Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [165]
It had been almost a year since Meena left the Spectacle Machine troupe, but she figured they would be back around Bog by this time. They were determined to head for the town of Maquiba, the spot nearest to Gasara on the border between Nacht and Bog. Maquiba was a small but rich town due to its vast herds of livestock. Apparently, most of the meat and vegetables that Wataru had eaten in Gasara came from there.
“Bog is the smallest of the four countries, and the circus always creates a buzz. If they’re in Bog now, word of their passage will surely have reached Maquiba.”
As expected, when they reached the town of Maquiba—little more than a cluster of small, plain buildings built of brick and log—they heard that the circus troupe had pitched their tents just over the mountains to the north.
“That’s great!” Meena exclaimed. “I had no idea they’d be so close!”
“Did you see the show?” Kee Keema asked, but the darbaba postmaster shook his head. “Not a soul in Maquiba did, sadly.”
Apparently, when the circus was scheduled to perform there had been a great fire in the mountains. The darbaba postmaster gestured with his hand, indicating the wide spread of mountains from the west to the southwest of town. “See the burnt color of the hills in that direction? They should be covered in green this time of year.”
Indeed, it was as he said. Three of the smaller hills had been stripped bare of their leafy summer clothes and stood naked and gray.
“That must have been some fire,” Wataru said.
The postmaster shook his head. “That was no mere bushfire, and it took some extreme measures to put out. Not a single blade of grass is left on those hills, son.”
All the lands around Maquiba were verdant green, with the exception of that corner to the southwest. In the distance, the travelers saw numerous pens and enclosures holding livestock—in fact, it resembled a massive crossword puzzle. Wataru saw some animals that looked remarkably like sheep. Here and there stood farmhouses and silos, their pointed roofs shining in the sun.
“The livestock here are mostly munmas,” Kee Keema had told him, indicating one of the white, woolly creatures in a corral they had passed on their way into town.
“Munmas are good eating, and their hides are strong and pliable. These woolly critters are strong ’gainst disease, and pop out babies like there was no tomorrow. Good things all around.”
The darbaba postmaster nodded. “Our munma herds are the lifeblood of Maquiba. They feed in the pastures on the hillsides around town. Maquiba’s greenery is like gold to our herders, you see.”
The fire had broken out near the mountains three days before. A strong southerly wind had been blowing close to the ground that night, and the fire grew and grew, blazing so hot that firemen couldn’t even get close. It was all they could do to cut down trees in a circle around the mountain to prevent the fire from spreading any farther. The whole town had come out to help herd the panicked munmas away from the smoke and smell of the fire. But the fire moved quickly, and the blaze burned hotter and hotter.
“We were all worried that by dawn the fire would eat up the hills and make its way farther east. If it did that, the town would be in danger. Worst-case scenario, the whole place would burn. There’s certainly fuel enough with all the grass. We moved the elderly and the children out of town, and those who remained did everything they could to control the blaze, but people were falling from the smoke, and there was little they could do. We couldn’t even put a dent in that inferno. A wind like the breath of a firewyrm swept down the hills, making it hard to even stand on your feet without holding on to something.”
Just as they were preparing to pack up and leave town for good, one