So Ga gaped as the moonlight found the face of his savior. Standing before him, holding Mŭ Sen’s bow, one arrow nocked, was the homeless beggar. The same homeless beggar who had brought his medicine to the farmhouse and who had been sent away with payment of gold.
“Is he dead?” the beggar asked again. Then, “This was the last arrow. Didn’t think it would take so many to bring him down.”
He set the bow aside and struggled to roll the man over.
So Ga stared. “You?”
The young man didn’t seem to hear him. He took the mercenary’s dagger from his hand and used it to cut the dead man’s throat. Then he glanced at So Ga.
“Just to be sure,” he said.
“You?”
The beggar still didn’t answer.
“Why is it you?"
“We can’t stay here. These woods are likely filled with more of their friends.”
Then, leaving Mŭ Sen’s bow but taking the mercenary’s dagger, he pulled So Ga to his feet.
“Mŭ Sen?” So Ga managed to ask.
The beggar looked at him. “Is that the one back there in the road? The one who had the bow?”
So Ga nodded.
“Dead.”
“I must see him.”
“There is no time. Others will come.” The beggar still held So Ga’s arm, as if he was a small child who would slip loose and run off into the woods. He tried to pull him into a walk, away from the road and his dead guards.
So Ga yanked his arm free. “I must see him,” he repeated, more firmly this time.
The beggar — So Ga struggled to remember his name — grimaced and then nodded. “Quickly.”
They both went back towards the road, So Ga in the lead, limping on his aching foot, using the trees to steady himself in the dark.
Mŭ Sen was there in the middle of the road. On Lŏn was nearby. They were surrounded by dead mercenaries, seven dead enemies and two dead friends. Ávoth would be busy.
Sprawled next to Mŭ Sen was the one he had killed with his dagger, but the other dead mercenary closest to him was bleeding from his head, which seemed a bit misshapen. A bloodied stone rested nearby.
Beneath the fallen bodysword gleamed a growing pool of blood, his and the mercenaries’ mingling together. Mŭ Sen had been stabbed in the chest, probably by the mercenary who had had his head caved in.
“I couldn’t save him,” the beggar said and So Ga stared at him, surprised by his gentle tone, as if this Houseless young man understood implicitly that So Ga might be grieving the men who had died protecting him. Yet, at the same time, it didn’t surprise him. There was something very human about this beggar.
“Min La,” he said, suddenly remembering.
The beggar blinked in surprise, then nodded.
“We cannot linger.”
“Just a moment, please.”
So Ga walked away from him and knelt at the side of Mŭ Sen. In his heart, he uttered a hasty prayer, a wish for Mŭ Sen’s peaceful journey down the rivers of Ávoth. He caught himself glancing around, as if expecting to catch a glimpse of Ávoth, who was no doubt nearby.
Then he carefully opened Mŭ Sen’s collar, which was soaked in blood. Under it, he found the guard’s martial seal. He unfastened the chain and gathered it up, tucking it into the inner pocket of his own dirty golt. Then he went to On Lŏn and did the same.
Min La watched him without expression, arms crossed over his chest, one hand still grasping the mercenary’s dagger. He wore a bag on his back, the same he had had with him in the farmhouse.
Standing up from On Lŏn’s body — after tucking his martial seal into the same pocket with Mŭ Sen’s — So Ga said to him, “Why did you come back?”
He didn’t answer, but stared at So Ga’s feet as he approached.
“You have your gold,” So Ga said. “Why did you come back?”
The beggar still didn’t answer. Instead he asked, “What’s the matter with you?”
So Ga stopped and stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“You’re limping.”
“It’s nothing. I have a cut on my foot. It’s nothing.”
“Sit down. Let me see it.”
“I thought you said we didn’t have time.”
“We also don’t have time for me to carry you. Sit.” And he motioned to a log on the side of the road.
Obediently, if grudgingly, So Ga sat upon the log and peeled off his battered leather shoe and filthy cotton sock. The fabric was stuck to the wound and the sting when he pulled it free surprised him. He hissed quietly.
Min La crouched before him and motioned for him to hold up his foot. So Ga obeyed.
“When did this happen?”
“A few days ago. It’s nothing, a small cut from broken glass.”
“It has festered.” Abruptly, he reached forward and put the back of his hand on So Ga’s forehead. The prince was frozen in shock. “I don’t think you have a fever. Though you will, if we don’t treat this.”
“There isn’t any time,” So Ga protested. “I have to get back to—”
“By tomorrow you will not be able to walk. Another day or two and you will not be able to stand up. Soon after you will be unconscious. Tell me, can you make it back to your precious Palace before then? By the time you do, will they be able to save your foot?”
So Ga said nothing, unwilling to concede that the prickly little beggar had a point. Finally he asked, “What do you suggest?”
Min La sat back on his heels and thought for a moment. Finally he stood up. “Come with me.”
He offered no further information. But just as So Ga was about to put his sock back on, Min La fished something out of his bag and handed it to him.
It was a simple white sock, old but clean.
He said, “Don’t put that disgusting thing back on.”
Hesitating for a moment, So Ga at last took the sock, and quietly thanked him.
“Quickly,” Min La replied. “I don’t want to be here when their friends find them.”
The beggar knew a way inside Rensoth, despite the sealed gates. By the light of the moon he led So Ga to the wall at the back of the city, opposite the north gates. The narrow south gate there was well-guarded, but around the curve of the city wall he had found a slender opening. It seemed to be intended as a drain, but the wall around it had been neglected somewhat, resulting in the loosening of several stones. Min La moved these aside until he had cleared an opening by which they could slip into the city unseen. The gap was barely big enough for them. So Ga doubted that even an adult woman, much less a full-sized mercenary could squeeze through it. Once they were both through, Min La replaced the stones.
The sleeping city was utterly quiet and very dark despite the full moon. Curfew would not be lifted for several hours and they would be arrested if they were found by the city guards. But Min La seemed particularly adept at finding hidden paths.
So Ga struggled to keep up. In truth, his foot had begun to ache terribly. The inside of his shoe felt damp, he suspected because the wound was bleeding again. The beggar had been right, of course. If left untreated, soon enough his foot would be useless.
Once, while they walked, So Ga found himself asking him again, “Why did you come back?”
But just as before he didn’t answer. So Ga wondered why he had so naturally followed this young man into the Rensoth. Was it because he had saved his life? No, that wasn’t it. There was something else about him that compelled So Ga to trust him. As they crept through the soundless city, he hoped his judgment was not wrong. Perhaps his silent guide was leading him back to the mercenaries themselves. A Houseless beggar would probably do next to anything for a little payment. Why wouldn’t this beggar take their gold for delivering medicine and then turn around and sell him to the mercenaries for still more?
But that didn’t make sense, either. He wouldn’t have killed the mercenaries in the woods if he had intended to serve them. Unless, of course, he had killed those mercenaries in order to be the one who delivered the prince to their leader for payment.
So Ga knew he was overthinking. In that moment he desperately wished for the clarifying guidance of Hin Lan, who could help him navigate the uncertain situation in which he had found himself. It might not serve him to overthink, but he knew it was just as dangerous to trust blindly. Staring at the back of the Houseless beggar’s head, he felt himself suddenly isolated. There was no one who could help him navigate this matter except himself. Hin Lan was gone. Sen Rin was gone. They were all gone. He was alone. That reality hit him then and he felt tremendously pitiful.
When at last they arrived at their destination, So Ga was at once confused and also surprised at how obvious it was.
They stood before the wall of a temple. Of course the beggar would take him to a temple. Monks were known for helping the homeless and the Houseless and anyone in need. Temples were like sanctuaries. It was, in point of fact, a very smart place to hide. But there was nothing a temple could do for them at this hour.
Turning, So Ga said to Min La, “It is night. We cannot enter the temple until dawn.”
The beggar shook his head. “We have no choice.”
Then he stood by the wall and motioned to him. “Come. I will lift you over.”
“Over the wall?” So Ga was stunned. “We cannot just break in.”
“We have to. Come on.”
“I cannot climb a wall.”
The beggar seemed to be losing patience. “If you remain in the streets you will be arrested for breaking curfew. Those friends of yours will have no difficulty finding you tomorrow morning in the city jail. Climb the wall, or die.”
So Ga suspected such a declaration was much too dramatic. Surely there were other places to hide. Monks might be charitable people, but no one looked kindly on strangers climbing their walls. Most monks had trained guards among their number. Probably they would be set upon as soon as they dropped down from the wall into the temple grounds.
Nevertheless, it was true that they were breaking curfew by walking the streets at this hour. There very well might be other places to hide for a time in the city, but none with a wall. If they were lucky, they might go unnoticed inside the temple grounds until morning and then they could pretend to have entered through the front gates like a simple pair of pilgrims. Probably that was Min La’s plan. He was counting on the cover of night and the charity of the monks.
And so, frowning, So Ga obediently allowed Min La to hoist him to the top of the wall. He sat atop it for a moment, contemplating the correct way to drop down on the other side without twisting an ankle while Min La scrambled up behind him.
“Whose temple is this?” he found himself asking.
“Why? Does it matter?”
The beggar dropped down with a thump and then looked up at him. “Will you stay there through the night?”
“It’s a long way to jump.”
Sighing, Min La returned to the wall and held out his arm. “Very well, my lord.”
So Ga found his attitude irritating. He didn’t exactly expect to be treated like a prince by a random beggar, but this scrawny, Houseless man was surely lacking in basic courtesy. Still…
He used Min La’s outstretched arm to slow his descent a little and was glad to be on solid ground again. He’d managed to land only on his good foot, which was also a relief.
Just when he was taking stock of his good fortune, he looked past the beggar, who was impatiently waiting for him, and saw an approaching light. Min La noticed his expression of stunned fear, and looked over his shoulder to see what had caught So Ga’s eye.
Backing towards the wall, as if he could somehow scale it and escape unseen in the next few seconds, So Ga asked, “What should we do?”
Min La turned to face the approaching light and, crossing his arms, he muttered, “Very little we can do.”
Presently, the light — a small glass lantern hooked onto the end of a carved, wooden rod — brought with it a serene looking young monk. His head was shaved and he wore red robes of thick velvet. His feet were shod with simple leather sandals.
He bowed when he reached them. Despite this strange display of hospitality, So Ga found himself hiding more or less behind Min La.
Straightening from his bow, the monk looked at Min La and said, “You are a little later than expected.”
Min La blinked in surprise, but he said nothing.
“Come,” the monk said, turning. “All has been prepared.”
That devious old man, he really had me going back when he said to prepare. Those are the kinds of mentors who get people to haul rings to a volcano. Will I be famous? Oh yes. Will I survive? Well...