Authors: Miyuki Miyabe
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!”