Seagulls were crying. If he could hear the cries of sea birds, that meant land was nearby, Jazzguru thought. The old sailor had told him so.
How many days had passed since they descended the river and entered the sea? For Jazzguru, who couldn't count past the number of fingers on her hands, it was a great many days spent aboard ship.
The ship was enormous—Jazzguru had never seen such a fine vessel. Jazzguru's family was poor, and her parents had left her nothing but her name. In fact, they had sold her off as a slave. Jazzguru could not speak. She could hear, but when she was small, her throat had been damaged and she had lost her voice. She was less capable than others, but she could still work—only her family didn't have the money to make up for what she lacked.
Jazzguru had always thought she would become a concubine. She was told her appearance wasn't bad—her nose was a bit flat, but she had a charming face. She thought that becoming a concubine would make her happy. She had heard that if you became the main wife, you had to work every day, but if you were a concubine, you only had to attend to one master.
So when she was brought to the great house, she was delighted, thinking she could become a concubine.
"Please take care of her."
She had heard that her master would likely be a lecherous old man, but that wasn't the case at all. Her master turned out to be an extraordinarily beautiful person. Pure white hair, and a dignified, stunning beauty.
The master never faulted Jazzguru for being unable to speak, or for being unable to write or lacking an education.
Jazzguru learned the work here so she wouldn't become useless. As long as she kept learning, she could eat and wear fine clothes. The master was kind.
It was very good work.
So even when she was told they would board a ship and travel to a distant country, Jazzguru decided to follow. She had experienced a sea voyage once before, when the slave trader had taken her aboard, and this larger ship was far more comfortable than that journey.
Jazzguru didn't get seasick. The master seemed a little queasy, and the other maids weren't accustomed to sea travel either, so Jazzguru worked extra hard.
The master appeared to be ill. Her skin was pure white, her hair was pure white, and her eyes were red, like fruit. Simply stepping outside during the day was enough to burn her skin raw. Even bright places were too blinding for her to endure.
But the white skin, white hair, and red eyes were marks of the gods' choosing—and that was precisely what made her special. They were not inconveniences, the master explained.
The master held a very high position in the country, someone who could stand at the king's very side. As for why such an important person had to undertake a long journey to a faraway foreign land—it was, apparently, duty.
The master was a very special person who did what the king could not.
She was full of knowledge and taught Jazzguru all sorts of things. But if Jazzguru lingered too long, the other maids would glare at her, so she could only stay briefly.
"Hey! We're coming into port!"
A sailor was shouting.
Jazzguru leaned out over the side of the ship and looked at the port, which appeared small from this distance.
They had stopped at many ports along the way, but this time, it seemed to be the final destination. There was an overland route as well, but she had heard it was much shorter compared to the sea voyage.
"Jazzguru."
"!?"
The master had come. She was completely covered from head to toe in a veil to shield herself from the sunlight. On top of that, her face was slathered with medicinal ointment, and a maid held an umbrella over her.
"Please don't stay out too long."
"I understand."
The sunlight that scorched the skin was frightening, but the sea breeze still felt pleasant, or so they said. Her red eyes squinted against the glare.
Jazzgul had heard that her master was nearing forty. In Jazzgul's homeland, where people didn't live long, that was already grandfather-and-grandmother age. Jazzgul's own parents were around that age too. Since they spent all their time working the fields and tending livestock out in the open, their skin was deeply tanned, covered with wrinkles and spots. So the master, with her fair, unblemished skin, looked remarkably young.
"The country we're arriving in has far more water than Xiaoou."
Jazzgul nodded with a gulp.
"They grow both wheat and rice, and there's a great deal of green."
Grain was a luxury. Even those who worked the fields could hardly eat any of it after taxes took most of the harvest. The cities of Xiaoou thrived on trade, but venture a little further out and poverty-stricken villages were everywhere. When the rains failed or insect swarms multiplied, famine came quickly. Jazzgul had been sold off partly because of a bad harvest.
Making friends with a country that had abundant food was an enormously important matter. That was why her master had undertaken this long voyage.
Other countries spoke different languages, but since Jazzgul couldn't talk, there was no need to speak anyway. On the other hand, that meant she had to try much harder to listen.
Watching Jazzgul like this, her master reached over and stroked her head. Jazzgul narrowed her eyes like a baby goat and grinned happily.
Amid the noisy commotion of the crew preparing for arrival, the master and Jazzgul returned to their cabin.