Roman squeezed the girl and took a deep breath. "Your mother is dead," he said straight out. "She will go to the ancestors of the winds." Then he was silent.
Andra felt her father's tears fall on her hair. She was crying softly, too, clutching his arm tightly.
"My little girl, just cry, just cry," she heard him say. His deep voice sounded comforting in her ear.
There was an oppressive silence in the Shari-Chorten. Everyone knew how strong the love bond between Roman and Alea had been, which had now suddenly been broken. So surprising, overwhelming and devastating - for everyone a reminder of the vulnerability of happiness. A terrifying hint of fate, in the face of which every human being had to humbly bow in its little helplessness. Zaizura had demonstrated her power!
In the main room of the temple, Alea's body was laid out in front of the altar. Her body had been wrapped in a red cloth from which only h
At noon Roman went to the tailor's workshop to pick up his jacket. He was greeted warmly. It hurt to see his wife's former workplace - without her. Like all the other rooms in which Alea had been and exuded her sympathetic spirit, this one now also seemed empty and deserted. Alea's best friend came up to him, she too wore a red scarf around her neck in memory of her son Hroenka, she was holding Roman's jacket, which she had reworked for him. Roman silently took the dari and put it on. He now had, according to tradition, red laps and sleeves below the elbows. The red glowed ominously in contrast to the black of the rest of the clothes, but Roman nodded in satisfaction. He wanted to wear this red as long as his grief would last, even until the end of his life! He left his second dari and thanked the seamstress. Then he left the workshop, which again bitterly reminded him of how often he had come and gone here. As soon as he was outside he was overcome by heartbreaking grief. He gave a
The night passed its apex, and Raen was still sitting stiffly in front of the statue, the shadow of which reached gigantic under the roof. The flickering light of the few, still burning lamps gave Hyaun liveliness, and in front of Raen's tired gaze it even seemed as if He was breathing. Again and again he slipped almost imperceptibly into sleep, only to start again immediately, full of fear he might have dreamed something. Desperate, he threw both hands to his temples and begged Hyaun for help. “I can't do it! I can't do it. I will bring mischief again. Please help me! ”Raen wished disaster would come for him next. But nothing happened, neither one nor the other. The boy held up bravely until the early hours of the morning, when he finally lost the fight against sleep and his eyes finally closed. And of course he was dreaming.But the blood horse did not come to him, and the door to the future also remained firmly closed. Something else visited his dreams.
He was up to his knee in the water. Waves gently washed around his legs. With the city at his back, Kanaima looked out to sea. The bright sunlight glittered on the infinite surface of the wet element and blinded him. Wind caressed his face comfortably.How many times had he stood here with the wet sand between his toes?Many countless times, he thought, as countless as the many varied feelings that had always accompanied him. Kanaima looked down at herself. Through the clear water he could see the bottom next to his feet. It was five years since he left his aunt. In Boltha City he had matured into an upright young man with an alert look. Under the strict training of his uncle, his character had taken on more moderate traits, and his angry youthful impetus had been tamed and steered in the right direction. Kanaima remembered not liking Karlis-Renandi at first. His uncle was a tough man who had treated him as he would all his other common soldiers and not as a member of
It began to rain. The heavy drops pelted the wooden veranda in front of the school building. Raen shivered and pulled his jacket tighter around him. The warmth of spring had not yet prevailed. He averted his gaze from the window and looked back into the classroom, which had grown dark despite the burning oil lamps. The class was in cultural studies and on the wall was a large map of Hy and its immediate neighbors. At first, Raen hadn't known what to do with all the lines and curves and the names embedded in them, which were arranged without any apparent sense. But by now he knew them almost by heart and knew exactly where the mountains and the great rivers with the national borders were, where the sea was, where the capital Tena-lo-Ghan, where the Doban Pass led over the Junghal Mountains and of course also where the lost provinces were. He only knew the names of the neighboring countries. He found it all very interesting, but one question preoccupied him: why should he have to know
Then that's the war! Shazuralindu - the death of many unfortunate people. ”“ But that's stupid, why don't you share? ”Asked a student, it was Suneka, and Raen looked over at her. She looked more and more adult. Her face was narrow and with a pointed chin. Her dark eyes under the finely curved eyebrows fixed the teacher.“Yes, that is very stupid indeed! Because they only think of themselves at first, they destroy the peace and their friendship, ”said the gray man calmly."I don't understand, how can you not want to share?" Suneka continued to announce her lack of understanding."Yes, especially when you have more than enough!" Said another."We don't understand that either!" Suddenly all the rest of the students exclaimed almost simultaneously, and the gray man had to smile."I am glad that you do not understand that, because it shows that you are already firmly and safely on Hyaun's path," he said with satisfa
Hereke, who was still Raen's best friend, had also left school last year and started an apprenticeship with his father. He would become the successor riding master of the Shari clan, as was to be expected. Raen often visited him in the yard after school and watched him go about his new duties. This increased the impatience with which he waited for his own training. For a whole year now he had been seriously thinking about which future role he wanted to choose for himself and which place he wanted to occupy in the community of the clan. Again and again he had spoken to his father and Hyaunset Loenka about it and sought their advice. But he had never dared to express his real wish, namely that he wanted to become a warrior. He wanted to fight for his people in the name of Hyaun and protect them from danger, as his father did. But unfortunately it was so that he couldn't decide for himself. Only Hyaun chose his faithful and determined who could join the warriors. Anyway, Raen also knew
The gray one cleared his throat. “My advice for you, Raen: Don't worry about things that are none of your business, then you will be much better off in the future. There is plenty of other knowledge available to you. Remember the way of Hyaun and dedicate your talents to the community! ”That was the end of his speech. Raen nodded silently, bowed humbly goodbye and finally went out without a word.The teacher wondered what was so different about this boy? Why was he so stubborn when reprimanded? Thoughtfully, he got up from his pillow and went to the window through which he could see the silhouette of Raen. The streaky glass reinforced the impression that the boy was surrounded by an indefinable aura of shadowy, undulating shallows. But it wasn't his job to fathom these abysses, thought the Kennarparta. A higher authority would soon deal with this, the priests in the temple.The porch was soaked, and rainwa
Before Raen reached the work table, one of the little helpers came running up to him and happily called his name. It was his brother Resa, a young boy of five, and Raen bent down to give him a hug."Hello, Resa!" He said. "Well, are we busy at work?" He patted the head of the affectionate little one who hardly wanted to leave his side.“Yes, at work!”, Resa repeated happily, glad to finally have his beloved big brother with him. Raen went to the table with him. He apologized for being late, picked up a paring knife and turned to cutting the finished, cleaned greens. Next to him, standing on tiptoe, Resa watched every movement of his hand closely. He was a lively fellow and always cheerful, he still had no inkling of the fateful connection between his birth and his mother's death. Although he often asked about his “mom”, he didn't mean his real mother, but Hariu the farmer's wife, who breastfed him for a year and then raised him for three years u