To help with the large cast of characters,
I have put together a spoiler-free Dramatis Personae
Upon returning to the inn, So Ga and Min La found that it was past midday. Time had passed swiftly in the House of Énan, but, they reasoned, at the same speed as this world. Their time there had felt like minutes but it had also felt like days. Min La understood that that was the nature of being hunted. It could expand and contract time like a length of soaked cloth. So Ga was exhausted and Min La’s body ached. They would need to sleep before they moved on again. A day’s travel had been lost.
The innkeeper, still as distracted as he had been yesterday, was baffled by the sudden departure of the bulk of his occupants.
“Their horses, too,” he announced after Min La had requested a pot of boiling water. “At least they already paid, but I don’t see how a dozen or more horsemen could leave this place without my knowing. Altogether unsettling, is what it is.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Min La agreed. “And the water?”
“You’ve a stove in your rooms, my boy. But I’ll fetch you water, all the same. We’ve a perfectly good well, you know. Easy to use and so forth. But I’ll fetch it for you. Not like I’ve got anything else to do now.”
His eyes fell on the blood on the front of Min La’s golt, though he’d tried to use his bag to hide it. He seemed about to say something, but then shuffled off.
So Ga’s bag was exactly where he had left it last night, and in it all of his medicine. They had to use the last of it, but it was enough. While he hunched over the steaming, fragrant pot, a blanket over his head, Min La considered the sky through the cloudy window. His mind, taxed by the events of the day, had begun to coil and coil like a restless animal. An exhaustion of spirit had descended upon him, a melancholy foreboding he couldn’t seem to overcome. As he watched the sky darken with evening, he reminded himself that he was very tired and had nearly died today, it was only natural that he would feel unsettled.
But, of course, it wasn’t the threat to his own life that troubled him. Glancing at the shape of So Ga’s head under the blanket, he remembered with a quickening heart how close So Ga had come to dying today. The prince did not seem as troubled by the danger they had experienced, too preoccupied was he by the strangeness, and by the men they had met.
He had led the crown prince of Láokoth into the House of Énan and they had barely escaped. Not for the first time he wondered if they ever would reach Osa Gate.
Not for the first time he wondered if he had been foolish to take on such a weighted responsibility. The prince needed better swords. He needed a warrior like Soháth to cut a path for him to his father’s Palace.
Min La let his head rest against the wall behind him and, reaching for his brother’s seal, tried to quiet his mind.
Nŏl and Hino Son had decided to take Íso Lin back to the shed where they had found him and there question him in order to, hopefully, find the answers they had come east to seek. Their worries had multiplied in the night; in addition to misplacing Min La and So Ga, when they had awoken this morning they had found that their carriage — the only at the inn — had had both back wheels broken in the night. Min La suspected sabotage when he heard this, likely by Íojin or one of the others who had developed an interest in So Ga.
But now they didn’t know how they would transport themselves and Íso Lin to the Ŏklo estate. The innkeeper was willing to let them use his horse and cart, provided they returned them before the first snow. And this he would only hesitantly allow given that Nŏl was the son of Ŏklo’s Housemaster. But traveling by open cart in the damp autumn cold would not be good for So Ga. Still, Min La thought staring at the clouded window, there wasn’t much of a choice. They had already lost the day, and the weather was not likely to improve.
While the steam filled and warmed the small rooms, Min La found himself dozing. But was woken abruptly by the arrival of Nŏl.
“I’ve come to collect food for our prisoner,” he announced, glancing at the shape of So Ga’s head under the blanket. “It is altogether more pleasant in here than it is in that drafty old shed. I think I might stay a moment.”
And he sat on the cushion near the stove and warmed his hands.
“Where is Hino Son?” Min La asked.
“Still speaking to our prisoner.” He paused and gazed thoughtfully at his hands. “I can’t bring myself to call him Íso Lin, but he has given us no other name.”
“Has he told you anything?”
Nŏl shook his head. “He hasn’t even spoken. We’ve told him that he should rather speak to us than my uncle’s men. We’ve spent some hours describing the tortures he’s likely to endure, but he doesn’t seem moved at all. Stubborn fellow, that one. Not that it matters all that much. Regardless of what he says or doesn’t say, I still need to take him back to my uncle.”
Min La said nothing, though he could tell that Nŏl was waiting for him to answer. It was plain that Nŏl wanted to discuss the situation with him, but feared pressing him when his concern was focused, at least in that moment, on So Ga. Despite that, Min La couldn’t help but remember the dying words of Lin Jenin. Taking Íso Lin back to the Ŏklo estate might not be a good way for Nŏl to find answers.
A thought occurred to him and he said to Nŏl, “Someone sent you a letter about the eastern Ŏklo estate, isn’t that right?”
Nŏl looked at him in surprise, then he moved a little closer. “Yes,” he answered, “some months ago.”
“And you don’t know who it was? Was it someone within Ŏklo?”
“Probably.” He paused, studying Min La’s stone face, then said, “You think I shouldn’t take him back to my uncle’s estate.”
“It’s as you said,” Min La answered. “You have no choice.”
“I know that my uncle—” but he paused and turned back to stretch out his hands to the stove. With a sigh, he continued, “I know that my uncle has not a favorable reputation here in the east. I have heard that he is considered greedy and selfish. My father fears that despite the gains he has made for the Ŏklo House — and how shamelessly they were made — he will drive our eastern estates to ruin.”
Min La said, “The Ŏklo House is old and strong. It will take more than Von Ol Ŏklo to weaken it.” Though as he said it, he knew that it wasn’t entirely true. However strong the western branch of the House was, losing the estates in the east would devastate them, not to speak of the blow to the Ŏklo reputation.
Nŏl bowed slightly and said, “I am sorry, Min San. It was not my intention to involve you and So Nan in my House’s private matters.”
Min La shook his head. “If there was something I could do to help you with this, I would.” He gestured to So Nan. “But you know who we are.”
Nŏl nodded. “But you are still coming to see our physician?”
“Yes. And thank you.” Min La bowed, the tired muscles in his shoulders trembling.
Nŏl returned his bow and then stood. “I shouldn’t leave Hino Son alone with him too long,” he said. “I will see you in the morning, then.”
The way he said it made it seem like he half-expected them to be gone before then. Min La guessed that that’s what he had thought this morning when they had woken to find them missing from the room. As he watched him leave, Min La believed he might finally understand why Nŏl was so eager to bring them to the Ŏklo estate. He was trying to prove — if only to himself — that his Ŏklo House was more than the corruption he was finding here in the east. If Min La and So Ga refused to accompany him back to his uncle’s estate, that would confirm to Nŏl that his House was not trusted or respected in the east.
Moreover, Nŏl carried now upon his shoulders the full weight of his House’s reputation. Min La and So Ga had discovered with him the cruel fruits of Von Ol Ŏklo’s disastrous management of the eastern Ŏklo estates and lands, where even bandits were permitted to roam unchecked. And so now it fell to Nŏl to repair their opinion of his House. His offer of hospitality, relentlessly proferred, was an effort to impress upon them that Ŏklo was not defined by the incompetence of Von Ol, but by the graciousness and nobility of Nŏl’s own family, for whom he stood as representative.
Min La pitied him. It was likely that the stain of Von Ol would take some time to wash from the Ŏklo House. Nŏl did not deserve to be burdened or blemished by it. But he was precisely the type of man to take on such a burden willingly. As he thought this, Min La also thought that his brother would have liked Nŏl. He would have said that Nŏl Ŏklo was a better fit for Housemaster of the east than his odious uncle.
After Nŏl had gone, So Ga came out from under his blanket. Min La clicked his tongue at him disapprovingly and pulled the blanket back over his head.
“We will go to Ŏklo?” So Ga asked, voice slightly muffled.
“If for no other reason than to see their physician.”
He didn’t say anything for a time. Then, “We will likely see Von Ol Ŏklo.”
Min La yawned and poured himself a cup of weak tea. “From what I’ve heard, he’s hard to miss.”
So Ga laughed, which became a slight cough.
Min La asked, “Does he know you?”
“I do not think he has ever even been to my father’s court. He puts on airs but is ultimately of little consequence. Any importance he thinks he has is borrowed from his brother in the west.”
“And in return,” Min La answered thoughtfully, his eyes closed, “he offers shame and disgrace.”
So Ga came out from under his blanket and put the cooling pot aside. “It is sad,” he agreed, “but at least there is Nŏl’s father. Without him, I think, another of the Fourteen Ancient Houses might soon fall.”
Min La’s eyes opened briefly and a hot, panicked flush rose through So Ga. The words had slipped from his lips before he’d had a chance to hear their full meaning. After all, the first of the Fourteen Ancient Houses to fall had been Nŭnon.
But Min La said nothing, and again closed his eyes.
So Ga asked, eager to change the subject,“And after Ŏklo? What will we do then?”
“We are going to Ŏklo for the physician and nothing else. We would not be making this detour were that not necessary.”
So Ga watched him say this, but said nothing in reply.
Min La went on, “After you have seen their physician, we will leave the estate and travel on foot to the nearest inn or town where we will hire a carriage.”
“And return to the Prince Road?”
“I have seen maps of the Osa Len Mountains that were no older than five years. If I am right, the Ŏklo estate is very close to the mountain road.”
“The one that leads to Osa Gate?”
Min La nodded.
“So, even though it is a detour, we are still moving forward.”
“As I said, no matter what I will take you to Osa Gate.”
“And after?”
But Min La did not answer.
They set out just before dawn the following morning. A thick fog had stretched through the forest surrounding the old inn, wrapping around the tree trunks and mingling with the crisp, brown foliage. Blue colored the air, with violet on the edges of things and collected thickly in the shadows. There was no wind or rain but the air was heavy with cold. A dense, damp smell had collected near the ground, an odor of mushrooms and wet earth.
Min La had attempted to wash the blood out of his golt in the night, but a faint, pink stain remained which was, thankfully, covered by his coat. He had purchased the blankets from the room — a request the innkeeper had taken as rather odd — and used them to insulate So Ga where he sat in the corner of the wooden cart.
Nŏl was perched on the bench, reigns in hand, while the others occupied the cart. Hino Son seemed impervious to the cold, not even his cheeks were flushed as Nŏl’s were.
Also sharing the cart with them was Íso Lin, whose true name still was not known. According to Hino Son, he had spent the entirety of the night in sullen silence, refusing to answer any question put to him, refusing to eat, refusing to sleep. His arms and legs were bound with rope, but he was not gagged. When Hino Son had planted the prisoner in the cart he had pointed this out to him.
“As you can see,” he had said amiably, “you are free to talk as much as you’d like. Indeed, we would welcome it.”
Íso Lin, however, had merely glowered and tucked his chin into his chest, prompting Hino Son to laugh lightly and pat the prisoner’s shoulder.
His mood seemed to have improved since they had discovered the murdered Sengí family the evening before last. Nŏl had suggested in a whisper to Min La and So Ga earlier this morning that Hino Son was glad to have the two of them back with them and had yesterday feared that they had gone on without them.
Due to the presence of the prisoner, conversation was not possible between the four travelers. And so the morning was slow and tedious. So Ga found travel by cart to be no less uncomfortable than travel by carriage, except there seemed no way to escape the cold. Within a closed carriage heat could accumulate from lanterns or even a small stove. Or, if nothing else, the collected heat of the occupants. But a cart offered no such protection. And so cold built within him, tightening constantly around his ribs. In time, he began to shiver. Min La leaned close and advised him to relax and breathe deeply. This was easier said than done.
Twice water was offered to Íso Lin and both times he refused. Once he was offered food, and again he refused.
Hino Son remarked loudly to Nŏl that it wouldn’t be difficult to nudge Íso Lin out of the cart and leave him in the forest to freeze in the night.
Nŏl smiled over his shoulder and agreed. “A prisoner who won’t talk is of little value anyway.”
But these words had no effect on Íso Lin.
The road on which they traveled was an old one. The narrow path through the forest had been paved with stones many years ago, and seemed to also be frequently repaired. It was quite unlike the wide Prince Road, and also differed from other mountain paths which were seldom little more than beaten earth.
“My House maintains this road,” Nŏl had explained. “There are several villages that use it to get to the Prince Road. And it also leads to the estate.” He glanced back at Min La. “Few know of it. My uncle prefers to limit its usage to Housemembers. Though such a thing is technically illegal in Sona Gen.”
Min La, meanwhile, had taken an interest in Íso Lin. So Ga watched from under the blanket he had wrapped like a hood around his head as he studied Íso Lin for some time. The fog slid over the cart dividing them slightly from each other. The shape of Min La was blurred by it, as if he was a disappearing slowly. So Ga found this thought upsetting and put it from his mind. Instead, he looked up at the sky, where the sun was a shrouded disc of silver shining dully through a haze of fog of gray cloud cover.
“You must be tired,” Min La said presently, speaking to Íso Lin. The sound of his voice so surprised them that even Nŏl turned to glance back at him.
Íso Lin’s gaze flitted up from his hands, meeting Min La’s. Quickly, he looked away.
“It is some distance yet from our destination. If you wished to sleep, now would be the time. I don’t expect you’ll be doing much resting in the Ŏklo estate.” Without taking his eyes from Íso Lin, he added, “Is that not right, Nŏl?”
Nŏl nodded. “I would say so, yes.”
As So Ga watched, a glimmer of a smile flashed across Íso Lin’s lips. Had he not been watching him closely, he would have missed it. He could tell that Min La had seen it, too.
Min La smiled at Íso Lin and said, “I wonder: is it that you do not expect to reach the Ŏklo estate, or that you think your stay there will not be entirely unpleasant?”
Íso Lin’s face flickered with surprise. He looked at Min La, eyes wide, and then quickly looked away. For the first time all morning he seemed unsettled.
Nŏl glanced back at Min La, and then at Íso Lin. Hino Son gripped his sword and scanned the fog-shrouded forest.
Min La moved closer to the prisoner. He sat near his bound ankles and leaned forward. “You are so resolute in your silence because you think your time in ropes will soon come to an end. Patience is your only virtue, my friend. And you have patience because you think your life is not in danger. But these men—” he motioned to Hino Son and Nŏl— “if they believe that you were soon to be rescued or otherwise released, they would sooner cut your throat on this cart than let you forget what you did to the Sengís.”
To underscore Min La’s words, Hino Son placed his sword across his knees, hand on the hilt as if he was about to draw it from its sheath.
“These men,” Min La went on, “would like very much to know what you know about your comrades. But if there is a chance that you might escape without speaking, they would be content with your silence, if they could also have your life.” After a pause, he added, “And Nŏl Ŏklo has the authority to take it.”
He leaned much closer then and whispered something in Íso Lin’s ear that even So Ga could not hear. Then he drew back and looked at him, a small, pitying smile upon his lips. So Ga was struck by the effect his words had on the young prisoner. Íso Lin glanced around the cold, still forest. He studied the knots at his wrists. He glanced at the back of Nŏl, and then the blade on Hino Son’s knees. At last, he met Min La’s gaze.
He said, “I did not kill the Sengís.”
The sound of mute prisoner’s voice after such a prolonged silence so surprised them that they could scarcely conceal it. Nŏl, started and glanced once or twice over his shoulder into the back of the cart. Hino Son stared, eyes wide, his focus upon Min La. So Ga could not help but feel a small surge of pride that Min La had been the one to finally pull speech from the stubborn Íso Lin. Of course he had. In truth, So Ga was not in the least surprised.
Min La smiled at Íso Lin and nodded. “You merely told your companions which carriage they would be in.”
Íso Lin nodded, then licked his lips. “I didn’t know they would kill them.”
Hino Son said sharply, “Would that have mattered?”
Íso Lin said nothing. He stared at his hands.
“Who did kill the Sengís?” Min La asked.
He shook his head. “I do not know his name. Our group usually works with others from the forest when we’re robbing a carriage on the Prince Road. There aren’t many of us, so we require the numbers.”
“Other groups of bandits?”
“Who else would they be?” Íso Lin seemed genuinely baffled by the question.
“Would you recognize him if you saw him?”
The prisoner nodded vigorously.
Min La turned to Nŏl. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
Nŏl immediately brought the cart to stop. Leaving Hino Son to watch the prisoner, Min La and Nŏl went to stand alongside the horse. So Ga followed.
“How did you know he would speak?” Nŏl said in amazement. But So Ga could see that he was relieved that Min La had involved himself. As was So Ga, if he was being honest.
Min La answered, “You said last night that he had been threatened with torture at the Ŏklo estate. Does Ŏklo truly have this reputation?”
Nŏl nodded. “Yes.”
Min La glanced at So Ga, his eyebrows raised in a private, unspoken question that So Ga understood immediately. In reply, he offered a tiny nod. It was known in the king’s court that Ŏklo had a fierce reputation among Sona Gen criminals who dared to trespass onto their lands.
“There are only two reasons a man wouldn’t fear such a fate,” Min La said. “Either he is made of stone and knows no fear. Or—”
“Or,” Nŏl interrupted grimly, “he believes he has nothing to fear in the Ŏklo estate.”
Min La nodded. “That could mean nothing more than that he expects to be rescued before then. Or…” He dared not finish. But Nŏl understood.
“But if he thinks we’ll happily slit his throat here on the road—”
Min La nodded. “Like any good Houseless bandit, he values nothing more than his own life.” He reached forward suddenly and gripped Nŏl’s arm. “My friend,” he said in a whisper, “it might be better not to take him back to your uncle’s estate.”
“We cannot kill him here on the road,” Nŏl replied, whispering as well. “But we cannot let him go. We do need to know what he knows. Especially if…”
“Then what if we take him back to your estate, but do so in secret. Is there a way this can be done?”
So Ga was pleased to hear Min La say “we”, though it surprised him to learn this. Any aid offered to Nŏl in his effort to learn the secrets that their bandit prisoner carried would take important time away from their journey to Osa Gate. But So Ga believed, in that moment, that such a detour was necessary. More than a desire to help their friend, he also found himself eager to understand the strange, shadowed mystery concealed within the Ŏklo House. Whatever it was, it had led to the cruel deaths of three innocents.
Four, he reminded himself grimly.
Nŏl thought for a moment. “Perhaps. But it will be difficult without—”
At that moment, the silence of the forest was shattered by the snapping of a single twig.
Nŏl reached for his sword while Min La pushed So Ga behind him and took his knife from his bag. In the cart, Hino Son stood, sword ready. Glancing at him, So Ga could see that he was just as ready to kill Íso Lin as he was to protect him.
The fog had made a chamber of the small part of forest and road where they had stopped. Now that they were no longer moving through it, there seemed to have formed misty walls all around them. Tree trunks like warriors jutted through here and there and branches like arms dangled overhead. The air was thick with silence. So Ga could hear his heart beating, he could hear Min La’s hand tightening around the handle of his knife.
At last a shape emerged, a man clad in dark clothes, cloak hanging from him like a shroud of evening. A low hood hid his face, but his right hand grasped a short sword, left hand upon the hilt, ready to draw. As he approached, the fog closed behind him. So Ga couldn’t see if the man was alone or had with him a number of comrades. For the moment, it seemed either was equally possible. The only sound was the crunch of leaves under the man’s boots.
When he was still some distance away, the figure stopped.
“At last,” he said, in a voice that filled the little chamber of forest and was contained by the low ceiling of clouds. “I have found you.”
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