Chapter 3
– Written by Jute (@juteanworld on Tumblr, jutean on Discord – feel free to reach out to me there, on Bluesky or write an e-mail to jute [at] posteo.de)
Image of Toloka, the protagonist – Map of the island – Map of the village of Saavahai, Toloka’s home
Eventually they reached an area where everything was downright bright compared to the archway and seeing the large, sprawling garden on both sides of the river, divided by various smaller channels into smaller islands that were connected with bridges removed any doubt: The sign had in fact not been a practical joke. Thez had arrived in Garden Town.
The people here seemed to chiefly be growing various colorful herbs and plants used to make spices, the the green of the many leaves and stems mixing with red, purple, yellow petals, some far enough from all lanterns that they were only illuminated by the moonlight that was now shining down, unobstructed, as many trees had been cut down to make room for the herbalists (and whoever else was living here) and their plants.
Their scents, sharp and refreshing, floral, woody and earthy, were dizzying together. It must have been dozens of plants, a few he even recognized from cooking at home, as they were growing in his mother's and her neighbors' garden. Coriander, patchouli, ginger and there was also lemongrass again! But there were so many floating into his nose right now... A faint hope welled up in him that maybe one of those could be from a whiteberry bush. One would be enough.
While he was still under a herbal spell, the boat came abruptly to a halt, enough to shake him back and forth. The captain was tying it to a tiny pier near a bed of galangal shoots (or was it cardamom? They both have those long, vaguely surfboard-shaped leaves growing all over...) and got off, emptying the banana cache alongside what else there was in it into a jute bag that had also been stored there and then walked over to reach behind where Toloka was sitting, who turned around and noticed another cache.
The captain removed its lid and immediately attempted to cover it with his jute bag, but Toloka still managed to get a brief look at the treasure that the otherwise so exceedingly calm, even easygoing Mr. Lemongrass seemed so anxious to keep hidden: An off-white circular hewn, sculpted rock, a temple stone, something all villages had. Well, except for Toloka's. One of the many uncles in the village once had told him why: after a certain incident years before Toloka's birth, that had apparently driven everyone up the wall and wasted weeks of work, if not more (the incident, not his birth -- at least he hoped that his birth hadn't done the same...) the local priest was unceremoniously thrown out alongside the temple stone entrusted to them, which missed the priest's head only by a single finger's width.
Neither was ever heard of, or talked of again. Toloka didn't even ever find out if they had been an uncle or an aunt. Or the secret third thing that no one had ever bothered to explain him either. Regardless, it must have been a very big thing to have happened. From what he knew, temple stones were usually the most precious possession of a community, treating them with such callous disregard would normally surely be seen as a sacrilege?
He hadn't managed to get much than a glimpse of the temple stone that had been right next to him all along, but it did seem to have some of the expected religious mathematical inscriptions. How often had he been told by one of the elderly persons that he had visited that numbers are the foundation of the world, time and space, ultimately preceding and ruling even over the wildest spirits... everything not that he ever managed to wrap his head around it all.
Well, not like he needed to know anyway, he thought. Instead he would want to see if they were growing whiteberries here as well, after all. It was then he abruptly realized he never got around to actually reading up on them in the book he was carrying around with him the entire time in the jute bag with his other items, the flute, chert knife and the weird huge scale he had found in his village before leaving that was nothing like he had ever seen before. There was even his fishing rod, thin and lightweight enough that he hadn't even been sure anymore if he had been carrying it the entire time or not. Too much had happened that he had just forgotten about all of these things for a while, and maybe he really should find some time to read and fish before he would forget again.
But then again, even if the beautiful sight of all these familiar plants, the herbs and spices and their alluring scents had a profoundly calming effect on him, he did not want to be in such a strange, even weirdly unsettling town alone. Just the thought of that made him shiver.
He had never been to another village, much less a town, so he had no idea what to expect or what people here expected of him. hopefully not all too painfully obvious mission combined with his lack of knowledge made it unfortunately impossible to just keep to himself. On shore, as it had been on the river, he needed the guidance of the Captain, who at least gave the impression of knowing his way around trouble here.
Said man was just giving him a seemingly knowing smile again, as if he could read minds. He nodded briefly towards Toloka, inviting him to come along. Maybe he could also find out why he had been sitting next to a temple stone, and finding a place to sleep might also be ... easier this way. He finally got up and stepped onto the pier, following his guide down a small path carved into the cardamom or galangal field.
Toloka really wanted to gather some for food, or just for their scent. But he wasn't a local and it felt dangerous, and also rude to just pick them like that. He didn't even know if he would have a place to make food tonight! At that he realized he hadn't eaten all day, hopefully Mr. Lemongrass would at least share some bananas with him later the way he had done with his miraculous lemongrass oil earlier. He wasn't going to risk fishing here.
With his mind preoccupied with food, he remained silent, eyes wandering off into space as both of them continued down a river, on the rather narrow space between water and houses, and the book stayed in the bag again. His eyes kept catching this or that, more strikingly beautiful plants, tools he had never seen before, or people looking weirdly.
Not just their clothes, although some had bizarre shapes and colors so bright that he thought he would never see on people. Not just their behavior or walk either, which was largely completely different from what he knew from home. Almost everyone he saw on the paths, bridges and in the gardens seemed somehow very warm and standoffish at the same time. Greetings were heartily exchanged, but tensions and sparks clearly lingered in the air, as if they didn't know whether to trust each other but felt compelled to act like they did anyway.
No, what stood out the most to him was how different their bodies could look. Maybe it was a bit the light of the lanterns, but some seemed just so pale Toloka was worried they were deadly sick with something, yet they seemed perfectly healthy otherwise. And many also had so much hair all over their body he wasn't sure they were even normal humans, but rather a strange creation, half jungle beast, half human.
And even though many couldn't be much older than him, with their towering physique and often intimidating posture he was even gladder still now to not walk alongside the river alone. Where were they walking to, though? It wasn't exactly obvious, but he wasn't even sure he wanted to know. He just hoped they would eat soon. His thoughts returning to food again, he looked around to see if he could catch a glimpse of what people and what might be beast-people were having for dinner here.
For some reason, he assumed they had to be eating a lot of jungle animals here. He had never known anyone who did so, but heard stories about it more than once. It did unsettle him, what if he was asked to eat them,, too, and not doing so would have dire consequences?
He felt like he was starting to see why people home avoided traveling for the most part. But the mission... It was like he was being tormented from all sides by anxieties and stress now and he wished once again for nothing more than to be able to go back to his lazy days., to the calm of the home beach, fishing. At this point he would have closed his eyes and started dreaming, if it didn't mean risking falling into the water.
Instead, he tried to look towards the dark sky. The stars were apparently all invisible here. The lanterns at least gave you more than enough light, for a late evening it was even disorienting. The houses, all looking like huge solid wooden boxes were cast in a combination of light cones and shadows as if caught in a permanent dusk. They also had long wooden planks inexplicably sticking out periodically near the top, and at the other end that extended over the path to the river, or sometimes a larger channel, a rope was reaching down, towards the water. What were those even for?
After a while of wondering, enough time that he could have eaten a banana or two - the Captain actually entered one of those. Intimidated by the seemingly almost gigantic buildings that were at least twice as tall as even the community center at home, he hesitated, but quickly found staying out alone even more intimidating, so he followed, just before the large portal doors closed.
He had barely stepped inside when they snapped shut with the second loudest sound he had heard that day, a disturbingly resounding thud that he felt reverberating in his body. Once his ears had recovered, he realized it was actually darker inside than outside, and he had no idea where he or his travel companion was anymore. When his eyes started getting used to the darkness, light flooded the room from above and for a moment engulfed everything in white before revealing the room's purpose to him.
Although „room“ wasn't really the right word for it. It was much more of a cavern, taking up the entire height of the building, with very tall ladders leaning on huge shelves that reached up to the ceiling that seemed almost impossibly far away. In fact, the house seemed even larger on the inside, like three community centers stacked on top of each other with the ceilings removed.
And the shelves lining the walls were all filled with ... stuff. Things. Almost none of which Toloka recognized, but many were shiny little treasures, even decorated with gold or gems, and other ones seemed to be astonishingly elaborate carvings from wood. He realized much of these weird artifacts were in fact clocks the moment they in an astonishingly loud example of cacophony all announced a new hour at once, bells ringing, wood being knocked and somehow even small wooden birds emerging from their tiny house and singing. Toloka pressed his hands flat against his ears, trying to drown out the world around him, which seemed to already be ending for the third time today if the sounds were any indication. And it was taking its sweet time to give its goodbye, as if every voice wanted to stand out in total desperation- when it was finally over after what almost felt like an eternity. Toloka was certain he could have eaten a mango, if not even a coconut during that time.
Now that he was free from acoustic torment, he could finally relax and look around more. There were also many strange devices on the shelves, some like the ones he had seen at home, but most not at all. And also books, so many books, statues, and stones of various sizes and shapes, even temple stones! A collection so large of them he wondered if they could be, or are used to call together a meeting of all the spirits of the island.
Was this place actually a temple and he hadn't realized? After all, he had never seen one before and didn't know what they looked like. If yes, it would explain why his captain had come here! And when he looked around this mind-bending gift to the spirit realm, he did find Mr. Lemongrass standing at a table, the temple stone he had brought laid on it, with three more strange men in various colors on the other side.
He slowly moved closer to them, to get a better look, and was surprised to first be greeted by an almost overpowering scent of herbs and spices. Had they all worked in the garden or did they just rub the stuff on their bodies because it smelled so good? Perhaps he should try that, too, at some point...And their words were unintelligible to him. They sounded normal, but he had no idea what any of them meant, except for afew here and there. Were they even talking in the language of his village anymore?
Their grins, squinted eyes and crossed arms were in any case speaking a language of their own. He could see that they were supremely confident, probably very skilled at what they do (although he wasn't sure what it was, nor going to speculate to not offend spirits in case he was wrong), probably distrustful of people, especially anyone like him and his companion, and knowing a lot that he didn't. Once he willed himself to lose the staring contest he was having with the man on the left, the only one not looking at the captain, he saw why they all had seemed so strange to him from afar. All the things he hadn't been able to on other people outside well.
The man sitting in the middle, writing something down in an empty book, had a slender body with long black hair all over it, his arms, bare chest and neck, just not his head, which had extremely well-kempt short white hair growing on it instead. With how much care the man seemed to devote to its care, it resembled beautiful shiny fur than anything else. It felt to Toloka like he was facing the human version of a ratel, or honey badger. And it was so awesome! Those were his favorite animals by far. He liked to think they valued smart laziness as much as he did. Honey badger doesn't care. And now he was grinning enough he could probably win a grinning competition. He remembered then that he shouldn't be staring so much like that, it might give the wrong impression, and his instincts were telling him that in this place that alone could be fatal, he didn't even need to imagine the consequences.
So he looked to the man next to Mr. Ratel, standing to the right, who was watching and judging the Captain, evidently trying to look important, but something felt off. Even though he should have been the most intimidating, being the bulkiest and most muscular of the three, with similarly meticulously brushed hair as the man in the center who had now produced some sort of letter and clearly just couldn't stop talking...This man, furrowed eyebrows notwithstanding, seemed with a small snub nose and big, bright eyes more like someone who would break out in laughter any moment and offer you a big hug. Especially since he was evidently barely able to hide a grin as is, and that got only more obvious as Toloka grinned back at him.
All the anxiety in Toloka was starting to fade like sunlight in the evening. At the very least he felt something like interest towards other people for what must have been the first time in his life. And when he looked back to the first man and looked him over, standing on the left and still looking at him with an oddly empty expression, Toloka had to cover his mouth to not burst into laughter, although his eyes probably gave him away anyway and the man's expression slightly darkening in response did not help. Never had Toloka seen someone with bright red hair that was standing up like a broom before. Unlike his two associates, he appeared downright scrawny and had no hair over his unhealthily pale-looking body at all, and wore tight-fitting red clothing with black accents on it. Had Toloka's cardinal friend managed to get here first and then taken on a human form?
Mr. Ratel slamming his fist on the table and shouting brought him back to the temple. Or whatever this was.The Captain hadn't even flinched. He hadn't even dignified the outburst with a word, just crossed his arms and stared, which Toloka found admirable. Perhaps Mr. Lemongrass saw talking as a pointless bother, too, just like Toloka did! It was the first time he met someone that he had actually something in common with. If only school had been anything like that.
But Mr. Ratel had unfortunately now turned out to be the exact opposite, not at all what Toloka had imagined him to be at first. He had, in fact, robbed Toloka of his smile, which now had apparently had made the human cardinal smirk, which next to a man with a scrunched up face seemed downright threatening. The man's angry tapping of a pencil on the letter added to it, although it had no effect on the Captain who still hadn't broken eye contact and kept his arms crossed.
What were they so upset about here anyway? He looked down at the piece of paper and tried to read the handwriting.
„Testament to Harmony-Contract“ it said at the top. Then a lot of exhaustingly complicated sentences piled on like stones on top of each other so much they frequently toppled in his mind and he had to stack them up again, that is, reread the sentences. But it seemed to be about rules for safekeeping the temple stone from threats here. Either that was a thing some bigger temples did, or maybe this just was a terrifyingly big storeroom after all. What if the Captain's village's had been attacked as well, and he came here to bring the temple stone to safety? But then what were they all unhappy about?
One section was encircled in red ink, something he had never seen before. It was titled „Compensation for services rendered“
He could not believe his eyes. Whoever signed this letter promised its owner to work for days or even longer, depending on how long the temple stone was stored here, under threat of severe punishment if you refused! And he thought he was familiar with horrors. No surprise his travel companion was unwilling to just put his name on the paper then. But the man on the other side of the table was now smiling again. It was unnerving, he seemed way too sure of himself, probably knowing all other places in town that could help the captain hide the temple stone, and able to tell them to turn him away... Toloka was unpleasantly reminded of his home. News there traveled fast, and as people stuck together (except for him), if you lost anyone's trust you might as well have lost everyone's trust. He had seen or heard it happen a few times, and the only option in that case was to leave the village entirely. He had had nightmares of that happening to him all too frequently.
And now look where I am, he thought with a sigh. The Captain, to Toloka's surprise, also sighed and rubbed his eyes before giving Mr. Ratel a weary look and picking up the pen on the table.
Nooooo...
He wished he could do something to stop this from happening. But there was nothing. The pen wrote the name of his companion illegibly. All there was left for Toloka to do now was to wish he lived in a world where things had all gone much better, where he wasn't on the run, where he knew where to go and what to do -- but it was no use. All that did was make him close his eyes and refuse to even try to succeed with his mission. Things could still work out, he knew that from experience.
Hope is the strangest and yet strongest force in the world, one uncle and also many aunts had once taught him.
Since right now his captain was his only hope in not getting here, or really getting anywhere, he had to support him, help him -- he winced visibly much to the amusement of the human-looking cardinal (cardinal-looking human? Whatever.) -- with whatever labor horrors he would be saddled with. The ghastly look on the Captain's face as if he had just seen a spirit all too soon, heralding his demise, made it clear how much it was needed.
Mr. Ratel signed it as well, handed him a second copy to sign, and then held up his hand, waited for the Captain to do the same and then firmly clasped it for a moment. A symbol of friendly agreement, Toloka knew. But here it felt like mockery, especially when in combination with the mock-frown that was clearly attempting to hide a smile. He got up and motioned for both Mr. Lemongrass and Toloka to move towards the door.
As if trying to ensure they both would actually leave, they were escorted out by the three from the table and out of the house. Outside, things seemed much quieter now, with less people outside. Even though not much time could have passed! But now all the unintelligible greetings and grunts and shouts were gone, and only the more familiar sounds of wildlife, the calls of animals and the rustling of the leaves and splashing of the water in the river and canals remained. Especially all the many birds that always seemed to hide somewhere made their presence known, some very noisily, some much more melodic. In a way, it was slightly comforting, reminding him of home. But then he remembered everything else about home and a shiver went down his spine. Now, home was not a place he wanted to be anymore, but at least the howling owls would treat him with the same indifference as always.
Then, they began moving to somewhere else, apparently located some channels and bridges away. Toloka was certain it would be one of those „workhouses“ he had heard of in horror stories from his grandmother, who would talk about her mother having been forced to spin yarn and weave clothes all day because she had taken some fruit for her children from the orchard of the village she was living in at the time... some bandits from overseas had taken it over and demanded all the fruit for themselves, but she had refused to hand it over. Her father was mostly left to take care of her, and she would later leave the village alone to escape having this happen to herself. All of that was meant to be long in the past, the bandits pushed off the island, but what if they had returned, or this place had them, too?
It's not like he was scared, he told himself. The shaking was definitely more from, uh, excitement? At being able to help the Captain and showing everyone else he wouldn't be pushed around no matter what they would throw at him. He hadn't come on this journey for that. It was just more choppy water to navigate on his mental river.
He could just use a little bit of a snack before, oh, and he still wanted to ask them if they grew whiteberries here -- as his mind trailed off, he felt gradually more at ease, and began to notice peculiar scents in the air. It was someone cooking, frying even, coriander and ginger, something fruity, perhaps a mango, but above all loomed the unsettling smell of death. As if some animal had given up its life in that building -- oh no. He might just have the culinary experience of a lifetime today.
As the smells got stronger, so did some peculiar, rhythmic sounds. Weird sounds that neither resembled a song nor any kind of noise Toloka was familiar with, mixed with loud, repetitive shouting of words he could not make out, sometimes seeming like it was guttural scream. His first thought was of wild animals on the loose, but everyone around him was much too calm for that to make sense. In fact, it seemed like they were just annoyed by them, like you would at a dog that doesn't stop barking.
They were now approaching something that seemed like a community hall that also served as a collective place for meals. Near it a large collection of people had apparently gathered, maybe also happily expecting good food.
But Toloka found it hard to look forward to it like he usually did. Instead, he would even have held his nose closed if he hadn’t been concerned it could seem insulting. Or his ears. He couldn't decide which he'd rather do, actually.
As they got closer to the building, the sounds and screams became harder to ignore and drilled themselves into Toloka's skull. Except for when he was with the fishers or the elderly, who lived a life as slow and often lonely as he did, he usually didn't even pay attention to what people said anymore, trying to live in his own world, but the rhythms pierced it relentlessly, and the endlessly repetitive shouts finally became recognizable as they penetrated the perimeter of his mind:
ahh, ahh, tof fa, toho-toho, ahh ahh, tof fa ...
A few moments later it was punctuated by loud clattering sounds almost drowning out the voices, followed by squeaking and metallic sounds that seemed to release plumes of dirt into the air, just barely visible in the light of the lamps alongside the path. Everything else was hidden from Toloka's sight due to the crowd of people that had gathered in front of whatever was causing the commotion and blocked his path.
He would have to climb somewhere, but there was nothing -- except for the rope hanging down from the planks strutting out from the buildings that he had noticed earlier. Not thinking any more, he dropped his costly belongings on the path, jumped off the shore and grabbed the rope with enough force it send him flying back and forth, dangling alternatively in the way of both boats and more passerbys. Still undeterred, his curiosity mustered up some of his last strength and he began climbing up, the rope burning into his hands as he did so. Somewhere in his mind the question of why he now put so much effort into so little thought, rather than the opposite as before, but the noise and shouting, or maybe more chanting really, drowned it out. After a minute or two he could peek over the heads of the crowd and finally see the people responsible for all the commotion.
A man with strangely bright blue hair in black clothes with white highlights and skull motives was dancing to a drum beat coming from a device like the one had seen at the community center, with moves that would have put even the most talented dancing aunt at home to shame. Somehow rigid and fluid at the same time, effortlessly alternating between crisscrossing his arms back and forth and moving them up and down like water, they were mesmerizing. Alongside that, the man was still shouting words from behind a triangular black cloth covering his mouth and nose that made little sense to Toloka, but their rhythm was inescapable and he couldn't help but for once in his life involuntarily pay attention to what he was hearing.
Amaf’a Vutamatova! Aso-aso vue. Amo’mo ji...
Even though he was clinging to a rope swinging over the water, he couldn’t help but bob his head alongside it.If he had been on solid ground, he might have felt a compulsion to try to copy the movements.
The ... artist was backed by his three companions wearing the same black outfit, two men with equally blue hair and a woman with pink hair holding up the device in the air, all perfectly mirroring his moves while chanting.
Vut-Vut-Vutama-tova... Vut-Vut-Vutama-tova...
At that point Toloka’s arms tired enough for him to lose his grip on the rope and he fell straight into the small channel with a yelp, splashing water on all the bystanders surrounding the dancers who managed to remain dry and unperturbed by it, still repeating the same words over and over, although they were for a moment drowned out by the surprised screams of the now wet audience.
Toloka quickly tried to swim back to the shore, only to lock eyes with the Captain. His expression was difficult to read, it could be annoyance, dismay, pity or any combination of them. Toloka had to admit to himself that he had never been the best at reading people’s faces, unlike books. Though, judging by how Mr. Lemongrass was extending a hand out to help Toloka out of the water and apparently had guarded the belongings he had left behind on land, he couldn’t have been that angry with him at least, which was a relief.
Mr. Ratel was just grinning from ear to ear, smiling like a banana as a saying went that Toloka was familiar with. He wished it was literal right now, and was trying to imagining eating someone’s smile, but failed to do so properly. Would they be left with a frown, or?
He was about to continue down that line of thought, when he realized something felt different. His entire body felt light, even though he was hanging between the water and land. Hand in hand with someone he trusted even with having met him just some hours ago. An otherworldly sense of connection overcame him he had never experienced before in his life, as if floating halfway between the material world and the world of spirits, all the sounds fading into the background again as before.
As he stepped on solid ground, he also increasingly felt like a solid being with weight again, and less like a spirit hovering above everything. This, this full return to the world he lived in, also felt jarring now. But gradually he adjusted again, like a traveler returning home, helped by the stranger still holding hands with him, his bag now under his arm again.
They started walking past the noisemakers again, who had actually finally stopped making noise, after having been increasingly encircled by increasingly scowling men and women and who knows who else. Only their weird device was still playing the same beats over and over again.
The evidently unwelcome artists threw back glares and then went around the cluster of people, to a stand with a number of knocked over and shattered earthen pots where they picked up a number of contraptions laying among them. Strange things that had two large wheels about as large as their legs side by side separated a set of broad levers that they then climbed on and with a few pushes of the levers with, strangely enough, their feet they had left, disappearing down an alleyway. Alongside them, their beats also finally faded into the distance.
Not long after Toloka and the Captain arrived at the building that had been the source of all the unpleasant smells, still accompanied by who Toloka continued to refer to as Mr. Ratel in his head as well as the human cardinal and the bulkier man with the snub nose. He still seemed the friendliest out of the bunch.
The building looked like the temple, or well, storehouse Toloka had seen earlier. It just had a sign over the door which he to his dismay couldn't read at all. The symbols were all wrong! They looked nothing like anything he was familiar with. Fortunately, a paper had been attached to the sturdy metal door itself that had large legible letters scribbled on it.
RANASGEY
(TAHOIN)
Toloka questioned whether this was really just a simple place to eat and sleep in as the sign promised. Before he could stop and think about it any more, he was pushed inside, which did nothing to reduce the fear germinating in Toloka's heart. Then he realized he wasn't sure if he liked the mental image this metaphor gave him and tried to sweep it from his mind.
Unfortunately, being in a crowded place with a lot of eyes on him and few exits in his eyes was the perfect fertile ground for it to grow and now it felt like vines were squeezing him inside. He turned to his companion and saw him glaring at Mr. Ratel with a disgust that was contagious. He looked back to the many-eyed monster that was this inn and with some initial trepidation was able to tear through the vines it had sown around his heart and with all the conviction he could muster attempted to stare them into submission.
To his delight, it seemed to work, kind of. More and more eyes looked away and he felt markedly more at ease, like he had wrestled a measure of control over his situation. Then he was pushed to sit down like a child at a table. Irritated that the celebration of his success had been cut short so disrespectfully, he tried the same tactic on who was responsible for it, but only managed to make Mr. Ratel's annoying grin even wider.
But, he thought, it was no time to sulk. He was still on a mission, after all. Looking around, he saw signs, or rather framed posters with sayings like DÂN, DACBARTA, DORIG or
VELDE
LÂM
DABDÂ
in colorful letters surrounded by pretty leaves and flowers.
Toloka briefly wondered what they meant when he saw that simple papers with what appeared to be translations had been put up below the posters, rendering the foreign words slightly awkwardly as NONO, VEEHOVEEHO, NUONUO ILTAVANITI and HEMOHEMO, MOSAMOSAIHO, KIOKIOVONO.
So, “LIVE, LAUGH, LIE” and “EAT, PRAY, KILL”... Instead of dwelling on what this might tell him about the people he found himself surrounded by he quickly searched the walls for other things to distract his mind. He saw pinboards with what seemed to be news, and judging by the symbols and pictures accompanying them, offers of and requests for help on various... tasks? Most of it was in the foreign language he couldn’t understand, but the name of Sitti, a particularly large city on the island and the word Balâk kept appearing in them.
Finally, one wall was covered in many images that had a disturbing similarity to the people and buildings they were apparently depicting, as if someone had taken them and pressed them flat on paper. But he didn’t believe in such stuff. Magic like that obviously didn’t exist, so the people must have gotten incredibly good at drawing or something.
Below the uncanny images a group of children, some looking like villagers from back home, some like the palest strangers he had seen here, and some somewhere inbetween, was gathering. They unexpectedly started to sing, loudly and even aggressively, it was bordering on shouting and startled Toloka enough to make him almost jump out of his seat. The song was oddly captivating, he hung on every word, none of which he could understand or even remained for long in his mind, like waves passing him by.
He didn’t even notice food being served to him shortly after. Finding out it was some grilled fish covered, even if an unfamiliar kind, rather than the meat of some forest animal made it the highlight of this day for sure. It was covered in various spices and fruit, too. Coriander, ginger, and the fruit turned out to be the fancy lemon, something he hadn’t even ever been able to try before, only reading of it in various books.
Much more at ease, he didn’t even worry about the future anymore when after the meal he was alongside his companion shown rooms on the upper floor of the eatery, and just fell asleep on the single bed, large enough for two, almost immediately.
– To be continued –
