Thirty years ago, when the Eju Empire learned that Bel had already crossed the border of Cape State and fled through the Xuya Desert into the Yudi River valley, it not only mustered a batch of divine artists and warriors from Lower Eju to hunt him down, but also issued official documents demanding that the Hatti Kingdom—and above all the city-states near the Yudi River valley—assist in the pursuit of Bel.
So the Hatti Kingdom issued a decree and sent it around to the various territories as a token gesture—more or less going through the motions. It only said that each place should send warriors to hunt Bel; it never said what would happen to anyone who sent no one. Every lord in every territory knew perfectly well that sending men after a ninth-rank grand mage—never mind whether they could find him, even if they did it was about the same as asking to die—was no concern of theirs. At most, if word came, they might pass it along.
Duke Town received the decree too. How could they possibly have any news of Bel? Still less could they send a blacksmith off to hunt a grand mage, so they took no measures at all—and of course no one ever called them to account for it.
Later the Isis Temple declared that Bel had been destroyed by the holy maiden Congni, but the authorities kept the details of the affair strictly to themselves; no one wanted to speak Bel's name again. The matter was considered closed and became history.
Yet it had left a tail that no one noticed: the decree the Hatti Kingdom had issued at the time was one that could never be revoked, and afterward everyone forgot to revoke it.
In truth there was nothing left for anyone to do—it was all over; no one was going to go looking for trouble by hunting down a grand mage who had vanished without a trace long ago.
What was even funnier: Duke Town had only ever received the decree to assist in hunting Bel. Afterward the Eju Empire never notified the Hatti Kingdom that Bel had been destroyed, so naturally the Hatti Kingdom did not forward a notice that had nothing to do with it to the territories within its borders. In theory, Duke Town knew nothing about any of it.
And in practice the people of Duke Town truly knew nothing. They had never heard of the decree from thirty years ago; apart from Old Nietzsche, no one even knew who Bel was. Yet today Dasti had dug that decree out and announced it in public—and that decree was still in force!
The townsfolk were all taken aback. Who was Bel? From what the town chief had said, he seemed to be a mage, a mage whom the Eju Empire and the Hatti Kingdom had jointly ordered hunted—surely a man very hard to deal with. With so many divine artists and warriors at their disposal, was there any need to send someone from little Duke Town? Why was the town chief so eager? Even if he wanted to curry favor with his betters, surely he needn't show off with a thing like this?
While everyone was exchanging glances and whispering, Old Nietzsche stepped forward and asked, "Town Chief, you say such a warrior has appeared in this town—who is he?"
Dasti pointed without expression at a spot in the crowd. "The one the god has favored. We all witnessed the divine miracle with our own eyes and saw how the guardian goddess blessed him. It's Amon."
The moment Amon heard the town chief read out such a decree, he understood what was going on: this was what the Old Madman and Gelie had arranged with Dasti the night before—find an excuse to get him out of Duke Town, or rather to banish him. But no one else understood. Someone shouted at once, "What? Amon! The town chief is sending a child to destroy a mage?"
Absurd—utterly, absolutely absurd! Never mind hunting a mage; sending a child into that perilous jungle was madness in itself. If the words hadn't come from Town Chief Dasti's mouth, the man would have been cursed up one side and down the other by now.
Town Chief Dasti shot back coldly, "Oh? Then shall I send you?"
That one sentence silenced the great majority of those who had meant to protest. But one man came tottering forward, knelt before the town chief, and said, "My lord, please send me..."
The man was Amon's father—and for once he had not drunk too much. Town Chief Dasti looked at him and asked without expression, "Are you a warrior? Have you ever received the guardian goddess's special favor? I'm sorry. I've already decided. Amon goes!"
Amon's father's lips worked; he wanted to say more, but Amon and Old Nietzsche had already taken him by either arm and raised him up, each whispering a few words into one of his ears. What he heard plainly shocked him, but in the end he nodded.
And so it was settled: Amon would go as the warrior sent out by Duke Town, deep into the jungle to hunt the evil grand mage Bel in execution of the kingdom's decree. The town chief gave Amon only one shichen to go home, pack his things, and set out at once, and he did not permit anyone to see him off past the edge of town.
By way of supervision, after sending the crowd away, Dasti personally accompanied Amon home. As far as Amon could remember, this was the first time the town chief had ever set foot in his family's yard. Amon was the "warrior" Duke Town had "chosen," so he deserved honor; the town chief, going by the book, presented him, in the name of the whole town, with a purse and a knife.
A warrior setting out needs money to buy things, and he needs a weapon too. The knife the town chief gave Amon was naturally a very well-made refined-iron knife—sharp and tough, slow to wear, not easily broken. It was just a bit small: hilt and all, under a chi long. Rather than hunting a grand mage with it, it would serve better for skinning game and cutting meat.
Amon had little to take with him. He brought only that branch of his and two leather bags: a small one to tuck inside his shirt for valuables, and a large one to sling over his shoulder that could hold a good deal. He meant to leave all twenty godstones he had to his father, but his father insisted he take half—out there he would certainly need money.
Town Chief Dasti put in from the side, "The money Amon needs for his journey ought to come from this town. I've already brought the purse."
Amon's father opened the purse and found five godstones, five gold coins, ten silver coins, and several dozen copper coins inside. Amon took one look, picked out the five godstones, and said, "Father, keep these. I'll be fine with the rest."
His father shook his head hard. "You take all the godstones. Take more godstones—it's more convenient that way."
Dasti couldn't help cutting in again. "Old drunkard, you don't really understand the world outside. In plenty of country taverns, one copper coin buys you a cup of wine. If you paid with a godstone, you could probably buy the whole tavern. You have to carry small change—it's convenient, and it doesn't stir up trouble!"
One godstone was worth twenty zhu of gold. The gold coins common on the continent each weighed one zhu; silver and copper coins each weighed half a zhu. One gold coin was worth twenty silver coins, and one silver coin was worth a hundred copper coins. Do the arithmetic: if somewhere a cup of wine sold for one copper coin, and Amon drank a cup and paid with a godstone, the tavern would have to give him thirty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine copper coins in change!
Amon's father's mouth hung wide open. A bottle of wine cost him one silver coin in Duke Town, and his own small cups could pour at most five cups from it. He gaped for a long while before he got out, "Son, you really ought to go out into the wider world!"
Town Chief Dasti left. Amon and his father divided the money; in the end Amon took only the purse the town chief had given him and left all twenty godstones with his father. And his father, having heard Dasti's words, fetched another thirty silver coins and insisted Amon take them—the money Fayol had given him last time.
The Old Madman and Amon both told the old drunkard that the town chief was merely finding an excuse to get Amon out of town: Xiaogu wanted revenge on Amon, so the boy should go off and lie low; everything was arranged, there was nothing to worry about, and he would come back after a while. Once only father and son were left in the house, no one knows what parting words they exchanged; when Amon left, there was an extra bottle of wine in his pack—his father's best.
The people of Duke Town saw Amon off to the eastern edge of town as if he were a warrior marching to war, and watched him walk into the winding path among the mountain woods. The path had been left by hunters, and by people who went to the edge of the hills near town to gather wild greens and fruit. Further in rose high ridges and towering peaks, the vegetation so dense it blotted out the sky. The Yudi River cut through the deep mountains, some two hundred li from Duke Town.
Cave-dwelling wild folk roamed the deep mountains; in the Barron Kingdom they were also called dwarves. But Amon had heard the Old Madman say that the cave dwellers were really no different from the people of Duke Town—their living conditions were simply harsher and they remained in an uncivilized state, which was why most of them looked rather short.
Amon knew the Old Madman was right. Duke Town had cave dwellers too—ones who came down out of the mountains to trade with the townsfolk. They could usually get the best iron ore and the finest refined-iron sand, and they knew very well that these were what the townsfolk liked best. The cave dwellers who came to town to trade were probably the cleverest of them; they could speak the continent's language too, though their vocabulary was not large.
The mine north of Duke Town even hired strong cave dwellers to help dig out ore. They were excellent miners; living among people for a long time, they had learned a great deal, and they were almost indistinguishable from the townsfolk of Duke Town—nothing at all like "wild folk." But most of the cave-dweller tribes deep in the mountains were still in a rather savage, benighted state, often attacking other tribes and travelers, and were sometimes very dangerous.
The townsfolk hunted in the eastern hills but rarely went deep into the wild. Apart from the Old Madman, no one in a hundred years had ever reached the banks of the Yudi River. Amon did not know where he was going. What the Old Madman had told him last night amounted to nothing more than finding an excuse to get him out of Duke Town and out of harm's way—but following this path, he could only go deeper into the mountains.
Amon walked briskly, though, looking around as he went, as if waiting for someone to appear. The Old Madman had said there were a few last things he would explain only once Amon had left; just now, among the crowd seeing him off, he had seen neither the Old Madman nor Town Chief Dasti.
The path wound along the steep slope, going deeper and deeper. Ahead stood tall trees everywhere, and even in the muggy weather the shade beneath them was cool. Sunlight fell on the path in sparse speckles; thick bushes grew along the roadside, many of them thorny and blooming with nameless wildflowers of every color. It was very quiet all around, yet there always seemed to be a breath of danger lurking, while the birdsong that drifted over now and then was so pleasant to hear. Anyone walking alone in the deep mountains probably feels the same.
Amon walked a long way. When he looked back, Duke Town was long out of sight; on every side was lush primeval forest, and the path underfoot grew rougher and harder to follow. He rounded a mountain pass and came onto a small rise, and there beneath a big tree he saw two people standing: Town Chief Dasti waiting there with Old Nietzsche.
Amon walked up and said, "Town Chief, Mr. Nietzsche—are you waiting for me? Is there something else you need to tell me?" The Old Madman had told Amon the day before to stop calling him teacher, so today, in front of Dasti, Amon addressed him as Mr. Nietzsche.
Old Nietzsche said nothing and merely glared at Dasti; crouched lazily at his feet was Schrödinger. Dasti cleared his throat and, as if steeling himself, produced something. "Amon, you are this town's warrior and deserve a reward. This is a gift from me personally. It wasn't convenient to bring it out in front of the others."
Only then did the Old Madman add, coolly, "It's a personal gift from Rod-Dick to Town Chief Dasti, in thanks for getting the Tears of the Gods here in Duke Town. That the town chief passes it on to you seems only natural. He took a good deal from the man, after all, while you got thirty silver coins and nearly had a finger cut off."
Since no one else was present, the Old Madman spoke his mind without reserve, and for the first time Amon saw the town chief flush red with embarrassment. What the town chief handed over was two certified documents, each in a fine waterproof case of hard cowhide, issued personally by Rod-Dick, chief administrator and chief priest-official of Cape State under the Eju Empire.
The documents were written on high-grade Eju papyrus, made from the stems of a reed that grew along the banks of the Roni River, split open and flattened, then worked and pressed through many processes. It was the handiest writing material there was, and one of the Eju Empire's important exports to the rest of the continent. The high-grade papyrus Amon was looking at was normally used only for official documents of the empire.
Amon could read, and he recognized one of them as an Eju citizenship certificate—but the line for the name was left blank, and at the very end Rod-Dick's signature and the seal of Cape State were unmistakably genuine. Whoever got it need only write in his own name to become a citizen of the Eju Empire. That Rod-Dick would give a thing like this to Dasti—it could only be called a precious gift.
Dasti himself was already a citizen of the Eju Empire, but this document could be given away, and that was an enormous favor. Leaving behind such a thing showed that Rod-Dick had thought the matter through thoroughly; as for how Dasti disposed of it, that was no concern of his.
The other document was a border pass of the Eju Empire—the most useful thing there was to a merchant. Traveling between countries required a pass issued by a border city-state; otherwise one might not be allowed through the checkpoint, or, with bad luck, might even be seized as a spy. Plainly it had been left for Dasti himself, to make it easier for him to come and go and do a little private business. Now, at the Old Madman's prompting—or under his coercion—Dasti gave that to Amon as well.
"Child, the envoy from the royal capital will reach Duke Town in three days, carrying the decision to punish you publicly. I found an excuse to send you away. With these two things, there will be no problem with your identity.
The road ahead is hard—take care of yourself. ...Don't thank me. I ought to be thanking you. If you hadn't mined out the Tears of the Gods, I could never have received so many gifts—even Xiaogu made a pile of money off it. ...If there's anything else, say it to Mr. Nietzsche.
I'm going back to town, and I'll see on the way whether anyone has followed us."
Dasti left, leaving the Old Madman and Amon alone to talk. Looking at his receding back, the Old Madman said, "Dasti is a good man. You should thank him! He gained a great deal because of you, and giving you these was only right. There are many things a man may do or may not do; some of them he ought to do, but they cost him something of his own. So long as he has done them for you, you should be grateful. Child, be sure to remember that."
Amon nodded. "I'll remember. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
The Old Madman pointed at Schrödinger by his feet. "Take this cat with you too."