Remembrance was like years flowing away on water; the fate of a life was indeed as hard to predict as river water, with no knowing where it would rush. Thinking of the Long River of the past, the poet Balamo wore a distant expression and looked up at the deep blue sky, as if he wanted to listen to the revelations of the "red sky."
But the red Divine Sky was an ancient faith of the Wasteland. How could it guide him—guide a Mexica who had returned to the Dog-kin?
"The supreme Sun, the red sky! The great tree looked up to The Sun, looked up to the sky, trapped upon the high Qingqiu. He watched monkey run, watched the four-clawed Turkey flap about, watched Black Wolf charge toward the east, while the Divine Eagle soared in the sky! Back then, what was he thinking? Did he have complaints?... No, he did not!..."
"Even if he was trapped guarding the northern frontier, he could still settle his heart and defend this tiny patch of land at Qingqiu. Because His Highness was still in the Kingdom, and the great tree still had something to look forward to! And the County Magistrates everywhere, the enfeoffed nobles, the tribal chieftains—none of them dared have any excessive thoughts, any thoughts they should not have!..."
The poet Balamo lowered his eyes and recalled these years of garrisoning Qingqiu. Bitter as could be, he had held the northern frontier, serving as the Kingdom's Dog-kin Banner Unit transport commander. Yet the other legion commanders in the south had each expanded faster than the last, each controlled more territory than the last!
The old general Etalic controlled Purple Grass County, expanded along the Talsas River, and had even taken Sea Woman City on the southeastern coast. But that