Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [202]
“Something’s got to be done about that,” Bhuto said severely.
“Someone is out there selling counterfeit tears…” Wataru said, thinking aloud. “Is there any way of distinguishing them from the real thing?”
As far as he knew, tears looked just like water. Put them in a bottle with a convincing label, and no one would be able to tell the difference.
“Of course there is,” Bhuto answered. “It’s simple. Fish can’t live in real tears. A guppy in a bowl of tears would die by the time you counted to ten. Not that it’s poison, mind you. It’s too pure for them, you see. Our buyers always use the fish test to prove what they’re getting is the real deal.”
“Then these counterfeit tears are even worse!” Wataru exclaimed, standing up. “They must be adding something to kill fish.”
“Yet that’s not the case,” the traveling merchant said, shaking his head. “The Highlanders in Arikita are a tough bunch, and not ones to be easily taken in. The moment they heard that a patient had died in an unusual manner, they confiscated the remaining tears, and had a look. They found no poison in it at all. The only thing they discovered was a bit of medicine used for their brew.”
Bhuto snorted in response. “If the branch in Arikita is on the move, then this is no passing affair.”
They rushed to tell Mayor Mag. He greeted the news with wide, rolling eyes, burbling, “If this is all true, then the future of the whole town is at stake!”
Wataru left the mayor’s office with a heavy heart. Out on the street, he caught sight of Sara. She was running as fast as her legs would carry her from the workshop toward the town gate.
“What’s wrong?” Wataru called out, running after her. The little girl didn’t look around, but continued straight for the gate.
“Oy there, Sara! What’s the matter?” Bhuto called down from his perch.
“Where’s the udai?” she asked, breathlessly. “I heard an udai came to the gate.”
“Ah, that was a traveling merchant, my girl. He’s left already.”
Sara’s head drooped. She looked so forlorn that Wataru merely stopped and looked at her, lacking the right words to say.
Bhuto leaned out from atop the gate and called down to her gently. “Don’t worry, if your father’s udai came back, I would shout the news so loud you’d be able to hear me no matter where you were.”
So she was hoping it was her father…Wataru felt an ache in his chest. “Now, Sara,” Bhuto said, pointing to Wataru. “This gentleman here has something for you. I wonder what it is?”
Wataru hurriedly fished the wooden doll out of his pocket. Kneeling so his eyes were on a level with Sara’s, he handed it to her. “Here.”
For a while Sara stood, arms behind her back, staring at the tiny doll. “That’s for me?” she said, looking at Wataru’s face at last.
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Its face reminded me of yours.”
Hesitantly, the little girl reached out her fingers and touched the doll. Wataru gently pressed it into her palm.
“Thank you,” she said in a small voice. “What’s his name?”
Wataru blinked. “Uh…I don’t know.”
“He wants you to give the doll a name,” Bhuto suggested to Sara.
“Tochee,” Sara said, patting the doll on her head with a finger.
“Tochee? That’s a nice name.”
“It’s my sister’s.”
Sara’s younger sister. The one who died of the plague.
“Mom says that Tochee became a star, and she’s never coming home. But Dad will come home. He will, won’t he?”
“Just you stay happy and healthy, and I’m sure he will,” Bhuto assured her. Wataru stood with his hands clenched into fists, watching the little girl run back to the workshop.
It was two days later that the word came: Yacom had been spotted near the Swamp of Grief.
Wataru prepared to leave for the swamp immediately. His leg was almost healed, and Mayor Mag lent him a swift udai. He also gave him a set of what looked like paddles. The udai could wear them on its hooves like snowshoes for crossing wet terrain.
“Put these on, and your udai will never get