It took Amina several
days to get used to the life of Groshna again. She wanted to meet her
old friends and help Emma and Kros in the house and especially in the
garden. In Tenera, Amina had gotten used to the servants taking care
of all the chores around the house, which had been puzzling to her at
first, but now it was equally odd to get back to it all. During the
first week she had no time to read at all, but little by little she
created a routine and everything settled down. Amina went to the
graveyard a couple of times every week but there were no Gahim there.
With Kros as her mental support, she managed to gather enough courage
to ask Mr. Cello if she could borrow some books from his personal
library at the town house.
Emma's garden had some
free space, and Amina was eager to show what she had learned. They
walked around the surrounding woods and gathered some herbs and dried
them for use later. They also gathered some seeds and picked good
spots for them either in the garden or nearby in the woods.
Amina was pleased. She
might not learn as much as she would in Tenera, but she was much
happier in Groshna.
One night Kros asked to
speak with Amina when Emma was getting Kragu ready for bed. He had
been writing to Amina's kin who were also carrying on the Fatil
legacy. Both from her mother's and father's side the kinsmen were
eager to meet her and test her skills as a storyteller. They weren't
angry that she had told the stories on her own, but they wanted to
make sure she was good enough and could remember every word
correctly.
Amina was surprised and
at first didn't quite understand what it all meant.
Kros compared it with
the apprentice test that Jared took – Amina knew herself that she
could remember all the stories well and everyone who knew her knew it
as well, but she had to take an official test to prove her talent,
even though the Fatil had no tests. If she wanted to prove her
skills, she could travel to visit her kin from both sides of her
family over the summer and get their approval for her storytelling.
Amina asked for a few
days to think about it. She stayed up late and went through the
situation in her mind: She had only been back at Groshna for a couple
of weeks and she wasn't really into travelling anywhere yet. On the
other hand she would love to meet other Fatil who could probably
teach her more stories. It would mean that her return to Tenera would
be postponed which might not be good for her school or studies of
herbalism, and she would likely get to see Jared even less than she
had hoped for. The interest her kinsmen showed her was almost scary
but still somehow very friendly and caring towards her and her
talent.
Amina made up her mind
and let Kros know her decision the first thing in the morning. She
would go visit her kin. She also apologised for not being able to
help more and for all the extra trouble it would take Kros to arrange
her travels again.
Kros told her not to be
sorry. He thanked her for all the help and explained that he had
enjoyed hearing from some of her more distant kin. The travels had
been planned ahead for the most part because all of her kin wanted
her to be safe. How long her travels would take, however, Kros
couldn't estimate.
***
The arrangements for
the first trip took another week and Kros checked and double-checked
every changes of carriages and nights spent at inns. The first
several days Amina would be travelling with some villagers they knew,
the next few with some people their kinsmen knew, and finally the
last few days with the relatives themselves. They were third cousins
to Kros, whom Amina had never met as far as she could remember.
On the day of the
departure, Amina was a little nervous, but it was nice to travel with
some familiar villagers. Kros had given her some money for inns and
food and a little extra for herself. Amina decided to save as much as
she could because she hadn't talked to Kros about her school fees yet
and she wasn't sure if Jared would have to time to make her tell him
over the summer.
The acquaintances of
her kin were polite people and they wanted to make sure as much as
the people from Groshna that their travelling plan with Amina was
consistent. As this was the case, the Groshnans said goodbye to Amina
and she travelled on with strangers. However, Amina was feeling safe
and confident, unlike during the previous summer, when her travels
had been far less planned ahead. Amina would from time to time hum
some songs she knew, which according to her travelling companions
were related to some stories they had heard. However, they were very
cautious to mention anything that could be associated with the Fatil.
Amina didn't push them. She knew very well that her conversations
with Jared while they were travelling were special.
Her kin greeted her
with joy and the last few days on the road were spent on small and
roads that were very little in use. These distant cousins didn't live
as far outside of civilisation as the cousins of Amina's mother did,
or as far from everything as her own home had been. They were still
very strict about their privacy.
Amina told her kin all
the stories she knew, and they picked the ones that were part of her
father's Fatil legacy. They had very little corrections to make to
the words she used and they taught her a few more stories. They also
taught her how to perform and express herself better. They suggested
that Amina could stay a couple of weeks and try her skills at a fair
in a town not too far from them. Amina was very excited and said yes
without blinking an eye, even though she felt a slight twinge of
homesickness every now and then.
The trip to the fair
took several hours in one direction alone and Amina was accompanied
by two young men, of whom one wasn't even Fatil as far as Amina knew.
As they got to the village, one of the men went to ask about the
schedule for the stories and to reserve Amina her turn. The other man
stayed with Amina. They walked around, looked at some of the stalls,
but Amina didn't see anything she wanted to buy. She had brought with
her the scarf she had received for her birthday the previous year and
she had the ring with Fatil engraving on her finger, but she kept
them both hidden for the time being.
The other kinsman
returned and gave Amina the time for her turn to tell stories. Then
he disappeared again into the crowd, which didn't seem to bother the
other man so Amina didn't ask about it. As her turn was drawing
closer, he took her towards a clearing on the edge of the village.
”We don't have a stage here because it kept getting burnt down on
several years, but as long as you use your voice properly, people
will hear you,” he instructed her. ”I will follow your
performance from a little further away, but I'm sure everything will
be just fine. If I can't hear you, I'll come closer, so as long as
you don't see me, you're speaking loud enough.”
Amina nodded and waited
for her turn. There were three storytellers before her but their
stories were obviously make-belief and, in Amina's view, pretty bad.
Amina placed the scarf on her shoulders and waited to be called out.
There was some low murmur in the audience, which Amina thought was
about her age. She was almost as nervous as she had been in Tenera,
but she focused and started by greeting the audience. Her Fatil
greeting obviously shocked some people but it was too late to change
anything, and Amina began her story and eventually finished it
successfully, without attempting any special effects in her telling.
After she finished, she courtseyd. Some of the people were polite
enough to applaud, but many seemed uncertain whether it would be
allright to applaud a Fatil. Amina ignored the gazes and walked into
the audience and disappeared as the next storyteller was called out.
After she got through
the crowd, Amina looked around for a while. She couldn't see her
kinsmen anywhere and walked around the streets and between the houses
and some of the stalls that were still standing in search for them.
There were fairly few people close to the stalls but there were no
familiar faces. Amina was getting a little worried that her relatives
might have left her behind – whether it was because of their fear
of how people would react or something else. Amina noticed some
villagers eye her in a less than friendly manner and she changed the
direction she was walking in. After a few turns, she stopped behind a
corner for a moment. She wanted to be sure no one was following her.
After a short while
other one of her kinsmen walked around the corner. ”Are you
allright?” he asked.
Amina nodded. ”I
wasn't expecting such mean looks.”
He shrugged. ”My
cousin is waiting at the edge of the village. If there's nothing more
you want to see here, we should head back. It's a bit gloomy to
travel in the dark but I doubt there are any free rooms in the
village tonight.”
Amina sighed. ”I only
came here to tell the stories. Let's go.”
They left the village
along some of the quieter roads and collected their carriage and two
horses from a stable a little way away where they had left them.
Amina was silent and
that seemed to bother the two men. They tried to get her to say
something. Eventually Amina took the scarf off her shoulders and the
ring off her finger and put them in her bag. Then she was ready to
speak. ”It's so very different here. My family never had this bad
reception anywhere. Of course mum and dad knew which villages to go
to, where it would be safe to tell the stories, but some of those
were bigger than this place. I know Fatil aren't welcome in many
places but... I don't know. This wasn't really fun.”
The Fatil cousin patted
her on the shoulder. ”We are closer to bigger cities here. People
are very cautious. It's not even recommended to tell anyone you're a
Fatil. There are many who would like to hear our stories but they are
afraid of getting into trouble. You are braver than most of us. I'm
sure that no one would harm a child, though. And you can think of it
this way – they must have learned what Fatil greetings sound like
from somewhere to be able to recognise them, and that in itself means
they are interested in history and the stories.”
”Do people really
hate us that much?” Amina asked. ”I thought it was just the
Kahtal that everyone wanted dead. Everything else was just because of
the orders that came from elsewhere – especially the kinds of
orders that were given by people who didn't understand or know
anything about Armaran – all of them unnecessary murder. Even
though many of the stories we Fatil tell are about the Kahtal and
their achievements, none of the stories in themselves are a praise to
the Kahtal. Our stories are as precise depiction of the events as
possible. That's what I've been taught. Have you ever spoken to any
Gahim? They can be very offended if you don't greet them properly.”
The men thought in
silence for a while. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn.
”Have you spoken to a
Gahim?” the other one ventured after some time.
”A
few. They are usually very fond of the stories. There were a couple
of them at my family's funeral. They don't want to harm us but many
of them have forgotten how to speak. I thought I could maybe help
them, since they're not welcome to most towns.”
The
men exchanged a look over Amina's head. ”It would probably be
interesting to talk to the Gahim. But is it really necessary to use
the proper greeting?”
Amina
shrugged. ”At least they answer you politely when you use the right
words.” She didn't dare to say the words out loud because she was
afraid someone might hear her. They were travelling down a dark road
with only three lit lanterns to guide their way, and anyone could be
hiding on the sides of the road, in the bushes. The fear for her own
and the others' safety began to gnaw inside of Amina.
”Perhaps
I'll try it one day. I don't remember seeing that many Gahim in my
life, and they have always been some distance away, and I have
deliberately avoided them. But maybe I could try to talk to one of
them,” Fatil cousin mused. ”You are right about our stories being
as accurate and trutful descriptions of the events they tell about as
possible. That's why we have rules about how new stories get added to
our repertory and how many witnesses are required to confirm the
contents, if it just is possible. And that is also why the Fatil do
not tell stories of their own family line. Though that is one of the
newer rules from a couple of thousand years ago, when the very first
Fatil succeeded in a Hendo and she became also a Kahtal. And of
course the occasional marriages between Fatil and Kahtal meant that
only other Fatil could tell about the deeds of those Kahtal, to keep
the stories unbiased. There were also many Fatil who thought of the
Kahtal as better or more valuable people and they really did praise
the Kahtal and tried to improve their position in the society over
everyone else.”
”Even
after the order to kill all Kahtal?” Amina asked, surprised.
He
hesitated for a moment. ”Yes. Even then. I think. They believed
that the Kahtal would be able to combine their forces and fight
anyone opposing them. It might have worked if they had all been in
one place, but the Kahtal were spread around Armaran and the rest of
the world. I think that they should have woken up to reality the
latest when the grand chargé d'affaires yielded under the pressure
from Everion and issued the order for his entire personal guard to be
executed. It should have silenced them and make them flee.”
Amina
bit her lip and sat in silence for a while. ”It must have been
horrible,” she said eventually in a quiet voice. ”The guardsmen
were protecting him with their lives and were willing to die for him
– even outside battle, when there was no real threat to their
master. I only ever thought about how sad he must've been to have to
banish all the Fatil – especially from the capital... but his own
guards who were Kahtal to the last man... Where did he get new guards
anyway?”
The
men were quiet longer than she had been a moment earlier. ”Many
people were loyal servants to the grand chargé d'affaires without
being Kahtal. Only the Kahtal were accepted to the guard, that is
true, but I'm sure there were plenty of other jobs available for
regular people. I assume they were the first replacement for the
guard.”
Amina
let out a deep sigh.
”You
are far too young to worry about things like these. Try to get some
sleep. We will wake you up when we get back home.”
Amina
nodded and closed her eyes. She dozed off for short periods of time
until they arrived perhaps a little after midnight.
Amina
spent a few more days with her father's kin until all the
preparations for her journey back were complete. She was a little
wistful but also satisfied to go home where she could live without
fear of being judged by what she was.
***
Amina
spent several weeks in Groshna, during which time Jared came to
visit. He didn't push her to talk to Kros about her school fees,
which made her happy. Her visit to her mother's kin was drawing near,
and Jared promised to travel with her for the first few days. It
changed the plans considerably, but Kros managed to settle everything
with the relatives just in time.
Amina
enjoyed her days with Jared even though there was also an apprentice
accompanying them. Amina got even more used to the deep-rooted stench
of metal. It was becoming as homely as the smell of milk with honey
in Emma's kitchen. Familiar and safe.
Amina's
mother's family were even more distant cousins than her father's had
been, but they treated Amina very well and made sure everything was
well with her. Amina spent a few weeks with them and, like with her
father's kin, told them all the stories she knew. Eventually Amina
was left with a handful of stories that weren't a part of her legacy
from either side of her family. With her mother's kin, Amina traveled
to a new place every few days and she met close to two dozen distant
cousins, aunts and uncles. They never suggested that Amina could
perform in public or taught her anything about standing in front of
an audience. Their sole interest was that Amina remembered everything
correctly, whether she ever planned to tell them out loud or not.
When
Amina returned to Groshna, the first signs of autumn were in the air.
The last night on the road was freezing cold and the stars were
bright in the moonless sky. Amina listened to the wail of the wind in
the small cracks in the windowsill. The last day she would travel
with a caravan that would take the road past the ruins where her
family had died. Amina couldn't sleep and in her groggy head the wind
sounded like forlorn cries, perhaps a lonely Panga wailing. In the
morning, she was so tired that she fell asleep almost as soon as she
had climbed into a carriage and only woke up when people shook her
awake as they were taking a break to let the horses drink. There
weren't too many miles left but the worst was still ahead for Amina.
She asked the director of the caravan if she could sit inside one of
the carriages with fabric covering it, as the wind had still a
freezing bite to it and she was afraid she'd catch a cold. The
director agreed to her request, and until they reached Groshna, Amina
kept her eyes strictly on the fabric of the carriage. As the caravan
came to a halt to let the horses drink again and she saw the familiar
buildings of Groshna, she felt relieved. Amina thanked all the people
in the caravan and went home. She was now officially Fatil. Amina
hadn't written to anyone in Tenera for a while and she spent the next
two days writing apologies. She promised to write to everyone again
soon, right after she'd have a plan for her return, even though she
still had no idea when that would be.
