Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [166]
“He only warned that, if we did it his way, though the fires be quenched, not even grass’d grow on those mountains for many years.”
The postmaster rubbed his nose. Wataru caught a glimpse of a bandage poking out from under his shirt. He noticed burn marks on the man’s arm.
“If we left the blaze as it was, the winds would carry it through all the southwest pastures, ruining them all. That alone would take years to recover from. We figured the sorcerer’s way didn’t sound all that bad, you see?”
The postmaster looked at their faces and grinned. “Of course, nobody in town could make up their mind. Reason being, this sorcerer was a boy.”
The darbaba postmaster pointed a stubby finger at Wataru. “In fact, he was about your age. An ankha boy. We were all surprised he hadn’t been moved out of town with the other children and the elderly.”
Wataru’s eyes opened wide. He took a step forward. “This sorcerer, was he wearing a black robe? Did he have a leather band around his waist, and a staff with a glimmering stone on the end?”
The postmaster seemed surprised. “How did you know that? You know this boy sorcerer?”
Kee Keema grabbed Wataru’s shoulder from behind and broke in. “What happened in the end? You take this sorcerer up on his offer?”
“Huh? Erm, yes, we did.” The darbaba postmaster nodded. “It was so hot even here in town by that point that our hair and clothes were threatening to catch fire. Not that anyone went up to him and specifically asked, you see. While we were all muddling about, trying to make up our minds, that boy sorcerer took control.”
Wataru smiled. It had to be Mitsuru. It sounded exactly like the sort of thing he would say.
“What happened then?” Meena asked, leaning forward.
“What happened? We saw sorcery.” The postmaster wiped the sweat off his nose. “And what sorcery it was. Makes me dizzy just t’think about it. He held his staff in his right hand, and with his left, he drew letters in the air, like this. Then he started shouting, or more like singing, words none of us could understand.”
Then the miracles started. The first to appear was a great cyclone. It formed suddenly in the air over the burning mountains to the southwest, and soon wrapped itself around the entire blaze.
“That cyclone covered the blazing hills peak to foot. Suddenly, the air around us got cool—cold, even. It wasn’t hot anymore at all. The wind stopped too.”
The sorcerer waved his staff, and the stone at its tip shone a bright blue. The villagers shielded their eyes from the sudden glare, when a great blue dragon appeared out of nowhere.
“I saw the whole thing. That was a seawyrm, it was, straight out of legend. No mistaking it,” the darbaba postmaster declared. “From the way it kind of erupted in the air above ’im, I think its power had been trapped in the stone at the tip of the sorcerer’s staff.”
The blue dragon twisted and writhed, spinning its body around the great cyclone enveloping the blaze. Then the cyclone began to fill with the purest water. Its twisting winds became a spray, the spray became rain, and the entire town of Maquiba and surrounding hills were drenched.
“Then the cyclone began to move.”
It left the hills, spun into the air, and went off toward the sea. Only the great ocean could stop such a blaze, and the cyclone was taking the blaze right to it.
“We all stood there staring, like idiots. By the time we realized our lives had been saved, night was breaking. The boy sorcerer was gone. Only those bald hills remained as proof of what had happened.”
The townspeople were so excited, said the postmaster. The fire and the sorcerer’s trick was all anyone could talk about.
They didn’t even have to ask, as they soon discovered. Everyone in Maquiba was eager to tell visitors about what happened, going so far as to stop them in the street to ask if they had heard the news. By the time they reached the lodge, the three travelers knew the story down to the last detail.