Hot Obsidian - страница 40

“My name is Ramayana Arnika-Vadro,” she introduced herself to the younger boys. “You are welcome to join my caravan. May our journey be an easy one.”

…Patience. Patience. Patience. This is the very first lesson a Lifekeeper must learn and they all do. Even Jarmin, a six-year-old, had learned his lesson of patience years ago, so he endured the hardships of the desert journey stoically, without even a pip, even though they were nearly killing him. His teammates and the merchants did everything they could to ease the little boy’s suffering. Ramayana allowed Jarmin to sit on one of her dunewalkers instead of walking the sands himself. Juel, Orion, Bala, and Lainuver shared their water with him. The younger Lifekeepers – Kosta, Pai, Milian, and Oasis (Irin just didn’t care) – wanted to share theirs as well but Juel forbade that. Those four were still too young, so depriving them of water would be a sure way to turn four capable warriors into helpless children. Jarmin’s troubles aside, the journey was going well, probably thanks to Irin who kept watching for maskak scouts as he had promised and shot them all at sight.

Caravans rarely go straight to Border; they usually take a little detour to one of the smaller cities to have a rest, trade a bit, and refill their water supplies. There are two such cities on the way from Torgor to Border: Aren-Castell and Aldaren-Turin. Ramayana Arnika-Vadro preferred the latter. Juel and his team didn’t care what she chose; water and rest were all they could think about then.

When Aldaren-Turin had come into view, everyone cheered, even Ramayana’s most seasoned followers. But their joy was a bit different, tinged with their knowledge of the true hardships that awaited them beyond the Turin-Castell crossroads.

“Aren-Castell” means “sand castle” in Kuldaganian; “Aldaren-Turin” means “battle turret” which sounds much more serious. Soon, the Lifekeepers saw why. Every Kuldaganian city is surrounded by a wall but only Aldaren-Turin’s wall is made of a pure monolith, which is aren in its third, known only to Wanderers, aspect. Even more: that wall looks like a remnant of some other structure, gargantuan in its size, possibly an ancient fortress, broken at its foundation and carried away by some monstrous force. Rami and Otis, the first people of Aldaren-Turin, founded their city in the ruins of that structure and called its jagged outline a wall. Even defeated, the unnamed “turin” protects people still…

“Their ‘turin’ sounds familiar to ‘turris’,” mused Milian. “How tall do you think that ancient thing had been? Orion?”

Orion dozed off again; during the journey, he had learned to do that while walking and abused his new skill shamelessly. He jerked his head up as he heard Milian’s call and stared at Aldaren-Turin’s wall for a while, thinking. Slowly, a familiar smile dawned on his tired face. A moment later, he was already tugging at Jarmin’s cloak to wake him up. Lulled by the dunewalker’s steady pace, the boy was sleeping tightly; he didn’t look very happy at being awakened like that. But Orion asked, “Hey, kid, want to hear a fairy-tale?”, changing Jarmin’s mood in an instant. The little boy smiled, very carefully, of course, so his dry lips would not crack again.

With Milian and Jarmin both ready to listen now, Orion began his tale. He didn’t approve of that pathos-filled tone most professional storytellers used, so his stories always had that flavour of sincere simplicity in them that his teammates liked. His speech flowing with a steady, graceful pace like a wide river, his tone, changing and dancing to give every event a flavour, every character a voice, his unfailing confidence – nothing betrayed the fact that he was thinking up his stories on the go, picking them up everywhere, like a curious toddler picks up colourful pebbles and seashells from the ground.