Mikhail Shelkov - Elinor. The Deserted Valley. Book 1

Fortunately, both the anglers and dragons have long ago ceased to dwell near the trade routes. People, though slowly, are beginning to prevail in this war that has lasted for many centuries.

I do not know what else I should write about.

As I said before, writing about soldiers, merchants, and cameleers is silly.

About my disciples? They are ordinary children. Sometimes they bring me joy; sometimes, sorrow. Sometimes they delight in things, other times they upset themselves. They try to endure the hardships of camp life in the Great Desert. To some, it comes easy, to others it is difficult. Almost an adult, Calif constantly helps me and Lamis. It’s so good that he is near. He is no longer a boy, almost a man. The other students can be left to his care for a while. The girls have to be soothed every day and be told about the beautiful life in the Valley. Then they cease to moan and require so much attention. I understand them, although I have never been like them myself. They are the girls of noble families, used to houses with light walls and green gardens nearby, and not to the eternal heat and fiery air of the day and tangy cool of the night. In this regard, the boys are simpler, but with them there are other problems. One runs around all day long with a miniature sword, killing scorpions; another picks up all the prickles on the road to investigate them; and someone tries to start a fight with a peer… But I’m used to them. And I love them; I love them as their mentor.

Maybe I can become a good teacher. Mother is sure to approve the idea of school education becoming the main profession of my life. But then I’ll go mad from boredom. My path is different.

Then what else should I write about?

I’ve said enough about myself in the preceding pages.

I am trying to keep a diary the way it should be done by any Djunitian researcher who has self-respect. So I was taught by my father.

Father, Father…

You would’ve been proud of me…

I know that you are proud of me!

I believe in our impending meeting!

I am definitely not in the mood to write more. That is all for today!

Jumanna Inaiya Khaniya Amatt

J. I. Kh. A., 4th day of the Elephant month, the year 531, era IV…”

This History of Elinor is an appendix to the book. Both the author of the book, and compiler of this diary strongly recommend that you read it before reading the main body of this book to learn more about the history, geography, life, and culture of states in Elinor and people inhabiting the continent.

Lamis finished writing. A sharp gust of dry wind broke in, throwing a handful of fine sand on the pages of the diary. The young woman shook off the sand, blew on the manuscript, and shut the diary. She closed the jar of ink and hid the writing feather. Tired from writing, she stretched her beautiful long bronze fingers as Moualdar, a gloomy boy of twelve years, ran into the tent. He came up close, hanging his head.

“I’m bored,” he grumbled.

“You can go feed the camels. The caravanners are always happy to be helped.”

“I don’t want to… I’m scared of camels,” his voice squeaked, reminding the young caretaker that the apprentice, despite his visage, was still just a boy.

His facial features are of an adult, yet he asks for attention enough for three kids to share.

By then Calif had also appeared under the canopy of the tent.

Calif was tall and stately. From the first glance, it was obvious he was a future warrior. Something in him was reminiscent of the young caretaker’s brother, only her brother’s hair was short and straight, while Calif’s was long and curly. Moreover, Calif’s eyes were not as stern. His figure was still one of a strong young man, but not yet a weather-beaten warrior.

It would be great if one day Calif came to learn the art of war from her brother!

But now Calif was headed to the Valley with her. And it was with him that the caretaker was pleased the most. As the eldest, he was always ready to help; he respected her and helped to monitor the disciples.

“Honorable Tangut Khatum said that he is better, so tomorrow at dawn, we are advancing!” said Lamis.

“Do you need any help?” Calif immediately blurted out.

“Yes!” All the minor problems were solved at once. “Collect the totes!” she said to Calif, then looked at Moualdar. “And you go help!”

The boy snorted discontentedly. Obviously, this was not how he wanted to dispel his boredom.

During the encampment, the disciples were allowed to devote the day to the classes of their choice, and completely unpack their hiking knapsacks. Yet the sun was already swiftly rolling towards the horizon; its rays no longer carried as much of the sizzling heat. Evening was approaching. It was time to get ready for the journey, so as not to bustle about during the morning gathering, but rather, after having leisurely broken their fast, to pack up the caravan and set off without delay.

Lamis, the faithful assistant, withdrew, dragging with her the disgruntled Moualdar. The well-mannered Calif turned to his caretaker and just before leaving made a traditional courteous bow. The canopy of the tent swung closed.

A smile lit up the young woman’s face.

He’s an absolute miracle!

Now it was necessary to bring all the disciples together, announce that the encampment would not be prolonged, and remind everyone to fill their waterskin bags to the brim with water.

Though I’ll still have to check before we set off… these are children. They see the world differently. Some still don’t understand what a dangerous place it is, they don’t understand there are no parents here who will blow the sand off them, or that though their caretaker is strong and brave, she is not unlimitedly sturdy – I will not be able to carry a separate bota bag for each of them. It will be useful if, from this passage through the Great Desert, everyone learned a certain lesson for themselves. The lesson that no school can give, the lesson that only life teaches.

It was also necessary to get everyone to bed early. Even a short respite is a knockout from the working rhythm. Hence, tomorrow’s wakening would be that much harder.

Therefore, for today, the essential thing was sleep! Sleep… a dream!

The young woman remembered last night’s dream. In it, she saw the Valley of the Ancestors in all its glory, and it was exactly the way she had pictured it from her father’s stories.

The four great cities of Dalaal, Konolwar, Eavette, and Mata-Mata were located on the shores of the Lake of the Ancestors and the Huma River. A burgomaster ruled each city. The Valley had always been considered a separate state, but it would be more correct to see it as an association of the four Great Cities.

The Great Desert of the Djunits did not fall under the single authority of a particular ruler. To be perfectly precise, that was how it was before, at the beginning of the Fourth Epoch. Over time, rulers realized that every city-oasis in the midst of endless sands lived its own life, and if self-government was granted to these settlements, the entire trading system would benefit. Since then, the cities of the Djunits were governed by the izirs. The clan of Djunitian kings, originating from the Marawie Sandy Lion, became part of the clan of the izirs of Kay-Samiluf, the largest and most powerful city in the Great Desert. This family was later overthrown, and nobody knows in whose veins the blood of the founder-father of the Djunits now flows. Nonetheless, all the cities of the Djunits are subject of the will of the council of the Kay-Samiluf Academy, which retains the right to interfere in the affairs of the izirs. Hence, in a way, the Great Desert can still call itself a state.