— I came to pay a visit – and indicated the mombelula. – Can we stay here for a while?
— Are they your friends? – asked suspiciously, a natural reaction to whoever was responsible for Godan.
She glanced at the Dragons, who seemed attentive to their conversation, but who still did not feel comfortable leaving the cabin, and said without lying:
— They are almakins of the Dul'Maojin Institute – and, knowing that she could not hide, since their natural arrogance would make them denounce, she added: – They're Dragons, dad. The Lightning Dragon, Vinshu Zawhart, and the Fire Dragon, Krission Dul'Maojin.
That last name seemed to have more effect on his father than their title. As if he had received some shocking information, he ran out of reaction for a few seconds. Then, turning to the others, he announced:
— It’s a Dul’Maojin!
And equal reactions of astonishment sprang up in the faces around them, soon replaced by one of joy, and it did not take long for an excited vibration to spread and infect everyone, who began to celebrate as if it were the beginning of a long awaited event.
Ashamed at that, Garo-lin simply lowered her head and moaned. She had been so excited about visiting her village that she did not even think they could act that way.
Ever since she had embarked on the mombelula and finally realized that she was on her way home, she had not imagined that they would receive them as if they were heroes or something of the sort. All she had the good sense to do at that moment was to spy on her mentor and see the grimace of his displeasure at the realization that those noisy welcome from the vilashis were for him.
But she did not have time to plan how she would deal with that situation, because someone else had come running on the stage and stood near her panting, staring at her as if she did not believe what she was seeing.
— Garo-nan? – she asked, acknowledging and also not believing.
Without saying anything, he dropped a bag he carried, scattering freshly caught fish on the wooden floor, and hugged her in a way that took her feet off the floor.
***
— They are all the same! – Zawhart exclaimed, peering through the portal at the movement of the village center, where the vilashis worked excitedly preparing what they said was a feast in honor of the illustrious visitors.
Since this was a rare occurrence at Godan, which had never before received guests as special as they, there was an atmosphere of excitement and urgency that enveloped the whole village. In the eyes of the Dragons, it seemed an immense confusion of vilashis pacing up and down the halls, each doing something or several at the same time. No one seemed to be quite sure what should be done, but everyone seemed to have at least one idea to give. One of the first conclusions they reached was that they would install the visitors in the best possible accommodation, and these were in the house of the Godan family, the descendants of the founders of the village.
— With yellow eyes and strange earth-colored hair mixed – Kidari said in a rhythm, as if reciting something, and then looked at her mentor, visibly waiting for approval.
He, in turn, made an impatient gesture, saying that now he did not have time to worry about her pronunciation.
The Godan house, besides being the largest in the village, was one of the only ones that possessed that space: a room with a low table and the floor lined, so that people could sit quietly in for a conversation. Because that family was the representative of the village, this was where small meetings and meetings were held to discuss administrative matters when it was not necessary to gather all on the center stage. It was a windowless space, but with a large portal facing the center of Godan, flanked by a small wooden floor area that ended on the stone steps to go straight into the village. There was also a sliding door on the side that connected the place with the rest of the house.
It was leaning against the portal that Zawhart lamented about what was happening:
— And what is this party? I still can't believe we came here! I thought it was a joke when... Kris? Kris! Are you listening?
— Hum? – the Fire Dragon, who until that moment was sitting at one end of the table with his gaze lost outside, turned to him as if now only noticed that he was not alone there.
— What are you thinking about, Kris? – Zawhart left his place and sat down with them, not hiding the fact that it was uncomfortable for him to sit directly on the floor and leaning over the table so that only his friend listened to the complaint. – We had to go to Routes and go back. That's what we agreed!
— Where did that useless vilashi go? – the Fire Dragon grunted, beginning to rise, with the clear intention of leaving.
But whatever he planned to do was interrupted by the door that opened and forced him to sit down again, since the one who passed by her was the lively and plump lady Godan, her hostess, bringing with her a wooden tray with drinks and cookies. Without any ceremony, she knelt down and placed rustic cups for each of them, leaving the tray in the middle. Then he sat down like them and let his arms rest casually on the table, asking:
— So are you friends with our Garo-lin?
Dul'Maojin and Zawhart looked at each other without knowing what to do, and Kidari smiled in her natural way.
***
Even leaving Godan as a child, Garo-lin remembered exactly what the village was like and, to her delight, everything remained exactly the same. While walking the paths she remembered so well, she could now see how things were different there from the rest of Almakia. As her people had a sung way of speaking, how late they were and how everything was simpler, without ceremony. Even so, just from breathing that familiar air made her want to cry.
She felt incredibly free, and every year she had spent at the Institute now seemed only a dream, a bad impression of her past.
Of course, she was aware that she could not get lost in this sensation, that it would not last long, that she would soon have to return to her rejected almakin reality and endure two more years within the walls of the Institute, but... For now, she would simply seize the moment. And with that, it was not difficult for Garo-nan to convince her that she should walk with him and check all things.
Although the landscape remained the same, people had inevitably changed. Her friends and especially her siblings had grown up and she saw new faces running through the houses.
After they had walked through the center of the village, which was where the concentration of workshops and places like the small school and the warehouse where a part of the harvest was stored, they went to the houses scattered around. Each family had a space within that fenced area, enough for their homes and a place where they could plant and maintain a vegetable garden, forming a mosaic of several terrain cut out by a myriad of paths. There was also a communal well, an orchard – which guaranteed a variety of foods within the village without the need to go on Routes – and a herbal garden grown by the ladies for medicines. However, it was not enough production to meet consumption at all times of the year and, therefore, had to resort to what came from outside to be able to stock.
Like the fortresses, the villages also had walls around them that protected them and demarcated their boundaries.
Although these walls were not of stones, but of tree trunks, felled when opening space for the construction of the village, they represented the same security. Although a peaceful people and having the protection of the Royal State, vilashis were not entirely sure of attacks from evil people. It was not something that always happened, but with the awareness that they did not have a certain origin and finally found a place, preventing was a sensible choice. So there were strategically placed lookouts points in the villages where it could see what was happening around and alert residents if there was any danger. Garo-lin had never witnessed an attack, but her father had already told her that when he was a boy, pirates had invaded the village and taken all the stored stock to Nanfan Storm and that it had been one of the most difficult icy periods that Godan had ever faced. Around the villa
ge, outside the fortified fortress, was tomato growing and potato plantations, where practically everyone worked. There was also a space dedicated exclusively to herbs, coffee grounds and pines – things that the Vashashis brought with them from outside Almakia and without which they could not live. And in areas where there were no plantations, especially near the river, the Inland Valley forest remained untouched.
Garo-nan led her out of the village and showed her a new stone bridge, which seemed to have been built a short time ago, and still had to be completed, linking the village path with the other bank of the Yue River. There she met several acquaintances returning from the plantation areas. They barely recognized her and were surprised to learn that she was the little Garo-lin from the sneezing of fire, who had gone to learn to be an almakin. With Garo-nan deftly informing them about the party that was to be held at night and passing on their mission to pass on the message, it was not long before they could turn around and get to the place she most wanted to see: her house.
Upon being received by her mother as soon as she had crossed the precarious grounds around the garden, once again Garo-lin cried and only with this could she sum up all the phrases of longing that she felt of the family without having to pronounce any of them.
Soon, she came across another new member of the Colinpis family, who did not know yet. Tearing a shy girl three years behind the bars of the robes, her mother introduced her to Nana-lin, who was practically a miniature of the older sister. Not knowing who this strange person was to whom her mother was celebrating so much, the baby just stood there watching, hoping that the visitor would soon leave and not stare at her with that silly smile. Her mother showed her Nana-lin, and it was not long before she began to count the years that had passed as she pushed her into the house.
Inside, she had noticed changes. With more siblings, the house was enlarged to house all of them, and her room, or the current bedroom of the family girls, seemed to have diminished in proportion to the bedspread scattered on the lined floor in which they slept. Then, doing something she had longed to do, she ran out the door of her old room, which led out onto the patio, and sat on the edge of the wooden floor that was suspended from the floor, smiling happily at her mother and at Garo-nan. They waited sitting on the patio while she was investigating the house.
Shaking her feet, as she used to do when she sat there, she asked her mother to speak of the older brothers, who were now scattered around Godan, each one finishing their tasks.
Mira-lin, her crying sister, whom she had last seen as a small girl of 10 years, was already grown up and actively participated in village life. She had taken her mother's position and was one of those responsible for the education of children, teaching them to read and write in the official language of Almakia – a key demand of the Royal State towards vilashis. As her mother had explained, that day Miralin had taken her group of children for a walk and would only return at dusk, so she still did not know that the older one was there.
Chari-lin, who had welcomed her that way and only released her when her father threatened to stay home that night if she did not finish her job, was now a 12-year-old boy. Because of his size, despite his young age, and at an early age to show an organized way of thinking, he was chosen to be part of the select group to which Garo-nan belonged and who was learning from the elders the ways of administering the village, in the future take that work.
Garo-nan said that his brother was already taking part in the trips to Routes, when it was time for the harvest to run, and that he made sure to bring books to Mira-lin with what he could get from his service, to help her with the children.
Juri-lin, her second sister, who had preferred to remain silent instead of talking, had revealed that she had the talent of family in the preparation of sweets, as well as her grandmother. Although Garo-lin remembers her as the six-year-old girl who could not understand why her sister was leaving, her mother said she was now in charge of the house. Being the eldest, at age 11, she still did not have an active role to play in the village and her responsibility was to help the mother with the tasks. At that moment, she was in the village with the women dealing with the preparation of the food for the night. As her mother had explained, she still did not talk much and would prefer to deliver a candy made in her own hand than to tell her something.
Mio-lin, the baby she had just seen with his little face wrapped in blankets, was now a smart five-year-old boy with Mira-lin's gang. Probably he would not recognize her as a sister, just like Nana-lin, but her mother had told her that he was fascinated by things that were not from the village and that he would look at her with bright eyes for the simple fact that she came from outside. Garo-nan said that he was a unique case and had already been discovered hidden in one of the carts that would go to Routes twice, trying to escape in an adventure.
While her mother was happily telling about her siblings or commenting on how much her daughter had grown up, Garo-lin could not help noticing how she had aged. Like her father, the wicks that had once been brown – like hers – were now whitish, the skin was wrinkled, and the eyes had diminished, as was common in the older people of the village. For a moment, she gathered this information with the fact that her siblings were large and she felt a tightness in her heart: she had lost several years of being able to be with them. And some questions stubbornly went through her mind: did going to the Institute really have been fruitful?
She looked at Garo-nan smiling, the one he had been with since he was born. Both he and everyone she had seen in her village that day carried those typical characteristics. They were a cheerful and smiling people, who would be able to find a good thing even in the face of the worst disaster. This way of being, which Garo-lin had inherited from her parents and grandparents, was being stifled in the Institute. Maybe that was why she had become so attached to Kidari. She had that same natural way of smiling as herself, which reminded her so much of home. And noticing Garo-nan's smile, she noticed him too.
It was the same as he remembered, but it seemed to have something different.
Although the two always lived together and were very close, they were not exactly alike. Garo-nan was an only child, protected by his mother, and so he had always been weaker than the boys in the village, who provoked him because of this. Garo-lin was the one who always defended him and did not think twice about accepting fights on behalf of his friend, returning home with skinned knees and a collection of conquered bruises.
If she knew how to punch so well that she could knock down the Fire Dragon, it was because she had a good training since she was little. Being smaller than her opponents, she was proportionately more agile and, having the advantage of the almaki of fire – even if she only used the fact to scare her – she always won the fights and imposed respect. In the games, which were usually those that contributed to his mother's white hair, Garo-nan always had to be persuaded to participate while she was the first to agree. Even at the time of the festivals, when the whole village was gathered on the center stage, he sat more than accompanying the music, content to just watch everyone else and clap, while Garo-lin only stopped when her legs could not stand it any longer stand.
Meanwhile, Garo-nan was now old enough to take his father's place in the village, and that should happen soon enough. This thought, engaged by something her mother had said, stopped her from rambling:
— Did you see the new bridge in the river, Garo-lin? – she asked, casting a proud glance at the boy. – It was Garo-nan who designed it!
He gave a half smile and was much more interested in a hole in the table next to him than in receiving the compliments.
— Really? – she asked, truly surprised.
— Made travel much easier – mother Colinpis continued saying. – We can visit the villages of the south and the west and come back the same day. Remember Tekei-no? The one who got lost in the woods once? He went to work in a mill in Durin village and is even going to marry a girl over there. Every Sunday he comes to visit us here in G
odan and brings the orders of flour. We no longer need to go to Routes to look for. It was a great thing that our Garo-nan thought.
— But they all helped build – he said, as if trying to diminish the brilliance that Mother Colinpis put in her participation in the work.
— But if you hadn't thought, no one would have done – the mother did not let him hide in humility and then told her daughter: – Since his father fell ill, Garo-nan is coordinating the village. A little more, Father Godan may not care more about things and rest.
Garo-lin thought of asking her friend how her father was, but as soon as she realized that his countenance had grown heavier when the subject was mentioned, she thought it best to remain quiet. Soon she would know in some way, without bothering him about something that was visible that he did not want to talk.
Upon realizing this, Mother Colinpis immediately changed the subject:
— Do you see Mira-lin's books? – she pointed into the bedroom, where there was a stack of books on top of the simple dresser. – She already has a lot of them and I'll say she's the smartest girl around here! Soon our children will be as intelligent as she is and the next generation will be as educated as the almakins!
Thinking best not to smash her mother's optimistic predictions, Garo-lin did not reply. But when she spoke of almakins, she remembered that she had left the Dragons alone in the village for a long time, which was not exactly a good thing. Then, explaining this to her mother and aided by Garo-nan, she managed to leave with the promise that she would return with them after the party at night.
On the way back, looking back, seeing her mother beckoning her with Nana-lin clinging to her neck, Garo-lin sighed, thinking she could not keep them long enough for the Dragons around.
— Are we that boring now? – Garo-nan asked, misinterpreting her sigh.
— It’s not that! – she hurried to answer, but not knowing how to explain the truth.
Almakia_The vilashi and the Dragons Page 16