Elinor. The Deserted Valley. Book 1. Mikhail Shelkov
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will once more stretch towards the horizon through the yellow sands carrying with them, warriors, merchants, and myself with my students.
In the desert, interesting things rarely happen; all the days are alike. To come across an oasis is great luck, but hardly can such a meeting be equated with an extraordinary event. Now, meeting the scorpio-angler or a school of sand dragons – that is a whole different story! Every night I pray to the stars for these meetings not to happen on our way. The soldiers guarding the caravan are arrogant and conceited, and the desert does not forgive such attitudes. It is unlikely that their strong bodies hold as strong a spirit.
Fortunately, both the anglers and dragons have long ago ceased to dwell near the trade routes. People, though slowly, are beginning to prevail in this war that has lasted for many centuries.
I do not know what else I should write about.
As I said before, writing about soldiers, merchants, and cameleers is silly.
About my disciples? They are ordinary children. Sometimes they bring me joy; sometimes, sorrow. Sometimes they delight in things, other times they upset themselves. They try to endure the hardships of camp life in the Great Desert. To some, it comes easy, to others it is difficult. Almost an adult, Calif constantly helps me and Lamis. It’s so good that he is near. He is no longer a boy, almost a man. The other students can be left to his care for a while. The girls have to be soothed every day and be told about the beautiful life in the Valley. Then they cease to moan and require so much attention. I understand them, although I have never been like them myself. They are the girls of noble families, used to houses with light walls and green gardens nearby, and not to the eternal heat and fiery air of the day and tangy cool of the night. In this regard, the boys are simpler, but with them there are other problems. One runs around all day long with a miniature sword, killing scorpions; another picks up all the prickles on the road to investigate them; and someone tries to start a fight with a peer… But I’m used to them. And I love them; I love them as their mentor.
Maybe I can become a good teacher. Mother is sure to approve the idea of school education becoming the main profession of my life. But then I’ll go mad from boredom. My path is different.
Then what else should I write about?
I’ve said enough about myself in the preceding pages.
I am trying to keep a diary the way it should be done by any Djunitian researcher who has self-respect. So I was taught by my father.
Father, Father…
I am definitely not in the mood to write more. That is all for today!
Jumanna Inaiya Khaniya Amatt
J. I. Kh. A., 4th day of the Elephant month, the year 531, era IV…”
This History of Elinor is an appendix to the book. Both the author of the book, and compiler of this diary strongly recommend that you read it before reading the main body of this book to learn more about the history, geography, life, and culture of states in Elinor and people inhabiting the continent.
Part 1. THE WAYS AND THE PATHS
CHAPTER 1. Lion constellation
Our way lies among high dunes, and worse
That under scorching Eternal Aster flying,
But leads us forward with his rabid force
He who is always young, the Sandy Lion!
1
Lamis finished writing. A sharp gust of dry wind broke in, throwing a handful of fine sand on the pages of the diary. The young woman shook off the sand, blew on the manuscript, and shut the diary. She closed the jar of ink and hid the writing feather. Tired from writing, she stretched her beautiful long bronze fingers as Moualdar, a gloomy boy of twelve years, ran into the tent. He came up close, hanging his head.
“I’m bored,” he grumbled.
“You can go feed the camels. The caravanners are always happy to be helped.”
“I don’t want to… I’m scared of camels,” his voice squeaked, reminding the young caretaker that the apprentice, despite his visage, was still just a boy.
His facial features are of an adult, yet he asks for attention enough for three kids to share.
By then Calif had also appeared under the canopy of the tent.
Calif was tall and stately. From the first glance, it was obvious he was a future warrior. Something in him was reminiscent of the young caretaker’s brother, only her brother’s hair was short and straight, while Calif’s was long and curly. Moreover, Calif’s eyes were not as stern. His figure was still one of a strong young man, but not yet a weather-beaten warrior.
It would be great if one day Calif came to learn the art of war from her brother!
But now Calif was headed to the Valley with her. And it was with him that the caretaker was pleased the most. As the eldest, he was always ready to help; he respected her and helped to monitor the disciples.
“Honorable Tangut Khatum said that he is better, so tomorrow at dawn, we are advancing!” said Lamis.
“Do you need any help?” Calif immediately blurted out.
“Yes!” All the minor problems were solved at once. “Collect the totes!” she said to Calif, then looked at Moualdar. “And you go help!”
The boy snorted discontentedly. Obviously, this was not how he wanted to dispel his boredom.
During the encampment, the disciples were allowed to devote the day to the classes of their choice, and completely unpack their hiking knapsacks. Yet the sun was already swiftly rolling towards the horizon; its rays no longer carried as much of the sizzling heat. Evening was approaching. It was time to get ready for the journey, so as not to bustle about during the morning gathering, but rather, after having leisurely broken their fast, to pack up the caravan and set off without delay.
Lamis, the faithful assistant, withdrew, dragging with her the disgruntled Moualdar. The well-mannered Calif turned to his caretaker and just before leaving made a traditional courteous bow. The canopy of the tent swung closed.
A smile lit up the young woman’s face.
He’s an absolute miracle!
Now it was necessary to bring all the disciples together, announce that the encampment would not be prolonged, and remind everyone to fill their waterskin bags to the brim with water.
Though I’ll still have to check before we set off… these are children. They see the world differently. Some still don’t understand what a dangerous place it is, they don’t understand there are no parents here who will blow the sand off them, or that though their caretaker is strong and brave, she is not unlimitedly sturdy – I will not be able to carry a separate bota bag for each of them. It will be useful if, from this passage through the Great Desert, everyone learned a certain lesson for themselves. The lesson that no school can give, the lesson that only life teaches.
It was also necessary to get everyone to bed early. Even a short respite is a knockout from the working rhythm. Hence, tomorrow’s wakening would be that much harder.
Therefore, for today, the essential thing was sleep! Sleep… a dream!
The