Armaran chapter 16

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.