Sunflowers swayed in the wind.
It was nearing sunset. The sun hung in the west, casting a peaceful light over the fields. At this hour, everything was orange. The shadows of the sunflowers looked like a crowd of crowned women. They seemed to dance. Beyond them, the river rippled slowly.
Laban walked along the path beside the wheat field, talking without pause.
“If you do that, even a wild horse won’t buck or lash out. But you must be careful. It’s difficult to get a horse into that state, and once you have, that’s exactly when you’re most likely to fall off. You have to know when that moment is coming. Then, when the horse wants to burst into a gallop, you can help it, become one with it, and stay on its back. Try it on Kkeongchung first.”
“Isn’t Kkeongchung an old donkey?”
“Of course. But a donkey has four legs too. There’s no creature with four moving legs that this method won’t work on. And since he’s an old donkey, you won’t be badly hurt if you do fall. You’re not afraid of falling, are you? Hm. Surely no son of mine could be.”
Laban firmly gripped the little feet fluttering beside his shoulders. The small boy on his shoulders stared fixedly at the distant fields, whether he heard Laban or not. It soon became clear what he was watching. Tina put her head out from among the wheat.
“You’re back. What have you been talking about all this time?”
Laban shrugged and lifted the boy high by the waist. The child burst into laughter.
“I was just telling him a few things I can teach him while I still have the time.”
“It sounded like riding.”
“That’s right. Riding was the one thing in which I always surpassed my brothers. Little of what I learned in my family has been useful, but I’m still proud of that.”
“But Laban, Gene is only three and a half. Your rocking horse is quite enough for a three-and-a-half-year-old.”
“Have you seen him ride it? No one his age rides a rocking horse like this boy. He’s a legendary rocking-horse rider.”
Tina laughed. Instead of laughing with her, Laban said,
“Wait a little longer. If it has four legs, he’ll claim to have ridden it. Cows, sheep, pigs, all of them.”
“What about chickens? They have two.”
“Chickens! Beneath the dignity of a man destined to be a great rider. Never tell Gene anything so disgraceful.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The three followed the path beside the wheat to their house. Laban set Gene on his shoulders, handed Tina two birds hanging from a string, and went to the stable.
Inside were an old donkey and a pair of horses, ordinary beasts of burden. It was partly because they could not afford better horses, but Laban cherished them. Whenever he returned from going out in the afternoon, he gathered sweet grass for them. He insisted that after a few more years of care like this, they would become stronger and faster. Tina did not believe feeding sweet grass could turn a packhorse into a fine steed, but had no intention of interfering with her husband’s hobby.
Yes, her husband.
In the land of sunflowers, they were a dexterous, quiet husband and his young, timid wife. They cultivated a wheat field, a vineyard, and a small patch of watermelons. The wheat supplied their daily bread, and they exchanged the surplus for household necessities. They sold all the grapes. The watermelons they dried, kept to eat throughout the year, and shared with their neighbors.
People thought Laban had earned money as a carpenter abroad and used it to buy the land. Tina kept it secret that he had read more books than the village priest. Whenever she was asked to dance, she refused without exception, and she always dressed like a peasant woman. Still, her beauty was known throughout the neighborhood. So, apparently, was her lack of skill at cooking.
Laban had built their house himself. The neighbors who visited admired the craftsmanship, and afterward called him “the handy fellow.” Sunflowers and chamomile grew around it. Behind the house lived the cats Gene tried to catch every day. The cats yawned while their tiny pursuer crept toward them, then moved just as his hands were about to reach them. But he was persistent, and in the end they sometimes fled to the roof.
When Gene burst into angry tears, Tina ran over, lifted him into her arms, and spun him around several times. Usually, he soon began laughing, though he was a proud child and sometimes continued shouting through his tears.
“Bad cats!”
“Quite right. Very bad. How dare they? Cats are the enemy nation. You’re at war with them, and at present, there’s a truce. We need peace talks. The place has been decided: the windowsill. You’ll be inside the window, and the cats outside. Father will put a flag of truce there. The refreshments for the talks will be delicious chicken. What do you say?”
“How can a child understand anything that complicated?”
Untroubled, Laban carried Gene to the window, sat him down, and raised a flag made from a knotted handkerchief. Then he took out a piece of chicken and tossed it onto the sill. The cats crowded in and jostled one another noisily.
When Gene shrieked with laughter, Laban said,
“Oh dear. They haven’t chosen their delegate for the peace talks. We’ll have to wait a little.”
Three years passed without incident. At first, they had been exceedingly cautious. By now, both had come to feel as though this life might go on forever.
Once a year, on the anniversary of his father’s death, Laban visited his family home in Epherium so as not to arouse suspicion. He returned with a wealth of rumors. The queen still had no heir. The king had taken three new concubines, but there had been no result. The king’s adviser Anthalon had become his seventh chamberlain. Twice, men had appeared claiming to have found the missing prince, and both had lost their heads. The king had grown irritable, and his second cousin, who had fathered five sons, haunted the palace day and night with his children.
There was news that interested Tina as well. General Livolla had not died in the rain that day. He had lost his left arm below the elbow, but still served the queen. Why had the spirit left him alive? Laban explained that it had to kill its appointed target first.
“But why didn’t the queen punish him when he failed?”
“She doesn’t consider it a failure. You and Gene disappeared, after all.”
“Then his being alive is proof that we’re safe?”
Laban tilted his head, then laughed.
“That’s one possible interpretation. At times like this, you’re remarkably clever.”
Tina only smiled. What Laban said was true. Though she had been born at the very bottom of society and learned nothing but dancing, she was good at understanding relationships and could readily devise a small scheme. Once, thinking she might do well if she studied, Laban had tried to teach her. But Tina soon shook her head at anything remote from daily life and practical advantage. There was no need to force her to do something she disliked, so he decided to leave it alone. Even without knowing a letter, Tina was the perfect woman for him.
Even so, Laban would have been more surprised had he heard what she said to Livolla when he captured her. But Tina had told no one what she said that day. Nor had she mentioned that the tune she hummed while he led her away carried a seductive magic passed down among dancers.
It was almost time for the annual visit to Epherium again. Ekenos’s death anniversary fell in late October, when summer was drawing to its end. Tina no longer became so tense when Laban went there. It was a great change from the first year, when she had kept the door tightly closed for ten whole days and never ventured outside.
When Laban promised to buy her a gift, Tina smiled and said she would like yellow silk. Laban smiled back.
“It’ll take about a fortnight to order.”
“I was wondering when you’d buy me a new skirt to replace the one you tore.”
“All right. I’ll see what I can do.”
Laban left the next day. As he did every year, he gave Tina his dagger before leaving. Ever since the promise he had first made in the watermill, it had become a kind of rite whenever they had to part. Back then, the dagger alone would not have been enough to defeat Livolla, so from the next time onward, he had coated its blade with poison.
But she had never needed to draw it again. As Gene grew, they feared he might touch the blade, and began keeping it on a high shelf inside the house. Still, they had not entirely shaken off the old shadows, and they never abandoned the custom.
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