In the heart of the Misty Blue Mountains, a tiny old woman in a rough hemp tunic was weaving magic. Unruly wisps of white hair framed her wrinkled brown face, with its wide nostrils, tight puckered lips, and black eyes that glittered in narrow slits; but while this face was hideously ugly, it also suggested hidden power. This was Torogai, the very woman Balsa and Tanda sought. She was sitting on the edge of a spring wreathed in ferns, stretching her wrinkled bony legs out between the damp rocks, her eyes half-closed. Only her hands moved, caressing a rock and drumming on its surface — ta-tap, tap, ta-tap — her fingers playing the rock as if it were an instrument. All the while she whispered in her mind, “Oh, Water Dwellers of Nayugu. Oh, Shining Ones who live in water. Oh, Long Ones. Oh, Undulating Ones. Come and speak with me. I am of the Land Dwellers of Sagu, one who walks the lands of Sagu, who lives above the earth. The year of Nyunga Ro Im has come — the time when Sagu and Nayugu intertwine. Come speak to me. Come tell me.” Suddenly, she heard a noise from the spring where it flowed from between the ferns: ta-tap, tap, ta-tap. It was identical to the rhythm she was drumming on the rock and came back to her with a hollow sound, like an echo from inside a cave. The air around her grew dim, as if the sunlight no longer reached her, as if the color of the very air around her changed. As she listened, the sound echoing from the water began to form words in her mind. “Oh, Child of the Land Dwellers of Sagu. Oh, Child of the Dry Ones who live on the earth. Oh, Child of the Free-Roaming Ones, the Wielders of Fire. I have come in answer to your call. I am of the Water Dwellers of Nayugu, one who lives in the waters of Nayugu.” The outline of Torogai’s body faded as if she were evaporating. A blue light drifted over the spring’s surface, blurring the boundary between water and air. She knelt down and pressed her face into the space where the two joined. Something gradually began to emerge from the blue haze. The sandy bottom of the shallow spring vanished, and in its place blue-green water, so beautiful it made her heart ache, extended deep, deep below. From its depths appeared something that resembled a human in shape, but its hair was like seaweed, and a slimy bluish-white film covered its skin. Its eyes were lidless, its mouth lipless, and it had only two small holes for a nose. “Well met, Yona Ro Gai, Water Dweller,” Torogai said, her face pressed close to the other’s.
“To Ro Gai, Land Dweller, speak with me,” the creature responded. Torogai nodded. Sweat beaded her brow; it was exhausting to keep her face between two worlds in this way. “Yona Ro Gai, listen. Has Nyunga Ro Im, the Water Guardian, laid its egg?” “Yes. Five eggs in Nayugu and one in Sagu.” “Is Rarunga on the move?” The creature shuddered. “Yes. Two of the eggs laid in Nayugu are already gone. Rarunga ate them. The eggs laid in Nayugu are food for Rarunga.” “How does it find them?” “I do not know.” “Who can tell me more about Rarunga?” It was so hard to breathe that Torogai’s face contorted with the strain. “Rarunga is an earth spirit. You must ask the Juchi Ro Gai, the Mud Dwellers of Nayugu.” The water creature was obviously finding it a struggle too. Her mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water. “Where must I go to speak with the Juchi Ro Gai?” “To the crack in the Earth — where Sagu and Nayugu meet….” And with those words, the Yona Ro Gai vanished. The blue light disappeared at the same time, and the smell of the damp air returned. Torogai gasped for breath and sprawled backward to lean spread-eagled against a rock. “Damn! That almost killed me!” she grumbled. “And now the Yona Ro Gai tells me I have to do it again! I bet it’s no easier talking to the Mud Dwellers either. What accursed magic!” Her huge nostrils flared and quivered. “And those tiresome hounds are still on my trail. Pah! How they stink. I’ve had enough of their foul smell. Maybe I should kill them right now.” She spat out the last words but then shook her head. “No, that won’t do. I need to have a little chat with those Star Readers first. Their heads are so stuck in the clouds they can’t see the ground. What a pain! Nyunga Ro Im sure chose a rotten time to lay its eggs. Why couldn’t it have done it when I was a bit younger?” She grabbed a handful of mud and began kneading it in both hands, all the while muttering complaints. Scowling, she yanked a strand of hair from her head and buried it in the ball of mud, which she shaped into a clay doll. Occasionally she removed something from inside her robe and kneaded it into the figurine. When it was complete, she stopped and stared intently at the roots of a camphor tree some distance away. “You there!” she yelled suddenly. “Out you come!” The bushes swayed and a Hunter stepped out, a shuriken grasped in his hand. As he sneered at her, a weighted chain flew at Torogai from behind: A second Hunter had snuck up on her. She dodged the chain and leapt into the air, as agile as a monkey. But the Hunters had foreseen this move, and before she could swing herself up onto a tree branch, shuriken had lodged themselves in her wrist and thigh. She fell to the ground with a shriek. The two Hunters rushed toward her where she sprawled helplessly on her back. One grabbed her arms and held them firmly while the other drew his short sword, placed a foot on her stomach, and slit her throat. Her head disintegrated into a pile of dirt. The Hunters jumped back and stared in amazement as the old woman’s body crumbled before their eyes. Then suddenly the man who had slit her throat threw back his head, tore at the air with his hands, and fell over backward, frothing at the mouth. His arms and legs twitched convulsively. The other Hunter somersaulted away from the spot. Jumping over a rock, he sprang up and grabbed a tree branch, but before he could swing himself to the next tree, his body became as heavy as lead. His skin grew cold; a white light flickered before his eyes. His heart beat like a drum, pounding in his ears. Breaking out into a cold sweat, he fell to the ground, his arms flailing uselessly. The old woman slid easily down from the tree. “Beautiful flowers have thorns. Clay dolls have thorns too, stupid dogs.” She grinned and kicked the man where he lay unconscious. “If you want to catch old Torogai, you’d better learn all her tricks!” From the moment she called out to them, the Hunters had fallen under her spell. Hypnotized by her voice, they saw only the doll, and convinced that it was Torogai, they attacked. But as soon as they touched it, the drug-smeared thorns hidden inside pricked their skin. “You should be grateful,” she told the Hunter as she undid his belt. “I could have smeared those thorns with a poison that meant instant death, but instead I chose something that would only knock you out. Very kind of me!” The magic weaver took off the man’s jacket. In his waist pouch she found a bamboo writing case containing a brush and ink. Opening the ink vessel, she dipped the brush in it and began writing smoothly on the inside of his jacket. When she had finished, she dressed him once again. “Make sure you deliver my message like a good little hound.” She slapped his chest. Then, as if an idea had come to her, she felt once again in the little pouch attached to his belt and drew out two silver pieces. Her face broke into a smile. “You’re pretty flush in the pocket, aren’t you now? I’ll just take this in return for you trying to slit my throat. Now I can go into town and drink some good wine for a change. I might even go to the White Deer for some hot venison stew.” Pleased with herself, she chuckled, then suddenly clapped her hands together. “Wait! I’ve got an even better idea! There’s no need for me to tax my poor old body. I can watch my apprentice do the work while I eat good food. Yes, it’ll be excellent training for him too. What a splendid idea! It seems I think better when I’m being chased by smelly old mutts.” She disappeared into the forest, still muttering to herself.
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