Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [222]
No, it was an illusion. I had a nightmare brought on by the the swamp water. None of it really happened. If I went back to Tearsheaven now, I would see Lili Yannu knitting clothes by the edge of the lake. Satami would still be sad, Sara would still be waiting for her father to return, and Yacom would still be driving his cart and selling the black water.
“Somethin’ wrong, Wataru?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing.”
“Well, we got a bit sidetracked, you might say, but now that the three of us are back together, it’s time to get looking for that second gemstone. I don’t think we need to rush right out though. We should relax a bit and enjoy the sea. This is a busy place, with lots of folks coming and going. We might hear something.”
“The traveling waterkin will be our ears and eyes,” Meena said with a smile.
“You know it! So, how do you like Sakawa, Wataru? Nice place, eh?”
“It’s beautiful—and the food is great. And the people seem really nice and friendly. I guess I can’t complain.”
“Sure can’t! The beauty of Sakawa and the bounty of the sea are both gifts from the Goddess herself. That’s why we work hard every day to repay her. None are harder working in the south than us waterkin, after all,” Kee Keema said, puffing out his chest.
“I have to admit I’ve grown a little tired of hearing Kee Keema boast about his home,” Meena said, “but I can now see where it’s coming from.”
Wataru watched the two smiling, yet he couldn’t feel at ease. He knew terrible news would be arriving soon—something that would wipe smiles off faces even here in carefree Sakawa.
Had the United Southern Nations sent their karulakin messenger here yet? Was the word already spreading, carried on red wings to every part of the land? When would it reach them?
When Wataru had first heard the story of the barrier and the sacrifices from Shin Suxin, it had frightened him, and seemed cruelly unfair. But now, sitting here with his friends, he felt something more than fear: he felt anger. What if Kee Keema or Meena were chosen? Wataru couldn’t stand by and let one of his friends be dragged away. Even if the one chosen said they would go willingly, Wataru couldn’t let it be.
Still, he didn’t want to be the one to have to tell them. They would find out soon enough. He kept his mouth shut and listened to the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore.
There was only one path to take. I have to get to the Tower of Destiny as soon as possible. I’ll meet the Goddess and ask her to stop the sacrifices. Who cares about some treaty with the Lord of the Underworld? Treaties are made to be broken. They can be rewritten and amended. She can say that it was wrong. If he begged, if he asked from the bottom of his heart, he was sure she would hear his plea. What kind of benevolent Goddess wouldn’t?
That evening, all the waterkin in Sakawa gathered at the Elder’s pagoda. A great feast was planned in Wataru’s honor. Plates of food and jugs of wine were piled on the table. The dining hall was overflowing with villagers and many more were squeezed outside. Kee Keema had warned Wataru away from the wine—waterkin liquor was powerful stuff—though the older waterkin insisted there was no harm in a cup or two.
The Elder of Sakawa was more than four hundred years old by Kee Keema’s account, but it was difficult to tell his age from his thick lizard-like scales and smooth skin. But his face did look quite dignified. It was the face of a leader.
Everyone was full of questions for Wataru: about his journey, about the trials he had faced when he first arrived in Vision, about the real world. All the while, the Elder sat silently with a smile on his face. Wataru felt something in that warm, genteel gaze—like he was being tested or judged. He had the distinct impression that the Elder had a question for him too, but not the sort of question one asked at these types of affairs.
Kee Keema also weathered an onslaught of inquiries about their adventures in the cave outside Gasara and the state of affairs in Lyris. He retold the story of their capture in the sula woods