Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [266]
Kee Keema gave his darbaba a hearty crack of the whip, and they took off, sending up dust in their wake.
The little village of Taclou wasn’t much to look at. A long, long time ago it had seen a rush when gold was found in the surrounding hills. But as soon as the veins were mined out, the town’s golden age came to an end. Now only a few lived here, most of them elderly, and they spent their days working quietly in fields cut from the mountainsides.
“The goldcraft of Taclou is famous among antiques dealers,” Toni said, looking over the collection of thatched-roof huts that made up the town. “I’ve handled them once or twice, to make repairs. Never imagined I’d see the place where they were made.”
When the darbaba cart pulled up to the entrance to town, a few wizened faces appeared at windows. Moments later, villagers were streaming around them, greeting Kee Keema warmly. Wataru was surprised. “It’s almost like they know you!”
“Oh, I’ve been here several times, though not really for work. Some of the older folks here can’t make it down into the larger towns, so we darbaba drivers buy supplies and other things and bring them up to the village.”
Most of the residents were beastkin who, in their youth, had worked in the mines. They were all very kind, and seemed overjoyed to see Kee Keema again. When he explained the situation, they were given a small hut to use, and someone brought them food and a little water to drink.
The town master was a beastkin with white hair all over his body—there were even tufts poking out of his ears. To Wataru, he looked like an extremely old but vigorous Siberian husky.
After a night’s rest, Toni began his work on the wyrmflute. His excitement when he first laid eyes upon Jozo’s scale was palpable. “This will be the greatest work of my life,” he said, his cheeks flushed. “Not even the master craftsmen who taught me ever worked with a dragon scale. And here I am. I cannot afford a mistake. We have only one scale.”
Toni asked for three days to make the flute. “I’m confident I can do it,” he said as he shut himself inside the hut.
“Did you see his eyes when he looked at that thing? That’s a craftsman for you, a real artist…” Kee Keema said, grinning. “It’s hard to imagine that he was locked up in a cage for days. Look at him now—like a little boy!”
“He just wants to lose himself in his work,” Meena suggested. “That way he doesn’t have to think about Elza back in Lyris.”
Wataru had been worried about Elza too. The escape of Toni and the others would surely cause a stir among the ankha in Lyris. Security would be tighter than ever. But still, even though she was on their side, Elza was Branch Chief Pam’s daughter. It was doubtful she would come in harm’s way. That’s what Wataru told himself.
At least he was back with his friends, and they were safe. As soon as he was lying on a flat surface he fell deep into sleep. As he slept, his temperature rose until he was feverish, causing Meena no end of worry. One of the village men brewed him some tea from a medicinal herb said to be efficacious in easing fevers from injuries. It was so bitter that Wataru had great difficulty choking it down. And so it was that Toni Fanlon was absorbed in his work, and Wataru was resting, when a group of Highlanders and Knights of Stengel paid a visit. Contrary to Kee Keema’s assumptions, the tiny village of Taclou had been included in the search for the escaped prisoners.
But the searchers didn’t stay long, and quickly became frustrated with the slow-talking, long-eared residents.
“The people here are made of stauncher stuff than you might think,” Meena whispered, sticking out her tongue and smiling. “They can hear much better than they let on—they just pretend to be deaf because they know it infuriates those Highlanders.”
Wataru was able to recover in peace and quiet. Slowly, and in bits and pieces, he told Meena what happened inside the Cistina Cathedral.
“I’m amazed