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Autumn was here, with a great deal less to do. I’d snuck through the secret door, taking Tori to the place where I’d found him. He’d grown to a fully matured bird. Selfishly, I’d kept him a bit longer. But I’d promised to give him back. It wasn’t right to keep him locked away, in my heart I knew that. Even though I’d raised him, he was still wild. He didn’t belong with me. Not if he didn’t want to.
Leaves had fallen, leaving so many of the trees half naked.
Holding him, I recounted how I’d found him, explaining that this was that very spot. I told him how fond I’d grown of his company and how much I would miss him. He probably didn’t understand a word, but it was a comfort to me.
The butterflies had gone for the season, and the grass was drying out and becoming brittle.
I told my friend he could visit me any time he wanted. Opening my hands, he stayed a moment. I thought perhaps he didn’t want to leave. Then he gave me a last, loud, set of demanding chirps and flew off.
I stood there a while, my fingers fussing with my tattered deel. A part of me regretted the decision, wanting the company. It was too late now.
Walking back, I felt lonely.
Lord Kwan had a visitor, and the whole of the staff tried to make a show of themselves. I was to stay out of the way, which I didn’t mind. Whoever this guest was, if they put everyone else on edge, I didn’t want to meet them. They’d likely be in the tea house; or, that’s what everyone said. Horses were brought into the stable, having carried the visitor and their entourage, preventing me from going to see Saburo.
I tried to stay where no one else was, and move out when I heard people coming.
A mess of mud was on the veranda near Lord Kwan’s room where I next tried to keep out of sight. The servants told me never to disturb Lord Kwan, or enter his room. If I had some urgent message, I was instructed to give it to one of them to tell him. I didn’t mind that rule either, strange as it was. But if his visitor was really someone important, the mess would be unsightly.
The rest of the staff was busy, and probably hadn’t seen it yet. With nothing else to do myself, I fetched what I needed and started to clean it up. As I did, I noticed it spread farther than I first thought, and I went over it several times to make sure.
I could hear voices coming from Lord Kwan’s room, and hurried so I could leave.
Somehow, the mud and mess seemed to reappear just as quickly as I’d cleaned it away. I couldn’t have missed so much, I was sure of it. Putting in more of my strength, I worked as diligently as I did quickly, building sweat on my face.
Then the paper-paned doors slid open.
I froze. In the moment of wordlessness, I looked up. A toad-faced man with bulbous eyes stared at me. More than that, he seemed half toad and half man all in one. I knew it was rude, but I stared. I’d never seen someone who looked like that.
He breathed in deep, sniffing. “A human? Ah, you must be Lord Kwan’s human prisoner.” He leaned in, and I instinctively went rigid and scooted back. “You must be a gentle human because you smell sweet. The tastiest kind!”
“Now, Juro,” said Lord Kwan, “Don’t torment the girl.”
“Girl?” said Juro in a start, looking from me to Lord Kwan and back.
“She’s the hardest worker I have. I’d appreciate if you didn’t tease.”
An awkward smile stretched on Juro’s face. “Old Kurai habits. I was only joking, of course. A human that small wouldn’t make for a full meal anyway.”
I pulled my arms in, using all my strength to keep from trembling.
“Juro,” scolded Lord Kwan, keeping his voice leveled and polite.
The former Kurai laughed.
Lord Kwan placed a hand on Juro’s shoulder, stealing his full attention. “If too many old habits slip back, we can finish what we started the day we met.”
Juro’s jaw became tight and his body rigid.
“You see she’s trying to clear away your mud essence. When I tell you she’s a hard worker, did you think I exaggerated?”
Juro relaxed, snickering.
When I looked around, I saw why. It was as though I’d never started to clean at all.
“Don’t laugh,” cooed Lord Kwan. “A human wouldn’t know. Yet she tried. I don’t doubt she stayed vigilant in an impossible task.”
“It’s a shame she’s not a beauty. It’d make for a better story.”
“Story?”
I stayed there, uncomfortable as they talked about me.
Rethinking himself, Juro let go of the conversation. “I should be getting back. Who else is going to make sure those damned leech demons are going to stay dead if I’m not there?”
Lord Kwan let his hand drop. “It was good to see you, my friend.”
“Just make sure you give Gumiho what’s coming to her,” said Juro. “After what she did to the toad clan, I’d wring her neck myself if I could.” He marched off to the stables, holding himself proud. “And don’t forget what I told you. I’ll come swift as the rain if you need me, my friend.”
“I thank you for the offer, but you’ve done more than enough for me.”
Juro looked satisfied and smug and disappointed all at once, his face contorting strangely as the range of feelings passed through him.
Lord Kwan stayed on the veranda, servants gathering one by one on cue to see off his visitor. In a weird way, I felt happy that he stayed there with me. Safe. Lord Kwan was one of the most powerful Juneun, enough to turn a Kurai good. He’d praised my efforts, odd as it was, but it made me happy.
“You shouldn’t have any trouble with cleaning, now that Lord Juro is gone.”
I looked at him, but he stayed staring across the courtyard and the gardens as the servants dispersed to take care of their own tasks. He turned to retreat to his room, and I’d realized then that I hadn’t retained my manners. I gave a slight bow of my head, hoping to make up for it.
He hadn’t closed the doors when a man, lightly armored, rushed to him.
“Lord Kwan,” called the man, bowing quickly as he panted. “It’s the west province. Lord Kwang is holding them off, but—”
Without further explanation, Lord Kwan grabbed his sword and took off, faster than Syaoran had, leaving a violent wind in his wake.
The messenger continued to pant, led away by a servant with the offer of rest and refreshment.
I stood there, confused. What was wrong with the west province, wherever that was? Who was Lord Kwang? Why did the name send Lord Kwan into a mad dash with his sword?
I remembered that I was told not to, but no one was around and my curiosity was too great. His doors were still open. I peered in from the edge of the veranda, glimpsing the fine table and tea set in such a spacious room, and the lovely green ceramics.
“Yua will tidy it,” said Syaoran.
I pulled myself straight and look at him, bashful.
“Lord Juro doesn’t usually come so early into autumn. He was curious about you.”
“Me?”
Syaoran smiled. “Word has gotten out that Lord Kwan has a human prisoner. It’s quite the curiosity. He lingered as long as he did hoping to catch you. But by the time he finally saw you, he was already leaving.”
“But why?”
Syaoran shrugged. “Lord Kwan isn’t one to keep prisoners. As you can tell. He usually leaves that to some other lord to sort out. Naturally, others would be curious why you’re here.”
I looked from the room to the courtyard, contemplating what I understood to make sense of what I didn’t.
“And I wouldn’t take Juro’s teasing to heart. He’s uncouth at best, and the title of lord is more honorary than anything. He brings the ginseng tea to Lord Kwan and blesses the ground to help with harvests.”
“The harvests in the villages?”
He nodded. “He can’t do anything about the rain. Floods and droughts are another matter. But he puts a blessing in the soil to help keep the crops and trees going.”
I must have seemed in awe, judging by Syaoran’s snickering. I never knew what forces kept us going in the hard times, much less that it would be a former Kurai.
“Why don’t you join me in the tea house?” offered Syaoran. “I lit the furnace when Juro first arrived, so it should be warm in there.”
“Thank you,” I said. “But isn’t that only for important guests?”
“Juro came here just to get a look at you. I’d say that makes for an exception. At least for today. Besides, Lord Kwan isn’t here and I’m acting master while he’s away.”
“I still have to clean though,” I said, a warm smile taking me. “But afterwards, I’d be glad to. If that’s alright.”
“What? That?” Syaoran waved his hand and snapped his fingers. The mess was gone in an instant.
I blinked, jaw dropped.
“Yua used it more as an excuse to get you access to the grounds. No one actually thought you’d try to work yourself to death.”
My head was spinning, even as I followed Syaoran to the tea house, trying to understand the past weeks I’d been here and what it amounted to. Another joke at my expense? Or to keep me out of trouble?
It became less important with a hot cup of red tea and Syaoran’s company. The floor was warm, heating the entire space comfortably.
In our conversation, he asked what I enjoyed in my free time, implying I’d have more of it. I told him about my mother, and how I’d been trying to draw as well as she could. He asked about my brothers next, and their hobbies. When I asked in turn, he told me how he liked to race through the forests on horseback. I learned he once had a sister as well, and that my shyness reminded him of her. I wanted to ask where she was, what she thought of his serving Lord Kwan. At the same time, I was afraid of the answer.
****
Over the next few days, I’d learned that the spells Syaoran performed were easy enough for him as a more powerful spirit, and that there were spirits who couldn’t perform any magic at all. It brought me some comfort, thinking that my chores weren’t there to make me look foolish. I’d been given some paper and charcoal to with as I pleased, and often sat on the veranda near Lord Kwan’s room, where there was usually no one, after I’d completed my day’s work. On warmer days, I would go between the walls to draw.
I could never get anything just right. It always looked slanted and odd, but I kept at it. Sometimes I’d imagine myself creating precise imagery, beautiful gardens and landscapes, after five years of practice.
On my walk back one day, I’d decided to detour to the house rather than straight back to my cell. If I kept close to the walls, I could feel the warmth of the interior floor on my feet. I wasn’t allowed into the house. I was still a prisoner after all.
On this particular afternoon, a horrible roar shattered the very air. I dropped to my knees and held my palms tight against my ears. My drawing book fell with me, its pages flapping and threatening to break free of their twine binding. They stilled only after the roar ended. I shook, confused as I saw every staff member rush in one direction.
Growls rattled the house. Calls between all the spirits clapped back and forth, an organized panic ensued.
I was afraid, and ran to go to my cell. Syaoran was thrown down the adjoining veranda, a river of blood across his face and a pool of it at his torso. I slid to a halt, petrified by the sight. I wanted to run, but couldn’t pick a direction. I stood there, stupidly, shaking, unable to tear my gaze away from him.
He groaned, rolling to his side and slow to get up. Propped on his elbow, he saw me and his face slackened and paled. “Hisa! Get out of here! Hide!”
Another roar sounded, and I fled. The most direct path to my cell cut off, I thought to run around to get back. But where was there to hide? Terrified, I ran into the first open door to the house. I didn’t know what room I entered—it didn’t matter. My eyes looked for some corner or pile of things I could tuck myself into. The growls didn’t relent. I could feel every hair on me stand sharp, and dashed further in the house.
Stairs. For whatever reason, I thought I could hide from the danger on the ground if I were on the second floor. The growling didn’t quiet, pressing me to find anywhere to hide. A heavy, lacquered, wood door at the far end of the house. It seemed the most secure in my panic, driving me to hurry inside. It was opened a little, and proved very heavy. I couldn’t budge it. In my terror, I squeezed myself in.
A storage. I recognized the landscape beyond the widow. This was the room that acted as the ceiling for the kennels. I could hear the cacophony below, and looked for somewhere I could tuck myself away.
Incents and barrels of persimmon wine. Strong smells that would mask my own human scent. I hurried to find something to crouch behind. The growling grew louder. Desperate, I climbed over to wiggle in a hollow spot and pulled a lid to conceal myself.
The growls grew louder and more frequent. I could hear shouting. All of it sounded like it was getting closer. The dragging of chains joined in the noise. Chanting, footfall, dragging. I curled tighter, trying to shrink myself if possible.
The sound of those heavy doors flinging open shocked me. Whatever was going on, it was being brought into the same room I’d taken shelter in. I shut my eyes and pressed my hands over my ears. Don’t shriek. Don’t cry. Don’t even breathe.
I failed in that last one, but tried to make it so shallow and quiet that I wouldn’t be heard.
It felt like ages. Silent, hot tears rolled down my face. Then, it stopped. Most of it anyway. The shouts, the chanting. Only a resounding, low growl and snorting breath, interrupted with the scrape of chains against each other.
The monster had won. That’s what it sounded like. Whatever Kurai this might be, I hoped the smell of the incents and the wine would mask my own scent. I didn’t want to be eaten. I didn’t want to die.
Another loud growl and a stifled roar. I flinched, staying hidden. There was something odd in that moment, when things quieted again. It sounded like, whatever it was, it was in pain. I stayed still a long while, summoning the courage to open my eyes to the darkness.
I still winced at the growls as they grew more menacing. But there wasn’t a thrashing to indicate rage.
I steeled myself, braving to peer out of my hiding place.
Lord Kwan.
Only, he didn’t look like the stony, elegant lord I knew. He seemed half beastly, his eyes feral. Chains, pulled taut, held his arms outstretched and gaged him. His clothes were shredded, his arms and most of his chest bare.
What happened to him?
His hands flexed, trying to break free of his restraint. Another roar left him, vibrating in my bones. I ducked down, afraid. Afraid of him, of what he’d become.
Afraid.
Did he feel that way too? It was happening to him. And he was alone to endure it.
I remembered the night I heard such horrible sounds. Did it happen often? Was he always alone? I began to pity him, calming myself. He was my jailer, but he was also the protector of this mountain. Of my village.
I summoned my courage, holding fast to it with a prayer, and slowly climbed out of my hiding place. Lord Kwan didn’t notice. I took an uneasy step, needing a deep breath to steady myself and try again. Walking around, in slow, soft steps, I attempted to meet his eye.
“Lord Kwan?” I whispered. I didn’t mean for it to sound so quiet, and swallowed hard.
His eyes fast found me, and he thrashed in his bindings, growling louder.
I tried to speak more clearly, but all I could muster was a hushed voice. “I thought... are you scared too?”
He snarled, looking at me with a heated intensity.
“I was scared from when I first met you. Who was I to ask anything of a mighty Juneun? It wasn’t that you looked monstrous—just the opposite. It was that, when I saw you, I realized my place in the world. How lowly I am. Yet I climbed up to make demands of you.”
His growls ceased, but the snorting breaths and deep snarl remained.
“I thought, first that you were the one taking my brother away. Then, that you were my death. Then, my warden. I thought maybe you were deliberately cold. But I realized that wasn’t it. You spoke directly, and I didn’t understand the way of things here. Just because you didn’t speak to me with a bright smile didn’t mean you didn’t care.”
A low, rumbling growl left him, interrupting his panting.
I sat down, arms wrapping around my legs, and thought of some way I might help. So, I spoke about my village. Something to distract. I described how the fields probably looked, and the gentle current of our river. I smiled as I talked about the pickling of fruits, and which ones were my favorite. I talked about what I’d be doing if I was at home this time of year, what I’d be cooking or crafting, and the excitement of waiting for the merchants to pass through. I told him about the gifts my brothers would save up for, about my friends in the village and the crush I’d had. I went at length on every happy thought I could remember.
I didn’t know if it helped at all. I fell asleep in that position, no longer troubled by the glare or the growls.
In the morning, the chirping of birds and soft rays of light woke me. Everything else was silent. Opening my eyes and looking up, I saw Lord Kwan—still tied up but himself once more.
The chain had fallen from his mouth, his breathing controlled. His eyes lifted, slow to look at me, though he seemed exhausted.
“What is your name?” asked Lord Kwan in a whisper.
“Hisa,” I said, shrinking into myself. The sun behind him, he looked more ethereal and handsome.
He repeated my name, keeping his stony expression.