CHAPTER XIV
The day dawned cold. They were still asleep, but before long the commotion of birds waking at that hour encouraged them to get up. The cool sea breeze swept over their bodies, and their light clothing could not keep Hanna from beginning to shiver. Gunuruk looked at her and realized that their outfits were hardly suitable for passing unnoticed. They needed to find something to cover themselves. The Snork wore little more than a belt holding up a small loincloth, while Hanna had only a dirty blouse, a sort of vest, and a pair of tight pants, all of them in tatters. Even her boots, a gift from Ynack, needed replacing.
And so they set off. Their spirits were still low, but gradually began to improve. Ákador, with its great wall, was already visible, though still far away. Even so, countless cottages dotted the coast, and many now surrounded Hanna and Gunuruk as they searched for anything they might use to cover themselves.
Their plan was to examine the clotheslines outside the little houses, hoping to find something suitable. But although the sun was already beginning to shine brightly, perhaps it was still too early for the inhabitants to hang out their clothes. After two fruitless hours, during which they had twice been forced to run away to avoid a beating, they spotted a small boat stranded on the shore.
When they approached, they saw that its hull was shattered, but its sail, though torn, was large and still in fairly good condition. Gunuruk drew his dagger and used its sharp blade to cut the ropes fastening the sail to the mast. He took the ropes as well, certain they would come in handy.
Then they slipped behind some large rocks and, hidden from anyone passing nearby, set to work.
From the very beginning, it became clear that their talents as dressmakers were limited—or rather, nonexistent. But after two attempts, during which their ridiculous appearances provoked more than a few bursts of laughter, they finally managed to make themselves reasonably respectable outfits.
With the help of the rope, Hanna even succeeded in giving her makeshift tunic a touch of style. Gunuruk was less fortunate. He looked more like a sack of potatoes.
His friend had to lend him a hand. After unwrapping him—for there was really no other way to describe what she did—she arranged the piece of cloth again and retied the ropes.
Although Gunuruk protested throughout the process, Hanna thought he actually looked rather cute.
Once dressed, they continued toward Ákador.
Gunuruk seemed comfortable in his new attire, once again enjoying the fresh scent of the sea. Hanna, however, felt as though her entire body itched. Salt from the sail now covered her sensitive skin, and she kept moving restlessly, scratching herself in an effort to relieve the irritation. She decided that as soon as she had the chance, she would take off the uncomfortable toga.
Once they resumed their journey, it took them only a few minutes to arrive.
After passing through the great wall, which was partly in ruins, they could finally see the city.
Ákador was enormous, and its streets were crowded. Everyone appeared to be human, for they saw no other kind of being. Hanna felt a little strange. It seemed like an ordinary city, almost as though she had returned to her former world, only several centuries earlier.
Not so long ago, Ákador had been a warrior kingdom, the birthplace of many great fighters. Its lands had once been plagued by Tuarks, which gave the local people no respite and had to be fought day after day with swords, spears, and bows.
But nothing remained of those days. No Tuarks. No warriors.
Since the fall of the last kingdom of Kettke, no one carrying a sword had been seen there. All the warriors were in Bógotra or Rilavia, fighting a war that seemed never to end.
The only reminders of that past were the stone wall surrounding the city and the many large houses built of rock, once belonging to the warriors who had been called away to fight.
Today, most of the population lived by fishing, although the surrounding lands also offered plentiful game. Without doubt, however, the city’s principal trade was its abundant catch from the sea. Fishermen spent days far offshore before selling their fish in Belonia or in the equally important city of Doria.
Ákador’s harbor was also very large, though few ships were moored there. Along its length stretched countless stalls, giving it the appearance of an open-air market.
This was the busiest part of the city. Because Ákador was relatively difficult to reach, its inhabitants had to find ways to trade for goods they could neither grow, hunt, nor manufacture themselves.
It was therefore common for fishermen to spend part of the profits from their catches in the very places where they sold them, returning with boats laden with valuable merchandise to trade again in their own city.
This work was usually carried out by women, who raised their piercing voices to assure everyone passing by that their goods were the finest to be found anywhere in the harbor.
Curiously enough, they all said the same thing.
“You won’t find anything better anywhere around here!” they shouted, sometimes in unison, as though they were a choir.
The racket was deafening, and Gunuruk soon decided to leave.
They were both hungry, and surrounded by food that the merchants never stopped offering them, he feared it would not be long before they did something foolish that might get them into trouble.
The two companions now walked cheerfully toward the southwestern part of the city.
Nobody seemed to notice that they were dressed in nothing more than an old sail, and throughout the morning they attracted hardly any attention.
In fact, they did attract attention once, and quite spectacularly.
Gunuruk, who usually held Hanna’s hand to steady his swaying walk, was mistaken on more than one occasion for a friendly little boy.
Most of the time this merely provoked Hanna’s laughter and the Snork’s anger, but on one occasion things got rather out of hand.
“What a chubby little boy!” a passing woman said kindly, looking at Gunuruk.
“She’s a girl,” Hanna replied, laughing as she affectionately stroked her companion.
Outraged by his friend’s mockery, the Snork pushed her hand away and gave her a small kick.
The woman standing before him did not approve.
“You naughty little girl! How dare you treat your mother like that?” she scolded, kneeling in front of him.
Gunuruk then uncovered his face, tilted his head upward, and began protesting furiously.
“You think girl I am?! Boy neither! SNORK!” he shouted emphatically.
The woman, seeing Gunuruk’s face—which was undoubtedly very different from the sweet, angelic features she had expected beneath the tunic—was so startled that she fell backward and nearly fainted.
The two companions had to run away.
But once they were some distance from the scene, Hanna began laughing so hard that tears streamed down her face.
“Never that do again! NEVER!” Gunuruk declared angrily.
Yet when he looked at his cheerful friend, he could not help joining in, and the two laughed together as they had not laughed at any other time during their journey.
When they finally regained their composure, they realized they were standing before Kémoras, the great palace of the ancient kingdom of Ákador, undoubtedly the most magnificent structure in the city.
Built from enormous stones, the palace seemed to gaze toward the nearby mountain of Isurom, as though longing to merge with it.
Numerous towers rose along its southern side, while the northern façade was elaborately carved with countless figures of beings and creatures that appeared to be fighting an eternal battle.
Below, on either side of its great entrance, stood a line of enormous statues. Like silent guards, they represented many of the kingdom’s greatest rulers.
There was the first of them, Kador the Great, descended from the very royal bloodline of Kettke, and there was the last, the extraordinarily young Koyan, who had succeeded in defeating Dreonte the Feared.
The great creature’s actual head rested beneath the statue.
Hanna was captivated by all these details, but the head of the enormous Tuark left her speechless.
It was gigantic!
Although only its gleaming skull remained, with its sharp teeth and magnificent horns, it still inspired terror.
She slowly and with some difficulty read the short inscriptions carved into most of the statues until she reached the last one.
Koyan, the Warrior, fierce with his sword, wise with his mind, he who defeated Dreonte, the nightmare of this people for generations, the last Tuark of Isurom, the last king of Kémoras.
They walked a little farther and, after leaving the great castle behind, finally found what they were looking for.
Gunuruk explained to Hanna what they needed to do. Then, carefully covering their faces, they entered a large inn on the outskirts of the city.
Such establishments were frequented by fishermen, and they hoped to find someone who would soon be sailing to Belonia.
After looking around, they sat down at a table.
Nobody seemed to pay them any attention. Everyone continued drinking and eating while watching two provocatively dressed women swaying near the bar.
A few minutes later, a waitress approached their table. Her clothes were so tight that her neckline looked ready to burst.
“What would you like to drink?” she asked pleasantly, smiling at Hanna, whose athletic build had evidently led her to mistake the girl for a handsome young man.
“We’re looking for someone who can take us to Belonia,” Hanna replied.
The waitress was surprised, realizing from her voice that she was a girl.
“Belonia? All right, I’ll ask my boss. But you’ll have to order something.”
“Bring us a glass of the cheapest thing you have,” Hanna answered.
She knew they would not be able to pay for it, and reasoned that the cheaper the drink, the smaller the problem would be.
The waitress walked away, swinging her hips energetically under the attentive gaze of nearly everyone in the room.
After stepping behind the bar and filling a small glass with God only knew what liquid, she began speaking to a stout, brutish-looking man with an impressive mustache.
He gave Hanna an unfriendly stare, which she did not appreciate, then pointed toward a man sitting a couple of tables away and continued speaking to the waitress.
She soon returned and set the glass down rather abruptly.
Then she indicated the man her employer had pointed out.
“His name is Dokias, and he’ll probably be sailing to Belonia in the next few days. But be careful. He’s not very friendly, and he’s usually in a foul mood.”
“Isn’t there anyone else?” Hanna asked, noticing how unpleasant the man looked.
“No. This isn’t a good season for fishing around here, and most of them spend their time drinking. Keep yourself covered, girl. That man has wandering eyes,” she whispered into Hanna’s ear.
Hanna’s makeshift clothing had loosened, revealing her thin shirt and part of one shoulder.
After securely fastening their clothes, the two approached Dokias’s table and sat down opposite him without saying a word.
“Are you Dokias?” Hanna asked.
“What do you want?” he replied irritably, turning his head in an effort to keep watching the spirited waitress.
“We need to go to Belonia. We’ve been told you’ll be sailing there soon.”
“Possibly. But that’s a voyage you might not be able to afford. Taking two stowaways aboard could get me into trouble,” he added indifferently.
“For you, we will work,” Gunuruk said, speaking for the first time.
The man was surprised to hear the Snork, for it was unusual to see one in those parts, although fishermen were accustomed to dealing with all kinds of beings.
“Ha, ha, ha! You two? Are you trying to ruin me? You wouldn’t even be able to pay for the food you’d eat!”
Hanna sprang to her feet, offended by his words.
“I’m strong, and so is my friend!” she shouted, approaching the stranger.
As Dokias watched her walk toward him, his gaze became indecent, as though he were trying to make out the shape of her body beneath the cloth.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said with a repulsive smile. “Maybe a little company wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”
He gestured for Hanna to sit beside him.
At first, she did not understand his invitation. After readjusting her outfit, which seemed determined not to cover her properly, she sat down next to him.
“You’re a very pretty girl,” he whispered, uncovering her face and beginning to touch her hair.
Hanna reacted immediately, striking his hand sharply.
Dokias did not appreciate that at all and began shouting angrily.
Gunuruk hurried over. To prevent matters from getting worse, for the rough sailor was genuinely offended, he drew his dagger and raised it where Dokias could see it.
“This object valuable is. Very valuable. Surely our voyage it can pay for.”
Hanna stared at him in disbelief.
How could he offer his dagger?
How could he even show it to that man?
What was Gunuruk planning?
Without the dagger, their journey would be meaningless. If that was the object they were supposed to deliver in Belonia, what would be the point of arriving without it?
“No, Gunuruk!” she cried.
“I have something valuable too,” she added, reaching toward the chain and pendant around her neck.
The moment Gunuruk saw what she was doing, he leaped onto the table, forgetting the dagger, and stopped Hanna from taking them out.
“No, Hanna. Calm you must be,” he said.
Everyone in the inn was now watching them, attracted by the commotion.
Meanwhile, Dokias had become fascinated by the little dagger. Holding it in his hands, he examined it carefully, trying to calculate how much someone in Belonia might pay for it.
If it truly came from the noble metals of Kettke, it could fetch a handsome reward.
Suddenly, a man rose from another table and approached them.
“Gunuruk?!” he exclaimed excitedly, as though he recognized him.
The Snork looked at him in surprise, for he was certain he had never seen him before.
“So you finally recovered! And this must be your mysterious friend,” the man continued.
Hanna looked at the bewildered Snork.
“Who are you? Us, do you know?” Gunuruk asked expectantly.
“I certainly know you, though come to think of it, it’s hardly surprising you don’t remember me. You were unconscious for almost the entire voyage, just like your friend. She didn’t even wake up when we reached Antraka. I feared for her life, but it seems she’s recovered too.”
“That man you are!” Gunuruk exclaimed.
He remembered the little his grandfather had told him about the accident, after which a fisherman had rescued them on the open sea near Doria and taken them to Antraka.
Hanna watched them in confusion, for she knew absolutely nothing about that part of her life.
“Yes, little one. I’m Bauros, an old fisherman who owes you both a great deal.”
“No. To you our lives we owe.”
“I did nothing any other fisherman wouldn’t have done. You can’t abandon two shipwreck survivors to their fate in the middle of the ocean.”
“I’d have thrown them overboard!” Dokias exclaimed with a grin.
“Yes, Dokias, we all know what you would have done. I said any other fisherman, not a miserable, greedy wretch,” Bauros replied deftly.
“You spend your time rescuing shipwreck survivors, yet you send your own sons to war. You’re nothing but a crazy old fool!” Dokias shouted angrily.
“My sons went of their own free will, honoring their ancestors, honoring the warrior people we once were, the people we seem to have forgotten. They went to protect us from the darkness that, whether you believe it or not, will soon reach this place as well. And if your sons weren’t cowards like their father, they wouldn’t hesitate to do the same!”
Bauros spoke furiously.
Then he turned toward Hanna and Gunuruk, his voice suddenly becoming very kind.
“But tell me, I heard you want to go to Belonia. Don’t worry. I’ll take you there, and I’ll be delighted to do it.”
“We don’t have much to offer you,” Hanna replied.
“You have nothing to offer me,” he said warmly.
Delighted by the old fisherman’s timely offer, Gunuruk, still standing on the table, reached for his dagger.
But Dokias, furious at Bauros’s words and realizing that his profitable arrangement was slipping away, shoved the Snork violently, sending him tumbling from the table.
“We made a deal. This dagger is mine. It belongs to me. If you want to leave with that lying old fool, that’s your problem,” he snapped.
Then he kicked Gunuruk, who was still jumping desperately in an effort to retrieve what belonged to him.
“Give it back!” Bauros shouted, outraged by such outrageous bullying.
Hanna had risen to her feet as the situation grew tense.
She struggled not to lose her temper.
Her blood was boiling. She did not want to make a scene, but that man was exhausting her patience.
“GIVE HIM BACK HIS DAGGER!” she shouted furiously.
“An old man, a girl, and a Snork! Come and take it if you can,” Dokias said, laughing.
Hanna forgot all about the possible consequences of what she was about to do.
Furious at the sailor’s grotesque behavior, and enraged by the way he kept laughing as Gunuruk struggled helplessly to recover his precious possession, she walked straight up to him.
With one hand, she seized the dagger.
With the other, she grabbed the startled man by the front of his clothes and lifted him, bunching the fabric in her fist until his eyes were level with hers, for Dokias was a little shorter than she was.
“You won’t need the old man or the Snork to take it from you. Don’t you think?” Hanna said, fixing him with a defiant stare as she shook him.
“All right! I don’t want to hit a woman,” he replied.
With his feet almost dangling above the floor and terrified out of his wits, he finally released the dagger.
Hanna let go of him too, dropping him to the ground.
Without another moment’s hesitation, Dokias fled, humiliated, while the entire tavern roared with laughter.
Gunuruk retrieved his dagger from the floor and tucked it into his belt, looking proudly at his friend.
At times, despite her fearful and sensitive nature, Hanna displayed incredible courage, as though nothing mattered to her.
Dokias had proved to be nothing more than a coward. But if he had stood up to her, things might have turned out differently, for he was a heavy, rough man.
Or perhaps not.
Sometimes Hanna seemed to possess superhuman strength, something that surprised even her.
Above all, however, there was her gaze.
It was astonishing.
Everyone present had been captivated by it, and more than a few applauded, amazed by her courage.
Bauros went to the bar to pay for the drink, which remained untouched exactly where the waitress had left it.
Then he returned to Hanna and Gunuruk, and the three of them left the inn.
Grateful for the encounter, Bauros invited them to his home to celebrate.
“You’ll come to my house, and we’ll enjoy a feast. Tomorrow we’ll set sail, and I’m certain we’ll be in Belonia in fewer than four moons.”
“There’s no need to go to so much trouble. Something to eat and a place to sleep will be more than enough,” Hanna said.
She thought the voyage alone would already cause the poor man enough inconvenience.
“Don’t worry. Snorks are generous beings, and old Aknus must certainly have lost his mind, because he wouldn’t let me leave without filling my boat with treasure.”
He spoke of the great chief of the Council as though he had known him before.
“It’s more than my wife and I could ever spend. Besides, nobody will stop this old sailor from traveling and working. Not even all the gold in Kettke!” he added with a smile.
“So that’s what happened. He rescued us and took us to Antraka,” Hanna whispered thoughtfully.
She was pleased to finally learn what had happened and looked at Gunuruk, who merely smiled without answering.
Finding Bauros in that tavern had been a fortunate coincidence.
He was clearly a man who never hesitated to share what he had, and Hanna and Gunuruk were soon won over by his friendly nature.
But while the Snork wondered whether their meeting had really been nothing more than chance, he also realized that the man seemed incapable of remaining silent.
Deep down, that bothered him from the very beginning.
“But tell me, what were you doing in the middle of the sea? Aknus made me promise not to tell anyone what happened. He was overjoyed by my discovery and insisted that I accept a valuable reward. I swear I’ve said nothing, and I never will, because I know how to keep a secret,” the old fisherman added.
Gunuruk looked at him incredulously and began to feel uncomfortable with the question.
“You can tell me what happened. Whatever it is, I’ll keep it to myself.”
“By the Dark Warriors, we were captured,” Gunuruk replied briefly.
“But where had you come from? Have they managed to take Bógotra?” Bauros asked with great concern.
“No. We were captured on the Island of Tover,” Hanna answered.
But the moment she saw her friend’s expression, she realized it was something she should have kept to herself.
“Tover!” Bauros exclaimed. “I’ve only been there once…”
He fell silent for a moment.
“And it’s certainly not somewhere I’d like to visit again. Where do you come from, little one? The strength flowing through your veins is surely that of a great warrior,” he asked, remembering her confrontation with Dokias.
“I…”
“Her memory she lost,” Gunuruk interrupted hastily. “Nothing of her homeland or her past she remembers.”
His tone was firm, clearly intended to put an end to the questioning.
Bauros seemed to understand.
They evidently did not wish to tell him very much, and he did not press the matter. He merely wondered what Gunuruk had been doing on Tover, for the circumstances seemed strangely familiar.
As the old fisherman had said, he had told nobody about his timely rescue, not even his wife.
Now he saw an opportunity to recount the adventure to the very people who had lived through it.
Amid stories and anecdotes, and after a long walk during which he did not stop talking for a moment, they finally reached his home.
Hanna did not mind. She listened attentively to everything Bauros told them about his adventures and how, not without difficulty, he had managed to bring them to Antraka.
Gunuruk, however, thought the man was simply a chatterbox who invented half the incidents as he went along.
His house stood outside the city, beside the sea, in what was undoubtedly an idyllic spot.
The day was sunny, though a little cold.
Waves could be heard breaking along the shore, filling the air with freshness, as though each breath carried a little piece of the ocean into their bodies.
“Get out of here, you damned Zargas!” Bauros shouted at a group of seagull-like birds perched on the roof beside the entrance.
“I’m home, woman! I’ve brought guests! And we’ll have to treat them like royalty!” he continued once inside.
Hanna and Gunuruk entered feeling terribly embarrassed, for Bauros never stopped talking or shouting, almost as though he were completely drunk.
His wife emerged into the living room looking rather displeased.
When she saw them, she stared at their unusual clothing in surprise, then returned silently to the kitchen and brought out two more plates, which she placed on the table.
“Sit down,” Bauros said. “And forgive my wife. She’s a woman of few words,” he added with a smile.
He then joined her in what appeared to be the kitchen.
The two companions looked at each other, shrugged, and sat down as instructed.
The house had a peculiar smell.
It was very clean and tidy, so the odor could hardly be blamed on dirt. Nevertheless, there was no point pretending otherwise: something smelled rather awful.
The room was filled with wooden furniture, and in a large fireplace, a couple of logs almost consumed by the flames kept the air warm.
After some time, Bauros and his wife came out of the kitchen.
While he went to the fireplace and stirred the glowing embers, she began filling the table with food.
She brought soup, flatbreads, fish, vegetables, and fruit, and finally carried out a large piece of meat, which she placed beside her husband near the fire.
The woman’s expression had softened. She even smiled whenever her eyes met Hanna’s or Gunuruk’s.
But she did not say a single word.
The two companions exchanged hungry glances.
Watching Bauros and his wife, they eagerly waited for their hosts to sit down so they could begin devouring the appetizing dishes.
At last, while the delicious piece of meat sizzled over the hot coals, everyone began to eat.
“We have more food. As much as you want, so don’t go hungry, youngsters,” Bauros said with his now familiar smile, drinking from a small bowl of soup.
Although ravenous, Hanna ate slowly and politely, carefully accepting whatever was served onto her plate.
Ever since she was born, she had been taught to mind her manners at the table.
Gunuruk, however, behaved as though he had not eaten in years.
Within minutes, every morsel of food within reach of his small hands had disappeared, leaving the old fisherman and his wife staring in amazement.
Even so, they seemed delighted that their guest was enjoying the feast so much and continually brought him more.
Hanna felt somewhat embarrassed by his behavior and more than once could not resist kicking him under the table in an effort to make him restrain himself.
But it was useless.
Only when Gunuruk finally began to satisfy his appetite did they start a conversation in which the two travelers recounted the ordeal of their journey, naturally leaving out certain details.
Their attentive hosts listened without interrupting.
“Those damned servants of evil! I’m sorry to hear that Antraka has also fallen prey to those filthy creatures. If I were younger, I wouldn’t hesitate to go and fight them,” Bauros declared angrily when they had finished.
“Don’t talk nonsense!” his wife retorted, equally upset. “What could a little fisherman like you possibly do? You’re an old windbag. Your words already cost us one son, and you almost convinced the other. If you’d kept your mouth shut, perhaps they’d both be here with us now. That isn’t our war!”
She continued speaking through her tears, wiping them away as she went.
“Yes, perhaps they’d be here with us. Or perhaps none of us would be here at all, because Ákador might no longer exist. The only thing holding those creatures back is the people who go to the front and give their lives for others. Nobody has even thanked us for Elam dying while protecting them in Bógotra. What do they think? That because we’re harmless fishermen, they have nothing to be grateful for?”
Bauros’s voice rose with anger.
“Nobody wants to listen to me. Everyone mocks me and my stories. But don’t worry. Soon, when there are no brave souls left, nothing will stop them from going wherever they please. And the day they reach this place, when they’re burning our homes, raping our women, and cutting our children’s throats, there will be plenty who admit I was right.”
“Be quiet! You’re lucky your son isn’t here to hear you. You already poisoned Elam’s mind, and you almost did the same to Filian,” the woman repeated. “It’s fortunate that, in the end, all you managed was to make him leave this place.”
She could not stop crying.
Hanna and Gunuruk witnessed the heated argument with great discomfort.
They did not know what to say. All they could do was look at the inconsolable woman, who seemed burdened by a terrible sorrow.
But when she noticed that her guests were almost as sad as she was, and that a tear had even begun rolling down Hanna’s cheek, she blew her nose loudly and recovered her smile.
“Filian is a tall, strong boy, and very handsome. He decided to go to Belonia. He said Ákador was too quiet for him,” she declared proudly, looking at Hanna and Gunuruk.
They answered with broad smiles.
Both were surprised by her words, for they thought they had heard something different at the tavern, but they paid it little attention.
“Yes, both my sons grew up healthy and strong, as tall and broad as that door,” Bauros said, pointing toward the great entrance to the house.
“You’re exaggerating,” his wife replied.
And she did not open her mouth again.
They continued eating.
Their stomachs seemed bottomless, but so did the pantry of that house, from which food kept emerging for quite some time.
Eventually everyone was satisfied.
Silently, the woman brought out a large kettle and placed it over the fire. Once it had heated, they all drank a little Dudok, or something resembling it.
After the digestive infusion, they continued talking.
Before long, Gunuruk fell peacefully asleep on the floor in a rather peculiar position.
It looked so strange and uncomfortable that the woman was initially alarmed, convinced his stomach had burst.
She could scarcely believe such a tiny creature could swallow so much food.
But when he began snoring thunderously, everyone laughed, and Hanna and Bauros continued chatting until the Snork woke up.
Hanna was delighted by the hospitality of these two people.
She deeply regretted that the Bábagos had unjustly stolen their jewels, for she would gladly have given them to Bauros and his wife to enjoy.
Yet she soon realized that they had no need of them.
Once Gunuruk had awakened, their hosts began showing them around the house.
After finally locating the source of the dreadful smell—which turned out to be a large quantity of fish drying in one of the rooms—they descended into a kind of cellar beneath the house.
It was hidden behind a trapdoor underneath a large chest.
“Take whatever you need. You’ll need it in Belonia,” Bauros said.
He lit a candle, and its flame soon illuminated a pile of jewels five or six times larger than the one Hanna had seen in Gunuruk’s bag.
“It’s incredible!” she exclaimed in astonishment.
“I told you Aknus insisted I take them. There was nothing I could do. He must have cared for you a great deal, little one,” Bauros said again, looking at Gunuruk.
“His grandson I am,” the Snork added.
“You’re Aknus’s grandson?! Then… you must also be Gunuk’s son,” Bauros asked in surprise.
“Yes, I am,” Gunuruk replied, suddenly realizing that perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut.
“Your father was small, but only in stature. His spirit was great—great and brave. Nobody would have imagined a Snork capable of doing what he did, but I knew it the moment I saw him. He had that look. I don’t know how to explain it. My sons had it too. I first saw it in Elam, and when he died, Filian had it as well. Then there was nothing I could do…”
Bauros fell silent for a moment.
Then he continued, looking at Hanna.
“You have it too, little one. I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here, but I’ve never felt a strength like…”
“Nothing we want! Nothing there we need! Upstairs again we must go!” Gunuruk interrupted hastily.
He took Hanna by the arm and led her out of the cellar, wondering with growing curiosity whether the man really had known his father.
Bauros was thoughtful too.
The Snork’s reaction puzzled him.
He had known Aknus for a long time, although that was another story. When he last saw him in Antraka, Aknus had behaved as though they were bound by a great friendship, even though they had met only a couple of times.
Why, then, had he not told him that the little Snork he had rescued was his grandson?
Perhaps that explained the enormous reward he had given him.
Perhaps it was connected to the secret that the Great Chief of Antraka had sworn long ago to keep.
Or perhaps Gunuruk had simply lied to impress him.
The puzzled fisherman scratched his head.
After closing the trapdoor and returning the chest to its place, he went back to the living room.
Then he began questioning Gunuruk, hoping to make him confess his invention.
At first, the Snork merely answered in confusion, not entirely understanding what the man was trying to accomplish.
“And what became of Gunuk the Warrior?”
“He disappear after the fall of the last kingdom. Away he went and never returned. Never again of him we heard,” Gunuruk answered sadly.
“I see,” Bauros replied, as though deep down he already knew that story.
He continued asking questions.
But when Gunuruk realized that the man was trying to prove his relationship to Aknus and Gunuk was a fraud, he became furious.
“Aknus’s grandson I AM! Gunuk’s son I AM! And if you not believe, I prove it!” Gunuruk shouted, slamming his dagger onto the table.
“Yes, little one, I’ve already seen your dagger. It’s a valuable object, from the very kingdom of kingdoms, but that proves nothing. Gunuk certainly had one like it. I swear I saw it. But couldn’t this be another?”
“This dagger Gunuk’s is! Unique it is! Once to Tuarkkett himself it belonged. My father always carried it, shining upon his belt. Everyone who knew him remembers his dagger too. Unmistakable it is! Perhaps YOU are the one who never knew Gunuk!” the Snork declared indignantly.
Bauros was offended by this last accusation, and his expression plainly showed it.
“I swear on my sons’ honor that I knew Gunuk. And if this old heart of mine were capable of breaking a promise, I would tell you every detail of my adventures with him. But I’ve never broken an oath, and I won’t begin now. If you insist that Gunuk never returned from his last journey, I can tell you without fear of being wrong that this is not his dagger.”
Gunuruk was startled by the force of Bauros’s final words.
They were sincere. Unequivocal.
But… why?
Suddenly, the Snork gave a little jump and stared at the old fisherman in astonishment, as though some illuminating thought had just occurred to him.
“Right you are. Only to impress you I lied. A simple Snork I am, son and grandson of humble builders,” he finally said nervously, though in a convincing tone.
“That’s not true. He really is Aknus’s grandson,” Hanna added.
She had remained silent until then and was astonished by the enormous lie her usually honest friend had told under Bauros’s questioning.
“Nothing wrong. A good man he is. Better this way. A small lie it is. Nothing important,” Gunuruk whispered to Hanna, encouraging her to play along.
“Never mind, little one. I’ll treat you as though I had Gunuk’s own son standing before me,” Bauros said with a smile, as though he had already forgotten the quarrel.
Hanna forced a smile, for she did not like the situation at all.
Gunuruk did the same.
But at that very moment, the Snork realized that this curious man, who seemed to invent every story he told, was far from being an old liar.
He was perhaps the most honest person Gunuruk had ever known.
And what truly made him remarkable was not what he said, but what he kept to himself.
Gunuruk suddenly felt terribly guilty for having led his friend to believe that this kind man, who had saved them and would now take them to Belonia, needed to be deceived as though he were merely a crazy old fool.
But he had to be strong.
The time for explanations would come.
They did little during the afternoon.
Once the small disagreement had been settled, Bauros’s wife said something to her husband and disappeared into one of the rooms.
When she returned, she carried a long, thin wooden rod.
She asked Hanna and Gunuruk to stand and, to their surprise, passed the rod over almost every part of their bodies.
Then she left again without a word, leaving them thoroughly bewildered.
Bauros, who had been watching attentively, invited them to take a walk along the beach.
He also took the opportunity to show them his boat.
It was fairly large and looked splendid, moored at the end of a small, dilapidated dock.
The sight made Hanna long to sail aboard it.
Taking a deep breath, encouraged, she thought that perhaps, if everything continued this way, she would soon be back in her own world.
The sun began to set, and the three returned to the house.
Bauros spent some time splitting pieces of wood. When he finished, Hanna and Gunuruk helped him carry some of the pieces to a large basket beside the fireplace.
His wife sat quietly sewing in the warmth of the fire.
When they entered, she said nothing. She merely looked up and smiled.
Bauros put the kettle on to heat, and while they drank another good cup of Dudok, they continued talking.
Gunuruk was more relaxed, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the conversation.
Well, everyone except the woman, who continued her work in silence.
And so, peacefully, dinner once again filled the table with almost as many delicacies as lunch.
This time, however, they barely touched the food, and nearly everything was returned to the pantry just as it had been served.
After the light supper, tiredness finally overtook them.
Very kindly, Bauros’s wife led them to a bedroom.
“This was my sons’ room. You can rest here,” she said sadly.
Each chose one of the two beds.
Within seconds, Gunuruk began snoring outrageously, as though nothing in the world troubled him.
Hanna, however, resisted falling asleep.
She removed the piece of sail that covered her, to which she seemed finally to have grown accustomed, and lay staring at the ceiling in the darkness.
It had been a wonderful day, in a magnificent place, and above all in the company of wonderful people.
Despite her exhaustion, she was almost sorry the day had ended.
It was possibly one of the best days she had spent in that world.
And although they had suffered the misfortune of meeting Dokias, everything else had gone splendidly.
She thought about Bauros.
He certainly was a man of extraordinary spirit, but his wife was different.
Although she tried to be friendly, sorrow was consuming her.
Her eyes did not lie.
Hanna grew very sad as well, and even shed a few more tears.
But soon that sadness turned to anger.
Anger toward those who would not allow people to live in peace.
Toward those who planted the seeds of terror in families.
And amid those troubled thoughts, she finally fell asleep.
Not, however, before noticing how her long legs extended several inches beyond the end of the little bed.
Remembering what Bauros had said, she thought that his sons could not have been nearly as large as he claimed.
That bed had clearly been made for someone considerably smaller than she was.