suspiciously. 
Tanda smiled. “They may not know how to read, but the Yakoo know a lot about this world. Think about it. The Yakoo have lived here for ages. Any person knows his own home better than a stranger.” 
Balsa clenched her hands on her knees. “We’ve got to find Torogai, or else another Yakoo who knows more about this water spirit. I haven’t a hope of protecting Chagum if I don’t even know what the Rarunga is. If it really is the Mikado’s men, then there are steps I can take, but if not, the task is beyond me.” 
Tanda nodded but frowned. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. But Master Torogai is so unpredictable, there’s no way to get in touch. As for the Yakoo, we’ve had so much intermarriage that we’re all mixed with Yogoese or Kanbalese blood, like me … We’ve forgotten our heritage. I don’t know if there’s anyone left who knows about Nyunga Ro Im.” 
“Well, we have to try. What about the descendants of your great-great-grandfather’s friend? They might know more about the story.” 
“You’re right. I’ll check that out first thing in the morning.” Chagum was still looking pale, and Tanda placed his hand on his shoulder. “I know you must be terrified, but I’m sure we’ll find a way to protect you. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better! Think about it: Nyunga Ro Im would have disappeared long ago if none of its eggs had survived. Obviously some of them must have hatched, even if we’ve never heard of them. Besides, if the spirit just laid its eggs in children for them to be killed, why would the Yakoo have treated it with such reverence?” 
Balsa thought privately that they might have considered these children necessary sacrifices to avert disastrous drought, but she kept her mouth shut. Chagum must already be frightened to death; she didn’t want to make him suffer any more. Chagum, however, said in a surprisingly steady voice, “That is what the magic weaver told my mother. The one who carries the creature only dies if he fails to protect it.” 
Balsa looked up in shock; she had forgotten that. A faint hope blossomed in her heart. “You’re right. I remember your mother telling us that. Tanda!” 
“I’m with you. We need to find Torogai.” 
“I’m sure Torogai escaped. That sly old magic weaver would have been the first to guess what the Mikado would do.” 
“And therefore be on the other side of the Misty Blue Mountains by now.” 
They looked at each other. Balsa whispered, “I didn’t want to get you involved in this.” 
Tanda laughed. “Don’t worry. I should be thanking you for getting me involved. This may just provide me with answers to a lot of questions.” 
“What do you want to know, Tanda?” Chagum asked. 
Tanda searched for words. “Many things. Though I may not seem like much, I want to be a magic weaver. For that, it’s important to know about the world — and not just Sagu, the world we can see, but the invisible world of Nayugu.” 
Balsa grinned and said, “He’s always wanted to know everything ever since he was a kid. He was never any good at martial arts, but when it came to medicines or spirits, he had amazing concentration. He can’t make his living yet as a magic weaver, but he does very well selling herbs. And when you do become a famous magic weaver, Tanda, you better charge those rich people lots of money and treat me to a fancy dinner.” 
“Don’t be an idiot. You’re lucky I’m still unknown and I sew up your wounds for free! When I become a famous magic weaver, I’ll charge you a gold coin for every stitch.” 
Chagum looked from Balsa to Tanda and said, “Have you known each other since you were children?” 
“Since we were this high!” they chimed in unison, placing their hands about waist height. The gesture and even the expressions on their faces were identical. They laughed. 
“Balsa was the foster child of Jiguro, a wandering warrior,” Tanda told Chagum. “They came here when she was about ten and stayed for several years to train. Jiguro was a hard teacher, and sometimes Balsa was badly injured. Whenever that happened, Torogai, who used to live here, would patch her up. Jiguro paid in cash, and for a magic weaver who didn’t want much to do with the villagers, this was convenient.” 
“Jiguro knew Torogai could sew me back together again, so he didn’t worry about drilling me to death. Honestly!” Balsa grumbled. “Was that any way to treat a beautiful young girl?” 
Tanda ignored her and continued. “I’m two years younger than Balsa. When I was a kid, I used to sneak away from my farm chores when my parents weren’t looking and hang around Torogai’s place. That’s how I met Balsa. Torogai was one shrewd old woman.” 
“What?!” Chagum burst out. “You mean the magic weaver is a woman?!” 
“That’s right,” Balsa replied. “The Yakoo call anyone with great ability ‘Master,’ regardless of their gender. And Torogai is one tough, clever old lady who doesn’t mince words. She must have been fifty-five or fifty-six then, so I guess she’s around seventy now, don’t you think?” 
“Yeah, I think she just turned seventy,” Tanda agreed. 
“Then she will never get away!” Chagum cried. “She is too old to run! She cannot possibly escape the kind of men who attacked us, can she?” 
“You bet she can!” Balsa and Tanda said at once. 
“If anyone can, she can,” Balsa added. “She may be old, but she’s more goblin than human.” 
Tanda laughed wryly. “Balsa, if Torogai finds out what you just said, you can give up any hope of her helping us. And besides, when you get old, you’re going to be just like her.” 
They teased each other lightly as they shared memories of their past. The hollow loneliness that had ached inside Chagum since he parted from his mother gradually began to ease. His home was now this simple hut: a single room, floored by wooden planks and dirt, with a hearth set in the middle. Yet it was dear to him. The fire crackling in the hearth warmed the entire room, comforting him. For the first time since he had left the palace, he felt safe.